Renai, my girl

Chapter 3

"Shoot"

"Bang"

"You prick"

"Ya know"

I sighed, rolling my eyes. Michaels leaned heavily against the doorframe, grinning at me like the cat who'd got the cream. The cheshire cat. His fuckin' smile gave me the creeps. He stuffed his hand into the pocket of his baggy tracksuit trousers, pulling out a zippo lighter.

Renai was pissed off at me, as it was. I was pissed off at me too, for having to lie to her. This time my excuse had been 'business related issues', and, faith, that didn't come off well. Maybe I couldn't see it now, but every excuse was another pick axe to the cracks in our relationship.

Michaels pulled away from thedoor frame, reaching into his other pocket and producing a flattened box of cigarettes. His greasy blond hair fell over his face, and he stuck his cigarette into it. I saw the question coming before it had left the bastard's mouth. "Hey man, what happened to your face?" He asked. I sighed, bringing a hand up to touch it gently. The swelling had gone down significantly, leaving faint bruises and scratches. "One word: Rhodes. Little dickhead got away. No doubt to go tell all the others... On toppa that, he pulled a fuckin' gun on me!"

"Shit man! What sort, uh?"

"I dunno"

Michaels considered me, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"You smoke?" He asked me, offering me the grubby packet. I declined, shaking my head slowly. "Dude, no way. Shit. ...Hey, you know that, don't fuck with me" I warned him, pointing accusingly. "Never know when you'll change your mind, brother" He shrugged, flipping the lid and lighting up.    "I know I won't change my mind, sister. Come the fuck on, man, I haven't got all night" I grunted. Michaels looked up at me through his cloud of smoke, giving a small sigh of relief. "Oh, yeah, yeah, that's the stuff. Fuck, man. Mmm, hmm. Yeah, uh, wait, come with me" He turned around and left the room.

Mitchell Michaels. My partner in crime.

Well, not quite crime, but we ain't exactly heroes. More like partners in ratting-out, as that's what we did best. We were the people behind the glitz and the glamour of cops and the like. We dug the shit, they served it on a golden plate.

Mitchell was a pretty deep guy. Hadda Kurt Cobain look about him, rough edged, greasy shoulder length blond hair, and a smile like the Cheshire cat. His fingers snapping in front of my eyes brought me back to reality. As soon as he was content that I was listening, he began.

"You are going to serve as my very own little infiltrator mole" He grinned. "Aw shit man, I always wanted one of those"

I frowned at him. "Wait, you said you wanted someone brought ba-" I began, but he quietened me with an airy wave of his hand. "Sorry man, did I say that? Shit no. What I meant was I want info on them brought back. For now. Now, here's the big shit. You are going to pose as someone, and I want you to form a relationship with one of these three people. Butter 'em up, and then fuck 'em up. The more they trust you, the more they'll tell you. The catch is, it's gonna be hard to get her trust. She's a stone-cold fox"  I considered his words, nodding. But then I froze. I felt the blood steadily draining from my face. "Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. Hold the fuck up, man. Hold. The fuck. Up. You just said SHE" 

Michaels simply looked at me. "Yeah, I did, didn't I?" He said slowly. "I'll call her 'he' if that makes you feel any better"

"It's a woman?"

"Yeah"

"A woman?"

"Yeah"

"WHAT THE SHIT IS GOING ON HERE, MICHAELS!" I yelled, stepping forward unintentionally. He promptly took two steps back, raising his palms protectively. "Dude! Shit! Do what you like! I meant, only if it's necessary"