Smooth Operator.

24. Holed Up

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
HOLED UP

———

A FEW DAYS AFTER THE DREADFUL SHINKANSEN EVENTS, THE FRUITS AND THE CAT HAD HOLED UP IN A MOTEL TWO TOWNS OVER. It didn't feel right for all of them having to discard of their nice clothes, despite the blood that stained the materials, and having to swap them out for clothes stolen from backgarden clothes lines.

Estela sat on her rickety bed, knees folded up to her chest, eyes trained on the boxy television perched on the dresser at the head of the room. Her black curls hung to her shoulders, as opposed to being slicked back in a fool-proof ponytail, and her body had been dressed in an oversized grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants – quite dull in comparison to her usual preppy fashion.

The restroom door opened, revealing Tangerine, curly brown locks damp, his signature blue suit swapped out for a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans which were slightly too big for him.

He heaved out a sigh, which caused Estela's brown eyes to drift away from the pixelated tv screen and over to him.

"You okay?" She asked, reaching for the remote to mute the television.

With another deep breath, Tangerine placed himself at the foot of Estela's bed, hands on knees. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, his upper lip – and therefore, his moustache – twitching.

"I just–" He began slowly, jaw clenching. "Me and Lemon have been in a lot of sticky fuckin' situations. But, we've always had a way out. We've been stuck in here for three days now, with no money, no clothes that are ours, and no way to get fucking home."

Estela nodded, chest heaving with a sigh – one that truly wracked throughout her body. She knew exactly what he meant.

From the wreck, all three of them had stayed together, as no one wanted to leave another to fend for themselves alone, relocating two towns over on foot to the backstreets of moriguchi, all bloodied and beat-up.

In their line of work, the three assassins knew full well how dangerous is was for your own life to casually walk around, leaving the blood on your clothes to fully seep in; so Lemon had taken initiative and plucked a red hoodie off a clothes line from a first-storey apartment balcony. This seemed to start a trend within the trio, and suddenly everybody was stealing people's clothes for themselves – and discarding of their old ones in people's rubbish bins.

Today, however, Lemon was out; he didn't give a straight response when he announced his departure and slammed the motel door behind him, but Tangerine and Estela shared high hopes of what he would be back with. If he even came back.

"No phones; no money to even get phones; and without phones we can't make arrangements to do anything, or go anywhere, or get the fuck out of here."

Clearly, Tangerine was getting antsy. He couldn't handle just sitting around in one place. For someone constantly on his feet, how could he?

On her knees, Estela moved along the springy bed to sit beside the male, placing a light hand on top of his. His icy eyes looked up to her, their chill thawing as they roamed her soft features.

"Lemon has it handled," Estela nodded. Her lips formed a small smile. "Whatever it is that he's doing."

And the door opened, revealing the devil himself just as he was spoken; Lemon, wearing entirely different clothes than the ones he'd left in.

As opposed to the red gym shorts and black t-shirt he'd gone out in, Lemon stepped into the motel room, decked out in a new suit; brown blazer and matching pants, and a white button-up beneath, pulled to a finish with a maroon tie. His feet, however, still owned the same worn-out sneakers he'd stolen from a porch, which had been damp for some reason, and none of them wanted to question it.

In his grip, he held a plethora of shopping bags – plastic, paper, fabric – and placed them on the free bed – the one he and his brother had been sharing – with a flourish.

He dusted his hands off against each other, and stood back to grin at the pair on the bed, a smug smile upon his lips.

A beat of silence passed. Lemon's expression faltered.

"This is the part where you're supposed to ask me where I've been, and where I've gotten all this shit from," he said lowly.

On the bed, both Tangerine and Estela shared a glance before opening their mouths.

"Oh, where have you been, Lemon?" Estela asked, her voice monotone as she recited the line Lemon had asked for.

"God!" Tangerine continued, feigning surprise. "and And the bloody hell have you gotten all this shit from?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Lemon grinned, digging his hands into one of the bags. When he pulled them out, in his grip was a stack of folded clothes, of which he handed to Tangerine. Now with the clothes in his grasp, he sifted through the pile, his moustache twitching.

"It's rich what you can from Japanese business men on their work break who're craving a pack of cigs," the taller man continued with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lip.

Eyes wide and jaw slack, Estela scoffed. "You got all this from some guys craving some nicotine?" She asked in disbelief as Lemon passed her a pile of clothing from a second bag.

In response, Lemon lifted a shoulder and tilted his head from side to side. "More or less. I had to give some of 'em my earrings, too – as if they weren't loaded enough."

Estela placed the pile of clothes in her lap and pulled the garment on the top before her; a navy Ralph Lauren jumper, authentic, and incredible quality. Her jaw widened.

In her astonishment, she quickly turned the jumper around to show off the logo to Lemon. "This is real! You sure you didn't do any other kinds of favours for all this shit?"

At this, Lemon let out a low whistle, reaching in to the final bag. "Just you wait for this."

And out of the paper bag, he pulled three mobile phones, all fit into one sleek black box. "You won't believe what I had to do to get these."