Ace Of Spades (Complete Raw First Draft, Unedited)

Twenty- Six: Directions

I waited until Jenna was safely inside the Reapers' clubhouse before I took off, trying to remember the directions I'd looked up for the address I had to go.

It was reasonably straight forward, I only had to stop and double check twice to be sure I was going the right way.  I was becoming more and more apprehensive the closer I got, but, after about fourty minutes or so, passing through the tiny town inbetween where I lived and the address, I managed to track down the house.

It was in the bad part of the neighborhood, which was no surprise.  The houses were all similar, there wasn't much to help me differentiate between one property from the next.  The main difference were the length of the grass on the front lawn, the amount of junk strewn about the yard, or the breed of dog chained up, barking at anyone walking by.

I pulled up outside the house I needed, music pumping from inside, and switched off the engine.  There were groups of people milling about the front of the house, all watching me.  One guy hit his mate with the back of his hand to grab his attention, gesturing toward me with the crack pipe he was holding.

Right at that moment, I really wished that I had Clyde with me, to back me up.  But, on the other hand, I was glad he wasn't here.  I could tell that half the guys here were jacked right up, looking for any excuse to throw fists.  I'm sure Clyde would give them a reason, just because he was always looking for one himself.

I wasn't sure if I should just walk straight up to the front door, or if I should ask someone on the front lawn for the Gypsy.  Who would I ask, though?

Fuck it, I decided.  I'll walk up, if anyone tries to stop me, I'll tell them Beast sent me.

With that plan in mind, I climbed off my bike and strode straight up to the front door, breathing a small sigh of relief when no one tried to stop me.  Until I got to the front door.

I was wondering if I should knock, or just got straight in, when this guy stepped in front of me.  He was about my height, but more wirey, his arms corded with muscle, bulging where he crossed them over his chest.

I glanced quickly at the intricate capital h tattoo beneath his left eye, the same as some of the others I'd passed crossing the lawn.

He tried to stare me down, but I met his gaze and held it, and he sneered.

"You're not a Specter," he observed, looking me up and down.  "What do you want?"

"Beast sent me here," I answered in the same curt tone he used.  "I want to see the Gypsy."

He sniffed, then spat on the ground before eyeing me again.

"Wait here," he told me, and dissapeared inside, leaving me on the doorstep. 

Three more guys with the same tattoo on their faces were eyeing me from the left.  Again, I held their gaze for a second, before glancing behind me, feeling uneasy.  No one was coming up from behind to try and shank me, but most of the people on the front lawn were watching me.

Fucking hell, hurry the fuck up, I silently prayed.  This was way too intense.

At last, the front door opened again, and I was ushered inside.  I followed the guy with the face tattoo through the throng of people filling up the entire place, hearing nothing over the music.  I tried to ignore the graffiti sprayed over the walls, and the amount of smoke in the air, the group of people passed out on the couch, the couple fucking in the corner...

There was a scratchy woolen blanket nailed over a door, and Face Tattoo pulled it aside, peering around the door frame.

"He's here," I heard him say, and he jerked his chin at me.  I ducked under the blanket, glancing back as it fell shut behind me, blocking out the party or whatever was going on.  I could still hear the music, unfortunately.

I was standing in what must have been the kitchen, although it was barely recognisable anymore.  There was a small round table in the middle of the room, with several people seated around it.  In the middle of the table was a scales, and a pile of small plastic zip lock bags.

"You're Ace."

I looked up at the woman who'd spoken, her intense gaze boring into my eyes, like she could see through me, into my soul.

She could have been anywhere between the age of twenty five to fourty five.  She studied me with wise, ancient eyes that held some sort of youthful glow, waiting for me to respond.

"Yeah," I nodded.  "I'm looking for the Gypsy."

"Then, you found her," the woman said, her hoop earrings moving slightly against her long wavy brown hair as she spoke.  I realised why she was called the Gypsy.  It wasn't necessarily some metaphorical name or anything, like I figured it must have been, but she definitely looked like one.

"I have something for you, from Beast," I told her, and she smiled, holding out her hand, and I passed her the package he'd given me that morning.

I watched while she weighed it, pursing her thin lips while she read the numbers, then she smiled, handing the package to the girl on her right, who started dividing it into smaller portions, and putting them into the smaller bags.

"Laila," the Gypsy clicked her fingers, and a small girl, maybe nine or ten years old cautiously approached me, handing me a thick envelope.  I smiled at her, but she just stared before scampering away. I put the envelope in my jacket, right where the package had been.

"You tell Beast I'll be in touch," the Gypsy said, and I nodded, following Face Tattoo out of the kitchen, through the party, and back out into the night air.

He shut the door behind us, taking up his place next to the door, acting as security once more.

"See you around," I muttered to him.

He set his jaw, but said nothing to me, and I shrugged, walking back across the yard to where I'd left my bike, going against every instinct not to sprint back to it and gun it out of there, as fast as I could.

If someone's stolen the wheels off it, I'm going to completely lose my shit.

I nearly groaned when I saw the group of five tattoos milling around my baby, checking her right out.  I braced myself, sure they were going to try and make it difficult for me to leave without a fight, but, surprisingly, they stepped back when I approached.

I glanced around, but none of them said anything, just watched me as I climbed back on.

"Nice wheels," a guy on my right commented.

"Thanks, man," I responded, giving him a half smile.

"Yeah, you'll have to take him for a ride, one time," another guy commented.  "I'm sure he'll make it worth your while."

The others all laughed, then wandered away, back to the party, and, after the most intense twenty minutes of my life, I gunned the engine and left.