Monday, June 06, 2005
Dark woke up around 8:30 am with a ferocious hangover. Muttering to himself that he was never going to drink again, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the shower. His body was crying out for hot water, but he knew that would only worsen his condition. Gritting his teeth like a cage for the pounding in his head, he turned the knob with the blue "c" and felt the cold chill of the pipe’s contents.
The cold shower invigorated him and snapped him a little out of his funk, but he was soon back in bed, wishing he could just sleep, if only for a little while. It was strange, a master of pain brought low by a bottle of booze. Happens to the best of us, Rion pondered.
He was able to sleep in fits and bursts, but eventually he realized it was no use and decided it was time to face the day, jackhammer in his cranium or not. When was he going to learn that tequila was not his friend? Not only did it make him crazy, it made the next day a living hell. Especially in his current situation, he would have to exhibit a little more restraint.
He’d almost killed those kids that were making out on the beach. Dark wasn’t really sure what had stopped him. Surely not his conscience, which had been deposited in the compost heap of his existence long ago. No. He was like a cat now, wary even while relaxed and medicated. His survival instincts had stopped what in the past would have become a very ugly scene with a not so pleasant cover-up. Dark had dug more than his shares of hasty graves after a night of the agave plant’s secret pleasures.
Thankfully, he’d done the wise thing and dragged himself back to his room for a power meeting with a pillow that was his only friend on this godforsaken island. At least until he was able to contact his associate’s local field agent, if that was an apropos description. Joe hadn’t really been specific, but that was par for the course with him. Dealing with Johnson in the past, Dark had never known all the factors, but the scenario had always played itself out in a favorable fashion. In short, Joe didn’t recommend or deal with anyone that didn’t know what the fuck they were doing.
Dark had to take his compatriot in the shady side’s word however on not trusting whoever it was that was going to answer that phone call he’d be making this afternoon. Provide him/her with certain information necessary to assist him? Yes. Let’s just say information would be provided on an as-needed basis, thank you very much.
His stomach was grumbling, hungry yet reticent. Dark decided to risk it, and headed downstairs to the buffet, which according to the brochure sitting next to the ash tray and bible, was currently in full swing in the courtyard. Dark contemplated a round of golf later in the day, but had the feeling naptime would beat out that idea.
Breakfast was good, and Dark was back in bed and drifting to sleep by 11 am, the pain in his head having subsided to a dull roar after a hearty meal and some aspirin. Some cannabis would hit the spot right now, he mused as his mind floated away. Finding something like that, however, would draw unneeded attention. Besides, pain was good, it cleared the cobwebs for the trials ahead.
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