Relocation

Jan. 23rd, 2010 02:33 pm
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He knows he can’t do this on his own. He needs help, which is exactly why he came to New York to do it.

The problem with pulling favours is that they’re exponentially more difficult to come by with each passing year. He’s owed some pretty big favours, but it’s been nearly twenty years since he’s had contact with any of the people that are in his debt.

He’s not so much worried that the people owing the debts won’t be too keen on paying up. He’s worried that he’s never going to find these people again. After sleeping nearly sixteen hours in a drafty hotel room, he decides to start with the obvious path, and rounds up a white pages.

There is, of course, another problem and it’s slightly more personal. He can’t remember any names. That’s not to say that every name of every person he’s ever known has fallen out of his head, but the names he needs right now? Gone. Oddly, he does remember what he was calling himself all those years ago, though. That’s at least a good sign, surely.

Eventually, he does manage to come up with one name, but it’s not sure if it’s right. Still, he starts flipping through the white pages, hopeful that he’ll come up with something. Finally, he finds the listing he’d been wanting to see, and reaches for the telephone by the bed. It takes him several tries to dial the number, which is annoying. He used to be able to touch type – this just isn’t fair at all.

“Can I speak with Dominic?” he asks lightly when a woman answers the phone.

She tells him to hold on, and several moments later, a man picks up.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Hi, Dom,” Gus says casually. “It’s Thomas. We used to do some jobs together back in the day.”

There’s a long pause. “Hold on,” Dominic says eventually. As he shuffles about on the other end, Gus can’t help but feel relieved. Things just might wind up working after all.

“What do you want?” Dominic demands once the shuffling has stopped.

“I’m back in the city, and I need a favour,” Gus says simply.

“No, I’m not doing that anymore,” Dominic insists.

Gus sighs. “The way I see it,” he says, “is I took the fall and went to prison for you. Was that your wife that answered the phone? She sounded nice.”

“Don’t you dare,” Dominic warns.

“Does she know you been lying to her all these years?”

There’s another long pause, and Gus manages to relax a little bit.

“Where are you?” Dominic asks finally. “And you disappear after this, all right?”

“That’s exactly the plan,” Gus assures. “Just come get me.”

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Gus Dickinson

September 2010

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