027. THE SHOW
027. THE SHOW
Harry always enjoyed being alone.
It was peaceful, a place to relax without suffering from distractions. He could think more clearly, see things differently and strategize his next move with an open mind. Being alone was where he did his best work.
Recently, it didn't feel that way.
Everything felt a tad lonelier and darker. His relaxation was replaced with tension that he couldn't understand; a dull pain constantly lingered in his head. And it stayed no matter how many drinks he consumed to make it go away. He tried to convince himself otherwise, but there was one thing he knew could make it better.
Her.
Every night, Harry stood in his spot on the second floor - the one that provided a complete view of the establishment - and waited. Patience was never his strong suit, but he learned to adapt the past few nights. He waited for her to walk in and start her shift, but she never showed.
It wasn't like he expected her to show up to work - she made it evident that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Deep down, he hoped she would. Harry was already doing everything he could to stop himself from showing up at her apartment or Sal's. All he needed was a glimpse of her to feel better; at least, that's what he told himself.
"Just wanted to let you know that Kip finished checking the locket. It's clean. She didn't go into it or make any copies."
Harry refilled his glass. "Great," he muttered.
"Why do you think she gave it back?"
"Don't know," he lied.
Colson ran his finger across the engravement. "Do you think she saw the photo of Juliet?"
Harry reached for the bottle, draining his glass at the mention of the name. "I don't know, Colson. Alright?"
"Rory was one girl, Haz. Don't get yourself all bent out of shape over her."
"I'm not. She was good for business. That's all."
Colson was unconvinced by the answer but knew better than to push on this type of subject. "Kip finished the security in the basement. Do you want me to put it in the safe?"
"Sure," he said, looking back down at his task.
"Can I ask you something?"
Harry hummed a yes, without actually responding with the word itself.
"Why is she still alive?"
"Because we haven't killed her."
Colson took a step towards the desk. "That's what I mean. If we have the locket back, what the fuck is she still doing alive?"
"Because despite what we led her to believe, we don't kill innocent people," he said, before dropping his voice to add in a whisper, "Anymore - that is."
A week hadn't yet passed since the incident with Rory, and already, he found himself struggling. So, Harry distracted himself the best way he knew how - by working. It wasn't hard to find a task that needed to be done, considering a prominent issue was at hand. Maybe that was why he found such comfort with Rory - she was an escape from the hell he faced. Their business was going to shit, and it didn't help that he preferred spending time with her to finding a solution. Now, there was nothing else left for him to do but that.
"I was surprised when your associate reached out. But I must admit, I can't understand why we haven't gone into business together sooner."
Harry handed the man a glass filled with amber liquid. "Recently, we have decided to go in a new direction with our business associates. No better time than to establish something."
"Ah, yes. I've heard rumblings about Brandon's... misguided judgements, let's say."
"He took his work overseas."
"I'm sure he did," Giovanni chuckled. "We used to not step outside the family for business, but I like how you conduct your work. We could make a lot of money together. And, it's good to know we have a common enemy." The man took a sip from his drink. "Speaking of, tell me, how is our little Bambolina these days?"
Harry felt the pain pulse through his skull. "Rory is great."
"Really? That's good news. She seemed so sad the other night, such a poor thing," he said, leaning his frame against the railing. "Well, who knows what could have been going on. She's such a closed book that one - I hope that nasty ex of hers didn't do anything."
Harry knew this was a test; Giovanni was trying to crack his composed nature. But Harry wouldn't let Giovanni see any hint of pain over hearing Rory be called Bambolina or mentioning her sadness.
"But I'm glad to know she works for you now," Giovanni continued, "It's always good to have a killer on your side for protection, yes?"
"I wouldn't know. But I'm sure someone like that on your side would be an asset."
"Yes, it would. Especially since I prefer keeping my hands clean, I pay top dollar for having those men on my side." Giovanni drained the remaining liquid from his glass. "We'll be in touch, Harry. Tell Bambolina I said hello."
Harry spent the rest of the week alone in his office, thankful that the new business prospect kept him distracted. Profits had taken quite a hit, and the pressure was on to turn things around. They had expanded areas of their enterprise before discovering that a change was needed, and Brandon had to take his trip overseas, as they referred to it.
With attention to the accounting books, Harry told himself it was easier to stay away from the bar scene by locking himself in the office. Waiting for her to show would only remind him that she was taking time off - something he had to hear through an employee. Desperately, he wanted to convince himself that it was more peaceful without her around. But deep down, he knew he missed her - regardless of how annoying he still thought she was.
Nearing ten o'clock, after staring at the same thing for minutes on end, he wondered if he should give up for the night. The moment he convinced himself that a fresh start tomorrow sounded like the best plan, he noticed something on the monitor.
The camera inside her apartment that faced her front door was on.
Harry picked up his phone. "Colson, did you set up a new camera at Rory's apartment?"
"No... Why?"
"Okay. Thanks." He hung up the phone without further explanation.
Something was going on. What that exactly was, he had no idea. But he knew there was no chance he would go home without knowing.
Rory walked into the frame. She looked at herself in the reflection, running her hands over the little black dress she had on. Reaching for her cellphone, she answered a call.
"Kip!" Harry yelled. "KIP!"
The scrawny man poked his head through the door. "Yeah, Boss?"
"How do I get sound on this thing?" he asked, pointing to the monitor.
"Did you turn on the volume button?"
His eyes narrowed. "Yes, obviously, I turned on the fucking volume button."
The kid rounded the desk. "Hm," he said, clicking around with the computer mouse. "Weird. Usually, you guys forget to turn on the simple things."
"I don't pay you to mock me. I pay you to fix this shit and hack. Now, hurry up!" he urged.
"Calm down."
"I am fucking calm!" Harry snapped.
Kip rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh yeah, super calm," under his breath as he continued to click the mouse and type gibberish code - at least, to Harry, that's what it was.
Suddenly, the sounds of her apartment filled the computer speakers.
"There you go, Boss."
"Shit," he grumbled, noticing Rory had hung up the phone.
"I didn't know we were putting the cameras back up in her apartment."
"We didn't, and I don't know who did. Can you do any of your computer shit and find out who?"
"Sure, let me get right on my computer shit." Kip's laughter fell silent as he noticed the glare he received. "Shit, alright, damn. I'll see what I can find."
"Alright, thanks. Get out."
Kip left without another word, closing the door behind him, leaving Harry alone to watch the monitor like an insane man.
Rory leaned towards the mirror to apply a thick coat of gloss across her full lips. After a final look over her curves in that tight dress, she was finally out the door.
Harry should have turned off the monitor and gone home. But he couldn't. Someone - not on his team - had turned that camera back on. And if there was one thing that would give him some peace of mind, it was seeing her return safely home.
Hours had passed. Countless glasses of whisky had been consumed. And Harry was fighting the urge to pass out in his chair.
The sound of keys fiddling in a lock caused his head to perk up. Her door swung open. At first, he found himself to be relieved. That feeling quickly disappeared as he realized she wasn't alone.
Rory was on a date with Andrew - the fucking finance douche that always had his eyes on her and made himself a distraction while she worked. That guy made his blood boil. No one was that nice. Asking her how her day was. Giving her tickets to baseball games out of the blue. Remembering why it was a game special sporting event to her.
While Harry seethed in his chair, his Bambi appeared nothing but pleased over her companion. Closing the door behind them, Rory leaned her back against the wood and said, "You want to kiss me, don't you?"
You want to kiss me, don't you?
She had used that same line on him the first night they met. The realization had Harry reaching for another drink.
"I do," Andrew replied, the nerves evident in his shaky voice.
Pathetic, Harry sneered to himself.
"So why don't you?"
"Because I don't want you to think I'm that kind of guy."
"And what kind of guy would that be?"
"The kind of guy that only offers to walk you to your apartment door hoping to get lucky."
Harry rolled his eyes. Yeah, good luck with that, finance-douche.
"I like to think I'm a good judge of character, Andrew. So if I thought that's all you wanted from me, I wouldn't have let you come up. Or asked if you wanted to come in for a minute." A smile curved onto her lips as she stepped forward. "Want to know a secret?"
He nodded.
Rory leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear. Harry didn't know what she said, but whatever it was, he had to be good, considering Andrew looked like he was about to pass out.
"A-are you sure?"
Rory didn't reply with a verbal answer. Instead, she gave him a knowing look and pressed her lips to his. Harry felt a strange feeling twist in his stomach as he watched his Bambi kiss another guy. And again. And again. And again. She had to guide his attention towards her neck - Harry would have known to do that. Andrew had to be taught.
Her hand went to the back of his neck, keeping him in place. Turning her head slightly, her eyes shifted up towards the far corner.
There was no way she was looking at him - well, directly at him through the camera.
It has to be a coincidence, he thought to himself.
His drunken mind could've fooled him.
Her lips curved into a smile as her spare hand raised, and she waved.
Rory knew he was watching.
His little Bambi had set the whole thing up.
looks like the (w)hory games are back on for another season!!
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