THE STRATAGEM

.4.

Dedicated to THEpriestIII for helping me out with this chapter and supporting my idea from day one. He's also the part of the inspiration behind Joseph - cause he's Joseph as well- but his personality is based more on Eddie from 'If loving you is wrong'.

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"You know what, forget all that shit," Joseph said, his baritone voice loud and clear. "This grief has consumed you man and, I hate seeing you like this. You've got to loosen up and shake it off, bring back the Ay-man. Besides, he's well suited to deal with those cunts."

I remained motionless. Moving seemed like such a chore.

"Come on, man, go get dressed. You can't be in such a shitty mood, not with me around." He nudged my not injured shoulder.

"She was pregnant."

A chill breeze came in through the doorway as I said that and goosebumps formed on my bare arms. He was silent.

"Come on," He finally said, pulling me to my feet. "Go get dressed. We have somewhere to be."

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I should have known from the moment he said 'loosen up', he would take me to solve my problem by getting drunk. I was hoping for something different, but now I know for sure that this is his form of therapy for any form of issue.

The place was so packed and noisy, I could barely hear my own thoughts. The tables and chairs were holding more people than they should, some wasted. Empty glass bottles were lying all over the place, and the music was so loud, I felt the vibrations in my chest.

"Come on!" He yelled in my ear and began making his way through the little space between the chairs and tables towards the bar. I followed. Thankfully, it was quieter and brighter as the bar had white lights glowing around its glass edges.

"Vodka. Make it so strong I forget how to breathe." Joe told the bartender then sat on a stool.

"Really?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

"Yes."

"I can't be out here having drinks like my life's not a mess, it won't solve anything. Heck, I should have turned around the moment I realized it was a pub."

"Your moping about won't solve anything either. Just drink your grief away, so you can have a level head when we show those motherfuckers pain." His plan was beginning to seem alluring.

The bartender, Luis, placed two glasses before us, and Joseph immediately downed his, demanding a refill.

"Drink up, pretty boy."

I wasn't the kind of person to drown my problems in alcohol. It never helped. But right now, I was willing to do anything to numb the ache in my heart even though it would be temporary, so I picked up the glass and consumed its content, then used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe a few stray drops from my lips.

"Atta boy, haha! Get him a refill!" He yelled, slapping the back of my head as I reeled from the harshness of the drink.

"Here." I picked the glass up from the metal bar top as soon as it made clank sound against it, then downed the content, and then the next, and the next, till I started to feel tipsy.

"Another refill."

"No. No more Joe."

"You're not crying, and snort's not running down your nose yet."

"I'm good."

He said nothing, glanced at his watch and then lit a cigarette.

"A martini," I heard someone say in a heavy British accent, and I noticed someone sitting next to Joe, a hood over his head.

"Took you long enough." Smoke came out of his mouth with each word he spoke.

"What do you want?" Luis placed the glass of martini before him.

"Information on these people," Joe said, pulling out a piece of paper from his trench coat and placed it on the bar top between them.

"How soon?" He asked, looking around then he grabbed the paper and put it in his pocket.

"First thing in the morning."

He jerked his head towards us, but I still couldn't see his face clearly, he still had his hood on him. "I can't. I have an AP calculus test tomorrow." He said, half yelling, half keeping his voice low.

"Well then, start ASAP. I'll make the payment through the usual route."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, and the hood fell from his head as he held the stem of the martini glass. He looked like he was around seventeen.

"Aren't you a little too young to be drinking?"

His gaze fell on me, his face expression free.

"Stay out of my business if you need help with yours."

"I'm an officer, and you're too you-"

"Shhhh," Joseph said, placing his palm over my mouth, shaking his head no, and I breathed in smoke from his cigarette.

"It seems your guy doesn't know how things go around here." He tsked and drank from the glass.

Joseph took off his palm. "We have a deal?"

"What happened to your eye?" He asked.

"Somebody's breaking his own rule," I answered, with what I hoped was a stern look on my face.

"You need me, not the other way around."

"The man who murdered my wife..., and child did this to me."

His face remained impassive, and he looked away. He placed the empty glass on the bar top and stood tall.

"Have my money ready by three A.M, not a second after." Was all he said, then left, the hood back on his blonde strands, and hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

Joseph and I were both quiet. The atmosphere was the opposite.

"We'll get those fuckers, and I promise you, they'll experience pain like they've never known. Nobody fucks with you and lives to tell the tale Ay, especially when you have me..." I didn't hear the rest of what he said clearly, his face was starting to look like a marshmallow. The alcohol was getting to me.