Bill
Bill zoomed in his camera on the guy sitting by the window and typing down notes. He wore a shirt and a navy pullover, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes. A jacket was thrown over his chair, a phone peeking out of the pocket. He pushed his glasses up just as Bill snapped a photo. He frowned. It looked like the guy was picking his nose. He took a few more, before returning to lying on his back in the grass.
There were students all around him, complaining about essays they needed to write and exams they needed to fail. The number of things people waste their youth on is amazing. College is useless. Whether or not you have a diploma doesn't really make a difference. You still won't get a job.
"Have you gone in yet?" Diana asked.
"Nope. There's still time."
It was quarter to one and Bill had about fifteen minutes to get his hands on Pablo Gomez's phone.
"Don't be late."
"Don't you worry, Di. I'll be right on time."
"Don't call me Di."
"Okay, Di."
The comms disconnected.
Bill shrugged, deciding it was time to get a move on. Go in past the reception and security, wait until class is over and hope Pablo will keep his phone in the front pocket as he bumped into him— is what Bill could do. But it was a lot of work and he frankly, he wasn't sure he could pull it off. He could do most things, but pickpocketing wasn't his strongest skill. So instead he headed for the front lobby. It was empty and he could see the security guard at the reception reading a book, oblivious to Bill, whose hand lingered over the fire alarm.
He slipped behind a decorative tree, as the guard jumped to his feet, almost dropping his phone and headed to escort the piles of students that burst out of their classrooms. The alarm wailed the halls and above their head, but he noted they weren't pale or in a frenzy. They weren't scared. They just hate college and would rather watch the building burn down, Bill concluded.
He pushed through the crowd, going in the opposite direction and entered through the first door he saw. The ladies' toilet.
It didn't take long for the commotion to settle and after about a minute and a half, not that he was counting, Bill was inside the classroom, overlooking the very patch of grass he was lying on earlier. The board was filled with math equations that would make anyone with a normal brain dizzy and the students had left all of their stuff scattered around. Bill headed to the spot he had noticed Pablo sitting in and paused. Then he checked the row in front. And the row behind. No jacket.
"Um, shit," Bill said, looking to his watch. Cassandra was no doubt already convincing Gomez to call his son and if Bill didn't get that phone and pretend he had Pablo at gunpoint, he'll be the one looking down the barrel himself.
He sprinted outside and slipped into the crowd of chattering people unnoticed, because they were all looking at their phones. He scanned the crowd looking for a certain dweeb in a business jacket.
He quickened his step when he noticed him.
"Wanna go for drinks after?" One of the people in his group asked.
"Su—" Pablo grunted as Bill slammed a shoulder into his shoulder blade, making him take a few steps forward and come face to face with another guy. They grabbed each other by the forearms to regain balance, awkwardly putting more distance between them. Bill shoved his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, hiding the phone. "Shit, sorry man."
Pablo gave him a once-over and wordlessly turned back to his friends.
Bill pulled the phone out when he was far enough away and turned on the comms. "Got it."
"About time," Diana said. "I was just gonna—"
The screen lit up.
"Yeah, no, don't sound the alarm. We're good." Bill said, pressing the answer button. "Yes?"
A string of words in Spanish sounded from the other side of the line. Bill frowned and them shrugged. "Sorry bro. Pablo's not here right now. Need me to give him a message?"
The line clicked dead.
Guess not.
Bill returned to the main campus lawn and entered back into the reception area. The students had cleared, an occasional few still getting shooed off to class by professors. "It was a false alarm," they said.
The guard looked up at him. "It was a false alarm, you can go back to class now."
"Sure, yeah, will do. But, somebody lost a phone and I found it on the grass. Could you make sure it gets back to them?"
"I'll see what I can do," he said, shrugging half-heartedly.
"Thanks."
Bill didn't wait around but bolted through the campus gate as soon as he could. The day was still young and if he hurried, he could manage to go to McDonald's before anyone noticed he was gone.
His stomach turned at the thought, but before he could feel sorry for himself, the comms bleeped, like an annoying alarm clock. If not the death and bloodshed, then this sounds will be the cause of his PTSD.
"What?" he said.
"Change of plans," Cassandra said. "I'll need you to keep an eye on Pablo from now on. The closer to 24/7 you can do it, the better."
"Why?"
"I'll explain tonight. Do you have any idea where he might go tonight? If he's in public, I'll need you glued to his side."
"Okay, but seriously, what—"
"Great."
And just like that, the conversation ended. Because, why would Bill be worthy of an explanation?
# *author's note- play the song Empty Space by James Arthur for the next bit*
A bar. A place where people drink and smoke and try and forget their problems, but usually end up embarrassing themselves, kissing or sleeping with someone they shouldn't which gets them into even bigger problems.
Bill watched the door through which Pablo had walked through about half an hour before and with a single push of the door, he followed. It was slightly stuffy and the air smelled of beer. There was just enough light for him to recognize tables and cups and silhouettes of guys, whose eyes were on the TV. A football game was on.
Bill took a seat and leaned onto the counter.
"A beer for me," he said to the bartender, looking for Pablo from the corner of his eye. He was sitting in the corner, a group of his 50 closest friends surrounding him. His jacket and pullover were thrown over the arm rest and his tie was on the table, his top button unbuttoned.
"Do you have an ID?" The bartender asked, giving him a small smile.
"Sure." Bill pulled out a fake ID he had gotten from Phi when they left for the mission. It said he was 21, but a 3 year difference wasn't that much.
"Thanks," he said absent-mindedly. He took a sip, sighing as he did. He hadn't had a drink in 6 months. Between Lee dying, Diana and Chloe almost ruining the mission and Cassie being back in his life, one drink couldn't cause more harm.
The crowd roared when one of the players scored a goal, or a touchdown, as he heard the reporter say. Pablo remained in his seat, watching with a passive expression.
"That was a foul move!" a guy yelled at the TV, slamming his glass down, blissfully unaware that the other 99% of the people in the room rooted for the other team.
Bill looked at his reflection in the glass behind the counter. His blond hair was of curls as usual and chestnut brown eyes stared back. He hated how much he looked like his brother. Sometimes, when he was intoxicated enough, he could see Mike in the mirror instead of himself. Sometimes, he also wished it wasn't only in the mirror. His brother didn't deserve to die and Bill didn't deserve to live. Not after how he treated him.
He had returned to their shared room to find Mike sitting with his head on Stella's lap as she rubbed circles on his back. Stella, Mike and Tina were the older kids on the team and if he had been honest with himself, Bill wished to have what Mike and Stella had. Instead, he had made a remark on the two of them being inseparable.
Mike tossed him a bag of McDonald's, laughing at his surprised face as he struggled to catch it. Fast-food was a tradition. Mike found pleasure in sneaking past Phi's guards and hiking to Charlotte to get McDonald's for his team- his family. He'd do it every Sunday while Bill covered for him at practice time.
But today wasn't a Sunday.
"You two should get a room," he commented, throwing the bag of food on his bed. "You're ruining my appetite."
"What do you mean? We have a room," Mike said, his hands lost in Stella's hair as he kissed her.
"A different one."
"He's right." Stella pecked Mike's nose, getting up and smoothing her yellow sundress. "I'll see you later."
Mike pulled her wrist from where he was lying and sat up to meet her lips with his as she whirled around. She laughed, pushing his chest.
"Bye Bill," she said, opening the bedroom door.
"Your dress is ugly," he called behind her.
"Thanks. Love you too!"
Mike took a seat next to Bill, shoving him with his shoulder. "Dick, that's my girlfriend you called ugly."
Bill grinned. "She's still prettier than you, shitface."
Mike began wrestling him, getting his head in a lock. Bill fought him off, swatting his arms and swearing. "Admit Stella is gorgeous and I'll stop."
Bill shoved and kicked, but his brother was stronger. "Oka-okay. She's more blinding than the sun, fuck."
Mike stopped, sitting back upright.
"How old are you, 14?" Bill said. "And what's with the food? It's not a Sunday."
"Your time management skills could just be shitty."
"Very funny. No, I know today isn't Sunday and I know that thanks to Scott and his killer drills." He stretched his stiff muscles. "He's a slightly insane."
Mike didn't reply.
"Mike, dude, have you gone deaf? I'm complaining about dying over here."
"I don't know how to tell you this," he said. His face had sobered up, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked away.
Bill's heart dropped. He knew this was coming but he was expecting to have at least another month to prepare. Snakehead was more invested in the work when he wanted to save his reputation, or so it seemed. This time, Bill's team was going to do the work. "Where are we going?"
"That's the thing." Mike looked at him with hesitation. "You're staying here, Billy. You and Chase."
Bill had nightmares about this. His brother leaving him. "What do you mean? Snakehead told all of us about that woman and his daughter. We're all going."
"Cass and I talked and agreed that you're not ready. We'll only be gone for a short while anyway. It's not a big deal."
"I knew Tina would be a better leader." The world had begun to slip under his feet, a tornado accumulating inside him. Cassandra was his age and she was already a team leader. He thought she was ready, not that she'd exclude him and separate him and his brother.
Mike gave him a glare. "You know as well as I do that's a lie. Cassandra is doing the right thing."
"You think I'm not good enough? That I can't fight?" He swung a fist at his brother' face, hitting his jaw. "There. I can hit and I can shoot, too. Wanna see?"
Mike raised his hands, circling Bill like he was a rabid animal. "This is for your own good. You and Chase should practice and I'm sure you can join on the next one."
"Is it because you love her more than me? She's not your sister, Mike. I'm your brother."
Mike exhaled a sigh of frustration. "That's exactly why I want you to stay here. I'm trying to protect you. This mission is dangerous. "
"Bullshit. I'm as trained as you. If it's not dangerous for you, then it's not for me either."
"Please, don't be angry." Mike's voice broke. "I don't want us to fight over this."
Bill didn't care. He cared about not being good enough to go on a mission. They said he wasn't ready. He begged to differ.
"Just leave me alone."
"Bill, we have to leave for Toronto tonight, I—"
Bill threw his hands in the air. "Then go. Leave me here with these people. Leave." He slammed a fit into the wall, expecting the wall to break from his anger like it did in movies. Instead, pain shot through his fingers. He swore.
"Are you okay?" Mike inched closer, making Bill back away. "I'd never leave you, you know that. Come here." Mike opened his hands for a hug.
Bill's eyes hardened. He clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the searing pain as he held his wrist close to his chest. "Leave me the fuck alone, Mike."
Mike's hands fell to his side. His watch beeped. "I'll see you soon." He picked up his duffel bag. "I love you, Billy."
"Whatever."
#
"Can I get you another drink?" The girl behind the counter asked.
"Another beer," he croaked. Deep down, further than the sarcastic comments, Bill had known Mike wouldn't be coming back when he left their room that night.
He could feel his mind becoming fuzzy, but he had built up a tolerance, hoping some of it still remained and he wouldn't get too drunk for another hour or so. He could still see Pablo from the corner of his eye, but the more he drank, the less he cared. As usual.
"Here's your drink," the girl said, setting down a beer in front of the guy next to Bill.
"Thanks, love. You from around here?" The guy asked.
The girl didn't reply, continuing to work. She stood at 5'5 with a slender figure and long brown hair. Pretty, Bill thought when she set another beer, taking away Bill's empty glass.
"Here you are," she said, giving him a small smile.
"Thank you."
"Hey, I asked you a question," the guy said, grabbing the girl's hand.
"Sir, let go of me." She struggled against his grip, the guy pulling her so she was fully pressed up to the counter.
Before he knew what he was doing, Bill had pushed back his chair. "Let her go."
"We can share, man. S'alright."
Bill shoved the guy away from the counter. "Leave her alone."
The guy swung at him, hitting him in the jaw. Bill swayed back, dizzy. Maybe he'd overestimated his alcohol tolerance. But being surrounded by alcohol was hardly a useful for his sobriety. Or well, what's left of it.
Bill swung back, hearing a crack as his fist collided with the man's face. He was older than Bill by a few years and in good shape. But, he wasn't trained assassin.
As the guy's friends surrounded him, Bill sobered up a little, the adrenaline overpowering the alcohol. He could take them on and win if they went one by one and were unarmed. He doubted either of those were likely.
The guy on the left launched at him at what seemed to be light-speed and delay of impulses due to alcohol intoxication. Bill swayed back again, as someone kicked him, making him collide with a table. He wanted to fight, show them their place, but as his head hit the edge of a chair, pain exploded near his temple, paralyzing him.
Voices drowned out the cursing of the men. A hand touched Bill's shoulder. A soft, tiny hand. What guardian angel wants to deal with me for fuck's sake?
They helped him in a sitting position. Bill could see nothing but blackness for a couple of moments when his eyes refocused on a pair of brown eyes.
"Are you alright?" The bartender asked.
"Yeah," Bill murmured. "He's a dick."
The girl smiled. "You shouldn't have hit him."
"He was harassing you."
"I'm used to it."
Bill frowned.
The girl helped him up, sitting him down.
"Hey, you okay?" The sleeves of Pablo's shirt were rolled up and he had unbuttoned the second button of his shirt but otherwise looked normal. Sober.
"Yeah."
"I was about to jump in, but he made a run for it. My friends went after him."
Bill nodded.
"I'm Pablo."
Bill shook his hand. "Bill. Sorry about bulldozing into you today."
"No worries. Wanna come over to our table, finish your drink and watch the rest of the game?"
"Maybe next time." He better head back, while he could still walk.
"Right, well, I'll see you around then."
He left a twenty on the counter and gave a nod to the bartender, before walking out of the bar, almost missing the door.
When he reached the apartment front door, he was sober and tired. The cold air and walking had helped him feel better and clear his thoughts and sense of balance enough so he wasn't stumbling every so often.
"Where were you?" a voice said in the dark.
"Fucking Jesus, fuck, Cassandra," Bill said, a hand flying to his chest and the other slamming the light switch. "I was working. Unlike you."
He didn't care if he was mean. She deserved to feel his anger. He was angry. All the damn time.
"I deserved that."
"Yes, you did."
"Have you spoken to Pablo?"
Bill shrugged. "Maybe."
She remained silent.
He went to walk to his room, stopping halfway. "I spoke to him."
"I know."
He froze. "Do you? How? You really don't. You never knew anything, you just assumed. You left me in Phi, you killed my brother and then you let me think you died only to come back two weeks ago and have the guts to pretend like nothing happened."
"I thought you'd be better off without me in your life."
"See? There you go again. Assuming shit." He shook his head. "You can be so stupid sometimes, I swear to God."
He left her sitting in the living room just as she had left him sitting on the dormitory building stairs two years ago.
___________
Hey there!
I hope you had as much fun reading the chapter as I had writing it. Bill draws out the best in me, I swear.
What did you think of his take on the situation? Do you feel for him or not? I know I do. Also, what do you think is the reason Cassandra decided they should stick around Pablo and his sister? What did she speak about with Gomez? Any predictions on where her and Bill's relationship ends up going? Will they go back to being friends?
So many questions, so little time to answer them all.
As a little treat, I'll try and post songs from my list that go well with the chapter or I feel could connect to the book in some way. This week's song is Empty Space by James Arthur. I think it fits really well with the chapter even if it is a love song.
'Till next week.
Happy writing,
Sara