It was a normal Tuesday for Davy Blink.
The rush of customers wouldn’t come until this evening, but you always got the odd eager duck in the earlier hours of the afternoon.
Slouched against the alley entrance wall, he puffed away at his cigarette, watching the crowds march on by in front of him. His cap was slouched like his posture, practically covering his eyes.
No one could get a clear look at him, but he could see everything.
Davy was in his middle years, dressed in basic clothes. His long coat was a dull gray, with enough stains on it to blend him in with the alley wall behind him.
He could always spot the fish before they came to his river bank.
The ones who ’heard from a friend’.
Degenerates.
They all had a coin purse, so it wasn’t like Davy cared.
Swim on over.
’Speak of the devil...’ Davy thought, spotting a gentleman who seemed to be looking for something.
In the current of this street, you had to be walking at a certain speed, or you would clash with someone. This fellow was short, but pretty wide, a natural boulder that the other walkers just moved around.
The gentleman was anxiously glancing about, as if looking for someone.
Until his eyes spotted Davy.
They widened momentarily.
’Now the doubt...’ Davy exhaled his smoke and waited.
The man resolved himself and swam to Davy’s metaphorical river bank.
He seemed a bit nervous, which was only natural.
The fat man looked as if he had some coin. A little older than Davy, but clean. Decent waistcoat, hair recently cut, despite the balding. A stupid little white mustache to match his hair.
Davy didn’t move till the fat man stood beside him, trying to look inconspicuous.
After a moment of silence, Davy took the cigarette out of his mouth and glanced to his side at the newcomer.
"You wouldn’t be lost, now would you, Sir?"
"Ah! Yes. I think... I think I am," the fat man nervously whispered back.
Davy waited, his stare seemingly weighing the fat man down.
"I... um... you wouldn’t happen to be able to help me, would you?"
"Of course. What do you need?" Davy patiently recited, as he had done hundreds of times before.
"I... I need some directions."
"Directions to where?" Davy asked, turning fully to the newcomer.
"To. To some... entertainment," the man responded nervously.
"Of course. I can give you some directions. Come on, follow me, Sir," Davy said, a smile on his face.
Turning, he started making his way down the alley, gesturing for the fat man to follow him.
"Just this way, Sir. I know of some entertainment." Davy encouraged, gesturing friendly with his hands. "You can call me Mr. Fisher. And you?"
"Mr. Bell," the nervous man replied, looking as if he was sweating up a storm.
’The brats better not complain about that.’ Davy mused behind his friendly smile.
"Of course, Mr. Bell. Just this way."
As Davy herded the nervous client through the maze of alleyways, he hoped that ’Bell’ was not the real man’s name. Davy continued to be astounded at the amount of the clientele that came looking without aliases.
Either they were morons, or they just didn’t care.
Not that he had any noble stock in his client roster. No, they had more deluxe services somewhere. A competitor he could never compete with.
After several twists and turns through the stone jungle, Davy finally brought Mr. Bell to a smudgy door. It was a stain of architecture that blended into the rest of the grimy darkness.
"Mr. Bell." Davy began, stopping at the door. "Just to make clear. The cost for directions is half up front, and half when you complete your journey."
Bell followed every word, nodding, taking a few coins out from his waistcoat.
Collecting the deposit, Davy felt the weight and jingled his hand. The noise made his smile even wider as he opened the door behind them.
"In you come, Mr. Bell, and we’ll get you sorted."
Past the moldy door lay a thin hallway leading to some rickety stairs. Both men squeezed in as Davy shut the door.
"Now Mr. Bell, where would you like your journey to go?"
The nervous man paled further, stuttering a quiet response. "To... back to school. An all-boys school."
’Of course. Likely bullied.’ Davy thought with a sneer, none of which showed on his smiling face.
"Well then, right this way, Mr. Bell!" Davy said, turning to the stairs and beginning to walk up.
Several closed doors sat in an equally thin hallway at the top of the stairs. Davy led the nervous man to a particular one.
"This is Ron’s room. Your journey should be about 30 minutes, Mr. Bell. Or it will cost more." Davy stated, eyeing his client.
"No blows to the head. Stomach and legs are fine. Within reason. Punching, kicking, scratching, all fine. No weapons."
"And remember, if you break it, you buy it!" Davy said with a laugh.
Opening the door, he gently shoved the older man in and closed it behind him.
Scowling, Davy walked back to the stairs.
’Fat bastard will tire himself out after five minutes punching the kid.’
Inside the cramped room lay a moldy bed, with a young man sitting at its side. He wore a school uniform clearly too small for him, and it was obvious that he had not bathed in some time.
Not that he could, with a thick iron chain shackling his ankle to the wall.
Mr. Bell took the whole room in within a moment.
His posture straightened, and the nervous demeanor evaporated as if it had never been there to begin with.
An old wooden chair was beside the wall behind him, so he sat down on it, not taking his eyes off the young man.
"So. You must be Liam?" he asked quietly. If Davy had been in the room, he would have been startled at the change in his client. Especially with his voice being completely different.
The young man hadn’t glanced at him once since he came into the room. He just sat morosely at the side of the bed, staring at the floor, hoping it would swallow him up.
Eventually, he croaked, "My name is Ron, Sir."
"I said Liam, not Ron," Bell corrected, his voice a little firmer.
"My name is R—" But he paused. His head slowly turned to look at Mr. Bell. His vacant blue eyes stared through his filthy brown hair.
"How do you know my name?" Forgotten life sparked feebly behind those empty eyes.
Mr. Bell smiled. "I saw your poster this morning. Judging by the state of it, I would imagine your parents have been looking for you for a long time."
Liam straightened, his eyes beginning to glisten. "My parents?"
"Yes." Mr. Bell nodded calmly. "We have some time before Mr. Fisher returns. If you’d like, I can take that horrid chain off of your leg. You can fill me in on how you got here."
The young man blinked, fumbling for words as if to take himself from a dream.
"But. But. Mr. Fisher..." he croaked.
"Don’t you worry about Mr. Fisher," the older man said, his eyes darkening.
"I will be having a separate conversation with him on his return.