Despite her best efforts, Rhea could not find sleep. She didn't want to go out, and after swallowing a few drinks from downstairs, she stayed in her room, hoping the alcohol would knock her out. Clothes were sprawled out on the floor and bed, books stacked on a box beside her bed.
Noise came up the stairs and down the hallway, the sound of a window opening, movement from above. She looked up and opened her window but couldn't see who was up there, so she started climbing out her window until she was on the ledge poking her head up onto the flat gravel roof where she saw a form sitting on the edge of the front of the bar. She pulled herself up and walked over to where Mirek sat smoking a cigarette, swaying softly in a drunken state.
"You come up here a lot?" Rhea asked.
"Sometimes."
She took a seat. "You were pretty good...at The Pit the other night."
"I know." He took another drag on the cigarette.
"Where did you go to fix your nose?" It was still bruised, creating a dark spot on his tan skin where white tape ran across it.
"I know a guy."
"You fight a lot there?"
He again shrugged. "Now and then."
"Can I have one?" Rhea nodded to the cigarette pack. Mirek shrugged and handed her the pack and lighter. She took a lungful of smoke and coughed. Mirek laughed, but she liked the nicotine in her system. Finally felt somewhat relaxed. She took another drag on the cigarette.
"You miss Cambodia?" he asked suddenly.
"What?"
"You were there for a while, right?"
"Got stuck. I wouldn't say I miss it, but I liked how different it was from my home."
"How'd you end up in Asia?"
"I got a job on a shipping freight from Seattle across the Atlantic. They didn't hire women, so I pretended to be a boy. It worked in the engine room. I stuffed my hair under a newsboy cap and pretended I was a mute. But my secret started to unravel after we docked in Ho Chi Minh. One crew member caught me changing out of my work jumpsuit and saw the wrap around my chest."
Mirek laughed. "Yeah, no way to cover that up."
"I was getting sick of the job anyway. Had to move on."
"Moving away from something?"
"I didn't want to leave home, but there was nothing left to salvage."
"Sounds like another broken story."
"It was good once, though. I grew up on a ranch. I was one of the best barrel riders in the state by the time I was fourteen."
"You were a cowgirl?"
A small smile stretched Rhea's lips. "I was. We rose cattle and elk—seven hundred acres of space all to ourselves. My father taught me to ride. He knew everything about biology. With animals, he knew how to herd them, care for them, keep them safe, how to treat them when they were sick or hurt. My favorite thing was watching the elk. I've always thought they were beautiful. When I was little, I dreamt of riding them. I tried it once; I nearly got trampled. But I liked sitting in the grass listening to their calls."
"I've never seen an elk. Are they some type of cow?"
"No," Rhea laughed, "they're a species of the Cervidae family. Moose, whitetail deer, those kinds of animals."
"Moose?"
"Yeah. They're kind of like massive deer. They got huge antlers and terrible eyesight."
"And what's a deer again?"
"Next time I'm at Megan's, I'm getting you a book on North American wildlife."
"You know I can't read."
"I'll read it to you."
"I don't want you reading to me," he snorted.
"Why not? Or at least look at the pictures."
"Why do I need to know about deer?"
"Because it's good to know things about the world. Broaden your horizon. Aren't you curious about what kind of life there is on the earth?"
"Not really."
Rhea sighed. "You should. You might be surprised what kind of stuff there is. Not only are elk's beautiful, but they're tough. Sometimes I'd see bulls rival. They like to pace in front of each other, trying to intimidate and assess each other's size and fighting prowess. Their antler wrestling can get brutal; sometimes, I'd see chunks of flesh and fur get torn out.
"We farmed too," Rhea continued, feeling the words pour out of her before she could stop them. "My father's knowledge of horticulture and botany was also very expansive. He could grow almost anything. Carrots, corn, lettuce, onions, hot peppers, pumpkins, winter squash, anything that liked the pacific northwest climate. But most he learned about plants came from my mother. She passed when I was seven, but by then, she had taught my father everything he needed to know to hold his own land. But his hobby was watchmaking. We had eleven clocks in the house, and my brother would change each one to match a different time zone to confuse us."
"You have a brother?"
"Had. No idea where he is now. Probably dead. He liked to starve himself after my mother died. It got worse after my father's passing. I try not to think about him. But I remember he liked biology too and took up many animal-related chores. I taught myself how to fix the ranch engines since my dad never was the technical type. I could fix anything. The tractor, the old pickup truck, the ATVs, the post hole digger." Rhea felt her heart sink as her long-lost memories surfaced.
"What happened to it all?" Mirek asked. He didn't sound like he cared; he wasn't even looking at her. His fingers were toying with a shoestring from his boot. But he asked, and that was enough to surprise her.
"My family struggled with mental health, especially my father. I didn't understand it till I got older. I thought his strange behavior was normal until I grew old enough to decipher unnatural behavior. I was able to spot his mood swings. Like when he fell into a manic episode: jittering movements, runs at midnight, excessive cleaning of the barn. Sometimes he would speak so fast I couldn't understand what he was saying. His depressive episodes were worse. He wouldn't get out of bed, sometimes for days, and there was nothing my brother or I could do. He would wander into the barn sometimes, and I'd find him curled up beside the horses, straw sticking in his hair and manure smeared on his pants.
"He tried an endless string of medication, but nothing worked. Mood stabilizers made him drowsy and nauseous, and antipsychotics made him shaky and restless. Though he would be able to get out of bed in the morning and go to sleep at night, he told me he hated medication. It took too much of himself away. He wasn't all there. It made his thoughts foggy and dulled his emotions. He didn't like to feel nothing, he told me. It felt too much like he was dead. But that's what happened to him in the end. Shot himself in the barn during a thunderstorm. I was eighteen.
"After that, my brother's health continued to decline. He had engaged in self-harm in the past, and he had huge scars on the inside of his thighs. My dad never knew about that. My brother made me promise not to tell. His weight was always on the edge of malnourishment, but after my father's end, he barely ate at all. I tried so hard to keep what I had left of my life together. I know there was a struggle with my father, and there was a huge hole in my life after my mother passed, but I still remember some of the good. The times my father would lecture me about ecology and energy flow in ecosystems, a blaze of passion in his eyes. It was the only time I feel his mind could clear, and the mechanisms could run smoothly, if only for a moment."
Mirek said nothing, Rhea unsure if he even realized she was sitting next to him. His eyes were on the Hara-Kiri Bridge. His hand crept to his jaw, where the wound was trying to close. He gripped the scabbing skin and ripped at it, drawing fresh blood.
"You wanna get a scar?" Rhea said with a glance.
"Like I give a fuck."
A black car pulled up below outside the bar, and Rusakov stepped onto the sidewalk. Rhea groaned.
Rusakov turned his head up to the two on the roof and waved. "Ah, just who I was looking for. C'mon down, I have to speak to you two," he shouted and entered the bar.
Mirek stood and swung himself through a window, Rhea doing the same, and went downstairs, taking seats opposite Rusakov at one of the many empty tables.
"How are you two?" Rusakov asked, the smell of liquor lapping off his breath. They both said nothing, casting peeved glares. "Good. Well, Rhea, I just wanted to remind you I'm collecting your payment next week." Rhea stayed silent and crossed her arms. "Also, one of my cars hasn't been starting lately. I dropped it off at the shop and would like it back within a few days.
"As for you," he turned to Merik, "I have a special job for you. One of my collectors was stabbed and left for dead down on Actriz Plaza. So far, I have found no witnesses and have no suspects. Two million rupiah if you can find him by next week. I suspect it has to do with the current war between the cartel and the Taring's since I've declared sides with Mendez."
Mirek grinned. "That's not like you. Taring's giving you a hard time?" he mocked.
Rusakov glared at him. "I just don't want the Taring's running the Candimas-1 district. They're sloppy and erratic, and they get their arsenal from outside dealers. Mendez and his men are frequent buyers, and he has a better hold over his men than that foolish head the Taring appointed after the death of their former boss. Mirek, if you confirm the stabber is from the Taring's, I'll officially declare war on the gang."
"It was the lieutenant, Santos."
"W—How do you know already?"
"It was one of his men that took down the cartel runner. If your guy was killed in Mahkota, the kill would be trusted by a lieutenant or underboss. Santos is good with a blade and knows how to move unseen. Or nearly so."
"Well, then bring me the head of lieutenant Santos. Tomorrow, I declare the extermination of the Taring Gang."
"Not tonight?" Rhea asked.
"I'm tired. Tomorrow though, first thing," said Rusakov. "I just got back from Datume trying to plan out landing strips with some dumbass rum-runners from Manila that have an in with a construction company."
"You do any planning or just get waisted?" Mirek asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I got stuff done…I think. But it's a low-profile job. I don't want anyone knowing about new access to my city."
"It's your city?" Rhea glared.
"Mine more than anyone else's. I've been here longer than any of you kids. I've turned this place into what it is."
"Congrats. It's a real beauty."
"Oh, you know you love it," Rusakov said with a pat on Rhea's head. She shrunk away, and he laughed as he rose from his seat and stumbled out the door.