Page 8 of Gates of Tartarus

The men all make sounds of protest in unison, and Elizabeth rolls her eyes. I shrug, slightly uncomfortable and a little embarrassed. “I… uh... I don’t have a passport.”

Elizabeth looks at me carefully through narrowed eyes. “That isnothingto be embarrassed of, Kailani. Not having ways or means isn’t–”Fallon clears her throat softly, which I’ve come to realize is a tell for getting Elizabeth to focus. “Right. We don’t have time to discuss this at the moment. But you should be proud of where you come from and where you are now. It’s just time to think about where you want to go. I understand it has been somewhat of a struggle to... to make things follow the path you desire they would travel. But ways and means, Kailani? That’s where I come in.” She nods towards Fallon and says, “Passport.”

I move to protest, but Elizabeth waves me off. “We’ll have you prepared for next time,” she says, brooking no argument. “I’ll see you when I return.”

The 18th Amendment

Friday, 2 November – Kailani

After Elizabeth leaves, Maddox decides to send a couple of us to interview the woman who was with Bianchi the night he died. Normally I’d go with Hideo, but he has a court case he needs to testify at, so it’s either Jonah or Walker with me. I’d prefer Jonah, for obvious reasons, but Maddox ends up assigning Walker, and, trying to be a team player, I go with it and don’t complain.

Before heading out we review the available information regarding Anthony Bianchi’s deathagain, but there’s nothing new, nothing strange, nothing alarming. Against all odds, it really seems like the fucker just drank too much and passed out on the way home. Just the timing is fucked up and incredibly suspicious, so we’re running down leads to cover our bases. After saying goodbye to the rest of the guys, we walk to the car together, and I’m quiet as I run through the details again in my head.

“How long do you want to plan for this?” I ask as I consider our options.

“Eh. Not too long, I think. It’s just cleanup. Don’t worry,” he says, almost, but not quite, sarcastically. “You’ll be back in time for your lunch date with Shotridge.”

My brows go up, and I tilt my head to look at him. Jonah and I have developed a habit of grabbing lunch out in the courtyard and binge-watching sitcoms together. Usually I’d spend lunch with Deo, but he’s been so preoccupied with meetings and work lately that Jonah and I kind of fell into our own little thing. It’s nice not to have the pressure of talking and to escape for a while from the constant pressure of the office. I didn’t even realize Walker had noticed – he and Maddox always disappear together to have what I assume is their own bro-time.

I bite back a sharp reply and really take in his slightly dejected demeanor, then say softly, looking at him, “Walker, you’re always welcome to join us. We just watch stupid shows to blow off some steam, but you can hang with us any time. I just thought you spent that time with Maddox. We didn’t mean to exclude you.”

The fuckerblushes. I don’t even know what to do with myself, it’s so freaking cute, and he rubs his hand awkwardly on the back of his neck, obviously not expecting my reply. “Ah…” he says gruffly. “Maddox can be boring as hell sometimes. All work, no play, you know?”

Smiling at him, I say, “Well, offer's on the table, yeah? We just finished a bunch of ‘New Girl’, and I’m pushing for ‘Brooklyn 99’, but Jonah wants to revisit ‘Friends’. I could use a vote on my side.” He glances over at me consideringly, like he’s trying to figure something out, but we’ve reached the car before he says anything, and both of us switch into work mode.

The ride over to the bar is silent, but pleasant. It’s not an angry silence – it’s more of an anticipatory silence. Walker seems on the edge of speaking several times, just the way he inhales and pauses, but then never does. The music is good though, and it gives me time to plan how we’re going to do this. When we arrive, I turn to Walker slowly.

“Listen, I know you probably want to barrel in there and just–”

He interrupts me, saying, “I think it’s probably best if you handle this one and I hang back. I’ll just blend in the background. There if you need me, but otherwise…”

I stare at him, surprised, and he flashes his dimples at me.

“Where’s Walker, and what have you done with him?”

He shrugs enigmatically, and we walk towards the bar together. The outside of the building is fairly run down, with paint peeling off a poorly hung sign, and one of the windows boarded up. It’s on a dirty corner where two streets meet, the door facing an unlit alley full of dumpsters and debris, a solid-brick building with no windows on the opposite side of the thin passageway. I shiver slightly.I’m gonna need a shower the minute I get home,I think as Walker opens the bar door for me.

We both pause briefly in surprise. 18th Amendment is a dark bar. Heavy, shining woods and bright brass fixtures line a long, thin room with hidden tables off to the sides. It’s like walking into an old speakeasy, faux gas lamps on the walls giving flickering shadows life. It’s a surprisingly beautiful bar for being in a fairly unsavory area, and I look around more carefully, taking in the quality of the top shelf, the cleanliness, the art, and the staff. This may look like a dive bar from the outside, but clearly the clientele that frequents 18th Amendment is not from around this area.

“You been here before?” Walker asks under his breath, and I shake my head minutely.

“We need this on our radar,” I mutter back. “Bad things happen here.”

“You picking something up?”

I’m about to answer when a large, incredibly muscular man I can only assume is the bouncer approaches. He doesn’t look mean, or angry, just cautious. He knows we don’t fit here, not exactly, but he can also tell we’re not uncomfortable in this environment.

“Can I help you?” he asks, voice unexpectedly smooth. When he speaks it twists a deep scar that slices from his earlobe to the corner of his mouth. It makes him look maniacally happy, and dangerous, but the feeling coming off him is nothing more than curiosity, so I focus on his eyes and ignore the jagged tissue marring his face.

“I’m looking for Chantalle?” I ask politely, and shutters close over the man’s face.

“No one here by that name.”

Sighing, I poke Walker in the side, and both men look at me slightly surprised. “Flash your shiny thing,” I say. “Yours is more impressive than mine.”

Walker smirks while taking out his badge. “Ooo baby, youknowmine’s impressive. But your shiny things ain’t so bad either.”

Looking critically down at my cleavage, I grab my boobs with my hands and push them up a little. “I think my girls are offended. ‘Not so bad’ isn’t the nicest way to describe something, you know.”