Faust

Saint xavier

         The ladies of night took a glimpse to see I'm not buying today. See-through raincoats, feathers around the waist and neck, sharp-color heels with a band-aid on the bottom. Red, pink, and purple steps aside as I walk by. One of them pursed her lips at the sky and lit up a cig, the other extended her right arm with the back of her palm upwards. One ring...... christ, the market demand knows no limit.

          I ignore the hand and the seller altogether, the latter throws her right arm back as if littering and crouches down next to her competitor.

          Five to six steps away from the hideously grayish steel door of uncle's, a bald guy in his early 30s sitting closest to the pawn shop notices me walking straight towards it.

          "Hey. Hey! Place's closed nothing to see there." Waving his bottle in hand like a traffic warden, the bald guy shouts with a slight hint of urgency in his voice as I skip two steps to the solitary door then proceeds to bang it as hard as I can with my right fist.

          The streets close to the market ain't the safest at this hour and the residents around St Christofer know it well. As the sound of loose screws and chunks of stainless steel tattling door hinges, creating a continuous screeching thunk echoing the mostly empty street of west lanes, five maybe four passers across the street gave a quick glance before clearing out of sight for this foretold trouble for either the man knocking or whoever's inside.
Come on... open the fucking door..
A numbness sores the bones of hand, both mine and the security's passion wears thin but the bald man snapped first.
"You deaf or what, boy?" The other three in front of butcher shop stop their conversation and tilt their heads toward me.

The man was ready to stand up as he press his palms on the handle, possibly moving his ass for the first time in hours. But the motion stops before he can get off the chair, for the dark, almost bronze-skinned man on a stool (a monobloc might decompose under him) facing the desolate movie theater across the street beat him to it.

"Calm the fuck down, that ain't some riffraff."
Between burly and fat, the big fellow soothes his man while striding towards me in quick steps, arms wide open, sleeves of his oversized leather jacket flopping like a boneless pigeon trying to fly.

The last time I saw him was a while back, could only remember the coat was much more fitting back than.

"Good ol Cal, got promoted from the doorman to the head of security?" Grinning by the side of his mouth, the big man lifts the sides of his jacket with his thumbs hooking the collar as accepting the assumption.

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck you and your sense of humor. Showing up after months later without giving a call upfront?" Cal leans on the steel door's handle, positioning himself perfectly between me and the other three still sitting in front of the butcher shop.

"As if the old man would roll up the red carpet and gives me a big hug at the end." I lean my shoulder and violin case on the iron bars by the door with my arms crossed.

"Nope. But at least he won't be closed for the day when you're here....... probably." Cal shrugs and tilts his head back to check his fellows, though the guy's way too much of a  roadblock I can't see what's up.

"Closed for the day?" I let out a smirk and inquired further. Cal raises half of his face along the brow before giving me an answer.
"Yeah. Day off, you know how spontaneous Tío Javier is." How fucking lazy you mean.

"Ain't that hard to argue... but uh....." I scratched the back of my head like I was in a dilemma. "I ran into an acquaintance of mine couple minutes ago, and he told me the place was open this morning till noon...." Cal rolled his eyes and readjusts his position on the door to make himself more comfortable.