Micah Jennings

1.13.05 Thursday [finding Reginald - II]

(Continued from yesterday)

I turned from Tony and leapt to the nearest support beam, swinging my body below it and twisting a half rotation. From this position I grabbed a lower rail, squeezing under this one as well. Finally my hands grasped the ladder and I slid down to the ground. My feet only touched the ground momentarily before I pushed them to move again, fleeing the scene by vaulting over construction materials to both lose my pursuers and avoid losing the judge.

As I rejoined the swarming crowds I took off my jacket, turned it inside out, and put it back on. It’s a little trick I’ve learned to use when chased, throwing off your pursuer by changing colors. I think it’s from a movie.

I followed what I’d seen of the judge’s path, improvising along the way as I tried to deduce where he’d park. As I approached the parking deck, I was suddenly confronted with a blinding light. This is it, I thought, looking into the headlights. They’ve finally found me.

But I was wrong. Tires squealed noisily on the slick concrete, spraying an acrid mist into the air. The driver rolled down their window and yelled at me.

“Whassa matter with yew boy? I coulda darn well killed ya!”
Me and my mom both, I didn’t say. It was the judge. I studied his face for a long moment, his features locked in resentment as they peeked from the window of his smoking Mercedes.
“Sorry,” I said.

As I stepped aside, we both took off. He to his luxurious little home, I to my car, to follow him there.

I realize now that it was actually a good thing for that incident to occur. Since it set him into a small fit, he became noticeably irritable on the road, focusing on getting home. As a result, he didn’t take the time to look around and notice me, mimicking his every turn.

The ride was a short one, and led me, surprisingly, to an apartment complex. Nevertheless, Reginald is living it up in his space, which actually caps the building at floor eleven. I learned this from the mailboxes in the lobby. Fortunately it was already dark once I scampered up the fire escape and observed him from outside his window. I’m almost certain this will be an easy one. He’s got all my favorite traits—methodical organization, predictable working hours, and a even a helpful touch of OCD. It was rather boring to watch. Usually it’s amusing to see people’s behavior when alone. Some dance or sing, and many talk to themselves or do quirky movements or noises. But Mr. “strong arm of the south” was totally uninteresting.

He flipped on the news when he got home (roughly 6:30) and watched it for thirty minutes while sipping from a Heinekin. At 7:00 he made threw a TV dinner in the microwave and ate it in front of rerun sitcoms. At 8:00 he pulled out some files jammed with papers and thumbed through them for a while. (I’m assuming it was regarding law, but I forgot my binoculars.) At 10:00, he went to bed.

I snuck back down the fire escape and returned to my car, getting home a little before eleven. It was a totally exhausting day. I’m tired just thinking about it.

-M.J.

posted by Mr. Linty @ 11:27 PM