Post by RomulusGloriosus on Aug 12, 2015 16:12:28 GMT -8
Jim's nightly activities had changed considerably in less than a month. One month ago he was driving Octavia, Candi, Chrissy, and all of their insufferably wealthy Johns around in one of Thad's limousines while listening to either his mix tapes or the terrible pop radio stations. Tonight, the money - just as much as he ever made doing the job he called "honest work" - came for doing absolutely nothing. The look in the Primogen Klaus von Klempt's eyes when Jim explained the salary he had received from doing business with the Setite told the young Gangrel all he needed to know about what that kind of money meant to the Ventrue. "If you need ten grand from a Ventrue, you offer up a trivial boon," The Mouth had once explained to the neonates of Seattle. Jim was making less than three grand a month...and ten grand was "Trivial."
In the Primogen's eyes, the 'honest salary' that Jim had earned from the Setite was more like a child's allowance.
"Yes...yes, I would be happy to attend...yes, I will tell Thad when I see him...yes, I would love to meet her...I'm looking forward to it. Thank you for your time and trust. Have a great night." Jim hung up his burner phone and threw it onto the dirty old couch in his living room. The former driver for Thad's prostitution ring had not been resting with his free time. The Setite had intended to pass over the reins of the business to Jim before he left for his 'family reunion' in Cairo, but the business had fallen apart shortly after he left because Thad's privileged clientele had refused to work with 'the driver.' Jim had intended to live and let live (so to speak) but Ruby had encouraged him to build the business back up from the bottom.
And so Jim had begun attempting to transform himself from sweet Carl White - the driver - to Mr. White, Thad's protégé. That suit he had bought for the Masquerade Ball had been brought out more than once this week, and he had another meeting at a cigar club with a few of the old Johns on Friday night where he'd talk himself up and how trustworthy he was and how lovely his girls were and how totally legal all of this was. Frankly, Jim didn't have the slightest clue how legal anything was - he wasn't a lawyer, and he certainly wasn't about to hire one - but he had decided to revise the original business plan from a prostitution ring to a legitimate Escort business.
Legitimate Escort Business. Maybe he would need to hire a lawyer? He'd met a lot of lawyers in his time at the strip clubs and the casinos, but none had ever really clicked with him. He had a Financial advisor - his old buddy Jerry would come in handy soon, that's for sure - and a burnt-out government employee, but lawyers? Nope. They tended to think they were a lot more fun than they actually were.
Jim reached into his toolbox and continued assembling his Do-It-Yourself Alarm System next to the door with the help of its instruction manual. Alongside meeting a bunch of hoity-toity rich people - probably the safest place to hide from a Hunter, because you don't want to shoot at a bunch of rich people - Jim had also been arming his Haven against a break-in. He firmly believed that this Hunter, whoever he was, would not just go ahead and blow up the whole apartment building. It may have been a risky move, but that Hunter had gone out of his way to blow up Jim's car when he first arrived in Seattle, not the Motel 86 he had known for a fact Jim was staying in. The Hunter was still human, and that meant that, to some degree, he cared about his fellow human beings - and there were many more human beings in this building than vampires.
It was hard to find shelter in Seattle that was cheap and discreet without being some ancient conspirator who owned whole neighborhoods, so Jim was not too happy about the idea of leaving the Haven he and Joleen had made for themselves. As such, he would do everything in his power to protect it. Unfortunately, though he had been 'suggested' to move, he had been 'ordered' to abandon his 1986 Ford Taurus - a gift from Thad - in the woods with the license plate ripped off. Though he was none too fond of the station wagon - Thad had mistakenly gotten him it while attempting to get him a 1985 Ford Escort, which was remarkably close considering Thad was a centuries old vampire from Egypt - it was now the second car Jim had lost since arriving in Seattle.
'I shouldn't even bother getting another one until this Hunter guy is...gone.' Though many Elders - especially that old Russian Ventrue - would mock him for showing compassion for the Hunter, Jim did not like the idea of the Hunter being killed because of him. "But he wants to kill you! Either you or he dies, which would you prefer?" That's what the Elders would say, and indeed, the Beast raging within Jim wanted to tear the man's face off and eat it. But Jim the Man still just wanted this guy to leave. He seemed like a good guy, and the world needed more good guys. Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone?
The alarm 'beeped' red, and Jim put in the code to turn it off again. It worked. So now, in addition to the window shutters and multiple locks, he had an alarm system to wake him up in case the Hunter decided he wanted to finish them off during the day. 'Not that he couldn't just go to his friends in the Police and get a warrant. They'd give it to him in no time, especially when the apartment has shuttered windows like ours...' Jim groaned. Hopefully the group of Elders who had undertaken defeating his Hunter would get to him before the Hunter got to Jim. Or the Hunter just left. He really wished he just would.
'I wish I knew his name,' Jim thought to himself, 'I wish I knew his life. I wish I knew why he wanted to kill me so badly.' The young vampire reached his left hand towards the spot on his right arm where the crossbow bolt had barely pierced him. 'I probably never will. Dmitri and London will destroy his mind, and Ruby will destroy his body. He will be destroyed completely, and I will never even know who he was.'
Jim tested the alarm system one more time and then shut the door.
Oh well.