The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Forty-Three
Sparrow and Rainey's Accord
Mort
teased Sparrow with the coin. Flipping it into the air, grabbing it
and slapping it down on the back of his hands.
He lifted his
palm, peeking at the coin.
“Tails, Sparrow. You lose!”
Mort smiled down at the coin now in his possession, wondering
how something so small could carry so much power over one man.
But
Mort’s moment of power was fleeting as when he looked up to gloat
at Sparrow’s predicament, he found himself staring down the barrel
of the pirate’s pistol.
How did he cross the room so
quickly? Mort found himself asking, the open end of the flintlock
just inches from his face.
When Sparrow spoke it was cold,
calculating, and full of the promise of an unspoken threat.
“I
want me bloody coin back, Rainey. And I be wanting it now, if you
don’t mind.”
Mort swallowed hard. His eyes danced between
confusion and apprehension. He never expected Sparrow to react as
heated as he did. He took a deep breath, realizing that the Room was
now watching, waiting to see what would happen between Mort and the
pirate.
The writer found his courage.
“You won’t
shoot me. Too many witnesses.”
Sparrow cocked the pistol.
“It has not stopped me in the past. It won’t stop me now.”
Mort pondered the consequences if he held on to the coin. But
he felt he still had the edge.
“Fine,” he agreed. “I’ll
give you your freaking coin. But…” he held up a finger of his
empty hand, the other fisted around the object of their discussion.
“You have to promise to stay the f--k away from my computer.”
Mort caught a brief glimpse of anxiety in the pirate’s
eyes. Pay dirt, Rainey thought to himself.
Jack weighed the
writer’s offer. To have this accord meant he would not be able to
contact Jessi…or Carrie…or Crissy…or Sammi…or any of his
other women. The means was right there, in Mort’s computer, even if
he could not figure it out alone, the ability and the opportunity was
there in that bloody contraption of his.
But there was the
coin: his escape from the curse.
Without it he would be
forever damned and he would never be whole again. The Room somehow
bypassed the curse and he could taste wine and food…could feel the
warmth of flesh when he shook hands with the men in the room.
Once
he was out of the Room the curse would become his life again.
He
needed the coin.
Sparrow lifted the gun away from Mort,
gingerly putting the hammer back and then stuffed the pistol into his
sash, extending his hand.
“We have an accord,” the pirate
said flatly, but his heart was full of hatred for the writer.
Revenge, he thought to himself, was a dish best served cold.