The Langley Case: A Nathan Roeder Mystery

Why I hate Nathan Roeder, Chapter two

I think the worst thing about him is how damned convincing he can be. I mean, it’s not that I cared what he thought of me, but when he was there, drunk as the dickens, he had this kicked puppy look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe I’d betray him. Like somehow, he thought I wouldn’t just go ahead and betray my best friend in the whole world if the money was right.

Not that he was my best friend.

I’ve got plenty of friends. Good friends. Compadres. Compatriots. Buddies. Associates. Dancers at clubs. Neighbors.

I know people, okay?

Anyway, the bastard was all up in my face, trying to make me go on this suicide run. We don’t have time to get something else for The Albino, he said. We can’t get help from one of the other two, he said. What if she’s trapped and can’t get out by herself?

Ass.

It’s not that he doesn’t make valid points. Even as drunk as he is, he does. It’s just that—well, we’d have to be stupid to actually attack The Albino. Me more than him. I live in the Sprawl. He’s just visiting. When all is said and down, he can go back to Town: out of reach, out of sight, out of mind. Sure, it’s a little inconvenient for him. He can’t come back out here. But that’s not my fault. I didn’t fuck The Man’s daughter. (I would have, if I’d had the chance. But I didn’t.) I also didn’t do—what the hell did Nathan do to piss of Raymond? Whatever it was, I didn’t do it.

So how is it my fault?

I’m getting past myself. My point is that he’ll be safe in Town. I’ll still be out in the Sprawl. If we survive at all. There’s nowhere I can hide from The Albino. What am I going to do, go see if Raymond needs another driver? Ask The Bicycle Man if he’ll forgive my involvement with Nathan in the first place and protect me from one very pissed off albino?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

So I’m screwed, if I go with Nathan.

But for some reason, I couldn’t say no to him. I just couldn’t let him get himself killed. Because I knew, without me, that’s exactly what would happen. He’d go in, guns blazing, and he’d get killed. He’d probably take out a few of them. More than I would alone, that’s for sure. But sooner or later, he’d go down. Why? No one watching his back.

When the hell did I get all noble?

I blame Nathan.

I hate that son of a bitch. If it weren’t for him, I never would have known what it feels like to get shot. That wasn’t an experience I was hoping to have. Not something I ever really wanted to know. I could have lived my entire life—hell, that’s it. I could have lived my entire life.

Bastard.

It’s all because of that woman. Not that she isn’t worth it. A smile like that doesn’t come along very often. Those legs could walk into my life any time and for as long as she wants. I don’t really know how else to say it. She’s one hot hooker.

Still, I’m not the one who’s going to get anything from it. I’m not the one who’s going to get to hit that, if you know what I mean. That’s going to be Nathan. It’ll always be Nathan. He’s more charming, better looking, smarter than me. And he’ll live longer.

I mean, he would have anyway.

What a jerk.

I wish I had friends that I didn’t hate so much. You’d think that would be the normal way for things to go. But not me. As much as I make Nathan pay me, as much as I help him out (like at the noodles place), I still can’t help but hating him.

And why do I hate him?

Because he got me shot in the stomach. Not ten hours after getting drunk with me in a titty bar, the son of a bitch gets me shot in the stomach. And when he does, does he immediately take me to the hospital, get me stitched up, so that I’ll survive and be none the worse for wear? No. What are friends for? Friends are for saving your life, right? They’re for helping you out when you get shot in the stomach. Aren’t they? They’re not for leaving you to bleed to death on the side of the road, hoping that they’ll survive and get things done inside in time for you to still be breathing.

What kind of friend just keeps going and makes your sacrifice have meaning? I’m all for sacrifices having meaning, but I’d much prefer to survive the whole thing, so that I can be around to debate that meaning.

What an asshole.

I hate Nathan Roeder.

My only hope is that the bastard manages to get Felicia out before I croak. That and that he remembers I’m bleeding over here, and takes care of me on his way back to Town. Fucking Townies.