I was right about being out of practice. I managed to cut myself, just under my chin, then make it worse as I made a second pass. Doherty heard me swearing and stuck his head in.
“What’s up, Antonius? Can I call you that?”
“It’s called ‘low-profile’, mate; false name, pay in cash. Anyway, I’m fine, just cut myself.”
“You want a hand?”
“Not from you, thanks.”
“How about from that cutie from the desk? Veraa.”
“Matter of fact, I’m meeting her for a drink later tonight,” I said with a frown. “Dunno how I managed that, with a crusty old beard and the smell of a thousand goats on me.”
“Animal magnetism, eh?”
I laughed at the horrible pun. “I shouldn’t laugh. Really, that didn’t deserve a laugh.”
“You’re weak because you’ve spent eight months talking to yourself, and everyone knows laughing at your own jokes doesn’t count,” he said matter-of-factly.
Once I’d finished shaving, I came back out to the room, where Doherty had laid out a tee shirt and cargo trousers for me. He’d even picked up a cheap faux-leather wallet for me, into which I stuffed about three hundred plat.
“No underwear?”
He paused. “Djann, I knew I forgot something.”
“Ah, forget it. I’ll freeball for a while. Been doing it for the last eight months, another couple of hours won’t hurt. You know, if you don’t have access to a shower for more than a week, it’s better to freeball.”
“Why’s that?”
“Underwear can get mouldy, because of the heat and moisture. Literally. Mould. Fungus. Growing on your—“
“Yeah, okay, I get it.”
He faced the wall as I jumped into the baggy cargo trousers. He’d got just what I was expecting; cargoes in a woody brown colour, probably from the Disposals store on level two, and a dark grey tee. Along with my black boots, it made me look like your average spacer-for-hire. I’d pick up more clothes and a bag to hold them in later, once I’d delivered the package to McBride. The rest of the money was tucked into the top of my sock, all safely hidden inside my boot. I’d been using that trick for years, and not just with money.
“Hardly recognise you,” said Doherty.
“Believe me, that’s a compliment.”
I popped into the bathroom to comb my lank hair a bit, and even I was surprised at the difference a shower and a shave will make. When I walked back out, Doherty was playing with my sidearm. “Think you should take this with you?”
“No need. Nobody knows I’m here.”
“But think of where you’re about to go.”
I laughed. “It’s only Reena’s. I’ve been in there before, despite what I was saying to McBride. I’m a big boy; I can handle myself.”
He tossed the sidearm and holster back onto the bed, while I rolled up the rotting-meat-smelling clothes and dropped them on a chair as we left.
Life on the Fringes 