Chapter (7) It's Just A State of Mind

It's Just a State Of  Mind

 

While Mags was away Trent made an effort and started to tidy the place. He could see the bourbon bottle calling him over to pick it up, but for some reason he was no longer listening. With the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other he pressed the cork in the neck with determination. At the same time he crossed over to the old filing cabinet. He'd bought in the early days, it was old and cheap, he put the bottle on the top. The grey drawer fronts had little handles and they looked like 5 sad faces sitting on top of each other. He'd never filed much of anything in them. Pulling open the top drawer Trent was greeted by a dirty whiskey glass and some old letters. He took the glass and put it in the sink then returned to the pile of papers. A few old letters, unpaid bills and a handful of flyers. Trent checked through them quickly and then dropped them on a stack of old newspapers on the floor. He searched around and found an empty cardboard box behind the couch. The papers were quickly thrown into the box and they were then joined by another empty bourbon bottle, a few corks and a Flash Gordon comic.  Trent looked at the front of the comic and read the story for a few minutes. The futuristic drawings on the comic didn't seem that exciting anymore. They'd got some of it right. Trent thought to himself  'Been there done that.'

As he opened the second drawer a brown leather strap lay half coiled in the bottom. Trent’s snub nosed colt nestled snugly in the brown leather holster. A quarter box of .38 specials lay next to it. Trent picked up the holster and pulled out the Colt. He hadn't handled it in a while. He checked it wasn't loaded. The metal was cold to his touch, it needed a good clean too. As he held it, it brought back images and memories of how and why he'd used it. He was remembering too all those lost friends. Trent didn't know how long he'd been standing staring at the gun in his hand. Just for a moment he felt ashamed, just for moment. No time for regrets. 'Got to get rid of it and get a new one, can't risk using it again.' he thought. Slipping the gun back into the holster he placed it into the drawer and pushed the drawer shut. Trent went through the other drawers one at a time gathering a pile of old useless bits of paper and letters.

It was time for a new start and Trents' mind turned to the job he'd been tasked with. He had two days, the prospect of something going wrong hadn't escaped him, especially after the brief meeting with Alexandra 3. He'd been paid, very well paid, so he had to go through with it. It wasn't just the money he'd received, Trent was intrigued although he had admitted to himself that he was a little scared. A sudden rush of doubts filled his mind. What if it all went wrong? What if the thug didn't run away? What if he killed that writer kid any way? What if he killed me?  Trent decided to think about other things.

What was it Camille had said, “We can always bring you back and do it all again.”  That prospect didn't appeal to him either so he guessed he'd better get it right the first time, well actually, the second time.

The letter from Camille was still lying on the table. Trent sat down and read it again before putting it into his jacket pocket. He didn't understand why but he missed that doll, he didn't fully trust her, but he missed her nevertheless. Trent knew she wasn't real, well not the way we think of real, but she sure was a babe. He was feeling hungry now and thought to himself it would've been good to have one of those oven things in the icebox.

Trents framed detective permit hung crookedly on the wall. He'd had mixed feelings when he'd hung there, it seemed so long ago now and Trent had been an angry young man. As he straightened it his thoughts filled with images from the past, it started to upset him. Trent shook his head as though to wake himself up. He quickly changed his thoughts to making a list of things he needed to do.  That was Interesting he mused. Things HE NEEDED to do, and not WANTED to do. He hadn't fully understood Camilles' words at the time.  Maybe there was a difference? Maybe it did it matter.  Here, now, in his world today. Maybe it did. Maybe I gotta find a better way to express myself he thought. Maybe I'm thinking too much. I gotta get this clear in my head or it'll keep on coming back.

He needed a 'want' word. Christ he was supposed to be a detective he should be able to do a simple thing like find a word. Trent had a sudden flash of inspiration. A dictionary, brilliant, he knew there had been one around here somewhere. With his mind racing Trent turned his head. The cabinet, bottom drawer, ancient memories from before the Bourbon epoch were filtering back. Trent opened the drawer, a rush of pleasure took him by surprise. Yes got it.

He sat down heavily on the couch and quickly thumbed through the pages, he quickly found the page of 'W''s. Trent ran his finger down the list. 'Want' he read each word out loud.

“Wish for.” No not really,

“Fancy.” No that's for dames,

“Feel like.”  Naa that's for a drink,

“Crave, Desire, Yearn for.” As the list of words continued Trent realised this was going to be harder than he thought. Trent sat and stared at the page for many seconds before he decided to pick one see how it worked.

“Desire.” Yeah, he liked that, Desire, that was going to be his new word. Things he would DESIRE to do, it sort of organised things in Trents' head. It would help him to differentiate between wanting in a greedy way and wanting something to change. My god I haven't used my brain so much in years, he thought.

For a second he was tempted to applaud himself. Get back on track Trent, concentrate. Things he NEEDED to do, right. The office NEEDS a good clean. Trent knew he'd got that one right. Trent got up and made his way to the little restroom. He glanced at the half empty Bourbon bottle on the table. That NEEDS to go too, he got that one right, but it was tinged with a tingle of regret. Trent hadn't taken note of the time  and had just finish shaving himself when his thoughts were broken by the gentle knocking on the door. This time it was accompanied by a familiar female voice.

“Mr Trent, Mr Trent, please open the door for me.” It sounded like Maggie so he guessed it was. Trent opened the door and was greeted by a parcel laden Maggie. She'd been gone a quite a while and had obviously been busy spending the money he'd given her. Reaching down he took the large bag by her feet. Trents eyes couldn't help noticing the new shoes. As he straightened up he saw she was wearing a real nice new dress, a flowery blue pattern, it suited her. He'd never noticed that Maggie had such a shapely body before. As he backed into the room Maggie shuffled through, her arms gripping two large brown bags and her warm body close to his. He felt her sweet breath on his face.

“Sorry Mr Trent.” She brushed past him and stumbled to the table letting the bags drop onto it.  Trent back heeled the door to close it.

“Oh, Mr Trent, what do think? Is it Ok?” With excitement in her voice Maggie did a twirl to show off her new dress.

“Mags you look amazing.”  He said. She did too.

“Why thank you sir.”  She said doing a little curtsy.

“I think I got most things Mr Trent, I spent nearly fifty dollars. I've never had so much money at one time Mr Trent.”  Her voice dropped an octave, then, “I hope that was alright.” 

“My dear Mags, that's perfect.”  While Maggie had been gone he'd been busy trying to figure things out. He'd come to the conclusion that if he wanted to be a good P.I., a legitimate P.I., he needed to get his office organised.

“There are things that we have to do Mags. Now, do we have a tin, you know, something we can use to keep money in?  No matter, we'll find something and put what's left of the $100's into it as office cash.”  Yeah he'd learned a lot in a short time, not just about book keeping either. Before she could answer Trent continued.

“A phone Mags, we need a phone in here, we can't go on using that old wall mounted thing down the hall.”  Maggie was busy getting the coffee things out of the cupboard under the sink. She stopped for a second and turned to face him and picked up the note pad and started to write.

“I can go to the AT&T office uptown if you like and make some enquiries for you.” Trent was surprised, he hadn't realised just how efficient Maggie could be. He stood for a moment and looked at her, at her lithe, slim body as she moved around. Her new dress was bright, it suited her. Her hair was a light brown mess fastened at the back with a small tortoiseshell clip. Trent realised underneath it all she was quite a doll.

“Mags, leave that now. Please make us both some coffee.” As a sudden afterthought he added.

“Did you get some cake Mags?” Without turning Maggie answered him.

“Yes sir, I'll just clean a couple of cups, be about 5 minutes is that ok sir?” This 'sir' business was new. Trent wasn't sure he liked it.

“Mags how long have we known each other?” The question caught her off guard.

“Not sure what you mean sir.”  There was a little vibration her voice again.

“HOW LONG have we known each other?” he repeated the question and it came out with more force this time. The look on Maggies' face changed, became more anxious.

“I...it's been almost two years sir.” As she spoke nervously Maggie continued with her preparations for the coffee. Trent had known her for twice as long but he didn't know if he should tell her, didn't know if she'd understand.

“Two years eh, so what's with the 'sir' stuff Mags?” Maggie turned her head towards him. She stopped her ministrations and hesitated before speaking.

“Well sir...Mr Trent... if I'm going to be your secretary I have to act like one, and the ones I've seen at the movies talk like that.” He was impressed with her attitude but Trent didn't want her to feel she was beneath him, he didn't want a skivvy, she was too good for that.

“If it's ok with you Mags, I kinda like it when you call me Mr Trent.” He didn’t see the little smile cross her face. The hiss of the gas stopped, followed by a pop as Maggie turned off the little stove. She lifted the old kettle using a tea cloth so as not to burn herself. The room was quiet except for the noise of the water as she poured it into the coffee pot. The sweet smell of fresh coffee invaded the room.

“Alright, Mr Trent it is.” Maggie smiled. Trent looked around, it was all familiar but it felt different somehow. The office was still old and dirty yet somehow different. Trent said nothing he just stood looking around at the room. How had he let himself get into this state? Where had his life gone so wrong? Trent had more questions than answers but this wasn't the time to reproach himself. He'd seen and experienced things, up there, now doubts and questions filled his head. As he was thinking this Trent tilted his head back and looked at the grubby ceiling. He must have been like that for a second or two and hadn't noticed that Maggie was now by his side.

“Mr Trent are you Okay?” He heard the concern in her voice. Bringing his head back to normal Trent reached out and took the mug of hot coffee from her tiny hand, giving her a big smile as he did so.

“Yes Mags. I'm fine. Some things have happened that I'm not sure you would believe, but yes, I'm real fine.” As he took a sip of the hot black liquid he added

“Thank you Mags, thank you.” 

“That's okay Mr Trent. Look I got you some cake.”   There, on the table, were two small white plates and on each was a large slice of chocolate cake.

“Lovely.”