DJ in Malia.

The welcome bell twinkled lightly around the calm environment of the inn, the door opened and an old man, slightly hunched, entered afterwards. The receptionist shot his head up at the arrival of the newcomer as he smiled his practised smile.

The old man, with multiple layers of clothes and a big black fabric-made bag, sauntered towards the reception desk set by the entrance door of the inn. He looked around with his large doe eyes that looked younger and full of dreams compared to the one an old man should have.

While the curious man looked around, the man at the reception scrutinised his new customer up and down. The old guy had a long white beard, a greyish moustache and cowboy boots contrasting his fifty layers of clothing. A dirty white satchel that hung at his side waist with brown strings and a metal-like mouth.

He looked fat but not unhealthy.

The receptionist noticed the large fabric bag, held by the man, was oozing with a bunch of artificial jewellery articles, neatly packed in clear plastic packets, and he deduced the old man as a merchant looking for business in Malia.

It wasn’t uncommon to see merchants travelling to Malia with the purpose of enhancing their businesses. The town was known for many characteristics like fruitful trading opportunities and benefits, among other various traits.

That’s what the old man must be seeking, probably.

Once the customer made a stop in front of the receptionist, he dropped the heavy bag on the ground with a thud and fixed his curious gaze on the other standing there ready to sputter his greetings.

At the count of three……..two…..one….

“Welcome to Meadow Life Suites sir, how can I help you?” the front desk attendant sang like a usual routine, just like the new guest had guessed.

The old man rolled his eyes internally at the receptionist’s typical lines.

He blew/scoffed through his lips, fanning away the hairy moustache as he leaned his elbow sideways on the marble counter, adjusting his posture in a more relaxed and leisurely manner, and yawned arrogantly as if to convey that he didn’t care about the greetings.

The receptionist smiled nonetheless.

“A-A ro-room” the man mumbled lowly making the other guy lean down as well to listen to what the man was saying.

 “of course. Can I get your name sir?” the receptionist asked, overly excited and widely grinning. The old man tried not to compliment the other’s annoying expression by biting his tongue. It was best for him to avoid any conflicts at a place which is new to him.

“Al-Alberto” he answered briefly and the guy on the other side nodded. He started to note down something in the record book while the old man waited. After initial formalities and unnecessary registration in the suite’s register, the reception boy stretched a rusty key and a small receipt of advance payment towards the old man.

“here you go, sir. Enjoy your stay” the receptionist said with another extra stretched smile and this time Alberto couldn’t hold it in himself anymore.

“y-you lo-look like-like Gr-Grinch wh-when y-you sm-smile” he said pulling open the satchel tied at his waist and digging out a leather wallet overflowing with money.

“excuse me?” the receptionist raised a brow threateningly but soon his eyes widened at the sight of so much money barely held by the small wallet.

That man was wealthy

Alberto didn’t answer though, he even refused to meet eyes with the man at the reception. The one behind the counter watched silently with owl-like eyes as Alberto slammed a few bills on the counter, pocketed his key and then slowly started to gather his stuff.

When the receptionist didn’t get any reply, he rolled his eyes but along the process, his eyes caught a glimpse of a shiny object, probably a dagger, tucked under the dirty satchel tied at the old man’s waist, when the old man stood up straight after holding his bag tight.

Wealthy as well as armed.

They both met eyes once again before Alberto started towards the lobby that would lead him to his room, leaving the receptionist in an impressed yet confused state.

The inn was a small crammed place with a range of only thirty rooms. The three-floor building was yellow and old but it had three stars hanging out on the display board of ‘Meadows Life Suites’, showing off its achievements.

Alberto didn’t care about the building though. The old man didn’t care about anything, from the overly-acting receptionist to the strange-smelling hallways of the inn. All he cares about is the purpose of him being in Malia.

Twisting open the door of the rented room, Alberto entered along with his heavy luggage and quickly closed the door behind, not wanting to be watched by any curious eye lurking in the hotel.

He placed the bag on the wide table of the dresser and then sighed loudly, rubbing his face roughly before locking eyes with his reflection.

“fu-fuck” he muttered staring at himself in the mounted mirror right in front of him.

………   

Few hours ago 

Malia was a town located in the outskirts of the country, a small majority lived there doing their own things respectively. People there called the town fortunate for it being far away from the eye of any mafia surrounding it.

The town originally came under the supervision of Pyro but at the same time, it was neglected and was left just with the label of possession, possession of Doukas’s.

The lack of interference from superiors and control over the town made it flourish on its own accord.

Malia was considered a hub of different businesses, both legal and illegal. Alongside the various rising economic activities, the criminal side of the town was no less prominent. Many people living there offered great interest to the outsider merchants and traders, and approached them with attractive proposals, only to lure them to their trap.

Some were robbed and, in the worst cases were murdered.

The detective was no foreigner to the actual culture of Malia. He has seen several people who have got the taste of that mysterious place in terms of loss of millions, robbery and killing. Malian people were popular for having a bunch of skills when it came to conning and harming newcomers.  

Jerry cursed the unknown caller for the umpteenth time with every profanity he had in his vocabulary as he shuffled against the last seat of the rackety bus. It was only the second stop towards Malia out of seven but thankfully, the bus was nearing its station for the next journey making the detective hold for a little more.

Because Jerry was ready to jump out of the bus just to breathe for a normal moment.

The detective was instructed to travel under the guise of an old man, a businessman of artificial Tibetan jewellery, a reasonable and logical enough way to earn money when the festival season among the villages in Malia was approaching.

 The purpose was to hide his identity and provide him security from bad people. An alone man with no purpose in Malia was a direct way to attract trouble, so it was good to have a pretentious purpose that could help Jerry stay his ground if questioned rather than getting looted and harmed in creative ways.

Although the boy had protested against the constantly increasing demands by the caller regarding everything in the matter, he knew that his beauty and fragility could get him in serious trouble before he could complete his task.  

The boy was stuck between lords for god knows how long.

The detective was still memorising the directions he had to follow for when he reached the town, the way he had to talk, the way he had to behave with a certain accent and certain dangerousness in his tone that can scare people who possess ill intentions.

But it all seemed really hard with an old woman snoring beside him in aggressive tones.

She was fat and ugly, with a bunch of piercings on her face, her mouth red and leaking with whatever she was eating before taking her beauty nap.

Jerry rolled his eyes.

Damn her and her loud snoring.

After what felt like forever, the bus stopped under a shade made of steel. The small station was full of different people, families and friends who were travelling to various destinations while the announcement counter announced different timings for the arriving and departing buses every two minutes.

Jerry jumped out of his seat as soon as the door of the bus opened and rushed to get himself out before anyone else could. The boy rushed to get his luggage from the luggage storage compartment, tapping his foot against the ground impatiently when it took the helper more than two minutes to open the storage.

He picked up his heavy bag and cursed once again. The get-up of an old man with several layers of clothes, that he wore to make himself look round, was proving to be a hurdle in everything, even in his thinking.

Once the boy had his time to breathe properly in the fresh air, a growling noise produced by his stomach caused him to smile. He rubbed his covered belly twice as he ventured towards the small stall of food and ordered himself a glass of warm milk with two days-old butter cookies.

Anything will do since he was hungry.

As the boy sat down with his food to munch on, the detective side of his mind once again stirred with burning questions regarding the unwelcome state of his life.

DJ wanted to ask so much from the caller who caused his life to change upside down, he wanted answers. No, he demanded answers, but the mysterious man never gave him a chance to speak. He just says what he deems necessary and then cuts the call without hearing a word from the boy.

This is not an acceptable behaviour now, is it?

Fuck this life!

He cursed in his mind, sitting at the bench stools in front of the stall while sipping his milk with small crumbs of old cookies swirling inside. The boy was so lost in his thoughts, so much worried and scared for his future, as he switched tiny, shiny round marbles in his free hand to get a hold of his anxiety.

What is going to happen to him If anything goes wrong in Malia?

Who is the caller, helping him and guiding him?

Is he walking from one trap to another?

A sudden ringtone blared in the quietness of the dark and Jerry flinched at his spot. He grimaced when a few drops of milk dropped on his black pants and vanished as they seeped deep into the fabric.

“wh-wher-e is-is tha-at sh-shit who is-isn’t p-picking the-the c-call” The detective muttered in his old pretentious voice as he looked around with a frown, seeking the stupid human that has his phone on full blast and isn’t attending the damned thing.

A sting at his side made him turn around and a woman in her later sixties with no teeth whatsoever pointed at his hanging satchel, emanating light as it blared.

Did she just pinch him?

“you are that shit” she stated with a toothless teasing smile. Jerry felt his face heat up instantly under his guise of an old man and his nose turned a bright pink. The boy quickly pulled out his device and clicked it silent before looking at the caller.

He rolled his eyes when on screen it showed ‘private number calling’. The detective sighed before picking up the call and almost instantly that sigh turned into a choked inhale of breathing when on the other side Ezekiel said hello.

His breath hitched and horrifying, electrifying chills ran down his spine. The boy stood up so quick, against his old age and slightly hunched back, that it made the very old woman look at him with wide eyes.

Shit!

He had been successfully avoiding the calls from lords all day, specifically from nine in the morning when he didn’t show up.

They must have known about him fleeing the country by now, must have searched him everywhere only to find him gone.

Oh! What will he do now?

With breath stuck in his throat, Jerry discerned that he had to take the call and talk, he didn’t have any option because he had already picked up the call.

“Hello? Jerry?” Ezekiel called and Jerry gulped.

“h-hell-llo” he stammered miserably as he tried to control his breathing.

“where are you my dear, we have been looking out for you all day. You weren’t at your office as well. What happened, tell me. Where are you?” Ezekiel shot question after question and Jerry felt himself getting scared of his own voice.

“I…L-Lord I…….” he stammered.

“I know it’s difficult to find Yael my dear….. but you could have said no to me and I would have understood” Jerry knew fully well that it wasn’t the case. If he had said no, he would have been resting under six feet of earth, but Ezekiel doesn’t need to know about his opinion.

“I….a-am g-goin-g to –to M-Malia Lo-lord” he delivered and for a moment Ezekiel didn’t utter a word back. Jerry was sceptical of the situation even more now. He wanted to tell Ezekiel about the men at his place but he decided against the idea.

It wasn’t suitable now.

“I thought….I thought you had bailed out of this case my lovely boy. I was so disappointed” Ezekiel said with an emotion Jerry couldn’t get.  

“I- I w-will br-bring ba-back L-lord Yael. Do-don’t wo-worry Lo-Lord” Jerry muttered lowly as he heard the announcement of the next boarding.

“I-I will s-see yo-you s-soon L-lord” he quickly delivered and dismissed the call before the station name could be announced. The unknown caller had advised the detective to stay conscious and alert all the time and that included the safety of his location.

There were three more days to travel until he reached Malia and the boy braced himself as he watched the bus filling with passengers.

The last seats were already reserved for the older people.

With paranoia and anxiety bubbling in his chest, Jerry placed the empty glass back on the bench, picked up his jewellery-filled bag and sauntered towards the bus with an elderly walk.

People giving him way automatically, keeping the old age in mind.

Once settled with everything he needed, the boy turned his phone off and closed his eyes with a loud sigh. He prepared himself mentally for the upcoming, unknown events as he rested his head back on the headrest of the seat, ready for another five hours in the old, smelly and constantly moving bus.

The bus operator closed the door, yelled something to the travellers enthusiastically and with that……The journey to the mysterious town called Malia resumed.