There’s No Justice In Killing Part II
By: P.G. Barnett
Tags: Henry And Rebecca, Short Story, Storytelling, Fiction, Stories

My name is Rebecca Wu. And I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.

Part I

We covered the short distance to the writer’s bullpen and stopped where the woman from earlier this morning was sitting. She stood, the length of her slender frame from the soles of her mule shoes to the top of her head, barely five feet, and smiled at us.

“Rebecca, this is Henry James. Henry, Rebecca Wu.”

“I’m really excited to be working with you, Mr. James.”

“Henry?”

“Yeah Sunny?”

“Usually, when someone extends their hand in a greeting, you shake it.”

“Usually someone does, I suppose.”

The lady calling herself Rebecca hesitated for a few more seconds, her arm extended. Then she offered us an awkward grin and dropped her hand to her side.

“Don’t mind him, Becky. He’s the only person working here who got booted out of kindergarten for being an ass.”

“Bite me, Alex…”

“What’s that, Henry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

One of the copy editors rounded the corner of the hallway and sauntered over to us.

“Miss Alexander? Can you break away and take a look a next week’s copy?”

“Sure, David. So why don’t you two take some time to get to know one another? I’ll try to put something on your calendars for this afternoon. You remember how to check your email for calendar invites, don’t you Henry?”

“Again, bite…”

“He’s all yours, Becky.”

We stood in silence as Sunny walked away beside David and disappeared round the corner.

“So, Ms. Hoo…”

“Wu. It’s Korean. Rebecca Wu. And it’s Miss.”

“Okay, Miss Korean Wu. What are your credentials? You’ve ever written anything besides a college thesis or a cookbook?”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Written anything besides a college thesis or a cookbook?”

“Ah, so not only can you not write, but evidently you can’t read either. Otherwise, you’d know I’m the best writer Dark Sides has.”

“One of the best. Sunny has, on several occasions, written rings around you.”

“Oh, you think so, huh?”

“I don’t think, Mr. James. I know.”

After that, we lapsed into a pair of statues, our expressions exuding little more than sullen, glowering petulance. We sat opposite each other in the bullpen, the backs of our laptops facing one another, purposefully avoiding eye contact, attempting to focus our attention on anything but each other.

“So look, if you don’t want to work with me then just say so.”

“Okay, I don’t want to work with you. I haven’t got time to babysit a plebe writer who thinks her shit don’t stink. I’ve got better things to do right now.”

“Like tracking down Dwayne Macy?”

Now we were staring at one another. Actually it was as if we were trying to stare the other one down. When neither of us flinched we knew this contest was quickly going to become a draw.

“How did you know that?”

“I read the damn story, Henry. Surprised that a little Korean girl can read English?”

“Look, Miss…”

“You can call me Becky. That is until you can’t.”

“Becky, look. I’m sorry. I can be such a prick at times.”

“According to Sunny, you’re a prick all the time.”

“Wow, supposed I deserved that one.”

“Why yes, Henry, I suppose you did.”

“So how much do you know about Dante’s death and Dwayne Macy?”

“More than you think. And more than Sunny does right now.”

“Uh, you want to tell me what you mean by that?”

“Yes, but not here. How about hooking up for dinner after work? My treat. Do you know that diner over on Delphi?”

“Johnson’s?”

“Yeah, I love that place. They serve the best damn cheeseburgers in the entire Austin city limits.”

“Wait, you’re talking about greasy spoon Johnson’s?”

“Yes, something wrong?”

“Ah, hell, no baby girl, nothing could be better.”

“Are you always this informal around the women you work with?”

“Uh, afraid so.”

“Yes, Sunny told me that as well. She said if it weren’t for the fact you were such as good writer, she would have asked for another assignment straight away.”

“She said that? That I was a good writer?”

“Not really. I just made that shit up.”

“Bite me, Wu.”

“Back at ya, James.”