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Kelvin opened his office door and waited, shifting his weight from boot to boot. He'd not had time to change, and the black clay that stained his dingy clothes chilled him to the bone. The Doctor strode toward him, open coat flapping so much Kelvin expected him to shed feathers and caw.
Water stained the calf-length duster from the shoulders halfway down the man's back. He carried no umbrella, and wore no hat. Rain tarnished his long silver hair, making the stalk of his neck appear too thin to support his head. His hair dripped, running down both cheeks, mimicking tears Kelvin doubted the man had ever shed.
"You have the place. The time." The Doctor didn't bother to wipe his face, only stood in the doorway and dripped.
"Come in, we need to talk. Yes, I've got the location and time." Kelvin crossed to his desk and pulled out a map. Sunny had refused to give him anything in writing, and it took him forever to find the site based on her directions. He had too much riding on this to risk the Doctor claiming the directions weren't clear.
He used a red Sharpie marker, wrote a #1 on their location, a #2 at the barn, and drew a line along appropriate roadways to connect the two. "Paved road most of the way. This last bit here," he poked the map with the marker, "dirt drive that follows along a levy. Narrow, my truck barely cleared the trees. Probably better for you to send in a few small vehicles than a double-wide that'd get stuck." He offered the map. "There's dogs staked out front, but they won't bother you. Just stick to the path leading into the barn. You'll want to store your—uhm, product—on the second floor, in the loft. Fights are in the pit down below, so you can do your business privately. It's not fancy, but you get what you asked for."
The Doctor tipped his head, peered at the map, but didn't take it. "What time tomorrow?"
"About that." Kelvin dropped the map on the desk and moved to put distance and solid oak furniture between them. "Sunny said her guys won't pit the dogs in bad weather."
The Doctor straightened. "Dogs don't fight in rain?"
"That's not it." Kelvin figured the dogs fought anytime, anywhere, as commanded and offered welcome respite from boredom. He figured the times between fights, chained up alone and without hope, must hurt like hell on earth.
"Rain makes dogs sick?" The Doctor stared. "Mother's Pomeranian hated rain. Made him sick. Neptune died." The man's silver eyes nearly disappeared with saucer-size pupils.
He's on the same shit he pedals to the kids. No wonder he's antsy. "No, rain doesn't make them sick. But it keeps customers away."
"Doesn't keep my team away. We mail medicine. Neither rain nor snow nor—"
"Not talking about your customers, Doctor. These dogfight guys, they've got their own clientele, some of them moneyed thrill seekers who bet huge numbers. They don't want to get their cufflinks wet."
"Wet cufflinks? Why—"
"Never mind the jewelry, it's a figure of speech. They don't want to get out in bad weather, okay? So it doesn't make financial sense for the fight to happen if nobody comes out to play."
"Current weather report posted a flash flood watch for this county. Possible destructive winds." He sounded like a computerized weather announcement.
"Right. That's right, Doctor. And they're talking possible tornado watch that's likely to last through the weekend.” He didn’t mask his frustration. Bad enough he had to deal with these scumbags and dirty his hands. If it weren't for Sunny's threats, he'd call the whole thing off and make tracks out of town. “Doctor, these fellows like to watch other creatures get bloody, but don't want to risk the wind mussing their hair."
"You made a promise."
"Yes, I made a p-promise." Kelvin took a breath. Hell, he hadn't stuttered since high school. "Sunny says they already canceled tomorrow’s show."
"She promised, too." The Doctor put both hands to his face, wiping the wet upwards from cheeks to forehead, and smoothing hair from his brow. He left his big hands on his head, manicured nails grasped fists full of hair, tugging, tugging. "Promise is a contract." Tug. "Promises to Mother can't be un-done." Tug-tug. "You," tug-yank, "promised." Yank!
A tendril of wet hair fell to the floor. It made a red stain.
"Hey, stop. What're you doing?" Kelvin winced, reached out and immediately pulled back. If the guy wanted to snatch himself bald, so be it. "They canceled tomorrow, and moved up the time. Same place, but happens tonight, to beat the weather."
"Tonight?" The Doctor dropped his hands, one still clutching a hank of hair. "You promised. Sunny promised." The hand, hair still clinging, reached for his gun. "Broken promises reap punishment. You will keep your promise."
"You bet, Sunny and I have every intention to keep our promise." Kelvin rubbed his own bald head. "Those guys that set up the dogfights, though. They didn't promise. It's on them, not on me or Sunny, don't you see?" The Doctor blinked slowly, and Kelvin halfway expected those lizard eyes to shutter above a flicked forked tongue tasting the air.
When his hand moved away from the gun to a phone, Kelvin breathed again. The Doctor punched in a single number, listened, and spoke quickly with what must be latitude and longitude designations. "You have current batches addressed, ready to mail. Move them to the event site now. Yes, immediately. Call me to confirm delivery. We distribute tonight." He disconnected, dropped the phone in his pocket, and smoothed his mussed hair with the other.
"There, see? All fixed." Kelvin smiled, silently congratulating himself the meeting hadn't gone completely south. "Just means we finish our business that much faster." And stop your money-grubbing kid-destroying plot. He had the cops on speed-dial, once Sunny left town with her crazy-ass threat.
The Doctor pulled a stack of bound bills from his pocket and tossed it on the desk. "I keep my promise. Last payment tonight, after distribution." Another creepy slow blink. "When you keep your promise." He whirled, coat furling like a comic strip bad guy as he started for the door.
"Wait. Are you forgetting?" Sunny would throw a fit. Hell, she'd play her "insurance" card if she didn't get her share. "What about Sunny? I'm supposed to collect for her."
The Doctor whirled, and the coat flared outward again. "Already paid Sunny “The Babe” Babcock when she shared vital news that you killed BeeBo."
Kelvin sat down so hard, his teeth jarred.
"Sunny cried and cried and cried. She liked BeeBo. I liked BeeBo, too. But I understand you tried to help me, tried to keep your promise." The Doctor donned one of his fake smiles. "I never cry. Mother says real men don't cry, so I never cry." He took three long strides toward Kelvin, and stood above him, a lean black wraith. A thin trickle of crimson ran from his torn scalp down his forehead to the corner of his eye, a ruby tear that grew and grew. "Do you keep your promises?"
"Promises are sacred. You bet." Kelvin stared, waiting for that red drop to fall.
"That's good." He strode to the door, but instead of leaving, the Doctor shut and locked it, and pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'm good at keeping promises. And secrets. I'll help you keep yours as long as you keep mine." The red droplet trickled into the man's pale eye, creating bloody tears that spilled from his slow lizard blink.
