Carefully Kush pulled the nib of his pen across a scrap of vellum.

A drop of in
k began to pool on the page and he began swearing. The past twenty minutes spent
trying to repair the pen had been pointless. The nib wasn’t salvageable. Star
ing at the page he continued to swear under his breath, then looking to his left
at the half finished drawing with a large dot of ink in the middle he began to
swear more loudly and threw the pen at the wall. It hit tip first at an awkward
angle between two bricks, the nib bent and the ink reservoir cracked splatterin
g ink all over the wall and floor. He swore again and kicked his desk causing i
t to slide across the floor screeching and scratching new lines into the hardwoo
d floor. Although this had been one of his more lucrative careers, it was certa
inly not one that he intended to pursue long term. He sighed and looked at the
clock. Six hours to finish and he still had three drawings to do. It was the mi
ddle of the night and his .05 nib was ruined. There were no shops open at this
hour, and all of his backups were at the office, which was also closed. He swor
e again and reached for the phone. Thom would have a spare that he would lend h
im, and considering they were working on the same bid, he was sure he’d be up.
Just as his fingers closed around the receiver it rang. He swore again, pretty
sure he knew who it was. He jabbed the send button with his thumb but didn’t sp
eak. Just listened to the heavy breathing on the line, and considered hanging u
p.
After a few breaths Jasper rasped “Kush. Don’t hang up.” He still didn’t reply,
and his thumb moved over to the end button. “Damn it Kush, I don’t have time f
or this bullshit.”
Kush sighed, clearly hanging up would not be a solution, Jasper had that tone in
his voice. There was no way he was finishing this project; not tonight, not ev
er. Jasper had a new assignment, he could feel it. Exhaling with unnecessary v
olume Kush replied “I’m here, but really I don’t have time. I’m in the middle of
something.”
“Yeah I’m sure, but you know and I know it doesn’t much matter, you’re not finis
hing. So pat her on the ass and tell her to get out.”
Kush tried to choke back a snort, but enough made it out for Jasper to hear.
“Just as I figured, still alone. You know being immortal doesn’t mean that you
can’t have a love life”
“Look Jasper, that’s none of your business. Just tell me what you want so I can
get it out of the way.”
“No can do bro. We’re gonna have to meet for this one.”
Kush sighed loudly. “Where?”
“Same place as always. What name are you going by these days?”
“Bob”
It was Jaspers time to snort, “Nice, really nice. Why didn’t you just go for do
uche? Never mind. You’re an idiot. Be there in twenty minutes.”
Kush looked at the dead receiver and swore again. Even at night it would be a s
tretch to get there in twenty minutes, and Jasper knew it. Compared to dealing
with Jasper, his fucked up assignments and the unbearable rules, being an archit
ect was fantastic; a dream career. He sighed again and shoved his black cell ph
one into the pocket of his jeans, and considered ringing his boss now to tell hi
m that he wasn’t able to complete the assignment, then feeling peevish he decide
d not to. That guy was the reason he was in such a great mood to start with. M
aybe he didn’t have anything to do with Jasper calling, but then for all Kush kn
ew maybe he did. Either way, the jerk had given him this assignment at the last
minute so he could play with his mistress in Paris. Perhaps having only seven
of the ten full size illustrations for this proposal would help him to learn his
lesson. Probably not though, more likely Kush would not be hired by another arc
hitect or structural engineer in the next century. Then Kush laughed out loud,
Meril wouldn’t be getting even the seven that were done, he was quite confident
that in six hours he’d be hundred if not thousands of miles away, and there wasn
’t time before he met with Jasper to drop off the drawings. This was a career k
iller, but he was ok with it. It was just about time to get a new career starte
d anyway. He’d get on it as soon as this assignment was done. And knowing Jasp
ers assignments, he’d have lots of down time, to consider just what that next ca
reer would be.
Jasper was the reason that being immortal was unbearable. Kush was convinced th
at if Jasper hadn’t shown up on his door step 100 years ago, he’d still be relat
ively happy. He would have found a way to deal with being immortal. As much as
Jasper wanted to take credit for telling Kush he was immortal, they both knew h
e had never need to say it. It was pretty clear to Kush at that point, he was 5
0 and still looked like he was 35. He had survived a few illnesses that most pe
ople don’t, he had also survived a few accidents that he shouldn’t have. He was
reckless, he was daring death to claim him and it never did. Jasper had ended
that pretty quickly. He had introduced rules, rules that Kush was happier witho
ut. But there was a power in the rules, once he had heard them he was forced to
obey them. Well not forced, but the punishments for disobeying them were so se
vere that he might as well have been forced.
The first rule he was given, the rule he hated more than any other, was no more
racing. Just the broad statement, no racing. Kush was formula one driver, and
he couldn’t race. Two words sent his world crashing around him. At first he did
n’t believe it, he laughed. Laughed so hard he doubled over choking for air. J
asper just stared at him, that was the first time Jasper called him an idiot. J
asper explained that there were sever punishments for breaking the rules. When
Kush asked for an example, Jasper just said “they’re much worse than following t
he rules, just don’t break them and you’ll be fine.” It was hard to take him se
riously with his stiff upper lip and know it all attitude; so he didn’t. Kush w
asn’t used to playing by the rules, and he wasn’t ready to start. The next day h
e went to the races as usual. Realizing the meaning of the rules was worse than
any collision he’d been in or witnessed. For the first time in his life he fel
t deep regret and he truly wished for death. He hasn’t broken a rule since, in
a hundred years not a single one of Jaspers insufferable rules had been broken.
Tonight was not the night he was going to break a second rule. He’d be there on
time. Spinning around on his stool, so that his back was to the drawing board
, Kush glanced quickly around his studio apartment. Realizing that again Jasper
s timing was perfect, he gritted his teeth. The laundry was done, the dishes we
re clean, he’d eaten his last few meals out, so there was almost no food in the
fridge. There were no excuses that he could use to delay departing. He got up,
stretched and pulled on his favorite black leather jacket on as he walked over
to the stainless side-by-side. He quickly scanned the empty shelves and pulled o
ut the milk, turned around to the sink and poured it down the drain. Then he op
ened the cabinet under the sink, grabbed the garbage bag, threw the empty jug in
and walked out the door. As he headed for the stairs a smile crept up on him.
Although Jaspers attention was undesirable, it was a good excuse to let The Cat
out. Slowly a grin spread across his face, and he picked up speed taking the c
rumbling stairs two at a time.
The Cat was his only real luxury. It quickly became clear to him, that being im
mortal meant that he had to live a subdued life, it wouldn’t work to stick out t
oo much. So he’d gotten a studio apartment, in a quite part of town, he worked
a series of average jobs, and performed with average success. He didn’t get inv
olved with spirited women who would expect him to call. He didn’t have close fr
iends. He drove a silver four door sedan that was a few years old. He saved mor
e money than he spent. But The Cat, well it really didn’t fit in with his publi
c persona at all, it was the one exception to an otherwise perfect veneer. The
Cat. Just it’s name made him smile. Every time he heard the word cat he smiled.
The heavy steel door squeaked on its rusty hinges as he pushed it open. His gaz
e quickly swept across the room coming to rest in the furthest corner of the gar
age. There it was; just beyond the reach of the lights, in the only dry corner o
f the garage, covered in a black tarp. No-one dared to park near it, even though
it was the only section of the garage that didn’t have rusty pipes leaking on i
t. Although few of the other tenants had seen it, somehow they all knew to keep
back.
Reverently he approached it and began to carefully roll back the tarp, exposing
a jet black 2010 Ducati Superbike 1198 S. He let his eyes lovingly roam over it
for a moment before carefully shoving the rolled up tarp into the steel I-beam
above the bike. Then he pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, and straddled
the bike. His grin turned stupid as he started it. He’d never let anyone see h
im like this, and realizing he was grinning like an idiot he quickly glanced ar
ound, in the off chance that there was anyone about just after midnight on a Sun
day. There was no-one there, he heaved a sigh of relief. People tend to rememb
er you if you show any emotion; and surely dressed in black gazing with adoratio
n at a Superbike that is loudly purring he’d be remembered. Most of the tenants
had failed to notice that he even existed; except for old Mrs. Simmons, and she
’d be dead soon anyway. He allowed himself one deep breath then pulled his helm
et on and headed for the doors. It was a twenty-five minute ride, that he had s
eventeen to make. He smiled again, the bike could do it, and he’d have no probl
em making sure that she did.