Wednesday, July 23rd, 2076
Al felt better than he had in a long time as he cruised his Porsche up through the posh neighborhoods of Wimbledon, Chelsea, and Kensington to Alyce's shop. Pain in the ass as she was to both his head and his heart, he had really enjoyed his date with her the week before. Reluctant though he was to admit it, in fact, 'enjoyed' would be an understatement. He'd felt giddy like a kid in the days since, and each night - especially late at night - it had been all he could do to concentrate on his to-do list instead of just show up at her place, whisk her away to some all-night joint for coffee. He'd allowed himself to forget all the reasons he should be depressed instead of happy - what the hell, Alyce was a smart cookie - maybe she could succeed where She had failed to convince him he was full of shit.
The job he had now, this urban merc thing, you could get dead if your shit wasn't together. Except that he'd never get killed, so he didn't worry about that. But while he enjoyed the flexibility and down-time this work offered, he'd be damned if he would let it turn him into some layabout granola. So he kept busy, and over the weekend and into this week, that had meant his least favorite activity - shopping. His bang-bag was nearly depleted, and there were ideas he had for his cars that were as exciting as they were illegal. He hadn't found everything on his wish list - nor could he have afforded all of it if he had - as well as it paid, this job had some major overhead - but he'd gotten a lot at the Prospect, and, eventually, most of the rest from Chastity. Only hitch had been a trio of geezers that had taken him for a punter one night (Al congratulated himself on his interest in the local lingo), set up a fake buy to roll him. Maybe it was because he talked proper American English. Or maybe Chastity had gone psycho on him again and was trying to get his attention. Whatever - they'd come hard, and after he'd killed the first one, well, no percentage in leaving witnesses or enemies around....
But in between acquiring restricted explosives and SOTA vehicle components, he'd also had time to plan today, and he couldn't help being excited about it. It was mid-morning now and he had the whole day and evening planned. The show tickets on short notice had been a trick, but, like the dinner reservations, the right amount of nuyen still talked. Besides, it wasn't as though he'd have considered going anywhere he'd have to wear, well, anything but what he always wore.
The weather was clear and it was going to be warm - as usual, Londoners seized the rare opportunity to dress down, and the pavements were teeming with scantily clad eye candy. He was glad for the sun roof as it let the rays shine down on his face - he looked the same as he had when he'd called on Alyce last week, except that he'd been feeling a bit like a hippy this morning and taken his knife to his beard - a ritual his irrepressible manhood foisted upon him once a fortnight or so.
He'd texted her last night to make sure she was free clear though the evening (assuming she'd make herself so if she wasn't already), and now he pulled up in front of her shop. It was open this time, so he sauntered in, taking a look around in the light of day, with customers and all. Figured she'd spot him and make her appearance when she was ready.