Nomad: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  Sisto’s eyes widened. “The bad breakup was with that guy?”

  Fitz nodded. “No one knew about us aside from Tommy. When Tommy died, my heart was broken, man. I wanted to disappear, get out of the life. I told Púca we could go and do anything and be anything and it would all be alright, as long as we were together.”

  Sisto didn’t know what to say, so Fitz went on.

  “Púca said the 3S life was all he knew, and he always dreamed about rising the ranks. He wanted that President patch. He was driven and focused and didn’t want something like love or a scandal or admittance of being gay, to hold him back.”

  “So Púca stayed in Saratoga City and built an empire behind the shadow of the club, and you went off to find your Zen?”

  “Basically, yeah. I came back a few years later and things were different. Púca leveled up to Pres like he said he would, and my heart wasn’t into the life anymore.”

  Fitz had a look of puzzlement as he didn’t know how to proceed with his next statement. “Listen, I am who I am and I’m sorry that if you think I kept this from you but—”

  Sisto cut him off with a huge hug.

  “Sisto, you are way more accepting than I gave you credit for, bravo.”

  “If you’re in love with that guy,” Sisto pointed to the closed office door, “then that means…you aren’t trying to date Ama?”

  A grin plastered across Fitz’s face. “Ah, that’s what the hug was about. Ama and I are just friends. We have lunch, dinner, movies. We talk. I don’t have many friends.”

  The statement made Sisto feel like shit for giving Fitz such a hard time all the previous months.

  “Dude, you and I are best friends,” Sisto stated.

  Confusion rose on Fitz’s face. “I got the impression you didn’t like me?”

  “Well, I liked you just fine, man. I like you a lot more now that I know you aren’t trying to…”

  “Steal Ama from you?”

  “Well, she isn’t mine to steal, but—”

  “She feels the same about you, you idiot.”

  Sisto’s eyes glazed over a moment. “Really?”

  “She knew what you were doing all these months and didn’t want to pressure you into anything. She respected the fact you wanted to put the past away with your feelings for Detective Caden, before pursuing anything.”

  Sisto hugged Fitz again, this time out of excitement for the news Ama was interested in him.

  “Sisto,” Fitz spoke as he was embraced in an awkward bear hug.

  “Yeah?”

  “You do realize just because I am gay doesn’t mean I want to sit and hug you all fucking night, right?”

  Sisto loosened his grip but couldn’t put down the smile from his recent discovery. “Sorry about that. So…you and Púca are tight. I mean, close. I mean…”

  Fitz stared at Sisto, eyebrows raised in amusement.

  “Sorry. You ever see that Netflix movie The Old Guard? You’re like those gay guys. They kicked the shit out of everyone.”

  “Not all gay people are dainty and feminine. Why are we having this conversation?”

  “Sorry. I just want you to know I still think you’re a fucking badass that could stomp baby skulls with your boots if you wanted to.”

  The statement made Fitz squint in confusion.

  “Nevermind,” Sisto said, realizing he was straying from the point at hand. “You think we can bring Púca in on this and have him help? Or at least, not blow our cover?”

  “Give me a bit of time, alright?” Fitz said as he pushed open the broken office door, before closing it behind him.

  The muffled conversation was more coherent now that a hole the size of a door handle had been present, but Sisto couldn’t hear anything outside of his mind.

  Ama was into me the whole time, Sisto laughed with joy.

  CHAPTER 26

  Andrick had been feeling a withdrawal starting to itch at him. Realizing there was no one to blame but himself, not even a make-believe Devil on the shoulder named Tappy, Andrick felt he was going to spiral if he did not kill soon. At the very least, he hoped to be able to play with his prey before the end of the night. He had thought he would be able to chum Fitz Ackerman off to a corner and murder him right in one of the open office spaces after the meeting. He was not so lucky, as Púca instructed Mason and crew to be ready to leave before lunch the next day to branch away from the event and head to Baltimore.

  Púca was throwing a wrench in Andrick’s otherwise ample environment. There were so many drunk people that Andrick thought about simply taking a screwdriver out of his hidden tool kit on his motorcycle and give a quick pop into someone’s jugular on the way to the beverage station. Frustrated, Andrick had been tuning out Mason as he spoke about the game plan to him. He had sent Freddy and Rug out on some task that escaped Andrick since his thoughts were wandering.

  “Listen, if we can pull this off, this will be a big thing for you,” Mason spoke in a grooming fashion that rubbed Andrick the wrong way.

  “How so?”

  “When we get back home, the boys will not know you from Joe Smith off the street. Coming back with a huge heist under your belt will jump you ahead on the respect factor much quicker. Our guys are a family and while I consider you family already, the crew is not easygoing when it comes to letting outsiders in. Get me?”

  Andrick nodded. “Okay, so you are wanting to head off to Baltimore tomorrow, a heist in three days, and then meet back with the event as they hit the coast and take State Route 1 down to Miami?”

  “You got it.”

  “Will Mr. Ackerman be joining us since he was in the meeting as well?” Andrick asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

  Mason gave Andrick a silly look before replying. “Púca doesn’t think anyone knows but he prefers dick.”

  The statement confused Andrick a moment.

  “Yeah, he and Fitz used to be lovers. Púca was already a lieutenant and gets the job done. There are no bylaws against it, no one ruffles his feathers about it. There were rumors but nothing confirmed until he was already appointed Pres. Personally, I don’t give a fuck. I doubt Ackerman was at that meeting for any other reason than to tickle Púca’s balls after we left.”

  “Oh my, to each his own,” Andrick said, ingesting the new information. “So, they are still lovers? You would think he would want someone he could trust to go along for the ride.”

  “He trusts us. Fitz is just…a relic of Púca’s past. We are going to get this done and ride the wave of success it brings the club.”

  The two men remained silent until taking the long way out the far West exit. Upon approaching the crowd, Andrick could see a commotion occurring on the dance floor. There was a black woman in her late thirties in a spat with a berating drunk man. Andrick watched the incident unfold as a very fit black man in his early thirties approached the two and said something, causing the drunken white man to look back. Andrick could see a vulgar act of sign language made by the drunk man’s tongue as he looked back at the woman.

  A crowd gathered and Andrick could have sworn in the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow slip through the entrance doors that had been guarded when he entered himself an hour or two previously. Due to the fight occurring, it had drawn the two armed men to go towards the dance floor. Andrick instantly became more intrigued at the possibility he was watching a staged event unfold. The armed guards shoved their way into the crowd and broke up the fight, telling everyone to get back to having fun or they would send word to shut down the event.

  An empty threat, but nonetheless, everyone dispersed and started among their business. The black couple wandered off, but the drunken white man was being loosely detained by the guards to find out what happened. Once realizing the man was sloshed, it looked like they simply cut him loose to go on his way. There was no point to detain and bring such an insignificant issue to their boss. The boss that no doubt paid them a hefty check to stay sober and watch guard of the door they left unattended for a
t least five minutes. Their boss was starting to throw wrenches into Andrick’s plan as the way he envisioned the Mustain pitstop was quickly deteriorating.

  Andrick followed Mason back to the spot Freddy had scouted for them and upon walking up, a fire had already been started by one of the two minions. Both Freddy and Rug already had a cup full of beer and were chatting as the men approached.

  “Boss,” Rug acknowledged. “Everything alright?”

  “Boys,” Mason started. “Things are moving in a positive direction. We take care of this thing in Baltimore and we will be sitting pretty. All of us.”

  Freddy with his boyish smile turned to grabbed two red cups filled to the top, handing them to Mason and Andrick. The two took the foam-topped beverages and joined around the fire, embracing the embers as they gave warmth through the chilly evening hour. Andrick never trusted anyone in life and while he was somewhat comfortable with the men surrounding him at that moment, he was always assessing. Rug, the overweight, and raspy-toned henchman had started to relax his body language since the morning news of Mole’s demise. Freddy seemed to have lost his reservations about Andrick the second he saw the volleyball court upon arrival. Then there had been Mason.

  Mason was harder to read than most Andrick had come across. Mason came to him and let him in the tight circle very fast and very easy. Andrick was unsure after the recent conversations if the invitation into the mix of bikers was actually because he trusted him from the barfight awhile back or had an ulterior motive. The only thing that put Mole in bad graces with everyone had been the stories that Mason revealed. There was nothing to back them up, other than blind faith that he had been speaking the truth. Andrick looked at Mason’s facial features, trying to witness if he could see any ingenuine acts behind the words the man spoke.

  Andrick started to feel aggression brew in his psyche. Could he have been duped by Mason to kill Mole under false pretenses? It didn’t bother Andrick that Mason wanted Mole dead. Hell, Andrick was going to kill him anyway. The fact that Mason may be hiding something, creating an elaborate story so Mole’s kill could be justified, picked at him. Other inconsistencies started to arise.

  Did you put yourself in a bad position? Why did Mason already have an envelope full of money? If Mole had been diddling little children, why was it not addressed earlier?

  Thoughts started to saturate Andrick as he realized he was normally very careful. He was clean and precise but his lust to end life precedented what he should have seen right in front of him. Mason told him something out of the blue and Andrick took his word for it. Andrick took a knife and an envelope and was seen by hundreds of people leaving with Mole on their way to the falsified location that Mason also already had in his GPS. Looking at Mason as the man raised his cup of beer, Mason had on his riding gloves.

  Had he had them on when Andrick gave him the envelope back? Or the knife back? Was he wearing them when he gave the items to Andrick?

  Andrick could not recall but his blood was starting to boil, not only towards Mason but himself. The question of how he could have allowed himself to be so vulnerable sits wafting in the open air. It lingers and somehow, possibly the campfire, a different light had been shown on the likable and jolly club leader. Andrick started to reminisce about the interactions over the last few days. The overtly kind gestures, the setup to have Andrick defend himself against Mole’s insults at Jammy’s. If anyone knew Mole, it would have been Mason. Mason absolutely should have known that someone with Andrick’s tone and demeanor would have immediately gotten under Mole’s skin.

  A crack in the lightning hot piece of wood took Andrick out of his thought. He looked around and realized that he may have thought he was being initiated into their world, but he was wrong. He was still the outsider he had been two days ago; the outsider he had been his whole life. Mason wasn’t trying to give Andrick a safe-haven. He wanted a scapegoat. Andrick stared across at Mason and realized there would be no task in Baltimore for him. He was going to kill Mason. He would kill him for playing Andrick the fool. He would by default also have to add to his kill list.

  If he pursued his intention to extinguish the manipulative bastard, Mason, he knew it would fall downhill. He would inevitably have to kill Rug and Freddy. Freddy would leave Andrick with slight regret, at least he assumed the feeling was comparable to regret. Freddy did nothing to deserve what was coming to him. Sometimes that was how the cookie crumbled. He would kill them all before they got to Baltimore. Another thought fell into place, like stacked dominos. If Andrick killed them, the only other people that interacted with him in the last few months had been Púca and his bearded God of a boyfriend.

  Andrick took a sip of the foamy beer to hide his delight as he realized he went from intending to kill just Fitz Ackerman, to having a full-on hit list.

  CHAPTER 27

  Sisto, not having the direct number, texted Bell to advise Norton that everything was fine but it would be a while before they left the building to meet up. Sisto then had to drop the news on Fitz that the undercover that Bell mentioned would be showing up was actually SWAT, and it wasn’t one operative, but a whole unit. Púca went pale at the news his party was infiltrated on many levels by multiple arms of the law. Fitz wasn’t happy about the idea of his ex-lover falling into any trouble with the law either. Sisto comforted them both, stating that the sting that they were involved in had nothing to do with how Púca operates his business. The comment seemed to ease both of them.

  The next hour was spent convincing Púca of many different things. Fitz had to explain the true reason that he and Sisto came up to Mustain. That alone made Púca throw an ashtray from his desk against the wall in rage. After talking him down and convincing him not to put a bullet immediately into Sisto’s forehead for seeing what literally happens behind the curtains, Fitz continued to guide Púca down the rabbit hole. It was a jagged map that led from his first interaction with the late Camille Caden to joining Project: Corrine, to Sisto and The Reels, to Sisto’s hunch about one of the guys in Mason’s group, possibly Mason himself, being a psychotic murderer.

  “So…you are a psychic?” Púca asks very skeptically.

  “Guilty,” Sisto said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

  “What are the lotto numbers this week?”

  Sisto frowned and had to explain how The Reels works. Expecting kickback, Púca was surprisingly silent, soaking up every bit of information before responding.

  “And you think Mason is this sick fuck that is going around killing people?”

  “Either him, or someone in his group. There has been a bit of a derailment in how The Reels operates lately, so I can’t be a hundred percent sure.” Sisto admitted.

  “Wait a minute,” Púca blurted as he snapped his finger, “I read about you!”

  Sisto rolled his eyes and just nodded.

  “What did they call you in that article? Heretic Psychic?”

  “I think it was Hometown Psychic, but who cares in all honesty. Look, it seems like whatever you were planning with Mason will have to be put on hold or find someone else. If this is Mason that is going around killing people, we need to put him down.”

  The realization that the plan he just executed in his meeting earlier was shot to shit, it was Púca’s turn to frown. He looked over to Fitz, who simply shrugged that there was no way around the situation. Sisto watched as the two men held a silent conversation among each other. No words were spoken, just body language, and facial features. Sisto smiled after a few seconds but wiped the smirk away as Púca looked back at him.

  “Fine, I will recruit someone else and tell Mason it’s off.”

  “Wait,” Fitz jumped in. “Do you what you need to concerning replacing Mason’s task, but don’t tell him. Let him and his team think the plan is still on.”

  Sisto and Púca both looked at Fitz to further explain.

  “If you tell them it’s off, they may get suspicious. If you keep everything in motion, Sisto and I can cut them off before Balti
more and take them down, away from all the potential casualties that would happen if something goes off here.”

  Púca thought about it a moment and realized he could not afford to deal with legalities at this current time and nodded in agreement at Fitz’s plan.

  Fitz looked over at Sisto. “We need to find a reason for you to get close to Mason tomorrow before they leave. We need to be sure. If we follow them and it’s not him or anyone in his group, we will have gone on a wild goose chase for no reason and that sicko will get through our grasps.”

  Púca held his hand up to his mouth like he was chewing on a fingernail. He continued the nervous tick then spoke up.

  “I know that Mason will check-in with me before he and his team take off. I will tell him to meet up in my office at 11 AM. Why don’t you two be up here by 10:30 AM and then you can leave as they come in. You can do whatever it is that you do,” Púca motioned at Sisto, “and see if it is Mason.”

  “Okay, that sounds pretty good,” Sisto said. “10:30, Fitz we should be fine to meet up here by then, right?”

  Fitz looked at Púca then back at Sisto, giving him all the response that he needed.

  “Okay, I guess I will just meet you two tomorrow. Norton can take me back to the room.”

  Fitz walked over to let Sisto out of the office and whispered for him to not worry. Sisto turned back with that secret smirk plastered on his face again.

  “What’s with you?” Fitz asked.

  “I’m not worried, man. When we were telling him about Mason and he was piecing together who I was, I read his face. He is still in love with you. His cheeks rose a bit near the orbital bones, eyes became more dilated, things like that. Plus, when people can read each other like books, you don’t always have to say words to express yourself to one another.”

  “We still talking about me and Púca?” Fitz and his perceptive sense asked.

  Sisto tapped the man’s shoulder and left Fitz and Púca to rekindle their relationship. He walked down the hall and descended the stairwell that had led him to his intrusion in the first place. Instead of wrapping around and exiting where the two guarded men were, however, he took the exit at the bottom of the stairs. The door locked behind him and he was hidden behind the row of identical port-o-potties. He looked around to ensure no one had any issues with him popping out from there and to his glee, not a single human was around. He emerged from the darkness, pretending he had just exited one of the horrific sewer tombs and grabbed a half-empty cup of beer someone had left on a table. He didn’t dare take a sip but gave cheers a few times as he navigated to the faces he was searching for in the darkness.