by Gabi Moore
Chapter 10 - Mickey
Every man needs his vices. Not big ones, of course, just little ones that make it easier to avoid the big ones in the long run. For some men, it’s having a mistress. Playing cards, I don’t know. For me?
Espresso.
There’s nothing in this fucked up world that a proper shot of espresso won’t fix, and I swear it on my mother’s grave. Maybe coffee’s bad for you, maybe not, I don’t care, but fuck if it doesn’t make life go down just a little more smoothly.
I looked around at the other customers in the café, took a sip of my espresso, and crossed over my other leg. The trouble with this country is people don’t stop to enjoy the little things. They just blow in, buy their XL bucket of peppermint sugar frappe double whatever-the-fuck and then leave, guzzling it while they’re still on their phones. In Italy, people actually give a fuck. They sit down. They drink the fucking coffee. One thing at a time. Civilized.
My phone rang. I scowled down at the hidden number and answered, fingers still on the warm cup.
“Mickey.”
I listened, my eyes scanning the shop’s customers. I looked at the overcooked croissants. The kids in buggies. It was a voice I recognized but did not want to hear from right now.
“You’re sure?” I said in reply, keeping my voice down.
“I’m positive. I saw them both leaving the building. She went back inside though,” said the voice into my ear. I sighed loudly.
“And the two that went in with him?”
“No sign of ‘em.”
We both knew what that meant.
“Yeah, OK,” I said, and hung up.
My eyes were still scanning over the customers. They were just people oblivious to all the shit that goes on every day right under their noses. I’d need another espresso.
In my hometown in Sicily, shit doesn’t go down like this. When Angelo was alive, God rest his soul, I told him again and again, you need to drop that bitch. You can’t have a woman knowing what she knows… not a woman like her, at least. Back home, we would never let some broad get tangled up this bad, and I told his punk ass son that it was a dumb idea to send the hitman – the very same guy she’s been screwing if the rumors are to be believed – to do the job. Of course he chickened out. That’s why you can’t have woman in the fucking mix. They make competent men make mistakes.
I told Joey that he should send someone else, and just take care of that bitch once and for all. But I knew he’d do just exactly what he wanted anyway. So, I sent one of my special associates over to watch and, lo and behold, just like I said, buddy goes over there and backs out of putting a bullet in her. No problem. Where assclowns lose the plot, old Mickey will be right behind them, cashing in on their dumbfuck mistakes. I was going to relish telling Little Joey that his stupid plan didn’t work. But I wouldn’t tell him until I knew I could follow up with proof that I went ahead and did the job myself. Now that would be sweet.
I calmly took another sip.
I took my phone and dialed another number.
“It’s just like I said. Go find her. And kill her,” I said matter-of-factly.
“And what about the guy?” came the reply.
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of him myself,” I said. I hung up.
I checked my watch. He’d be here any minute now. I had to admit, I was curious about the man that had managed to melt that ice queen’s heart. From what I knew, he was just a nobody, a hired hitman who didn’t have too much going on upstairs but who had been pretty loyal. Until now that is.
Then I saw him.
He walked in, looked around, and I waved him over. He came to sit opposite me, cracked his neck and then laced his fingers together on the table in front of us. I made sure to take a long, luxurious sip to finish my espresso, placed it gently back down on the saucer and took a hard look at him. He sure didn’t look like a schemer.
“Mickey?” he asked, without making eye contact.
I nodded.
“You want some coffee? The espresso here’s the best in town.”
He shot me a tense look. Always the same with these kids, just like I said. Just because you’re in a… shall we say alternative line of work, doesn’t mean you can just throw your manners out the window. Why not have a fucking espresso? What’s so wrong with that?
“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” he said and cast shifty eyes all around the café.
I shrugged.
“You get it done?” I said.
His shifty eyes landed on me.
“Yeah.”
Fucking liar. I said nothing. There was something kind of entertaining in watching him come out with it all on his own.
“But I lost the other two.”
I raised my eyebrows, pretending this was the first time I’d heard this information. I turned the espresso cup around the grooves on the saucer, making the china grind and grate.
“Well, ain’t that a shame. Care to explain what the fuck happened?”
He nervously adjusted his weight in the seat, looking a little flustered. Nobody else would be able to spot it, maybe, but I could see it clear as day. It wasn’t reasonable to expect the hired muscle to have some fucking brains, I guess.
“Mickey, fuck, I don’t know what to say. You know who she is. Or was. You know what she’s capable of. She knows how to handle herself.”
I could see why someone like her went for someone like him. While Evie’s reputation as a spitfire was certainly not in question, I knew he was lying about this too. It made sense. The fool was in love with her, and did all the dirty work so she wouldn’t even have to kill them. I felt a little bad for the guy, actually.
“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me. She’s something special isn’t she?” I said, casting him a knowing smile.
He shot his gaze up to me.
“A real Femme Fatale, right?” I said in a mocking voice. He narrowed his eyes.
“Well, honestly, I admire that you pulled it off, Jacky boy, she’s a viper. A lesser man might have gotten, well, you know, distracted…” I said and smirked at him. His expression hardened. He knew I was fucking with him, but he wasn’t sure what that meant yet. No problem. He soon would.
“You know what they say about her is true right? The rumors?”
“What rumors?” he said through clenched teeth.
I laughed cynically.
“You been living under a rock buddy? There’s not a guy in upper management who hasn’t screwed her, pal. Or should I say, she screwed them. Takes what she wants, doesn’t she? I like when women are feisty like that. But shit. She’s cold. She had half the men working above her wrapped round her little finger…”
“Shut up!” he hissed at me. I smiled.
“Forget it,” I said and stood to leave. I had been planning to get another cup, to maybe read the paper, watch the world go by and have a little think about life. But giving this fucker what he deserved as soon as possible was too tempting. I held out my hand, shook his and nodded.
“No hard feelings, pal.”
I could see the muscles in his jaw twitching. He turned to leave. I got my coat, took my time putting it on and then walked out after him, thrusting both hands into my pockets. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and some kids were playing with chalk on the sidewalk outside the café.
I was feeling pretty good.
And I was going to enjoy destroying him.
Chapter 11 - Jack
I left the coffee shop in a daze. Some kids were playing outside the café, a handful of them, none older than five or six. Man, did it mess me up to see them there. They were like an omen. Like a warning.
What if she was telling the truth? What if she really was pregnant and I really was the father? I’d spent my time on the hard side of life. I’d made money working for the more powerful, taking out the less powerful. How in god’s name could I possibly be a father?
Part of me was repulsed. I didn’t want to be a part of that story. She was a liar and a manipul
ator, she had clearly used me, and she had fully planned to never tell me about her pregnancy anyway. Mickey was right, of course. She was a fucking viper. Maybe I had made a big mistake sparing her life, letting her free to do god knows what. I had wanted less involvement with this fucked up organization, not more…
And yet. A small part of me was …excited. Now that I was alone, walking the streets with my thoughts, it felt safe to feel almost happy. She was sorry. She hadn’t meant it. She had kept the baby, for fuck’s sake. She said she had seen something in me, that night in the warehouse. It wasn’t just me getting high and seeing what wasn’t there …maybe something special actually had happened.
I walked quickly. It was hot outside and I felt exposed. Mickey had bought the lie for now but there was no way around it: I’d be screwed if they found out she was still alive. And really, it was a matter of when they found out rather than if. I needed time to think. I had to make my own escape plan, and quickly.
I passed by a narrow alleyway and instantly felt a blunt, heavy object collide with my lower back. I cried out. I spun around just in time for a fist to smash into my face and drag me off. I kicked and thrashed, trying to claw at the hands that had gone to my throat, but in a second I was pulled into the alleyway and pinned hard against the brick wall of the building. It was Mickey.
“What the…” I tried to wriggle free but he had me pinned, his meaty hand jabbing sharply into my throat.
“How stupid do you think I am, huh?” he growled. His face was pressed up so close to mine I could smell stale coffee and cigarettes on his breath. I twisted my head to the side and tried to free my left hand to defend myself, but the guy was massive. I was getting really sick of this shit.
“Go on, tell me again how you followed orders and how you killed her. It’s hilarious. You’re even worse at lying than you are at carrying out your fucking duties,” he said and leaned into me.
Pain radiated out from the tender spot he was pressing into. I could have easily taken him, but not like this, not when he was threatening to choke me out in a second.
“Those were two of my best men, you think I’m gonna just let you waltz away, just like that?” he said. It felt as though my blood, unable to rush into my head, was pooling painfully at my feet instead. I had to break free.
“Fuck you,” I said and spat in his face.
The reaction was swift. His other hand came violently down onto my side ribs and pummeled out the last of the air I had in my lungs with a hard, vicious blow. I bit down and winced, unable to defend myself. I felt dizzy. He was cutting of my air supply. But I instantly jumped to attention when I felt the sharp, cold end of a knife poking into the place I had just been hit. I was still bruised from the beating I’d taken at the funeral.
He lowered all his weight further onto my poor neck and smiled darkly at me. Her face flashed into my mind.
“She’s not a threat. She just wants to live her life, she’s gone,” I spluttered, struggling to breathe.
“Oh, well, isn’t that fucking sweet?” he said and dug the knife tip in a little further.
“Don’t hurt her.” I was surprised to hear myself begging for her like that, but it was true. Whatever had happened, Evie had suffered enough.
He eased up a little with the knife.
“Buddy, it’s too late for that anyway. My guys are already on their way to her now, to finish what you couldn’t…”
I twisted and moaned. I couldn’t let it end like this. Not when she was in danger and needed me.
“She’ll run. She’s already gone. You won’t catch her,” I hissed.
“Won’t we? How do you think we found out where she was the first time, you idiot? Here’s a clue – maybe being pregnant has taken that crazy Evie edge off her, huh?”
I snapped to attention.
“What did you say?”
“It’s not a secret pal. She was so desperate, running around trying to figure out whom the father of her child was, and, what can I say, she got sloppy. We got a hold of her medical records and tracked her down. Boom.”
I felt like the world in front of me was getting dimmer and dimmer, folding into a small circle before my eyes like the end of an old cartoon.
“She really is pregnant?”
“Oh yes she is …congratulations, by the way. Too bad it’s a short-lived thing, huh? C’est la vie, pal,” he said and laughed to himself.
She was pregnant.
I was the father.
“She was hard to track, make no mistake. That woman was one of my earliest teachers, so I knew every trick to look for. We’ll get her again in the end though.”
My mind went into hyper drive. All at once, as though I was watching sixteen movies at a time, all layered on top of one another and played on fast forward, I saw her. Evie. In all her glory. Those painted red-pink lips. Those narrow hips and even narrower eyes. The way she had stared into my soul when we were alone with one another, our bodies knotted together, fucking like it was the end of the world and we were last two people alive in it…
This was it.
The life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing that people always talk about. And it was …beautiful. I was the father of Evie’s child – and what else did we do that night but create something brilliant and strange and new? – and no way in fucking hell was I going to leave her now. I couldn’t die. There was just no way. I was mad as hell at her. But I wasn’t going to let her die either.
Growling like something had possessed me, I dug deep and pulled on every last drop of oxygen, every last dribble of energy I had left and sent it blasting through my fatigued muscles. I exploded against my capture and burst my body against his, jerking my legs up to knee his stomach and then, with immense effort, hoisting myself up on his neck, yanking down and bringing his face into kneecap. The force sent him staggering backwards, arms flailing.
He grimaced at me, wielded the knife at me again, giving me only a split second to duck and tackle him around his ample mid-section. Knowing his dagger would soon have clear access to stab down at me from above, I dropped all my weight down low, tucked myself between his tree stump thighs and pulled him off balance, sending him stumbling forward – and dropping the knife.
Quick as lightning I reached for it. When I spun around and turned to face him again, he was readying himself for another attack. I gathered myself to my feet but only managed to make it to my knees before he lurched at me again. As though it had a mind of its own, the knife in my hand found its way to his barrel chest.
He froze. We both watched the other to see how bad the damage was. Panting, he looked down. I didn’t have to look to know that it was a solid, deep stab. I could feel the wetness pouring out of him as I held the blade there, the hilt right up against the cotton of his shirt. His grasp on me softened. I let him go, and he slumped down to the ground, still looking up at me. He had the look of a man who’s been cut off in conversation. The look of a man confused that the story didn’t end how he had planned it to.
I backed away from him and looked over my shoulder. I leaned forward, wiped the blade clean using his own shirt, and he watched me with fading interest. I hated this part. Dead was easy. Alive was easy. It was this messy shit in the middle that most people found really upsetting. He lifted a weak head at me, a trickle of blood snaking out the corner of his mouth.
I don’t know why I stood there. I don’t know what I was waiting for. For him to tell me that it was OK? That he understood why I had to do what I did? As his eyes watched me I could feel the heat leaving him, could feel him flickering out like pixels dying on a screen. I turned on my heel and walked briskly away.
The day was as bright as it was a moment ago. And still as warm. But now there was a bite to the air somehow. She hadn’t lied after all. I walked as quickly as I could without arousing any suspicion, put my neck down and headed back to my apartment. I did a few loops of my block and then, satisfied that I hadn’t been seen and wasn’t being followed, went inside and locked the d
oor behind me, adrenaline still rattling all through me.
I didn’t know how long I had before they came after me. But I couldn’t let them find me again. I had to keep running. I had to make this right.
I had to get to her… before they did.
Chapter 12 - Evelyn
I looked down at the dragon on my sleeve. I knew that it wasn’t really a three dimensional, living, breathing dragon, but then again, I could find no reason to resist the thought that in some ways, it might be, and I wanted it to be, and so did it even matter? I stroked my finger up and down the embroidered ribs of its spine.
Perhaps being a picture was just a different way of being a real flesh and blood creature anyway? And from the dragon’s perspective, I could be written off because of my lack of stitching and my dull colors…
For god’s sake, Evie, what are you even thinking, just pull yourself together.
I sat upright, blinked hard and looked ruefully at the faint brown powder remnants on the night stand beside me. The bed underneath me felt heavy, its satiny bedspread the most upsetting shade of pink and the motel room lights overhead casting a mustard glow over everything.
It’s not that I was addicted. I had thought about taking more Pink Kisses for a while now. Because I had a death wish? Because I missed him? I don’t know. In any case our in-house chemists had stressed over and over again – this stuff was nothing like heroin; I didn’t have to worry about addiction.
Not really.
“But if you find something that feels better than real life, would you need to be addicted to keep coming back to it?” he had said, and laughed a big lecherous laugh. I had ignored him at the time, but now I understood what he meant perfectly. It’s not that I was remotely addicted. I wasn’t obsessed with it. It was that I was seriously failing to find any obsession for my “real life” anymore.
I was only three months into my pregnancy, and I hated to admit to myself that I was getting tired. I woke up ravenous, ate like a wolf and needed a nap by 4pm every day. It was probably nothing that anyone would have noticed, but I sure could feel it. My reaction times were slowed, just a little. My head wasn’t as crystal clear anymore. My muscles felt less tight. I felt weakened. Softened.
