I shrugged. “Maybe Jen knocked you against something. You are a bit awkward to carry.”
“You carried me?” he asked cunningly.
“No,” I said a little too quickly.
“I cannot believe you let me fall off the bed,” he scoffed, pretending to be more upset about it than he was. He’d gotten worse injuries during sex.
“I’ll kiss it better as soon as we stop,” I promised.
Frank was fast asleep when we crossed state lines, his head tilted toward the window, Jennifer’s earrings shimmering in the moonlight between his fingers. I brought my hand to my lips and gently placed it on his shoulder, wondering whether this was how he felt after a job where I played bait; invincible. It wasn’t about money. I’d killed someone who intended to harm the person I loved. I’d protected him.
Part Three: Fate
The cover of darkness would’ve been welcome. Even the smallest shadow, a storm cloud passing momentarily over the bright midmorning sun, would set the scene for what I was planning to do. Deception wasn’t made for daylight.
I stood close to the door, my eye to the peephole, my hand on the knob. Ready.
The windshield of Frank’s car caught the sunlight and momentarily blinded me as he backed out, as if punishing me for not being in bed where I should’ve been, where he’d left me, pretending to sleep. He missed the pothole I always seemed to hit, and I found myself counting, giving him time to leave the parking lot, time to turn the corner so he wouldn’t see me go.
It had started as a thought, a spark in my mind that had quickly developed into an obsession. I couldn’t think of anything else. But doing something this extreme behind his back was a challenge. We were inseparable, together every waking moment, and on the rare occasion when he wasn’t at my side, he was watching me, following me not out of distrust, but out of love.
As I snuck from our hotel, on my way to meet a man I’d barely met, to do something I never imagined I’d do, I knew Frank would be angry. He hated surprises.
I had liked the look of the man the moment I saw him; strong build with kind eyes, and hair that would’ve been as dark as Frank’s when he was a younger man. He’d struck me as honest, but not so honest that he wouldn’t accept two grand in cash under the ketchup smeared Formica table at McDonalds.
This was the closest I’d ever gotten to an illicit deal, and every bit of the setup screamed amateur. It didn’t matter. He’d never done this either.
One of the first things Frank taught me was that cash attracts suspicion. But that didn’t make it an unwelcome source of payment. After all, the government couldn’t tax what they couldn’t prove.
Frank never carried less than a couple grand, folded into the embrace of a sterling silver money clip. It was good for bribery if needed, or dropping in a poor box when he was feeling a particular sense of guilt. But I was uncomfortable carrying any more than a couple twenties. I always feared I’d lose it. Not that it couldn’t be easily replaced.
“You have it?” I asked, displaying confidence I didn’t feel. I was nervous as hell sitting across from him, two thousand dollars in my pocket, a huge fiberglass Hamburglar at my side. The location was the man’s idea. It was walking distance from his work, and he’d taken his lunch break early to accommodate me.
“Of course,” he said with a smile. My youth had surprised him. So had my request.
He reached over the table and handed me the small box, careful to keep it hidden between our palms from the prying eyes of suburbanites with their junk-food loving families. I brought it down to my lap to open it, the black velvet soft as rose petals against my fingers.
The ring had been beautiful in the man’s shop, white gold gleaming from under crystal clear glass, Frank’s name written all over it. But having it in my hands, in that box, made it magnificent.
“This is perfect,” I sighed, emotionally overcome in front of a stranger, the smell of French fries replacing whatever breakfast substance had just stopped being served. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said, subtly reminding me of our deal. I slipped him the cash, which he didn’t count. He had absolute trust in me. People usually did.
“If you would like it to be engraved, you know where to find me,” he added.
That wasn’t going to happen. At least not in this town. As it was, I should’ve gone black market, but I didn’t want Frank to wear a stolen ring. It was too important. I nodded anyway.
“Are you hungry?” he asked suddenly, as if I was a poor waif in need of someone to buy me lunch, and not a soon-to-be engaged young man wearing designer clothes with the tags cut out.
I laughed. I’d known he was a dad the second I saw him. He’d scolded me for wanting to get married so young before offering a compromise so I could pay in cash without being caught on a security camera. But he hadn’t even blinked when I bought a man’s ring. That made me want to invite him to the wedding.
We were in a town that had voted red for the last fifty years, where a person of color was someone with a good tan or the guy mowing the lawn, and the general population was as in denial about homosexuality as they were about poverty. This man was obviously the exception to the rule, overcharging his customers not only because they could afford it, but because they deserved it. I’d refused the discount he offered me.
“No thanks. I need to watch my weight if I ever want to fit in my dress,” I said, and stood up.
He shrugged, half-standing to shake my hand and then sitting back down. This was his lunch break, but I had a feeling he’d just sit there without eating and watch the rest of the diners until he had to go back to work. I wondered whether he’d lost his children. The way he looked at them, screeching while they fought over a miniature stuffed animal that would forever smell like chicken nuggets. It spoke of heartbreak. It probably would’ve made his day to feed me, but I had to get home.
I took my time walking back to the hotel, feeling secure with my hands in my pockets, holding the box and practicing what I’d say under my breath. It didn’t feel so much like I was doing something I shouldn’t be now that I wasn’t carrying that much cash, but when I saw Frank’s car in the parking lot, I broke into a cold sweat.
He was sitting on his hood with a cigarette in his mouth, watching me approach with his eyebrows up, raised over the top of his sunglasses. I felt so guilty I may as well have just been out sucking another man’s cock. He knew something was up. He had to. Why else would he have that expression on his face?
“I went out to breakfast,” I said awkwardly, stopping a few feet from his car. His meetings with Charlie usually lasted much longer than this. I wasn’t expecting to have to face him so soon after I’d made my purchase. Then I realized that he didn’t look accusing. He looked sick. “What’s wrong?”
Frank nodded toward the door. I hoped he hadn’t been waiting for me very long. He’d hold a grudge for weeks. We went inside without speaking. He handed me the envelope and slumped onto the bed, lying back and staring up at the ceiling.
I was afraid to look. My eighteenth birthday was right around the corner, and I really didn’t want to lose our bet. Or my life. “Is it bad?”
He sighed. If it was really bad, he would’ve been holding me. Or getting me out of town as fast as he could drive. But his silence was disconcerting.
I sat by his feet and dumped the contents onto the bed. Cash. More than usual. Familiar photo of a middle-aged male client. Photos. I picked up the second one, a candid shot of a young brunette woman, smiling with her hair whipping around her face from a breeze frozen in time. The candid photographs were always taken by Charlie, after he’d tracked down the victim for his grateful client. Frank wasn’t sure how much he charged for the service, but he certainly never saw a dime of it. “A double?”
He lit another cigarette. I set them side by side. The man was at least twenty years her senior, tan with light hair and a too-white smile, a Ken doll for baby boomers. The woman had the familiar expression of someone in lov
e with someone else’s husband. Both photos had open water in the background, his stretched on forever behind him, sparkling and still, hers with a wooden dock leading to a huge white yacht, Diane written in gold lettering on the side.
I smiled, the faith in my survival restored as I began to comprehend Frank’s misery. He wouldn’t even follow me to the beach, and I was his favorite quarry. These people looked like they spent most of their time there. For as much as Frank was going to get to see, they may as well have been as reclusive as the late Mr. Bianchi. “Who’s Diane?”
“The mark’s wife. Our client.”
I leafed through the stacks of cash. New bills. A lot of them. Infidelity certainly was good for business. “How?”
“Murder-suicide,” he pouted. Then he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, curling up in the universal shouldn’t-have-gotten-out-of-bed-today pose. “On the yacht.”
I lay behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing my knees against his. There was no discussion as to who was the bottom in our relationship, and even if he was ever open to it, I wouldn’t be. I didn’t see the point of having a boyfriend if I had to do all the work. I was whole when he made love to me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But it felt special to be behind him, holding him in a way I knew no one ever had, and having him trust me enough to do so.
“Am I right in assuming that Charlie’s unaware of your water issue?”
He didn’t bother answering. Of course Charlie didn’t know. Frank didn’t even like the fact that I knew.
“Teach me how to swim.”
With as many times as I’d offered, tried to tempt him toward the swimming pool with sexual promises of a newfound love for all things aquatic, Frank had always turned me down. I could barely get him in the tub with me without sweet talking him for hours, spending a near fortune on bubble bath so he wouldn’t have to see the water. If he thought I’d give in so easily now, he was mistaken.
“Tell me a story, Frank,” I said. Over a year together, and I still had no idea what his phobia had stemmed from. It was the one thing that still really haunted him, and he refused to tell me about it.
“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”
“I need to know what I’m up against.”
He grumbled, curling up tighter to move away from me. “I nearly drowned when I was little.”
“Congratulations, sir, you’ve just earned treading water for beginners,” I said sarcastically. “If you’re good, I might give in and teach you how to float.”
Frank said something in French that I was glad I didn’t understand.
I moved close to him again, entwining my fingers in his and resting my head between his shoulder blades. He smelled like Charlie’s cigarettes. Hanging out with his handler was the only time he seemed to pick up the scent, as if even smoke wanted nothing to do with the old man, and would cling to any passerby in an attempt to escape.
“Okay, I’ll tell you a story,” he said, rolling over and kissing my forehead. He was up to something. I’d have to keep my wits about me. Frank was a wily fucker when he wanted to get out of story time.
“I was almost sixteen, and Charlie wanted to give me a birthday present. He asked my father for money so he could take me to Paris and show me a nice time. He said he’d pull out all the stops, we’d fly to Paris and he’d rent a car to take me all around France.
“I’d never been so excited. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of England. Only Charlie’s description of our trip wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. It wasn’t even his money, and he was prudent with it. Instead of taking a cab to the airport, we hitchhiked halfway across England to fucking Dover, because it was cheaper to take a ferry across the channel. He tried to rationalize this, saying that when my mother emigrated, she would’ve taken this route. But I knew it was the money. It’s always about money with Charlie.
“Do you remember when we had to move to the second floor of our hotel because it rained so hard the owners were afraid our room would flood?”
I nodded. The look on his face when the hotel manager told us was absolute horror. I’d thought he might faint. He didn’t sleep the rest of the time we were in that godforsaken town, and we’d been renting rooms on the upper floors ever since, rain or shine.
“That’s how much it was raining in Dover. It always fucking rained in England. I didn’t know what the sun looked like until I left that bloody country. But this was the worst I’d ever seen.
“Charlie had to drag me aboard the ferry. I didn’t even want to see France anymore. I would’ve stayed in England the rest of my life if it meant not having to get on that boat. I thought we were going to die.”
How could he put him through that just to save a couple bucks? “And he still doesn’t know that you don’t like water?” I asked incredulously. I’d known the man was thick, but this was ridiculous.
Frank shrugged. “When we finally docked, I was the first to get off. I would’ve pushed down my own mother to get to land.
“It wasn’t raining on that side of the channel. It had been, the ground was wet, but not anymore. And then I looked up, the first time I’d ever seen the sky over France, and it was...breathtaking. The sky was clearing, still gray but not the corpse color of England, with just enough blue to remind you how good things could be. I was home. And that perfect, welcoming sky, was the exact color of your eyes.”
The tears were immediate. I would’ve blurted out my proposal right then and there, but he’d rendered me speechless.
He kissed me, first my eyes and then my lips.
“That’s really sweet,” I sniffled. “But you know it wasn’t the story I was looking for.”
Frank swore.
I smacked him hard and sat up with my back to him. “Asshole!”
He pulled me back down, holding me close. “I wasn’t making it up, Vincent. Every word was true. I just hoped it would be a sufficient distraction.”
“I tell you everything,” I pouted.
“Because you couldn’t keep a secret if you wanted to.”
“That’s what you think,” I said, turning away from him. Just for that, I’d keep the proposal to myself until I felt like he’d been deceived long enough.
“V,” he said seductively, starting to caress my hair. “Angel.”
I sucked on my cheeks so I wouldn’t smile while he put his hand in my pants. It wasn’t fair. When he wanted something from me he could hold out for days, resuming his status as a prick tease like flipping a switch. I couldn’t last an hour.
“What is that?” he asked. I gasped when I realized that he’d noticed the jewelry box in my pocket, and I slid off the bed, curling around my prize on the carpet and not letting go.
“Nothing,” I said, holding firm in my defensive position as he tried tipping me over with his foot.
“What is that?” he asked again, kneeling by the bed and pawing at me as his curiosity increased.
I knew he’d pick me up in a second, lifting me effortlessly off the floor and not letting go until he got what he wanted. I had no choice. I aimed for the face, jumping to my feet the second my hand hit flesh, and ran out the front door.
Frank was right on my heels, but he wouldn’t attack in public. I backed away, the ring safely in my pocket once more. His lip was bleeding. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Stay,” I warned, continuing my retreat in the direction of the pool. I could get another velvet box if need be. The ring would be fine underwater, no matter how long I had to stay there.
He smiled and stopped. “Come here, child. I won’t hurt you.”
“But I’m frightened, monsieur,” I said innocently.
Frank had taught me a few choice words of French, due somewhat to begging on my part, but mostly because it got him hot. The sex would be good tonight. If I lived that long.
He closed his eyes and groaned. I was going to win this round. I usually did when I spoke French to him. “Give me your keys. I wanna go for a drive,” I s
aid, moving a little closer and holding out my hand.
“You’re going to hide it in the car,” he said knowingly. “I will find it.”
I nodded. It was best not to challenge him, but we both knew he’d never find it in the car, and that meant he’d do everything in his power to make sure I didn’t hide it there.
“Come back inside.”
“I love you, Frank,” I said.
Before I could think of my next move, his cell phone rang. I rushed him, getting my hands on his keys before he’d knocked me down to the pavement.
“Bad timing,” he said to whoever was on the phone, pressing his foot into my chest to keep me from fleeing as he listened. His face fell. “What?”
He stepped off of me. I got to my feet, but didn’t run.
“When did that happen?” Pause. “I’m sorry, Charlie. Do you want me to come? Of course I can lend you money.”
I put his keys back in his pocket. He smoothed his hand over my hair and threateningly mouthed I’ll get you, then headed toward the parking lot. “Yes, I’m on my way.”
Frank hung up the phone as he got in his car. I ran to his side for a quick debriefing, keeping my hands in my pockets in case he wanted to take advantage of the situation. “Charlie’s sister died.”
“Shit. I didn’t know he had a sister.”
“He doesn’t. Now.”
“Are you going to the funeral?”
He shook his head. “I’m surprised he’s even going. They weren’t close. But I suppose he thinks there might be something in it for him.”
“Did you know her?”
“I met her once. The whole family. Charlie told them I was his son. They told him to get off their property.”
That wasn’t surprising. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed his face. “Yes. It’s just strange. She fell down the stairs. Broke her neck.”
I raised my eyebrows. Why was that strange? People fell down the stairs all the time. That’s why it was such a good excuse for victims of domestic violence. “Do you think it was a job?”
“I’ll get more information from Charlie,” he said. I could tell from his expression that the thought had done more than cross his mind. “Stay in the room until I get back, okay?”
Chance Assassin: A Story of Love, Luck, and Murder Page 26
