by Alex Hyland
‘Yeah,’ said Jon. ‘They’re holding me in this alley behind the shop. And these guys are high as clouds, faces sweating. This police unit drives past, then pulls to a stop. These guys just start shooting at the police...it was insane. Next thing I know, these two idiots have dragged me into an office building down the alley...police units everywhere. These guys start demanding passage to the border, where they say they’re going to release me. Seventeen hours they had me tied up in this building.’
‘Jesus,’ said Suki.
Danielle glanced at him. ‘You still don’t know who they were working for?’
‘Best guess, Tico Hernandez,’ he replied. ‘But it could have been any of them.’
‘So what happened?’ asked Suki.
‘A friend of mine I was working with down there,’ said Jon. ‘He got me out.’
‘He pulled some strings?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Jon. ‘He sneaked into the building and shot them both dead.’
Silence at the table.
Danielle shook her head to herself. ‘If he hadn’t been there, Jon...’
‘He killed them?’ said Suki. ‘Who was he?’
I eyed Jon curiously. He’d never told me who this friend of his was. I’d only ever heard him refer to him once as ‘T’.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Jon.
He was still being cagey about it, but fair enough – I wasn’t going to push it. I raised a glass of Scotch. ‘Well, here’s to a good friend.’
Jon smiled.
‘If something like that happened to me,’ said Suki. ‘I’m not sure I’d have the nerve to keep going.’
‘It happens,’ said Jon.
‘But it doesn’t though, does it?’ said Danielle. ‘Not to most people.’
Jon shot her a look. ‘Well, I can’t stop.’
As Danielle looked away from him, Jon’s manner softened. He thought to himself a moment, then took hold of her hand.
‘You know, my parents ran the same little bookstore all their lives,’ he said. ‘Books about the environment, education. It was never going to make them any money, but they believed in what they were doing...the message. No matter what hardship fell their way, they never changed course. They stood for something, you know? I can’t ignore that. I won’t.’
Danielle nodded, but she stayed quiet. We all did. But then Jon glanced at me, and it felt like there it was – the question in the air. How my parents could have inspired him to take such a noble path, but not me – the drunken ‘used car’ dealer.
It was time to change the subject. I took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s do something.’
‘Like what?’ said Jon.
‘I don’t know, let’s go out. They’re showing a Lord of the Rings marathon in town if anyone’s interested.’
‘Yeah, I think I’d rather hang out with Tico Hernandez,’ said Jon.
He leaned back in his chair, then smiled at me.
‘You know what I’m in the mood for?’ he said. ‘A little magic.’
Changing the subject suddenly didn’t feel like it had been such a good idea.
He winked at me. ‘Come on, astound us.’
Suki threw me a curious look.
Jon nodded at her. ‘He was a little wizard when he was a kid, he didn’t tell you? The Amazing Michael Violet.’
‘A long time ago,’ I said.
‘But you were good,’ said Jon. ‘Really good. He used to perform for us and everything.’
‘Really?’ said Danielle. ‘Show us something.’
‘I haven’t done it in years.’
‘Card tricks and mind-reading,’ said Jon. He nodded thoughtfully to himself a moment. ‘But there was this one trick that I could never figure out.’
He reached into his pocket and produced a dime.
‘Show them the trick with the coin,’ he said.
He slid the dime across the table toward me.
I stared uncomfortably at it. I didn’t do magic any more, certainly never in front of Jon. It would have felt like I was sailing too close to the wind.
‘Come on,’ he said.
‘I’m drunk,’ I replied.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘It’s the greatest trick.’
It was. Bare hand, sleeves rolled up high. You held a coin between the tips of your fore and middle fingers. You then very slowly curled your fingers into a fist – but real slow – no movement enough to flick the coin anywhere. At the same measured pace you then uncurled your fingers wide like a starfish. And the coin was gone. It was an illusion created by a Serbian magician named Branco Dugme. In his notes on the trick, he warned people how hard it was to master – that it had taken him over a year to get it right. It took me three weeks.
‘Please,’ said Danielle. ‘I’d like to see it.’
I shook my head.
Jon smiled. ‘Not The Amazing Michael Violet any more, huh? Dad’s little Merlin.’
The vaguest hint of provocation in his tone. It was strange. I didn’t know if I was just being paranoid or not, but I didn’t like it.
I glanced back at the coin. Maybe he should see it.
I picked up the dime, then rolled my shirt sleeve up to my elbow. I held the coin between my fingertips, and slowly turned it around so everyone could see both sides of my hand. As I gradually made a fist, Jon kept his eyes fixed on me. I held the coin lightly against my palm.
The coin then clattered onto the table as I let it slip from my fingers. Danielle and Suki laughed.
I stared at the coin, and shrugged. ‘The magic’s gone, what can I tell you.’
Jon nodded. As he reached for his wine glass, his cell phone rang.
Danielle threw him a look. ‘We said no phones this weekend.’
Jon glanced at the caller ID. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to take this.’
He left the table, then headed upstairs to take the call.
We waited. We drank a little Scotch. Even started watching a movie. But it was nearly an hour before Jon came back down. His whole demeanor had changed when he did. He looked empty.
‘Everything OK?’ I asked.
He didn’t reply – didn’t even look at me. He just walked over to Danielle and kissed her.
‘I’m going to bed,’ he said to her.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘I’m just tired. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘You want a hit of this Scotch before you go?’ I said.
But he just turned and headed back upstairs. It was cold, but Jon got like that sometimes – whenever any shit happened, he was always the first to know about it. It was best just to leave him to it. The moment he was gone, Suki glanced at me.
‘He’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘It’s just work.’
‘I’d better go up,’ said Danielle. ‘Make sure he’s OK.’
As she followed Jon up, I took a mouthful of Scotch. And I stared uneasily at the coin on the table.
I didn’t sleep well that night. I was woken by a bad dream – the same one that I’d had since I was a kid. Fevered images of a knight riding into battle, sword in hand. Grey, crow-swept skies above him. As he rides, he becomes engulfed by flames. He topples from his horse, disintegrating as he hits the ground. Then quiet. Soft flakes of ash skittering in the wind. The crows circling above.
I felt sick when I woke. I watched Suki breathing for a moment, then got out of bed. I headed over to the window, and tried to clear my head.
I gazed out at Cava’s Hill. As I did, I caught sight of a tiny orange glow down by the brook. It was Jon. He was sitting alone on the bank, smoking a cigarette. He hadn’t smoked in years.
I pulled on some clothes and headed downstairs. I opened the kitchen door, crossed the road and joined him by the brook.
‘You’re smoking again?’ I said.
He didn’t reply.
I sat down next to him on the bank. ‘So are yo
u going to tell me what happened?’
He stayed silent.
‘Come on, I’m worried,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘You’re worried!’
‘I am.’
He gazed at his cigarette.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
He eyed me for a moment, then smiled acerbically.
‘You know I’ve never seen your office,’ he said.
‘My office?’
‘I’ve never been there.’
‘You can visit any time you like. It’s not exactly spectacular.’
I kept a small office on Columbus Avenue, but it was just for show in case the tax man ever needed to see where my business was based. I hadn’t been there for months – there was nothing in it apart from a desk and chair.
‘I’d like to see it,’ he said.
‘Fine. Drop by this week.’
‘Let’s go now,’ he said.
‘Now?’ I said. I eyed him carefully. ‘What’s going on?’
He blew a cloud of smoke into the night air, then nodded to himself.
‘Darren Tavener called me,’ he said.
‘Tonight? That was the call?’ I was surprised – Darren was just a friend of ours from the old neighborhood.
‘He saw the interview and wanted to wish me congratulations,’ said Jon.
‘Yeah?’
‘He lives in San Diego now. About to set up his own practice. He doesn’t have many clients yet, but…it’s funny, he told me how well you were doing though.’
‘Darren? I haven’t spoken to him in years.’
‘I know,’ said Jon. ‘He was driving through Pac Heights three weeks ago. He saw you come out of some fancy house there. He was going to stop, but you jumped into a Bentley and sped off before he got a chance to say hi.’
I stayed quiet.
‘You know, I told him you didn’t live in Pac Heights,’ said Jon. ‘That you didn’t drive a Bentley. That it probably belonged to some client of yours, and you were selling it for them.’
‘That’s right,’ I said.
‘Did you get a good price for it?’
‘What is this, Jon?’
He eyed me carefully for a moment, then shook his head.
‘I was always so proud that you turned yourself around, Michael, you know that? That you made something of yourself. And I always felt so terrible whenever I doubted you, because I knew you’d never lie to me, would you?’
My heartbeat faded.
‘I spoke to another friend of mine tonight,’ he said. ‘Did you know that a Bentley Continental was reported stolen from a house in Pac Heights three weeks ago?’
Jesus.
I couldn’t believe this was happening now.
‘Tell me you’re not a thief, Michael,’ he said. ‘I need to hear you say it.’
For a second I considered explaining away the Bentley somehow – but it was pointless. This moment had always been coming. When you smash your toe on a door frame, there’s a half-second gap before the pain hits when you think you might have gotten away with it. From the moment I started stealing, my life felt like that gap – hoping the pain wasn’t to going to hit. But it was here now.
I stared down at my hands. The words just came.
‘I’m not hurting anyone, Jon,’ I said. ‘I take Ferraris from bankers. I’m not stealing the family Subaru, OK.’
The hurt in his eyes as he gazed at me.
‘How long?’ he asked.
I knew this was the part that was really going to hit him.
‘How…long?’ he said, his voice trembling.
‘Seven, eight years.’
He stared at me as if the words were alien to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘All this time?’
‘I didn’t want to burden you with it.’
He grabbed me and raised his fist. He wavered for a moment, but the anger in him was too much – his fist thudded against my cheek. I slipped on the bank and tumbled into the brook.
He glared down at me as I picked myself out of the water.
‘I never felt alone until today, you know that?’ he said.
I nodded. ‘I’ve felt it a lot longer, believe me.’
‘Fuck you!’
‘How could I tell you?’
‘You’re my brother!’
‘Yeah, what part of you would have understood?’ I wiped the blood from my mouth. ‘In your ivory tower. Did you give a shit what was going on with me? Really? Just you and your fucking crusade.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want you coming back here.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
I pulled myself out of the brook.
He eyed me bitterly. ‘If mom and dad...’
‘Don’t!’ I said. ‘Really. You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
I headed for the house, the sickness welling up inside me.
I spend the next few days in a drunken twilight. Hating myself for having lied to him – for being that weak.
When I eventually summoned up the strength to call him, he didn’t answer. I left him messages at home, at work, telling him that I was sorry, but I got nothing back.
I had the key to his apartment, but using it would have made things worse – and so I just waited for him outside. In the end, some neighbor of his told me that he’d gone to New York. He didn’t know how long for.
I managed to get through to Danielle at NBC a few days later. Although she was polite, she refused to give me Jon’s details in New York. She wouldn’t tell me why he was there or for how long – but what worried me more, was that even though she knew something had happened, she didn’t know what. Jon couldn’t even talk to her about it. Jesus.
I didn’t know what to do next. Emails were no good if you had anything serious to write. I doubt the Constitution would have carried so much weight if there’d been a bunch of Viagra ads flashing all over it. But I was out of options – even Harry was keeping quiet.
I spent two days drafting an email. I wrote that I wanted to put things right between us. That I’d stopped stealing. That I wanted to make a fresh start – be the brother that he’d always hoped I’d be.
I sent the email, and I got nothing back from that either. I did my best to stop stealing anyhow – I wanted to be good to my word. I stayed off the street, kept my itching hands in check, and tried to think what else I could do with myself. But the will in me began to fade. Jon’s silence spread across the year, and I found myself slipping back. The old habits. The old thrills.
I figured I’d find the strength, once I’d heard from him.
That night at the house turned out to be the last time that I saw him.
There was a crash of thunder. I clenched my fingers around the necklace. The storm was raging over the house – thunder I could feel in my bones. I checked my watch: four a.m. I’d been asleep for an hour, but felt no better for it. I sat up in the bed and listened to the rain hammering against the windows. I felt uneasy – something wasn’t right. I could hear a noise through the rain. Shuffling.
Someone was in the house.
I spun out of the bed. As I edged over to the window, I stayed light-footed – I didn’t want to give myself away. I carefully glanced outside. A black Audi A5 was parked by the house. It didn’t belong to anyone that I knew. Through the streaming rain I couldn’t see if anyone was waiting inside it. If there was, I’d be an easy target if I climbed out of the window. I grabbed the bronze lamp stand from the bedside table and pulled the wire out from its base. I held the stand firmly in my hand, then crept over to the bedroom door and listened. More shuffling. Doors opening. It was coming from downstairs. No voices. One set of footsteps. Probably one of those fuckers from the nightclub.
I grabbed the bedroom door handle and slowly twisted it – tried to lift the weight of the whole door on the handle to stop the hinges creaking. I pulled the door open a little. Whoever was downstairs was going through the drawers of Jon’s desk in
the study – I recognized the smooth sound of the runners. The study door was about fifteen feet from the bottom of the staircase. I could cover that in a second.
I edged out onto the upper landing. The glow of a flashlight arced across the bottom of the stairwell. I tightened my grip on the lamp stand, and slowly stepped down the stairs. I could hear him opening the filing cabinet by Jon’s desk. If he was going through the files then his back would be to the study door – he wouldn’t know what hit him. I reached the bottom step – the study door to my right, just beyond the corner of the stairwell.
The flashlight then went out. I stopped dead. Listened.
No sound now. I slowly leaned my head around the corner. The study door was shut – a thin line of light illuminating the gap between the door and the floorboards. He was inside. I stepped off the stairs and crept over to the study. I leaned my head close to the door and listened carefully.
I froze as I felt a blade against my throat.
I could hear someone breathing just behind me to my right. A flash of lightning lit the room. The blade pinched against my skin as its owner slowly stepped round in front of me. Another lightning flash and I saw her – the raven-haired girl from the cemetery. The ghost. She held the knife firmly against my neck.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said.
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
She eyed me coldly.
‘You need to leave,’ she said.
She slowly lowered the blade and tucked it away in a leather sheath on her belt.
I kept my eyes on her as she opened the study door and headed back to the filing cabinet. She looked like a rag doll – a no-frills street kid. Old jeans, baggy sweater. Her long black hair hanging limp. No make-up.
She opened another cabinet drawer.
‘What are you looking for?’ I asked.
‘This doesn’t concern you,’ she said.
She started emptying folders and envelopes. Pouring their contents across the desk.
‘OK, who are you then?’ I asked.
‘I was a friend of your brother’s.’
‘Journalist?’
She shook her head.
I glanced at her pale green snorkel jacket lying across the study chair. One of its pockets hung open. Inside was a plastic cigarette lighter – Jon’s flash drive. I stared intently at her. I didn’t know who she was, but Jon wouldn’t have given that to just anybody.
