I look toward the comic book girl. The hair covers her face, but I can see patches of skin lighter than her natural skin tone. Cherry’s not wrong.
“Pathetic mess…whore…” Liam’s seated across from me. He mirrors my stance and stares at me. Then he fades away.
The rules still apply. Like the rest, he’s back and barking the last things I heard him say. Only difference, he looks like I last saw him. Who am I kidding, I’m nuts. A gnat flies near the tip of my nose. I bat it away.
“So I’m at that part where the regret comes at me all at once.” Not sure who I’m talking to, but it doesn’t really matter.
Spider-Girl keeps her focus on the pages.
I look out the window again. See a storefront sign that says Kozy Korner and my heart drops. I lean forward and speak to the driver. “We ain’t got no business being here.”
Spider-Girl looks back up from her comic. Lifts a finger to her lips.
The van stops. The driver speaks Arabic to Spider-Girl. Spider-Girl puts her book down, moves toward me, leans over, and slides open the van’s door. The sunlight makes her flinch. She takes me by the arm and pulls me outside with surprising strength. During the move, I spot her left hand, or rather, her lack of a left hand. Just a smooth, pink stump hidden away in her sleeve. There’s a leather watchband on it. She sees me look and frowns.
The driver hops out of the van and walks to me. “No trouble, okay?”
I shake my head. “No. No trouble.” Look over at the Kozy. The shutters are down—thank God. “Look, I don’t know why we’re here of all places, but if this is business—real business—do me the favor and cap me over at Van Cortland Park. Keep the personal out of this.”
“This is where my employer said to bring you. I have no control over that.” She gives me a glimpse of my .45 at her side. “Keep it civil until we get inside.”
“Inside where?”
The Kozy’s shutter lifts. Behind it is a big galoot—a real gorilla. Broad as a church, but with the sunken eyes and pale skin of an addict. The way he stands, though, he’s taken a hit before. He’s wearing an Ed Hardy T-shirt and fashionable jeans. I find myself hating him immediately. If this is the guy that does me in—honestly—I might be a little pissed.
I take a deep breath. “Any of you folks have a smoke?” I look to the driver and the gorilla. “Seriously, my heart’s going like a thousand miles an hour here. At least do me the solid of a quick break.” I point to the driver’s piece. “Not like I can really go anywhere.”
The gorilla stays silent. Driver reaches into her jeans and fishes out a cigarette. Hands it to me and gives me the evil eye.
I slip the cigarette between my lips. “Lighter?”
She digs back into her pocket and pulls out a book of matches. Uses a single hand to get a match head sparked and offers the fire to me with a tired sigh.
I lean the cigarette in and take a few puffs; a familiar flavor coats my tongue and throat. Pull the stogie from between my lips and eye it. “What kind of cigarette is this?” I give it a sniff. “I’ve had these before.”
She clears her throat. “Lebanese. Cedars.”
“No shit?” I take another pull. “Damn, it’s been fucking ages since I smoked one of these.”
“Finish up.” The gorilla speaks. He does that little side to side move with his neck and puffs out his chest. Self-esteem issues up the ass with this one. “Not smart to stay outside like this.” Well, he is right about that.
“One sec.” I wave him off and smile to the driver. “You have a name? Feels weird you know about me and—” I motion around us, “—you seem knowledgeable about my old stomping grounds.” Point at the Kozy. “My mom’s job too.”
She looks to the diner. Frowns. “Hannah.”
“I wish the circumstances were better, Hannah.” I reach a hand out.
She stares at it. Gives me a look of disbelief and stands her ground.
I smile and raise my hands up in surrender. She’s a pro. “You can’t blame me for giving it a try.” I flick the spent Cedars cigarette toward the van. “Your partner?”
Hannah motions to the van. “Ayah.”
“She okay? I noticed…” I point to my left wrist. Realize it’s a stupid thing to do, but I’ve already crossed that bridge.
The gorilla grabs me by the shoulder. “Socialize later. Business now.” The grip’s overkill. He’s desperate to show me he’s the boss.
I bring my hands up. “Right, right…business.” I shrug him off. Doesn’t take much effort. More like a paper gorilla, this guy.
He gives me a pat down and ushers me into the diner. Brings me to an empty booth and walks back over to Hannah, who’s waiting by the door.
The place is dead silent. I take a seat in the nearest booth and try not to reminisce about eating in this dump two or three times a day. I think about Liam. Think about how the ghosts are talking. I wonder if more will come back—if he will be back. I don’t think I have the stomach to handle seeing that kid again. Not after all this time.
The front door opens again, and Hannah walks in with Ayah close behind. They sit at the booth to my right. Hannah stares at me. Ayah whips out a comic book and buries her nose inside. In the booth behind the girls, a collection of my ghostly friends stay seated. No verbal abuse or commentary. They’re enjoying the show. I see familiar faces, but I can’t connect the lines to names or jobs. I feel bad about that. The least I could have done was remember why I killed most of them. Well, beyond money.
“All right, everyone’s here.” The gorilla walks between the booths. Points at Hannah and jabs a thumb at me. “Keep your eyes open. He’s got a reputation.”
“A reputation? What the hell did they tell you people about me? Shit, who told you that about me?” I can’t see Paulie giving me that much credit.
Gorilla goes behind the counter and through the kitchen door. I hear his voice join the others. A hand pushes the door open part of the way and I can hear them a little clearer. An Irish lilt, thick as cream, and a woman’s voice. No, not a woman’s voice: my mother’s voice. I grip the tabletop and stare at the door. If I’m quick, I can go for Ayah’s piece. Take her as a hostage—a bargaining chip—and get my mother out of this mess. We ain’t friends, but we’re still family. I shift a little in my seat and get myself ready to make my move.
The door swings open all the way and she walks out. High heels click-clacking against tiles in a steady rhythm. Not a care in the world as always. She walks past me like I’m not there.
“Ma…” It falls out of my mouth like wet clay.
She walks out the door. I hear her bring the shutter down and lock the padlocks. I get this sinking feeling inside the same as I did when I knew Liam was gone. I close my eyes, put my head in my hands, and rest my elbows on the table. The table shifts a little as someone joins me on its opposite bench of the booth. Doesn’t matter. Whatever they got planned, I can’t find it in me to really care.
“Get it over with.” I keep my head down. Wipe my eyes with the back of my hands.
A short chuckle breaks the silence. “Fuck’s sake, Mutters. You’ve gone soft over the years? You look fit to weep.”
I look up at my company. Nearly fifteen years on and he’s not changed an inch. Maybe a few more tattoos up and down his arms—a big, honking pair of mutton-chop sideburns, too—but the hair, the leather, the smile are all the same. A ghost of violence past.
“Danny.” All the air seems to leave me. I fight the urge to smile, to run over and embrace him. With everything going on, I can’t be sure his presence is welcome. This might be an incredibly short reunion.
He nods. Leans to his left and stares at the front door. “She’s gone, right?”
I turn my head and see the gorilla check and nod back to Danny. He stays stationed at the front door.
“Fucking wonderful.” Danny fishes a cigarette—a Cedars—from his front jacket pocket and lights it. As he moves, I can see the
first four buttons of his shirt are undone. Spot Bettie Page’s lovely face now flanked by two ornate sailor sparrows made up of clockwork. “Jesus, can’t remember the last time someone called me Danny.”
I watch him. Keep my hands on the table. “I can certainly remember the last time someone called me Mutters.”
“Can ya?” He blows a stream of smoke upwards.
“Yeah, the last time we worked together.”
He nods with a frown. “The Collins mess.”
I nod back. “The Collins mess.” I scratch my head. I can’t work out why he’s here. Is this Uncle Sean?
We stay silent. Danny looks away from me and puffs on his cigarette. I look to Hannah and Ayah. Hannah’s cleaning her gun—makes a show of it. Ayah’s somewhere in the middle of an Amazing Spider-Man collection. My ghosts haven’t left. They’ve positioned themselves all around us, just watching. Their eyes seem empty and the stuff behind their skin ebbs like water hit by a stone.
I look back to Danny. “So, what’s the deal? You’ve been sent in to off me? Give me a familiar face behind the gun? Small comforts, huh?”
Danny narrows his eyes, jerks his head back. “Fuck no, nothing so morbid.” He flicks ash to the floor. Reads my face. Points to the ground with his chin. “I’ll clean that later. Look, I heard there were issues regarding your recent escapades.”
“How’d you hear about me?”
“Ah, well, that’s quite the tale.”
I lean back. “Well, I got lots of time. I’m a marked man, brother’s dead—” I jab a thumb at the door, “—guess my mom’s sort of done with me too.”
Danny lights a new cigarette with the stump of the old. “My condolences regarding your brother. Your mum told me about all that. You made the right call.”
A little surge of anger boils up in my chest. “I’d rather not get into that. How’d you find me?”
“Word got out that Paulie marked you and—”
I hold a hand up to cut him off. “Wait, what do you mean Paulie marked me?”
“I mean what I said. He put the hit out on you and your brother.”
I lean in. Tap the tabletop with three fingers. “No, Tony Papa put the hit out.”
“Tony Papa?” He plays with a drink menu advertising two-for-one specials on Wednesdays.
“Yeah, some big timer. I’ve been working hits for him for years.”
Danny gives me a look like I’ve got three heads. “Hate to shit in your breakfast, Mutters, but there ain’t a soul in God’s creation named Tony Papa. That ain’t who Paulie works for.” He laughs to himself. “I mean, you never asked around? You that anti-social?”
“Business I’m in doesn’t involve socializing, Danny.” Fine, so there’s no Tony Papa, so who’s behind the curtain? “Who does Paulie work for, then? It can’t be for himself, it’s always been pretty obvious that for all the juice he had, it wasn’t on a capo level.”
Danny furrows his brows. “Fucking hell, it ain’t obvious? Why did he hire you to begin with?”
I don’t answer. It’s incredibly obvious. Paulie knew what I’d been up to overseas. He chalked it up to hearing it all on the grapevine, but that doesn’t make sense. I was going by Thomas Curren while I worked out there. There were only two guys that knew that. The first is standing right in front of me. The second…
I take a deep breath before I say it: “Sean.” I’m more embarrassed than angry as I realize it.
I see Liam appear behind Danny. He laughs at the news. I lay my shaking hands flat on the table and lower my head again. This—all of this—is bullshit. I can’t have been in the thick of it. It was over—I’d left. Sean let me leave. I clench both hands into fists and slam them down on the table. All this time, I’ve been chained to the same damn fence post. They’d only painted it a different color.
Danny’s people all shift, their hands hovering over their guns. Let them. It’ll be over with and I can rest. Worst case, Liam tears me apart in the afterlife. At least I’ll know I wasn’t crazy.
Danny lifts a hand to hold his people off. “He’s fine. Let the man get aggravated.”
It comes out small—quiet, but then I can’t hold it in anymore. All this time, every damn job, it was a grift. Liam won’t stop laughing—that high-pitched, weasel laugh of his. I’m reminded of the short time I had with him as a man—as two idiot brothers. The laughter’s catching, and I join in. I’m the loudest bastard in the room. The biggest fool in the story.
20
Danny drags me to the back and through the kitchen doors. The ghosts follow us in—spinning around each other in a gray wind. Tiny clouds of dust kick up from the floor from the corners and from under the stoves. I’m only half certain Danny can’t see it.
He grabs my shoulder and turns me around. Looks mad as hell. “What the fuck is your damage?”
I wipe a tear from my eye and stifle a chortle. “It’s a pretty fucked situation, man. I have no idea what else to do.” I want to tell him what I see. That the people I made a living from are still here with me—haunting me. That I’m completely cracked up and am probably more a danger to everyone else here than I am to myself. I don’t. Danny already knows I’m not all there and I trust him to put a bullet in my head if things get too far gone.
“I get that.” He lights a new cigarette and uses the sink as an ashtray. “So Paulie never told you anything? Nothing about continuing the work?” He leaves his cigarette hanging from his lips. “No fucking wonder this has been such a shit show.”
I run my hands over my head. “I thought I was done being Sean’s dog.” I laugh again. “I only started working for Paulie because Liam asked. When he ended up on his back, well, shit got tough. I needed the money.”
Danny shakes his head. “Let’s not dwell on that. What matters is what you don’t know here, Bryan.”
I flinch like he hit me. Can’t recall a time he ever called me by my proper name. “All right, so this is the part where you dump it all on me?”
Danny sighed. “Why you’d involve yourself with an idiot piece of garbage like Paulie Gigante, I’ll never understand.”
“I had to.”
“Had to?”
I shook my head and waved my hands at Danny. “My brother was—”
“Liam Walsh?”
I blink. “How do you know him?” That’s a surprise. I never told Danny much about my past, and he never asked. Sure, maybe Sean mentioned something, but Sean was a steel trap.
“Met him years back.”
“Wait, what?”
“We ran a few jobs together right before you got back stateside, I believe.”
“What kind of jobs?” I was leery. Danny wasn’t muscle. He did serious—crazy—shit. Liam told me he roughed up a few fellas, but if he ran with guys like Danny…
“Nothing insane. Just drops and sales.”
I could hear Liam laughing again. My heart about broke. “Drugs?”
“Does it fucking matter? Drugs, guns. Easy money. Nothing graphic.” That was Danny. The criminal life? No big deal. You made your share and moved on. “We both shunted once they started dipping into the sex trade. Only so much of that shit a man wants to do. I missed getting my knuckles dirty.”
“And Liam?”
“Went and signed up to commit the same mistakes as his dear older brother.”
“You never mentioned?”
“Not a once.”
I nodded. “Thanks for that.”
Danny only nodded back.
We remained silent for a minute. I tried to settle into the idea that Liam was a lot dirtier than I ever let myself believe. I knew he wasn’t a saint, but I hadn’t imagined he would fall into the dark as hard as I did. I mean, drugs? A bullet ended a life, but drugs, man; drugs put people into a suspended state of torture. I never wished that shit on my worst enemy. I was glad he didn’t stick around for whatever Paulie ran next. I don’t think I could bear the idea of my brother willfully bein
g a part of the sex trade. Half of what I hear about that business is a nightmare; the other half is worse.
Danny broke the quiet, “Look, I only know as much as I’ve told you. According to Paulie, you went stoolie. He called your uncle and Sean signed off.”
“Why? I did what I was supposed to.”
“You was supposed to kill a fucking federal agent?”
Stranger, then Benny Papa—now federal agent? “Hold up.” The blood’s boiling again. My head feels eerily clear of distraction. I reach an arm out and motion to Danny. “Let me get a cigarette.”
He hands one over and lets me light it with the cherry of his own.
“I shot a fed?” I speak through my teeth. Take a long drag of my cigarette. Standing here with Danny, almost feels like old times. The nostalgia’s both disturbing and comforting. I can’t fall into that. All these revelations. It’s all too fast. Danny’s lied to me before. For all I know, this is a line of bullshit. Just another way to get me to be his stooge.
“You killed a fed. No clue who he was, but Paulie said he was the guy you were giving info to. Said you offed him because you was getting ready to run.”
I pace a small path back and forth. “Sean believed that shit? What sense does that make?” I look to Danny. “To be honest, I’m having a hard time believing any of this. How do I know any of it is true?”
Danny shrugs. “You don’t, and I give fuck-all if you do. Someone keeps leaking shit to American and international agencies and Sean’s gone full-bore doomsday prepper. Last I heard he was leapfrogging shit-hole apartments all over Ireland. The old fuck has gone nutso-paranoid. Jumping at shadows and all that.”
I take a larger drag off the cigarette. It’s more bracing than the last. The old me starts clawing out as each second passes. I need to work this out. I’m at a disadvantage now, so fine, let’s go with Danny’s tale. If things start to sour, I need to give myself time to get to equal footing before I make a move. “So it’s sons of bitches all the way down. Got a handler selling me out because I ain’t a cheap date and my own flesh and blood is scared enough to go with it. He ever stop to think Paulie’s the rat? Jesus, how is Paulie even working for Sean?”
Hell Chose Me Page 13
