Bartender

by William Vitka

  Shotgun says, “Shut the fuck up.”

  Pistol says, “They killed him, man.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Then to Saim: “You don’t let us out, we gonna start shooting.”

  Saim says, “That would be very, very stupid. You’re already on the hook for attempted murder of a police officer. Times two, as there’s two of us out here. Plus the guard on the ground.”

  Shotgun says, “You’re gonna do what we tell you to do.”

  “Your buddy out here? You see what he got for his troubles? Motherfucker’s rotting in the street. You want that? Do you guys want to stay alive, or do you want to end up dead shitting and pissing yourself?”

  Pistol screams. “You fucks! That’s my brother. That’s my brother.”

  Saim grips his gun. “Was your brother.” Trolling these violent assholes now.

  He motions for Joe to get ready to shoot.

  Backup arrives behind Joe and Saim.

  Joe tells the three squad cars that show to hold back with his hand.

  Saim says to the assholes, “Your brother’s worm food. I thought I was talking to the brain. Why’m I talking to you?”

  Pistol throws the teller up against the wall. Wags a finger at her. Don’t move. He drops the bag of money. Storms toward the door. Comes out from behind the bulletproof glass.

  Saim says, “Pistol.”

  Joe says, “Shotgun.”

  Pistol says, “You’re talking to me cuz—”

  Shotgun says, “You moron don’t—”

  Pistol stomps his feet toward the door. “You killed my fuckin brother.” Gun out. Ready to fire.

  Saim and Joe step out from cover.

  Joe puts two in Shotgun’s chest. The guy oofs and tumbles backward.

  Saim fires once. Pistol’s forehead implodes. The back of his head pops. Thick ropes of blood. Splinters of bone. A modern art painting gone horribly wrong.

  Saim and Joe walk into the bank, guns up.

  Joe says, “Clear.”

  “Clear.” Saim holsters his Glock.

  The hostages get up. Run.

  Saim kicks the Beretta away from Pistol’s body. Looks at the fingertip-sized entry wound. “Why? Why are you so dumb?”

  Joe kneels on Shotgun’s chest. “That hurt?”

  Shotgun says, “Yeah that fuckin hurts.”

  “Good. You realize that bulletproof vests stop the bullet but not the impact, huh?”

  “I think my ribs are broken.”

  “Good.”

  ***

  Later, Saim tells the shrink: “The guy with the AK-47 was firing on me. I asked him not to reload. Not to fire. I told him there was another way out.”

  Shrink says, “He didn’t agree.” She doesn’t look up from her notes and all those NYPD files on Saim.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “So you killed him.”

  Saim cocks an eyebrow. “Yes. I killed him. Three bullets. Two in the chest. Third went high and hit him in the neck.”

  The shrink nods without saying anything.

  Then after a few seconds, she says, “Why did you approach the bank without backup?”

  Saim keeps his cool. Wants to pop off, but doesn’t. Quite. “I told the precinct I was. We had to get in there. People’s lives were at stake.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I took the steps I thought were necessary to resolve the situation.”

  “According to eyewitness reports, you antagonized the suspects.”

  Saim groans. “I wanted to make them angry so they’d make a mistake.”

  The shrink finally looks up from all those stupid fuckin papers. “The suspects could have opened fire on customers in the bank. They could have killed one of the hostages. Or more than one. There could have been fifteen civilians dead because of you if that had happened.”

  “Except it didn’t.”

  “But it could have.”

  Saim furrows his brow. “I went with my instincts. They proved to be right.”

  The shrink crosses her arms. “What are you going to do when your instincts are wrong?”

  Saim shrugs. “I don’t know. But if they ever are wrong, I’ll probably be outta your hair for good.”

  13.

  Kieron says to Sarah, “I need a favor.”

  Aaron’s asleep in his room. Finally. The kid nodded off after the sun came up. But he got a good chunk of work on the spaceship done overnight. So there’s that.

  Sarah says, “With what?”

  Kieron motions her toward the bedroom. “C’mere.”

  She follows at his heels. “What’re you up to?”

  He lifts up the corner of his mattress. Pulls out a small black satchel. Something jingles inside. He drops the corner of the bed. Tosses the bag down.

  Sarah gets a look on her face. Like something smells funny. “What’s that?”

  “Open it.”

  Sarah’s voice is a whisper. “Kieron, what did you do?”

  He doesn’t like that at all. Those words. The accusation.

  She’s right, of course. But he still doesn’t like it.

  “I didn’t do anything.” His brain searches for fresh bullshit. Shovels it out. “My grandma died. She didn’t have a lot. But she did have this for me. Go on. Open it.”

  Fresh, Grade-A bullshit.

  Sarah sits on the edge of the bed. Reaches for the satchel. Shakes it.

  Jingle jingle.

  She unzips the bag. Looks in. She sucks a breath of air through her teeth and pulls out a sparkling bracelet of white gold. “Holy shit.” Another bracelet. Two necklaces. Two rings. “Holy shit, Kieron. This stuff is beautiful.”

  Kieron shrugs. “Old bird had good taste.”

  “How much is this stuff worth, you think?”

  “A few thousand.”

  “Are these diamonds? These are diamonds. This stuff is worth a lot more than a few thousand.”

  Kieron feels a tickle in his stomach. Excitement.

  All that money...

  Sarah furrows her brow. “What is this favor, anyway?”

  Kieron crosses his arms. Acts like it’s no big deal. “I was gonna ask you to pawn this stuff. I really need some goddamn sleep. Been up for... I don’t even know. Too long. Hell, I’ll even give you a cut of the cash.”

  She looks at the rings. Tries one on. “You wanna sell this stuff? It was your grandmother’s.” The ring fits.

  “Yeah, it was my grandma’s. But—” Kieron walks into the kitchen. Grabs the stack of letters off the table. Returns and plops them down on the bed. “You see those? All bills. All motherfuckers saying I owe em money. Past due. The electric company. Cable company. That rotten bitch shrink who’d like nothing more than to have Aaron taken away from me.” Pissed now. Thinking about how bad he fucked up his own life.

  “Hey,” Sarah says. Her tone soft. She glides her hands along Kieron’s arms. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it.” She hugs him.

  He lets her. Kisses her cheek and rubs the small of her back.

  Now he feels like a shit.

  Reason he doesn’t want to pawn it himself is cuz those stores all got security cameras. Good ones. Cops or someone else could have fun tying him to the stolen shit. He doesn’t want that. Sarah, she’s not tied to anything. A whole step removed from the crime.

  And she’ll look for the best price, since she knows it’s important to him.

  He’s using her, is the point.

  A little rat of guilt scratches at his brain.

  He says, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “It’s all right.” She smiles. Caresses his cheek.

  They stand like that for a minute.

  She says, “The tragedy is that this stuff looks pre
tty good on me.” She fakes posing for him. Holds her hand out. Thrusts her chest out.

  He grins. Scratches his chin. “Yeah.” Closes the bedroom door so that they’re alone. “It looks really good on you.”

  14.

  Sarah rolls over. She lays her hand across Kieron’s chest.

  The bartender doesn’t grunt. Doesn’t stir.

  It’s the guy’s day off.

  He’s allowed to sleep till he wakes up.

  She plants her nose in his neck. Kisses him there.

  For all the dumb bullshit the Kieron’s been through, he’s nice to her. Doesn’t take advantage. And she knows he’s smart, even when he plays dumb. Maybe as smart as she is. But maybe not book smart.

  She thinks she could stay here for a while. Live here.

  Be happy with Kieron and Aaron...

  Aaron...

  She waits. Listens. Hears the sound of a movie in the living room. Low. Quiet enough so Kieron can sleep. Young kids talking on the television. The click and clack and snap of LEGOs being maneuvered into place.

  She’s glad to hear the noise. Glad Aaron’s distracting himself.

  She wants Kieron to get some rest. At the same time, she doesn’t want Aaron bolting in while she’s naked. It’s entirely possible that the boy wouldn’t care about her tits. Wouldn’t react to them at all. Given his problems.

  But it would freak her out.

  She slides out from under the covers. A cool autumn breeze blows through the open window. It tickles her skin. Goosebumps rise across her flesh.

  She picks her panties and bra up from the floor. Puts em on. Then jeans. Hoodie.

  Kieron stirs in bed. Tosses himself from one side to the other and stops moving.

  She kneels on the bed. Kisses his shoulder. “Sleep, cowboy. You deserve it.”

  He mumbles something.

  She thinks about saying it.

  Doesn’t.

  ***

  Sarah looks up local pawnbrokers on her laptop before she goes out.

  Wants to know what’s around.

  There’s a bunch.

  The whole business aspect of it seems shady as hell to her, though. Here are guys who set up shop with the express purpose of buying parts of people’s lives. And not paying suckers very well, at that. Then reselling the parts of those people’s lives at twice the cost.

  But, hey, that’s capitalism.

  ***

  Sarah sits next to Aaron in the living room. “What’re you watching?”

  Aaron stares at the diagram he’s drawn on paper. Says, “Explorers.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Three boys build a spaceship. They get help from out there.” He points to the sky. “Then they go up into space and meet the aliens. Cuz their lives aren’t very good on Earth. Then it turns out the aliens are kids, same as them.”

  “So they’re the same. Even though they’re different.”

  “They’re all kids.” Aaron tips his head and falls into Sarah’s lap. He does this sometimes. Like a puppy. “They’re the same cuz they’re scary till you know them. Kids are scary. Aliens are scary. So maybe aliens are all kids.”

  “But your dad told me the other day that you didn’t like Han Solo cuz you said he was a bad guy before he was a good guy. Even though he turned into a good guy. Isn’t a good guy a good guy if that’s what he is in the end?”

  Aaron shifts. “I was talking about kids meeting other kids.”

  “You’re saying Han Solo should’ve known better cuz he was an adult.”

  “I guess.”

  Sarah kisses him on the cheek.

  “Aaron, you are a very complicated little man.”

  ***

  She walks outside, the satchel fulla jewels in her overnight bag.

  There’s a pawnshop between Avenue B and Attorney. Called Jewels and Coins. A short walk from the bar. Green sign. Set up the same way a bodega is—a space to walk and look at shit while a guy behind the counter looks at you—but with metal fencing and bulletproof glass.

  She looks at the jewels before stepping inside. Mindful of the security camera staring at her face.

  There’s a ring in the bag she wants to save.

  Not for herself.

  She wants to save it cuz Kieron should hold onto something from his grandma. A little token. And maybe Aaron can use it when he gets bigger and finds the woman he wants to be with. Or the man.

  She digs through all the stuff.

  There it is.

  Thin, white gold outside with a line of platinum in between. A perfectly circular diamond on top.

  She slips it onto her left ring finger.

  Goes in.

  ***

  The pawnbroker watches her ass in her jeans.

  She wonders why he’s staring then wonders why she’s wearing them.

  Cuz I like looking good and he’s an asshole.

  So fuck him.

  She puts the jewels on the counter. Slides em under the guy’s bulletproof window.

  The slimy guy looks at her.

  Sarah says, “The jewels are on sale. Not me, fucker.”

  He nods. “Apologies.” He pulls out an eyepiece and looks everything over. The pawnbroker says, “I can give you eight thousand for everything.”

  Sarah cocks an eyebrow at him. “Eight? I know what these are worth.”

  “Nine.”

  “What’ll the guys on Rivington say?” She taps the counter.

  “Okay. Ten. But those guys... They’re gonna lowball you. They’ll tell you it’s eight even with the diamonds. I’ll give you ten.”

  “But will they gawk at my ass the same way you did?”

  “They’ll be worse.”

  “Maybe, but you talked yourself out of this deal when you went up two grand after I doubted you. What happen? You get too excited?”

  ***

  The pawnbroker on Rivington says, “Twelve.”

  And then Sarah’s very curious. Initial offers going from eight to ten to twelve.

  What’s a lowball offer now?

  She wishes she knew more about jewelry. She was just bullshitting before.

  Sarah says, “You’re sure. Twelve.”

  “Twelve.”

  “These were my boyfr —” She stops. Is Kieron her boyfriend? Yeah. He’s gotta be. “My boyfriend’s grandmother just died. These were hers.”

  The guy, who hasn’t stared at her ass at all, says, “She had good taste. But I’m telling you again: Twelve.”

  ***

  She goes back to the first slimy guy. “Folks on Rivington offered me twelve.”

  The pawnbroker with eyes for her ass says, “That right?” He bites his lip. Mutters. “Listen sweetheart, I don’t know how much more I can help you out here.”

  Sarah smiles. “Try.”

  ***

  She asks the Rivington guy, “Can you beat thirteen five?”

  He squints at her. “You really like this boyfriend of yours.”

  She nods.

  The broker says, “I hope he appreciates it. All the legwork.”

  “He works overnights. He’d be here if he didn’t need to sleep.”

  “So you do him a favor, pawning all his grandmother’s jewels.”

  “Not all of em.” She doesn’t know why she says it. Maybe cuz she doesn’t enjoy the idea of some goddamn pawnbroker judging Kieron. She shows him the ring she snatched from the satchel. Not real sure why she does that either.

  He nods. Approves. “Looks like the best of the bunch. He give that to you?”

  “Of course.” She smiles. Lies. “So, like I asked: Can you beat thirteen five?”

  “You know you need to sign for all this in case it’s stolen? ID, all that?”

&
nbsp; “Not a problem.”

  ***

  Sarah sits at the bar.

  Lizzy saunters over to her. “You’re lookin pretty happy, cowgirl. What can I getcha?”

  “Your finest Guinness, Madame.”

  Lizzy snorts. “Comin right up.”

  Sarah checks her watch. It’s early evening. She and Kieron fell asleep around seven thirty in the morning. She set out around four in the afternoon. Figures she can have a drink or two before going upstairs.

  Lizzy puts the Guinness down in front of her. “On the house.”

  “Thank you.”

  The bartender eyes Sarah’s ring. The one she stole outta the satchel. Lizzy nods to it. “That what you smiling about?”

  Sarah forgot about the gem, but she grins.

  “Oooh.” Lizzy does a little dance behind the bar. To the unspoken delight of the male customers. “That’s from Kieron ain’t it.”

  She lies. Sorta. “Sure is.”

  “Goddamn it, girl. We’re doin a shot together.” Lizzy lays out two for them. Jameson. “I always knew he was a good man. Way he kills himself trying to take care of Aaron.”

  “He is a good man.”

  Lizzy raises her shot glass. “Well then. To a good man.”

  They down their drinks.

  Sarah feels the liquor burn its way to her stomach. She sniffles. Throws some Guinness behind it. Says to Lizzy, “You can’t say anything to Kieron. You can’t.”

  “Woman, you’re wearing his ring. Why can’t I? Hell, I’m tempted to call upstairs and bug the shit outta him till he comes down for a drink.”

  “I just don’t know how many people he wants knowing, is all.”

  The whole time, Sarah thinks: I don’t even know how much bullshit I’ve conjured today. Lies upon lies. Just hope Kieron won’t be angry.

  She tells herself: Girl, he won’t be angry when he sees the fifteen grand you got.

  15.

  It’s Kieron’s nightmare.

  His son tied with barbed wire. On a table. In the dark. But there’s a spotlight. It shines down from an unknown perch in an unknown room. Aaron’s eyes are empty, bloody sockets. He turns a rusted metal wheel with his free hand that goes nowhere and serves no purpose. It just makes the same screeching, squealing, rusted noise.