Vigilante Angels Trilogy

by Billy DeCarlo

  He lit a few of Moses’ candles and burned a stick of his jasmine incense. It’s not a date, asshole. When he was satisfied, he sat on the couch and turned on the television just in time for the evening news. A knock came at the door, and he rose to check the peephole before opening it.

  “Lukas, my man. What’s up? Come on in.”

  Lukas entered and gestured to the leather vest proudly displayed on a hanger. “Nice to see you giving respect to those threads,” he said.

  “Damn straight. Now, where’s my scoot?” Tommy asked, laughing.

  “It’s a BYOS kind of club, brother. We got enough trouble keeping our own running.”

  Whitey ran into the room to greet Lukas, who bent to pet him. “So what do you think? You want to adopt old Whitey here, or do some kind of shared custody? I’m always downstairs to help out. He doesn’t like being in my place alone all day when I’m at work.”

  “Sounds like a winner,” Tommy said. “I love this dog. I feel a little bit of Moses in him.”

  Tommy reached for the tin, and they began to share a joint as the news program droned on the TV. The presidential election campaign season was just beginning, and the focus was on a charismatic new primary candidate from the right.

  “Republican Candidate Thomas Brand is firing up his base, promising jobs for the working class, and an economy invigorated by tax cuts for corporations and the wealthy,” droned the newscaster.

  “Damn,” Lukas said. “Another rich old white guy promising salvation for the poor folk. Same old shit. They already tried all that trickle-down stuff. Nothing trickled down; all they did was hoard the profits, give each other big bonuses, and pass the rest on to the stockholders. Poor people ain’t got no stock. And people ended up getting no raises and laid off anyway, same as always. Here we go again. Nothing changes with these motherfuckers. Same old song and dance.”

  They watched a clip of the candidate pompously preening before a braying audience.

  “Look how fake,” Tommy said. “What do you figure that haircut alone costs? This guy doesn’t know anything about what it’s like for other people. Born with a silver spoon from his rich daddy.

  “And check it out, how many brothers and sisters you see in that audience? Nada. It’s like 90% redneck white dudes.”

  Tommy sat back and gave him a pretend glare, the kind Moses would have given to him.

  “Oh, shit. Present company excepted,” Lukas laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “You’re right, though. Look at the audience, Lukas. Look what he’s doing. They’re all working-class. You hear any of this guy’s spiel? It’s veiled racism, homophobia, pandering to the religious right. Straight out of the Republican playbook, but way more extreme. This guy’s dangerous. He’s playing everyone.”

  “Yeah,” Lukas responded. “He’s dangerous unless you’re a straight, rich, Christian white guy.”

  “Exactly,” Tommy said, stabbing out the rest of the joint. “Hey, I got company coming, she’s bringing me something to eat. You want to hang out? She’s real nice.”

  “Oh-ho,” Lukas said. “Date night?”

  “Nah, just a friend, bringing me over some dinner, so I don’t starve to death. I’m so nauseous though, I don’t know if I can eat. I took extra meds, hopefully between that and the pot I’m okay.”

  “She must be a good friend, coming around this neighborhood at night. Anyway, I got to roll. Enjoy your time, Tommy. I’ll check you tomorrow. C’mon Whitey, let’s give the man some privacy.”

  Tommy saw him out, then retook his seat and continued watching the news. He was concerned that they might cover the murder of the priest again, so he switched the channel.

  Hearing a car outside, he went to the window. He watched as a vehicle was expertly parallel parked against the curb and Carmen got out. Several of the Eagles were out front, and something was said to catch her attention. She laughed, obviously giving some of it back.

  She’s amazing. He watched as she carried a stuffed grocery bag up the stairs to the building entrance. The male Eagles looked on with admiration as she passed.

  He tried to breathe and relax as he heard her climb the stairs. The adrenaline and excitement were coursing through his body, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It’s not a date, stupid. He rose to open the door so that she didn’t have to knock.

  She entered, and he nervously wondered how to greet her. His options were limited since she had her hands full, and as he took the bag from her, she reached over and kissed him on the cheek. “How’s it going in the new digs, Tommy?” she asked. “For some reason, you seem to fit right in here. The bodyguards downstairs think quite highly of you, I can tell.”

  “Hello, Carmen. Yeah, it’s okay here. Comfortable, you know? And cheap.” They laughed as he took the bag to the kitchen.

  Tommy went to the closet and retrieved the purse he and Molletier had rescued from the dumpster. “Hey, this look familiar?” he asked her.

  Carmen turned and smiled at the sight of her purse. “Tommy! How did you get it back?” She rushed up to him, overjoyed, and gave him a prolonged kiss on the lips.

  “A little old-fashioned police work, along with some strong coercion,” he said. “I cleaned it up for you as best I could.”

  She opened it and withdrew some of her items. “My driver’s license! I wasn’t looking forward to the hassle of replacing that.”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, there’s no credit cards, assuming you had some in there.”

  “I canceled them right away,” Carmen said. She pulled a wad of bills from the purse and counted them. “Wait a minute...Tommy, I wasn’t born yesterday. No way they left the cash in there. You did this.”

  “Hey, those guys are dumb,” Tommy teased her.

  “Yeah, and generous, too. I only took two hundred out of the bank, there’s three here.” She pushed the money at him.

  “No, Carmen. You keep it. I can’t stand to think about you getting robbed. I can take the hit, I’m in good shape. Keep it for the stuff you bought for dinner, and buy yourself something nice, like a .380 to keep in that purse,” he laughed.

  She peeled off a hundred dollars. “Take this or take it all. That’s my final offer,” she said firmly.

  He didn’t want risk upsetting her, so he took it. “You’re a tough negotiator, I like that in a woman.”

  “Alright then,” she said. “Here’s the deal. You sit right down there and relax. I know you go back into treatment tomorrow, so you know the drill. I wanted you to have one big special meal before that ordeal. Just relax, let me do my magic here in the kitchen, and we’ll have a nice meal together. It’s taco night, you like tacos?”

  “That sounds easy enough to me, and I love tacos,” he responded, retreating to the couch. He tried to pretend to watch the TV, but he couldn’t take his eyes from her, bustling around the kitchen. She seemed to know where everything was, and she hummed and sang softly to herself as she prepared the meal. She set the table for two and moved a few of the candles to it.

  “I picked up some wine,” Tommy said. “In case you want it. I don’t partake myself.”

  She sat a wine glass at her place setting and came into the living room with a bottle. “Seriously? Mad Dog? Bum wine?” she asked him, holding out a bottle of Mogen David 20/20.

  “Oh, shit, no,” he answered, embarrassed. “I’m sure you know who that belonged to. Mine is on top of the fridge.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said wistfully. “Good old Moses. I remember the first day you came in, you two going at it like cats and dogs.”

  “I’d like to go back,” Tommy added. He cursed himself, wondering if he’d dampened the mood.

  They ate, mostly silent other than the crackling of taco shells as they dove into the meal. “Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, as she refilled her wine glass.

  “No, it’s fine,” Tommy responded. “I’m not an alcoholic or anything, as far as why I don’t drink. It just wasn’t doing me any good. I mean, in the cop
days, it was excessive. Stress of the job, stress at home, and all that. I like the herb now, Moses turned me on. Much better.”

  “More wine for me,” she said, and they both laughed again.

  They finished and cleaned up, Tommy washing and Carmen drying the dishes. There was an awkward pause after they were done. He didn’t know whether to invite her to stay longer and if he did, whether she would stay out of pity.

  She saved him again. “So, what’s on this ancient television. Maybe ‘I Love Lucy’?”

  “If it starts showing the news from the sixties, which is when I think it was built, I’m running out of here,” Tommy said. He flipped the few channels that he could get reception for and found the beginning of Casablanca.

  “I love this!” Carmen said joyfully. “Can we watch it?”

  He tried his Bogart impression. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” She giggled, and he resisted the impulse to continue. “Sure thing,” he said. “It’s not like I’m a busy guy, and I have to confess, I do love the company.”

  “Well, I’m working the afternoon shift tomorrow, so I’m ready to relax,” she said.

  She brought over the wine bottle and her glass and set them on the coffee table, while he went to the linen closet and brought over more pillows for the couch.

  “Oh, now this is comfy,” she said, sinking back into it.

  It was awkward sitting on the couch with the space between them, and he wished it weren’t. She drained the last of the bottle halfway into the movie, and slowly, somehow, they closed the gap between each other. He could tell she was getting drowsier, and soon they were watching with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

  And then they were both asleep, almost horizontal, lying back against the pillows on the couch. He roused, thinking it was a dream. He didn’t want to move and take the chance that she would wake up and leave. Then she stirred slightly, her arm shifting to lie across his crotch. He wasn’t sure whether he should move it; he certainly didn’t want to.

  He reached over and took her hand, leaving it there while the soft dialog and music of the movie played across the room. The candles burned and flickered, now mostly liquid in their glass containers.

  She shifted again, and then turned and kissed him. He wasn’t sure whether she was still half-asleep and dreaming and then wondered if it was just the alcohol. He kissed her back, softly, while trying to figure it out. It was something he could only dare to dream about during the short time he had known her. The cancer times.

  Their kiss became prolonged and more passionate, as she released his hand and began to gently rub his crotch. He used his free hand to cup her breast over her delicate shirt. It had been a long time since he had experienced desire, particularly anything resembling this kind of true, raw passion. He wondered if this was okay, as she had been drinking. Things are different today. And I’m still married.

  As they continued, he began to panic as he realized that despite his enjoyment and the excitement of what was happening, he was feeling no physical reaction. He could tell that she was becoming aware of the problem as well. She broke off their kiss, and his excitement turned to shame.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Damn Catholic guilt...”

  They were sitting up now. “It’s okay, Tommy. Listen, your body is under assault. Your mind is under tremendous stress. It’s not unusual. I shouldn’t have; I get a little crazy after that much wine. I should’ve taken it easy on the stuff. Wow, look at the time.”

  She started to collect her things, and he tried to talk faster to head her off, to get her to stay just a little while longer. “Hey, maybe you shouldn’t drive. Stay here tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re right; I have a lot going on. You’re beautiful, Carmen. This is something I’ve dreamed about...”

  She smiled at him. “No worries, Tommy. Things are different these days. More casual. It’s better that way. I gotta run, though. I had a wonderful evening.”

  “Maybe it’s better if you remain just a fantasy to me, Carmen,” he said sadly.

  She kissed him, on the cheek again, and then left. He stood silently, looking at the closed door. His shame now mixed with anger. His face burned. He punched the wall, fortunately missing a stud, his fist sinking into the drywall. When he slumped back down on the couch, he could still smell her perfume, even as the sound of her car going down the road grew faint.

  23 Air-in-Line

  Tommy lay back in his recliner, the infusion console ticking away next to him. He was the only one in his pod, and the others were sparsely populated. Although a week had passed, he was nervous about facing Carmen after his disappointing night with her. Fortunately, she was away from the unit when he arrived, and Beulah had started his treatment.

  Carmen arrived, and he watched them take a short break and chat with one another, laughing. He imagined them talking about him, his failure, and resisted the desire to rip the IV out of his arm and leave. Easy, boy. He felt like an awkward fifth-grader sitting next to the girl in school who’d refused him at a dance the night before.

  He was startled by the warning beeps that suddenly came from his console. ‘Air-in-line’ flashed in red letters scrolling across the display. Damn it. Carmen noticed and broke away from Beulah, starting to head his way. He felt defenseless; he wanted to shrink into the chair and disappear. Carmen came over and repaired the problem in a businesslike manner.

  She broke the tension by taking the empty recliner next to Tommy. “You busting up my equipment to get attention, mister?” she asked him with a smile.

  “That equipment ain’t all that’s broken,” he answered. She blushed, and he found it beautiful.

  “Hey, anyway, how’s it going?” she asked him, clearing her throat.

  Tommy looked around. “Well, as you well know, based on our last get-together, not too groovy.”

  “Tommy—listen, don’t beat yourself up. You’re not a hundred percent. You’re on a lot of meds. It’s common.”

  He decided to assuage his embarrassment by changing the subject. “Where’s everyone? No Molletier today?”

  “He’s on maintenance while he’s in remission. Once-a-month treatments.”

  “What about the others who’re usually here? Where’s that creepy, annoying kid?”

  She shifted uncomfortably, and he guessed the worst. “Business is slow,” she answered. “I guess we’re doing a good job here.”

  “Don’t take too much credit. I think it’s me. I get around people, and they go into remission. I think I’m sucking up the cancer from everyone else. I sure feel like I have mine and everyone else’s in me. You’re all looking for a cure; maybe I’m the cure. The cancer-vacuum.”

  She placed a hand on his knee and squeezed it. He was conscious that her hand fit easily around it. That never would’ve been the case before. He ignored the pain it caused him, unwilling to let her see it.

  “You’re going to be okay, Tommy. If anyone can beat this, it’s you. Don’t let the setbacks get you down. You have to be strong mentally. Stronger than the disease. Don’t allow for a second that it’s getting the best of you.”

  “Easier said than done,” he responded. He looked at her, falling in love all over again. The way he had the first time he met her, in the very same spot. “Anyway, the stuff the doc has been giving me for those, um, unpleasant side effects has been working pretty well. I’m taking some B12 and some other stuff from Molletier, secrets from deepest, darkest Asia, to get my energy level back.”

  “Careful, Tommy—some of that stuff can interfere with your treatment.”

  “Well, whatever, it’s working. I can get around better. Got a little more pep in my step, if you know what I mean. Listen, I have this amazing cannelloni recipe from my grandmother. Secret sauce and all that. What say you stop by and try some?”

  She shifted in her seat and looked at the floor. “Tommy, I think you’re an amazing, handsome, strong man. It’s not because of what happene
d last time, but I shouldn’t. You’re a patient. I didn’t come over that night intending for anything like that to happen. I drank too much, got drowsy, it happened spontaneously. I had no business letting it happen, I know better...”

  “Yeah, I was there,” he interrupted with an edge to his voice. “Or, more accurately, it didn’t happen. But I’ve been reading up. They have something for that side effect too, right? You said I’m gonna beat it. If I had you, my will to survive would be a hundred times more. We could be good together, Carmen. I’m pretty well set. I’ll get you the hell out of here, we’ll go away to an island, live happily ever after...”

  She removed her hand from his knee. “I care deeply for you. Don’t make this difficult, please. I just can’t, Tommy. I’m so sorry.”

  He looked at her and saw tears welling in her eyes. She stood and moved swiftly through the unit and out into the hallway toward the bathroom. He became angry at his situation, angry at his life and what it had been, angry at his fate. He switched on the television for his pod and tried to get his mind settled down. Another bridge crossed and burned.

  He looked across the unit and saw Molletier coming toward him. “I thought it was your day off, Sensei? What’re you doing here?” Tommy asked.

  “Visiting a good friend. Sorry I am late.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t want to hold you up then,” Tommy joked. “Who’s the lucky friend?”

  That brought a rare smile to Molletier’s face. He settled into the chair next to Tommy and began watching the television with him. Tommy appreciated his company and quiet demeanor.

  The newscast began a story about the Republican primary candidate Thomas Brand. They showed the man giving a fiery speech to another raucous crowd waving Confederate and American flags. “They want us to accept their deviant lifestyle...” The crowd roared in approval. “They are an abomination, and the Bible says they are sinners...”