Full Circle

by Carol Caiton

  Malcolm wanted to know why. Why fill out an application if she didn't plan to take advantage of membership? Why come back and book a suite at an extended stay hotel before leaving the country?

  When he heard the soft chime that told him the time had come to choose, he walked back to his desk, sat down, and typed his password. If he accepted her blue, knowing she planned to move to Canada, he'd end up celibate for the next six months until he could reactivate his file. If he declined, however, it was possible her blue icon would find compatibility with another man. It had happened to Nina Millering, after all. And what if Lauren Mackenzie Hart became curious and decided to stay once she learned her icon had been accepted?

  He positioned the cursor over the plus sign and clicked.

  CHAPTER 27

  Philadelphia during the month of June wasn't as hot as Orlando in June, Michael decided. But it would catch up. Probably around August.

  "Pull over, will you?" he said when Kyle turned their rental car onto another familiar, yet unfamiliar street. He was flooded with memories, so many, so fast, he needed a minute to be still and breathe, let it all settle in.

  Kyle parallel parked beside the curb and turned off the engine.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah."

  But driving these streets was the strangest déjà vu he'd ever experienced and things were moving too fast for comfort.

  He stared through the windshield and saw an odd combination of hundred-year-old houses, some restored, some decrepit, and right next door, brand spankin' new townhouses.

  He stared at a deteriorating, waist-high stone wall that wrapped around the yard of a three-storied house just ahead.

  "Feel like walking?" he asked. He needed to plant his feet on the sidewalk and let the old and new reconcile.

  Kyle looked out the windshield as well. "Sure," he said and opened his door.

  Michael climbed out of the car and turned in a circle. Part of him, deep inside, felt some kind of euphoria . . . like standing on this sidewalk took him back to a carefree childhood. But it hadn't been carefree at all, holed up in an abandoned house, skinny and cold and hungry. Compared to the way it came to an end though, spending his days with people he'd loved and trusted was like a fairytale.

  But another part of him just felt plain sad. He'd come full circle. He supposed Kyle had too. These day though, they both had a hell of a lot more to show for themselves than they had as kids.

  "When's the last time you were back here?" he asked as they crossed the street.

  "Not since I was seventeen."

  Seventeen. Michael would have been sixteen. And that was the year he'd become Michael Rawson.

  "The bakery's gone," he noticed.

  "Yeah. The drugstore is too. It's somebody's house now."

  They walked in silence for a while. Some of the sidewalks were cracked and broken, some were in good repair. Some had weeds growing through the cracks, extending over a crumbling curb and sprouting between the bricks in the street.

  "Did it look this bad when we lived here?" he asked.

  "It was worse back then."

  Michael looked around. "Yeah, I guess it was."

  "So what's the plan," Kyle asked.

  "Whaddaya mean, the plan?"

  "Well I'm not a wiry kid anymore. I'd probably break a leg trying to climb up onto one of those third floor roofs."

  "Yeah, right. You're a frigging cop, Kyle. Derek's a frigging cop. Think I'm gonna contemplate a B&E when everybody's a frigging cop these days?"

  Kyle snorted. "You're not gonna contemplate a B&E because you've got too much to lose. And I'm not a cop anymore. I was never meant to be a cop."

  "Oh, I don't know. I think you were probably an okay cop."

  "I was a damned good cop."

  "Well okay then." Michael grinned.

  A few minutes later they came to the corner where a drugstore once stood—the drugstore he and Kyle had planned to rob. Two blocks after that, they turned onto the street where they both used to live.

  Michael felt his chest tighten as he stared at the line of old Victorian houses. Big, old trees cast shadows out onto the street. Other trees he remembered climbing as a kid were no longer there, and a few houses were just plain gone—nothing but grassy vacant lots between other houses. Fire? Condemned and demolished?

  Oddly, everything looked smaller than he remembered. And oddly again, it looked both better and worse than it had seventeen years ago. But he didn't see a single boarded up house.

  "Feels like an alternate reality, doesn't it?" Kyle said.

  "Yeah."

  He spotted Old Man Pelvine's house and stared at the fresh paint and well tended yard. The last time he'd seen it, the front porch was nothing but rotting wood and the roof sagged, looking like it might collapse in on itself.

  "Hell, Michael, walking this sidewalk with you after all these years is honest-to-god bizarre."

  "Yeah," he said again. He was distracted now, staring at the house he and his mother had lived in. He stopped walking, took another breather, and let it settle.

  "So," he said after a minute, "what're you gonna do with that college degree of yours—work construction the rest of your life?"

  "There's nothing wrong with working construction."

  "Nope, there isn't." He continued staring at his old home without its boarded-up windows. "But I've got this idea in mind for a business."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "And you've decided to mention this now, while we're walking around a shitty part of Philly with a tail on our butts?"

  "Two."

  "Two?"

  "Yeah. Separate though. They aren't together."

  Kyle harrumphed. "Maybe you haven't lost your edge after all."

  "Nope."

  "So you gonna tell me what's so goddamn important in that hidey hole of yours that we're out here risking our necks for?"

  Michael stared up at the three-story house and smiled. "Yeah," he said. Then he turned to face Kyle. "Pictures."

  He couldn't have said what emotion he saw in Kyle's eyes. Surprise? The reflection of a memory?

  "That ancient Polaroid we stole?"

  "Yeah."

  "So you're going to go knock on the door and tell the current owner you left your secret rock collection inside one of his walls?"

  Michael smiled. "Actually, I caught Joey pickin' through my stuff one day so I moved everything."

  "Geez."

  "Probably a good thing, too. It won't be so hard to get to."

  "This still isn't going to go down easy."

  "Yeah, well, you know what they say."

  "What's that?"

  "Anything worth having . . . etcetera, etcetera."

  "Yeah, I heard that one. And it looks like we're about to decide just how much those pictures are worth."

  There were four guys, three sauntering down the porch steps and their tail, talking on his cell phone, bringing up the rear. All were dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts, like it was some kinda uniform.

  "Hey, Ky, we in gang territory here?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well fuck man, you coulda said something."

  Kyle shrugged. "You wouldn't have left it alone until you got what you came for."

  "Yeah, well, I might've changed my strategy a little."

  "What strategy? You thought these houses were still boarded up."

  Michael shifted to balance his weight on both feet. "Yeah, well, that little prom queen of yours isn't gonna be real happy with me if I bring you home all banged up."

  "Don't worry, I told Rachel I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

  "Fuck you, Ky."

  "Yeah, yeah. Whoa—looks like the big cheese and his side dip are coming out now."

  Michael looked up to see two more black T-shirts starting down the porch steps toward them, both of them swaggering with the self-confidence of two punks who know they're covered on all sides.

  "We getting' old Kyle? These fucke
rs look like they belong in a classroom somewhere."

  "They do, don't they."

  Big Cheese came to a stop directly in front of Michael, then took a step back when he had to look up just to meet his eyes.

  "Looks like you took a wrong turn somewhere, asshole."

  Michael took his time answering. Six against two. Not the greatest odds, especially since these punks were probably carrying knives. But he and Kyle and grown up on this street too. They had size and experience on these teens and knew how to fight just as dirty.

  "Nope," he told the cheese. "No wrong turn. I got business here."

  "What kinda business?"

  Michael looked up at the house he and his mother had occupied. "I used to live in that house you just walked out of."

  "Yeah, so what?"

  "I left something behind."

  Cheese's dip laughed a loud bark. "Well ain't that just tough shit—"

  "And I want it back."

  The cheese went still. The fourth minion, his tail, closed ranks with the others and all six formed a half circle.

  "What the fuck makes you think it's still in there?"

  "Look at it this way," Michael said, answering him stare for stare, "if it is, you'll get yourself a convenient little hideaway that stood the test of time."

  "How much time?"

  "Seventeen years."

  The kid narrowed his eyes. "It's gonna cost you."

  Michael smiled and shook his head. "It's not gonna cost me anything."

  "Who the fuck do you think you are, comin' onto my block, wantin' somethin' outta my house?"

  Michael heard Kyle swear under his breath as two cars pulled up, one stopping at an odd angle beside the curb, the other stopping dead center in the street before a total of twelve more young punks scrambled out. Michael spotted his and Kyle's second tail among them.

  Every one of Cheese's group pulled knives.

  "Ah, fuck."

  The newcomers appeared to have a leader too, though none of them were dressed in gang uniform. And this guy was as tall as both Michael and Kyle.

  He took one look at Kyle, nodded once to his guys, and all twelve of them pulled their own weapons. Some were knives, some foot-long pieces of copper pipe. Shit, man.

  "Abdul," Kyle said, "Don't."

  Abdul spat onto the pavement in front of Kyle's boot, then looked over at Cheese. "These assholes are mine," he said.

  Michael knew right away who Abdul was and he liked these odds a hell of a lot better. Still, Cheese didn't want to lose face in front of his homeboys.

  "What the fuck? All you assholes think you got some divine right to come into my territory makin' demands?"

  Abdul stared hard at Kyle. "That one's a cop. And he killed my kid brother during a robbery."

  "Fuckin' shit."

  "So I'm thinkin' that gives me all kinds of rights."

  Michael looked at Kyle, but his face was a hard mask.

  "Yeah . . . okay . . . maybe we can go with that. I want a minute with this one though," Cheese said, pointing at Michael. "He's got some information I want."

  But he didn't have a chance to ask any questions. From both ends of the block a whole fucking parade of cop cars came barreling down the street, bar lights flashing.

  Two seconds later, every knife and strip of pipe disappeared from sight. The crowd around Abdul separated as first one cop, then another, became part of that circle.

  "Kyle," one of the cops greeted. "Problem here?"

  Kyle looked over at Big Cheese and grinned. "No problem, Matt. Jazz here was just going inside to collect some photographs my friend left behind last time he was in Philly. Isn't that right, Jazz?"

  Big Cheese gave an unwilling smile in return. All Kyle had to do was say something about all these guys packing concealed weapons and they'd be in handcuffs.

  "Yeah, sure, Kyle," Big Cheese answered. "Just tell me where they are, man."

  Michael pointed toward the front bedroom on the second floor. "That bedroom with the bay window. In the far corner there's a floorboard that'll pop out if you stomp on it."

  "Four photos," Kyle said. "Right Michael?"

  Kyle was ensuring that every one of those pictures came out the door intact. But he'd miss one.

  "Nope. Five," Michael corrected.

  The rest of the cops stood on the outer periphery of the large group and the bar lights flashing on five cop cars were drawing out the neighbors.

  Kyle made his way around to each of the men in uniform, shaking hands with some, introducing himself to others, and having a damned fine reunion.

  "What the fuck?" one of Cheese's kids said. "Is he some kinda celebrity cop or somethin'?"

  Michael kept silent. He was watching the front door, waiting for it to open and bring him something he'd wished many times over the years that he'd had. The house looked good, he admitted to himself. It was one of the ones that had been updated and the only thing identifying it as the one he'd lived in was the address.

  When the gang leader came back out, he carried an old yellowed envelope that had never closed all the way because the size of the photos inside kept the flap from reaching far enough. But the glue holding the thing together wasn't doin' its job anymore. All the flaps were loose.

  When he handed it over, Michael took a quick look and found all five pictures surprisingly preserved. He looked Cheese in the eye and nodded once. "Thank you."

  The kid frowned. He couldn't have cared less.

  "So," the cop named Matt called on everyone's attention, "whoever's blocking traffic with that Ford in the middle of the street needs to move it. And let's break it up here now. Let's go . . . ."

  Within three or four minutes, Abdul and his two-car group drove off, and the black Ts wasted no time scurrying back into Michael's old home.

  Matt looked at Kyle. "Hop in back and I'll give you a ride to your car."

  Kyle wouldn't have any problem climbing into the back of a squad car. But Michael couldn't bring himself to accept, not when he'd have to depend on someone else to let him out. Unreasonable maybe, but fact was fact.

  "You go ahead," he told Kyle. "I'll walk."

  But Kyle turned to the cop and said, "I catch up with you tomorrow, Matt. Michael and I are going to walk for a while, take a look around. Thanks for showing up so promptly. I didn't expect you to bring half the department though."

  "Not my doing. Someone calling himself Abdul phoned in a 911 and told dispatch that Officer Kyle Falkner got himself tangled up in gang territory and if the Philly PD wanted you back alive, we'd better send in a 'mess of cops.'"

  Kyle was surprised and, Michael thought, a little shaken. But he hid it and stuck out a hand. "Thanks again."

  "No problem. Don't forget to come down to headquarters."

  "I won't." He turned to Michael. "Ready?"

  "Yeah."

  The block was lined with curious neighbors and Michael took a last long look around, adding one more memory to the rest. He and Kyle rounded the corner, no tail on their butts, and walked in silence until they reached the building that once housed a bakery.

  "So, you gonna tell me why Abdul Washington showed up to save your ass?"

  The air whooshed out of Kyle's lungs. "The last time I saw Abdul, he was shouting threats of death and dismemberment at me while two of his cousins restrained him."

  "Well he was trying to keep all your parts together today."

  Kyle didn't answer.

  "Was Matt one of the tails we had?"

  "Yeah. I talked to him on the phone last night. Told him to give us a few minutes first."

  "That second tail I told you about?"

  "Yeah?"

  "He's been sitting outside Derek's and Kathy's house in a parked car since we got there."

  Kyle's head snapped around. "You should've said something."

  "I did. I told Derek."

  "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

  "Probably for the same reason you didn't tell me I was walking into ga
ng territory. Our tail was one of the guys who jumped out of Abdul's car." He stared at the clumps of grass growing between the bricks where their rental car was parked. "You told Rachel there was nothing to worry about 'cause you'd already called your cop friend for backup, huh?"

  They got into the car and Kyle started the engine. "Matt's a good friend."

  "Yeah, it struck me that way. So you planning to move back here to Philly? Sounds like you've got a good community here."

  "No. I'm not coming back. I've moved on now and . . . . Jesus, Michael, I'm married."

  "Yeah, how 'bout that."

  Kyle downshifted and turned a corner. "Jess and I are planning to stay in Florida, maybe buy some land and build a house somewhere not too far from Hannah."

  "Ya know," Michael said, keeping his voice even, "there's a couple of acre lots up for sale across the street from my place."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  The traffic light ahead turned red and Kyle slowed to a stop. Then he looked at Michael with a cocky-assed grin on his face. "Yeah, I noticed those lots."

  Michael met his eyes. "Fuck you, Ky."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  CHAPTER 28

  All in all, Kyle was feeling pretty good when he pulled alongside the curb in front of the big stone house that became home when Derek and Kathy took him in. Everything had gone better than expected. But Jesus, his heart had stopped with he saw Abdul hop out of that old Ford. And then it squeezed with grief when none of the boys he'd joked with and played ball with for six years would so much as look at him. A moment after that, he'd gone ice-cold inside, thinking he and Michael and Matt and his partner were going to be seriously outnumbered. The last thing he'd expected to learn was that Abdul had been watching out for him, that the kid had actually had him under surveillance.

  But he and Michael had walked away with four—he was pretty sure it was four photographs that, as far as the two of them were concerned, were priceless. He hadn't seen them yet, so he shut off the engine and held out his hand for the old yellowed envelope.

  Sliding them free, he stared at the one on top—him and Michael, shirtless in the dead of summer, grinning like two skinny, carefree kids when in fact they'd both become men long before their time. It had taken three tries to get this shot because Joey had been the idiot behind the camera and they were all laughing so hard, the kid kept clicking the shutter and cutting off important body parts, like half their faces.