by Adam Knight
Not trusting myself to speak yet I nodded and finished my milk. I began puttering with the dishes to keep my hands and mind preoccupied.
“Heading to the club?”
I hesitated but nodded.
What? I was gonna lie at this point?
“Okay.”
Okay?
My hands stopped their useless puttering and I turned my head slightly to peer at my mother.
She leaned against the stove wearily. It was well past her usual bedtime and dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes.
She was so damned frail.
In my mind’s eye I would always remember her in the bleachers of Donald’s ball games, jumping up and down and cheering as their team scored. Helping run and organize major group events at school, the church and at the community centre. A dynamic, outspoken and gregarious woman.
Deep down I knew she still had that fire and passion for life. It’s what made me the saddest as I stared at her now, hanging onto the stove for support to keep herself upright.
But her eyes, they still had life. Zest.
And understanding.
“Something bad is happening tonight, isn’t it?”
What do you say to that?
I nodded again.
Mom pursed her lips, bringing out the lines around her mouth and eyes. She was so frail, it made my heart ache.
“I ..” My throat was stuck and needed clearing. I tried that again. “With any luck I’ll be home before dawn.”
Her lips twisted, turning into a small smile.
“Your brother used to say that to me. Would make me crazy with worry.” She shook her head sadly, crossing her arms in front of her. Her eyes misted slightly. “He was so strong, so busy. Always off from one event to the next. Baseball. Hockey. Weekend tournaments.”
My guts twisted. We never talked about Dad and Donald. It was an unspoken rule. Nothing good could come from trips down memory lane.
“Mom … I …”
“You boys were so different.” Her gaze faded slightly, focusing on something just out of range, past my head. “You were always so inside your own head. Reading. Analyzing. Wanting to know every angle of something. Donald just wanted to go. To run. To live.” A tear escaped her eyelids and traced down her cheek. She let it run. “So full of life.”
My throat tightened painfully.
“Mom …” My voice was a croak. “Mom I don’t …”
“it wasn’t until you got older that I realized how similar you boys are. How like your father.” I blinked as well, trying to flick away my own tears. She smiled again at me. “You may have been more into your own head, but when you’d decided on a course of action there was nothing anyone could do to get in your way. Not in school. Not in life. It’s the part of you I’ve missed the most since …. Since they passed.”
I dashed at my eyes with my forearm. “I made my choices, Mom. I have no regrets.”
She stepped forward then and crossed the kitchen to meet me, gripping both of my arms weakly and staring up into my eyes.
“I have regrets, Joe. Me.” Her fingers tightened fractionally, might have been as hard as she could squeeze. “I should never have tried to keep this house. Let you move back in, take on so much responsibility.”
“Mom, I wanted to help …”
“And you have. Same as you would have if I’d moved to a smaller place. Something the insurance could have covered.”
“This is our home.”
“This was our home when we were all here. But we’re not anymore. We’re not, son.” Her voice broke and the tears fell from both of us. Mom pressed her forehead into my chest, sobbing slightly.
I held her close, resting my chin on top of her head. Her sobs rocked her body painfully.
Eventually the tears stopped and the anguish subsided. My shirt was wet from her eyes but I knew I wouldn’t change.
She looked up at me again. “I knew the minute you came in the door tonight that something had happened. That you’d made a decision to act.” Her lips twisted into a small smile again, a sad one. I matched it with one of my own. “It had been so long since I’d seen that look on your face. But I knew. I knew I couldn’t stop you. I won’t stop you.”
Relief and guilt battled for supremacy in my belly. I had been worried that Mom would try. At this point, she might’ve been the only one able to do so. Part of me regretted that she didn’t try; the part of me that was a deep rooted coward who didn’t want to get shit kicked for the second time in a week.
Her hands grabbed the sides of my face.
“Is this necessary?’
I nodded.
“Is there no other way.”
I shook my head.
“Does it have to be you?”
I hesitated.
Then …
“There’s no one else, Mom.”
She nodded. Then pulled my head down and gently kissed my cheek.
“Come on, help me get settled on the couch before you go.”
Within five minutes we’d gotten her tucked in, a blanket pulled up gently and a mug of tea steaming on the table beside her should she need it. At her insistence I left the TV on in anticipation of the late news coming in a few hours.
She was asleep within moments. I smoothed down her wispy hair and pressed a final kiss to her forehead before leaving the room.
I gathered up my personal affects and sorted through them quickly. No need for my wallet or full set of keys tonight. Grabbed a few dollars in cash and the keys to my Windstar and stuffed them into the front pocket of my cargoes. Took one last look over all of the items I usually carried with me and froze.
On the countertop were the two tickets for the Art Gallery fundraiser Cathy had given to me. I scooped them up and really looked at them for the first time.
In flowing script:
AN EVENING FOR KOREA
South Korean Ambassador
Mah-Jon Sun
will speak on
International Terror
and the effects of
Human Trafficking
on his Country.
Wheels started churning in my head again. All of the Asian faces at the club.
Not Pilipino.
Korean?
I threw on my battered leather bomber jacket and jammed the tickets into my coat pocket, eyeballing the clock over the kitchen sink. I still had thirty minutes before the lineup at Cowboy Shotz would get out of control.
Time enough for a quick phone call.
Chapter 46
The roads were lined with cars as I approached Cowboy Shotz on foot. I didn’t bother trying to find parking within five blocks of the club, opting instead for the same street where I’d met those thugs the week before. It felt symmetrical somehow.
Plus no one else was parked there. So, bonus.
Thoughts and images scrolled through my mind as I walked. The threads of information I had gathered were starting to make sense in my head even though I was mostly working on speculation. I hate speculation. Made my head hurt.
Thankfully this whole scenario revolved around three simple truths that allowed me to simplify my intention.
Girls were going missing.
The club was involved.
People who got in the way were getting beaten into silence. Or killed.
At the end of the day, that was enough for me. The rest of it – the whys and the what-fors – all of that was just details.
Boil the rest away and it was easy to see.
Parise was a dirty cop. Aaron was letting his club be used as a front. And I had let bad things happen under my very nose because I was too wrapped up in my own problems to let myself see.
But not anymore.
Thunder rumbled in the darkening sky overhead. It was little early in the year for a thunderstorm, but it suited my mood just fine. Gooseflesh tingled down my spine and along my arms in anticipation.
My fingers repeatedly clenched and unclenched with every step that brough
t me closer to the club. This was a new experience for me. In all my years of being in rough situations, dealing with drunks and getting physical I’d never actually started a fight before. It was a different feeling knowing that violence was imminent. Plans rolled through my head that I immediately discarded. Planning was only going to make me crazy. There were too many variables, too many people who might get involved.
Instinct worked best for me. Instinct and brute force.
The Neanderthal in my belly started up his tribal war dance again, poking at his bonfire with a long branch. Flames rose and tickled at my insides, feeding my anger and my sense of injustice.
I worried for a time about Mom, about leaving her to fend for herself. But her words reassured me. Intellectually I knew that she would be all right. Devastated at the loss of her only remaining son, but able to cope and move on. She was right, I needed to do this. Not out of a desire to punish. Not out of a sense of vengeance.
Just simply because no one else was available.
And because I wanted a tad bit of payback.
What? I’m petty. Sue me.
By the time I got to the club a lineup at least a hundred people deep was already down the block in front of Cowboy Shotz. The hot dog cart was in its usual spot midway down the line with girlfriends making street meat runs for their boys while they held spots in queue. Taxis and the occasional limo pulled up front of the club, dumping out groups of well-dressed partygoers who either made their way to the back of the line or were escorted past the queue and sent right in. Friday nights were always crazy busy as people wanted to burn off the last five days’ worth of work and anxiety by getting shitfaced, dancing until two a.m. and potentially dancing in a different way as the night turned into morning.
I just hoped to see the morning.
My eyes skimmed over the crowd of people in line as I walked past. Call it habit, call it instinct. Whatever. Years of crowd control jobs had ingrained the ritual into me. Scanning faces for anyone familiar usually in the hopes of identifying a troublemaker or someone previously barred from the establishment that was trying to sneak back in.
About halfway up the line I found my two cougar friends from the Downtown YMCA, Big Red McChesty and Miss Tiny TooTanned. Neither of them acknowledged my presence as I tromped past clearly lost in their own world of inconvenience, forced to wait outside like common folk.
Every step I took towards the club increased the beat of my heart ever so slightly. The electricity in the air thrummed in my ears, resonating off my flesh and buzzing in tune with the tingle at the back of my neck. How I never noticed this sensation for what it was in the past will forever remain a mystery to me.
The sky rumbled overhead. Bar patrons scanned the sky ominously, worrying about rain.
When I was ten feet from the main entrance I paused, standing in the exact spot where I’d been shot by Keimac Cleghorn. The man who – while a criminal – ended up being killed because he wanted the truth about his sister. I stared down at the pavement beneath my feet where my body had lain, bright blood spilling into the street. Then I shifted my gaze upwards at the roiling, black sky.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. The tingling sensation twitched and wreathed at the back of my neck, begging me to release it. The energies and thrumming in the air trembled against my skin and rattled my teeth.
On the third deep breath I exhaled forcibly and opened my eyes, striding towards the main entrance to the club with purpose.
Danny and two guys I didn’t recognize stood at the front holding the queue. The club’s uniforms had changed slightly; felt cowboy hats had been added to the bouncer’s attire along with white button up shirts instead of the previous black ones.
Seeing me coming, Danny stepped away from his post and put both hands up to slow me down. The hat on his head was completely oversized, drooping down to his eyebrows.
“Dude, you’re not supposed to be here. We’ve got strict orders to …”
I tried very hard not hurt the kid. He’d had my back on the night I got shot after all. But I couldn’t afford to get stalled right at the front entrance.
With one hand on his chest and the other holding his extended arm I slipped my lead leg in behind his and drove him hard to the concrete sidewalk. Air rushed out of his lungs as he hit, leaving him gasping and choking on the ground. People in line gasped loudly at the sudden rush of motion.
The other two guards charged forward hoping to disable me, one of them shouting into his walkie talkie.
I let a small trickle of the sensation building at the back of my neck off its leash, letting it join the thrumming in the air.
A violent squealing sound pierced the night, driving the shouting guard to his knees as he frantically tried to yank out his earpiece. Static and multiple ringtones sang into the air from the lineup as cell phones and other devices suddenly went haywire.
The other guard stumbled slightly in surprise at the noise in the air before charging headlong into my left fist which sent him the rest of the way to the ground.
The rush that followed was an incredible feeling. Power flowed down my limbs, humming and jumping in time with my racing heartbeat. Making me feel strong, fast and alert to all things and sounds.
But I knew that it wouldn’t last forever. There was no magical Viagra pill to help me keep this up for long. Eventually I would run out of juice and then things would get very interesting.
All around me I could my flesh vibrating with energy, almost like a second layer on top of my skin. It felt that tangible to me.
The people in line were creeping back and away from me, those that weren’t flat out leaving the line to head to find another watering hole for their night’s debauchery. Or staring at their cell phones in dismay. I stared at them briefly, watching them go.
Something pawed at my leg. Danny tried to roll onto his side, gasping for air and reaching up at the pockets of my cargos.
I dropped to one knee. “Stay down, kid.” I muttered, “If you follow me I’ll have to hurt you.” Danny took the hint and leaned back against the pavement again, trying to take a single controlled breath. I scooped up his hat from where it lay not two feet away and was about to hand it to him. Then I paused, staring at the big black hat in my hands.
Not, Seagal. Clint Eastwood.
What the hell.
I stood up tall, settled the wide brim hat on top of my head and strode up the steps into the bar.
Inside the main lobby I was getting a lot of wild looks from the staffers who knew me. The coat check girls’ eyes looked ready to pop out of their heads as I strolled past, tipping the brim politely as I did. Patrons made room for me as I passed by as did other security guards whom I didn’t recognize.
I barely glanced up the marble staircase. There were several Korean gentlemen in high end finery dangling women on their knees and enjoying sparkling beverages. My blood boiled as I walked by, but they could wait.
First things first.
Passing down the back hallway I slipped by patrons who assumed I was still security and eventually made my way up onto my usual perch. Front and centre stage above the dance floor, facing the main bar.
