by Mark Tufo
Mike slapped Juicy’s hand away when he went to feel his chest.
“Plus, heard you killed a D Streeter. You’re already a dead man. There’s money on your head. If not for Pembroke saying so, I’d be turning you in. That’s as far as your relationship with him is going to go.”
“How can you already know that? It wasn’t more than twenty minutes ago.”
“This is the streets, man. Pembroke knew before you pulled that trigger. Now get fucking lost.”
“Fuck you, Juicy. Let me in.”
Mike froze when he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press up against his temple. “The beauty of the bounty is they don’t give a shit if you’re dead or alive. I always thought you were a little asshole, so this won’t interrupt my sleep at all.”
“I would think the wet pillow would,” Mike said as he raised his hands.
“That’s a nice shotgun you got there. I think I’ll take it.” Mike briefly entertained the thought of crushing his elbow into the already crooked nose of Juicy, but his odds of success were even less than those of getting out of the city without Pembroke’s help.
“That’s enough.” Pembroke had come out of the doorway. He was dressed in a heavy cotton suit, white with black pinstripes, and somehow in the heat of the day he still looked as cool as a cucumber. Come to think of it, Mike could not ever remember a day he’d seen the man sweat.
“Pembroke.” Mike swatted Juicy’s gun out of the way.
“You’ve put me in a delicate situation coming here, Mike.”
“I’m just trying to get out of town.”
“Where’s the cop?” Pembroke lit a cigarette and took a long pull.
“Is my show on fucking TV?”
“I asked you a question, Mike.”
Mike could verbally spar with Tynes, Juicy, and maybe even a few of the D Streeters, but not Pembroke, never Pembroke. If you were square with him and didn’t try to take a little off the top, you were fine and under his umbrella. Run afoul, and there were no second chances.
Mike wanted to lie and say he ditched him, but he was already on thin ice and he had little doubt Pembroke already had a man watching Tynes over on the street.
“I told him to wait for me at Chin’s.”
“What’s he waiting for?” Pembroke seemed more interested with the cherry at the end of his cigarette than with the man before him. Mike knew that look. He’d seen enough scumbags being questioned to know that the disinterest Pembroke showed was an act.
“I was hoping to get a car. I wanted to get him back to his station and me out of town.”
“His station? What’s that cop to you?”
“Really nothing, except a pain in the ass. He’s hauled me in a few times, and this time he chased me halfway around the city before he caught me and threw my ass in jail.”
“That man caught you?”
“I started talking shit to him on the opposite side of a chain link fence, and he fucking tased me. I didn’t figure he’d be able to get his ass over the fence. I was wrong.”
“Help me to understand where in that explanation you feel the need to help him?”
“I don’t know; he has a wife. He cares about my well-being for some reason.”
“Aw, ain’t that nice, the cop is sweet for Mike,” Juicy sneered.
Mike did his best to ignore him. It was that or blow his guts out. He didn’t think Pembroke would appreciate the latter.
“We wrecked his cruiser. A yellow cab crushed it like a tin can. I pulled him out before the car could burn.”
“Why?”
Mike was getting sick of the twenty questions, but if he wanted any hope of help, he’d keep answering. And as long as Pembroke kept asking, that meant he was still interested. It was when he stopped asking that he’d made up his mind and bodies ended up in rivers.
“A lifetime ago, me and two of my friends were in a car accident. I got my buddy out of the back seat, but my best friend Paul, he was wedged in behind the steering wheel. That’s how I got these,” he said as he held up his scarred hands. “I tried to get him out; he fucking burned right in front of me. He looked at me the entire time, and I swear he was accusing me of not trying hard enough. I just couldn’t stand to let another person die that way.”
Pembroke did not reply to the explanation. “The D Streeters are saying you waylaid them. I know you’re not the pointiest stick, but you’re not a cue ball either. What happened?”
“I got the cop out of the car and Y-Dog came up on us with two of his friends. They wanted to kill the cop and take the guns. I’d already risked my life once to save his ass. In for a dime, in for a death.”
“I’m going to miss you, Mike. I’ve got to admit, I was very fond of you.” He nodded to Juicy.
“Wait, wait,” Mike said, but the door was already closing.
“You lucky fuck. I thought for sure he was going to kill you.” Juicy nodded to someone in the second story of the building. Within twenty seconds, a late model Toyota pulled up. “You come back here, and Pembroke gave me the green light to kill you.”
“You got all that from a nod? I have got to learn sign-language.”
“You don’t deserve it, and I have no idea what the boss sees in you, but there’s some money and guns in the trunk. You’re just lucky he hates D Streeters more than you.”
Mike flipped Juicy off as he got in the car. For a moment, he considered just taking off. He knew it was within Tynes’ DNA to still try to take him in.
“Fuck, I hate having a conscience.” He spun the wheel around and headed back to where he’d left the cop. Tynes was nervously pacing up and down the sidewalk, scanning the surrounding area while also hitting redial numerous times.
Mike pulled up. “Want a lift?”
Tynes looked panicked. He peered through the open window. “I can’t get a hold of my wife.”
“Want me to drop you off at your house?” Mike figured if the cop was busy being worried about his spouse, he would be less inclined to try to arrest him.
“She’s not there.”
“Work then?”
“She’s in Florida.”
“Sorry man, this bus isn’t going that far. I’ll get you to your house, and you can go catch a flight or something, then we’re through.”
“Mike.”
“Don’t. Don’t fucking start that shit. If you’re going to try and haul me in, I’m leaving now. Otherwise get the fuck in, and I’ll take you where you need to go.”
“I was going to say thank you.”
“Oh, um, well then, get in.”
“I figured you’d be halfway to Boston by now; rioting seems to be your kind of thing.”
“I’d like to say I didn’t think about it but you’d know I was lying. I heard news of people going nuts down there, not even terrorists. Just stupid people doing stupid things.”
Tynes actually let out a small laugh. “If you just take me to my house, we’re square. I’ll tell the judge you escaped in the wreck but not before saving my life.”
“Square? I don’t think so. I’ve saved your life twice; by Japanese reckoning, the rest of your sorry time on earth is forfeit to me. But if it keeps you from arresting me, then fine. Where do you live?”
“Greenwich Village.”
“Greenwich Village? Are you fucking kidding me? On a cop’s salary? And you’re giving me shit for being a petty criminal? The sheer number of takes you must be on has to be staggering.”
“My wife is a doctor, asshole.”
“Oh, well that makes more sense. So she’s your sugar mama? Why aren’t you just cruising on the couch watching Gilmore Girls reruns or some shit?”
“Do I look like a Gilmore Girls fan to you?”
Mike looked over quickly. “Maybe.” As Mike drove, he could not shake the feeling of a huge, nervous expectancy hanging over the city. At first, he thought it might be his own feelings overlaying his perception, until Tynes spoke.
“Something’s not right. I’ve got th
at same feeling I had that day right before the Towers were struck.”
“You psychic?”
“No, nothing like that. I didn’t know what was going to happen or how severe. I just had this sense in my gut, like I’d eaten something that didn’t agree with me. I was ten years old. I had no idea what was going on, not until the next morning, when I saw the smoke. When I turned on the television, it hit me—I knew that was what I’d been expecting. It’s like that again, and this time it’s much worse. I don’t think New York is going to be such a good place to be in the next few days.”
“Shouldn’t traffic be worse?” There were cars on the road, but Mike was making good time on freeways that were generally car choked nearly twenty-four hours a day.
“Nuclear bomb detonated on American soil? I’m thinking most people aren’t going to work anymore. Somehow minimum wage means less in a rising crisis.”
They spoke little as they traveled. Tynes faithfully kept hitting redial.
“Fuck, that’s it. My phone is dead.”
“Here, take this one.” Mike grabbed a phone from the center console. Pembroke was nothing if not thorough.
“Is it stolen?”
“Does it matter? It has a charge.”
Tynes dialed in the number. There was a pause. “Linda? Linda is that you? Yeah, my phone died. I know, I know. I should carry an extra battery. Are you all right?” Mike could hear Linda’s animated responses and could almost feel the tension leave Tynes’ body. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m heading home, going to catch a flight. I’m hoping to be down there tomorrow. New York is starting to fall apart at the edges.”
Mike humphed in agreement with that assessment. Mike tried his best to block out the rest of the conversation as it began to revolve around how much they loved and missed each other.
“Come on man, you’re going to get that all over the phone.”
“No one, honey, just a guy I borrowed a phone from.”
Mike mouthed, “No one?” then flipped Tynes off.
“Thank you,” he said a couple of minutes after he handed the phone back.
“She’s all right?”
“She’s fine. She’s at her mother’s house along with two of her brothers. Whew.” He sat back and expelled a big breath.
“This is why I don’t want to get married. Nothing but constant worry.”
“Who has your back then?”
Mike remained silent. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to what Mike could only consider a mini-mansion. “Are you shitting me?”
“Mike, I can’t thank you enough, but I don’t ever want to see you again,” Tynes said as he stepped out of the car.
“Can I see your place?”
“No.”
“At great personal risk, I took you to your house.”
“You now know where I live, and now you know I’m leaving. That was a miscalculation on my part, but I sure as shit am not going to let you get an inventory of my belongings.”
“Oh...that cut me deep, officer. I’m not going to rob you,” Mike said as he stepped out. “Anyway, I really need to take a dump. Probably got gold-plated toilets. I need to see that. What about a bidet? You got one of those fancy toilets that wash your ass?” Mike passed him by and waited on the wide porch for Tynes to catch up.
“Look away,” he said before he entered a code into the door locking mechanism.
“I have a machine that can bypass that lock in under eight seconds.”
“Comforting. Go to the bathroom and then get out. I’m going to pack.”
“Whoa,” Mike said as he entered into the foyer and saw the vaulted ceiling. He looked upon the large, curved stairway that had prints along the wall that he had a fair idea were not reproductions.
“Don’t make me regret letting you in. Go straight down the hallway, and the second door on the left is the bathroom. Shut the damn door when you leave.” Tynes headed for the staircase.
Mike heard the telltale sound of a shower turning on as he bypassed the bathroom and went right for the kitchen. “Bingo,” he said when he opened the refrigerator.
A half hour later, a clean, dressed, and baggage-laden Tynes came down the stairs. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”
Mike was sitting on the couch, a large salami sandwich in one hand and a cold beer in the other. A spilled out bag of chips covered the coffee table.
“I was hungry, man. You at least owed me lunch. Running from gangbangers burns a lot of calories.”
“My wife doesn’t even let me eat on that couch. If she caught you, we’d both get kicked out.” A bead of sweat formed on his forehead as he watched a fat dollop of mustard fall on the heirloom rose brushed suede upholstery.“Dude, I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.” Mike turned with a serious expression. One Tynes wasn’t used to seeing on the other’s face.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s Yellowstone, man. They’re talking about millions that died, an oncoming ice age, volcanoes and all that shit. They’re saying there’s too much ash in the airstream now; everything’s gonna die like the dinosaurs. All air traffic has been halted due to the danger of the engines getting clogged. Man, don’t you watch the news? I got more information being inside than you got at your big ass house.”
Tynes dropped his bags. “This better not be some kind of joke.” He strode into the living room.
“Who the fuck jokes about that kind of thing?”
Tynes sat down heavily on the couch to watch the news. He grabbed the beer out of Mike’s hand, took a heavy pull of the cold liquid, and then attempted to hand it back.
“Nah man, you keep it, it’s got cop germs on it now. I don’t want to catch any goodie-two-shoes shit.” He rose to get himself another bottle.
Tynes could suddenly not care less. The ticker on the bottom told him everything Mike had just relayed while the pretty reporter spouted on about the national crisis and that the president was issuing a curfew during this state of emergency. He was recalling all the troops on foreign soil and activating every National Guardsman during these trying times. They showed clips of the president’s speech, and while his words promised a return to normalcy as soon as possible, his mannerisms clearly showed a man on the edge of a panic attack.
The two men sat there another hour, Mike absently taking bites from his sandwich until it was finished. They did not say a word until the pundits just began to repeat themselves.
“What now?” Mike asked.
“You leave, and I drive to Florida.”
“Did you not just see what I saw?”
“I don’t care. I’m a cop; they’ll let me through the blockades.”
“Yeah sure, because the Jersey Guard is going to give a rat’s toot about a New York cop.”
“I’ll get through.”
“I need a place to crash.”
“Yeah, so? Oh no, not here.”
“I can’t get home until they lift the travel ban. I go back on the streets, I’m a dead man.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“There is no way you are forgetting I’m a target because I saved your ass.”
“I could have defended myself.”
“You weren’t even awake. What were you going to do, drool them to death? Who the hell are you kidding?”
“Mike...can I trust you?”
“Sure.”
“No, man, look me in the eyes. Are you a decent person at the core?”
Mike shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the cop’s gaze.
“Yeah man, I think I am. If I give my word, it still carries weight no matter the things I’ve done.”
“I’m leaving. I have got to be with my wife. You stay here, you keep an eye on my place. When you can go, go. I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
“Got an Xbox?”
“Mike.”
“PS4?”
Tynes turned.
“
Are you one of those Wii people? I mean, that’s cool. People that have no gamer skills still have to play with something besides their dicks. What do you have? Kid bowling or something?”
“You screw up my kill ratio on Halo, and I don’t give a shit what I said. I will hunt you down.”
“Now we’re talking. Gonna enjoy it here. Maybe I’ll get that bidet installed while you’re gone.”
“I’m still here, I can still kick you out.”
“It’s all good, man. I’m just screwing around. I joke when I’m scared shitless. I’ll take care of this place like it wasn’t mine. That’s a good thing, I promise.”
Tynes grabbed his bags and had one foot out the door.
“Tynes, man.”
The cop turned.
“Good luck. I hope you get to be with your wife.”
Tynes nodded and pulled the door shut.
“Fuck, I thought he’d never leave. I’m still hungry.” Mike headed for the fridge.
The door opened back up. “Where you going?”
“What, man? By the time you get back, your food will be spoiled. I’m just going to do my part to keep your fridge from stinking.”
“One more thing.”
“Yes, Dad?”
“There’s a stray that comes around every so often. Could you leave him out some food?”
“The cop has a heart, who would have thunk it? Is he a big dog?”
“Who said anything about a dog?”
“Rabbit? Bear? Marsupial?”
“It’s a cat.”
“Oh, fuck no.”
“What?”
“I hate cats, man. Gatekeepers to the underworld is my understanding of the little vermin.”
“You feed him, or I’ll let the D Streeters know where they can find you.”
“You’re an asshole. Consider it done, but me and the little pile of pestilence are not going to become chummy. I’m not petting the damn thing.”
“Don’t worry, he won’t let you.”
“So wait. You keep feeding this thing, and he won’t even let you say hi? Typical cat, take, take, take then bite.”
“Mike.”
“I told you I’d take care of the thing. Go, man, stay out of harm’s way. I have a huge sandwich to go make, probably going to finish your beers off as well.”
