by A. J. Summer
Veo’s face falls, but he nods his head and mumbles a “Yes, Runner” before he leaves, just as fast as earlier. I follow him all the way outside until he gets into a yellow taxi and drives off. I lock the front door, and my mind goes into sleep mode. “Let’s call it a night, boys,” I say. I lock the bag in the safe and switch off all the lights. No one else is expected tonight, and I want my own damn bed, these bunk beds suck.
Mike and Jonah grab their stuff, and Mike locks up the back door when we are all outside. The night air is cool and filled with various city noises. I’m still getting use to all the sounds occupying this haunted gambler’s paradise.
I’m glad we got the cabin a little way out of Maria’s Square. It’s unbelievable what the extra ten-minute drive can do for the scenery. Maria’s Square isn’t a huge town. With the exception of the few lights of the casino and the many stores lining the streets, it’s pretty drab. It’s bigger than Bailey, but it’s an emotionally cold place. Bailey was home. Bailey had heart. But take the time to drive through town, and on the other side of all that dullness, you’ll find nothing but nature…and blissful quiet.
“Should see a lot of customers tomorrow,” Mike says offhandedly.
Weekends are always busy at the casino, and that means a lot of customers at the loan house. People come to the Indigo and lose their money on Friday and borrow their same money back from the loan house on Saturday. Just to lose it all over again. A lovely little ride on the money merry-go-round, which leaves you with your ass on the pointy side of the unicorn’s head.
I walk over to the passenger side of the Chevy and wait for Mike to open the door.
“You guys go on ahead. I’ll see you at the cabin,” Jonah says while unlocking the driver side of the black SUV with the Indigo logo on.
Mike stops with his hand midway to the door and looks at Jonah thoughtfully. “It’s midnight, Jonah. She’s asleep. You can take a drive up there on Sunday.”
Jonah just laughs at Mike like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all day. So that’s why he was so happy when Veo showed up with the cash. He knew he’d be free to leave. He should just move Mary up here already. He’ll get a lot more sleep, and maybe he’ll even chill out a bit. Jonah rolls down the window and starts the SUV.
“I’ll be back in time to kick you two assholes out of bed,” he says on a smirk. And he will be. Jonah is always up first, even if he spends the night at Mary’s. That guy is restless as hell. Doesn’t like to be kept inside either. Sometimes I think he’ll go crazy if he doesn’t play with his knife or kick someone to death on the PlayStation.
Mike shakes his head and climbs into the Chevy. He leans over and unlocks my door. Heavy beats fill the car from the radio as I buckle myself in. Mike turns the radio even louder and steers us home. Ten minutes later, Mike reaches over and turns the music down.
“You wanna go grab a beer?” he asks when we get to the turn-off leading to the Apple.
I really don’t. I just want to get into bed. “Nah, I’m beat,” I say, staring out the window.
“Come on, Runner, you are like a prune, man, all dried up. When was the last time you had some fun?” he asks hopefully. I scoff at his words. Fun? I don’t even know the meaning of the word. So I don’t even bother answering him.
“You made me do this,” he says as he yanks the wheels hard to the left and U-turns us back toward the Apple.
“What are you doing?” I ask, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
“I dare you to have some fun, just do something crazy,” he says with a look I don’t trust. “I dare you,” he says again. What are we? Thirteen? But I laugh anyway.
“Our lives aren’t crazy enough?” I ask when he parks to the side of the Apple.
“Fun-crazy and scary-crazy are two very different things,” he says on a chuckle.
“So, what? Watching some old stripper ride her g-string on a Thursday night is fun-crazy?” I ask, eyeing the few cars in the lot.
“Nah, you’ll find something to do. I’m not leaving this spot until you do,” he says, stuffing the Chevy keys into his jeans pocket. I shoot him a withering look, and he just snorts at it. Asshole knows I won’t wrestle those keys from his pocket.
I huff my tired ass out of the car and into the dim parking lot. The place is dead. What the hell am I suppose to do? Bring back a stripper’s bra or something? “What am I even suppose to do?” I ask him through the window. But Mike pushes the electronic lock button, and the window rolls up smoothly. The smug bastard grins at me and shoos me forward.
I walk slowly toward the front door. Halfway there a guy and two of his buddies exit the Apple. It looks like they had one hell of a party. The first guy walks over to the wall and leans against it while struggling with his fly.
“Adam, come on,” his buddy calls from the side of a car while the other tries to unlock it. “Hold on a second!” Adam shouts back. This guy is drunk off his feet. He stumbles and curses loudly. I can’t help but laugh at him as he tries to keep himself from taking a whiz on his shoes. Mike wants fun, right? Might as well have a laugh while I’m at it. It’s better than what’s inside the Apple.
“Hey, Adam!” I call from a few feet away. He grumbles something I can’t hear, so I step closer.
“Hey, Adam?” I call again.
“Hang on a second,” he says, trying to work his fly again. “Oh, hey,” he says when he sees me. His eyes are bleary and out of focus. “Do I know you?” he asks, stumbling forward. “No, I was just wondering if you had some lip balm,” I say, struggling to keep a straight face. Adam pats his pockets and then scrunches his face up. “What?” he asks, looking so fucking confused that I burst out laughing. “You know, lip balm? So you can gloss up before you kiss my ass,” I say still laughing. I hear Mike snicker behind me, and I turn around to see him laughing into his hand.
“What did you sh-shay?” Adam slurs. He takes two sloppy steps forward. “Never mind, dude. You should go sleep it off,” I say quickly when his two friends round the corner. I was just fucking with Adam, not picking a fight. Mike wanted fun, right?
“Hey, Adam, are these guys giving you shit?” the bigger of the two asks. “Guy said something about kissing his ash. Ass,” Adam slurs. Big guy starts walking toward me, and Mike laughs harder. Some friend he is. That’s my cue to leave.
Twack-Twack-Twack. I recognize the sound of the little firecrackers that Mike and Jonah use to chase away the kids who deal weed on the corner of loan house, immediately. Poor Adam and his buddies don’t. They drop like flies to the tarmac and cover their heads. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Adam whimpers loudly.
“Are you crazy!” I shout at Mike as I run to the Chevy and jump in. “Fun, Runner,” he says between chuckles as he speeds away. That was kind of funny. And I can’t help laughing with him.
“Your turn,” I say when I can finally take a breath. “Okay.” he pulls the Chevy over. “You drive.” Mike climbs out and walks over to the passenger side. “This isn’t going to get us killed, is it? Or locked up?” Neither are on my list of things to do tonight. And you never know with Mike. “Stop being such a pussy. Drive to Wooky,” he says.
I don’t ask why, because I don’t want to be called a pussy again. Mike takes a joint out of the glove box and start unrolling it. “Got it off one of those kids at the loan house,” he says on a shrug. He takes a firecracker and rolls it up into the joint. Oh shit. “Are you for real?” I ask. The idiot is going to get us killed.
“There’s his house. Pull over,” Mike says on a grin. I pull the Chevy over, and Mike walks around to the driver side. “Stop looking at me like that,” he says dryly. I climb over the seats and settle in the passenger side.
Wooky is a dealer we met when we still did drops for Pete. He runs a small operation from his house. Mostly weed. I haven’t seen him in months. He is a cool guy, but some people think that means they can run one over on him. One of his deliveries disappeared, and we found it. One more friend in the world. I hope Mike’s little prank does
n’t ruin that.
Mike pulls up in front of Wooky’s house. There’s a bunch of people sitting in the front yard. Wooky included. He walks over to the Chevy when he sees us. Mike elbows me in the ribs and winks at me.
I almost start laughing, but Wooky sticks his head into Mike’s window, and I clamp my lips shut. “Ayre, brothas. How ya been doin’?” he asks, smiling big and wide. His dreads bop up and down with the movement of his head. “Wooky! Good brother,” Mike says, grabbing his hand. Wooky looks at me and my lips twitch. “Good,” I mumble, ducking my head. “What ya boys doin’ in ma neighborhood,” Wooky ask, still smiling. I guess the ganja keeps him happy. “I found this on one of the kids. Can you tell me who the dealer is?” Mike asks, handing Wooky the joint. Oh shit! This is going to end badly.
“Sure, brotha,” Wooky says, taking the joint. He squints at it in the dim light of the street lamp. Then he brings it up to his nose and smells it. He puts the flat end of the joint into his mouth and sucks on it. He pauses. Then he takes a box of matches out of his red, yellow, and green shirt pocket. He lights the joint and Mike snickers. I suck my lips in and bite down hard to keep the laughter inside. Another deep drag and TWACK! The firecracker explodes.
Mike looks at Wooky. Wooky looks at Mike. Wooky looks at me. His eyebrows are gone, and his dreads have little pieces of weed and Rizzla in it. I try to keep it in but it won’t stay down, and finally I just explode. My laughter roars out into the night air, and Mike slams his foot down onto the gas. The Chevy jolts forward and my body jerks hard against the seatbelt, but still I keep laughing. I’m laughing so hard that I’m not even making a sound anymore. It’s just hollow gasps escaping my empty lungs. Fuck, that was funny. Wooky’s face was priceless! Mike is still laughing and is having trouble controlling the Chevy, his body is shaking that hard.
Mike’s phone rings, and he presses the button to connect through the car. “Mikey boy, you got me,” Wooky says over the radio. Mike wipes the tears from his eyes. He tries to say something but ends up laughing even more. And then Wooky is laughing with us. “You boy’s take care now,” he says before the line goes dead. I think we can expect a prank from Wooky. I’ll be taking extra care of locking my door when I go to bed. I prefer my eyebrows and hair intact.
We pull up to the cabin, and I notice the light is still on. That means Ana is still awake, and I’m not in the mood for her or her bullshit. I’d trade her for Mary anytime. Too bad Mike didn’t have anywhere to drop her off after the little shoot out with Danny Migelli. I’m just glad she’s not my ex. How did they even date? Once, he even threatened to put her in a crate and ship her the five thousand miles to her mother.
I climb out of the Chevy and walk up the driveway slowly. We should build a back door, that way I wouldn’t have to see her. Ana opens the front door in nothing but her panties and a white tank top. Mike curses behind me.
“Ana,” I say with as much control as I can summon right now. She’s blocking the door. I won’t physically remove her but I’m tempted, and Mike just looks sick of her shit. The thing is, she knows stuff. Not a lot, just enough information to keep her out of that damn crate. She doesn’t know I’m Kyle, but she was there with the deal we had with Danny Migelli. The deal that resulted in our deaths, and that puts her in prime position for bargaining herself a place to sleep, because, surprise, we aren’t dead.
“Runner,” she purrs, running a finger down my chest. She’s doing this to get a reaction out of me. I don’t smell any alcohol on her breath, but her eyes are watery and rimmed in red. I take a step back, and Mike pushes past me and moves her out of the way. “What the fuck, Mike. You don’t have to be so rough,” she scolds hotly.
“You don’t have to be so trashy. Get some clothes on. Nobody here wants to see,” he gestures towards her and then says, “that.” Meaning all of her in her surprisingly virginal cotton underwear. Mike walks towards the fridge and grabs a beer. He is apparently done with this conversation. He holds one up for me and I take it.
“Fuck you!” Ana screeches and hauls a lamp from the table at him. The lamp flies between Mike and myself and crashes against the kitchen cupboard. Pieces of cheap ceramic fall with a clinking sound at my feet. Fucking psycho. “You! Clean that shit up,” I snap at her, slamming my beer down hard enough to make it foam and spill over onto the kitchen island. I stalk past her to my room, and she cowers away from me. That makes me feel like a big fricking asshole. I’d never hurt her even if she drives me manic. I’d never hurt any woman.
Once the door to my room is shut, I sag against it, grabbing my hair, my ass thudding loudly as it hits the floor. I am a total asshole for yelling at her like that. But who the hell hauls lamps at people’s faces? Apparently that crazy chick residing in our lounge.
DAY TWO
*
Jenna is standing by the edge of the water; she’s looking up at me. I’m standing on the ledge of that damn cliff. The same cliff that I used to fake my death. But instead of the unsure look on her face that she had the day I jumped, she is glaring at me. She looks downright pissed off. I know what happens next. I’ve had this nightmare a hundred times. And no matter how many times I’ve tried to wake myself up, it’s useless. My brain subjects me to see this torture through until the very end.
I watch helplessly as Aiden walks up to Jenna and wraps his bronzed I’m-too-good-to-be-true arm around her waist. He turns her in the opposite direction, and Jenna doesn’t even look back. Not even when the lifeless body, complete with dripping bullet hole, of Danny Migelli appears behind me and pushes me off the cliff. I fall screaming toward the blue abyss.
I jerk up straight, gasping and wheezing for air just before I hit the water. Every time, the same dream, every damn time.
“Shit,” I groan, falling back onto my pillow. My hair is drenched in sweat and sticking to my forehead. My heart slowly comes down from the marathon run it’s competing in, and I close my eyes, breathing in and out slowly.
“Come on, Mike. Take me with you. I haven’t been to Bailey in months, I want to see Talon,” Ana pleads.
Talon’s face briefly flashes before my eyes. Her own eyes closed in bliss, her skin flushed with soft tinges of pink, absolutely beautiful. But then something else hits me and saves me from the dangerous path my thoughts are leading me down. Ana’s voice. She is speaking in the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard her use. God, she almost sounds normal. She must really be sick of being cooped up here all day. The voices are coming from the direction of the kitchen, and I can hear a spoon clanging to the inside of a cup. Coffee. I lift my lazy ass out of bed and pull on my jeans. Then I follow the sounds to the kitchen.
“Morning, sunshine,” Mike teases me like the asshole he is.
“Morning,” I greet back, and just to twist his nipples a little further I say: “You should take her with you.” I’m not really a morning person, they all know that. Keep the conversation low until I have at least half a cup of coffee down my throat.
Mike’s eyes go big and then narrow down to tiny little slits as the frown descends on his face. “Yay! Thanks, Runner!” Ana squeals happily while running over to me. She slaps a big wet kiss on my cheek, which I immediately wipe off with the dish rag on the table. Ana scowls at me, but I just shrug. I don’t know where those lips were last.
“Fine, but if you make me regret this, I swear I’ll ship you to your mother. In a crate. Fuck knows what is so special about this damn garage. Everytime I have to go into Bailey and to Ray’s garage, you want to go with. And don’t pretend it’s because Talon is in Bailey. That’s bullshit. But I’ll pretend to believe you. Phone Talon and tell her to meet you at Ray’s. You can have your little chat right there in the parking lot. I’m not letting your ass wander the town and then I have to look for you when I’m done. The less time I spend in Bailey the better. The less time any of us spend in Bailey, the damn better,” Mike grumbles before he grabs his keys.
“Whatever,” Ana snorts. She grabs her bag and follows him to the door.
I bet they are going to argue all the way to Bailey. Mike has been bitching about this trip since last week. It seems Mike was in such a rush to leave Bailey last week after he had the Chevy serviced that he left his service booklet at Ray’s garage. None of us like to go back to Bailey, back to the town of what use to be. Back to the town where I committed murder.
I take my coffee with me to the shower. I have a lot of paperwork to do today. And with Mike gone, Jonah will have to open the loan house. Just then Jonah sticks his head out into the passage, “Are they gone?” he whispers. I laugh and nod when the Chevy’s engine kicks over. “Thanks, can’t like that woman,” he says, grabbing his keys and heading out the door.
“Neither can I,” I mumble. But just four walls hear me.
* * *
My office at the casino is a bit pretentious. Dark wood furniture against light blue walls with indigo trim and orange decor. It used to be all white, but when I saw the Indigo’s interior I decided it needed a serious do-over. Not a make over, that’s something a chick would say. A do-over…like my life. I just couldn’t do the all-white thing without adding some padding to the walls and some strait jackets to match. So I called up Reno and told him to get a decorator in here. And this is what I ended up with. I just didn’t have the heart to tell the poor girl I felt it was a bit too much. She was still young, a family friend of Reno’s, and he decided to give her a shot. So orange and indigo it stayed.
I walk over to my big window, my favorite part of my office. From here I can see the entire front court and parking lot of the casino. Including the entrance to the hotel. There aren’t a lot of cars around for 10:00 in the morning. Most of the all-nighters have gone home, and the staff are either changing shift or on their break.
