“No, of course not. We’ve been expecting you.”
When she stepped aside to let me in, I realized the men’s shirt she wore was an Ed Hardy t-shirt.
“Where’s Lester?” I asked.
A voice came from behind me. “Right here.”
I turned toward the doorway of one of the guest bedrooms. Lester came out of the shadows, his skinny jeans tight on his skinny legs, the top button undone. He wore no shirt or shoes and there was a gauze bandage on his right arm. Drops of fresh blood shone through the cotton.
I flashed back to what Sage had said about she and her cousin getting into trouble together even at an early age, and how her parents had ostracized her for being a sex fiend. A stirring nausea hit me and I had to fight to keep my face from going sour. It was hypocritical of me to be disgusted by potential incest, being a necrophiliac and all, but the thought of these kissing cousins made my skin crawl. I also felt that if they really had been screwing, then Sage had cheated on me. The possibility—which I was still trying to deny—made me wonder how many other men she was involved with, if I was the only one she was fucking in a bowl of human corpse soup.
“Got a good one set up for you two,” Lester said. “A real good deal all around.”
Sage turned on the ceiling fan’s lights, revealing the sweat on Lester’s high forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like bong water. He pulled a wrinkled cigarette from his jeans. It was in there loose, no pack.
“Yeah,” I said. “Listen, about the job—”
“Alright, here’s the fuckin’ lighter,” Lester said to himself. It had been caught on the fabric of his outturned pocket. “Fuckin’ thing.”
Sage put her hands on my left shoulder, leaning on me. “This is a big cleanup, Mike. A bad spill at some warehouse in Derby. Some kind of mob war thing.”
Lester snickered through a haze of smoke. “A big guinea gun fight. Some of our guys, some of theirs. Fuckin’ eighteen stiffs in all, shot fulla more holes than Bonnie and Clyde. Looks like Viet-fuckin’-nam in there. Ya might need extra chemicals or whatever. You’ll be well compensated, of course.” He moved past me, heading toward the bathroom. “I’m just gonna get cleaned up, then we can roll.”
I shook my head. “No. Hold on.”
Lester turned around to face me. “S’up?”
Though bloodshot, his eyes were so deep brown they appeared black in the hushed light. They were a hired killer’s eyes, baring a darkness that could not be faked. Even when he was in a jovial mood—stoned and probably having just fucked his cousin—his eyes were reptilian, soulless.
Or maybe I was just chicken shit.
I did my best to stand firm. “Listen, man. I’ve been wanting to tell you and Sage something.”
I had their full attention now, but wasn’t sure I wanted it. It would’ve been nice to just be able to say it in passing while they were busy doing other things, so they could give me a “yeah, sure whatever” before they had time to process what I’d said.
“What is it, Mike?” Sage asked, shifting her weight to the other leg, accidentally revealing the tuft of pubic hair at the tip of her downward triangle.
So she is naked under there.
I figured it would be best to just get it out rather than stammer. “I’m bowing out.”
Sage blinked. “What?”
Lester took a slow drag off his cigarette, his eyes as lifeless as any of the corpses I’d seen. I couldn’t look straight at them.
“I’m retiring,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I have a family to think about. This whole situation has gone farther than I can handle. It’s just too dangerous.”
“It’s okay to get nervous,” Sage said. “We all do. But you don’t have to worry. This is a big organization, Mike. The local police aren’t going to intervene.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“Because we pay ‘em,” Lester said. “Just about the whole precinct is in our pocket.”
“Just about?” I asked. “That means some of them aren’t. Some are clean cops who want to take down criminals.”
Sage shrugged. “I keep telling you: Lester wouldn’t get me involved in anything dangerous. If I go to prison, I’m out of my father’s will. I’ll lose everything.”
“Then why do this?” I asked. “Just for sexual pleasure?” I noticed her tugging on the bottom of the shirt to cover her shame. “You may have some of the police paid off but eventually somebody is going to come after you, the feds or the DA or somebody.”
Lester chortled. “You’ve been watchin’ too many movies, pal. In real life, everybody’s got a price, and everybody’s on the take. Now stop bein’ a pussy and let’s get a move on.”
“You’re not listening. I am done with this, okay?”
He puffed smoke in my direction. “Nah, man. It’s not okay.”
“Huh?”
“You hard of hearing all of a sudden? I said it ain’t okay for you to just back out. Once you’re in, you’re in. The Endrizzis don’t like people quittin’ on them. Looks too suspicious. Frankly, I agree with ‘em.”
I put up my hands in a passive manner. “Whoa, hold on. There’s nothing to be suspicious about. I’m telling you straight—I just want to do what’s best for my family. That’s all.”
I looked to Sage as if she could help me, but she was staring at the floor. This was between Lester and me. She wanted none of it. I flinched against my will when he put his hand on my shoulder.
“Mr. Mike, I’m gonna cut you some slack ‘cause you’ve done good work up until now, and Sage has vouched for ya. So I’m not gonna withhold payment on this job as punishment for what you’re sayin’, but you’d better stop sayin’ it right now. See, you’re in too deep with me to be set free. You know too much—little compared to the big picture, yeah, but still too fuckin’ much. I’ll be doin’ ya a big favor not tellin’ the Endrizzis about this. You better be damn thankful.”
“Okay, I am but—”
He pointed two fingers in my face, still holding the cigarette. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth. I’m gonna get cleaned up here. Get in your fuckin’ van and wait to follow me out. We’re goin’ to the site, Mike. Ya got that? We’re fuckin’ goin’.”
I recoiled. I’d always told my girls that it was important to stand up for yourself, that you shouldn’t back down from bullies. Now I realized how hard it was to take that advice.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
There had to be a way out.
I couldn’t go on cleaning up mafia hits for the rest of my pathetic life. This was a dead end, a death sentence. Not only was there the threat of prison, but now there was Lester’s claim that I knew too much. At what point would these gangsters think I knew way too much and had to be disposed of? It seemed inevitable, especially now that I’d talked about leaving the syndicate. Lester said he wouldn’t mention my dissent to the bosses, but would he really keep them in the dark about a reluctant crewmember? At the very least he’d keep me in his sights. To him, a low-level criminal looking to get out of organized crime is a potential stool pigeon, a narc waiting for the right chance to squeal to save his own yellow ass. I’d stepped out on thin ice and cracks were spider-webbing beneath my feet.
Sage rode shotgun in the van as I followed behind Lester’s Trans Am, the taillights staring back at me like the red eyes of a demon. I kept thinking of waiting for him to take a left turn, then doing a hard right turn and gunning it, running like fuck and hopefully losing him before he could give chase. But that was no answer. He would find me no matter where I ran.
“You really shouldn’t worry so much,” Sage said. She’d dressed and was wrapped in a heavy down coat, gloves, and hat, her face the only flesh visible. It was pink from the cold, her nose wet. “Don’t rock the boat.”
“Looks like I don’t have a choice.”
She scoffed. “Haven’t I given you everything you wanted? Money, sex, companionship? You don’t have to be such a fucking dickhead.”
“How am
I a dickhead for wanting to play things safe? I have two little girls, Sage. I know you don’t want to hear it, but their names are Carmen and Fay, and they’re fifteen and eleven years old, for Christ’s sake. Don’t you think they deserve a father who’s on the straight and narrow, who isn’t at risk of going to prison or being shot in the back of the head every night?”
“You’re so melodramatic sometimes.”
“Are you fucking serious? I don’t see how my life could get any more dramatic than it is right now. It could have its own musical score by John-fucking-Williams and it still couldn’t be any more dramatic.”
“This gig gets you more money than you’d bring in doing anything else and you only have to work part-time hours. It also allows you to fuck a woman half your age. On top of that, sometimes you get access to some very willing girls.”
“Dead girls don’t count as willing. They sure as shit aren’t able to express consent.”
Sage laughed at me. “Now you sound like one of those dipshitty man-feminists. Would you like a pumpkin spice latte with your soapbox?”
“The point is—”
“The point is that if you hadn’t met me, you’d still be mopping up bloody turds for that loser Ryker, making chicken feed pay, and whacking off to internet porn like a schlub living in his gramma’s basement.”
“At least I don’t fuck my cousin.”
Her eyes flashed. “Who I fuck is my own business. We never agreed to be monogamous. Besides, I’ve been fucking Lester a hell of a lot longer than I’ve been fucking you. He took my cherry when I was twelve.”
“Twelve?”
I thought of Fay, who would be twelve in March. A mere second of imagining her with a boy on top of her, thrusting between her spread legs, made me want to kick throats and shatter teeth.
“Never said I was a saint,” Sage said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure I made it clear I was the farthest thing from one, right from the start.”
She looked out the window, her head turned away from me. I drove on.
The virtual ghost town of Derby was silent, the night black and frozen. Long abandoned industrial buildings sulked against the ashen night sky, giant tombstones of a once thriving community. Icicles hung from rain gutters and the wreaths on the lampposts were glazed with snow. I found myself wishing the van would hit a patch of black ice and spin into a wall, something to put me in the hospital so I wouldn’t have to clean up this massacre, but we made it to the warehouse safely. For the time being I was unharmed, though once I was finished with the job Lester might change that.
The warehouse was a gray building with sliding garage doors and a loading dock. It was directly off the Housatonic river, surrounded by a brown thicket and large piles of busted gravel that had been torn up and forgotten. On the other side of the water, dead trees lined the shore like sentries. I pulled in behind Lester and parked alongside the first garage door. I thought we would be pulling inside, but Lester turned off his engine and stepped out of the Trans Am. There was a single motion detector light above the doors, and when they came on the leather of Lester’s coat made him shine like a sex toy.
Leather Lester, I thought, now available for cousins everywhere.
I turned off the van and Sage got out first, hopping down, giddy at the promise of blood. I told myself I wouldn’t fuck her tonight and wondered if I at least had a choice in this part of the whole arrangement. Getting out, I unloaded cleaners and tools and sulked forward. Sage grabbed the mops and a bucket of solvent.
“Got everything ya need?” Lester asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re still stocked from the last job.”
“It’s all concrete in there. Bleach it down to the fuckin’ bone.”
Lester turned his back on us to put the key in the dead bolt, and I had an urge to knock him over the head with a hammer or baton, neither of which I had. I didn’t have anything that could serve as a weapon, and even if I did, he had a fucking gun. It would be suicide. I didn’t want to become just another body added to the mess. Sage would defile my remains and then Lester would give me a pair of cement shoes and toss me in the river and that would be that. I figured at least Fay would miss me.
The door came up and Lester hit the lights. The warehouse was one wide-open space with high ceilings. It must have been an old newspaper facility or some other shipping bay. The place was a sea of red. The bodies had already been removed, which was a plus. It meant less temptation on my part (though I doubted there would have been any female gangsters involved in the shootout, a trophy girlfriend or prostitute could have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it was unlikely). There was little flesh and sinew, no intestines were suspended from the ceiling or anything, but this had truly been a bloodbath. I hoped the warehouse had a source of running water and a hose with a jet adapter. Usually Sage would want to roll naked in this blood deluge, but it was colder than a penguin’s nutsack inside the warehouse, so I was counting on that to deter her from doing so.
“Alright,” said Lester. “Get started. I’ve gotta run somewhere but I’ll be back in less than an hour to check in with ya.” He smirked at me. “Hang a sock in the window if you’re, ya know, attackin’ the pink fortress.”
Sage rolled her eyes but I didn’t say anything. I was just relieved he was going away for a while. It would give me a chance to try and reason with her without Lester throwing his muscle into the argument. When he left he pulled down the garage door behind him and I grit my teeth when I heard the lock snap into place. I was stuck here.
“Attacking the pink fortress?” Sage repeated. “That’s terrible.”
“It’s better than batter-dipping the corn dog or making feet to go with them baby shoes.”
She chuckled. “I don’t know. I kind of like the baby shoes one. Not that I’d ever want kids. Last thing I need is some screaming, shitting, money-sucking little leech.”
“Yeah, I never saw you as the maternal type.”
“Not a single nurturing bone in my body.” We listened as Lester’s Trans Am pulled through the loose gravel of the open lot. “Sorry there’s no dead teenage pussy in here for you, big boy.”
I glowered. “Stop it.”
“Plenty of blood though. Kind of reminds me of our first time.”
“Yeah, well, wax nostalgic all you want, honey—I’m not doing you this time. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you promise. No way you’re getting fucked here tonight, at least not by me.”
The sly look she gave me reminded me how much she loved a challenge, especially when it was sexual in nature. But she didn’t press the matter; at least, not yet. She squatted over a particularly thick crimson pool and ran her fingertips through it, making the blood ripple like a lake.
I stood over her. “Talk to him for me, Sage.”
“Who?”
“Tom Fucking Brady. Who the hell do you think? Lester!”
“About what?”
“You know damn well what. I want out.”
She turned to face me. “Now why would I have that same conversation with him when he’s already given you his answer?”
“Maybe you can change his mind.”
She made a pfft sound. “You don’t know my cousin. He’s used to getting his way.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Keep insulting me, Mike. I’m sure that’ll get you what you want. Maybe you could throw in a little pissing and moaning too. I can’t speak for all women, but it really turns me into a tiger when a guy starts whining.”
I hugged myself. Christ, it was cold as shit. “You know Lester better than I do. There must be something we can do to change his mind and get me out of this, some kind of deal we can make or something.”
She stood. “What could you possibly offer him that he doesn’t already have?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can tell me.”
Sage came to me, her cheeks rosy from the chill. With her hat, coat, and gloves on she looked like she belonged on a ski slope i
nstead of standing in a garage full of blood and stale urine.
“Tell you what,” she said with a smile. “I’ll talk to Les, but first you’ve got to do something for me.”
I winced. She was cornering me again, willing me to participate in her despicable carnal escapades, just as she had from the beginning. Sexual extortion.
“No,” I said. “I told you I’m not fucking you.”
Her smile vanished. “Then you can talk to Les your-fucking-self.”
“Why are you being so hostile, huh? How can you be so mad at me for wanting to play things safe? You know I have two kids to—”
“Yeah, yeah. Fay and Caitlin, boo hoo.”
“Fay and Carmen.”
“Whatever. I guess I didn’t realize they were the only important ladies in your life. Guess I thought the things I wanted and needed meant something. My mistake.”
I blinked rapidly. Was she serious? Was she really turning this into a lover’s quarrel?
“Sage, come on. I’ve gone above and beyond to make you happy. I never wanted to have sex in human waste. That was all for you.”
“And now you’re quitting on me. So, I guess you don’t want to be with me anymore.”
I sighed. “Not like this, I don’t.”
“Exactly. You’re breaking up with me.” Her eyes misted. “You expect me to be happy to get dumped?”
She turned away so I wouldn’t see her tears. I shuffled back a step. I had not expected anything like this. Sage was getting emotional over me. Clearly my leaving stung her. This was new territory for me—not just Sage being emotional, but being the dumper instead of the dumpee. I’d never left a girl before. I was always the pathetic babbling mess at the end of every relationship. Even when it all had gone sour a long time ago, I still tried to make things work, telling myself the relationship could return to the passion and friendship of its early stages. Like all men, I’d always preferred familiarity and routine and would tolerate a great deal to avoid the agony of change. I wasn’t really sure how to go about letting Sage down easy.
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