by Hamel, B. B.
Instead, I settled for a partial truth.
“Richie’s dad passed two years ago, and his mom’s going through some stuff. So I’ve been helping out.”
She nodded. “That’s really good of you.”
“It’s what you do for family.”
“Well,” she said, smiling. I had the urge to grab her by the hips and find out how she tasted, but that might not be appropriate to do outside an elementary school. “I’ll let you get going, Liam.”
“Sure, and I’m sorry about the fight.”
“Just make sure you talk to him.”
I nodded. She smiled again and walked off, and I stared at her ass as she picked her way through the crowd, greeting parents and waving to kids. I shook my head softly, laughing to myself.
Of course Richie’s teacher would be a knockout.
I looked over at the kid and waved to him. He glanced up from his game, stood, and walked over. He fell into step with me as we headed down the block, walking back toward his mom’s house.
“Your teacher told me you got into a fight,” I said after a short silence.
“Yeah,” he said.
“What happened?”
“He called mom a whore, so I punched him.”
I stifled a laugh. “Kid, you can’t do that in class.”
He looked up at me. “You say I need to defend myself and my family.”
“Yeah, and you did the right thing. But don’t do it at school anymore.”
He shrugged and went back to playing his game. I looked out over the block, smiling to myself, imagining quiet Richie punching some asshole kid in the nose for insulting his pill-head mom.
Richie may have been a pain in the ass, but I was proud of the little shit.
I patted him on the back of the head, and he swatted at my hand, annoyed. I smiled, and we walked slowly together back toward his mom’s house.
The blood still felt like it was caked underneath my fingernails, but it wasn’t so bad. I could handle it. I would have to handle it, for my sake, for Richie’s sake, and even for his mom’s sake.
I had shit to take care of.
Chapter Two: Ellie
I was exhausted. I never thought I’d work with fourth graders, let alone fourth graders at an inner city public school. But there I was, day in and day out, and I couldn’t have been happier.
Life wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty close. I loved teaching, loved going to work every day, and loved my neighborhood. I had a great dog named Petey and a perfect best friend. No boyfriend, though. No real prospects, either. My job wasn’t exactly conducive to meeting new men, unless you considered the dads of my students.
There was one guy I was interested in, but it would never happen. He was the older brother of one of my students and was more or less the kid’s caretaker. He was gruff and sexy, all ripped muscles and cocky smiles, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate. Plus, there were rumors about him, rumors I didn’t want to get involved with.
Still, the way he looked at me. It was hard not to fantasize about him, at least a little bit. I had never met another guy remotely like him.
The day was warm, only a few weeks into the school year, and I felt good walking back to my apartment. That was another amazing perk: easy commute. I passed by Sarcone’s bakery, the smell of fresh bread overwhelming the sidewalk, and I breathed it deep. I moved south, away from the school, and turned right at the corner ahead.
I briefly wondered what Chelsea was up to but decided against calling her. Chelsea had just moved into my neighborhood and was also starting a new job at a law firm downtown. She wasn’t a lawyer, at least not yet, but she was working as a legal research assistant and was doing pretty well. I loved Chelsea more than anyone in my life. Even a few years ago, when things were pretty dark and I was struggling to make it through the day, she was there for me. When other people from those days slowly drifted away, she stuck around, no matter what. There was only one other person like that, but I hadn’t talked to him in a while.
Yawning, I climbed my stoop, unlocked the front door, and walked upstairs to my apartment. At the sound of my keys in the lock, I heard Petey run up to the door excitedly.
“Okay, Petey, don’t jump on me,” I said, pushing the door open.
Petey was a big black lab, three years old, and a rescue. When I got him from the pound, he was a skinny little thing, but over the last year I had rehabilitated him back into shape. He wagged his tail, excited to see me, sniffing my body and running around me.
“Hi, Petey,” I said, petting his shoulder and moving into the apartment. I pushed my door shut behind me and looked around, sighing.
My place was small but comfortable, the best I could afford on a new teacher’s salary. Clothes were draped over almost every surface, and I was thankful that Petey hadn’t ripped anything up. I felt bad leaving him alone all day, but I stopped by the apartment on my lunch break to take him for a quick walk. I ruffled the hair on his side and patted him as I walked farther into the room.
“Okay, Petey, feeling bored?” I asked him. He sniffed at me in response, running around in circles. He knew it was almost time for his nightly walk.
“Just a second, bud, let me get settled,” I said.
Living alone could be hard sometimes, but Petey made it better. Anyway, it definitely beat finding some strangers on Craigslist, or living with Chelsea. I loved her to death, but she was a slob, and that said a lot coming from me. Plus, she was allergic to dogs, and I couldn’t imagine living without Petey.
I dropped my bag on the couch and walked into the small bedroom, Petey nipping at my knees. I changed into more comfortable clothes, yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. I went back out into the kitchen and grabbed a yogurt, pulling off the tab and taking big mouthfuls. Petey was practically having a seizure from anticipation, his tail wagging like crazy. I grinned at him as I finished my small meal.
“Okay, bud, walk time,” I said, and he went nuts.
I picked up two plastic bags from the small container I had on the kitchen counter and pushed them into my sweatshirt pouch. I grabbed his leash from the small wooden pegs I had nailed up next to the front door and looked at him.
“Sit down,” I said. He obeyed, tail wagging like mad. I knelt down next to him and fastened the leash onto his collar.
“Okay,” I said as I opened the front door. He excitedly went out into the hallway and stood there, tail wagging, as I locked the door. I grinned down at him.
“Let’s go over to the art museum today,” I said.
We walked down the steps and pushed out into the cool evening air. I looked down the empty block and started to walk north toward the river.
As we moved along the sidewalk, my thoughts drifted back toward college and the friends I’d lost. I wasn’t sure why, probably because Richie’s older brother reminded me so much of the guy I hadn’t spoken to since we graduated. There was something about the way he held himself, with such easy confidence and grace, and how quickly his cocky smile appeared on his face. Even when that guy Liam was trying to do his best parent impression, he still seemed like an arrogant, caged animal. But like my old friend from school, there was something more to him, something I didn’t really understand.
Back then, I was an addict. Well, I was still an addict, but I was recovering one day at a time. I was two years clean, and although I had slipped a little on going to meetings regularly, I still made it a point to get there at least twice a month. Without AA, I don’t know where I would have been. More importantly, without my friends encouraging me to get help, I would never have even found the courage and the desperation to get help. I was a mess, popping pills and snorting coke and who knew what else, barely sleeping and failing all of my classes. It took one horrible night, one blacked-out and dark moment to force me to turn my shit around, but I did and I never looked back.
It all felt so long ago, but talking with Liam had dredged those memories back up. They weren’t all bad, though they mostly
were. More importantly, I had made it, I had survived those awful years. I had been on the path to self-destruction, but I took control of my life and surrendered myself to the program.
Petey squatted down next to a tree and did his business, pulling me out of my memories. I made a face.
“Must be nice, having a human pick up your poop.”
He looked at me and seemed almost guilty. I cleaned up the mess and dropped the bag off in a nearby trashcan, and then I looked around. We were a block away from the art museum, and although Petey had already done his nightly duty, I decided we might as well finish my planned walk. I started moving again, with Petey right next to me, his tail wagging, sniffing every random spot he saw.
Sometimes, I imagined the world through a dog’s eyes. There was the regular layer of everything we usually saw—shadows thrown from a flagpole, heavy green grass, granite shimmering slightly in sunlight, the scarlet red of the sunset—but there was also the smell world. Dogs existed in an entirely different place than we did.
I needed to get out more.
We hugged the sidewalk that curved around the art museum and took a left and headed up toward the river. Statues dotted the walk, but I didn’t bother to look at them. I’d read their plaques a hundred times already, at least. Petey wanted to smell them, but it was getting late and I didn’t want to let him pause for too long.
The place was surprisingly abandoned as we made it down toward the old water company. The sunset looked gorgeous reflected off the water, and the grass and bushes blew softly in the breeze. I shivered for some reason, although I wasn’t very cold. Something felt weird about the scene, but I had no clue why. I glanced around, noting how empty it was, as I made my way up to the railing that overlooked the Schuylkill River.
I stopped and leaned against its cool, smooth metal and looked out at the water moving lazily to the south. The buildings across the way looked huge and dark as the sun began to slowly dip below the horizon. Petey sniffed at a particularly interesting spot next to me.
“Found something good?” I asked him, and he wagged his tail.
That’s when I heard it. Down by the river, almost directly below me, there was a loud splash. Surprised, I leaned over the railing, letting it dig into my stomach as I dipped my head downward, my hair spilling all around me.
There, standing in the shadows of some small trees, were two big guys in black sweatshirts. Floating in the water, half submerged, was what looked like a black package, wrapped in plastic and duct tape. It was slowly sinking, and the two men were rolling another package after it.
I had no clue what they were doing. As far as I knew, dumping trash into the river was illegal, but that was probably why they were doing it quickly and quietly. I watched as they stood together, rolling the second package along the dirt and stones, and heaved, tossing it into the water after the first. There was another loud splash, and the first package dipped down below the water, with the second package not far behind it. I heard the one man grunt and say something, but I couldn’t make it out at my distance.
Suddenly, Petey started barking and jerked at the leash. I looked back at him, and he was staring across the lawn at a squirrel, barking like crazy.
“Petey, no,” I said firmly.
“Hey,” I heard someone call out, and I looked back over the rail.
The two men were standing directly below, staring up at me. I stared back, shocked at the expressions on their faces. One man was handsome and gruff with a thick beard, and the other was shorter and heavier, and was wearing a black wool cap. Both of them looked shocked but furious, as if I had walked in on them doing something terrible.
And maybe I had.
“Hey, lady,” one called out to me.
Immediately, I pulled back.
“Shh, Petey!” I said, quieting him down. The squirrel was gone, but Petey was still on high alert.
“Stay there, lady,” I heard the voice call out again.
Why would they need to yell up at me? The whole thing was weird and shady, and I didn’t want any part in it. I had been in plenty of fucked up situations in my past, and I had developed a sixth sense for danger. Without a second thought, I began walking fast, heading back toward the museum. Petey could tell that something was wrong by how fast I was moving, and he whined softly, his tail wagging hard. We began to climb back up the steep hill, angling toward the relative safety of the museum and the more crowded sidewalks. I knew my best bet was to reach light and a crowd, assuming that they wouldn’t do anything insane in front of witnesses. I got to the top of the hill when I heard him call out again.
“Stop, lady!” he yelled.
He appeared at the top of the staircase that led down to the ledge on which they had been standing. His face looked enraged as he began to move toward me.
Fear and adrenaline spiked through my chest, and I began to run. Petey kept up beside me, trotting hard as I jogged fast toward the sidewalk. We hit the pavement hard and I kept my pace up, not slowing down to look back. I jogged down another hill, toward Kelly Drive. Cars whizzed past, their headlights making shadows of the trees. I glanced back as I began to cut right, heading back toward my apartment, and saw the man following me, far back but coming fast.
My heart raced, pure fear nailing down to the core of me as I picked up my pace. I had no clue why he would chase me, but obviously they had been doing something illegal that they hadn’t wanted me to see. What was he planning to do if he caught me? I kept running, Petey keeping pace, as we made our way south, running toward my apartment. There were more people out on the sidewalks, and I felt a little bit safer, but not nearly enough to stop running. The fact that the guy would run after me meant he was serious, and crowds probably wouldn’t be enough to deter him. I kept moving, hoping people would mistake me for a jogger, and not sure why I cared what anyone thought.
As I made a left, I glanced back but didn’t see the man behind me anymore. I had crossed over from the relatively open space around the museum back into the crowded city blocks. I couldn’t tell if I had lost him or if I just couldn’t see him through the other pedestrians. I slowed down my pace to an easy jog, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I realized how exhausted I was from my short sprint, my whole body on fire, my leg muscles tight and painful, my chest heaving. Petey kept moving beside me, glancing up at me with confusion.
I made another right, heading back to my block. I weaved my way through the other evening walkers, past closed bodegas and barbershops and beer stores, past local bars and delis and more, and finally crossed onto my block. I climbed the stoop quickly, unlocked the front door, got Petey inside, and slammed it shut behind me.
Breathing deep, terror still pulsing through me, I moved up the stairs, unlocked my apartment door, and went inside. I took off Petey’s leash and slammed my deadbolt shut. I ran to my front window and peeked out: nothing unusual. I watched for what felt like ten minutes, but I didn’t see the man that had been chasing me.
What was in those packages? They were pretty large, and they looked really heavy. They were crudely done, so they must not have been professionally wrapped or something. And they didn’t sink immediately, which I thought was weird. It must have been something bad if that guy was willing to chase me for catching them, though. I was in a relatively secluded spot, and I guessed those guys had dumped whatever into the river before without any issues.
I moved away from the window, my heart rate and breathing coming under control.
“That was crazy, wasn’t it, Petey?” I said to him, and he whined at me. “What’s the matter?”
Then I remembered that I hadn’t fed him yet.
Sighing to myself, I pulled his food out of the cupboard and gave him his nightly scoop. As he devoured it, I put the teakettle on to boil, hoping something warm would calm my nerves.
I had never run from someone like that before. For a second there, I had genuinely feared for my life. I had no clue what that guy would have done if he had caught me, and I was glad
he hadn’t.
I shook my head. I would have to alter my dog-walking route for a while, at the very least. That, or risk those guys seeing me again. Briefly, I wondered if I should call the cops, but what would I have told them? I couldn’t really describe the men I had seen very well, and it wasn’t like they’d still be there. As the kettle boiled, I decided it was best if I just forgot about the whole thing.
Maybe that guy didn’t mean me any harm at all, and I overreacted. Maybe he just wanted to explain what they were doing, and it was a totally innocent misunderstanding. As I poured the hot water into a mug, I decided that was what happened. I dropped a bag of mint tea into the hot water and let it steep, remembering the slap the packages had made on the muddy-brown river water.
Petey looked at me quizzically, and I smiled at him.
It was over. Things would go back to normal. I could forget that guy and move on. At least it was a good story I could tell people in the future.
I sipped my tea and smiled, laughing at how stupid I was to run like that.
Chapter Three: Liam
Every morning was more or less the same: I picked the kid up at his mom’s house, hoping that nothing had happened overnight, I drove him to school, dropped him off, and then I headed out to my territory. Day in and day out, like punching the clock at some regular-ass job.
Except there was nothing regular or normal about what I did.
I pulled around back behind my place and stopped my truck at the end of the alley. I cut the engine and climbed out, stretching.
My place was one of the best pub spots in all of south Philly, at least in my humble opinion. It may have been a front for laundering my less-than-legal business transactions, but I made sure to take at least a little pride in it. Some guys had Laundromats that stank of urine, and some guys ran delis with disgusting meat, but not me. I made sure to keep my beer list fresh, my menu delicious, and my décor modern. The hipsters loved my shit, and they had no clue that they were buying their overpriced beer from a violent mobster. I loved looking out over my place on busy nights at the rich kids in their trendy glasses, wondering how many of them would run screaming if they knew who I was and what I did.
