Trust Me

by Richard Z. Santos

  “Branch said you’ll get your cards back when I get to the office. You can go now. Lou will be here soon. You’ll be able to get gas outside of town.” Charles laughed, bitter and sad. “There’s a pueblo just south of town with a gas station. Tell them I sent you, and they’ll charge you double.”

  Addie shook her head. “No, I’ll wait. I want to see the car. I’m going to take a picture of his license plate. They need to know people are paying attention.”

  Charles smiled and reached for her hand. She pulled it away before he got halfway there.

  Addie turned in the driver’s seat and looked straight at Charles. Her eyes were cold and serious and she spoke deliberately.

  “I’m going straight to the airport. I will sleep in the terminal, I don’t care. There’s an eight AM flight to Baltimore. I’ll buy you a ticket. I will leave it at the counter, okay?”

  Charles nodded and opened his mouth, then closed it. Everything he thought to say was hollow.

  “I’ll be the last person on that flight and I’ll ask them to hold the doors if you’re not there. But I will get on that plane. After that . . .”

  When Lou pulled up, Charles’ leg started to shake. He did not want to go. He wanted to hide. He wanted to run into those mountains and burrow deeper and deeper.

  Lou stepped out of the town car. Addie took his picture and started the car.

  Charles tasted blood in the back of his throat. “This is the right thing to do,” he said. Addie nodded and gave his hand a squeeze. It was a small gesture, barely anything at all, but it calmed him. He took a deep breath and got out of the car.

  Lou smiled and opened his passenger door. “You look like shit.”

  “I wish I could argue.”

  Addie leaned her head out of her open window. “He’s not going to get hurt,” she said.

  “I know ma’am. The boss only has a few questions. Mallon won’t be there. Everything’s very confusing right now, but we should go.”

  As Charles looked back at Addie, she said, “I’ll see you at the airport.”

  Charles smiled and nodded, wondering if Jim Hawley’s wife had said the same thing.

  He watched the back of Lou’s bald head the whole drive. He wanted more smiles. He wanted Lou to assure him that everything would be fine, that they would have time to drink some piss beer before he caught his flight. Lou did not say a word.

  As they pulled into the office, Charles broke the silence. “Mallon won’t be here?”

  Lou shook his head. “Mallon doesn’t work for us anymore. I sent him home.”

  “He should be in prison.”

  Lou shrugged and turned off the car. “He always did what he thought was right.”

  Charles got out of the car and followed Lou into the office.

  “The big man is going to have questions for you,” Lou said. “He’ll yell and be crazy, you know how he is, but you’ll make that flight.” Lou stopped and turned around. “Unless you try to get clever.”

  “I’m done being clever.”

  Lou laughed. “Yeah, I bet you are.”

  Branch sat on a desk chair in the middle of the sea of cubicles. Only the emergency lights were on and the room drowned in shadows, broken by occasional patches of red and white.

  Branch was leaning back in a chair with his hands folded over his chest. He looked so normal without his mansion and his fawning crowds.

  “Quite a day,” he said. “You know, I was actually happy this morning. I’m so glad your face looks that painful. Pity there’s no fractures. Mallon must be getting soft.”

  He pointed towards a chair a few feet in front of him.

  Charles sat down. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m going to get an x-ray back in DC. I’ll send you a bill.”

  Branch smiled. “If you make it to DC.”

  “I’ll make it. Lots of people know where I am. There are cameras in here. You’re not going to do anything stupid. I need my accounts unlocked. My wife’s too.”

  Branch nodded at Lou, who pulled out his phone and stepped towards the door. Charles noticed Lou had positioned himself out of earshot but could still see what was happening.

  “Even after I let you go, I’m sure you’ll find a whole new pile of shit to fall into.”

  Charles reached into his jacket for another painkiller. Branch’s insults would have stung a few days ago, but however nasty Branch got, it was nothing compared to what Charles was thinking about himself.

  “I’m not here for you,” Charles said. “I’m here so that my wife and I can leave. You don’t scare me anymore. Not after this,” Charles said, pointing to his face. “And not after everything else I’ve been through this past week. I should be the one threatening you. If I beat you to death with a paper shredder, at least I’d know where I’d be sleeping the next few years.”

  Branch raised his eyebrows. He seemed impressed. “Oh I like that. You know, when Olivia brought me your resume, I thought you had balls. I don’t know if you had them before but, boy, you’ve got them now. You’re going to do terrible things after you leave New Mexico. Next time you’re looking in the mirror, look deep into your eyes. You’ll scare the piss out of yourself.”

  “You paid off San Miguel, didn’t you? You got ripped off.”

  “And I’m sure you will enlighten me . . . for a price.”

  Charles swallowed and managed a small nod. “Your wife played both of us, but San Miguel has been orchestrating this whole thing.”

  “My wife has more guts than all of us put together. Mallon included. When did you two cook all this up?”

  “I didn’t know she was out here when I took the job. She surprised me. I came home to that house you gave me one day, and she was . . . in my bed.”

  Branch took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out in a rush. “What did she want?”

  “You know what she wanted. I’m sure she figured out a way to get it. She wanted to leave you and start over. Did you let her?”

  “What I’ve done with my ex-wife is none of your business.” Branch’s rage flashed.

  Charles felt his heart beat faster. He glanced over his shoulder at Lou, who was still standing in the doorway.

  “Lou won’t keep me from knocking out those teeth Mallon loosened,” Branch said. “Those recordings Mallon told me about. You don’t have any, do you?”

  “I wish I did. But I know who’s bankrolling those Apaches and if you want any of the money back . . .”

  “There was always going to be something or someone to pay off. It’s already forgotten. There was a problem, it went away. That’s a win in my book.”

  Charles stared at the thin, grey carpet. It was all a game to people like Branch. The people Charles had been working for his entire life.

  “So what do I leave here with?”

  “You get to leave here,” Branch said.

  Charles stood up.

  Branch stood up also. “You’re done, boy, when I say you’re done.”

  “You win. I’m done trying to find an angle. Enjoy your casino and your . . .”

  Charles flinched and ducked as the front door shattered. He looked back and saw Lou decked out and Mallon standing over him. Charles backed up, clawing for something to put between him and the train barreling towards him.

  Mallon reached for his hip, grabbed his gun, pointed the barrel straight at Charles and pulled the trigger.

  FIFTY-TWO

  A RED EYEBALL blinked open on Branch’s gut and grew and grew as Branch dropped to the ground and caused an earthquake that broke windows and scared hawks out of trees and cracked a nuclear reactor in Los Alamos. One down. Mallon did not care which one he hit first. They were both in his sights. Once they were gone, then all the chaos would be gathered up and flushed away.

  Charles was on his back, dropped by the shockwave and the hand of God that Mallon felt move through him and into his fists, guided by unimaginable power. Mallon could clean up this mess, this one mess. Give everyone a chance to start over. The t
ribes and Claudia and the people trying to make it through the day and even Mrs. Branch who’d sold him out would have a chance to start over with these two dead.

  Mallon advanced, both hands on the gun’s grip. He relished O’Connell’s blubbering. Suddenly, there was movement over his shoulder. Lou was up. Bad news for Lou. He wanted Lou to stay down, but now Lou was there, pointing a gun at him, coming straight for him.

  Mallon kept his gun on O’Connell, and time slowed so much that he could close his eyes and breathe and enjoy the heightening of his senses. He missed that feeling. Branch had made him grow soft. Sorry, Lou, you should have stayed down.

  Mallon spun and pulled the trigger faster than Lou. Nothing happened. Click. Click. Click. And then, the ceiling. Mallon was on the ceiling. No, he was looking at the ceiling, and Lou was kicking his gun away. Had he done what he needed? Had he restored balance? Unclear. Then, Mallon remembered the desk sergeant and his gun in an evidence bag. They had emptied the clip and tossed the bullets but forgotten to clear the chamber. Mallon had forgotten to check. The training was never good enough, and he hated that, but not as much as he hated the cold in his chest, the kind of cold Claudia complained about. Where was Claudia? He did this for her. So the world could stay together. Where was she? He missed her. Then, suddenly, she was there. She pressed a palm on his forehead, and he felt his body go soft. Claudia rolled her eyes and smiled at him. Then she curled up on his chest and sunk into his bones, and he followed her. Down. Down there, finally. Where everything was quiet.

  FIFTY-THREE

  ROSE HELPED JOHNNY AND MICAH set up their video games in the living room. The two boys had never met, but they quickly established a quiet, spare way of communicating. Nothing about what they were doing looked like fun to Gabe, but he could not deny their smiles.

  After they started playing, Rose tilted her head at Gabe and gave him a smile full of teeth.

  “Should we make some coffee, Gabe?”

  “I don’t really think I . . .”

  Rose brushed past him and walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “Fucking nerve,” she said. “It’s impressive. I slam the door in your face, and you’re back with your son and a smile. You knew I had to let you in if he was with you.”

  “Let me explain.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure it was bad and I’m sure it was your own fault.”

  “Frederick was in the house. He threatened us. He took your check and made me endorse it. I thought he was going to hurt Micah.” Gabe lowered his voice. “The kid freaked out. He called his mom. She’ll be here soon.”

  “Then, why’d you come here? Helen never liked me, and now she’s going to think . . .” Rose pointed at Gabe, then back to her and back again.

  “You said you wanted to see Micah. And I needed to tell you about the check.”

  “Stop it. The check is fine. I’ll cancel the check. Frederick was just trying to scare you. Drug dealers don’t cash checks. Why did you come here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  Rose sneered. “Uh huh, sure. Why did you come here, Gabe?”

  He put his hands on his hips. “I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t have anywhere else. Rey’s stressed out by his case. All my other friends are lowlifes. Your place is so nice and . . . I knew you’d be good to Micah.”

  Rose kept her arms folded, but her posture thawed. “Why else? There’s always something else with you.”

  Gabe opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could find the words. He felt like a drowning fish.

  “Don’t freak out again. I wanted you to help me explain to Micah about the cancer.”

  Rose made her hands into two fists and brought them up to her chest. “Stop it, you stop it, you can’t just make up something like that.”

  “Look, I’ve had those visions before, and there’s always something to them. This one was clear. Even Jefe agreed with me, and everyone knows cancer runs in families. My bones have been hurting. I’ve been tired, weak.”

  Rose cut him off with a wave and then grabbed a piece of paper off the top of her fridge. “I looked this up after you left the other day. Symptoms of bone cancer: tiredness, pain in joints, exhaustion.”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it for real.”

  “You know what else those are symptoms of? Being an old asshole. You don’t have bone cancer. When did you have that vision?”

  “Almost a month ago.”

  “And what was your dad like a month after his diagnosis?”

  Gabe looked around the kitchen. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t show up until the very end, you know that.”

  “He’d lost twenty-five pounds that first month. He was dead in eight weeks.” She pointed to Gabe’s belly. “You’ve been going the other way.”

  Gabe shook his head and brought a hand to his chest. “No, nooo . . . there’s a pain. Right here. Like a lead plate I can’t lift. Sometimes I wake up in the night and I can barely breathe. I don’t want to die without explaining myself to Micah. I need you to show me how.”

  “What do you mean how? There is no how. You don’t have cancer. You feel terrible because you’re old and alone, not because you’re dying. You don’t need to tell him anything. You need to be there for him.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Gabe said.

  “It really is. They don’t actually want big heart-to-hearts. They just want you to be around. They want you to listen.”

  “I was a crap father when we lived together, and I’ve been worse since then. My dad would rather smack me in the mouth than talk to me.”

  Rose turned away from Gabe and stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Micah,” she yelled, “are those papers your dad gave you out there.”

  Micah, playing the game, spared time for a distracted response. “The what?”

  “The papers,” Rose yelled.

  “Yeah, they’re here somewhere, I guess.”

  “Cool,” Rose said. “Bring them in here and grab these sandwiches I made for y’all.”

  Gabe heard the sound of the video game disappear and footsteps come towards the kitchen.

  Rose smiled. “Food tends to get a response.”

  She walked past Micah, who looked around the kitchen, confused. “Sandwiches?”

  Gabe waved him forward. “Hey, let’s look at those papers real fast.”

  “Yeah, I want to, but I’m real close to finishing this level.”

  “Real fast,” Gabe said. He pointed at the papers in Micah’s hand.

  Micah looked at them as if he were seeing them for the first time. “Are these all about your mom?”

  “No, that’s the thing. See, I wanted to do something for you. I wanted to leave you with something.”

  Micah leafed through the pages. “I don’t get it. Did you write these?”

  “Yeah, about myself.”

  “Okay. That’s cool.” Micah looked up at Gabe. “I haven’t read them yet, but I will.”

  “They’re not very good. I wanted to pass on, you know, some wisdom.”

  Micah looked back over his shoulder towards the living room and the TV. Then Micah’s phone rang. He looked at it and grimaced. “Oh, it’s Mom, I forgot I called her.”

  Gabe swallowed hard. “Is she here?”

  “I doubt it.” Micah answered the phone. “Hey, Mom. No, I’m fine. The what? Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. Everything’s cool here.” Micah looked at Gabe. “Dad took me to his friend’s house—nice house—and I’m playing video games with her son.” Micah grinned. “I’m sorry the message sounded that way. You know me. I was probably half paying attention, but, no, everything’s fine, I swear.”

  The kid was covering for him. Keeping his mom away so he could stick around longer. Micah was lying to her. He was weaving a story, laughing away her concern. It was how Gabe would have handled the situation and he felt a little queasy because of it.

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” Micah said. He hung
up. “Now what’s the deal with these?” He held up the papers.

  Gabe shook his head. “Nothing, well, no they’re something I worked on, but they’re nothing. Here,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Micah pulled the papers away. “I want to keep the stuff about Grandma.”

  “That’s fine.” Micah handed over the pages and went back into the living room. Rose ducked her head back in and smiled. “Well? Easy, right?”

  Gabe shrugged and walked out of the kitchen and onto the front patio. Rose followed him. He lit a cigarette. She took one from his pack and lit it herself.

  “Look,” she said, pointing through the window at Johnny and Micah. “They’re having fun. That means you’re doing something right.”

  Gabe let out a cloud of smoke. “I guess so.”

  Gabe looked at what he had written. None of it made sense. These were not his stories. They were the stories of someone much better. Someone who never sold weed. Someone who never broke his own arm a week into boot camp and spent decades lying about that and everything else. Gabe lit the pages on fire and dropped them into a coffee can near the front door.

  “What the heck?” Rose shouted. She ran inside for a glass of water. Gabe smiled as she doused the fire and slapped at his arm.

  Rose laughed away her anger and slipped her arm through his. She leaned her head on his shoulder until she complained about it hurting and stood up straight. They smoked their cigarettes and watched their boys play video games. A very small corner of that lead plate in Gabe’s chest reluctantly came loose, turned to dust and blew away in the breeze.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  CHARLES WALKED OUT of the police station at five AM. The wind had kicked up and it felt sharp and cool against his busted face. Addie was waiting in Albuquerque. Their flight left in three hours.

  The cops and paramedics had arrived fifteen minutes after Lou called them. It was another thirty minutes before Branch was stable enough for the ambulance to move him. Charles assumed the mean bastard would be writing a book and cashing in on his recovery within six months.