by E. R. FALLON
Colin watched them from his table. Their traditional Irish dance was for him, a gift from Tom. Colin sat back in his new tuxedo and new shiny, black shoes. He was thirty years old.
The day Colin turned thirty Tom threw him a huge party out in the quaint New York countryside. Tom gave him a brand-new silver gun as a gift. Everyone at the party, which consisted of the organization and their families and friends, clapped and smiled when Colin opened the present. Up until then Colin had been using one of Errol’s old Colts. Tom bragged to the room that Colin was a natural when it came to shooting, but Colin hadn’t divulged that his granny had taught him in Kilrea. He also received a box of solid gold bullets and an elegant leather carrying case that would hold his new gun.
From Jarlath he received a motorcycle jacket, identical to Jarlath’s own.
And from Errol he got a modern black telephone. “We’ve arranged for you to have your own line, so that now we can ring you for business, instead of you always having to stop by.”
Tom’s wife presented him with a masculine gold ring. She gently put the heavy ring over his finger. When he felt the warmth of her closeness, heard the comforting lilt in her voice, and smelt her lingering perfume, like lilacs, he closed his eyes. She reminded him of his mother, who was now faraway and might be long gone, for all he knew.
“Now you are truly family,” she said.
Family, because Tom and Errol, and every man in the gang, wore the same gold ring. Colin finally belonged somewhere again.
“Let’s toast!” Tom said to the guests in his thunderous voice.
All of the guests clapped and a few of the men whistled. Tom had arranged for good wine to be served throughout the evening. The men at the party were too polite to mention that all most of them really wanted was a pint of Guinness.
“What’s he trying to do? Is he trying to be like the Italians?” Ronan joked to Colin.
The women liked the wine, but most of the men, including Colin, couldn’t wait until the cake was served and eaten so they could head over to the pubs in the city for the remainder of the night. But they would stay for Tom’s toast and the cake.
The headwaiter, a tall, thin man, carried out a bottle of Taittinger. He opened the bottle, the cork flew off, and then he shot Errol in the chest.
It happened so fast Colin didn’t know what was going on until it was almost over. At first, he couldn’t tell the difference between the sound of the cork popping off the bottle and the gunshots being fired. The headwaiter uncorked the champagne and as it overflowed from the bottle, he drew a black gun out of his waiter’s jacket. He dropped the bottle on the table and it shattered some of the crystal glasses. The champagne streamed down to the carpet. Then he turned to Tom’s left, where Errol sat gulping wine and laughing with sensuous Angela.
And maybe Angie really did love Errol, because when Errol collapsed to the floor after the headwaiter fired the bullets, she cried as she held his head in her hands. Blood ran down both sides of Errol’s chest and turned the hotel’s white carpet bright red. Bubbles of blood popped around his mouth. Errol’s eyelids fluttered.
Angie must have kissed Errol on his face a dozen times, and she kept wailing, “Please, Lord, make him be okay. He’s only thirty-two.”
By then everyone who had gathered in the ballroom for Colin’s birthday stood around the couple and tried to help Errol.
The headwaiter dropped his gun in panic as though he wasn’t a professional killer, and Colin chased him through the red-carpeted lobby, past the shocked hotel workers, and outside to the dark expanse of the parking lot. Colin glanced over his shoulder and saw Ronan and Jarlath close behind him. He ripped off his bowtie and loaded his new gun as he ran. He cursed when a few of the expensive bullets fell to the ground.
The cold air bit into his skin and pushed on his lungs. He glanced at the sky and could see stars, which he rarely saw in the city.
Jarlath and Ronan caught up to him.
“Why did this bloke shoot Errol?” Ronan said.
“Maybe he didn’t like the way Errol looked,” Jarlath replied not without sarcasm.
“Think Errol will make it?” Colin asked.
“He’s been shot before and made it,” Ronan said. “He can be an arse sometimes, but I hope he makes it. Tom won’t be the same if he doesn’t. At least you get to try out your new gun.”
Jarlath gestured toward the direction of the man they were chasing. “That bastard is determined.”
Colin and Ronan grunted in agreement.
The only light was from the stars and it was difficult to see the headwaiter as he ran into the woods that surrounded the parking lot. Colin cursed under his breath. His chest felt heavy as they continued to run after the man. The icy air kept pressing on his lungs. He had already drunk a lot at the party, as had the other two, and the presumably sober waiter had an extra advantage over all of them.
Colin was determined as well, and not because he was in a hurry to retaliate for Errol, but more so because he feared anyone getting away from him. He broke into a sprint and lost sight of Ronan and Jarlath as he exited the parking lot and entered the woods after the waiter. He could hardly see well enough to move freely among the thick, sharp mass of trees.
“Even if I don’t catch you tonight, you’re a dead man anyway,” he shouted out to the darkness. “We’ll find you no matter what, especially if you’ve killed our friend.”
Colin didn’t consider Errol a friend, but he considered Tom one, and Errol was Tom’s son. The headwaiter didn’t answer, but Colin thought he could hear him panting up ahead. Colin could see a bright highway in the distance, and the waiter had stopped at the side of the road. There must have been dozens of cars driving fast along the highway. The headwaiter wouldn’t be able to get across without being hit by one of them. Colin ceased running as he waited for the man to decide what to do next. He turned in Colin’s direction and Colin went closer and aimed his gun at the man’s head.
The waiter’s eyes went wide as he looked at Colin and then at the gun. Then he charged straight into the traffic. Horns blared and cars swerved. Metal hit and crushed his body.
The headwaiter was sprawled and bloody in the center of the highway. The cars had come to a halt around the man with their lights shining on his mangled remains. They beeped their horns and a few people screamed inside their cars.
Ronan and Jarlath reached Colin.
“What the hell happened?” Jarlath asked.
Colin explained. “I didn’t even have to shoot him. He ran out into the road.”
“He did himself in,” Ronan said.
Blood trickled out of the man’s mouth. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and it looked like pieces of his brain were coming out of him. There were large bloody gashes all over his face. His arm had become detached from the rest of his body during the accident and had landed a few feet from him on the road. When people started exiting their cars, Colin knew it was time to leave.
“Tom will want proof he’s dead,” Ronan said.
“What should we do? Run into the highway and carry him back in pieces?” Jarlath joked.
“I think we ought to leave him,” Colin said. “He’s dead, and he’s not going to get any deader than this. The police are going to come any second, and I wouldn’t want Tom and his family dragged into this. Tom will have to take our word for it.”
Jarlath let out a low whistle. “Look at you, lording over our man Tom.” He grinned at Colin.
Ronan didn’t say anything but raised an eyebrow at Colin. “Are we going to have trouble later, Ronan?” Colin asked.
“No. Let’s go back.”
They took their time returning to the upscale hotel.
“I’m fecking tired from all that running,” Jarlath commented on the way.
“I could use a drink,” Ronan said. “It’s too bad we never got to have your cake, Colin.”
“I could use a drink as well,” Jarlath said. “How about you, Colin? Could you use a drink? Ho
w about we return to the city and go to Byrne’s? Sorry your party ended like shite.”
Colin nodded. “But first we have to make sure Errol isn’t dead. And if he isn’t, we’re going to the hospital to see how his family is. And if he is then we’re going to the pub.”
The two other men nodded in agreement at his simple reasoning.
The ambulance had already taken Errol away, and his family had followed in their cars. None of the three men would admit it aloud, but Colin sensed they were all a little disappointed that Errol wasn’t dead when they heard the news. Not because they despised him, but because now they’d be stuck at some rural hospital for the rest of the evening with an emotional and unpredictable Angela and a temperamental Tom, and the three of them still sobering up and weary.
Colin, Ronan, and Jarlath rode in Ronan’s car, which smelled like new leather, to the hospital. Ronan parked in the tree-lined visitor’s lot. Errol had been pronounced dead by a doctor a few minutes before they arrived. But Colin knew Errol’s fate as soon as he stepped into the waiting room. Sensing tragedy had become natural to him over the years. Angela sat on a chair, crying softly, being comforted by Ronan’s wife. Tom was slumped over in his chair with his arm around his wife, who sobbed. Tom stared straight ahead. He wasn’t crying, and he didn’t look broken but rather hungry for revenge. Ronan, who had known Tom the longest, embraced Tom and his wife.
Angela looked up at Colin. “He’s dead. My Errol’s dead.”
“I’m so sorry, Angie.” Colin patted her shoulder.
Colin stepped over to Tom and gave him his condolences. He reported on the shooter’s demise. “Ronan, Jarlath and me took care of the bastard who did this. We chased him to the expressway, and the coward ran out and got hit by a car rather than having us shoot him. He was torn to shreds, Tom. He suffered greatly.”
The family, including the women, smiled at the news.
The hard look on Tom’s face softened a little. “Thank you.”
An hour later, Colin looked at the seated mourners and didn’t know where he belonged, perhaps at the pub. The strange odors of the hospital bothered him.
“Byrne’s?” Colin said to Jarlath as they stood by the coffee machine in the hallway.
“Sure.” Jarlath knocked back the remainder of his coffee and threw the cup into the garbage can.
Jarlath nudged Ronan who was leaning against the wall. “Want to go to the pub?”
“Let’s go.”
They went outside to Ronan’s car in the parking lot. “I feel terrible for Tom and his family, but I’m glad we’re finally leaving. I didn’t think I could stand being around all that death much longer. If my old lady wants to stay, she can, but I said to her, I’m taking the car. I’ll pick her up later and take her home.”
“I know what you mean. It gets to your head.” Jarlath looked over at Colin who had been quiet.
Colin didn’t respond. He couldn’t get enough of the stars in the sky.
They returned to the hotel to collect Colin’s gifts. Colin had felt comfortable leaving them there because he knew no one would dare steal from Tom’s party.
They spent an hour at Byrne’s that night. Colin called Lucille from the phone booth near his apartment.
“Lucille,” he said when she answered.
“Colin, it’s two o’clock in the morning,” she whispered.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I asked you not to call me again.”
“I didn’t have anyone else to call. It’s my birthday.”
She sighed. “Happy birthday.”
“I killed somebody.”
“What do you mean you ‘killed’ . . .”
“I got them killed. Did you hear the news about Tom McPhalen’s son, Errol?”
“No. What about him?”
“He was killed tonight. We chased after the fellow who shot Errol, and the guy ran into traffic and was killed.”
“If he hadn’t done that then you would’ve shot him, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I would have had to.”
“Please don’t tell me more. I shouldn’t know more. God knows I know too much already.”
“I was thinking of you earlier.”
“While this man was dying?” she snapped at him.
“No. At the party Tom gave me. You weren’t there to celebrate with me. I missed you.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Of course I am. It’s my birthday.” He chuckled a little. “Can I see you?”
“Now?”
“I’ll come to where you are, or meet you halfway.”
“No. No. It’s two in the morning. My husband is sleeping. Oh, no. He’s awake. I have to go. Don’t call me again. I won’t answer the phone. You’re a good man, Colin, get away from Tom McPhalen.”
He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Will your husband answer if I call again? I’ll talk to him if he does. I’ll let him know how much I care about you. Why doesn’t he ever answer the phone? Is he afraid of me?”
“Colin, don’t.” Lucille ended the call.
A year went by and Errol’s death still hung in the air. The police had treated Errol as simply a victim, and since the headwaiter had died in what they deemed a suicide, the case wasn’t being actively investigated. Errol’s mother made an elaborate shrine to him in the living room. Colin couldn’t step inside Tom’s house without encountering the gold-framed photograph of Errol surrounded by tall red candles, which smelled like cheap perfume. Every time Colin visited Tom’s house, the scent of the candles caught in his throat. Errol’s favorite black hat rested on top of the picture frame, and a dried four-leaf clover that his mother had saved from Ireland was displayed in front of the photograph. After Errol’s death, traditional Irish music played on and off from a record player in the house.
It turned out that the headwaiter and Errol had a past. The man’s brother had owed Tom money, and the brother had been killed by Errol. So the man had arranged to work at the party in order to shoot Errol for revenge.
Colin thought a lot about Johnny after the deaths. Once in a while he’d see Johnny on the street and they’d say hello, but otherwise they didn’t acknowledge that years ago they had been good friends. They still hadn’t had a real conversation.
Colin had heard Johnny quit the mechanic’s shop and was now working with an up-and-coming street gangster named Tito Bernal – who had become a hero of sorts for the Bowery’s Cuban residents. Johnny was running a gambling operation for Bernal and enforcing. He had married Bernal’s daughter, Lila, a few months ago, and they had a baby girl. Johnny was living with Lila and her mother farther up on the East Side. The mother was divorced from Tito Bernal, who had remarried.
Colin stopped by the pier that ran along the East River one Friday evening in September to see if Johnny might be there. They had frequented the pier as children, and Colin heard Johnny still visited the now decaying place to fish or smoke a cigarette and escape his mother-in-law. Tom was worried about Tito Bernal moving in on the Bowery, and Colin had told Tom one of his childhood friends worked with Bernal. He promised he’d have a chat with the friend to see if he could obtain information on Bernal’s motives.
The air wasn’t quite cool. A damp smell, which Colin liked, came from the river. It reminded him of the old days before his father died. For a while he sat on a thick piece of rotting wood stained green with algae close to the water’s edge and looked across at Brooklyn. Then he rose from the log and sat on the dirty ground cross-legged, like he had done as a boy. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow. He looked sideways and saw nothing. Brooklyn seemed so close that he tried to reach out and hold it, but he couldn’t. The bright city shone on the gentle, flowing water.
“Colin?”
He turned around.
“Colin?” Johnny stood a few feet behind him.
Colin rose and tried to act surprised to see his old friend. “Johnny. What are you doing here?” He smiled.
“I come he
re a lot to escape the chaos in my home. If you haven’t already heard, I got married again.” Johnny walked closer.
He sounded upbeat, he sounded the same, but Colin hardly recognized his old friend. Johnny dressed just like him. He had styled hair and wore a gold watch, and he seemed wealthier and more sophisticated. Colin couldn’t recall his childhood friend wearing anything except jeans but now he wore a suit.
“I did hear, actually. Congratulations.” Colin stood up to shake Johnny’s hand. They embraced and Colin patted his back. “I wanted to send you a gift for this one, but I didn’t know the address.”
“Thanks, but don’t worry about it.”
Colin downplayed his friend’s insult with a chuckle. “Come on, you don’t want a gift? That’s not like you. Maybe it is like you now. I don’t really know you anymore.” He tried to keep his emotions in check. “Congratulations on the new baby as well.”
“Thanks.” Johnny glanced at the river. “So how come you’re out here?”
Colin shrugged and looked at the river. “Just sitting, thinking. I haven’t been here in a long time, not since we were boys. I wanted to see how it looked these days. Remember we used to come here as boys?”
“I do. Thinking. That’s a good thing to do. I ought to try that myself sometime.” He laughed.
Colin laughed along with him. “Are you going to go on home to your woman now or what?” he teased.
Johnny smiled and played along. “Are you trying to tell me something? You trying to kick me out?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Colin grinned.
“I was going to stay here for a bit, if that’s all right. Sorry if you wanted to be alone. I can go somewhere else if you want to be alone.”
“I don’t mind the company. We haven’t spoken in a long time. How are you?”
Johnny gestured to the ground. “Actually, can we sit down?” Colin nodded and sat with him as they had done as boys. “I’m doing all right,” Johnny said.