by Damon Suede
Exposure. Andy had left him evidence so he’d wise up.
Unless he was jumping to conclusions? No.
Ruben paused at the door and then trailed after them casually. He was still supposed to be a houseguest visiting from Colombia, right? In public, he was still a wheeler-dealer colleague investing with Andy. He wasn’t invisible, but neither of them looked back in his direction. Liars for hire.
Was Marlon a friend or a target? Hell, maybe he’d orchestrated the attacks himself, and this was a bribe. No way for Ruben to know.
Andy’s hand stayed on the small of the man’s back, steering this weedy asshole out. Just as they reached the foyer, Andy caught Ruben’s eye as he leaned over to press the down button. He winked. The shark fin broke the surface of the water.
Just like that, Ruben knew: Andy the hitman was still in business.
He could see the brick wall at the end of this particular freeway. Andy would never let up on the gas because it wasn’t in his nature.
“Halt.” Ruben gave himself the order out loud. Hungry. Angry. Lonely. Tired. All true, even though he didn’t wanta drink. He wanted something worse.
Without telling anyone, Ruben left by the back.
Halt, he kept telling himself in the service elevator, riding down with piles of trash. Halt, halt while his feet moved underneath him.
He went to the park and stared at the sky till the sun gave up. His phone rang a couple of times, and text messages made it buzz in his breast pocket, but he knew who it was and didn’t bother to respond. What could he say that wouldn’t be a mistake? Couldn’t call Peach or his brother. No one really. Even going to a meeting sounded like a Band-Aid on a head wound.
How many lives had Andy ruined? He thought of the lady at the museum benefit, throwing her champagne and snarling with her tit out. Remembered Andy sneering at his parents and his prep school while he slathered charm and crisp bills over bystanders. Bait. The angry faces on the street. If any part of Andy was ugly, that was it, the bruise on the wormy apple.
Ruben could never stop him, then. He had to admit he was powerless. Let go or be dragged. And until Andy could admit it, he’d keep going until he hit bottom, just like a drunk.
When Ruben walked back to the Iris, the evening had crept up on him, and the car service traffic was inching down Fifth Avenue toward expensive dinners. He felt entombed up here, and the last thing he wanted was to climb back into his glass prison.
Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.
Stalling for time, for a plan, he stopped on the thirty-third floor for a swim. He stripped to his boxers, not caring who saw, and swam laps till his arms and legs burned and his skin was pruney beige. Dawdling, he let himself air-dry in one of the deck chairs and smoked the last crushed cigarette from the stolen pack, holding the fumes inside him until he got light-headed. A sound above him made him look up. Sure enough, a familiar silhouette stood at the edge. Andy was awake, watching him swim for the first time in a week.
Finally, around eleven o’clock, when he couldn’t sit there in his jockeys anymore, he shrugged back into his rumpled black suit and climbed the back stairs to the library. He stopped at the desk long enough to pick the lock on the briefcase again. The glossy prospectus made him feel like a dupe and a dope. Walk away. Analysis is paralysis.
Finally, he swiped the damning evidence, hoping to sneak into his room and skip a confrontation but still spoiling for a fight.
Andy’s silhouette blocked the little dogleg hall to the guest room. “The fuck is going on, Rube?” A smile in his voice.
Ruben swiveled and walked out the library doors onto the terrace, the Apex prospectus rolled into a tight tube. He just needed some air if they were going to duke this out sober.
He waited until Andy came out onto the deck and nuzzled his neck before he let fly. “When were you gonna come clean?”
Andy stiffened. His breathing stilled. “What d’ya mean? Where you been all day?”
Slow nod. “You wanna get yourself killed.”
His lips closed against Ruben’s skin, and he pulled back. “What did you see?”
“He’s a target, right? Stanz. You’re gonna take that fucker out with your black market tycoon-fu.” He crossed his arms and stepped back, annoyed at the paternal rumble coming out of himself.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to, Andy. I know you.” Ruben brandished the Apex report. He slapped the pages against his thigh.
“You read it?”
Ruben rolled his eyes. “What should I do, lick the info off the pages? Yes, I fucking read it. I’m not illiterate. You’re gonna bankrupt him.” He squeezed Andy’s arm to take the sting out of the accusation.
Andy held up his hands, sloshing his drink. Scotch, rocks. “This is different.”
“From what is it different? Looks like the exact same shady BS got you into this mess in the first place. Or else he’s in on the deal.”
Andy’s fingers dripped whiskey. “Yeah. Look. Sorry. I should’ve—”
“Told the truth? Used your brain? Learned your lesson?”
Andy sighed. “D: all of the above. But this one’s different. Personal.”
“I don’t care. You want revenge? Great. If they’re crooks, then turn ’em in.”
“Well, fuck.” Andy dry-chuckled. “This isn’t like before. Well, not full-on assassination. But he’s a real piece of work, that one. Abusive. Conservative. Politically connected. His company just poisoned three thousand acres of groundwater and he’s gonna get off—”
“I didn’t move in here to find more bullets to dodge.”
“Nah.” A tight sip.
“This shit is dangerous. Stupid and dangerous. You know better, Bauer.”
“No, Rube.”
“Don’t call me that. You’re cranking this hitman bullshit back up with me on the premises. You tried to sneak it past me because you knew it was stupid and dangerous.”
Andy frowned and looked at the tile, chin tucked against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not. You’re busted. That’s not the same thing. I’m a drunk, remember. I know all about strategic apologies. Talk to me.”
“He’s a monster. His partners protect him. You think any of the partners give a shit? They stay on those boards out of boredom.”
“And what are you, Deadly Do-Right riding to the rescue? You’re dumb enough to think you’re safe now because I scared a couple toughs before they could throw you off the balcony? This fucking balcony.” His voice had gotten loud, and he dropped it abruptly at the end.
Andy squinted suddenly. “I never said I’d stop.”
“You never said you’d be stupid, either. I can’t believe you’d put yourself in that kind of danger again, for nothing. For kicks.” Betrayal squeezed his guts. “Go ahead, hitman. Make some more enemies you can’t handle. Good choice.”
“You’re wrong.”
Ruben frowned and shook his head as if trying to unfog his eyes. “You’re a criminal and you used me as a decoy. We almost get killed. And you wanna stay in business so they can take another swing at you.”
“No.”
“Then what, Andy? You don’t need the money. You don’t want the headache. You don’t even care about these assholes. I’m standing here asking you to let it go. To stop testing the rules and breaking the law just so they can come bust you for good.”
The dent between Andy’s eyebrows deepened, but his eyes looked sad and sorry. “I don’t want that, either.”
“You don’t need to get caught. I’ve caught you, okay?” Please, Andy. And for a moment, one glittering second, Ruben thought he’d saved them, protected them from the oily blackness churning beneath their feet, everyone and everything that would keep them apart and trapped in solitary confinement.
The lights inside lit Andy, left him a silhouette against the window. Better that his face stayed hidden. The windows and stone perspired in the muggy
air.
Andy peered at the minnows of ice swimming in his Scotch. “I’m not brushing you off.”
“Right.”
“I’m listening, but I disagree, Ruben. We’re both part of this. Together. You want me to just nod my head like a robot? I disagree because I know what I’m doing. I think you’re wrong.”
“Of course you do. You warned me. You’re the bad guy.” Ruben fake-grinned.
Andy shook his head. “Ruben, I don’t want you to be a target.”
“Yes, you do! You hired me to be a fucking target.”
“That’s not fair. We’re not in any danger, huh? We’re happy.”
“Now you tell me,” Ruben scoffed.
“You asked!”
“Don’t put this on me. You tried to con me. You hooked a whopper and dragged him up here, and you thought I wouldn’t notice. Hitman.” He threw the prospectus. It flapped to Andy’s bare feet.
“And I don’t need you stomping around like Guardzilla anymore.” Andy took a deep, double swallow of the gasoline in his glass and revved back up. “So I have to clear things through you now?” He put his glass on the ledge.
Over his shoulder the park at night became a woolly black shadow.
Ruben pressed. “You’re used to buying things, hiring solutions. No price tags ’cause they don’t factor. You want to install me, the new thing: a spic dick with the combat grip and Kevlar brain. You think I’m an idiot because I’ll never make this kinda dough, and I’ll never belong in this place.” He swept an arm at the terrace and teak furniture and the zillion-dollar penthouse inside. A resigned shrug. “True. So I guess it’s all true.”
Andy flailed, boxing the air. “It’s a test! Some moments in life, you spend your whole life preparing for.” He looked around them, not seeing much. “None of us are perfect. Me least of all. But I know when something is worth the risk.”
“That’s the thing, Andy. You keep an invisible ledger in your head. Crazy fucking tally of everything everyone owes you and vice versa.”
Slow headshake. “I don’t—”
“Which is why you like paying for shit. You never have to owe anyone. Long as your wallet’s open, the IOUs only flow one way.”
“Until someone does something, offers something that doesn’t cost money.” Andy raised his eyes, hopeful and hesitant.
What did he want Ruben to say? Which lie was he supposed to tell to cover both their asses? Ruben ignored the swallow of Scotch balanced on the ledge.
Andy eyed him for a long moment. “Scared.” An exasperated smile. “You’re terrified and I’m terrified.”
“Yeah? What am I afraid of?”
Andy shrugged. “Nothing. Everything! I’m afraid too. Whatever this… is, is worth being scared.”
“The price.”
“We both gotta pay it. And I’m paying. I want to. You changed everything, Ruben.”
“For the record, Bauer, you got no problems money can solve.” Ruben stopped talking so fast his teeth clacked together.
“Ruben, it’s not zero sum… like, all the happiness gets used up before you get your fucking slice. We have a chance. Together. Look at me, will you. I’m telling you the truth.”
“You think I’m blind? I’ve watched you! Sucking them all in, a Boy Scout’s face with a hitman’s heart. I should be fucking scared.”
“But you’re not scared: you’re scary. It’s your party trick.” Andy gave a knowing chin-jerk.
“In Miami the guys used to tell each other, ‘Don’t stick your dick in crazy.’ There’s my trouble. We fucked just enough that the crazy came off on me.”
“We’re not in any danger. You said so yourself, and the problem has been neutralized because it wasn’t a real problem to start with. Look at us. We’re so good together, man. Can’t you just enjoy that?”
Ruben chuckled without pleasure. “Spoiled rotten. Nothing touches you up here. You don’t even know what’s down there.” He pointed past Andy’s glass at the streets below. “I gotta go.”
“Why?” Andy goggled, as if Ruben had announced he was going to jump off the ledge and grab a pizza on the way down.
“Just some air. Space. I’m not thinking straight.” Ruben walked away before they both tossed out more regret bait.
Andy followed anyways, apparently determined to fuck things up. “Wrong. You had a plan. You came in and rubbed my defenses into rubble.”
Leave me alone.
Ruben went inside, through the dark library, and down the unlit hall to the living room, trying to escape. Through the giant windows, the city glittered black and endless in all directions.
Andy’s wary silence pressed against his back like a curtain.
If they could cool off, they could go back to being good together. Lying and pretending. Again the certainty that Andy made him act like an addict. Ruben rubbed his eyes, wishing he could go to a meeting or a bar or anything else than this booby-trapped glass box. And I’m the booby that’s trapped.
Peach always said, Just accept, don’t expect. True. Ruben had spent so much time projecting his assumptions onto the world that he forgot what reality looked like. A brief, cold spear of missing her pierced him. Homesick. Right then, staring out the glass over the mountaintops of Manhattan, he’d have given anything to hear her croak out a showtune while she wagged a knobby finger at his scowl. Andy didn’t even know she was dead.
A crack in front of him and a damp rush of night air.
Andy opened the living room’s double-wide doors and stepped inside cradling his half-empty glass of poison. Sweat stained his pits and the button-V at his chest, the pale blue soaked there. He must’ve walked around the terrace to head things off. His paranoid scrutiny drifted over Ruben’s face like woozy spiders.
Ruben counted his breaths. How long had he sat on that bench today? Why hadn’t he gone to a meeting when he had a chance? Stupid. “Andy, I don’t want to work for you anymore.”
Andy frowned. His voice went rough. “Stop it. Don’t make this about money.”
“Who said anything about money? I said work.” Ruben pressed his lips against his teeth, searching for the sane way to defuse the fight before it got ugly between them. Before everyone started telling the truth all the fuck over this penthouse. “I’m not a hitman or a banker, or a liar or any of the other shit you’ve decided to be. You’re not, either, but them’s the breaks, I guess.”
“You’re doing this because you want to be here. You do. With me. But you’re ashamed.”
Ruben frowned. “I’m not ashamed of anything.”
Andy laughed. “Right. Which is why we only touch in the dark. Why you won’t turn the lights on or open the blinds.”
“I’ve been trying to protect you, jackass.”
“Me? Really? From who? Light bulbs? Oso, you hide from everything. You keep everything bottled up. Your whole life you’ve been hunkering down in these bolt-holes while the world happened around you. Keeping yourself in a cage so your hope never gets loose and embarrasses you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Well, here we are, man, the whole goddamn world outside your bottle. I’m right here inviting you to come be in it with me.” Andy extended his hand, but Ruben didn’t take it.
“I don’t need your help.” A lie, and he knew it.
“I need yours.” Andy paused.
“Stop lying to me.” He’d known that first day: Nobody can be as honest as this guy looks.
“I don’t get why you’re so flipped out, Rube.” Andy held up his hands in defeat. “Look, Marlon’s still solvent. Nothing has happened to that douchebag. I haven’t done anything. I can pull the plug before he’s plugged. If you tell me no, I won’t.”
“Andy, I don’t believe you.” And that was it. Everything. The boy cried wolf because there were wolves. The boy cried. Ruben wiped his nose. Oh well. He’d ruin this thing he had with Andy too, like anything he ever touched or cared about.
Congrats, Oso! You’ve won… a new low bar!
&
nbsp; The trajectory of his latest failure painted itself so plainly that his disappointment almost felt like relief. Fucking up was his real expertise; it belonged under special skills on his resume. “You’re going to get yourself killed. You want me to watch you get killed. To prove something to your shitty family.”
“No. No, Ruben.” Panic now. “You have nothing to prove.”
“You think you do. It’s like you’re walking backwards. You can’t even see what’s in front of you ’cause you can’t stop watching what you left. You want to be exposed and shamed and drag them all down with you.” Ruben blinked. “And I’m part of that too. Looker, leaper. The dumb thug you fuck for kicks to rub it in their face. Bought and paid for.” He slapped at the tailored suit and the three-hundred-dollar tie.
Andy froze, pinned by the words and obviously upset. “Wait a minute. I never asked you to do anything crooked. I spent a month keeping my nose clean to protect you.”
“Revenge for growing up rich.”
Andy raised the glass, sloshing to the last bit of whiskey, and all his ice gone. “More like the horrible realization that being ‘most likely’ to do anything is a fucking curse, and that everyone is waiting nearby to help you into the mud.”
“Worst part, you think people saying mean shit to you in suburbia is the same thing brown kids get. Boo-hoo, you didn’t get a supermodel handjob when you went skiing in Aspen. Spoiled.”
The tic in Andy’s forehead firmed into a prominent vein. His jaw clamped into two ugly knots at each side of his scowl. He swayed on his feet by the spiral staircase leading up.
Run. Go now. Leave now. Ruben pressed his feet into the floor so the impulse didn’t take over.
“You know the price of everything and the value of nothing.” Andy’s bleary voice sliced like a sword.
“Jesus. Go ahead. Bait the cavemen, genius. Kill ’em all.” Ruben spat back at him. “Spend the rest of your life fucking your friends over, drinking for company, paying for sex.”
“Fuck you.” He swallowed that last mouthful of Scotch like it was worms and Drano. Medicinal reasons.
Ruben shook his head, but the thought stayed. “I need to leave. Now.”
Andy didn’t like that. “Where’re you gonna go?”