We kissed. Her lips tasted like raspberries. I watched her sashay out the door. Then I walked over to the nearly empty bourbon bottle. For a second I thought about just guzzling it straight from the bottle, but I’m not an animal. I splashed the last of the bourbon into one of the heavy glass tumblers and chugged it. Then I went down the stairs to meet Cassandra and Eddie.
Eddie’s guy Josh had already pulled the car around. The coal-black Lexus was waiting for us in the alley behind Eddie’s building. It was the end of June, which in theory was the start of summertime, but the cold night air was still slicing right through my jacket. Josh slapped the keys into Eddie’s hand, and then Eddie, Cassandra, and I bundled into the car. The inside of Eddie’s Lexus was impeccably clean. The interior smelled like spearmint gum. We all buckled up and Eddie revved the engine. We rumbled through the alley, past the graffiti and the garbage cans. Then we headed south on side streets over to Sullivan. We cut across the northbound lanes of Spadina and headed south again, past the late-night crowds and neon signs and stacks of garbage, down to the Gardiner.
The expressway took us east. Eddie grinned. “Did I ever tell you about my time as a street racer?”
“Yeah. Plenty.”
Cassandra leaned forward. “You never told me.”
Eddie looked up at the rear-view and winked at Cassie. “I was fast, man. In another life, I could’ve been a pro. Back when I was younger, my friends and I would blast souped-up Honda Civics across empty highways at three in the morning. Then one night, this guy I was racing took a turn too fast.” Eddie shook his head sadly. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “That guy died. Me, I wanted to stay alive.”
Cassandra tilted her chin toward the cigarette in Eddie’s hand. “Then you should throw those things in the garbage.”
Eddie grunted. “That’s what my daughter says, too.”
“She’s right.”
Eddie tossed the cigarette out the window and gunned the engine. The expressway rose up on big concrete pillars. Down below and to the right was the lake. The moonlight glinted off the water.
I peeked back at Cassandra. She was sitting straight up, looking prim and proper in her black turtleneck and grey blazer, as if she were on her way to a job interview. She saw me looking at her and gave me a nod. The nod was strangely formal. I nodded back and then looked straight ahead at traffic.
She had walked out on me ten years ago. I hadn’t seen her since, until tonight. What had happened in those ten years? I didn’t know much. She played cards, she met Anton, her hand got burned. Maybe that was all I needed to know. That and the fact that she owed Anton six large. Still, I couldn’t help being curious. A lot could happen in ten years.
We headed north on the DVP. We drove in silence until Eddie reached down and turned on the radio. Mellow jazz filled the car. We sailed on, past the Aga Khan Museum. I had never been, but I heard it was nice. Tapestries and mosaics, stuff like that.
We left the DVP and went east on the 401. Fifteen minutes later, we left the highway and hit the side streets. Ten minutes after that, we were at the safe house.
We stepped out of the car and into the cool night air. Maybe it was my imagination, but the air smelled fresher here. More grass, less concrete. The safe house driveway shone black beneath the street lights. It had recently been redone. Eddie knew a driveway guy.
Eddie, Cassandra, and I walked up to the porch and Eddie knocked on the door. Cousin Vin opened the door. Vin shifted, revealing the gun in his left hand, which he had been holding behind the door. He tucked the pistol into his pants. “Hiya, Jack. How’s tricks?”
“Silly Vin. Tricks are for kids.”
Vin frowned. “That’s the rabbit cereal, right? I mean with the cartoon rabbit, not, like, actually made from rabbits.”
“Two scoops of rabbits in Kellogg’s Rabbit Bran.” I stepped past Vin into the living room.
Eddie had bought this place for a song back in the Toronto housing bust of the early 1990s. His Aunt Cecilia’s name was on the lease. She was never here, though, and that was a good thing. She was a tough old broad who had raised six kids. All six of them had grown up to be gangsters. Aunt Cecilia herself sat at the top of a numbers-running racket. I saw her sometimes at Eddie’s get-togethers. She kept to herself in a quiet corner of the yard, just her and her phone and her pad of paper. Making calls, taking bets.
Cassandra stood in the living room of the safe house and glanced around. I watched her as she took it all in. “Well, this is cute.”
I had no idea who decorated the house. Maybe it was Eddie himself. I’d have to ask him sometime. Whoever it was had really done a bang-up job. It looked exactly like a little old lady actually lived there. All the lamps and the tables and the chairs were at least thirty years old. The TV looked prehistoric, like an appliance from The Flintstones. There were vases stuffed with dried flowers as far as the eye could see. Framed family photos were scattered about on the end tables and the walls. I didn’t recognize any of the people. For all I knew, the pictures had come with the frames. There were a few dolls and stuffed animals on the pale-pink couch. The place even smelled old.
I pointed down the hall. “Bedroom’s that way. There’s another TV and some DVDs. You ever see The River Wild? I think that’s in there.”
Cassandra smiled. “I always think Laura Dern is in that movie. But she isn’t.”
“Meryl Streep,” Vin chimed in. We all turned toward him. Vin suddenly looked sheepish. “She’s good in it, too,” he muttered.
Cassandra and I walked down the hallway to the bedroom. The bedroom was small and sparse: a double bed topped with an orange comforter, a dresser with a television on top, a nightstand with a clock radio and another vase stuffed with dried flowers. Cassandra picked up a stack of DVDs from the dresser and flipped through them. “You guys need to modernize. Everything’s on Netflix now.”
“Hopefully you won’t be here long enough for binge watching.”
Cassandra sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked up at me with her dark eyes. “Go on, say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say I’m an idiot. Say I never should’ve gone into business with Anton.”
I shook my head. “That doesn’t matter now. The important thing is what comes next.”
Cassie looked down at her burned hand. “I should’ve walked away from Anton a long time ago. But I just couldn’t do it.”
“Why not? You did it to me.”
Cassandra flinched. Instantly I wished I could press a button and rewind time. “Shit. Sorry.”
Cassandra straightened up. “No. I’m glad you brought it up. We had to talk about it sooner or later. I’m not ashamed of what I did. Leaving you took a lot of courage. You’re a violent man, Jack. A lot of women get killed trying to leave violent men.”
I blinked. “You thought I was going to kill you?”
“I didn’t know. That was the scary part.”
“I would never have hurt you.”
“I know.” Cassandra looked away. “But then again, that’s what they all say.”
CHAPTER 4
I woke up hungover, but that was nothing new. I peeled myself off the couch, stumbled over to my tiny office bathroom, and splashed some cold water on my face. I filled up my chipped white mug and drank deep. Bit by bit, I was starting to feel halfway human.
Sunlight was pouring through my office windows. The red digital numbers on my clock radio said 10:20 a.m. I walked over to my desk and pulled a cheap burner phone out of the top drawer. I punched in Cassandra’s number. “How’d you sleep?” I asked.
“Like a baby — by which I mean I woke up crying every fifteen minutes.” Cassandra laughed. “I’m just kidding. I slept fine. You?”
I glanced over at the blue couch where I had passed out last night. “Just fine. I’ll come pick you up, okay? Let’s grab some brunch.” Back when we were dating, we’d never had brunch. Two a.m. diner eats were more our thing. Brunch was for p
eople who woke up in the morning. “I need you to tell me where Anton hangs out.”
“He’s usually —”
“Not on the phone. Tell me when I see you.”
We said our goodbyes, then I called Melody. The phone rang five times before she picked up. “Hello?”
I could hear the sleep in her voice. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Aw, Jack, what the fuck, man? What time is it?”
“It’s almost ten-thirty.”
“You never made it to the club last night.”
“Something came up with my client.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going in for the lunchtime rush today. Give me a lift?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I heard Melody inhale and then exhale — her first cigarette of the morning. “My hero. You just saved me cab fare.” I could practically hear her grinning over the phone.
I said goodbye, hung up, and slid the burner back into the desk drawer. The timing would be tight, but if I hustled I could do it. I reached for my jacket and headed out the door.
Eddie let me borrow a car. Not the Lexus. Only he drove that. Cassandra came bursting out of the safe house as soon as I pulled into the drive. Vin poked his head around the door and scanned the street. He saw me and nodded. I nodded back and Vin’s head disappeared.
Cassandra slid into the passenger seat and held out her burned hand. “Jack.”
I shook her hand gingerly. Another strangely formal greeting. “Cassandra.”
“You don’t have to worry.” She held her hand up. “It doesn’t hurt. Not anymore.”
“You ever gonna tell me what happened?”
“Probably.” Cassandra smiled. “One of these days.” She looked down at her outfit. The same black turtleneck, grey blazer, and black pants from yesterday. “I need to go shopping at some point and get some clean clothes.”
“I could run back to your place and pick something up.”
Cassandra shook her head. “Anton was putting me up in a hotel. Nothing fancy, but it was a roof over my head. I can’t go back there, though.” Cassandra plucked her sleeve. “These will be all right for one more day.”
I looked down at my jacket and black pants. I was wearing my yesterday clothes, too.
Cassandra gave my outfit the once-over. “You can pull off that rumpled look. Me, not so much.”
“You look …” Adorable, I’d been about to say. I choked off the word before it left my mouth. “Fine. You look fine.”
“I’m starving.”
“Then let’s go eat.”
There was a little family-run diner a few blocks from the safe house. They had breakfast, fresh fruit, all that good shit.
Our server poured coffee. She was beautiful. She was young and healthy and she glowed. I felt like a troll that had just crawled out from under a bridge. We ordered our food and the server sashayed away. I sipped slowly, feeling that hot rush of caffeine. Ah, caffeine. The most socially acceptable drug there is.
We sat in silence for a while. All around us, people talked and laughed. Silverware clattered. People typed on laptops and stared at their phones. Our server brought the food. Cassandra pushed bits of blueberry pancake around on her plate. I had a bowl of oatmeal because I was serious about my health and a side of bacon because I wasn’t that serious. I wiped oatmeal off my face with a scratchy paper napkin. Cassandra glanced toward the window, then back at me.
“So. Anton.”
I waited. Cassie exhaled, long and low. “He lives downtown, I think. One night he took me to a penthouse down at Queen’s Quay. He didn’t say, but I got the impression it was his.” Cassandra looked down at her plate and then back at me. “He’s out of the country a lot. He might be a hard guy to find.”
I took a sip of coffee. “I’ll find him.” I leaned forward, my eyes locked on to Cassandra. “We’ll have to work out a payment plan. He’s not going to let you skate on the money.”
Cassandra looked down. She twisted the paper napkin in her hands. “I know. I, uh … I was hoping to borrow some from you.”
I blinked. “You think I’ve got six large?”
“Well. I was kind of hoping.”
I just stared at her. She reached across the table and took my hand. “I know what you’re thinking. Here comes this broad you haven’t seen in a decade. And now she’s asking you to help her out of a jam and, oh by the way, can she borrow six hundred thousand dollars?” Cassandra nodded to herself. “I know it doesn’t look good. But what can I do? I’m out of options here, Jack.”
I pulled my hand away. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Eddie …”
I set down my coffee cup. “Eddie’s cash flow is tight. Even if he had the cash, he’s not going to just let you walk off with six large.”
Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not walking anywhere. I’m good for it, Jack.” She pushed her plate away. “I’d rather owe the money to Eddie than to Anton.”
“Eddie’s got silent partners. They don’t lend money.” My eyes flickered down to her burned hand. I looked away. “Anton isn’t going to let you go easily.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.”
“What exactly do you want me to do, Cassie? Threaten him? Punch him in the face? Dangle his ass off a rooftop?”
She smiled. “Just his ass?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know, Jack. I just — I don’t know, okay? Talk to him. Make him go away.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
I reached over the table and gave her arm an awkward pat. “We’re going to work it out.” My eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I gotta go.”
“Can I come, too?” Cassandra grimaced. “The safe house is nice and all, but after awhile it feels like the walls are closing in.”
“I get that.” I thought back to my time in prison. Those nights when the cell walls started to crush me like the trash compactor in Star Wars. “I’m picking up the woman I’m seeing. Gonna give her a ride to work.”
Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. If you think I should —”
“No, no —”
“Because I could stay …”
“It’s okay.” I grinned. “Who knows, maybe you guys will hit it off.”
We climbed back into Eddie’s car and buckled up. I stomped on the accelerator and we sailed down toward Queen and Pape. It was going to take about thirty minutes. If we hit the lights just right, I’d be on time to pick up Melody.
I glanced over at Cassandra. “So. What’ve you been up to for the past ten years?”
She smiled her sad crooked half smile. “Just sum up a decade, huh? I bet I can do it in three words. ‘This and that.’”
“C’mon. You can do better than that.”
“I’ve been playing poker, Jack. After I left you and moved out of my place, I hit the road and headed south. I stayed away from Vegas because Vegas was too obvious. I went to Mississippi and hit the riverboat circuit.” She shook her head. “It’s not glamorous. The days of petticoats and handlebar moustaches are long gone. But there’s poker games in them thar riverboats, and you know a gal’s gotta earn a living.”
“When did you meet Anton?”
Cassie was quiet for a while. “It seems like a million years ago. Other times, it seems like it was just yesterday.”
“But —”
“About three years ago.” Cassandra raised her burned hand to her mouth and bit her nails. “I was in a tough spot and he helped me out.”
Cassandra fell silent. I knew enough not to push further. Instead, I turned on the radio. Funky New Orleans jazz filled the car. Trombone Shorty’s cover of “Here Come the Girls.”
We rumbled across Queen Street East and then turned south on Pape. We passed tumbledown duplexes with crooked concrete stairs and weeds poking through the cracks. There was a public housing unit on the other side of the street. Farther south at Pape and Eastern was a movie studio where no doubt some quality entertainment
was being churned out right this minute. I screeched the car to a halt.
Cassandra glanced out the window. “This is Melody’s place?”
“Yep.” I pointed to a tidy semi-detached house on the west side of the street. “That’s her house right there.”
“You and Melody. How long’s that been going on?”
“Not long. Three months. I was doing some security at the club where she works.” Silence hung heavy in the car. “So, uh … you dating anyone?”
Cassandra shook her head. “Nope. Not right now.”
I peered out the car windows. I didn’t see any signs of trouble. Farther up the street, a kid was riding his bike in slow, lazy circles. A man and a woman were walking south. The woman was carrying a bag from the liquor store. The man held some records under his arm. I had a feeling their day was going to be a lot better than mine.
The door to Melody’s duplex banged open and a scraggly man in a stained white undershirt and droopy cargo shorts came storming out. The man was clutching a cardboard box in his hands. He thudded down the porch steps, walked to the sidewalk, and slammed down his box. He reached into it and pulled out an old-fashioned answering machine and a hammer. He then proceeded to beat the shit out of the answering machine. Bits of the machine flew up into the air.
Cassandra frowned. “What the hell?”
I was wondering the same thing. The door opened again and Melody stepped out onto the porch. She was wearing big clunky sunglasses with white frames, tight black yoga pants, and a T-shirt with a silkscreened picture of a cat on it. She stood watching the man smash up the answering machine for a minute, then she leaned against the porch railing and lit up a cigarette.
Box Man kicked broken answering machine bits into the road, then picked up his box and walked across the street. He pulled a screwdriver out of the box and dropped it down a sewer grate. Then he pulled out a pair of pliers and dropped them down into the sewer as well. Then he put what looked like a bright-orange tape measure onto the sewer grate and started bashing it to bits with the hammer.
Cassandra and I kept watching. She turned to me. “Is he destroying evidence?”
Carve the Heart Page 2