Layla's Score

by Andy Rausch

  He followed the voice. The fire was everywhere, and he could see nothing but glowing flames dancing madly around him. He continued his search, pressing on through the fire. Lefty and Layla continued to cry out for one another, back and forth, until Lefty located her. She was sitting on the floor, curled up, her hands squeezed tightly around her knees. She was crying. Lefty snatched her up, clutching her tightly to his chest. She whimpered as he did, saying nothing. He charged into the flames, running as quickly as he could. He could see the light of the entrance and windows ahead. He rushed towards it, trying to outrun the fire. He continued running, clutching Layla almost as tightly as she clutched him.

  At last they emerged, frightened but unscathed. Lefty comforted her. “Everything's gonna be okay,” he said. He held her tight, happy she was safe.

  Thirteen

  Places To Go, People To Kill

  Lefty ushered Layla into the Caddy, giving her a light push to encourage her to hurry. Orlando was on the passenger's side. Once they were all inside, Layla asked, “Where's Dixie and Brooks?”

  “They're gone,” said Lefty, pulling away from the curb. As he pulled into the street, several police cars sped past with their lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  “Where'd they go?” asked Layla.

  Orlando looked at Lefty, but Lefty ignored him.

  “They had shit to do,” said Lefty.

  “Will we see them again?”

  “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe someday.”

  Lefty contemplated Brooks' and Dixie's deaths and how close he'd come to losing Layla. He looked back in the rear-view. “How you feeling, Tator Tot?”

  “I feel good,” she said.

  “How old is she?” asked Orlando.

  “Seven,” said Lefty.

  “I had a daughter once. It was so long, long time ago.”

  A few minutes later they were in the gravel parking lot at Teaser's. There were a few cars scattered around, probably the same regulars Lefty had encountered the previous day. There were two black SUVs idling outside the entrance. Lefty looked at them as he parked out on the far edge of the lot.

  “What do you think that's about?” asked Orlando.

  “I guess we're gonna find out.” Lefty turned and looked at Layla. “You stay here. And this time, no matter what happens, you keep your butt in the car and you duck down out of sight. You understand?”

  Layla nodded.

  “Layla,” said Lefty, a sternness in his voice.

  The little girl looked up.

  “Are you sure you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “What are you gonna do?”

  Layla said, “Keep my butt in the car.”

  “And?”

  “Duck down out of sight.”

  Satisfied, Lefty and Orlando climbed out. When they did, they heard gunshots inside the club. The front door opened, and a goomba dressed in black came strolling out, looking around nonchalantly. Lefty and Orlando stood beside the Caddy, motionless, observing.

  A moment later several mobsters emerged behind the guy. They were momentarily oblivious to Lefty and Orlando. One of the mobsters shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he stepped out. The men approached the SUVs, preparing to board them, when one of them noticed Lefty and Orlando. He turned and spoke to another guy, now pointing at them. Lefty couldn't hear what was being said, but he knew it wasn't good. Within seconds all of the mobsters were staring at them, raising their pistols.

  “Oh goodie,” said Lefty.

  Orlando raised his Glock, the first man to open fire. His bullet struck one of the SUVs with a loud clang. Now the mobsters were firing back. “Let's get away from the car so they don't hit Layla!” said Lefty. They separated, still moving towards the strip club, doing a sort of half-run.

  Bullets were flying all around. Lefty took a shot, hitting a particularly fat goomba right in the center of his belly. “Ohhhh, I'm hit!” cried the man. “My belly, I'm hit!”

  None of the mobsters paid him any attention. They just went about their business, firing at Lefty and Orlando. One of the mobsters climbed into the driver's side of an SUV. A moment later, the SUV spun around, facing them. It came roaring towards them, attempting to run down Orlando. Orlando stood his ground, holding his gun steady. He popped off three shots in quick succession. The SUV swerved to its right, crashing into an ancient blue pickup. The SUV smoked a bit, but there was no fire or explosion.

  The vehicle obstructed Lefty's view of the mobsters. One of them came running around it, but Orlando shot him, hitting him center mass. The goomba toppled face-first into the gravel. Lefty broke into a sprint again, going around the wreckage. As he did, another mobster came into view. He was staring up at him. The guy started to raise his pistol, but Lefty popped off two shots, striking him in the chest, and the man went down. Orlando fired a couple shots around the other side of the wrecked SUV, but Lefty couldn't see if he hit anything. Then Orlando disappeared around the other side of the wreckage. Not to be outdone, Lefty sprinted around the left side. When he popped out on the other side, he saw the last three mobsters. Two of them were ducked behind the still-intact second SUV, firing at Orlando. The other guy was just standing there dumbly, watching. He looked up at Lefty just in time to see him fire a round through his eye. It was the last thing the poor sonofabitch ever saw.

  As the two remaining mobsters continued firing at Orlando from behind the SUV, he kept moving towards them. Now Lefty got into the act, striding towards them from the left. Both hitmen were firing at the goombas, their bullets striking the SUV. One of the mobsters ducked behind the vehicle, now out of sight. The other one kept firing at Orlando. Lefty shot the man in the side of his head. Just as he fell from sight, Orlando fired a shot that caused the SUV to explode. Lefty assumed the other mobster was dead from the explosion, but wasn't sure. As both he and Orlando moved in to investigate, the door to the strip club opened. Another mobster stood there, firing at them. Orlando turned and returned fire. His first shot struck the aluminum wall a foot to the left of the entrance, but his second shot hit the mobster square in the chest.

  Lefty approached the fiery SUV. As he came around its side, he now saw the last mobster lying on the ground, reaching for his pistol. Lefty walked towards him, stepping on his hand, bones crushing beneath his foot. The mobster groaned, Lefty still on his hand. Orlando now came around the flaming SUV from the opposite side, his Glock aimed at the man. Orlando let off a shot, striking him in the head.

  Lefty looked at Orlando. They nodded at one another, converging on the strip club. Orlando was the first one through the door. As they entered the dark club, the pulsing sound of techno music filled their ears. There were dead bodies sprawled out around the room. They made their way through the carnage, their Glocks at the ready ready.

  Lefty went to Frankie Gio's office, where he found the greasy little bastard tied to a chair. He'd been beaten to a pulp and then shot in the forehead. It was gonna be difficult to get their money from him now. Lefty looked around the office, which had been ransacked. He looked down at a small safe, sitting there open with some papers hanging out. Lefty turned and walked out. He looked at Orlando, surveying the main room, and then entered into the Champagne Room. There he saw the stripper who'd given Frankie the lap dance lying there covered in blood. Lefty wondered if Candi was safe. He didn't know why he cared, but he did. He returned to the front just in time to see another mobster emerge from the shadows behind Orlando. The mobster raised his pistol to the back of Orlando's head and squeezed the trigger.

  Click! Click!

  “Dammit,” said the mobster, holding up the pistol to examine it. By this time Orlando was turned towards him, confused.

  “What the hell, man?” asked Orlando.

  “I forgot to load the damn thing,” the mobster said sheepishly.

  Now Lefty was beside Orlando, both of them staring at the guy.

  “Who do you work for?” asked Orlando.

  The guy didn't even he
sitate. He gave up the information immediately. “I work for Bruno De Lorenzo,” he said nervously. “We were sent here to find out who put the hit on Bruno and to try and find the money if it was on the premises.”

  “Did you find it?” asked Orlando.

  “No,” said the man. “Bruno ordered us to kill Frankie when we were finished.”

  Lefty nodded. “I gathered that.”

  “From what?”

  “From the fact that Frankie Gio's brains are all over the walls of his office.”

  “Ah,” said the mobster, nodding.

  “So who put the hit out on Bruno?” asked Orlando.

  “Bruno's old man, Don Antonio.”

  “You must be a newbie,” said Lefty.

  “Yeah, I just started. My cousin Sal got me the job.” He turned and pointed towards the entrance. “Sal was probably one of the guys you shot outside. You know, big fat guy?”

  Lefty nodded. “Yeah, that was me. I shot him in that belly.”

  The mobster nodded, not seeming too broken up about it. “I never did like him much. He was always kind of a dick. One time when we were kids he poisoned my dog Benny, killed him dead as a Kennedy.” The mobster paused for a moment before lighting up. “Hey,” he said. “Before you guys take off, you gotta do me a solid.”

  Both hitmen stared at him in silence.

  “Since I told you what you wanted to know, you gotta beat the shit out of me so it doesn't look like I helped you,” said the mobster. “You know what I mean? I don't want Bruno pissed at me.”

  Lefty grinned. “I don't think Bruno's gonna be a problem.”

  “I can't take any chances,” the mobster said, not comprehending. “I need you guys to really do a number on me, really rough me up, okay?”

  Orlando shrugged and raised his Glock, firing a round into the guy's face. He turned and looked at Lefty, shrugging. “You think that classifies as roughed up?”

  Lefty laughed. He couldn't help it, he really liked this Orlando, even if he had shot him in the shoulder.

  “How we gonna get our money now?” asked Lefty.

  “I guess we gotta go get it from Don Antonio.”

  Lefty nodded in agreement. “How do we get to him?”

  “Hold on,” said Orlando, heading into Frankie Gio's office. He searched both Frankie's body and desk for his cell phone, but couldn't find it. Then he spotted an old-school Rolodex on the desk, sandwiched between an Al Kaline bobble head and a framed photo of Frankie posing with Ron Jeremy. Orlando leafed through the Rolodex, finding an entry for Antonio De Lorenzo. He then returned to Lefty. “I got the man's number,” he said, holding up the card. The two of them turned and stepped over dead strippers and customers, making their way back outside. There were no cops on the premises yet. Lefty looked out at the Caddy, still sitting there untouched. They walked out to the vehicle and climbed in.

  Layla was eager to see them. “I'm glad you're back, Daddy!”

  “I'm glad to see you, too, Tator Tot, but I need you to be quiet for a minute.”

  Orlando was on his phone, calling the number.

  A man answered. “Yeah?”

  “I need to talk to Don Antonio,” said Orlando.

  “Who's this?”

  “I'm the guy who killed Bruno De Lorenzo.”

  There was a long pause. “Hold on,” said the voice. There was an even longer pause now. Eventually the man came back and said, “I guess you want your money.”

  Orlando snickered. “I'm not in the business of killing for free.”

  To this the man said, “Riverside Marina at two o'clock. Slip 222. It's a yacht named 'The Don Quixote.' Name's painted on the back.”

  “The Don Quixote?”

  The man on the other end hung up.

  “What now?” asked Lefty.

  “We gotta meet 'em at Riverside Marina to get our money.”

  “When?”

  Orlando looked at the dash clock. “Hour and a half.”

  “Daddy,” said Layla.

  “Yes?”

  “I looked out the window and I saw you kill more people.”

  Lefty sighed. He didn't want her thinking killing was a normal activity, even if it was for him. “It's not a good thing to kill people.”

  “I know,” said Layla. “But they were bad guys, right?”

  Lefty sighed again, nodding. “They were bad.”

  Layla looked up at Orlando with big innocent eyes. “What's your name?”

  “My name's Orlando,” he said, grinning. “And I guess you're Tator Tot.”

  Layla frowned. “My name's not Tator Tot. Tator Tot would be a terrible name. Nobody is named Tator Tot!”

  Orlando smiled. “What's your name then?”

  “I'm Layla,” she said. “Like the song by the white guy.”

  Orlando smiled, remembering what it was like to talk to a child. “It's nice to meet you, Layla.”

  “It's nice to meet you, too, Orlando,” said Layla. “I like that name, 'Orlando'.”

  “Thank you. My mama and daddy gave it to me.”

  “I didn't know my mama,” said Layla. “She died when I was born.”

  Orlando nodded. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  Layla did a half-shrug. “Maybe she's up in the sky with Jesus.”

  Orlando nodded. “Maybe she is.”

  “Daddy doesn't believe in Jesus,” said Layla.

  “He doesn't?” asked Orlando. “How about you? Do you believe in Jesus?”

  “Not really. I think he's made up like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I think people pretend he's real to make themselves feel better. I think it makes them happy to believe there's a guy in the sky trying to help us.”

  “You don't believe there's a god who helps us?”

  Layla shook her head. “Nope.” She looked at Orlando solemnly. “Do you believe there's an Easter Bunny that helps us?”

  Orlando laughed. “No,” said Orlando, “I don't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the Easter Bunny isn't real.”

  “Exactly,” said Layla, staring down at her book.

  Orlando looked at Lefty, who was looking in the rear-view, grinning.

  “Smart kid you got,” said Orlando.

  “I hate to sound cocky and agree with you, but you're right.”

  “Orlando?” said Layla, looking at him.

  Orlando turned to look at her. “Yes, Layla?”

  “You said you had a little girl. What happened to her? Did she grow up?”

  Orlando's expression changed immediately, going from happy to sad. He tried to hide it, but even Layla saw it.

  “You look sad,” she said. “What's wrong?”

  “My little girl went to heaven,” said Orlando.

  “Maybe she's with mommy.”

  Orlando nodded. “I like to think so.”

  “How did she die?”

  Lefty stopped her, looking in the mirror. “Layla, we don't ask things like that. It's not polite.”

  “No,” said Orlando. “It's okay. She can ask.” He looked at Layla. “She was going to school one day and she got hit by a car, right in front of the school.”

  Layla's eyes got big. “She did?”

  Orlando nodded. “She did.”

  “What was your daughter's name?”

  “Her name was Keisha.”

  “That's a pretty name.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I thought so, too.”

  “How old was she?”

  “She was seven.”

  Layla lit up. “She was the same age as me!”

  Orlando nodded, trying to hide his sadness.

  Layla became serious again. “Do you miss her?”

  “All the time,” said Orlando. “I used to go visit her grave”

  “Why don't you now?”

  “I live a long way away now.”

  “Why did you move?”

  “It's complicated.”

  Layla nodded. “I know what that means.”

/>   “What does that mean?”

  “Daddy says 'it's complicated' when it's a grown-up thing he doesn't want to talk about.”

  Both Lefty, in the mirror, and Orlando, in the passenger's seat, laughed.

  “You believe in God?” asked Layla.

  Orlando paused, still looking at her. He considered his words. “I don't know,” he said. “But I want to believe. I'm not sure any of it makes sense—people living in whales and that Noah's Ark stuff—but if there is a God, then that means my Keisha is alive.”

  Layla looked confused. “Alive?”

  “Not alive, but up there in heaven.”

  Layla nodded. “With Mommy. And Jesus.” She paused for a moment before adding, “And all those bad people you and my daddy killed.”

  Lefty rolled his eyes. He really hated hearing those words and was starting to regret telling Layla what he did. It went against every rule in the book, but Lefty wanted to be transparent. At least to a point. He wasn't gonna tell her he'd murdered her parents, but he also wasn't gonna lie about who he was.

  Layla was sitting there contemplating all this. Finally, after a moment, she said, “I hope those bad guys aren't in heaven with Keisha and Mommy and Jesus.”

  “Why's that?” asked Orlando.

  “They were mean,” said Layla. “I don't want Keisha and Mommy and Jesus to have to shoot them in their heads because they're being bad. I don't think they would wanna do that.”

  Orlando looked at her. “Do you think Jesus would shoot them?”

  Layla pondered this. “Yeah, if they were gonna hurt someone he loved, like maybe his daddy, then he would have to do whatever was necessary to protect them. It's like Brooks said, Jesus would have to blow their cunt asses away.”

  Fourteen

  The Don Quixote

  They arrived at the marina a little bit early, allowing them time to figure out the layout and locate the boat. Both men agreed that Layla didn't need to be present for the meeting. Because Lefty didn't want Orlando to run off with the money, he wanted to be there. Because Orlando didn't want Lefty to abscond with the money, he agreed to watch Layla. There was a grassy hill next to a shop overlooking the marina. They found a picnic table there, and sat to wait until it was time for the meeting. The idea was that Orlando and Layla would sit atop this hill while Lefty went down and met with Don De Lorenzo or whatever goons he sent with the money.