Hell Chose Me

by Angel Luis Colón

  “…for money…street whore.”

  “That actually makes sense. Everything I did, I did for money. But wasn’t there a good reason toward the end? Wasn’t it for you? No. It was my choice to keep you hooked up. My choice to unplug the machines too. Nobody did a slight to you but me. Is that what I need to face?”

  He stays quiet.

  “I don’t have an answer for any of this. I have no idea.” I lean my head to the side. The water feels good against the back of my neck. “I mean, I made the choice. Nobody really forced me to get into this business.”

  “…reality…”

  “The reality, the reality.” I let that roll over my brain some. “It’s deeper than family problems—than any normal hang-up. Maybe I was born all broken up and between Grandpa, that damn war, and Ireland, I opened the floodgates to crazy town. I can spend years trying to figure that all out, but I don’t have time for that. I have to accept it.”

  Liam stands and smiles down at me.

  “This is a good thing isn’t it? I know where I stood, and I know where I can stand.”

  “…good…”

  I ignore the refrain. I don’t need to hear the record skip again and again. This is all down to me. Nobody to blame. Nobody to lean on. Danny and his stooges—they’ll put a bullet in me as quick as I would have once upon a time. I’m sick of it, though. “I thought I was a bad guy—a monster. I tried to play that angle, but I screwed that up too. I was wrong. Not about being bad. I own that—I did bad things. Just never let myself believe I could change that.”

  Liam’s gone. It’s me and the empty bathroom, but there’s clarity. Not like I’m cured of being me, but maybe this is what people call “focus.”

  “So this is the road to recovery, blubbering in the shower and talking to invisible people I killed?” There’s no clue as to whether I’m right about this, but I finally think I know what I want to do and how I need to do it. I’ll work with these people, watch my back, but I’ll cooperate. When I get my chance, I’ll make Paulie and Sean pay, but on my own damn terms—not theirs.

  I stand and finally bathe myself. Scrub clean ten times over, even my hurt ear. Cut the water off and find a towel draped over the shower rod I hadn’t noticed before. Dry up and slip on the new clothes Ayah left behind. Find some gauze and tape in the medicine cabinet and dress my ear after applying an obscene amount of peroxide and Bactrim to the wounded bits.

  I step out into the living room. TV is on. News. They’re detailing the explosion at the Kozy that left twelve dead. Eleven men and one woman—all unidentified. Ayah leans against the wall nursing a bowl of macaroni and tuna fish. She watches the set as if they’re reading off her favorite lottery numbers and she never played them.

  “Fuck, you think—”

  “Ian and Blacky are fine,” she interrupts.

  “Blacky? You mean Danny?”

  “Danny,” she says with a full mouth. “We call him Blacky.”

  “Sure, makes sense.” No, it doesn’t.

  Ayah nods to a bowl set for me on the coffee table. I stare at it.

  Ayah watches me. “Poison isn’t my style.”

  “I wouldn’t know that.”

  She rolls her eyes and continues eating. “Do what you need to. I’m hungry and not in the mood to cater to your paranoia.”

  I give in to my growling stomach and scoop the bowl up. Take a seat across from Ayah, but as far away as I can. The news is showing an artist’s sketch of the two suspects that fled the scene. Two men, one a caricature of Ian and the other nothing close to Danny.

  “So no one saw us leave.” I shove a forkful of dinner into my mouth. It’s flavorless. The exact kind of dinner someone as young as her would slap together in fifteen minutes.

  “No,” Ayah answers.

  “At least Ian is famous now.” There’s a glass of water on the coffee table. Take the hint that’s for me too, so I take a big sip of it. Spot a pill next to the coaster my glass was on. Eye it, then push it to the side with a finger. I don’t need to self-medicate and I certainly don’t need to be high around this girl.

  “Guess so.” Ayah turns to me. “You talk to yourself.”

  My stomach knots. “Um…sorry?” There goes me not giving a damn.

  “You were speaking to yourself in the shower. In whispers.” She takes another bite of her food. “You did it in the van too.”

  I keep eating.

  She raises a hand. “No judgment, I just noticed it.”

  “Okay.” My eyes stay on my food.

  Ayah looks back to the television. “My sister did it all the time. Sometimes I think I do it too. Maybe it’s how we deal with all of…this.” She frowns. “This Paulie, your old handler. Are you going to kill him?”

  I place my bowl down. Lick my lips clean. “I haven’t decided yet. I don’t think I’d like to, though.”

  “If you don’t do it, I will.” Ayah walks back into the kitchen. The sink goes on and I hear the clink of dishes. “Rinse out the bowl when you’re finished. Tuna stinks.”

  I look at my dinner. Not so hungry anymore with talk of Paulie. It’s one thing to talk to the ghost in my head, but a live person makes it real. But that’s exactly what Liam said, that’s exactly what I need to face. I look back to the TV. They’ve moved on to a human-interest piece on a lion, tiger, and bear and their bullshit “special bond.” I find the remote and shut it off. Sit down and finish the rest of my water.

  “Liam, I know you can hear me.” I lean forward and whisper. “And you know what? It’s okay if you hate me.”

  23

  Ayah shakes me awake. The only light in the living room is the cable box time display. It reads 3:30 a.m.

  First instinct is to dig under my pillow and pull a gun, but I’ve been unarmed. I still move to lift my arm up, but Ayah’s smart—got it gripped to ensure I don’t punch her. This has been our pattern the past two weeks. Every move makes us bristle. Unfortunately, I need to be a little less severe since I’m the one without heat.

  “What?” I lift my head off the arm of the love seat that’s been my bed all this time. Blink a few times before my eyes stop burning.

  “They’re on their way.” Ayah’s dressed.

  “Who is?”

  “Ian and Blacky.” She walks over to the window nearest me. Raises the blinds about a quarter of the way up.

  I sit up. Rub the sleep from my eyes. “I honestly didn’t think they’d show up anytime soon. Started thinking you were waiting for the word.”

  Ayah moves around the apartment and turns on lights. Ignores the kitchen and bathroom. Only turns on one lamp in the bedroom.

  She motions to the lamp when she sees me watching. “We have a code.”

  “Okay?” I lean back and roll my neck—still stiff. “What would it mean if you turned on the bathroom light?”

  “A trap.”

  “Kitchen light?”

  “It never goes on. If it did, either I’m dead or not here and someone else is.”

  “Shit, maybe you could have clued me in on that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been getting up and turning lights on and everything. Maybe I held them up.” Some of the nightmares I have, it helps to keep the lights on. Feels childish, but whatever works.

  Ayah shakes her head. “Doubt it.”

  My side hurts. I look over and realize I was sleeping on one Ayah’s thicker comic book collections. I fling it to the ground.

  “I thought I told you,” Ayah says as she stomps over. “If you keep mistreating my books, you’re cut off.” She picks the anthology up. Inspects it for wear and tear.

  “Sorry, sorry. Brain’s not all the way on yet.” I scratch the stubble on my neck. “Not for nothing, but you dog-eared all of these, not me.”

  “I bought them with my money. I can do what I want with them.” She motions to the bathroom. “Go get dressed.”

  I do as told, not in the mood to
argue. When I get to the bathroom, I hear three quick knocks at the front door followed by two slower ones. I’m not surprised they have a code for the door too. Get myself in order and walk on back to the living room. It’s tighter now that Danny and Ian are occupying it. Obviously, they’re seated on the love seat. No chance of sneaking in the rest of my sleep.

  “Hey.” I give them a wave. “Figured you both ran off to parts unknown.”

  Danny stands with a wide smile. Gives me a long, uncomfortable—for me—hug. “Glad to see you both doing all right.” He pats my back with his big, calloused hands. “Nice to socialize without the danger of impending fucking death on our heads.”

  I’m not thrilled with the aloof bullshit. Can’t shake the idea he’s trying to keep me at ease. How anyone would feel easy in this situation is beyond me and keeps the alarms blaring in my head. May as well play along until the shoe drops. I nod to Ian from Danny’s shoulder. “How’s your arm?”

  He gives a weak smile. “Better, thanks.” I can tell Ian’s making the brave face—the bastard’s clearly uncomfortable. Still, I can see the piece under his jacket, so he’s at least got some greater measure of security than I do.

  I disengage from Danny and take a seat on a recliner across from them. “At least everyone’s in one piece. Thanks for helping me out before.”

  “No need to thank.” Danny sits down. He crosses his legs and leans back. He’s wearing a Smiths’ T-shirt under a bomber jacket covered in punk patches. There’s about a dozen bands on there I haven’t thought of in decades—decades. He’s wearing spiked rings on each finger. He straightens up and clears his throat. “Right, well, Ian and I have been busy.” Danny fishes a small pile of papers from his inside pocket. Tosses them on the coffee table. “Menus and cards for about six different hotels in the city. Our man Paulie’s been to each one over the past two weeks.”

  I scoop up the papers and flip through them. Nothing fancy or unique. All little rat holes and the occasional name I recognize—for bad reasons. “Feds are keeping him on the move.”

  “He knows we survived his bullshit wank fest. Probably bleeding information at this point.” Danny plays with a frayed mark on his jeans. “He knows enough to keep them interested, but not to get us found.”

  “Do you think he has anything meaty? Can’t imagine he knows a damn thing about Irish business.”

  Danny points a finger at me. “Good point, but your uncle’s had a hand in filth across the Atlantic as well. McLean Avenue alone.”

  “So, most of the off-the-boat bruisers popping up were all on his payroll? Settling old scores, then? I mean, if he moved on, why would he care?” Unless he wanted to avoid having to pay for transgressions for decades ago. Crazy and old, who knew, maybe the bastard could only remember atrocities he okayed in the seventies.

  Danny scratches the back of his head. “We don’t know until we ask Paulie.”

  Ayah slips on her jacket and walks to the side door. “Do you need me here?”

  Danny shakes his head. “No. We can handle ourselves. If you’d like to take a walk, go for it.” He smiles at her softly.

  She nods and leaves.

  I wait a few beats; look to the door and back to Danny. “What the story with this? Seriously, I’m on fucking eggshells.”

  Ian shifts in his seat. Leans over and grabs the remote. Turns the TV on and takes his attention away from us.

  Danny shrugs. “The girls? I found them that way. Family was refugees out of Kuwait during the mess yah ran from. Far as I know, every dime I’ve paid them goes right back home.”

  “How old is Ayah?”

  “No idea. Doesn’t really matter either.”

  “She seems so young, but…Christ, if you’d have seen her at the Kozy.”

  Danny nods. “Scary, right? That fucking blade. First time I saw it in action got the shakes almost as bad as the day you perished old Collins.”

  I look to the TV. Old infomercial about a handheld blender is on. Someone’s impressed at another person’s smoothie-making skills. “I suppose it’s all better left unsaid. The scary stories, that is.”

  “Suppose so.” Danny lights a cigarette. “Have you decided on that last gig?”

  He keeps making me feel so damn comfortable and then I snap back to this mess. It only serves to put me further one edge. I click my teeth. “You said Paulie’s got himself a traveling government garrison.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t say he was unreachable. Matter of fact, the downtime you had was footwork for Ian and me. We weren’t playing with our fucking bollocks.”

  “All right, so what did you find out?”

  He leans in. Blows some smoke over my shoulder. “Sounds like they’re switching off to a safe house in the East Village this week. Apparently, there was a small disruption at the last hotel they stayed.” He grins. “Something about a pipe bomb. Didn’t go off, but definitely raised some neck hairs.”

  A part of me wishes he’d set it off. Maybe the Paulie problem could have been solved that way. “Why not finish it there?”

  “I’m not about to set off an explosive in New York, Mutters. I’d be fucking hung off the Brooklyn Bridge.” Danny laughs. “Anyway, this move is a little better. They figure it puts them in a less congested part of the city with less to damage.”

  “How’s the East Village any better? There’s still wall-to-wall people.”

  “Alphabet City. The projects off Tenth.”

  I sigh. “The collateral damage only affects the poor or brown, so they’re fine with that.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Adorable.”

  “Far as I know, the move happens very soon. Not sure if they plan to make this a last stop before transferring Paulie somewhere out of the state, but I have a feeling that’s going to be the case.”

  “So, my time’s up. I need to make the call.”

  Danny leans in. “That’s the short of it.”

  I lean forward. Rub my temples. Something itches at the nape of my neck. The room seems darker. “I can’t walk away. You said it already. I clean the slate with Sean and the bullshit hard stops.” I’m still mystified my uncle has this much pull. “How old is Sean by now? You’d think he was dead.”

  “Probably pushing eighty.”

  So he’s too old to know any better than what he already knows. Men that old have a hard time making any changes. “Yeah, he won’t let go if there’s an itch of a doubt about me.”

  Danny arches a brow. “So, you’re in?”

  The darkness passes. I hear murmurs coming from behind me—a cold breath on my neck. If this all passes over, I think I might pick up a weed habit. Maybe that’ll tone my brain down. “I’m in. One question, though. What’s the vendetta against Sean about?”

  “I’d rather not discuss it.” Danny frowns. “Apologies for being evasive. Just not ready to get into the meat of it. Not until I can look him in the eye again.” His eyes spark with anger as he thinks about whatever the stakes are for him. I always knew Sean to be a bastard, but Danny enjoyed working for him back in the day. Whatever happened, it was deeply personal.

  “Maybe that’s for the best. I’m okay with that.” I can’t push it. We’re on shaky ground to begin with. Well, at least I am. I can’t shake Danny’s penchant for flip-flopping from nice guy to violent psychopath. Maybe he ain’t as bad as me, but he’s got that demon inside him too.

  “Thanks. Thanks for that.” Danny looks at his feet. Reaches down and wipes off the toe of his sneakers.

  I slap a hand on my lap. “So we work together. Once we’re done, what then?”

  Ian cuts the TV off. Starts paying attention again. Danny stands up and wanders into the kitchen. Returns with three beers and pops them open with a bottle opener clipped to his belt. “For one, beer.” He sits down and take a pull from the bottle. “Planning. Well, I was thinking of some old-school-level fuckery. Ian and I handle a diversion; you and Ayah go on in and cut the head off
quick and dirty.” He points at me. “If all goes well, you go off and do your own damn thing.”

  I sip my beer. Ignore how skunked it is. “I’m supposed to believe that? We’re playing lose with the feds, planning on making a scene in NYC of all places. I’ll be honest; I’m thinking you’ll cut your losses with me in a heartbeat.”

  Danny smiles. “Which is aligned with my own thoughts, Mutters. Probably for the best too. We know what we’re capable of.” Lights another cigarette. “As for the law, they’re flying by the fucking seat of their pants. I whip up a little chaos and there’s not much you won’t be able to accomplish. Shit, Ian, how many boys did we see with him last?”

  Ian shrugs. “Six at most.”

  Danny pats Ian on the shoulder. “See? Six. He ain’t as VIP as he thinks.” He takes another pull from his beer. “I cause a stir; I can probably pull three away. You won’t even have to kill the other three. In and out, boom, boom, boom.” He snaps his fingers at each boom. “Still, yeah, if you’re a rogue element, I’ll absolutely cut the loss.”

  So we’re at an understanding. I can live with that. “Seems like a lot of busy work for a small group. Ayah handled as much on her own before.”

  Ayah comes back in to the apartment. A white paper bag tucked under her arm. She sits cross-legged on the floor. “Come up with a plan?” She thumbs through a circular.

  Danny leans over and snatches a comic from her pile. “We were discussing the merits of a distraction prior to going after Paulie.”

  “How many men?” She doesn’t look up. Snatches the comic back from Danny.

  “Maybe six or seven all together,” I answer.

  “I can do that alone.” She looks to Danny. “Seems like overkill.”

  “Exactly what I said.” I point to Ayah. “She’s the smartest one in the room.”

  Danny rolls his eyes. Sips his beer. “So we should hang back?”

  “Or provide support. Your old employer is still sending people after us. They might find out what we’re going to do and surprise us.” Ayah digs into her pile.

  “How long do we have until Paulie’s moved again?” I side-eye movement to my right. Liam’s seated near the television and inspecting the lot of us.