The Corruption Within

by Ty Griffin

  I was gnawing at that bone while taking out the trash that night, deep in my own thoughts. Which is probably why I did not hear anyone walking up behind me until, from only a few feet away, I heard someone say, “Yo, homes.”

  I jumped and dropped the bags of garbage. On instinct, I spun around, clenching my fists, preparing for a fight. I saw Barnett standing, hands in the air and a mocking smile on his face. Behind him stood two Nephilim-looking men, both several inches taller than me.

  One was definitely of Hispanic heritage and was simply large all the way around. He had thick arms and shoulders and a big round gut. He didn’t have the defined muscle of a weight lifter like Barnett but held himself as someone with the strength that comes from pure mass.

  The other man had dark skin, large, wide-set eyes, and a flat nose. He was more barrel-chested than the other two. He looked like someone who used to train heavily for high school sports, maybe football or hockey, but had lost the discipline of it. Nevertheless, he retained enough size and strength to motivate most people to give him a wide berth.

  “Easy there, bro,” Barnett said, a laugh barely concealed beneath his words. “I just want to talk, ya know?”

  I forced myself to stand still, using every ounce of will I had to not show how scared I was. I had learned the hard way that you do not show a predator fear. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Barnett.”

  “How many strikes you got, man?” he asked, ignoring my slight.

  “What?”

  He leaned forward and gave an exaggerated sniff. “I can smell the prison on you. What were you in for?”

  “None of your business. Leave me alone, I have to work,” I sneered. One of the behemoths behind Barnett took a menacing step forward but stopped at a gesture from Barnett. My heart began to beat like a high school drumline. I tried to think through my options if one of those giants tried to grab me.

  Run. My option would be to run. They were standing between me and the bar door, which meant I would have to run aimlessly down the street. It also meant that they could walk right into the back of the restaurant and sneak up on Gabe if they wanted, but there was nothing I could do about that.

  “It is exactly my business, homes,” Barnett said. “And business is good. I might be hiring if you’ve got any skills.”

  “I’ve already got a job,” I answered, trying to be more careful with my words.

  “I’m sure I can pay more than that old man.”

  I glanced at the two bodyguards and took a deep breath. Choosing my words delicately, I said, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.”

  Barnett watched me for a moment, his eyes sharp and thoughtful. “Maybe I don’t take ‘no’ very well, huh? Maybe you just need some motivation.”

  Cold fear swept over me. I tried to swallow it down, tried to look Barnett in the eye, tried to show a casual confidence I didn’t feel. I shifted my weight, preparing myself to run, but I also knew that if I ran, Barnett would wait and corner me another time. Hell, for all I knew he might have guys waiting at the end of the alley ready for me. I had to try to talk my way out of this first.

  “Do you think jumping me in this alley is going to make me a loyal and dependable employee, Barnett?” I asked, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

  He gave me a quick smile. “Hurt you? No. But maybe I send some of my boys to hang around some, all friendly like. How long do you think it would take for those cops that like to come around to notice? How long do you think it would take them to decide you’re violating parole for associating with felons? You are on parole, aren’t you?”

  “You think just because your guys act nice, the cop is going to think I’m working with you?”

  “Oh nooo,” Barnett drawled sarcastically. “I’m sure they’ll believe you when you say you don’t deal with us. You know how reasonable they can be.”

  He was right. I’d never come across a cop that gave the benefit of the doubt. Most cops believed that if you looked like a criminal and walked like a criminal, they just hadn’t yet caught you being a criminal. Maybe I could call the cops and report harassment, or maybe I could run away, but those didn’t feel like options. I felt trapped. I’m not proud of my reaction, but I was scared. “What do you want?”

  He smiled again, enjoying his victory. “Information.”

  “Information? About what?”

  “The old man. He acts all high and mighty and won’t have nothin’ to do with me, but he’s got something going on here. I’ve seen how few customers come through. I’ve seen him close shop in the middle of the day. I’ve seen his house and how he lives. And there is no way he’s making that much money. He’s got a side hustle, in my neighborhood, and I want to know what it is. I want you to find out what game he’s playing and tell me ’bout it.”

  “That’s it? I find some dirt on Gabe and we’ll be done? You’ll leave me alone?”

  Barnett gave another wicked smile, “Not just dirt. You find out what else he has going on here, then yes, I will leave you alone. For now.” Then he turned and walked away, his two giant guard dogs following dutifully behind.

  I threw my bags of trash into the dumpster, stepped into the storage room, closing the door behind me, and leaned against the door. “That damn alley, man,” I grumbled to myself.

  I stayed there for several minutes, trying to force my heart to slow to a manageable pace and my hands to stop shaking. When I walked back into the dining area, I saw that Gabe had finished the closing work and was ready to walk out the door.

  “Your money is by the register,” he said, barely glancing at me. “I’m going to take off. Lock the door behind me?” He seemed distracted and in a hurry to leave. His entire demeanor was different from the relaxed, confident attitude he usually carried.

  “Sure. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  I watched Gabe through the window as he turned down the street, walking in the opposite direction from his truck. Once he made it past the light spilling from the bar windows, his shoulders hunched and he started looking behind him as if expecting someone to be following him. I recognized that walk. I had done it many times. It was the walk of someone doing something they did not want to be seen doing.

  I thought about following him. I had a feeling he was up to something, and after everything with the cops and Barnett, I was dying to know what it was. I put my hand on the door, debating going after him before deciding it wasn’t any of my business. After everything Gabe had done for me, I owed him at least a little trust. Surely there was a reasonable answer to all my questions and if I had the rest of the puzzle pieces, I would see the picture was not as shady as it felt right then.

  Either way, it wasn’t any of my concern. I just needed to mind my own business, get my life together, and be on my way. I would have to figure out something to do about Barnett, but that was future-me’s problem. Tonight-me was tired and didn’t want to deal with it any more.

  I locked the door, turned out the lights, and headed up to my new apartment. Spending several months locked in a small jail cell hadn’t left me in the best physical shape, and I was exhausted after a day on my feet. I wanted to lie down and pass out, but I was filled with nervous energy and couldn’t get my brain to slow down. I paced around the room for several minutes before deciding I needed something to occupy my mind.

  I looked at the wall of bookshelves on one side of the apartment. Gabe had said my first “rent” wasn’t due until the following Sunday, so I had just over a week to read something. But I was never a fast reader, and a head start would probably be a good idea.

  I scanned the shelves, each packed with books of various sizes. There were shelves full of religious texts. I saw the Bible and the Koran sitting beside philosophies by Immanuel Kant and Friedrich Nietzsche. Another shelf was full of books about space and a theoretical physics book. What the hell is theoretical physics, and who reads it for fun?

  I passed over most of the books without paying attention
to the titles, totally judging them by their covers. Further down the shelves, I came across novels by Stephen King, Tom Clancy, and others. I leafed through a few of them, but they were so thick I wasn’t confident I could finish one in a week. I tried to memorize a couple of the titles whose plots seemed particularly interesting, thinking I could come back to them another time.

  I ended up picking a book from a shelf full of well-worn Louis L’Amour paperbacks. The book was thin enough that I was confident in my ability to read it, and the picture of the Old West gunfighter on the front looked badass.

  I lay on the bed and began to read, and quickly found myself lost in a world of rolling hills and wide-open plains. I don’t know how long I read, but eventually my eyes became too heavy to hold open any longer.

  Chapter 4

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning started out mundane. I slept in, took my time getting ready, and came downstairs just as Gabe was unlocking the door. He grunted in greeting when he saw me and walked straight behind the bar. I sat in a stool and watched as he dumped grounds into the coffee machine, poured in water, and flipped the switch.

  “Good morning, Gabe,” I said hesitantly.

  He grunted something that almost sounded like “morning.”

  “You’re here early. I thought you said we open later on Sundays?”

  He flung a disgruntled hand toward the coffee machine. “Outta coffee.”

  “Ah,” I replied. Suspicion flooded my mind as I remembered Gabe sneaking down the street last night. What had he been doing that left him so tired this morning? I pushed the thought out of my mind and recommitted myself to leaving well enough alone.

  I sat quietly while Gabe pulled out a couple of mugs and dumped some creamer and a little bit of sugar in each. He stood staring at the carafe for several minutes, as if willing it to fill quicker. He waited impatiently until it was just over halfway full before removing the carafe and pouring coffee into both mugs, ignoring the mess as coffee continued to drip from the machine all over the counter.

  Gabe set one of the mugs in front of me and took a sip from the other. I watched bemusedly as he closed his eyes and let out a deep, contented sigh. He took a few more sips before looking at me and saying, “Good morning.”

  I smiled. “Late night?”

  He grunted an affirmation. “I’m too old for this.”

  “Okay, Murtaugh.”

  He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Movie’s older than you are.”

  “The classics never die.”

  “Amen to that,” he said as he walked around the bar. He took a seat in the stool next to me. “You start reading anything yet?”

  “Yeah, I started an old Western last night. I don’t remember the name, though.”

  “Hm,” he grunted. “What do you think of it so far?”

  “It’s good. There is a mystery to it and a love story, of course. But it boils down to the good guy fighting the bad guy. It’s simple. Clean.”

  “Yeah, real life is rarely that simple,” he said.

  “It’s nice to know the good guys from the bad guys, you know?” I said, suddenly feeling tired.

  Gabe grunted again and waved his hand dismissively. “There are no good guys, kid. Or hell, maybe there are somewhere. There are certainly bad guys. But mostly there are just people. Everyone’s just trying to survive. And I imagine everyone has a little good and a little bad in them.”

  I felt like there was the slightest window where, if I asked the right question, I could get Gabe to open up a little. I scrambled to put words together that would allow me insight into who he was, but my brain moved too slowly.

  Before I could think of something to ask, Gabe sighed and said, “I was planning on doing some extra cleaning this morning, but I don’t have it in me. I think I might take a nap in the back room.”

  “Gabe,” I said, “Why don’t you go home? I can open the store on my own and have plenty of time to get some extra cleaning done. If today is anything like yesterday, I can even handle the lunch shift by myself. Why don’t you get some rest and come back in time for dinner?”

  He eyed me skeptically. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “You’ve done a lot for me. This is something I can do for you.”

  Gabe sighed, and the suspicion on his face faded into grateful weariness. “Yeah, okay, kid. Sunday afternoon is usually slower than Saturday, so I’m sure you can handle it. I’ll be back by three … unless I just sleep till tomorrow.”

  He left with a simple “goodbye” and I started wiping up the mess from his spilled coffee. I spent the next couple hours dusting picture frames and washing windows. There was a tranquility about the mindless work, a sense of serene calm as I lost myself in the simple tasks. I spent so much time cleaning that before I knew it, it was almost time to open.

  I quickly put away the cleaning supplies and started preparing the restaurant to open. I had the chairs off the tables and the grill warming when I unlocked the front door. I continued doing the rest of the prep work as I waited for the first customer to show up.

  I was walking from the back room carrying a bucket of ice, lost in my thoughts, when a voice said, “Hello, Kurt!” I hadn’t known anyone was in the restaurant and almost dropped the bucket in surprise.

  "Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you," the bubbly, feminine voice said.

  I looked up to find a girl, about my age, sitting on a stool at the bar. She was cute and pocket-sized, with pale skin and soft green eyes. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders and dyed a very natural bright blue. She wore a faded, black Ramones T-shirt, black pants with a black, metal-studded belt, and flip-flops. Her lipstick color matched her hair perfectly, and her full lips were curled up at the corners in a sly smile.

  I liked her instantly. I mean, what twenty-year-old doesn’t instantly like a pretty girl?

  I tried to regain my composure and said, “Uh, no. You didn’t scare me. I just didn’t hear the bell jingle when you came in.” She just smiled and looked at me with those beautiful eyes, and I felt my cheeks begin to flush. I broke eye contact and walked behind the bar to dump the ice in the beer bath.

  “Can I get you something to eat?” I asked.

  “Just a Coke please, Kurt,” she answered.

  I thought about telling her my name wasn’t Kurt, but she was so cute I briefly considered legally changing my name. I poured a glass of Coke and set it in front of her. She took a sip and said, “Know what, I think I will have a burger, if you have time.”

  I looked around the empty restaurant and said, “Yeah, I think I can fit you in. Just give me a minute.”

  “Thanks, Kurt.”

  “Um. My name isn’t Kurt. I’m Wesley.”

  Her eyes lit up when she smiled. She stood on the footrest of the stool and leaned over the bar, extending her hand. “Hi, Wesley! I’m Kayla.”

  I shook her hand. It was soft and tiny; my fingers wrapped around it completely. As she leaned forward, I caught the faintest whiff of vanilla and lavender. God, she even smelled magical. I had a brief moment of panic before I remembered for sure that I had put on deodorant after my shower.

  When she leaned back into her seat, her hair fluttered as if caught in a breeze. I glanced toward the door, but it was still closed. When I looked back to Kayla, she was staring and smiling at me. I felt my cheeks start to flush again. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Kayla.”

  “You too, Wesley.” She paused as I continued to stare awkwardly at her. After a moment, she asked, “Can I get my burger?”

  “Oh, yeah! Right!” I turned quickly so she would not see my face turn bright pink, grabbed a patty from the fridge, and tossed it on the grill. It sizzled and filled the air with the satisfying smell of grilled meat. “What do you want on your burger?” I asked.

  “Surprise me,” she said with an adorable amount of enthusiasm.

  “Surprise you? You’re not worried I’ll mess it up?”

  “Nah, I’m not really that hungry.”

&
nbsp; I gave her what I hoped was a wry smile. “A restaurant is a strange place to hang out if you’re not hungry.”

  She laughed. “I work at the art studio across the street. My boss isn’t in yet, and Gabe usually lets me hang out and drink free coffee. Plus, I wanted to meet Gabe’s new employee.”

  “You heard about me?”

  “I just heard Gabe had finally hired someone.”

  “And you heard my name was Kurt?” I asked.

  “No, no one knew your name.”

  “Then why were you calling me Kurt?”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “When I don’t know someone’s name, I just make something up until they correct me. I like to see how long it takes for someone to tell me I’m calling them the wrong name. You can learn a lot about someone by how long it takes them to correct you.”

  I flipped her burger and asked, “What did you learn about me that it took me three times?”

  “Not as much as from the fact you counted!” She laughed.

  I laughed too, hoping she again did not notice the embarrassment on my face. God, I was ruining any chance of looking cool to this chick. I pulled out a bun and started loading it with condiments. “So why Kurt?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Why call me Kurt?”

  “Oh, I’m doing musicians this week.”

  I looked down at the flannel shirt Gabe had bought me. “Cobain?” I asked. She smiled and nodded.

  I grabbed the spatula and flipped the burger onto the bun, then set it, with a bag of chips, in front of her. I had loaded the buns with a little of every topping we had, and the burger leaned precariously to one side. Kayla’s eyes grew wide as she inspected the massive burger in front of her. She lifted it, her tiny hands barely able to hold it, and with a proportionally large smile said, “This is going to be fun.” Then she took a bite larger than I had thought her tiny mouth would be capable of.

  I chuckled as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You’re a little weird, aren’t you?”