by H. L. Sudler
The tourist held her. “I say we just go.”
Jon looked at them. Rico wiped his face.
“There will be more questions if we leave than if we stay,” Jon said. “Step aside.”
The tourist and the prostitute huddled against a wall, and Jon fired Dark’s gun. There was quiet a moment before Jon spoke.
“Here’s the story,” Jon said. He looked at the tourist and the prostitute. “You were never here.”
“What are you talking about?” the tourist said.
“If anybody finds out how you came to be here…trying to score drugs, solicitation, you could be arrested. And I think we’ve all suffered enough tonight, don’t you?”
The prostitute looked at the tourist. The tourist pointed to Rico.
“What about the kid? He’s one of them.”
Jon turned to Rico.
“He has to go, too. He saved our lives. My life. I’ll go to the police. Tell them I was kidnapped by four guys. That this gang tried to kill me. That the leader went crazy, shot everybody, and I killed him.”
“Nobody’s gonna buy that,” the tourist said.
Jon looked at him.
“I’ll have to spin it just right, now won’t I? Now get out of here. All of you. Just go.”
Everyone looked at the dead bodies, then each other. Silently, they headed for the door.
Detective Brian looked at Jon. The interrogation room was quiet.
“So you flagged down the nearest policeman you could find…”
“Yes…” Jon said. “I told him what happened, where the bodies were. He brought me here.”
“And that’s it? Anything else?”
Jon did not look at the detective, only at the ugly table. He said, “No.”
There was a knock on the door. A female officer entered.
“Detective, can I see you for a moment?”
Detective Brian said to Jon, “Sit tight.”
Jon nodded. His eyes followed the detective out the door. He bent his head into the table and sighed. He had not told the detective everything. Not by a long shot.
Rico followed Jon once they hit the street.
Jon had been held captive on a construction site at the old Hudson Yards, not far off from Midtown and Hell’s Kitchen. The tourist and the prostitute had gone their own way, but Rico trailed Jon up a quiet street as he looked for a cop.
“Why are you following me? Go. Get out of here,” Jon yelled over his shoulder. “You don’t need to be around for this.”
Rico continued to follow. Jon turned on him.
“What do you want?” Jon snapped. “You’re free to go. I won’t tell the cops about you. Go. Go home. Get out of here.”
“I don’t have a home,” Rico said. “I don’t have nobody.”
“Not my problem!”
Rico lowered his head, nearly started crying again.
“Look, kid, I don’t have time for this. I’ve had a really, really, really, long day. I’m exhausted. And all I want to do is go the fuck home. But first, I have to tell the police what happened, and God knows how long that’s going to take.”
“I’m sorry,” Rico said. His head was hung low. Then he began to cry. Not loudly, but enough that Jon knew the boy wanted to tell him something.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Rico’s hands were shaking. “I’m not a tough guy. I’m not like…that.” Rico pointed behind him, to the Yards.
“Look, kid, I forgive you. You saved my life. You took a wrong turn—”
“I have no place to go!” Rico shouted, looking up at Jon. His face was streaked with tears. “That’s why I was doing that! I have no place to go!”
Jon put his hands on his hips, sighed. God, he was tired. Aching. Weary. Hungry. He would have paid cash money to be in a bed right now. Any bed.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“You’re sixteen and you’re out here doing this?”
When Rico couldn’t answer, Jon waved him off.
“My name’s not Rico.”
Jon frowned.
“What is it?”
“Ricardo.”
“Ricardo…”
Rico nodded.
“More of you around?”
Rico shook his head. “My dad ran off when I was little. My mom…” Rico turned away a little. Tried to hide his reddening face. “She got boyfriends,” he said, tightly. “I got a brother and sister somewhere. Twins. Older than me. But I don’t know where they are. Somewhere in Florida. My dad used to live there.”
“You don’t have anybody else?”
Rico shook his head. He could not bring himself to look at Jon.
“Look, I don’t know what you want from me. I can give you a few bucks…”
Rico muttered, “I don’t want anything. I just…don’t know where to go. I have no place to go.”
They stood a moment in silence, with Jon looking at Rico and Rico looking toward the lights of Midtown in the distance.
Jon ran a hand through his hair. “Today is my birthday.”
Rico looked at Jon with disbelief. “Are you shitting me?”
“Hey, what kind of mouth is that? And no, I’m not shitting you.”
Rico smiled a little, amused. “On Halloween?”
“There’s nothing wrong with having a birthday on Halloween, unless somebody’s trying to kill you like they’re Michael Myers.”
Rico’s face fell. “Dude, I’m sorry. We didn’t…I didn’t…know.”
Jon shook his head. “This has been the most fucked up birthday ever.” His eyes found Rico’s. He pointed to him. “When I was your age, I wanted one thing. To get out of Newark, New Jersey. I grew up piss poor, in a crowded house. I moved away and worked for everything I have. You would think that would make me happy. I have everything I wanted back then. Everything. I should be happy. On my birthday, I should be happy…but I’m not.”
Rico said quietly, “Aren’t you happy to be alive?”
Jon sighed, swallowed. “I guess I should be, huh?”
“But it’s not enough.”
Jon shook his head. “And I don’t know why it isn’t.”
“Maybe you need a change. A girlfriend.”
Jon chuckled to himself, thinking of his conversation with April earlier. “You have a girl?”
“No,” Rico said. “I was kinda in the gang to get noticed.”
Jon smiled wider, rolled his eyes. “Let me tell you something, my friend. There are better ways to get a girl’s attention. And the girl that would have you doing what you were doing is not the kind of girl you want to go to sleep next to with both eyes closed.”
Jon started to walk, and Rico tagged along beside him. Jon looked at the lights of New York. Rico followed suit.
“One summer when I was eighteen, I saved my coins and took a trip cross-country. On a bus. I wanted to see America.”
“Where’d you go?”
“San Francisco. Part of me wishes I’d stayed. I have friends in California.”
“Why’d you come back?”
Jon shook his head. “I came back to what I knew. This. And now I’m ready to give it up. I’m sick of it. I need a change.”
“I’ve never been outta New York.”
Jon stopped at a corner. He watched passing cars, seeing but not seeing them at all. He looked at Rico.
“Who are you?” he asked the boy.
“What do you mean?”
“Who are you…really?”
“I’m…Ricardo Vitale.”
“And…”
“I’m…Italian. And Puerto Rican.”
“Duh…”
Rico smiled.
“I’m…sixteen, almost seventeen. I like movies, girls, food, writing—”
“You in school?”
Rico shrugged, e
vasive. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jonathan Hammond, but everybody calls me Jon. I work a lot, travel, fuck around. Other than that…I’m not sure who or what I am. I only know I have this strong feeling inside.”
“To do what?”
“Run…”
Rico looked down, off to the side. He nodded in agreement.
Jon said quietly, “I want to run. Away from here. Away from this city. I want a new life. I don’t think I have one more New York winter inside of me. I want sun…and a beach. Warmth.” Jon covered his mouth. Tears fell from his eyes, his face scarlet and strained.
“You should go,” Rico said, softly. Jon looked at him. “I would if I could.”
“Where would you go?”
Rico laughed a little. “Some place warm. With nice people. Maybe an ocean. Maybe a beach, where I could sit and write. Where I could be normal…and happy. Where I could be myself. Whatever that is.”
Church bells rang nearby, ticking off the hour. It was eleven.
Jon threw his head back, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled long. He smiled. He looked at Rico and shook his head. He looked as if he were debating something ridiculous. And to Jon it did seem ridiculous. Considering the day. Considering the night.
“What…?”
“I was going to say something that would sound bat-shit crazy.”
Rico looked at Jon skeptically. “Okay…”
Jon was quiet a moment. “How would you like to go to California?”
Rico looked around. “To do what?”
“Live!” Jon said, smiling. “Start over!”
“I don’t know anybody in California,” Rico exclaimed.
Jon made a funny face. “Me! You would know me!”
“What?”
“Listen…I think I know what’s wrong with me. Why I’m not happy. You made me see that I need a new start. A new outlook. All day I’ve been fixated on what’s wrong with my life, how unhappy I am. I’ve been blinded to all the possibilities around me. I need a change of scenery to see myself differently. Better. Happier. It took me almost dying tonight to realize that. It took somebody nearly taking my life to realize I didn’t want to give it up. That I wanted it…badly. So I’m going to leave. Blow this town. Turn a page. Move on to the next chapter. See what it brings. And I’d like for you to come with me. I want you to turn your life around, go to school, find a dream, be a good man. You need the opportunity. And I think I can give you that.”
“But I don’t know you.”
“And I don’t know you,” Jon said. “But you saved my life tonight. Let me save yours.”
Rico turned away, looked down the darkened street. The lights of Midtown were in the distance. The night was black, and he knew, looking all around, that it was rough. New York was rough. His life was rough. And he really could use a breather. He really needed for something good to happen to him.
Rico looked over his shoulder, then faced Jon. He said nothing, only stuck out his hand.
“You sure about this?” Jon asked, seriously.
Rico answered, “What have we got to lose?”
Jon took Rico’s hand in his. “Beautiful weather, the Pacific Ocean…girls.”
Rico laughed.
“Don’t worry,” Jon said. “We’ll start over. We’ll have better lives. But we have to hurry. It’s almost midnight. We can either stand here and turn into pumpkins. Or we can be Cinderella Men. Pick your poison.”
Rico nodded, smiled widely. He was nervous. “Let’s do this.”
Jon had rushed Rico into a taxi, and they sped to Penn Station. Outside, there was a vendor selling bags. He bought a backpack and a duffel for Rico, then rushed him into a Duane Reade convenience store. He ordered Rico to pick out underwear, deodorant, toothpaste, a toothbrush. He grabbed for him other toiletries, snacks, food, bottled water, a flip phone, and took them to the counter. The cashier looked at them strangely. Jon looked down, at his bloody hand, his bloody, dirty shirt. He thought of his bruised face and tousled hair.
“Just ring up the sale.”
The woman looked suspiciously from Jon to Rico and back.
“Ring the sale,” Jon said, strained.
“Is everything okay?” the woman asked, looking over Jon’s suit.
“Everything’s fine,” Rico said, cautiously.
The woman looked Jon in the eyes. She said carefully, “Sir, are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Just ring up the goddamn sale!” Jon yelled.
The woman jumped, and Rico looked at Jon with a warning in his eyes. He touched Jon’s arm lightly and looked at the woman.
“We’ve had a hard night. We’ll just go—”
“No, we will not just go,” Jon said to Rico. To the woman he said, “Here’s a hundred dollars. I think a hundred dollars will cover everything here. And a candy bar for me, because I need a candy bar after the day I’ve had. That should leave you with something left over for your troubles tonight.
“We’re going to take these things”—he grabbed a plastic bag over the counter—“and one of these if you don’t mind, and be on our way. Does that sound good to you, because it sounds good to me? Say yes or nod.”
The woman nodded.
“Excellent. You enjoy a pleasant evening.”
Jon piled Rico’s belongings into the large plastic bag and pushed him out the door.
“She’s gonna call somebody,” Rico said.
“Which means we don’t have much time to get you out of here.”
While Rico was buying pizza, Jon had bought tickets for him. He held them up as they looked at the large Amtrak departure board inside Penn Station.
“Years after I took the trip to San Francisco, I took another trip. On a train. Same type of trip. Cross-country. I was better off then, and it was fun. You’re about to take that trip right now.”
Rico’s face fell. “Where am I going?”
“First you’re going to Chicago. There’s a train that leaves around midnight, gets into Chicago about 8:00 AM. You’ll have a layover for about three or four hours. You’ll get on another train, and that will take you to San Francisco.”
“By myself?”
“Yes…by yourself. You’ll be fine.”
Rico looked down to the floor, nervous.
“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot tonight. But I think you’re old enough to handle this. I got you one of those disposable phones, so you can call me. You’ve got books to read and food to eat. And here’s some money.”
“What happens when I get to California?” Rico said, urgently.
“When you get off the train, I’ll be there.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll stay with some friends of mine. We’ll start our new lives. Find a place to live. Get you in a school. See if I can convince my boss to transfer me out west.”
Rico was quiet and looked as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite.
Jon took him by the shoulders. “You can do this.”
Rico leaned in for a hug.
“I’m not abandoning you. We’re a team. Like Batman and Robin.”
“You’re free to go,” Detective Brian said from the doorway of the interrogation room.
“Are you serious?”
“Unless you’d like to stay here, courtesy of the City.”
Jon stood up from the hideous table. “I think I’ll pass on that invitation, but thank you.”
The detective stood out of the way and allowed Jon to pass. April was waiting for him.
“Jon, what happened? I looked around the party and you were gone. Next thing I know, I have The Skyline calling me and the police telling me you’d been kidnapped.”
“Yes…”
“And what happened? You have blood all over you, and your face…”
&
nbsp; “Someone tried to kill me on my birthday, plain and simple.”
Detective Brian was standing nearby.
“You’re friend’s a hero, Ms. Stanton. He was kidnapped by a group of young men who tried to kill him and some other people as part of their initiation into the gang.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Mr. Hammond here was very resourceful and managed to save himself and some of the others by killing the leader of the gang.”
April looked at Jon.
“How?”
Jon looked at Detective Brian. “I shot him in the head.”
April covered her mouth.
“Could have turned out much worse than it did. And it was bad to begin with.” Detective Brian thumbed over his shoulder. “When you’re done with Ms. Stanton, I’ll be right over there. I need to process you out, and that’ll take a minute.”
They watched him walk away.
“Jon, I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”
“No,” Jon said, taking April by the arms. “You need to go home.”
“Why? I’m fine here. I can drive you home.”
“April,” Jon said. “I need to do this on my own.”
April closed her mouth and stepped back. She looked away and sighed quietly.
“Always the Lone Ranger,” she said. “No room for April.”
“There’s always room for you.”
“Just nothing more than a Girl Friday.” She nodded. “I understand my place in this story. Finally.”
Jon started to speak, to say he was sorry.
“Call me if you feel like it. I’ll be busy all this weekend, but I’ll return your call when I have a minute.”
Jon took April’s hand as she started to walk away.
“Thank you for the birthday party,” he said. “I had a great time.”
“Me too,” she said, quietly. “I had a ball while it lasted.”
After April left, Jon turned to see Detective Brian staring at him with those steely eyes.
“We couldn’t let you take the fall, in case something went wrong,” the tourist said. “That’s why we came back. Looked for you.”
Jon, the tourist, and the prostitute stood in the hallway near the exit of the precinct.
“What did you tell them?” Jon asked.