Bartender

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Bartender Page 12

by William Vitka


  Mr. Racist howls. Blood pools around him.

  Saim says, “Accidental discharge. Accidental discharge.” He smiles. “Hey, EMTs, something happened. Guy’s bleeding out his balls.” Then, in Racist Guy’s ear: “I can get married to anyone I want. Have kids. Now, well, you can’t. That’s a bitch, ain’t it? You wanna be mad about gays? Get mad at straight people. They’re the ones who keep giving birth to all these gay kids like me.”

  ***

  Saim says to Sarah, “That was amazing, what you did.”

  Sarah says, “It’s cuz of Kieron. He was so worried about that goddamn gun. Thought someone was gonna come in and use it on him after he went for a piss.”

  “Well, it did what it needed to do.”

  Sarah looks at him with watery eyes. “How’s your partner?”

  “Joe? Joe’ll be fine. Good lookin guy like him, and a cop? Wounded on duty? He’ll be buried in pussy for the next month and a half. All those nurses.”

  Sarah grins. “And what about you?”

  Saim mimics her smile. “Well, I would rather not be buried in pussy. What about you?”

  “I’m... I’m fine. All things considered.”

  “And what about—”

  It hits Sarah like a freight train. “Aaron. Aaron.”

  27.

  Saim’s gotta fight Sarah a bit to keep her back while they make their way up to Kieron’s apartment.

  It’s a conga line up there on the stairs.

  Saim, one cop, two cop, Sarah, cop, cop, cop, cop.

  Saim kicks the door in. Takes point. Colt up.

  Other cops filter in behind him.

  Saim cries out, “Aaron? Aaron? It’s all right, buddy. Come out if you’re hiding. This is the NYPD. Good guys, I swear. Aaron?”

  Sarah pushes her way through the cops and Saim nods to them: Let her through.

  She screams for the boy. Calls to him.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  She and Saim walk into the living room. The TV’s on. An old Disney movie nobody remembers. The Black Hole.

  Aaron’s big spaceship is in pieces on the floor.

  28.

  Saim jogs up to the ambulance carrying Racist Guy. Hits the driver’s window once. Just to let the EMT know he’s there.

  Saim moves to Racist Guy in the rear emergency bay.

  The guy smiles. Laughs on his stretcher.

  Saim says, “Where’s the kid?”

  Racist Guy says, “I told you. I told you.” Laughs some more.

  Saim hops into the back. Shoves his Colt 1911 into Racist Guy’s mouth. Rams it down the fucker’s throat till the bastard’s gag reflex kicks in and he’s choking.

  No more laughs.

  Saim says, “You tell him I’m coming.” Eyes hard. Staring Racist Guy down. Kinda fun when you have a gun. “I know you and your boss are gonna pull some bullshit where you end up on the street again in a day. And I know you’re gonna go back to him.

  “You tell your boss I’m coming. You understand me?”

  Racist Guy nods. Speechless now.

  “My name is Officer Saim fuckin Dajani.

  “You called down the thunder.

  “Now you got it.”

  About the Author

  William Vitka is a writer and journalist. He spent ten bloody years in the media in New York City. He’s written for CBSNews.com, NYPost.com, Stuff Magazine, and GameSpy to name a few.

 

 

 


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