by B. B. Hamel
Liam glared at me with light blue eyes. His lip curled, his square jaw tense, his bulbous nose bent like he smelled something ugly. But he put his hands up and moved down to his knees.
I checked him first. I reached into his waistband and found a gun. I grabbed it, pulled it out, put it in my own waistband. I checked the skinny guy who was face down on the floor next and found nothing. The fat guy was last and as I approached, he nodded at the table in front of him.
“My piece is there,” he said.
I noticed a silver revolver next to a cigarette that was still burning in the ash tray. I picked it up and tossed it aside, letting it bump across the rug and come to a stop against the far wall. The fat guy flinched every time it hit the ground, and I guessed it was loaded.
I reached forward and checked the rest of him, and sure enough, he had nothing else.
“All right,” I said, holding my gun out. “Gentlemen. Let’s make this easy. Where are the drugs?”
The fat guy’s jaw dropped. “Drugs?” he asked.
“Don’t make this hard,” Luca said, gesturing at the bleeding man on the ground. “We’ll do unto you, too.”
The fat guy grimaced and stared at his bloody friend.
“Don’t you fucking tell,” Liam said from the floor. “Don’t you open your mouth, Percy.”
“Why the fuck not?” Percy asked. “They got the drop on us. What’s the point?”
“You die for your Club,” Liam said.
“No need for dying,” I said. “No need for hurting, either. Just say where the drugs are.”
Percy stared at me, then his eyes moved over to the kitchen. They lingered then came back to mine.
I bowed my head. “Well done, Percy.” I walked past him, over to Liam, and smashed the butt of my gun across his face. He grunted and fell to the side, blood splashing from his broken lips and teeth. I kicked him hard in the face then again in the gut and the chest. He curled into a ball and groaned.
“What the fuck?” Percy said. “What the fuck, man? What the fuck?”
“He was going to be trouble,” I said and turned away from where Liam lay bleeding into the carpet. “Now, I’m going into the kitchen to take your stash. If things go sideways from here, someone’s going to die, and I can promise you that it won’t be me or my men.” I walked past Percy again and looked to Luca. “Stay here and cover them.”
“All right, boss.”
I walked down the hallway and stepped into the galley kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink and crumbs littered the stove top. There was a tea kettle, covered in grease stains and dented, and a coffee machine that looked like it’d never been cleaned. I ripped open cabinets and found most of them empty except for a few glasses, some chipped and yellowing mugs, and some old mismatched thrift store plates and bowls. The refrigerator smelled like feet and had ketchup, eight Miller Lites, old Chinese food takeout containers, and a moldy loaf of bread.
I slammed the door shut then checked the cabinet under the sink. Shoved in the very back was a black trash bag. I grabbed it, pulled it out, and opened it up.
Little vials covered the bottom like snowflakes.
I smiled to myself and threw the bag over my shoulder. I stepped out of the kitchen and looked half way down the hall. “Luca,” I said. “Come on.”
He came walking backwards, gun still out. As I headed to the door, I heard commotion from upstairs. I gave Luca a look and he nodded, still watching the guys in the living room from the hallway. I hurried upstairs toward the noise and walked down a dark hallway. No pictures hung on the walls, just bare white paint with black marks from where people bumped and scuffed it. I found Simon and Davide in the back bedroom ripping open a mattress with a long, serrated military style knife. Old dirty clothes were piled in a corner along with empty cigarette packs, old beer cans, and crumpled chip bags reflecting the bright overhead light.
“Look at this,” Simon said and gestured down.
I tilted my head as Davide held up a fist full of cash. “It’s stuffed inside,” he said, stabbing the mattress again and slicing downward. The knife caught on the metal springs so he pulled back, stabbed again, cut some more.
Once it was open enough, they pulled out more bundles of cash. I guessed at least fifty thousand dollars was shoved in there. I held out the trash bag full of little vials, and they dumped the cash bundles in on top. When it was cleared out, Davide and Simon left first, their guns out, and I followed.
There was a shout downstairs and a gunshot went off. More gunshots popped, and Davide and Simon leapt down the last few steps. They flung themselves into the hallway as I threw myself after them. Luca was backed up, firing his gun back into the living room. I heard shouts from down the hall and I recognized Percy’s voice.
“Go,” I shouted at Simon. I shoved him toward the mangled front door. He stumbled outside and nearly tripped down the steps. I grabbed Davide and shoved him out next. “Get the fuck out of here,” I yelled.
They ran back and headed toward their car. I grabbed Luca and pulled him as Percy poked around the corner with his little revolver.
“Fuck,” I said, and remembered that I kicked it into the corner, but didn’t take it away. They must have gotten up and grabbed it while Luca was distracted.
I fired my gun at Percy and the fat man stumbled back into cover. I shoved Luca toward the door and shot my gun over and over. I put down covering fire as Luca got out the door and I followed. The cool night air swept across my skin as I shoved Luca down the steps and grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him along the sidewalk as I ran.
Luca had his own car further down the block and kept running as I peeled off and crossed the street. Colleen stared with wide eyes as I came around and threw open the driver’s side door. Percy stepped out of the destroyed door, his little revolver in his hands, followed by Liam and the skinny guy.
“What the hell happened?” Colleen said.
I threw the car into gear and slammed on the gas. We leapt forward and I swung the wheel hard as we drove past the house. Percy fired off a couple wild shots, but he must’ve ran out of bullets as he came into the street behind us and screamed something impossible to hear.
“You okay?” I asked.
Colleen nodded, her eyes wide. “What happened in there? Are you okay? Is anyone hurt?”
I shook my head and laughed. I couldn’t help myself. I tossed the black trash bag into her lap and laughed my fucking head off, giddy with the rush of a good score. It hadn’t gone down the way I planned, all because I fucked up with that gun, but it’d been a good score anyway.
Colleen looked into the bag and sucked in a breath. She lifted out a stack of money and a little vial. “What is this?” she asked.
“I’d guess fifty grand,” I said. “And a bunch of crack.”
She sucked in a breath. “Crack?” she asked.
“You know, crack cocaine. Common street drug, lots of fucking people do it.”
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know the Club sold this stuff.”
I snorted. “Of course they do. They all fucking sell it, including me.” I laughed as she dropped the bag onto the ground and stared. “What, you think I don’t deal with that shit?”
“I didn’t think about it,” she said.
“Well, I do,” I said. “And all told, that bag on the floor is probably worth close to a hundred grand. Not bad for one night, and I bet your uncle’s going to be pissed.”
She watched me as I drove, but I didn’t care what she thought.
I was too high on the violence and the close call. I was too excited that I’d ripped those fuckers off and hurt them where it mattered. If we hit them again and again like that, sooner or later they’d run out of money to pay their soldiers, and the whole Club would collapse under itself.
Or I could just kill them all. That might be easier.
I grinned as I drove and angled the car back toward my place.
14
Colleen
I
followed Steven back into the house. He shut and locked the door behind us.
“I have to make some calls,” he said and tossed the black trash bag onto the couch. I stared at it for a long moment as he walked into the kitchen. I turned and watched him pour himself a glass of whisky and sip it as he lifted his phone up to his ear.
I went upstairs. I couldn’t stand to be around that trash bag for another second. I marched back to my room and slammed the door behind me, feeling a mixture of anger and despair wash over my body. I flopped down onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling.
I knew the Club was bad. I knew they sold drugs, hurt people, stole from businesses, threatened politicians, and did a whole lot of despicable shit. But I’d never seen proof of what they did and what they sold before tonight, and staring at the crack cocaine in those little vials at the bottom of all that cash sent a chill down my spine.
Because that’s what my father used to do.
I closed my eyes and thought about my dad from the past few years. He worked as a dock supervisor, and although he didn’t love the job, he loved that he had steady, honest work. He left early in the morning and came home late in the evening, but he never seemed unhappy and rarely had a complaint about the docks. He cracked a beer, watched a football game, and went to bed early.
It was hard to believe that man used to sell crack, or heroin, or whatever they were selling when he was still a part of the Club.
That was a long time ago though. He was a much younger man, and his life was radically different now. He’d been outside of that world for a decade, and it was easy to forget how far a person could come in that much time. I doubted my father would sell drugs now if he ever had the chance to do it again, and that almost pissed me off even more.
He’d gotten out and made himself better. Maybe his life wasn’t as exciting or sexy as it used to be, but he had an honest job and he took care of me all on his own. It wasn’t easy for him, and he had some help from neighborhood people, but he was the one that got me up in the morning, he was the one that poured my cereal and made my dinner at night. He put on cartoons, he threw me a ball in the back yard, he bought me a bike and taught me to ride it.
It was always him. As I looked back on my life with my father, I realized how much he’d given up for me, and how much he’d done to make my life comfortable.
There was a knock at my door. I sat up and stared at it. I thought I might tell him to fuck off for just a second, but dismissed that as childish and stupid. It wasn’t Steven’s fault that my father used to be a gangster.
“Come in,” I said.
Steven pushed open the door and stepped inside. He looked at me, head titled to one side.
“You’re not happy,” he said.
“No, I’m not.”
“Why?” He stood in the doorway and watched me with a strange expression on his face.
“It’s not you,” I said, looking away. “I’m just thinking about my dad.”
“Ah,” he said. “He wasn’t in there, if you were wondering.”
I let out a breath. “That hadn’t even occurred to me.”
“He wasn’t,” he said again. “We checked every room.”
“What happened in there?” I asked.
“I fucked up.” He stepped further into the room and his eyes met mine again. “I left them an opening to fight back and they took it. I fucked up and I’ll have to make it up to my guys for that. I think I’ll give them all the loot we just took.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really?” I asked.
“Really,” he said with a dismissive gesture. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t need the money, if I’m honest.”
“What do you need then?” I asked.
He frowned. “Power,” he said. “Territory. Strength. The more I expand, the more money I bring in, the more muscle I can build.”
“What’s going to be enough for you?”
He shook his head. “Nothing will ever be enough,” he said and smiled at me. “Except for you, my Colleen.”
I gave him a look. “Don’t do that.”
He tilted his head. “Do what?”
“Pretend like you want me,” I said. “For anything more than… than… just what you can get from me.”
He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “You really don’t know me,” he said and reached into his pocket. He took out a phone and tossed it to me.
I caught it and stared. It was my phone, the one he kept in his medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
“Like I promised,” he said. “Your phone back.”
I held it in my hands then looked at him. “You’re sure?” I asked. “You’re not going to take it away again?”
“I don’t think I’ll have to,” he said. “Not if you’re really working on this with me. Doesn’t make much sense for you to fuck it up, but crazier things have happened.”
“I don’t plan on fucking anything up,” I said.
“Good.” He crossed his arms. “I want you to promise me something though.”
“What?” I asked.
“Promise you won’t let them trick you into thinking they’re on your side.”
I frowned and tilted my head. I was about to ask him what he meant, but then I shut my mouth and let out a breath. I knew what he meant, knew what he thought. I leaned forward, phone cradled in my hands.
“I’m not sure they can,” I said.
“They’ll try,” he said. “Now that you can be contacted, they’ll find you and they’ll talk to you. But don’t forget that they took your father, they hurt him, and they did that without knowing whether you were really on my side or not. They could’ve assumed you were abducted to use against them, but instead they assumed the worst, and your father paid that price.”
I clenched my jaw and stared at the phone. I tossed it onto the bed next to me like it was burning hot and wiped my hands on my jeans.
“I don’t think you’re much better,” I said.
“I’m not,” he said. “But I’m honest, and I haven’t hurt you on purpose.”
“But you did.” I put a hand over my shoulder, right where I’d been shot. “You hurt me.”
His face tensed and he looked away. I was surprised by his reaction.
“Yeah,” he said. “I did. And I plan on making that up to you.”
“How?” I asked.
“Slowly at first, but I will.” He sucked in a breath. “Just be careful with that phone, all right? Don’t tell anyone where you are. As soon as someone knows, they can be used against you.”
I nodded at him and glanced at the phone. It sat like a brick on the bed. “I won’t,” I said.
“Good.” He walked to the door the hesitated. “Everyone’s okay. Just so you know. None of my guys were hurt.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” I said. “You were worried, weren’t you?”
He nodded once. “Not at first, but once the adrenaline wore off.”
“But they’re fine.”
“Yeah,” he said. I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he held back and shook his head. “Yeah, they’re fine.”
He left without another word and didn’t shut the door. I sat there and stared at the light coming in from the hall, and thought about all the trouble I could get in with a phone.
But he was right. If I told anyone about Steven and staying with him, they’d be in danger. Which meant I had to keep this from Tracy, had to keep it from everyone.
I reached over and grabbed the phone. I turned it on, my heart beating fast. It booted up again, and more missed calls and messages and emails popped up.
I stared at the screen then opened iMessage. I tapped on Tracy’s name and typed a text.
Me: Hi just checking in. Things are fine, hope you’re okay.
Tracy: !!!! HEY YOU’RE ALIVE!!!
Me: haha of course I am. Sorry I’ve been so absent lately.
Tracy: Are you coming home soon?
Me: maybe, I don’t really know. I’ll try an
d tell you when I do know.
Tracy: I really want to keep asking about where you’re hiding but I’m pretty sure you won’t tell me.
Me: I know, I’m sorry. I’m the worst.
Tracy: But I’m happy you’re okay!! Things are SO boring around here right now. I almost wish you were around so we could get in some trouble!!
Me: ugh lol, I think I’ve had enough trouble for one lifetime.
Tracy: DON’T BE VAGUE JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE.
Me: lol sorry, love you!!
I turned off the phone again and threw myself back onto the bed.
The phone was almost useless. I couldn’t tell anyone about what was happening to me, so it was almost like I didn’t have a phone at all. I looked at it for a second and had a sudden, crazy idea pop into my head.
I could call my dad. Maybe he had his phone, wherever they were keeping him. I could tell him that I was okay, or maybe ask where he was.
But of course that was stupid. I pushed the thought from my mind and closed my eyes. I tried not to think about Steven running from that house, the Club guys spilling out behind him with guns.
Worst of all, I tried not to picture that wild grin on his face as he drove off, like he’d just won the greatest game of all time and couldn’t wait to do it again.
That look terrified me more than anything else. The guns, the fights, the violence, that was all a part of it.
But the way he seemed to enjoy the danger scared the hell out of me.
I pushed my phone further away and curled up in a ball. I shut my eyes and tried to pretend like the outside world didn’t exist, like a killer wasn’t downstairs drinking whisky and watching TV, like I wasn’t in a situation where I couldn’t tell a single soul about where I was or what I was doing, no matter how much I wanted to, because I no longer had any control.
Sleep wouldn’t come. I never really thought it would. I stayed on the bed for a while, waited for my mind to slow down, but it never happened. I looked at the clock and saw it was just after two in the morning. I could still hear the TV on downstairs, so I slipped from bed and walked into the hallway. I stood at the top of the steps and listened to some old western movie echo off the hardwood floors, before slowly walking down the steps.