Memoirs Of An Antihero

by Drew Blank

  Most people would probably feel uncomfortable being surrounded by unscrupulous strangers while hiding over twenty grand in their pocket accompanied by several weapons used to commit a triple homicide twelve hours earlier. I, on the other hand, found it exciting. Even with a dull pain still coursing through me, I felt powerful.

  Settling into a seat near the back of the bus, I got myself comfortable and pulled out my phone. Calling Dom sent small feelings of guilt through me. He truly was a great friend and I couldn’t let myself forget that. It certainly was convenient having a close contact involved with the investigation of my recent legal transgressions, but I didn’t want to lose sight of our friendship either. The phone rang once.

  Hey! What’s up? Dom already sounded exhausted.

  “Not much, Mr. TV Star! It seems the camera adds ten pounds of gay. You were heavy on the homo this morning, brother.” Without seeing him face to face, and no threat of him noticing my chest bleeding through a snow-white oxford, I was much more at ease talking with him.

  What can I say? Triple homicides really bring it out

  in me.

  “I can’t believe it. That’s totally crazy. Who were the people, anyway?”

  Look, it is balls out crazy here right now. I’m going to wrap up for the day in a few hours. We still on for lunch? I could do a late one, early dinner. You working?

  “No, I’m off today. Tell me a time and I’ll be there.”

  Dude, you live above the restaurant. I hope you’d be there.

  “I have a life, you know.” I tried to defend myself.

  Outside of Tully’s? Okay. Whatever. I’ll call you when I’m out of here.

  “So, you are actually allowed to take time off in the middle of all this?” I thought it was odd that during such a big investigation he would still be punching a time clock.

  Long story. This thing is out of my hands now. I’m just tying up loose ends from this morning. He sounded downhearted and defeated at this.

  “Whoa. Wait a second. What happened?” When I realized I was asking this as a concerned friend and not as somebody with an ulterior motive I felt better. The tone in his voice worried me.

  We’ll talk about it later. It’s what, quarter after one now? I should be able to get to Mema’s by three thirty. That work for you?

  “Yeah. Yeah, three thirty should be fine. It’ll give me time to get some things taken care of. You sure you’re doing alright?” I was still concerned.

  Am I ever really doing alright? I hate this goddamn job, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to leave it. Whatever. Don’t worry about me. See ya at lunch.

  “Three thirty. Don’t bring a date this time. You know how uncomfortable I get around your gentleman callers.” The best thing I can do in these situations is make him laugh.

  I’ll see what I can do, but I make no promises. See ya, fucker. And with that he hung up the phone.

  Instead of putting my phone away and trying to enjoy the lovely scenery around me, I scrolled down my contacts list and pressed Twisty’s entry. It rang once, and she picked up, excitedly.

  Where the hell have you been? Was her immediate greeting.

  “Ummm… Right where you left me. I just woke up on Tom’s couch less than an hour ago. Where are you?”

  I’m at Phil’s place. I crashed in their recliner for a while and we’ve been up all morning planning.

  Get over here, bitch! I heard Phil call over her shoulder.

  It was great to think that even after the disaster we experienced the night before, my friends were all still on board with our plan. They were officially accomplices to a triple homicide, but that did not seem to sway them.

  “I’m on the bus right now. I desperately need to get home and clean myself up. I’ll shower and shit, then head over there. Did Phil skip work today?”

  Yeah. He has a few weeks of vacation time built up. This is the perfect excuse to use it. Boresville went to work super early so he could use their equipment and make up more of that armor. That shit really worked!

  “I’d say I gave that stuff a pretty effective test,” I agreed.

  Aren’t you glad I pinned that little piece on you? Twisty gloated.

  “Yes. You’re very smart. Now shut up,” I conceded.

  Well, get your sweet ass over here ASAP! There is so much to go over.

  Oh, tell him about Benji Carver! Phil yelled from behind her again.

  Oh yeah. We found out who Benji Carver is! Twisty relayed Phil’s message.

  “You’re kidding me? Who is he?” I wasn’t sure if it would be good news or not, but I was certainly intrigued.

  Just get over here and we’ll tell you everything.

  “Goddamn you irritate me.” I hate waiting.

  But you love me. Twisty said in her cutest little girl voice.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah… I’ll be there in a bit. Tell Philsie I love him.”

  What about me? Twisty objected.

  “Yeah. You’re pretty cool, too.”

  Meanie. Click. After delivering her typical sign off, she hung up.

  The thing that infuriated me about the bus more than anything was the fact that somehow this vehicle, easily capable of hitting speeds of over one hundred miles per hour, could turn what would otherwise be a fifteen minute bike ride into a forty-five minute excursion. I had no patience for public transportation.

  At one of what seemed like four hundred stops, a tall lanky man stepped onto the bus. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the new passenger aside from his long scrawny physique and that he was dressed in all shades of dirty gray. He had a sleazy look to him, with ratty hair and a brown-toothed smile. If he weren’t dressed one level above dumpster pickings, with a shave that seemed to be fresh from the morning, I could have easily mistaken him for homeless. To say I was suspicious of him would be an overstatement, but I still felt he was someone to keep a watchful eye on.

  The man shuffled towards the rear and dropped into the backbench. As the bus started up again, he hunched over with his bony elbows on his knees, tapping his foot to no particular beat. He was trying to look casual, but he was obviously preoccupied, as his glance was constantly darting from one end of the bus to the other. I continued to pretend I didn’t notice him, but out of the corner of my eye I monitored his actions.

  At the next stop a few people exited, being replaced by a new group of strangers. Two of the new passengers were teenaged kids. Both the boys were dressed in baggy jeans and sports jerseys of some sort. Their swaggers made it clear they thought they were hot shit. The two joked with one another very boisterously and uncandidly as they made their way to the back of the bus, plopping down next to the nervous man with the stringy hair. My suspicions always ran high on the bus, as I knew the types of miscreants that frequented its route. The combination of the creepy almost homeless guy, and now the two street punks that had no problem advertising the fact that they were up to no good, had me on full alert. With my head facing forward, I kept the backbench in my sight.

  I couldn’t quite hear what was being said from my seat, but the boys almost immediately began a conversation with the scrawny man in gray. The words were muffled, however they seemed short and to the point. Within a minute I spied one of the kids reach into his pocket and hand what appeared to be a huge wad of cash to the nervous man. Frantically, the skinny guy looked in every direction as he snatched the money and stuffed it into his coat.

  A few days earlier, I wouldn’t have even picked up on what was going on around me. I preferred to block it all out and let people handle their business in peace. All that had changed. I was now witnessing a drug deal and I felt a rush of adrenaline pump through me. As the man in gray handed a brown paper bag to one of the kids, all I could think about was the cash sitting in his coat. It may not have been much, but judging from the designer jeans and expensive sneakers the boys were wearing, there was money somewhere. Whether they were dealing themselves or they ripped off mommy and daddy, these kids had
cash. Also, by the size of the paper bag that had been purchased, I could tell we were not dealing with a petty “fix”. A few days earlier, I would have minded my own business. Now, this was my business.

  I turned my attention again to the front of the bus and simply waited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The scrawny man in gray had gotten off the bus only four stops before my own. I gave him ample time to exit before I followed. Trailing him in broad daylight was certainly an easy task. People tend to be less leery of wrong doing in the daytime. His wide gait made him difficult to follow inconspicuously, but I kept up, still allowing a decent distance between the two of us. From time to time I would see him look over his shoulder, but I think it was his own nervous mannerisms, and not any suspicion of being stalked.

  We were not in what would be considered the nicest area in town, but then again, the town really lacked in nice areas altogether. Not knowing anything about this guy, I had to be careful. Any attack made out in the open could welcome friends, families or fellow criminals to jump in to his defense. I shortened the distance between us by speeding up my step. As I walked I retrieved the gloves from Tom’s bag and pulled them onto my hands. They were still damp with sweat from the previous night. I then slid on the big round sunglasses, which were becoming a trademark. Reaching in the bag I fingered the baton, keeping it at the ready.

  To catch up to the man in gray I would have to speed up to almost a run, which would surely draw his attention. However, drawing his attention may have been exactly what I needed to catch him off guard. As the man ambled past an alleyway between two sets of crumbling brownstones, I began to sprint.

  “Look out! Comin’ through!” I yelled as my boots pounded the concrete, making plenty of noise themselves. Instinctively, the man turned around to assess the commotion and to see if the yells were directed at him. Before he could rationally deduce why a strange man was running towards him full speed telling him to make room on a very vacant sidewalk, I caught up and side tackled him into the alley way.

  My blow had apparently been a little too much for the man’s wiry frame to handle. He immediately crumbled to the ground, scrambling to regain his footing.

  “Here. Let me help you,” I said as I grabbed him by the collar on his coat and threw him against the wall, face first.

  “Who the fuck…?” The man in gray could barely get a sentence out as I knocked his head into the brick of the brownstone, holding him up with the force of the baton I had pressed into his ribcage.

  “It would be in your best interest to just relax and do what I say,” I threatened him with the hushed voice I had grown accustomed to using in these situations. He craned his neck trying to get a glimpse of his attacker. With one push of the button on the baton’s handle, the collapsible metal sprang into his ribs with the speed of a bullet. If I hadn’t been holding him against the wall by his head, he would have fallen to the ground from the pain. The yelp he let out bounced between the old brick walls.

  “You…you’re the… you’re the guy from the news!” His voice now quivered as he tried to speak. Part of the trembling was undoubtedly from the tremendous amounts of pain he was feeling. But I also sensed something else in his voice. Fear.

  “I wouldn’t peg you as a news kinda guy,” I quipped as I pushed his face into the brick.

  “Look. Take what you want, man. Just don’t fucking kill me! Please don’t fucking kill me!” He was pleading, as tears streamed down his ghost white complexion.

  “The money,” I growled into his ear.

  “It’s in my coat man. Take it! Just let me go!” Still propping him up with the baton, I reached my free hand around and grabbed the cash from his front coat pocket and then stuffed it into Tom’s army sack.

  “See how easy that was? You did good, my friend,” I hissed into his ear. “Now when I let you go I expect you to

  run and not try to fight back. Is that understood?”

  “God yes! Just let me go, I swear to fucking Christ I won’t tell anyone about you!” His cooperation had made the venture almost cordial.

  “I don’t give a shit who you tell about this.” I released the steel rod that had been supporting him by his shattered rib cage and backed away. His limp body fell to the pavement. “I just might recommend another line of work.” I stepped backwards and then turned to leave the alley.

  With the creep on the ground behind me, I peered out to make sure no one was watching or waiting for me to come out. It was at that exact moment I heard the click from the asphalt behind me. Without hesitation I dove to the ground and rolled to my left. Two bullets just missed me as they came screaming out to the street. Barely bringing myself to my feet, I lunged towards the temporarily crippled man in gray. Before I could get a hold on him, he scurried backwards on his hands and feet, crab walk style, leaving the gun behind.

  “Now that just wasn’t nice,” I told him as I stepped closer. “I thought we had an agreement.”

  Trembling with fear, the man winced in pain as he tried to get to his feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please. Please, buddy. Just don’t kill me!” His pathetic wails combined with the two gunshots let off twenty seconds earlier were going to begin to draw unwanted attention.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” I roared. He lamely scrambled into the dark of the alley in such pain I probably could have caught him with a brisk walk. As he tried to make his way behind the two brownstones, I leaned down and picked up the revolver he had left on the ground. With little effort, I pointed the gun in his direction and squeezed the trigger until the chambers were completely empty. Inches from safety behind the brick building, the man in gray fell to the ground howling. Although I was gunning for his ankles, he laid on the pavement clutching his knee. I really needed to work on my aim.

  Serenaded by his screams for help, I parted ways with the man in gray and strolled out of the alley. I slid off the sunglasses and gloves and tucked them into Tom’s bag, along with my new revolver. Reaching into my pocket and pulling out my phone, I again dialed Twisty.

  Where the hell are you? She chastised me over the receiver.

  “I might be a little late. It’s such a nice day, I thought I’d walk.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  By the time I had walked the seventeen blocks home, Mema was just finishing up from the lunch rush. A few regulars filled the seats, greeting me with smiles or waves as I entered. Mema was at the counter, packing up a to-go order. Her energy consistently impressed me, considering she would typically do as much business as Tully’s did for a lunch shift and all without the help of a thirty person staff. There were never complaints and every customer always left happy. The woman was amazing.

  Walking around the counter, I put my arms around her shoulders from behind and pulled her in for a hug.

  “Good morning, Queen of the Italian Bistro.”

  “Good afternoon, King of staying out all night and stinking of God knows what.” She gripped my arms in her hands to return the hug, then quickly pushed me away. “Is your shower working all right?” She inquired half jokingly.

  “Oh c’mon! Tell me you don’t love it!” I raised my armpit to her nose, wafting my scent with the other hand.

  “You are a filthy pig. I don’t understand what all those women see in you.” Mema was not blind to the number of girls that had traipsed though her kitchen late at night to visit me in my tiny apartment.

  “It must be the way you raised me,” I teased back.

  “I started when you were sixteen. I take no responsibility for what happened to you, except for your ability to cook. When you do settle down, Mrs. Blank can thank me for that.”

  “Mrs. Blank?” I scoffed. “If I got married I’d have to leave my luxurious digs over the kitchen. No way! I’m staying right where I am.”

  “You can stay until I lose my mind and adopt another orphaned street rat. Then, my dear, you will be on your own.”

  “A heart of gold on you, I tell ya.” I kissed he
r on the cheek. “Well, I’m gonna go see what I can do to get some of this smell off of me!” I headed for the stairs.

  “Please do,” she called behind me.

  “Oh! And Dominick is coming by today for a late lunch,” I informed her needlessly before I ascended the staircase.

  “I know. He already called and requested my special stromboli. Such a nice boy. I guess that’s what happens when your parents don’t leave you in a dumpster and raise you with love and adoration instead.” Mema’s sense of humor was biting, and for the most part always unexpected. “Go shower, you street urchin.” She flashed me a warm smile.

  I belched in her direction, affectionately blew it her way and disappeared up the steps.

  As always, my uniform was waiting for me, neatly pressed and wrapped in plastic courtesy of Mr. Chin. It felt good to not have to wear the oxford and vest that night. Even on my days off I would frequently go to Tully’s just to see if I could pick up a shift. That particular evening I had no such desire.

  It had become clear to me that the best way to enjoy the piss strong shower in my apartment was to brutally beat someone, or a few someones, while sustaining one, or several, critical wounds the night before. The lukewarm liquid dribbling over my body would normally do little more than frustrate me, and give me reason to evacuate the stall as soon as possible. However, that morning and the one prior, I was thankful to have a place to let my mind shut off and my muscles relax.

  Once I finished my water meditation, I got myself dressed, grabbed the Army bag full of weapons and cash, and headed out. The cell phone display read two thirty, an hour before my lunch date with Dom. My trip to see Phil and Twisty would have to be short. Running past Mema in the kitchen, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and told her I’d be back in an hour. I could realistically walk to Phil and Jim’s apartment in five minutes, but with a quick pace, I got there in three.