Memoirs Of An Antihero

by Drew Blank

  “The Freak vs. Blueboy. Imagine how much that could pull in on Pay-Per-View?” Jim illustrated Phil’s point further.

  “That dude is seriously fucked up. I probably shoulda killed him,” I said in hindsight. “You know what’s really funny, though? The video shows Randy running. There’s no way for him to lie to everybody at work about what a tough guy he is. It’s clear as day.” I laughed at the thought of ridiculing him later at work.

  “I am going to take a guess that will be the least of his concerns,” Jim said while staring intently at his monitor. “Check this out.” Peering over Jim’s shoulder I saw the headline running along the top of his screen.

  Freak’s Fifth Victim of the Evening Found

  “They found the college kid,” Jim summarized, “about two miles away on the side of the street with a bullet in his head.”

  “Jesus,” I said, slightly stunned. “Carver really is a sick fuck.”

  “It goes on about how this kid was a straight A student, top of his class, blah blah blah. It makes no mention as to why he would have been in that house with five known drug dealers.”

  “So, you think Carver tagged Randy too?” I asked.

  “It says here the last person seen in the video is under police surveillance. I am assuming that is Randy,” Jim said while wiping his glasses with the bottom of his shirt.

  “Is it wrong that I kinda hope he doesn’t die?” I asked.

  “No,” Phil told me, “it makes you human. Go with that emotion.”

  “Very funny, asshole,” I snapped back at Phil’s implication that the killing I had done might make me somehow less human. “Might I remind you that you are the one who wants me toting around a whole arsenal of guns? I would say I am working as non-lethally as I can.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just messing around with you,” Phil said apologetically. “So, how are you feeling today, by the way?”

  “Surprisingly great. My back was a little sore when I woke up, but considering I took a bullet and a crack from a baseball bat, I’d say I’m doing alright.”

  “Well, I’m working on pinpointing your next gig. I’ll give you a few days to get your rest,” Phil told me.

  “Good. Not that I’m going to get that much rest. I have to work tonight,” I told him. “Do you have any idea how much it sucks having to work my ass off for a measly hundred bucks when I have a hundred grand sitting here?” I pointed to the cases on the counter.

  “Then quit. Do this full time,” Phil encouraged me.

  “I can’t. You seem to forget that one of my best friends is investigating the octo…octa…octagonal homicide…”

  “Octuple,” Jim corrected me.

  “Okay, fine. One of my best friends is investigating an octuple homicide that I am in the center of. The last thing I need to do is quit my job and draw suspicion,” I explained.

  “You’ve got a point,” Phil conceded. “Yeah, that’s gotta suck then.” He chuckled.

  “Well, at least I have Twisty there with me. It’s almost like not working, except for the customers and shitty managers part.”

  “What time do you work?” Phil asked.

  “I gotta be there around four-thirty. You think Randy will show up with his police escorts?” I joked.

  “That would be awesome. It would be like secret service following him around,” Phil said while holding a finger to his ear, impersonating an agent. “He’s making an Apple-tini. Cover him.”

  “Now that is something I would like to see,” I said as I headed for the door. “Well gents. I am certainly more at ease than I was when I first got the news. I am now going to visit my little girl and then get my ass to work. If you need me, you know where I can be reached.” Accompanied by their goodbyes, I saw myself out and headed down the stairs to the bike I had made no attempt to park earlier.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  I had gotten into the habit when entering Reggie’s place of coming in quietly. Since Moxie had taken up residence on the couch, there was no way of knowing if she would be asleep or awake when I came in and I hated the thought of waking her up. That morning, I poked my head in and Moxie was out like a light, sitting upright on her pile of pillows with the light from the TV dancing on her pale skin. Reggie was in the kitchen, silently cleaning up.

  “Hey,” I mouthed to Reggie with a wave. Once I got inside the kitchen I raised my voice to a whisper. “How’s she doing today?”

  “Same,” Reggie answered solemnly. “She was up most of the night coughing, dry heaving a few times. She’s been watching the news all morning, obsessed with this Freak guy.”

  “Really?” A video of some guy beating up a bunch of other guys did not seem like Moxie’s normal fare. “That’s kinda weird.”

  “I tried telling her maybe she should watch something a bit more upbeat, but she ignored me. It’s not worth a fight. She finally fell asleep during commercials.” We both looked over at the peaceful, bald angel, asleep by the glow of the television. “I can’t believe they finally got video of that asshole. I hope they give him the fucking chair.” Reggie’s venom was still thick over losing her hump buddy to The Freak.

  “Yeah, he seems like a weird guy.” I made an attempt to act concerned with what Reggie was saying, while trying to not roll my eyes. “Dom’s on the case, so if I hear anything I’ll let you know.”

  “That’d be cool. Be nice to have an inside scoop.” Reggie took a moment from cleaning to rest herself against the counter. “Ya think when they catch him Dom can arrange a minute or two for me to kick his ass a little?”

  “Something tells me you would not be first in line for that,” I told her, thinking of all the people that would love to take a minute to beat The Freak without restraint.

  “True.” I actually got Reggie to chuckle a little, which I was pretty sure she needed. “Hey, are you going to be hanging out for a while?” Reggie abruptly changed the subject, much to my delight.

  “I gotta leave here by three thirty so I can get home and change before work. If you have things you need to do, take off. I got this.” I offered to Reggie. It would be nice to get her out of the house so I could talk to Moxie about her new fixation without interruption. It did seem very out of character, as it would be for any six year old, for her to be so interested in the news. I needed to pry.

  “Thanks. I do have some things I need to get taken care of. You sure you’ll be okay?” It was funny to hear Reggie ask me if I could handle our daughter’s care, as she had just recently decided to take on the role of mother. But I decided to let it slide.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about us. It’s not like I can shave her head or anything.” It may have been an ill-timed joke as Reggie simply closed her mouth tightly and left the kitchen. It seemed the head shaving incident was still a sore subject.

  “I’ll be back before three-thirty. Have fun.” Reggie grabbed her coat and purse off the back of the recliner and quietly headed out.

  Kneeling down beside the couch, I ran my hand over Moxie’s head and kissed her cheek. Without opening her eyes, she reached out and grabbed my arm, nuzzling close to me. As uncomfortable as it was, I could have stayed like that for days. After about ten minutes, she began to stir and slowly lifted her eyelids.

  “Daddy?” she whispered to me.

  “Yes, Pumpkin?” I again kissed her, but this time her

  forehead. “Can I get you anything?”

  “My water, please.” She reached her arm over her head as if trying to reach the table behind the couch.

  “I’ll get it baby. Just rest.” I retrieved the huge plastic mug she had gotten from the hospital at her first treatment, with the curly straw twisting out the top.

  “Thank you Daddy.” She took a long sip before she said another word. The chemo had been making her mouth excessively dry. She explained it best by saying it was like eating cotton balls. As grotesque a thought as that was to me, I am sure her imagery adequately described how it felt. “I missed you,” she said before squeezing
my arm again.

  “Missed you too, sweetie.” I pulled myself in close. “How ya feelin’?”

  “Tired. I didn’t sleep much.” She yawned as she released her hold, but continued nuzzling me.

  “Well, why don’t you try to get some more sleep then? Do you have a big date or something?” I joked, rubbing my hand on the soft stubble along the top of her head.

  “I will. But I wanted to talk to you.” She propped herself back up, not completely letting go of me, but freeing me up to move and get comfortable. “I had a question.”

  “Okay. Shoot,” I told her, not quite sure what her inquiry could be about.

  “Are you the man on the news?” If I had to make a list of the top one thousand things I thought Moxie could be wondering about at that moment, my identity as a street-fighting vigilante would not have been one of them.

  “What?” I asked, trying to put her off. “What man?”

  “The Freak. The news was showing him and I thought it was you,” she said in a tone more curious than accusatory.

  “What makes you think that could be me, sweetheart?” I was admittedly very nervous. Moxie was an extremely observant kid and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fool her with stupid lies.

  “I dunno. I just know how you move, and it’s exactly like him.” She tilted her head, as she always did when she was puzzled, “and he’s wearing those Halloween boots you had, but you never wore them on Halloween.” She was too damned smart.

  “You really think that’s me?” I wanted to feel her out before admitting to anything. If I felt there was some doubt in her mind I would capitalize on that and try to convince her otherwise.

  “I was pretty sure it was you.” She looked me straight in the eyes and asked “Was it?”

  I couldn’t lie to her. Not like that. “Yeah.” I bit my bottom lip, forcing myself to keep eye contact and not divert her gaze. “It’s me.” I exhaled so forcefully it was an effort to catch my breath again.

  “Why did you do that?” The last thing I wanted Moxie to think was that this was her fault, but I needed her to know I had a good reason. There was no point in breaking her confidence.

  “They were bad people, sweetheart. Bad people with lots of money that we could use to get you better.” I didn’t want to over simplify and treat her like she was just some dumb kid, but the reality was very complex.

  “So, you… you killed all those people?” She stumbled over her words, almost as if she were afraid to ask the question.

  “No, baby.” It was apparent convincing her of the truth was going to take some work. “I know the news is saying I killed them, but I didn’t. The man who was taking the video did it. He’s a really bad guy.”

  “But that was you beating them all up?” I couldn’t shake my curiosity as to how many times she had watched the video footage. The best way to defend myself and my actions was going to be recounting the whole evening to her, including Benji Carver. She listened to the entire story without interrupting once. She simply sat on the couch, mesmerized by my tale. When I finished it seemed she had a better understanding of why I did what I did. It did not, however, put an end to the questions. Inevitably, a question came up that I was not all too excited to answer.

  “So, what about the other times? The news said you killed other people, too.” She was obviously referring to the Lola incident at Head Knockers. “Did you do that?” I had never considered telling Moxie about my dual life, so I was horribly unprepared for the conversation we were having. Every father wants to be a hero to his child, but when the last thing you want is to be a hero to the rest of the world, you find yourself in quite a predicament. The killing obviously bothered her, and with good reason. It had taken me years to develop the thick skin and hatred for these corrupt degenerates, to devalue their lives the way I had. Her shining optimism and general goodness made it difficult to grasp the idea that the world is better off without some people.

  “Yeah. Yeah I did.” I hung my head, not in shame, but simply out of sadness. Disappointing Moxie was something I had hoped I would never do, but I think I had done it. Again captivating her in my stories, I gave her a recap of the night I met Lola, omitting anything making reference to a strip club or the over- abundance of flesh that peppers the tale. I tried to emphasize that my actions were all done in self-defense, or at least out of self-preservation. Her expression was hard to read when I finished.

  “Would you ever kill someone that had money, but wasn’t a bad guy?” She was still trying to process everything I had told her. The fact that she still referred to people as good guys and bad guys made me chuckle. Life can seem so simple through a six year old’s eyes. Oddly enough, sometimes it is that simple.

  “No, baby. Never. I really tried the other night not to hurt anyone too badly. If I had known that crazy guy was going to shoot them, I might not have even gone to the house.” Even the harmless lies began to hurt me.

  “It looks like you didn’t try really hard, Daddy.” Her mouth had curved up into a smile as the sarcasm dripped from her lips. She had a valid point, however. My intent to keep Carver’s pack of minions breathing was there, but the video made it rather obvious I did not care what condition they were in beyond that.

  “I promise, sweetheart. I did it for us.” I leaned in and kissed her velvet-like stubbled head. “Now we can get you the best treatment anywhere.”

  “I love you, Daddy.” She again squeezed my arm and then lay back on her pillow, “even if you are kinda crazy.”

  “Thanks, pumpkin. I love you too.” I squeezed her hand tightly.

  “Daddy?” I knew the conversation was far from over even though she was fading.

  “Yes, baby?” I asked as I leaned against her from the floor.

  “Was Mom’s friend one of the people you killed?” That kid was just too damn smart.

  “Yeah,” I told her truthfully. “He was a pretty bad guy. Did you ever meet him?”

  “He came over once. He was kinda mean to Mom,” Moxie revealed, “and he wasn’t very nice to me, either.”

  “Why? What did he do?” Any lingering guilt I may have had about beating Eddie to death with a frying pan was dwindling.

  “Nothing. He was just sorta mean. He was like a bully and he wouldn’t ever talk to me. I shoulda known he was a bad guy.” Moxie seemed content with the idea of me doing away with her mother’s boyfriend.

  “Well, just so you know, I will never kill somebody just because they are kinda mean.” I chuckled while lightly poking her ribs. Her giggles were natural, but tired. Our conversation seemed to be enough for her that day. She needed some sleep. Before she dozed off, however, I needed to know one last thing.

  “Baby?” Her eyelids were heavy as I spoke.

  “Yeah, Daddy?” She asked dreamily.

  “Have you told your mother about any of this?” While I doubted Reggie would have been acting so cool earlier if she knew my secret, I had to know for sure.

  “Of course not.” Her crooked smile revealed the exhaustion in her face. “It’s our secret.” She gripped my hand and pulled it to her cheek as she closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  “Moxie knows.” I snuck up behind Twisty as she was gathering rolled silverware from underneath the drink station, getting ready for the shift ahead of us.

  “Holy fucking shit!” She yelled much too loudly for open hours. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” With the hand not full of napkin rolls she punched me in the sternum. “Now what did you say?”

  “I said Moxie knows. She saw the news,” I explained as I helped Twisty carry silverware to her section.

  “So, she knew just from seeing you?” Twisty seemed confused.

  “Yeah. Basically,” I told her.

  “That’s crazy,” Twisty responded in awe.

  “Well, she also recognized the boots I was wearing as the ones I had lying around my room,” I admitted.

  “Never occurred to you to maybe hide those?
” Twisty quipped.

  “Well, it did after she found them,” I said, “but it was a little too late then.”

  “You’re such a moron.” Twisty poked fun as we set up her eight top. “I guess it’s not too hard to believe, though. Like, I saw on TV something about these identical quintuplets and the parents were saying that the kids never confuse one another. They just know one from the other. Mox is pretty well connected to you. I wouldn’t be shocked if she saw right through that costume.”

  “Yeah. She’s not a dumb kid. I gotta give her credit,” I said, straightening up the table’s condiments.

  “So what was her reaction?” Twisty asked while polishing a saltshaker with an already filthy towel.

  “The killing concerns her. She believed that I didn’t kill anyone last night, but she figured out I was the guy that killed Eddie.”

  “Yikes.” Twisty inhaled sharply as if in pain. “She knows you killed her mom’s boyfriend? How’d that go over.”

  “First off, he wasn’t Reggie’s boyfriend,” I explained. “They were fuck buddies, at best. Second, Moxie didn’t like the guy anyway. She thought he was a bully.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Twisty said as she went around to her next table.

  “Yeah, but she sees me as some sort of hero.” I shook my head as I vented. “And as much as I wanna be her hero, that whole thing just isn’t for me. I can’t be that guy that busted up the robbery at Mr. Chin’s. If there isn’t a payday in it for me, I really have no incentive to put my life on the line.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t really be putting your life on the line with the new suit.” I knew that deep down Twisty wanted me to become a hero too, and any chance she got she would try to influence me.

  “Well, I probably wouldn’t have puked had I been in the new suit, you’re right,” I gave in to her point. “But I am still risking my life every time I step outta the house as The Freak.”

  At that moment I heard a shriek from outside the kitchen doors.