by Lou Harper
“So Joey’s in charge,” Sam said, more to himself than Adam.
That explained a whole lot. He watched Jay exiting the store, impossibly young and ghostly looking under the sick fluorescent lights. For a second a cold shiver ran down Sam’s spine.
“He won’t stop looking for you,” Adam reminded Sam. It was unnecessary.
Spotting Sam, Jay started walking toward him. The man in flannel got back into the pickup and started to move. Sam tensed, but the truck pulled out onto the street and sped away.
“I know. Listen, I won’t be calling again. If you hear from Carla, tell her I love her, and I’m sorry I missed her wedding.”
“She understands. Doesn’t mean she’s forgiven you.”
Jay stopped in front of Sam, blocking his view. Sam nudged him to the side.
“I know,” Sam said.
“What are you going to do now?”
“You remember Frankie’s vacation spot?”
“Yeah, what do you—”
“If Jones calls you, tell him to look for me there. I can’t get through to him. But tell him to keep it to himself.”
“Be careful.”
“I will. Goodbye, Adam.” Sam hung up.
Well, that was taken care of. He’d warned Adam, even if it didn’t do any good. If anyone listened in on the call they’d know that Sam wasn’t going to Boston. Maybe that would keep Adam out of harm’s way. If they managed to trace the call they’d think that Sam was driving east, as he wanted them to think. It was risky, letting them pinpoint his latest position, but he was fairly sure he had time to get far enough away.
“Who was that?” Jay asked.
“My brother,” Sam said, heading back to the car. He took the driver’s seat.
“I didn’t know you had a brother. Are you close?” Jay asked, buckling himself in.
“No. I do my best to stay out of his hair, and he’s thankful for it.”
“But I thought—”
“We’re still blood.”
Instead of getting back on the I-90, Sam got on the 79 going south, toward Hot Springs, South Dakota. He had a map, but he didn’t need it. He’d researched and memorized all the possible escape routes years ago. He’d always known this day would come. It was just real fucking bad timing that it came now. If only it was a few months sooner or later it would be only him in the hot water. It was a big fucking cosmic message to Sam—don’t get involved, you don’t get to have that. Everyone you touch is condemned.
“What was that about a vacation spot?” Jay asked, shaking Sam out of his thoughts.
“Uncle Frank loved going to Florida in the winter. He had a place there.”
“So we’re going to Florida?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m confused.”
“There’s a good chance that Adam’s phone’s bugged. That little clue is something Nicky can probably piece together. I hope they’ll fall for it and look for us in Florida.”
“Oh.”
Sam kept driving till the bottom edge of the sky started to glow pink. He stopped at a seedy-looking little motel somewhere south of Hot Springs. He checked in under the name of Tony Kolek. He had the driver’s license to prove it was him. Before bedding down he changed the license plates on the car, and hauled their bags into the room. He put the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob and fell into bed next to Jay. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
The next day, around noon, Sam found himself wrapped around Jay. Jay lay on his stomach, Sam half on top of him, arms curled around Jay’s smaller body. Their skin was slick with sweat where they touched. Sam nuzzled the nape of Jay’s neck. It was warm and damp.
“About time you woke up,” Jay grumbled.
“How long have you been up?”
“At least half an hour. Couldn’t move. You sleep like a log, and you’re heavy as one too.”
Despite everything, the events of the last couple of days, his troubled dreams, Sam had a boner. If they were back in Coldwater it would’ve been the most natural thing to have a morning quickie. He wouldn’t even have had to ask if Jay wanted to—he always did. But now everything was different. Acting like nothing had changed would be a bad idea. He rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom.
“You’re Sam Mayne, and you’re fucked.” His reflection scowled back at him.
Sam brushed his teeth, showered, but decided not to shave.
Coming out of the bathroom Sam found Jay crouching by Sam’s open bag, staring at Sam’s collection of fake IDs and license plates.
Jay looked up. “Paranoid much?”
“It’s not paranoia if they really are trying to kill you.”
“Ah. Weren’t you gonna explain that part?”
“Not on an empty stomach.”
Sam stopped at a convenience store to stock up on sugary junk food, water and a couple of disposable cell phones. He also picked up some sandwiches and sodas. He would’ve preferred real food, but didn’t want to stop anywhere where they could be remembered till they got farther away. They were too distinctive as a pair.
Chadron State Park was along their route, so Sam pulled in. He paid the entrance fee and drove around till he found a deserted picnic area. They settled by a table with their sandwiches and sodas. Jay frowned at the convenience-store fare, but kept his peace. Instead he stared expectantly at Sam, who in turn kept his attention on his food. He wasn’t sure where to begin.
“You remember when I told you that I was half-Italian?” he said at last, crumpling up the sandwich wrapper and chucking it into the trash can.
“You lied?” Jay asked around a mouthful of food.
“No. My mother was Italian. Her grandfather came over from Palermo. My dad, on the other hand, he was a bit of everything, large part Polish. He died when I was five.”
“That sucks.”
Sam shrugged. That was neither here nor there. “It was hard on my mother, raising the three of us kids. Her brother helped out. I was Uncle Frankie’s favorite. He took me under his wing. My mother hated it, but couldn’t exactly say much about it.”
“Was he a mobster?” Jay asked, with that sparkle in his eyes that told Sam he’d probably watched too many mobster movies and thought it was romantic. Fucking Coppola and Scorsese.
“Nah, but he was connected. He hooked me up so I could make some money even as a kid. You remember that pizza joint I told you about? It was a Mob front.”
“What about your siblings?”
“My older brother Adam was super smart, straight-A student, and very driven. If any of us kids were to go to college, it was gonna be him. He’s a doctor now. My sister Carla was the youngest. As a girl, all that was expected from her was to find a husband.”
“Very enlightened.”
Sam shrugged again. He sat facing the road. He didn’t exactly expect Nicky Torino to drive up, but there was no reason to let his guard down. However the only action he saw was two squirrels chasing each other around the trunk of a tree.
“That was it? You were in the Mob, just like that?” Jay asked.
Sam kept watching the squirrels. “It started innocently enough, running some errands, that sort of stuff. Next thing I knew I was working for Big Sal Gianco.”
“Who?”
Sam turned his attention back to Jay, suppressing a groan. It wasn’t the kid’s fault he didn’t know shit about the Mob. “The head of one of the Chicago families. Big Sal is an old-school mobster, smart. He stayed the boss for thirty years both by being ruthless and not attracting attention.”
“And you worked for him?”
“Yeah, I was a driver, muscle, bag man, whatever. If some guy owed Big Sal money and wouldn’t pay, they’d send a guy like me. That was usually enough. If not, a couple of broken bones would make the point.” Sam wasn’t gonna sugarcoat it. The more clear Jay was about him, the better.
“I’m guessing they didn’t know you were gay.”
Leave it to Jay to bring that up. Sharp kid.
“There are no gays in the Mob.” Not live ones, anyway.
“How did you do it?”
“I dated women. I had a reputation for being a dog. The other guys thought I was some hot shit.”
They were mostly skanks he went out with. That way Sam hadn’t felt bad using them. He’d never dated nice girls.
“This Nicky Torino is a mobster too? And he’s after you?” Jay pushed on.
“Nicky’s dangerous as hell, but he’s just a soldier. He’s not the real problem.”
“Then who is?”
“Joey Gianco.”
“Okay, who the fuck is Joey Gianco?” Jay asked, obviously losing patience.
“Big Sal’s only son. A sadistic, sick little fuck. He’s the complete opposite of Sal, a real loose cannon. Back in the day, Sal made me work for Joey, thought I could keep Joey in line.”
“You couldn’t?”
“Not enough.”
Sam gathered up and disposed of the remains of their meal. They were getting to the part of the conversation he really loathed.
“What happened?” Jay asked.
Vince happened. “There was this kid, Vince. He joined up when I was working for Joey. Vince was young and a fool. His father had been a soldier for Sal, got killed. Vince and his mother were taken care of.”
“That’s very Godfather.”
“So it is. Vince was an only child and his mother spoiled him stupid. He never should’ve joined the family, he didn’t hide his queerness well, but he was blinded by the easy money.”
Sam looked away, scanning the road, the trees. He was aware of Jay watching him like a hawk.
“You liked him, didn’t you?”
Shit. The little bastard was too smart for his own good.
“Yeah, I liked the stupid little fucker,” Sam admitted.
He looked away and kept silent while gathering his thoughts. “Vince was beautiful and reckless. He was the only one who saw through my cover. I tried to warn him, tell him how to conceal who he was, but he didn’t get it. He thought he was invincible. He called me a coward. I told him he would get us both killed. He didn’t listen.”
“And?” Jay’s eyes were wide open with apprehension.
“Joey found out somehow. He beat Vince to death with a baseball bat. Nicky and Gino Rizzi watched the whole thing. They told me. I saw Vince’s body in the trunk of Gino’s car before they went to get rid of it. It was a big fucking joke to them. The things they were saying… They didn’t know I was the same; Vince didn’t give me up.”
“Fuck.”
“I snapped. I went to the FBI. I gave up Joey Gianco. They never got him for Vince’s murder, there wasn’t enough evidence, but they got him for other stuff. He got fifteen years. I got life in witness protection.”
Sam didn’t mention the length he went to, to keep from the Feds anything that would be directly damaging to Big Sal. Not because he expected Sal to cut him any slack. It wasn’t about that.
“Oh.” It looked like Jay was starting to get the gist of the whole fucked-up and incredibly dangerous situation.
Sam summed it up for him. “Now Joey is out, Big Sal is dying, and there’s nobody to keep the sick little fuck under control. And he wants me dead in a very bad way—dead being the very least of it.”
“He can’t find you though, can he? It’s a big country, and you have all these false IDs.”
“He wasn’t supposed to find me the first time around.”
“But—”
“We need to get going.”
Chapter Eight
SR: I got something from Boston.
NT: Interesting. Maybe it’s time to take a trip and lean on the brother.
SR: I’m sure after what happened in Chicago the FBI would love to see you try.
It was safe to say that Jay was rattled after the curveballs the previous day had thrown at him. Like, fuck, they were running from the Mob! Exactly like in a movie, except in real life it was far less thrilling. The movies never showed hours and hours of sitting on your ass and looking out the car window, watching boring landscape roll by. Not that he was stupid enough to wish for excitement. He took the situation seriously—Sam was clearly spooked, and whatever had that effect on Sam had to be taken seriously. It was just that being on the lam from psychotic Mob heavies seemed abstract while sitting in a blue Honda, driving through South Dakota…no scratch that, Nebraska. It was too mundane.
And then there was Sam. Sam who’d sent him away—dropped him like a ton of bricks—but not really. When it happened it hurt like hell, but he hadn’t been truly surprised. No matter how good the sex had been, or how well they had gotten along, there’d always been a little voice in the back of his mind telling him it wouldn’t last. So when Sam had put him on the bus, it wasn’t a shocker. Learning that Sam had done it just to get him out of harm’s way was unexpected. Jay doubted any of the guys he’d ever been in any kind of relationship with would’ve done anything like that for him.
He knew he’d always fallen for guys too easily. So much so that he stopped trusting his instincts in that respect, but could it be possible that just this once he wasn’t wrong? That the persistent feeling of closeness to Sam wasn’t just his overactive imagination? The way Sam clasped him the night before, like he could’ve been snatched away from him in the middle of the night made him think he was right.
“That was nice of you,” he said.
“What?” Sam asked, visibly snapping out of his thoughts.
“Back in Coldwater you wasted time putting me on the bus. You could’ve just taken off without a word. That was nice.”
Sam looked at him as if Jay had grown a second head. “And leave you there for Nicky to find?”
Jay shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
Sam gave him another one of those looks, then reached over with his right hand and put it on Jay’s nape. “I’m not gonna leave you in the lurch, Tiger. I’ll get you out of this mess safely, okay?” He gave Jay’s shoulder a squeeze, then put his hand back on the wheel and turned his eyes back to the road.
He stared at Sam’s determined profile and his heart danced in his chest. Jay knew at that very moment he was a goner. Sam was strong, sexy as hell and he actually gave a shit what happened to Jay. Compared to that, being an ex-mobster was an irrelevant detail, as far as Jay was concerned. He had to change the subject before he said something embarrassing.
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t you just call the FBI?”
“Because I don’t trust them.”
“You don’t trust the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”
“Every institution has weak spots. They can all be breached if you try hard enough. Especially now, with everything on computers. All you need is to find one person with the right security clearance to grease or squeeze. That private dick found us somehow. I haven’t been in contact with anyone from my old life for five years. You knew nothing about nothing. My money is on the FBI. If we call them we might end up more dead than we already are.”
“That’s cheery.”
“The one person I’m trying to call isn’t picking up.”
Sam pulled a disposable cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to Jay.
“There are two numbers pre-programmed. The first one is the number of my phone. The second is Special Agent Arlen Jones. You memorize both numbers. If something happens…if we get separated, you call him. You keep calling him. You don’t talk to anyone else but him. You don’t call the cops, your friends or relatives. Got it?”
“Jeez, yes. You must really trust him.”
“You don’t spend six months day and night with someone without getting to know them a little.”
“That must have been some six months.” Jay knew the jealous pang he felt was altogether unreasonable, but he couldn’t help it.
Sam looked at him, baffled for a second, then broke out in hearty laugh. “No, no, no. He was one of the US Marshalls on my protection detai
l before and during the trial. Straight as a fucking arrow. He switched to the FBI later.”
“And you hit it off just like that?”
“Hell no. He thought I was a scumbag, and I thought he was just another asshole with a badge. We were cooped up in a safe house for months on end. I had a hard time sleeping. He obviously couldn’t sleep on the job. So we played cards, chewed the fat. Eventually things came up.”
“Like what?”
“Like that we had more in common than we had thought—we had almost the same families, were raised to be tough, to suck it up. Boys don’t cry, all that shit. His wife didn’t like him risking his life protecting the law any more than my family liked me breaking it. At the bottom of it we were the same—soldiers. We both had a code.”
“A code?”
“Yeah. You can count on a man who has rules. I knew if I messed up, Jones would come after me with everything he’s got, but he wouldn’t sell me out for any amount. So that’s why he’s the only one from the whole fucking FBI I’m willing to call, but he’s not answering his phone, and that’s not good.”
“I see.”
They drove on in silence till something weird caught their eyes, on a field, not far from the road.
“What the hell?” Jay called out. There was something peculiar just ahead, to their left.
After a moment of hesitation, Sam turned the wheel down the dirt road and parked as close as he could to the thing. They got out of the car and walked up to the sculpture, installation, whatever the hell it was. Old cars painted gray were stacked around in a circle and on top of each other.
“I get it! It’s like Stonehenge with cars!” Jay said excitedly at last.
“The ‘Carhenge’ sign at the entrance would make me think so,” Sam replied.
“Oh. I missed it.”
He walked around, snapping pictures with his new phone for a few minutes, but then ran back to Sam who looked antsy to go.
“Memorize those phone numbers,” Sam reminded him once they were back on the road. “There will be a quiz later.”
After Carhenge, Jay dug out the road atlas to track their progress. He didn’t like what he saw. When they turned onto the I-76 west, he spoke up.