by Nicole Fox
Undoing the locks, he opened the door. Standing there, his hand balled into a fist and preparing to bang hard again, was Cory. On his face was a tight expression, something like panic and concentration mixed into one.
“There you are, bro!” said Cory, his voice erratic.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Cory,” said Russell. “You have no idea how close you were to me putting a pair of bullets right in your forehead.”
“You wouldn’t do that to your bro,” said Cory.
“When you’re in this fucking business, you just might.”
A moment of silence passed.
“Well, uh, are you gonna let me in?” asked Cory.
Russell sighed and moved his body. Cory scampered in like a lost puppy eager to get back into the safety of his home. His body language was strange—he seemed worn out and energetic all at the same time. Cory moved over to one of the couches and took a seat, but evidently decided as soon as he sat down that he wanted to be moving again, and got back up, pacing around the room. Russell flicked the safety back on his gun and, after taking a look outside for any other signs of danger, shut the door and locked all the locks.
“Tell me what the hell you’re doing here,” said Russell, crossing his thick arms over his beefy chest and staring hard at his brother. “And it better be important.”
“Um, it is,” said Cory, still fidgeting. “I was just thinking that, you know, since it’s been a little while since we pulled off the last sale, that it might be time for you to give me some of that money you’re holding onto of mine. I mean, it is my money, after all. Not good for you to be holding onto that. I mean, I earned it, fair and square. Well, I know it was an illegal sale, because, heh, that’s the business we’re in, but, um, you know what I mean. So I just came by to get my money so I can, you know, start on the next projects and shit I got in mind.”
Cory was rambling like a madman, and it didn’t take major perception skills to realize that something was seriously wrong with him. He reminded me of the night that he’d tried to come onto me, after he’d done his …
Then it hit me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” shouted Russell, his voice booming throughout the house. “You came all the fucking way uptown at the goddamn crack of dawn to get your money out of me? I know there’s only one goddamn reason why you’d be up this early, and it sure as fuck isn’t because you got up for a morning jog.”
“Yeah, so what?” asked Cory. “I’ve been up all night. I’ve just been, you know, working on some projects, getting some shit in order.”
“Yeah, ‘getting shit in order’,” said Russell. “You mean spending the entire fucking night high out of your mind and freaking out when you realized that you didn’t have any more cash for another hit.”
Cory’s eyes went wide, and even from where I stood I could see the cracks of red.
“No, bro,” said Cory. “You got it all wrong. I’ve just been, um, drinking a lot of coffee. That shit gets me fucking wired, you know?”
“Yeah,” said Russell. “You just had a couple cups of Folgers too many.”
“That’s right! I knew you’d believe me.”
Russell shook his head.
“Stay right the fuck where you are,” he said, leaving the room.
I stayed stone still, watching Cory sit fidgeting in his chair. After a time, he got up and started pacing around the room, picking up little bits of decoration here and there, looking them over with close, frantic eyes, and setting them back down. Just watching him move around like that made me feel tense, and gave me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Soon, Russell returned, a black gym duffel dangling from his hand. He dropped the bag onto the coffee table, where it landed with a heavy thud. Then Russell plopped into the seat across from his brother, who’d sat down when he’d heard Russell approach.
“Can’t even stay still for three fucking minutes,” said Russell, a trace of disappointment in his voice.
Cory didn’t respond. Instead, he pounced on the bag, opening it up so eagerly that I thought he might rip the zipper. The opened bag revealed stacks upon stacks of cash, and I realized that this was the money that the two of them had earned from the sale on the night I met them.
“Fuck, yeah,” said Cory rifling through the cash. “Fuck, yeah!”
As he went bananas over the money, Russell watched him with a disapproving stare. Finally, he spoke.
“I’m not happy, little brother,” said Russell.
Cory stopped what he was doing.
“What?” he asked. “What the fuck you talking about?”
“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. You’re high out of your damn mind.”
“No, bro, I—“”
Russell held up his hand, and Cory stopped right in the middle of his sentence.
“I swear to Christ, if you try to lie to me right now I’ll put you right through that fucking window.”
Cory remained stone-still.
“So,” said Russell. “I’m going to make a proposal. You’re my brother, but I’m beyond sick of dealing with these miserable fucking habits of yours. I brought out into this business out of a sense of kinship, but you can’t seem to keep your nose out of that fucking powder. And if it’s not the drugs, then it’s those fucking whores you’re spending your last dollars on trying to impress.”
“But it’s my money, bro!” said Cory, his tone defensive. “What difference does it make what I spend it on if I can still do the jobs?”
“Because junkies are the least reliable people on the goddamn planet,” he said. “And it’s only a matter of time before you fuck up in a major way because you’re strung out or thinking about that next bump.”
“No way!” said Cory. “I’d never do you dirty like that!”
Russell sighed.
“You remember that client we had, that ex-priest?”
“Of course I remember,” said Cory. “Pious fucking bastard.”
“I had a drink with him once, and he told me something that stuck with me,” said Russell, his voice calm. “He told me that man is ruled by his passions, and whoever wants to control the man simply needs to control that man’s passions. And I asked him to explain, but he just smiled that little smile of his, turned back to his drink, and told me that I’d learn eventually. Well, his words stuck in my head. At first, I thought he meant ‘passions’ as in things you like to do, like shit you’re passionate about.”
“Uh huh,” said Cory, turning his attention back to his money, his mind seemingly already on the drugs he could buy with it.
“But the more I thought about it and read about it, the more I realized that ‘passions’ just meant vices— the shit you do that gets the better of you. Sex, money, drugs, that kind of stuff. And the more we dealt with the scum who we used to work with, those drug-addicted losers who’d sell out their best friend for a hit, the more I understood what he said. See, when you’re a slave to something, all someone needs to do to make them your master is to control your access to that thing.”
“And what the hell does this Bible shit have to do with me?”
“This: you may be my brother, and you may love me, and mean it when you say it, but you, Cory, are a slave to your passions. And if we keep working together with you like this, moving up to work with the real heavy-hitters, one of them sooner or later is gonna find out that all they need to make you theirs is to dangle some coke or some pussy in front of your face. And they catch you on the right day, you’ll do whatever they say.”
“No fuckin’ way,” said Cory. “No way I’d betray my own brother!”
“You say that, but vices have a way of taking over your mind. They’ll warp your thoughts until you find some justification for fucking me over.”
“Bu—“”
“Not another word,” said Russell. “I told you I have a proposition, and here it is: you can get up right now, without a dollar of that money in your pocket, get your ass back to that shit
ty apartment of yours, and take a few days to sober up. You do that, we can still work together, so long as you don’t slip up. Or, you can take that bag of your money, walk out the door, and do whatever the fuck you want with it. Spend it all on meth and Brazilian she-males; I don’t give a shit. But you do that, and we’re done. No more working together, and you’re out of my life. We’ll be blood, but that’s it.”
“Russ,” said Cory. “Think about what you’re saying! You can’t cut your own flesh and blood out of your life because I wanna spend the money I earned!”
“You know damn well that it’s about what you want to spend that money on,” said Russell.
Throughout all of this, I couldn’t help but notice how even and calm his tone was. He was giving the ultimatum to end all ultimatums to his brother, and he was as even-tempered as it got.
“So, think about it. You and I can get rich as shit together, little bro. I’ve got some plans in the works that’ll get you out of that shitty little apartment of yours, get you some money to save and make something out of your life with. Or, you can blow through that all in a week and be left right back where you are right now. Your choice.”
Cory’s face was twisted in indecision. He got up, paced around the room, ran his hands through his hair, and all-in-all looked the picture of spastic. The tension was getting to me, too; I felt a little drop of cool sweat dart down my forehead.
Cory sat as still as he could for a time, appearing to carefully consider Russell’s proposal.
Finally, he burst out of his chair. He lunged towards the bag, grabbing it by the strap and throwing it around his torso.
“You know what?” he said, his voice thin and shrill. “I don’t need this shit; I don’t need some older brother acting like he’s my fucking dad. I’m my own goddamn man, and I’m gonna take this fucking money and do my own thing, make my own empire. You know, bro, you’re not the only one who can make it in the world. And I’m gonna show you just how stupid you’re being for throwing your own flesh and blood out on the street like this!”
With that, he stomped towards the front door, opened it with a jerk, stepped out, and slammed it behind him. Once he was gone, Russell remained in the chair as if Cory had never left. After a time, however, he let his head slump down a bit.
I wasn’t sure whether or not he needed solitude, but I couldn’t bear to let him sit there like that. I walked slowly down the stairs, making my way towards Russell.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asked, not turning his head.
“Pretty much the whole thing,” I said.
“That stupid fuck,” said Russell. “That goddamn arrogant, drug-addict fuck.”
His words were harsh, but there was something strange in his tone, something that suggested there were more feelings at play than simple anger. I took a seat on the couch near Russell, my eyes lingering on his face for a long while.
“Now what?” I asked after a time.
“He’s gone,” said Russell. “He’s dead to me. He talked a big talk about being his own man, but I’ve been around enough junkies to know it was the smack talking. Once that shit gets into your brain it makes you think whatever it can to get that next hit into you. I thought putting his family at stake might’ve done the trick, made him see some sense. But I guess now I know just how far gone he is.”
I didn’t know what to do. I could sense that Russell was hurting, that beneath his impassive exterior there was pain. But Russell wasn’t the type to open up about something like that; that much was obvious.
So, after a few more moments, I stood up, walked over to him, and placed my hand on his shoulder. He didn’t react to my touch one way or the other, and I took that as a good sign. Maybe that was all he needed.
“Okay,” he said, after a long moment. “Enough of this shit. Sandor wants us both to go to LA for another deal, and we’re leaving this weekend. I hope you got some good practice in last night, because your urban geisha routine is just getting started.”
I took that as his sign that he was ready to move on.
And I was more than ready for whatever was next.
Chapter Fourteen
Alyssa
When our plane made the first curve over the ocean turning around the land at LAX, I couldn’t take my eyes off the vast blue expanse. Sure, I’d been living in New York City for years, but something about seeing the ocean on the other side of the country held some sort of special thrill for me. It might’ve been due to the fact that the ocean in New York was, well, nothing all that special. Sure, you could go to Coney Island every now and then if you wanted to see the beach, but anything other than that was just so much hassle. Not to mention that ’it wasn’t like Logan was the type to take me on fun excursions like that.
The plane started its descent, and as it did, the name “Logan” hung in my mind. As I sat next to Russell on that flight to Los Angeles, I couldn’t help but reflect on how my old life seemed like it was ages ago, despite it only being a couple of weeks since I’d made my escape from it. Everything with Russell had just so fast.
But I was more than happy with the direction my life was taking. Being with Russell was like nothing else that I’d ever experienced and as I waited for the flight to land, I couldn’t help but think about what was to come next with a little thrill in my heart.
After a smooth landing, the two of us made our way through LAX and to the car that Russell had rented in advance. The ride was a sleek, cherry-red convertible, and as I laid my eyes on it I could already feel the California wind blowing through my hair.
“Went for the convertible, huh?” I asked, eagerly anticipating sliding into the car.
Russell flashed me a sexy little grin.
“If you’re going to be driving in California, you might as well do it the right way.”
I couldn’t have agreed more. Soon, we were in the car and pulling out onto the freeway. Russell brought the top down and soon the warm wind was coursing through the car, a smile spreading across my face as I looked up at the cloudless blue sky. The weather was a wonderful little break from the chill that’d had New York in its grip for the last month, and I was ready to take advantage of it.
But as we made our way down the freeway, I couldn’t help but think about Cory, as strange as that sounds. While Russell and I were getting ready to make the next journey in our life together, Russell’s brother was likely in some rundown apartment, putting the last bits of money that he’d earned up his nose or into his arm. He could’ve been a part of all this if only he’d made the right decision that night at the townhouse. Cory was an odd guy, for sure, but watching someone turn his back on the only family he had so that he could walk headlong into the life of a junkie … it was hard to think about.
Russell, however, hadn’t said a single word about the issue, and I knew better than to pry. I hoped that he was dealing with it somehow, and not just burying it deep inside.
After a time, we arrived in Santa Monica, where Russell had rented us a house on the beach for the next couple of weeks while we took care of our business in the city. I couldn’t help but let a big grin break out on my face as we pulled up to the beautiful beachside home.
“This is amazing,” I said, stepping out of the car and looking the place over.
The home was built in the modern geometric style that I’d seen before when looking at pictures of houses in the Los Angeles area. The shape was like two large rectangular boxes stacked on top of one another, a still, calm pool wrapped around the side. Glass walls afforded us a look straight into the place, which was just as modern inside as it was on the outside.
“Sandor recommended this place,” said Russell, grabbing our bags out of the back of the car and bringing them up to the front doors. “In my opinion, you need two things when visiting LA: a convertible and a beachfront place.”
“No arguments here,” I said.
Russell dug a key out of his pocket and opened the front door, revealing the beautiful interior that I h
ad been able to see hints of from outside. I stepped into the vast living room, my jaw nearly on the floor as I took in the incredible design of the inside of the home. Making my way to the back of the house, I saw that the back wall was all glass, allowing for a stunning view of the beach and ocean beyond. I couldn’t wait to slip into a two-piece and spend some time splashing around in the water.
“Place work?” asked Russell, bringing in the last of the bags and shutting the door.
I couldn’t help but dash up to him and throw my arms around his neck.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
“Good,” he responded. “If all goes well, then this trip to LA will be the first of many. Lots of money to be made out here.”
Russell’s mention of his job brought back to mind just what he did to earn all of this. I told myself that I’d never forget the fact that despite how much I was enjoying this lifestyle, it was all because Russell was a criminal. A tight feeling formed in my stomach when I realized that if he was a criminal, then I was his accomplice.