by J. A. Marley
She was right. They were both soaked. Danny’s T-shirt was plastered against his chest and stomach, rain dripping off the end of his nose. He could make out the colour of her bra through her blouse, her skirt clinging to her legs, her long hair thickening with rain as she pushed it back off her face.
She looked down and grabbed his hand. She led him into the house, the two of them leaving wet footprints all the way to the side of the bed. She pulled his T-shirt up over his head, and he bent down to kiss her, enjoying the contrast of the warmth of her lips and the cold of the rainwater running down his face. She kicked off her shoes, quickly unzipping her skirt at the side and let it drop to the floor. Danny peeled off his shorts, surprising her with the fact that he wore no underwear.
And then, she stopped him, holding his face tight in both her hands. “Danny, this is a one-shot deal. I’m not kidding. We can’t be. There is no us. But there is an us right now. Let’s make the most of it.”
And she jumped up, knowing he would catch her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his head into a kiss that was deep and passionate. And as she tightened her thighs around him, she was in the perfect position to kick the bedroom door closed just before they both collapsed onto the bed.
In the morning, the world felt very bright and new. The storm had swept away the humidity of the day before and left the full force of spring in the air. Danny had woken alone in his bed, but the smell of coffee and the clink of cups told him he hadn’t been abandoned just yet. He rolled out of bed, stood up and walked out into his kitchen, a smile on his face followed by a stretch and a yawn, expecting to see Amparo.
“Jaysus… would ye put that away? Ye’ll have somebody’s eye out with it. Coffee will be brewed in two shakes…”
Danny turned away from Ciaran, going back into his bedroom. Nothing. There was no note. No forgotten piece of clothing. No earring left behind by mistake on the bedside table. And then, Danny felt it. Felt his heart sink and world become that little bit more closed.
Amparo had meant what she said. Every word. And his loneliness settled on him with hateful familiarity. He’d wanted something more. He’d fooled himself into fantasising that something more was possible. But at that moment, that morning he felt hollow and angry. Angry at himself, because he realised it was his own fleeting optimism that had led him to this point. These emotions.
A connection. Affection… even love. They weren’t supposed to be available to a man who had made the kind of choices he had. He couldn’t even have a relationship with God. Danny was thousands of miles away from home. He was embroiled in dark plans, some of them his, some of others’ making. And he had nowhere else to go. Nowhere to be. No one waiting on him to say a kind word or graze a kiss on their lips.
He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, the tangle of the sheets taunting him. Brief memories of passion, of wanting, and of being wanted.
Danny ran his hands over his face, pushing his fingers into his eyes, and sighed loudly.
A song drifted into his head, appearing from the deepest reaches of his brain.
“A taste of honey’s worse than none at all… ooo little girl in that case I don’t want no part. I do believe that would only break my heart…”
Honey? Danny thought. I never knew it could taste so bitter.
32
For the Love of God
The first two days of the mission had been frosty as far as June and Vincent Cardell were concerned.
In front of their assembled pilgrims, they were all warmth and togetherness. They preached side-by-side, they sang hymns, they prayed. To the outside world, they were the perfect evangelical couple, loving God and each other.
In private, there was a foul atmosphere between them. Uncomfortable silences, glares, and when they did speak, it was to deliver some malicious swipe. Not directed at each other but definitely about each other. It was poisonous.
But on the Saturday night, in front of the gathered faithful, Vincent surprised her. In a section of the proceedings that was supposed to focus on the sin of envy, the preacher asked the congregation to indulge him for a moment.
On the big screen behind him a huge image of him and June on their wedding day came into view. Vincent walked over to June who was standing on the altar and took her by the hand and led her to the centre.
“Pilgrims, in the good book, in Proverbs, the Lord says this, chapter twelve, verse four. ‘An excellent wife is the crown of her husband.’ Can you imagine the day, the day when I first laid eyes on my June? How my heart leapt that the grace of God had brought me into the presence of this angel. She keeps a beautiful home for us. She keeps me on an even keel when the storm of modern life attempts to blow us off course. Pilgrims, she reminds me, every single day, that God’s love finds its way into our lives via many routes, but none are more purely felt that the love of a wife for her husband.”
The crowd was clapping, applauding the words of love from a man of God for his life partner. They felt reaffirmed, reassured. Couples in the audience turned to one another, hugging, some kissing, saying they loved each other and praise be to God for it.
“And as I don’t often get the chance to give thanks to both our Lord and my beloved June, I wanted to take this chance, in front of all of you, to bear witness to her incredible dedication to me and the word of God.”
Vincent took both her hands in his, turning so that they were staring into each other’s eyes. He produced from his inside pocket a little box. “June, this is my way of thanking you. Thank you for being my wife. Thank you for journeying with me. Thank you for your devotion to me and to my vocation as God’s instrument on earth. And thank you for being involved in every, and I mean absolutely every, adventure in my life.” As he said it, June saw a cold glint in his eyes.
He handed her the box. She opened it, the crowd now on their feet, clapping, whooping like they were at a rodeo. Inside, it was a simply designed, gold cross on a gold chain. It was weighty, so she knew it was not cheap. Turning to look at the congregation, she held up the cross, knowing that one of the many cameras on the altar would capture the moment, transmitting it onto the screen behind them. The noise from the crowd went up another notch.
June turned back to Vincent. He put his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. With his face on the side of her face away from the applauding pilgrims, he whispered to her, careful not to let his microphone pick out his words.
“And, June, darling, the other half of that proverb quote goes like this. ‘but she who brings shame is like rottenness in his bones.’ The cross… it symbolises what I will do to you if you bring me shame… I will crucify you. Tomorrow is a big day. Our day. I hope you have not done anything to disappoint me.”
And he then kissed her, the throng whistling and cheering as he did it.
It was all June could do to stop herself from retching into his mouth right there and then.
Danny wasn’t at all surprised when Harkness showed up. He knew that the control freak could never have resisted a final visit. To reinforce that he was in charge of the overall situation.
“All right, my son? Are you ready to weave your dark magic in Miami tomorrow?”
He took the steps up onto Danny’s porch two at a time. Despite his tall, athletic frame, he was remarkably quick and light on his feet. His damaged eye seemed to shine brightly white in the gathering twilight. He held his hands wide in front of him, grinning.
Danny stayed in his seat, a cup of tea in his hand. “Why are you here, Harkness? What part of ‘stay the fuck away’ do you not understand?”
‘Oh, now, now, Danny. You know me. I like to remind colleagues of what’s at stake, and who is pulling the strings on a job.”
“And are you? Do you really believe that?”
“I have told you before. Why have a dog and bark yourself? I like it when you do my barking for me, Danny. You’re so very good at it.”
“You think you have all the angles covered, Harkness. Yet, your arroga
nce and supreme self-belief are your biggest weaknesses.”
Harkness was about to reply when he suddenly felt cold, hard metal being pressed into the base of his skull. The unmistakeable sound of a pistol being cocked loudly followed it. Ciaran had managed to sneak up the steps behind the big man. Danny was amazed, as it took stealth to mount the creaky, wooden steps.
“See? Not all your angles are covered, Harkness. Now, answer me this. Why should I stop my Irish friend here from pulling that trigger?”
“You’ll never get away with their money, if you take me out of the equation, sunshine.”
“Do I really need their money? Do I really want it?”
“Oh, feck this shite, Danny. Just let me kill this cunt, and we can all get on wit’ our lives.”
Danny could see light dancing in Ciaran’s eyes. Realising that his bloodlust was up, Danny saw that he wanted to pull that trigger more than anything else in the world.
But Harkness still had one last trick up his sleeve. He raised his right arm slowly in the air. “If I may be so bold… take a butcher’s at this, Danny boy.” He had a mobile phone in his hand. His thumb moved over a sensor, unlocking the device. He then slowly reached out and handed the phone to Danny, Ciaran being careful to maintain the pressure of the gun on the back of his head as he did so.
Danny knew what he was about to see before he even looked at the screen. It was photo of Deputy Sheriff Amparo Sosa. He felt sick.
“You see Danny, Ines and I talked about your little girlfriend the other day, and even though you thought you’d cut a deal with her… let’s just say we think you do your best work when you have something at stake in this game of ours. Good luck tomorrow, Danny. And now, would you mind asking this pigfuck Irishman to take his gun and shove it up his arse.”
Ciaran hesitated. He didn’t know what Danny had seen on the screen, but he knew it could not be good. Before he reluctantly lowered the gun, he leant in and whispered harshly in Harkness’s ear.
“Listen here. ‘Go mbrise an diabhal do chnámha.’ Do you what that means in Pig Irish, ye cunt? It means ‘may the devil crush yer bones.’ I’m gonna see to it, at some point, that he gets the feckin’ chance.”
As he descended the steps away, Harkness shouted over his shoulder, “Say your prayers and get some sleep, boys. The love of God is going to bring us all a lot of money tomorrow. Make sure you enjoy yourselves.”
And then, he sang in that clear, luscious voice that he had exhibited the night he and Danny had gone to work with those baseball bats. “Amazing Grace… How sweet the sound… That saved a wretch like me….”
33
Driving Ms Tina
The 1975 Pontiac Grande Ville was, by modern standards, more of a cruise liner than an average car. It was huge. It was light blue, and Tina had been driving it since day one, a present to her from one of her gentleman callers.
It was funny, when she thought about it. She had never been in love, but plenty of men had proclaimed the undying type for her and lavished her with gifts. But, if she was honest, she held more affection for this car than any of the men who had attempted to woo her. The only problem was, that as she grew older, with the car not having assisted steering, it was much more difficult for her to manage.
Still, she loved climbing into it. She adored the feel of the big leather bench seat. She liked to run her hand over the heavily creased and dimpled leather where it folded every time she slid in to drive it. How many times had she lain down on that seat, entertaining some young beau for the price of good meal and a ticket to the drive-in? How many times had she driven it away from a secret assignation at some motel just off the freeway? How many times had she taken it to the beach, parked up and listened to the sound of the waves as she smoked a long menthol cigarette, feeling like a French film star in some impenetrable arthouse flick that was full of long looks, tense silences and frantic outburst of angry passion?
Yes, Tina loved her Pontiac. Many of the stories of her life were ingrained in its upholstery and so many of her miles travelled had passed under its wheels. But today? Today, it would be the end of their beautiful love affair. Because today, she was going to wilfully do something to write off the car. She needed a new one. Her days of battling with the heavy steering were numbered. And living in Florida it might be nice to have some air-conditioning. And writing off the car would mean she could afford whatever damn car she liked.
Success would be all in the timing. So, she was concentrating on the road in front of her. Making sure not to miss the other vehicle she was waiting on. Morty wasn’t helping, though. The Chihuahua was safe inside her handbag, but as all he could see was the traffic passing by, he couldn’t help voicing his disdain for all humans with the exception of his mistress. He barked and barked, causing Tina to admonish him on at least three occasions.
“I do declare, Morty, if I didn’t love you, I’d have just about wrung your neck by lunchtime today.”
Morty whimpered, showing her that he knew he was making mischief.
The traffic seemed to be whizzing by faster than usual as she sat parked illegally on the corner of a street that intersected the main road that led from to the highway. From there, it was only another five miles or so to the Miami Urban Convention Centre. But she didn’t want to go there today. Or let another, specific, vehicle arrive there, either.
Tina could see for at least three blocks and watched all the cars, buses, trucks and motorbikes, waiting for her target to come into view.
She was dressed in her best old lady outfit. Not that she liked wearing it very often, but Danny had been very specific in his instructions. She usually reserved it for winter and funerals, the latter were becoming uncomfortably more frequent in her life. So, here she was, in an A-line skirt and a blouse with a horrid floral print pattern, high-collared and long-sleeved. The overall image was bumbling old woman. It would help with the chaos and the aftermath of what Danny was asking her to do.
She had also decided to bring Morty along because his barking and frantic reactions would only serve to deepen the confusion once she had carried out Danny’s instructions. She knew she could keep him safe in her handbag, so that was no problem. She glanced at her watch. It was almost just after five in the afternoon, her target would be there sometime between then and twenty minutes past.
Tina had been thinking it all through for days. She knew she had to ensure that the collision was big enough to halt her target. They’d offered her a hire car for the mission, but she’d refused. She knew that her beloved Pontiac had become too much for her. What finer way than to go out with a bang? And be helping desperate men achieve desperate measures? The derring-do of it appealed to her.
And then, she spotted it. Coming over the brow of the hill, three blocks away. They were in the outer lane, so she would have to time her pull out carefully. Morty started to bark again. She hushed him to no avail. She started the ignition, listening to the enjoyably throaty rumble, a noise she would miss. Her target was closer… two blocks now, the traffic slower, busier, helping her and hindering her all at once. She flicked on her indicator, edging the car towards the junction.
And then, a piece of good fortune. A taxi cab decided to switch lanes, going from the inside one nearest to her and out into the middle. She eased the Pontiac into the traffic. She locked her eyes onto the rear-view mirror, tracking her target and holding her breath as it pulled nearer to her. She indicated again, pulling into the same lane as her target, putting it directly behind her. Morty’s barks reached a new pitch. She glanced ahead, spotting the stoplight, exactly where Danny had told her it would be. Now, this was where her timing had to be immaculate. She could see it was red. She slowed a little, the target gaining on her. She counted to ten, then sped up, her prey speeding up with her. They both anticipated that they would make it through the light, it would change to green just before they reached it.
Tina reached across and grabbed her handbag, Morty settling deeper into it at her as she did, an extr
a bark to show his curiosity. And then, Tina bit down on the gum shield that Danny had given her. The stoplight turned green in front of her. The target vehicle immediately behind her sped up a touch more. As she reached the junction, Tina slammed her brakes on for all she was worth. The big boat of a car left rubber on the road, as it squealed to a heavy stop. Anticipation caused her to tense her shoulders as the armoured cash-collection vehicle behind her did what physics demanded. The collision pushed the Pontiac into the middle of the junction. A Toyota Corolla that had the misfortune to be behind the armoured van smashed into it, pushing it and Tina’s car even further forward. Morty howled at the noise and ferocious jolt. Tina immediately spat the gumshield out into a handkerchief and slipped it into the glovebox. When a witness from one of the cars alongside hers came and tapped on her window, asking her if she was all right, she nodded slowly. She put tears in her eyes as she did so, reaching into her handbag and retrieving an unhurt Morty and clutching him to her chest. She looked the epitome of a crazy old lady driver.
That van would not be picking up any cash from the Miami Convention Centre that evening… and Tina felt very proud of herself, if a little sore. She’d perfected her best crusty old woman act for that moment, knowing she would have to lay it on thick when the cops arrived.
The last thing she did was to click on the small walkie-talkie Danny had given her. She was to press a button on it and say one word three times. Then, later that day, drop it into a trashcan somewhere far from where she lived. She did as she was told, saying loud and proud, “Crash, crash, crash,” as she thought of the money and a long slow slip of her favourite electric blue cocktail.
Danny was in the gent’s toilet at the Convention Centre when he heard the walkie-talkie in his hand crackle into life.