Skin Games

by Adam Pepper

  “Just to go home.”

  “Very well. I’ll be in to check on you a little later.”

  The nurse walked out. I waited about thirty seconds, then I got up.

  “Where you going?” Mom asked.

  “Just to stretch my legs. I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay, dear.”

  The nurse was in the station near the elevators, and I walked over to her.

  “Excuse me, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure, baby. Does she need anything?”

  “No. I just wanted to know...” my voice trailed off. I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “How is she? Have the doctors said anything?”

  She nodded with a look of understanding and sympathy. Like she’d seen this all before. It sort of put me at ease even though I felt some really bad news coming.

  “You’re her son, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. She hasn’t told you.”

  “She’s too proud. But I know it isn’t good.”

  “No. I’m afraid it isn’t good.”

  “Please tell me what’s wrong with her.”

  “It’s her pancreas.”

  “Pancreas?” I’d heard the term, but to be perfectly honest, before that day, I had no idea what a pancreas even was.

  “Yes. It’s cancerous, and it’s metastatic.”

  I nodded as if I understood what that meant. Then I bit the bullet and just asked. “I didn’t finish high school. I don’t really know what that means.”

  “Sit.” She ushered me behind the desk and into the nurse’s station. There was a chair with wheels on it, and I sat down. She kneeled in front of me, put her hand gently on my knee and said, “There’s no cure. It’s just too late. Your mother hasn’t seen a doctor in years. She let the cancer progress too much. The doctors are going to transfer her to a hospice facility as soon as they can work up the transfer order.”

  “Hospice facility?”

  “It’s a place where they care for sick people like your mother.”

  I knew what a hospice was from when one of my aunts got sick. My old man was still around back then. He said they were sending Aunt Peggy over to Calvary Hospital, where they put old cows out to pasture. I finally understood what that meant.

  “I understand.”

  “I’m very sorry. I wish there was more we could do to help her.”

  “I understand. Thank you.” I tried to stand up, but felt woozy and dropped back into the chair. “Can I have a drink of water?”

  “Of course you can.” She was a big woman, but she quickly shuffled over to a room just to the side of the nurse’s station where they kept the cups and pitchers and such. She was back in no time with a cool drink of water.

  I gulped it down and stood up.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine now. Thank you.”

  “You let me know if you need anything. We have counselors here who can help you deal with things. It’s okay to ask for help.”

  “Thank you. But I’ll be fine.”

  “We have a chaplin, too. He can be a big help at times like this.”

  “I’m okay. I just needed a minute.”

  “Okay. You just give me a holler if you change your mind.”

  I nodded. Then I walked back to my mother’s room.

  There was a sad look around her yellowing eyes when I walked back in. Did she overhear? Or was it that motherly sixth sense again? I sat down in the chair.

  Behind me I heard a nurse helping the patient in the next bed. We ignored the disturbance. My mother reached out her hand again, and I took it into mine. With my free hand, I pulled the blanket up to her neck.

  “Are you cold?”

  “I’m just fine now.”

  “Good.”

  “Stay with me a bit more.”

  “I’ll stay as long as you want.”

  She shifted her body, and although she stayed quiet, I could see in her face that she wanted to cry out from the pain. Just the act of moving in the bed was more than she could bear. I leaned over and pushed the pillow under her head, and she settled in, now lying down with her head tilted towards me.

  She smiled. I smiled back. Neither of us was remotely happy, and yet we were both smiling. She was trying to be strong for me, and I was trying to be strong for her. I wanted to ask her why she didn’t tell me sooner how much pain she was in. I wanted to know why she didn’t see a doctor sooner. Why did she suffer in silence for so long?

  But I didn’t ask. The answer wasn’t important. And I knew it anyway. It was just the way she was. She’d gone through life a certain way, and it was the only way she knew. She didn’t complain. She sucked it up. That was her way and it wouldn’t change in life, nor in death. I respected the hell out of her for it even though there was a small part of me that wondered why she was so stubborn.

  It must have taken a lot of energy to appear strong when she was really hurting like hell inside. After lying still for several minutes, she finally spoke, and when she did, it sounded strained. Her throat was scratchy as she pushed out words and her lips quivered as she struggled to move them.

  “How is that girlfriend of yours?”

  “She’s excellent. Really excellent.”

  “I’ve never seen you this way about a girl before.”

  “I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

  She held my hand with hers, and with her other hand, she reached around and rubbed my belly.

  “That’s wonderful.” She slid sideways trying to sit up.

  “Mom, you just lie down and relax.”

  “No. I want to talk with you, and I need to look at you properly when I do.” She twisted firmly, and I could see it was just torture for her. So, I stood up and put my hand behind her back and arched it so she could wiggle her way into an upright position. “Thank you.”

  “Do you need anything?” I reached for a pitcher on the shelf that connected to the bed and started to fill a paper cup with water.

  “I’m fine.”

  I turned the swivel of the shelf towards her anyway, so she could take the water when she was ready. By the sound of her voice, she really needed the drink.

  “Sean, you need to sit back down and listen to me.” She glared at me, and I sat even as I watched her age before my eyes. Her pale face was turning a shade of light green. The bags under her eyes were starting to look like rotting grapes. “Your father was once like you.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t compare me to him.”

  “But you’re his son.”

  “I’m not him.”

  “No, you aren’t. Of course you’re not him, but you are his son. I see him in you. Every day I see him. The way you talk. The way you walk. Your mannerisms. You remind me of him. It isn’t a bad thing.”

  “If I’m like him, then it’s a bad thing.”

  “Listen to me carefully, Sean. You can’t be like him.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You won’t run out on your family. You won’t abandon those who love you.”

  “I would never do that.”

  She patted my arm. “I know you wouldn’t.” I wanted the talk to be over, but she wasn’t finished. She finally took a sip of the water, and her voice had a little more strength in it as she went on. “That girl.”

  “Nicole.”

  “Yes. Nicole. Do you love her?”

  I got shy and couldn’t immediately respond. My face must have turned red.

  “You do. I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her. She is important to you.”

  “Yes, Mom. She is.”

  “Then you do the right thing by her. Don’t you dare be like your father. If you give your word to that pretty little girl, you keep it. You understand me?”

  “Yes. I understand you.”

  “There is nothing more important than your word, Sean.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Good. I know you’ll do the right thin
g. I know you won’t let me down the way your father did.”

  “I won’t, Mom. I won’t ever let you down.”

  “I think I need to rest now.”

  “Okay, Mom. You rest.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  My jaw felt wired shut from tension. I missed lunch with Nicole. I called her at the house, and she answered on the third ring.

  “Hello.” After the day I’d just had, simply the sound of her voice made me smile.

  “Hi. It’s me.”

  “Sean. Hi. How are you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “How’s your mother?”

  “Not so good.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do? Can I help?”

  “No. Just hearing your voice is all the help I need.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m sorry I missed lunch today.”

  “Don’t be silly. You had more important things going on.”

  “Were you back at Costa’s today?”

  “Of course. You know I’m there every day.”

  “I thought you eat lunch at the Cucina now.”

  “Oh, stop it. I was just there to look out for you.”

  “To make sure your father didn’t freak out.”

  “Something like that.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that you are my boyfriend, and if he loves me, he’ll be nice to you.”

  “I see.”

  “I know he’s a hard ass, but he’s my daddy. He’ll back off you now. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I sort of mumbled those words, not sure if I wanted to say them or not.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be fine.”

  My phone beeped with call waiting, which was very weird considering it was after eleven at night.

  “Hang on, Nicole. I have another call.”

  “‘Kay.”

  I flipped to the other call and said, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Shamrock.”

  It was Vinny. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve got something for you. From the big guy.”

  “My mother’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

  “Sorry, kid. How is she?”

  “Not good.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, kid. Listen. Like I said, the boss has a job he needs you to do, tonight.”

  I looked out the window; there was nothing to see but darkness. The wind was blowing the branches from the maple tree that stood on the side of my house, making them scrape the window. “Tonight? It’s fuckin’ freezing out, and I gotta go back to the hospital in the morning. I kinda thought I was in for the evening.”

  “This is big. You need money to care for the old lady, right? You don’t want to be turning down work. Am I right?”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a guy who’s late. You know?”

  “He owes Mario money.”

  “Hey,” Vinny barked. “Take it easy on the phone, man. You never know who’s listening.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, so he’s a stubborn old fuck. He don’t listen to no one. He knows the deal, but he don’t want to play ball. The boss wants you to talk to him.”

  “Me? Isn’t this Tommy Guns’ specialty?”

  “He’s giving the job to you, Shamrock. You should be flattered.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “I knew you would. You know the Rump Shaker?”

  “The strip club?”

  “No, the five-star hotel.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know the place.”

  “Good. The owner. His name is Wally McGee. Mean old drunk with red cheeks and gray, puffy hair. You’ll know him when you see him. You can’t miss him.”

  “You need it now?”

  “It’s a fuckin’ tittie bar. They’re open all night. Just get the job done. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll take care of it.” I clicked back to Nicole. “Hey, baby. I gotta go.”

  “What’s up? Your mom okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s something else.”

  “Something else?”

  “Just an errand I gotta go run for Vinny. No big deal.”

  “Now? Come on, Sean. What errand?” Her voice was drawn out. Detective Nicole back on the case of discovering what information I was holding out on her.

  “Just business. Stop worrying.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m your girlfriend. I’m supposed to worry. Especially when Vinny calls at eleven o’clock at night with mysterious errands.”

  “It’s no big deal. I gotta go.”

  “Fine.”

  “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “I love you, Nicole. See you tomorrow.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I thought I was in for in the night, so I had to get out of the sweat pants I was wearing and into some clothing. I dressed and found my warmest jacket, a black wool hat and my leather gloves. Then I went into my dresser drawer and pulled out my newest toy: a black .380 Beretta pistol with a brown handle. Compact gun, so it was easy to tuck away but still packed plenty of firepower. Magazine clip held ten rounds. Jose got it for me, and along with the shells I got away for three hundred bills. Fair price for a decent firearm. It was used but in good condition. I hadn’t fired it yet, but Jose wouldn’t sell me a bum piece. I snapped out the magazine, loaded ten bullets, and clicked it shut. Then I turned on the safety and put the piece in my waistline.

  The air cut right into my bones once I stepped out onto the porch. I thought about going alone, but after the other night, I really wanted backup. I walked up to Griff’s door and knocked. It was late, but he was surely up.

  Griff came to the door in just his boxer shorts and a t-shirt.

  “Sean?”

  “Get dressed. I’ve got work for us.”

  “Now?” Griff hugged himself and his shoulders twitched as the cold air rushed into his front hall.

  “Get dressed. Let’s go.”

  “Come on, man. It’s late. And we’ll freeze our balls off.” Griff knew I wouldn’t be knocking at his door this late, unannounced, without good reason. But I guess he just had to hear me confirm it.

  “The job didn’t come from Vinny.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s for the big guy. Now get dressed.”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  “You’ve got five.”

  Griff nodded and then closed the door.

  There was no sense waiting out in the cold, so I went back inside and sat down on the couch. I flipped the news up on the television but didn’t really pay attention. I was preoccupied with Wally McGee. What did he have in store for me tonight? This was no simple collection. That I could handle. This was a specialty job. Tommy Guns handled this kind of thing. Was I auditioning for heavy work? Or was this something else entirely?

  The door was unlocked, and Griff walked in wearing a beat-up, heavy, blue down jacket and a blue hat with a white pom-pom.

  “You ready, bro?” he asked.

  “What the hell are you wearing?”

  “What? What’s the problem?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Take off that hat.”

  “It’s freezing out, man.”

  “You look ridiculous.” I handed him my hat. “Wear mine.”

  “Won’t you be cold?”

  “I have another one around here somewhere.” As I started looking through my coat closet, I heard Griff mumbling something. I found another dark-colored wool hat, and I turned back towards him. “You say something?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “Speak up, man. What is it?”

  “Are you like, dating Nicole Torretta?”

  “Yeah. You could say that.”

  “Don’t you think that’s kind of risky?”

  “Life’s a risk, Griff. You could walk across the street and get hit by a car
.”

  “I guess, but it’s a lot more likely to get hit by a car when you’re dating Nicole Torretta.”

  “I know. Thanks. I’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”

  “Yeah, but Scrubby says you’re pushing your luck.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “The other day.”

  “What are you doing with him, anyway?”

  “I’ve been working with him. Helping him out on jobs and stuff.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you care? You don’t want to work with him anymore, so he needed a partner, and I need money.”

  “I care because you’re my friend. That guy is bad news.”

  “Everybody’s gotta make a living somehow.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a risky way to make a living.”

  “You are gonna lecture me on risk? You’re dating the boss’s daughter.”

  “Okay. You do what you want. But watch your ass. Scrubby Mike is dangerous. The guy is careless. One day he’s gonna fuck up bad. I just don’t want him to take you down with him. Why do you think I stopped working with him?”

  “Okay. Thanks for the concern.”

  “You, too.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  I checked my beltline. The pistol was safely tucked behind my back. I put on the hat and my black gloves, and we started outside.

  Griff looked nervous as we got up to the car. “We’re going to take Nicole’s BMW to the job?”

  “You got a better ride?”

  “No.”

  “You wanna walk?”

  “No.”

  “Then get in.”

  Griff got in. I fired up the engine and cranked the heat. I gassed the pedal and gave the car a minute to warm up. Then we headed to the Bruckner Expressway.

  I took the Bruckner all the way to the end of the Bronx and got off. The neighborhood was for the most part deserted. Underneath the expressway overpass was some garbage and debris, and in the dark I could see some cardboard boxes and a shopping cart.

  “Man, it’s a shitty night to be homeless,” I said.

  Griff looked over. “Is someone living in there?”

  “I hope not.”

  “They’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  The road came out from under the expressway and led into a long straightaway. A tractor trailer was parked to the side, its cab dark.