by Mike McCrary
I lower my bat.
Pull my gun.
Guns get pulled on me. A metric shit-ton of them.
I shove mine into the side of Gordo’s head.
“I’m stuck between two people who have lied to me my whole life. Literally.” Water in my eyes is flooding fast. Swelling. I press the gun harder to Gordo’s temple as I let the tears stream down my face. “Now, someone needs to produce my brother or some really good information as to where I find him, or I’m going to put a bullet in his brain.” I let my eyes bore into Jonathan as the tears roll. “The brain that contains where your money is and how to get it. Ya gettin’ me, sweetheart?”
Jonathan closes his eyes, clucks his tongue, then opens his eyes.
“Teddy—” Gordo starts.
“Shut your ass,” I bark back.
I steal a quick glance at Bear Boy.
He hasn’t moved. He gives me nothing. I don’t have time to wait for him. I’ve got shit to do.
“Nobody has to die here, Teddy,” Jonathan finally says. “Especially family.”
Oh my God, that was the wrong thing to say.
“We can work this—”
“Stop!” I scream.
The tears have stopped. I’m done with that.
“You need to cease with that bullshit.” I feel spit fly as I amp up to another level. “We’re not family. You shot a load in my mother years ago. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing more. Hope she enjoyed it, but I seriously doubt it. If you think that simple bodily function allows you access to me, my life, my heart, you are sorely mistaken.” I take a breath, reset, reload. “Another thing, and I really want this to be clear. If this army of assholes weren’t here, I’d gut you and bury your bitch-ass out in that field right alongside some of your other sons.”
Jonathan’s face drops as he looks out into the field.
“That’s right, big fun,” I say with a grin. “A few of your lesser loads are rotting in the dirt as we speak. What did you say to me the other morning?” I snap my fingers as if remembering. “That’s right. Think you said there was a lot to unpack. Well let’s unpack our shit, asshole.”
Bear Boy smirks with a tiny chuckle.
My head whips to him.
So does Jonathan’s.
It’s on.
Chapter 42
Bear Boy wraps his massive ham-arm around Jonathan’s throat.
He plants a gun to his head.
I could kiss the big lug.
“Sorry, bro,” I tell Gordo as I slip my gun from his temple then start randomly pointing it at the army of goons surrounding us, staring in shock.
“Really thought you might kill me,” says Gordo, stumbling backward.
“Still early.”
He shakes his head as he raises his gun, holding off the goons. Sandy has her .38 up and ready, pushing back the goon standing closest to her. There’s a fire in her eyes. She’s feeling it now. Nothing to worry about there. Of course, my main concern at this point is that she gets cocky and starts shooting dudes and dropping bodies.
“Easy,” I whisper to her.
She nods.
Jonathan’s eyes burn. A powerful man, helpless in the grip of Bear Boy.
I love it. This is finally fun.
“You’re dead,” Jonathan says, cold as he can.
I know he’s talking to all of us, but it feels more like he’s talking to me in particular. I slam the end of my bat into his gut. I feel the air leave his lungs.
“I thought we were gelling as a family, Jon,” I whisper into his ear.
He coughs and spits.
I feel better.
Turning back around, I ready myself to address the army of goons. They stand with all their guns on us. They have us bunched in, formed in a tight circle all around us, with enough firepower to kill us a hundred times over. I have no idea how many of them there are or how many are in the house, but to call us outnumbered is the understatement of the decade. Still, might be my imagination, perhaps wishful thinking, but they seem to lack the heart for it. I need to push the right buttons here.
“Listen up, dicks,” I call out. “Going to say this once. Your boss? He’s a dead man. Period. Not a damn thing you can do about it, and you have no reason to stick around. Nothing to protect. There is no upside for you here.”
I pause, let that info settle in for a second.
“Now, we can shoot it out, of course. Some of us will die, some of you will die, cops will come in, some of you will go to prison.”
“Kill—” Jonathan starts, right before my bat lands into his gut, cutting off whatever-the-hell else he was about to say.
“Think about it,” I say, returning to the crowd. “That’s a hell of a gamble to take with your lives. Big roll of the dice just to try and save a dude who wouldn’t cross the street to piss on you if you were on fire.”
I let that one twirl around their brains. I raise my eyebrows, throw in a shrug of my shoulders. This has to work. They have to leave thinking it’s a good idea.
No way we can fight this out.
No one wins in a massacre.
“If I were you, and thank God I’m not, I’d load into these sweet-ass SUVs and roll the hell out of here.” I can see some of their minds are starting to churn. “Bet some of you know where some cash is stashed. You boys have worked hard for him for years, right? You have to know where Jonathan keeps his shit, right? Bet you know how to make the most of knowing this guy is dead, don’t you?” I chuckle. “Think about it. Think hard. You’ll get a head start on the rest of the criminal, dickhead world, knowing that he’s dead. The great Jonathan is dead and you get the jump on everybody at picking the bones. That has to be worth something. Once-in-a-lifetime-style stuff, right?”
The goons start to look at one another.
It’s working.
I can feel it.
The hamsters in their heads are turning the wheels all the way around. They know Gordo, and they know Jonathan. They know who I am too. They know the family history here, and they have a self-preservation mode just like everybody else. I’m placing a large wager on them being old-fashioned, self-serving human beings like most folks are.
“Don’t be mindless bad guys now. Jonathan is right about one thing—nobody has to die here. Except him, of course.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Go live a good life, gents. Nothing would piss him off more.”
Jonathan’s eyes burn.
A group of goons in the back huddle together, then climb into a Yukon.
I breathe out, slow and steady. Thank God.
As the engine fires up, I watch Jonathan’s face sink. His shoulders slump. Another pack peels off from the army, sliding into another Yukon. Jonathan’s numbers are dwindling by the second. I knew all I needed to do was get one of them to bolt. Get a few to pack up and get gone.
That’s how riots start.
Someone has to be the first to throw a brick through a window. After that, it becomes easier for the second and third, then the fourth, fifth and so on. Another Yukon pulls away, backing up out of the driveway, before turning around and heading off my property and onto the farm road.
Rolling away from us.
Away from my house.
My life.
Bear Boy still holds onto Jonathan tight, gun pressed to his head, but I can see he doesn’t really have to. The defeat is in Jonathan’s eyes, has him limp and lifeless.
He’s a shell of what he was mere minutes ago. He knows he’s lost, and he can’t comprehend how quickly this all came undone. His empire laid to waste in a matter of days. Family destroyed by his own family. His arrogance and his sickness led him to my door, and I’m going to put him and me out of our misery.
Has to be crushing for the guy.
Poor asshole.
“Last time, Jonathan,” I say. “Where’s my brother?”
He looks at me, blank as can be. “I don’t know, Teddy.”
“Bullshit,” I say, looking between him and Gordo. “One of you i
s lying their ass off.” I raise my bat then let it bounce on my shoulder, subtle as hell. “Which one is it?”
Another Yukon takes off.
Gordo and Jonathan both simply look at me, shaking their heads. I watch closely to make sure there isn’t some form of eye contact between them. Some form of communication about my brother. Some little secret code being transmitted.
I take a beat to think.
I almost forgot that the two of them aren’t exactly close at the moment. There’s no reason they would conspire to take Skinny Drake. They aren’t even trying to bargain with information about my brother. Just like before with Gordo, that would be the smart play for either of them. If they had something to bargain with, now would be the time.
A new fear spikes in me.
They really don’t know where he is.
If they don’t, that means someone else is out there with my brother and I have no idea who it is, what they want, or if he’s even alive. I feel myself peeling away again. My sight blurs as I focus on a small rock on the ground. My mind starts spinning, flipping, turning over and over as my broken brain rips through thoughts of my brother.
“Now what?” Jonathan asks.
“What?” I say, snapping out of my trance.
“What do we do now?” Jonathan waves his arms around. “All my people are gone.”
I turn, looking. He’s right. The goons, the death army that was insurmountable mere seconds ago, is gone. It’s just me, Sandy, Gordo, Jonathan, Bear Boy, some guns and my bat.
Holy shit. It worked.
“How about in there?” I nudge my chin toward the house. “Who’s in there waiting to start blasting?”
“There’s no one in there.”
“You sure about that, Jonathan?”
“I’m sure.” He snaps his fingers as if he just recalled something important. Manages to find that stupid grin again. “Wait, there is a box in there.”
I freeze. I forgot all about it.
I know the possibilities of that box.
I don’t want to let him know how bad I want what’s in that damn box. Don’t want him to know what happened to me when I saw the picture he texted me. What happened off simply seeing a texted picture of a picture. Can’t imagine what feeling and touching the contents of that box will do to me. To my fragile, brittle, broken brain. He’s not a dumb man, so I’m sure he sees it all over my face.
“You’re unbelievable,” Gordo says to Jonathan.
“Come again?”
“Haven’t you done enough to her?”
“Oh, you’re a moralist now?” Jonathan fires back.
“You want to know part of the reason I did what I did?” Gordo points to me. “Her. What you did to her. She was a small part, sure, but she was part of my decision to run you into the ground, Dad.”
Jonathan looks like his insides are on fire. The color of his face has gone from flesh to inferno in no time flat. Bear Boy has to adjust his grip around Jonathan’s neck to hold him back. Gordo looks shaken. He meant what he said, that I can tell, but he does look like a kid who stood up to his dad for the first time.
Frightened, but proud.
“You’re nothing,” Jonathan says with a coldness only he could muster. “Your mother? She coddled you, made you pathetic. I told her you’d be the biggest disappointment of them all, and I was so, so right.”
Gordo deflates. He’s struggling to be calm, and his cool is fading fast. He raises his gun, aiming it at Jonathan’s head, trigger finger getting tighter.
“Easy there,” Bear Boy says, not knowing what to do, considering he already has a gun to Jonathan’s head.
Gordo takes a few steps and places the gun between Jonathan’s eyes. Bear Boy really has no idea what to do now. He lowers his gun from Jonathan’s head, looking to me for answers.
I have none to offer as I watch.
“Say that again, Dad,” says Gordo, his eyes digging into Jonathan. “I’d like you to repeat that.”
“You heard me.” Jonathan simply smiles. “Boy.”
I can see it in Gordo’s eyes.
He really might do it.
Hell, he tried to kill his father before, but pulling the trigger is a lot different than slowly poisoning someone from afar. A lot more personal. I can’t let him shoot Jonathan. It’s not the right way to do this. I don’t know why I think this all of a sudden, but I can’t let him blow his dad’s brains out. Doesn’t feel right. Not to mention, for purely selfish reasons, I really have my heart set on killing Jonathan with my bat. Not sure I’ll actually do it, but I’d like to leave the option open, at least. Also, I need Jonathan alive so I can make damn sure he doesn’t know anything about Skinny Drake.
“Stop,” I say, pulling Gordo back. “Sandy, would you please go inside and take a look around?”
I lower Gordo’s gun, turning him away from Jonathan. I can feel him shaking as I give him a shove away. I want to give him some space to get ahold of himself.
Sandy nods, moving toward the door.
“Be careful. There might be some of his people in there,” I tell her. “Because, ya know, he’s a lying prick.”
I know I should go with her, but I can’t leave Gordo and Jonathan out here unattended. Bear Boy is here, but I can’t count on trusting him. If he flipped for me, he can flip back just as easily. Way too many moving parts out here on the lawn. Variables on top of variables.
A light rain begins to fall.
“There should be a box on the kitchen table. Bring that out for her. She needs to be reminded of the dead,” Jonathan says, like a complete asshole.
I grip my bat.
The velocity of the rain grows, coming down harder now.
Jonathan’s trying to get to me with his bullshit. I know it.
Sandy looks to me. I breathe in deep and nod, letting her know to please get the box, too. Sandy steps onto the porch, opens the door, raises her gun and moves inside.
“Please be careful,” I say to myself as she disappears into the house. I spin back around, moving to Gordo. “You better hold up your end with the money, you piece of shit. Don’t you dare forget what we agreed on.”
“Of course,” Gordo says, as if I just offended him.
“Dickhead,” I say, “I’ll kill you right now.”
“Really?” he says, staring out into the rolling, dark clouds. “You’ve got the same problem he has—you need me to get the money. You kill me, you’re an unemployed bartender with a busted brain. Not incredibly marketable out there in the workforce. Think you said that yourself before.”
“Oh, I’m unbelievable with the box?” Jonathan asks.
“Things shifted,” Gordo barks back to his father. “Now she’s threatening me.”
I wipe the driving rain from my eyes. It’s starting to come down in buckets now.
“I’ll double what he offered you,” Jonathan calls out to me, struggling to be heard over the brewing storm.
“You don’t have it,” I say.
“You don’t think I have money all over the world? You think perhaps, maybe, there’s money my children don’t know about? You think I’d ever let my family know everything about my business?”
Gordo looks uneasy. So does Bear Boy.
“Running out of chances, Teddy,” Jonathan sneers. “Let’s make a deal before this gets out of control and there are no deals to be made.”
“What are you talking about?” I say.
“I’m talking about how you’re not thinking everything through.”
“What?”
Sandy appears in the doorway holding a box. I squint hard. She’s holding a different box than the one I saw with Jonathan earlier. I’d never forget what that box looked like.
“Last chance, kiddo,” Jonathan says, pulling something from his pocket.
I think of the house in Lake Tahoe.
The explosion.
I think of Rosie, of Rondo.
I think of Gordo saying what he learned from his father.
&
nbsp; “Sandy! Drop the box and run!” I scream.
Her head cocks, birdlike.
“I’ll give you two million cash and a condo in Santa Monica,” Jonathan tells Bear Boy as fast as he can. “Just take that gun away from my head.” Jonathan raises a small chunk of plastic from his pocket.
Gordo’s eyes pop upon seeing what’s in his hand. Recognition firing off from behind his eyes. “Run!” he screams at Sandy.
“Now, Sandy!” I yell louder, sprinting toward the porch with everything I have. I shove my gun into the back of jeans. My legs pumps as hard as I can, with my feet slipping in the mud and rain.
As I run by, I hear Bear Boy say a single word.
“Done.”
He lets go of Jonathan’s neck and lowers his gun.
Sandy drops the box, running toward me.
I’m only a few feet from her. I reach out through the pouring rain to grab her hands. My soaking hands grab, slip, then lock with Sandy’s. I yank with all I have.
Everything goes white.
Loud.
A blinding wave of sound and force rips across the lawn.
I’m flying. Airborne. Lifted off the ground by a force of strength I’ve never experienced before. Helplessly flying, with fire and smoke expanding at a mind-bending rate, taking up all the air around me. I slam to the mud, sliding on my back with a crunch and a pop. Sandy lands a few feet from me in a pile.
My ears ring. My sight blurs. White globs form fast.
The pain in my back and shoulders is sharp. Biting my lip, I flip over to Sandy. Her eyes are open, shock plastered across her face. She’s alive. Terrified, but alive.
I roll, then bounce up to my feet, struggling for footing in the mud and pounding storm. My whole body feels like a wet blanket. I’m moving, but speed and control are a distant memory. The smoke is thick. The rain is coming down in sheets, but I can make out three shapes up ahead. The sizes tell me who’s who.
Shadows of Gordo, Jonathan, and Bear Boy.
A gun pops. A flash of a blast a few feet from me. Another pop.
The biggest of the bodies drops. Bear Boy is down.
I raise my gun, pulling the trigger twice into the smoke and rain, giving two quick shots at the figure closest to Bear Boy. Best guess that’s Jonathan. Doesn’t matter. They can both go down for all I care. The figure spins. I see a flash before I even hear the sound.