I stare at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. I can’t help but think about Laura and everything that happened. After I had found out she was his daughter, I felt the rage flowing through my veins.
Was I wrong to send her away?
It was ruthless, yes, but I did it for the right reasons.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts, and I sit up straight to see who it is. Mother peeks around the corner and asks, “Can I come in?”
I nod, and she pushes the door open further.
“I just wanted to … talk.” She seems hesitant as she approaches me, and I wonder what’s bothering her.
“Is it the mess in the hall? I’ll clean it up.”
“No, it’s not that.” She frowns.
“The broken benches? I’ll ask Carl to buy new ones.”
“No, it’s not about the mess those two boys made,” she says, and she sits down on the edge of my bed.
I sigh. “This isn’t about Laura, right?”
“Are you sure you want her gone?”
“No, but it’s for the best.” With furrowed brows, I look away, not feeling up to this conversation. “Please don’t try to change my mind.”
“If I showed you something, would you be willing to fight?”
“Why? Does it matter?” I bark.
“Yes. Because, despite those filthy things you did on the altar, I still care about you. I care about your well-being. Don’t you know that? I want you to be happy.”
I chew on my lip. “Of course, I do …”
“Then you know I only want what’s best for you. And that girl clearly makes you happy. You’ve been drinking much less since you met her, and you’ve finally started smiling again.” She grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “Frank, this is important.”
I don’t know what to say, but then she opens her mouth again. “I wasn’t sure if I should show this to you, but I decided your heart was more important than the hope you might be at peace again.”
She rummages in her pocket and pulls out something that looks like a card. “One of the guys who came in and ruined the church dropped this on the floor.”
She holds it up. It’s a photograph.
Showing the image of my little boy way back when.
And my world feels like it’s come to a stop.
I snatch it from her hand and gawk at his picture. I haven’t seen this in ages. Actually, the last time was in my old home, which I haven’t been to since I left it all those years ago. I couldn’t stomach going back to that place with my whole family gone.
But how the fuck did those assholes get their hands on this?
Mother places her hand on top of mine and says, “If you want to go, I won’t stop you.”
I nod. “I need to find out more …”
“I know,” she says, smiling softly.
I smile back. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” I stare at the picture in my hand, and I can feel the anger flowing through my body.
This isn’t just an old picture of my son.
It’s a call to action, and it ignites a fire in me that I’m not willing to put out.
It makes me wanna go after those fuckers and finally get my revenge.
“This is what you need,” she says. “I tried to ignore it for so long, but now I finally understand,” she says, still holding my hand. “But you have to promise me you’ll come back.”
“I will,” I reply.
She leans in and presses a kiss to my cheeks. “Good luck.”
Then she turns and leaves again. When the door closes, I jump out of bed and grab some clothes I haven’t worn in ages and put them on. I straighten my cuffs, position the collar and tie exactly right, and put the cross around my neck. Along the very bottom of the wall, I pull out a loose brick and remove the knife I’d hidden there long ago, tucking it into my pocket.
From the corner of my eye, I spot the bottles of liquor right below my bed. A nuisance, and not what I want to remember. I’m a different person now. I can feel it in my veins.
So I grab the bottles and pour them out in the sink then discard the empty bottles. It feels good to finally get rid of it. A new start with a clean slate is exactly what I needed. And now that I’ve finally got a goal in life again, I’m not going to let anything get in my way.
Right before I go out, I take one last look at myself in the mirror while holding up the picture of my son.
I pick up the Bible on my nightstand and open the pages until I find the verse I’m looking for.
2 Samuel 22:38 – “I pursued my enemies and destroyed them, And I did not turn back until they were consumed.”
Dear God, give me strength in this time of need. Because now, more than ever, I’ll need you by my side.
17
Chewing on a piece of straw, I’ve been sitting on this bench a few feet away from Chuck’s Bar for a few good hours now. It’s not without reason. I’m waiting for a particularly stinky guy by the name of Gunboy or Pimpled Little Shit. I’ve beaten his ass twice now, and I think it’s time for a third.
Maybe this time, he’ll learn his lesson.
With a smug grin on my face, I keep a watchful eye, waiting for the little turd to arrive. I know it’s the middle of the day, but that never stopped the assholes from showing up uninvited. They did it before; they’ll certainly try again.
I just hope Chuck will let me have them.
I mean they’ve fucked up his place and scared away his customers, so I doubt he’ll be happy to see them. Not that it’ll stop them from messing shit up again, which is where I come in to play.
And the moment I see a familiar car roll up and a certain Pizzaface come out, I murmur, “Gotcha.”
Whistling, I get up from the bench and stroll to the bar, precisely the place he’s heading. I’m only five minutes behind, which is the perfect amount of time for an ambush that’ll make the pimples drop from his face. Maybe he’ll be a prettier boy when I’m done with him. I’ll smack those pimples right off.
Spitting out the straw, I look at the picture of my son one last time before I cross the street.
Once again, a preacher and a criminal walk into a bar. My life is just one giant joke.
Especially when I see Gunboy turn his head toward me and watch as his eyes almost pop out at the sight of me standing in the doorway.
Chuck frowns as he glares at both of us and growls, “Nuh-uh, no sir, not today.” He snatches away the glass he just put down for Pimpleface and barks, “Get out.”
“Fuck,” the shithead says.
“Yeah, fuck’s about right.” I cross my arms. “If you don’t come with me now, I’m gonna fuck your life up so badly that you won’t be able to shit for weeks.”
He jumps off his seat and scrambles away, trying to hide in a corner, but that ain’t going to save his ass. No way. He’s mine.
“Frank!” Chuck yells as I approach the boy. “Not again.”
“Sorry, Chuck, but I got a bit of a thing going on with this one.”
Right as I grab his collar, Chuck roars, “Take it outside, for crying out loud.”
I roll my eyes and sigh, still holding Gunboy who’s whimpering with his eyes closed. “C’mon, fuckwad,” I growl, dragging him with me. “See ya, Chuck,” I say, as I walk past him.
“Rather not,” he muses, making me chuckle as I haul the boy outside.
“Let me go!” he cries out as I pull him along to an alley not far ahead.
“Shut your trap,” I bark, glancing over my shoulder. “You and I have business.”
“I didn’t do fuck nothing,” he says.
“Who are you trying to fool? The Queen of England?” I spit, as I throw him into the dead-end alley. “Do I look like an old turd to you?”
He scowls. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
I raise a brow. “Oh, please, like you ever had a chance.”
“You think you could get away with firing a gun in my fucking church?”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was just a job.”
“A job? To scare the living shit out of my mother?”
“Your mother?” He frowns. “That old hag?”
I pick up a rock and throw it at his face, making him yowl in pain. It leaves a big red mark, and a bloody streak across his forehead. “Learn some fucking manners, will ya?”
“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?” he screams.
“What’s wrong with me?” I point at myself and snort. “I wasn’t the one pointing a gun at a preacher.”
“I already told you it was a job!”
I come closer and corner him. “Who gave it to you?”
He crawls back against the wall. “Some dude in the gang. I don’t know his name.”
“Lie.” I pick him up by his collar and hold out my fist. “See this pretty here?” I glance at my knuckles. “They’re eager to say hi to your face.”
“No, no, please.”
“Then talk,” I growl, and I pull the picture of my son from my pocket. “You asshats dropped this in my church. How did you get this?”
He looks at it in confusion. “I don’t know.”
I shake him. “I’m not playing games. Tell me. Now!”
“All right, all right, I got it from the same guy who gave me the job. Told me to go find you and give you a good scare.”
“You mean beat the shit out of me.”
He shrugs. “Whatever.”
“What about the picture?”
“I dunno; they just wanted me to drop it so you’d see it. They didn’t tell me why.”
“Who? Give me a name.”
“Sergio from the butcher’s shop in the next town. You know.”
Yeah, I know the place.
Grinding my teeth, I mull it over for a second. “Is he there right now?”
“I dunno; I’m only a gang member. I don’t know nothing,” he says.
His innocent act gets me so worked up that I shove him back against the wall. “Listen up, fuckface. You’re going to stop doing work for those gangs right now.”
“What?” His jaw drops. “What the fuck? You’ve gotta be joking, right?”
“I’m not messing around. I’m done with you and your pal shitting on my neighborhood. You want money? Go find some honest work like the rest of us.”
“Fuck you,” he spits. “I need this.”
“No. You need the money, but you’re just not willing to work for it,” I snarl. “What a lazy piece of shit you are.”
“Lazy? Fuck you; I’m not lazy,” he growls, pushing me away. “Who are you anyway? Some goddamn preacher doesn’t know shit about the street.”
I grasp his collar and shove him right back against the wall. “I’ve been in your position. I was a gang member before you could even piss straight. Don’t think you know everything, you little shithead. Have some respect for your elders.”
He laughs. “Elders. Right.”
“Shut up,” I growl. “You don’t get to laugh. I’m sick of your shit. You’d better not show your face in Chuck’s bar or my church ever again.”
“Or what?” He raises a brow, challenging me.
Since he’s asking for it, I might as well show him.
So I make a fist and pummel him right in the balls.
He squeals like a girl, grabbing his nuts. When I move away, he falls to his knees, rolling onto his side as he grimaces.
“Or that,” I reply, enjoying the sight of seeing him roll around in the dirt. “That’s only the warning shot. I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve. Wanna try me?”
“No …” he hisses. His throat’s still clamped shut, probably from the pain surging through his body.
“You sure?” I smile. “I’m never opposed to a bit of kinky fisticuffs when the occasion arises. Maybe you could invite your buddy too; that way we can see if you actually have any balls underneath all that bullshit.”
“Fuck you!” he curses as I turn around.
I wave and laugh as I walk away. “Yeah, good luck with that!”
Time to go to my next victim.
However, right as I pass by Chuck’s Bar, I hear a familiar voice call out for me.
“Frank?”
I stop and turn to see Laura standing in Chuck’s doorway. It looks like she came running out after she saw me.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I could ask you the same,” I reply, pointing at the building behind her. “Drinking in the middle of the day? That’s unlike you.”
She puts her hand on her side. “I wasn’t. I work here now. My shift starts in a couple of minutes.”
“Oh …” Well, that’s a new one. Never expected Chuck to hire girls. Then again … it sounds just like something that old dirtbag would love.
I shrug. “Well, good luck.” I turn and start walking again, but she follows me and grabs my arm, making me stop again.
“Wait. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“Why?”
She makes a face. “I know you’re doing something stupid.”
“Stupid? Who, me?” I raise a brow.
“Stop joking.” She playfully slaps my arm. “You’ve been acting weird since those two dudes showed up at the church.”
I swallow, being reminded of what they said in church … and that she’s Julio’s daughter.
“It’s not something that concerns you.” I try to shake her off, but she won’t let go.
“Yes, it does. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” I reply. “I’ll be fine.”
“So you admit it …”
“Admit what?”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re up to something.”
I snort. “It’s nothing good, so don’t ask.”
“Are you going to hurt people?”
I nod.
“You can’t just … kill people, Frank,” she says under her breath.
“No?” I retort. “Watch me.”
“There must be another way,” she says.
“They had a picture of my son,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s personal now.”
Again, I try to leave, and she clings to me, making me turn around and sigh. “You can’t stop me from doing this, Laura. No one can.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” I stand still as she wraps her arms around me and impulsively hugs me. I’m overwhelmed by her warmth even after the cold shoulder I gave her. How can I not feel guilty?
“This is crazy …” she murmurs.
I agree.
I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want her to stop.
But I know I have to do this. “Maybe crazy is the only way I can function right.”
“I don’t believe that.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. Anything I say is wrong, and we both know it. Besides, I don’t want to get into it right now. I’ve got other things on my mind, and I think she can tell.
She pulls away and says, “Give me your phone.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Just do it.”
Reluctantly, I hand it over, wondering what she wants with it. She pushes a few buttons and then hands it back to me. “You’ve got my number now, so call me if you get into trouble.”
“Okay.” Well, that was surprising.
She hugs me again, almost squeezing the air out of me. As she lets go, she rubs her lips and says, “I’ll drop by the church later. See if you’re okay.”
It’s not a question, so I guess I have no choice in the matter.
When I turn around and start walking again, she yells, “Will you get hurt?”
“I’ll try not to,” I say.
“Be careful.”
Her comment makes me smile, and I don’t fucking know why.
I shouldn’t feel this way about his fucking daughter … yet I do.
Goddamn this fucking heart of mine.
18
I kick open the door to the butcher’s shop, not giving a shit that customers are inside. “Everybody get out!” I yell.
People seem confused at first, but when I rummage in my pocket, they scramble for the door. I’m not carrying a gun, but the mere idea that I might makes people run, which is exactly what I want. Chaos.
With furrowed brows, the shop owner barges past the cash register and toward me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls.
I don’t move one inch as he stands right in my face, towering above me. “I’m looking for Sergio.”
“Don’t know him,” the man growls, folding his arm.
“Of course, you don’t, but I know he’s here.”
He sneers, “What the fuck do you want?”
“I need to have a little chat with him,” I reply, narrowing my eyes.
“About what?” He squints too now.
I really don’t want to have more casualties than necessary, so I decide to take it down another route.
With a wicked grin on my face, I say, “Oh, you know … boy talk.”
“Boy talk?” He raises a brow.
“Yeah … he left his dildo at my place.”
His jaw drops, but nothing comes out except for a little gasp. He seems flabbergasted, so I grasp the opportunity to peer over his shoulder at the door in the back where I see a guy flash by.
“I also wanted to ask him if he could bring condoms next time,” I add, grinning as I watch him freeze.
“Uh …”
“You wanna hear more?” I ask.
“No, no, he’s right up there,” the guy says, pointing at the door I was looking at.
I place a hand on his shoulder, and he quickly steps aside. I pass him and say, “Thanks.”
He wipes his shirt precisely where I touched him, which makes me snort, but I have to keep my composure. Using the gay card is such a fun thing to do around homophobes.
I enter through the door and carefully look around before closing it behind me, twisting the lock to keep everyone out. I don’t want anyone to interrupt.
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