by Rob Pierce
I stopped at 411. Fucking information. I tried the doorknob. It was locked so I knocked. The stuff I had on this guy didn’t tell me how he’d react. I didn’t even know how he felt, only that he told Theresa he loved her. I was about to find out what he meant by that.
My ear against his door, I heard a television but no footsteps. He hadn’t buzzed anyone up, so he might think my knock was across the hall. I knocked again. The fuzzy TV voices kept talking. No one came to the door or called out like their show had been interrupted.
I hit the door hard. “Hey, Davis!”
A couple of seconds passed. “Who is it?” His voice was stronger than I expected, as though things were normal. Also as though he stood right behind the door.
I hadn’t heard him draw near, which maybe meant he wasn’t in a panic. He could have been approaching slowly for a while.
“I’m the suitcase man.”
“Who?”
“You know who. The suitcase man. Theresa’s man.”
“I’m not opening the door.”
“You don’t have to do anything. I know where you live. What you look like, what you drive, where you work. We’re going to talk.”
There was a mumble and the door opened a crack. The latched chain hung in front of me. Davis blinked a couple times, opened his mouth and exhaled. He unlatched the chain and took a step back.
I pushed the door and he stepped back farther. He stood with his arms at his sides, a big kitchen knife in his right hand.
I stepped in sideways and looked at him over my left shoulder. He was my height and only a little thinner. “Drop it.”
“When I feel safe.” He didn’t look scared, and I didn’t know how good he was with a knife.
“Then step back farther.”
He shook his head. “I stay where I can reach you.”
That made sense, in case I had a gun, not if I didn’t. “I’m unarmed. You can frisk me.”
Davis shook his head.
“One step back then, so I can shut the door.”
Davis hesitated, then stepped back. His grip on the knife tightened. I shut the door behind me. “I can take that from you any time I want.”
“You get cut if you try.”
“I don’t wanna try. I want my money.”
“Money?”
“A hundred eighty bucks. You know about my suitcase. It was in there. Now it ain’t. I want it back.”
He waited a second before he spoke. “You had a suitcase with a hundred eighty bucks in it? What was it filled with, nickels?”
“You know better than that. I’m surprised you got the balls to talk that way, but you know better. There’s more money. One eighty’s what’s missing.”
“If someone robbed you, why didn’t they take it all?”
“I figure you wanted something particular. You only took what you needed. You thought I wouldn’t notice. You thought I was your fucking bank, you could come back for more when you needed it.”
He brought his knife up to his hip and I left jabbed him in the mouth. The punch knocked him back and the knife hand lowered but it didn’t let go. I spun around his left side, got behind him and brought my right arm up to his neck in a choke hold. He struggled but it wasn’t much. I tightened my arm on his neck, grabbed his right wrist with my free hand and waited.
He threw his left elbow into my ribs. It hurt and I took it, kept my right arm tight across his neck and my left hand tight on his wrist. He elbowed my ribs again, not as hard as the first time but it still hurt. His knife hand tried to break free. I held it tighter and he elbowed me again, not hard this time. My arm pushed against his windpipe. He struggled for air and I pressed myself into him, leaned on him as I choked him. He toppled to the floor and I fell on top. He dropped his knife and I pressed hard into his lower back with one knee. I picked up the knife.
“I don’t want this,” I said, stood over him with it and stepped away. “And you don’t want to fight me. Tell me where my money is.”
He lay still a minute, then rolled over slowly onto his back, checking for damage. He was out of breath, that was all. It came back and he spoke. “I don’t know about any money. I was there for Theresa. Anyway, a hundred eighty bucks ain’t worth the trouble.”
More like an amount that would seem impressive to a kid. I’d believed Jeremy, but that meant nothing; children lie to survive.
“I’m gonna go, but I’ll tell you this for the next time we talk. I don’t like complications. Some fucking complication got into my suitcase. When I find out the details, that gets simplified. I eliminate complications.”
Davis’s eyes went wide. “Don’t hurt Jeremy.”
I kicked him in the ribs and he doubled up. “That ain’t what I meant.”
I walked out of the room and back to the elevator and rode down alone. Davis wasn’t the kind of threat I thought he’d be: I’d expected a romantic idiot but not one who’d pull a knife. Of course, he wasn’t much good with it. And I was still out a hundred eighty bucks. It was Theresa or Jeremy; Davis sounded like he knew which. I’d get back to the apartment and figure it out.
***
It had to be the kid. If Theresa needed two hundred she’d have told me. Hell, she’d told me Jeremy took it. She ratted out her own son, but she couldn’t have meant it that way. She was protecting herself, she had to think Jeremy would admit it. Still, it meant she feared me.
“I thought you wanted to be Jeremy’s dad. I shared information. It’s something parents do. All I said was I didn’t take the money. You assumed from that.”
It was late but she was standing and pacing when I got back.
“If it wasn’t you, it was Jeremy.”
“Says you. I never said he took it. And you said I did. And you said it in front of him.”
“It’s you or it’s him.” I knew I was right, but she was too.
“You gotta make this right.”
“Okay.” I shook my head, stretched my neck and let it go. I ran my hands back through my hair. “You didn’t say it. But he’s the one took the money.”
Theresa shuddered. “No.”
“What’s he do for fun? He doesn’t play ball, no one ever taught him. What’s he do when he’s out of the house?”
Theresa’s whole body quivered. “Nothin. He plays those card games.”
“He plays cards?”
“You know, the Yugioh, stuff like that.” She talked like I knew.
“They have games with those?”
“Hell yeah, they have tournaments, go all day on a weekend.”
“And he goes and what happens?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “He goes and he plays. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses.”
“But sometimes he wins. Does he bring home prizes?”
“Prizes? I think they pay those boys in cards. You wanna see Jeremy excited, talk to him about those damn cards.”
I nodded. “I will.” I turned around, opened the door, walked toward Jeremy’s room.
Theresa grabbed my arm. “Not now. It’s late.”
I kept walking.
She stepped in front of me, faced me. “I mean it. He has school tomorrow.”
I pushed her aside. “And I have to know where my money went tonight.”
She followed me down the hall.
I opened Jeremy’s door, stepped into the room and shut it. I knew Theresa leaned against it, listening. Jeremy was in bed, but he was reading, not sleeping, sitting against a large pillow propped against the wall. The book looked too big for him. He peered over it.
“Jeremy. The games you play on weekends. What do those cost you?”
He lowered his book and looked at me. “The games are free.”
“What about the cards?”
He looked down, like he was reading again.
“The cards,” I said.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“They cost money.” Jeremy didn’t answer. “Much?”
“Well,” he said, “wh
en new decks come out.”
“New decks? With new cards?”
Jeremy looked over his book, set it on his lap and nodded emphatically. “There’s Rares, and there’s Super Rares, and there’s Ultra Rares. And Secret Rares too. When the new deck comes out, you have to get them all.”
“Or you lose?”
“For sure. Everyone gets the new decks.”
“And you have to buy a lot of decks to get a lot of Rares?”
Jeremy nodded fast and stopped. “But I—”
I looked him in the eyes. My nod was slow. “You wanted to win and took what wasn’t yours.”
“I—”
“Got caught. You stole my money. You steal and get caught, you’re punished. That’s a rule outside this house, and it’s a rule inside. Outside, they got some nasty punishments. Inside, I set the rules, and those ain’t so sweet either.”
Jeremy was in tears. He was a little kid, and I didn’t like seeing him like that. I don’t hate kids, I hate people who bully them. But he’d fucked up, there was nothing I could do.
Jeremy looked up. “I’m sorry.”
“I need two hundred dollars worth of sorry. That’s what you owe me.”
The door opened at my back. I turned fast. Theresa spoke from right behind me. “We need to talk.”
“Don’t sneak up on me. I almost hit you.”
She took a step back, stayed in the room. “Okay. We need to talk.”
I stepped past her into the hall. She shut the door.
“I don’t think we do,” I said. “Not about this.”
“He’s ten.”
“I know. And you’re scaring the shit out of him bringing me out here. That’s more than the punishment would have done.”
“What punishment?”
“He owes me two hundred dollars. He can work it off. But he’ll get paid like a wetback.”
***
Paid like a wetback for what, that’s what Theresa wanted to know and I hadn’t figured out. I went back into that room and told Jeremy he’d have to work off what he owed me, but all I wanted to do with the kid was play catch and get him in shape, make him someone the other kids wouldn’t want to beat up. He might have had too many easy years to ever be tough, but I could help him get strong.
“Fear goes away when you face it. But if you don’t face it with strength, you might get another fear. What are you scared of? Getting beat up?”
Jeremy didn’t answer.
“Who beats you up? Kids in your own class? Or older kids?”
“No one mostly.”
I’d been stretching when the kid got home, kept going while we talked. I stood in front of the couch, bent down until my right palm touched the rug in front of my left foot. “But when it happens—kids your own age?”
“Yeah, well, sometimes.” His voice was quiet.
I straightened up, bent down with the other arm. “Sometimes is too much. Are you scared of these kids?”
Jeremy shook his head.
My right palm touched the rug again. “But they hurt you?”
“Sometimes.”
“If you want me to save you…” I stood straight, between stretches. “It’ll never happen.”
Jeremy had a helpless look on his face, like he was doomed and he always had been.
“Jesus,” I said. “Don’t give up like that.” I stopped stretching, squatted down to his level. “Hit me in the face as hard as you can.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His fist came up fast and I blocked it with my arm. He shook his little hand like he was getting water off it.
“I’m gonna teach you two things. How to block that and how to land it. Your life will get better.”
He looked up at me and grinned. “Thanks, Uncle Dust. Teach me fast.”
“Every night after your homework’s done. I’ll get you in shape and I’ll teach you how to fight.”
“Mom won’t like it.”
“Your mom loves you, Jeremy. But she doesn’t understand what a man has to be. I’ll explain it to her.”
***
I’d been spending too much time with people who weren’t thieves. I could tell Theresa some stories but I couldn’t let her into my life. Instead, I’d push myself into hers.
Theresa got indignant fast. “It’s not like I have him playing with dolls.”
“No, you have him playing with geeks.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Better than dumb jocks. Anyway, he likes the card games.”
“Yeah, but he gets beat up a lot.”
“What? At the tournaments?”
I laughed. “Of course not.”
“At school then.”
“Kids from school, yeah.”
She was putting groceries away. I sat with my back to the kitchen bar, a scotch in my hand. She shut the fridge door and faced me. “So who the hell’s beating up Jeremy?”
I took a slug and set down my drink, leaned back on both elbows. “It’ll always be someone. So long as he’s weak and a geek. Other kids see that and they pounce.”
“So what did you have in mind?”
“Maybe he isn’t afraid yet,” I said. “But they can beat that fear into a boy.”
“But they haven’t done that to Jeremy.”
“Yet.” I got up from my stool and put an arm around her waist. We walked into the living room and sat on the couch. “When I was a kid I had to learn how to fight, my old man beat me. Jeremy’s at a disadvantage. I’ll get him gloves, headgear, a small bag. Some weights, too. He needs to bulk up.”
Theresa looked me hard in the eyes. “You’re gonna teach him how to fight.”
She didn’t treat it like a question; neither did I, looked straight back at her. “Yep.”
“Good. I don’t want my boy getting beat up.”
I’d expected an argument. Instead she leaned toward me and took my hands in hers. I should have known she’d do what was best for her son. I looked at where her hands held mine. We were both in this world, but not really part of it. I looked up at her face: serious, intent. I looked back down and held her hands tighter.
***
“Your mom okayed the gear.”
“She did?” Jeremy’s eyes and mouth opened wide.
“Get in the car.”
Me and Jeremy at the sporting goods store: this could turn into a regular thing. I walked him over to where the heavy bags were. “I wanted to show you this stuff. We don’t need anything but gloves and headgear today. You need to get used to hitting and getting hit.”
Jeremy grinned up at me. “I’m kinda used to getting hit already.”
I patted him on the shoulder and smiled back. “Okay, maybe we need to get you less used to that.” I dropped my head and threw a hard left hook into the nearest heavy bag. It shuddered backward.
“Wow,” Jeremy said.
“Maybe we should get you a small bag. Good thing to have when you want to punch something.”
“Yeah, we should get one.” He was little and excited and he wanted to hit something. He was mine.
***
Jeremy was a quick learner. He had plenty of anger but he needed more muscle, so I got him on ten pound dumbbells with a lot of reps. He needed power, leverage, and balance. He was aggressive, so when I taught him how to box I had to slow him down, make him focus on technique. I also taught him how to pull an opponent’s sweater up over his arms and when to stomp on a foot before throwing a step-back jab.
In exchange for teaching him how to fight, he was supposed to teach me how to play cards. The type of cards he liked to play, where each card was some kind of monster with magical abilities. They all looked like dragons or gay Asians to me.
“You gotta understand. I know poker and I know blackjack. These ain’t the cards I grew up playin.”
“It’s for ages eight and up. I’m ten. You just have to want to know.”
“Teach me how to play and I’ll kick your ass. If I don’t, you d
idn’t teach me well enough. It sucks to be the teacher.”
We sat next to each other on the living room couch. It was a practice game and every card had to be explained to me. Jeremy squinted. “I’m the teacher?”
“And your student knows nothing.”
“But you want to play, right?”
I dug an elbow gently into his ribs. “Yeah.”
“So. You start with eight thousand life points.”
“And how do you win?”
“When your opponent has zero life points.”
“So you kill him.”
“Uh, yeah.”
I looked more intently at my cards. “I can play that kind of game.”
***
There was nothing I wanted to buy, nowhere I wanted to go. I lifted weights in the apartment, went to the park and ran. Then I’d stay there and watch people. A movie was okay sometimes, but it was hard to sit alone in a theater knowing the world was outside, filled with real people I could be meeting, real money I could be stealing.
I didn’t need money yet but I needed the rush. Daytime emptiness: Theresa wasn’t there to fill it, and booze couldn’t. Drinking was what I settled for when there was nothing else. Drunk, I could stay in the apartment and watch videos. Drunk, I could go outside and pretend I might get laid. Hell, if I got drunk in a bar I might not have to pretend.
I had more options before Theresa, and now I cared about Jeremy too. So I couldn’t just take off, but sitting still was killing me. I needed a small bank, something I could do as a solo job. Somewhere that required mostly attitude and a basic plan. I searched for local banks online, wrote down the names and addresses of the ones I’d never heard of, and went for a drive.
***
“I got a job,” I said. “I’ll be gone a day or two.”
“Where?” Theresa stood facing me in the middle of the living room. It was mid-afternoon, almost time for her to pick up Jeremy from school.
I shook my head. “I’ll be back when it’s safe. Don’t worry. This is low risk.”
That was bullshit, a bank job could always get a man killed, but I was more dangerous than any security guard, and no partners meant no double-cross.
“You sure it’s only two days?”
“Nothing’s ever sure. What, you gonna miss me?”