by Rhys Ford
Trey was hit first. One moment I was looking down at him, and the next I was eating pieces of his hair and bone. The shots were loud, echoing, and bouncing back against the buildings around us. Bullets tore through the thick wood posts holding up the porch roof, and I felt the sting of something crease my back.
I stood there, waiting for more bullets to hit me. I was back at that damned restaurant, wondering why Rick stopped talking… horrified when his body started to come apart in my hands. Any moment now, I’d go under, submerged in my own darkness and pain.
“Get down!” Bobby screamed.
His shout broke me from my memories, and I dove to the ground. Claudia’d gone down awkwardly, and she moaned, curled over onto her side. Bobby’s hands were under her arms, and he yanked hard, trying to get her to cover. His shoulder was bleeding, but from the looks of things, it wasn’t bad, just a graze.
Things were happening too quickly to do anything more than react. I grabbed Claudia around the waist, careful to keep my head down, and heaved, dragging her behind the hip-high broad stone wall I’d opted to close in the porch sides. Trey’s body twitched and flailed on the steps, his limbs refusing to believe his head’d been blown clear off his shoulders.
My ears were ringing, and it took me a moment to realize the shooting had stopped. A siren was circling in the distance, and I heard a babble of screams coming from the street. One high-pitched screech was making my head hurt as the woman kept keening and yelling about going after the car.
The scars along my side were protesting the rough treatment, and they seized when I tried to sit up. My shoulder barely whispered a complaint, and I sent it a silent thanks. My back was sticky when I drew my hand across where it stung, but the blood was only a smear, not a gushing wound I had to worry about.
Claudia was a different story.
There’s a point when fear is actually painful. It starts with the tightening of gums, as if my teeth were trying to escape the emotional horror that was coming. Following that, my stomach tries to flee, turning inside out like a ravenous starfish. Bile filled my mouth, and I swallowed wrong, taking the acid into my lungs and searing what air I had left inside of me.
I couldn’t move. Even as I watched Bobby work on Claudia’s chest and stomach, I was frozen in place. Her rosy complexion was ashen, and her hand was freezing cold when I squeezed her fingers. I was like a little kid again. Jostling her shoulder, I begged for her to wake up, promising anything I could just to see her open her eyes.
“Hold it together, Cole.” Bobby’s gruffness snapped me back into focus. “Fucking don’t fall apart on me, man. I don’t need that shit right now. Put your hands on her chest and push in. We need to keep the bleeding down.”
She was soft, a pillowy woman whose core was harder than steel. Other than Bobby and Mike, she’d been the first one I’d opened up to, after the shooting. Even Maddy’d taken a bit of time before I warmed up to her, but Claudia’d strolled into my heart, and threw open the windows I’d hammered shut to keep the light out like I was something that just needed a good spring cleaning. It wasn’t the first time I’d touched her, but it was the only time when she hadn’t hugged me back.
That’s how Claudia’s son Marcel found us, our hands clasped over his mother’s lifeless body, trying to hold her together. He’d come to pick up his mother, something the brood divided among themselves, so everyone could have that half-hour drive alone with the woman who was the center of their family.
His scream was a horrible thing, anguished and tearing, drowning out the ambulance’s sirens rounding the corner. His howls lasted seemingly forever, and we fought to have him give us space to hold her together, but he wouldn’t let go.
It took both of us to pull him off her, and even then, it was a mean struggle. The EMTs were brisk, a crack triage team who had her hooked up to strings of plastic tubing with blood and fluids before I could find my voice. A gurney whisked her into the back of the ambulance, and Marcel stumbled around, mutely holding onto Bobby for support. Our hands were covered in Claudia’s blood, and the cops were beginning to tape off the front walk, keeping the onlookers from strolling up the cement path to take a closer look at the dead body on my steps.
I sat down on the hard ground, hitting the dirt and grass with my clenched fists. The tears I’d been too scared to let go finally came, and I bit my lip, sobbing in hitched breaths as uniforms began corralling people who’d seen the car flee. My fingers trembled when I dug out my cell phone, and I swallowed, unsure if I could even speak as I dialed. A soft voice answered on the second ring, amused and affectionate in my ear.
Shaking, I struggled with what to say, then finally gave in to my fear and pain. “I need you, baby. Please… just come. Claudia’s been shot, and… I need you. Bad.”
THE hospital waiting area looked much like it did when we visited Shin-Cho, except for the sheer bulk and noise of the people gathered there. Unlike the nearly wake-like atmosphere around Shin-Cho, Claudia’s clan gathered as a wall of strength. A few were standing together, praying with their heads down and hands clasped around each other’s waists. A man I didn’t know stood with them, clutching a bible in one hand as he led them with a sonorous, flowing voice. In a corner, a couple of toddlers played on the carpet, watched over by a teenage boy who’d not yet grown into his feet.
I did a fast headcount, then lost track of the final number just as quickly. Most of Claudia’s sons were there, as well as wives and grandchildren. I recognized some of them, but others were strangers, including a small Asian woman sitting beside a large, grieving dark-skinned man. She ran her hand over his bald head and gave me a tiny smile when I walked into the fray.
I made it three steps in before someone who looked like Malcolm came up to me and put his hand on my chest. I had to look up to meet his angry eyes. Most of Claudia’s brood and sub-brood were taller than me by five inches or more, a mean feat since I topped over six feet in my socks.
“Get the fuck out of here.” He chewed his words, spitting them out at me in a rapid fire burst. “You’re the reason Nana’s here.”
“Sit down, Gareth, and that’s your one warning about swearing.” A petite black woman in a sleeveless dress scolded the young man. “You’re making a fool of yourself. Your grandmother would want him here. Don’t make me slap some sense in you.”
He glowered at me for another moment, then shuffled off to stand against the wall with other members of his herd. They gathered around him, either offering support for his speaking up or chastising him for being an ass. It was hard to tell with the worried looks everyone had on their faces.
“Hey. Good to see you, man.” Martin, Claudia’s oldest, approached me. Drawing me into a bear hug, he squeezed what little life I had left in me, after seeing his mother shot. I felt like a child standing next to him, and if he’d wanted to, I was pretty sure he could pop my eyes out of my skull just by slapping the back of my head. “Momma’s doing okay. The doctors say she was lucky. The bullets didn’t hit anything they have to worry about. They’re taking them out now.”
“Thank fucking God.” I reeled back with relief. Just as quickly as I spoke, I deflected the sharp looks I got from most of the adults with an apology for my language. “I’m sorry about this, Marty. I really am. I’ll take care of all of this. Promise.”
“I know, dude.” He grinned down at me. “You’re a good guy. Hell, Momma says you’re the kid she had with the ice cream man. “Come on. Sit down. We’re just waiting for the doc to come back and tell us where they’re going to put her.”
Next to me, Jae was eyeing the massive collection of Claudia’s legacy. He edged closer. I didn’t blame him. Emotions were running high, and there was no guarantee that we’d make it out the doors before some pissed off Claudia-kid tried to rip our heads off. He hovered, finally perching on the arm of the chair one of the grandkids had been told to give up custody of so I could sit down.
There was too much noise around, and it was too hot. Every few second
s, someone brushed against my leg or arm. With each passing second, my skin grew tighter around me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Something horrible was working out from deep inside my chest, and I rubbed at the scars on my side, willing them to stop rippling spasms through my torso.
I didn’t realize Jae’d stood up until he tapped me on the shoulder and crooked his finger for me to follow. I looked around, not wanting to leave the room in case someone came with answers to questions I couldn’t even voice. He silently insisted, sliding his hand under my upper arm and pulling me to my feet.
“Come on,” he murmured into my ear. “Let’s go outside for some air. I asked Martin to call me if they find something out.”
It was a shock to see the night sky. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe some part of my brain was willing time to stop, but the world didn’t care that one of the women in my life was bleeding out on a table somewhere. Around us, people were shuffling into the hospital, intent on their own business. An older couple passed by us, carrying flowers and a bunch of balloons shouting “Congratulations” across their Mylar skins.
“I should get some for Claudia, flowers or balloons,” I mumbled, looking down. I was still wearing the Dr Pepper shirt, its hem soaked up with dried blood. My jeans were speckled in places, and while I didn’t remember falling to the lawn, I must have, judging from the ground-in grass stains on my knees.
“Maybe without ‘Congratulations’ on them, though,” Jae said softly. “Unless getting shot is something like a McGinnis skills test. I can’t see you getting a lot of employees if they have to be shot at least once in order to work for you.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh. It sounded rusty and painful, but it was still a laugh. “Sometimes I forget you’ve got a sick sense of humor.”
“I use it sparingly,” he said, nodding. “It makes it more special.”
“Oh, it’s special all right,” I agreed. “Hey, did you talk to Bobby?”
“Yeah, he’s coming by in a bit.” Jae shuffled his feet and jerked his head toward the smokers’ circle. “Come on, keep me company.”
We kept to the far side of the area, straddling a bench so we could face each other. He drew out a kretek and lit it, pulling a mouthful of fragrant clove smoke into his lungs. I stared at him until he shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, but still he said nothing, shooting me an odd glance once in a while.
He was still the exotic creature I’d first seen at his relatives’ house. A quiet, conflicted young man who, I’d since learned, laughed softly and cuddled a miniature furry tornado to his chest as he worked on his computer. Looking at Jae still took my breath away, but now I could see the man beneath the beautiful exterior. He didn’t use words to tell me what he thought, usually letting small things speak for him, like a morning cup of coffee waiting for me when I stumbled into the bathroom before heading to work. I understood the wildness inside of him, that driving, passionate need to prowl through dark and abandoned places, to capture pieces of art only he could see.
It was that deep passion he drew on when he took me inside of him, sometimes riding my hips and bruising my shoulders with his clenching fingers. It ran in him, unseen by most, and I was humbled to be included in the tiny circle of people he let in.
“Don’t ever change,” I murmured, leaning forward to kiss him before he could take another drag on his clove. “Just be you.”
“I have to change,” he said, returning my kiss with a fierceness that made my heart beat faster. “But it’ll be for the better. For us both.”
“Thought I’d find the two of you out here.” Bobby broke the moment, and Jae ducked his head, suddenly aware we’d kissed out in the open where people could see him.
Bobby put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. He’d grabbed spare clothes from someplace, probably the back of his truck, because the bright blue shirt had JoJo’s gym logo emblazoned across the front of his chest. Tossing a plastic grocery bag at me, he said, “I brought you something to change into.”
“Huh.” I held up a gray shirt bearing the same logo. “We’ll be twins.”
“It was all I had.” Bobby shrugged. “Wear it with pride.”
I pulled the bloodstained shirt off and shoved it into the bag. The small bandage across my back where the bullet grazed me pulled as I moved, but for the most part, it was the least annoying of my past wounds. I used a few of the baby wipes Bobby tossed into the bag to clean off any smears left on my belly, smiling reassuringly at Jae when he frowned at my bare torso.
“Just that line on my back. Promise.” I shook out the shirt. “The rest isn’t mine.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to get shot?” he said, pursing his lips in disapproval. “I think I distinctly said, do not get shot.”
“It was a crease,” I protested. “That doesn’t count. You got creased. Remember?”
He grunted at me, unconvinced by my argument. Taking one last drag, he exhaled a plume of smoke, then extinguished the rest of his kretek. “Do you want something to drink? The vending machines have iced green tea.”
“That’ll be great.” I snagged his hand before he could leave. “Thanks, babe. For being here.”
“Of course I’m here,” he said, giving me a look that told me he thought I’d gone mad. “Claudia is your nuna. Where else would I be?”
“Can I get a coffee? You know, me? The person who saved his life?” Bobby shouted after him. Jae waved the air without looking back, and I chuckled at Bobby’s sigh of exasperation. “It’s like I don’t even exist.”
“I’m fine with that.” I grumbled when he hit my shoulder. “Dude, not there. Bullet, last month. Remember? Fuck.”
“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized, but it didn’t look like he meant it. “You’re so much of a mess, I don’t even remember where I can slap you. How are you doing?”
“It’s a fucking shock. I’m going to kill the person who did this.” We were the only ones out in the cancer zone, but the air was still thick with the musty smell of cigarettes. “I’m glad you came. Thanks.”
“Not a problem.” He shook off my gratitude with a smile. “I spoke to the hospital admin lady. They’ll put Claudia in a private room. I told her you’d pay for it.”
“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. Thanks. It’ll be better for the family. They’ll want to hover.”
“Again, not a problem. You’ve had other shit on your brain,” Bobby replied. “The cops want to talk to you again.”
“Yeah? Why?” I couldn’t imagine what else I could tell them. We’d spent more than a couple of hours going over my involvement with Trey and hadn’t come up with a single reason someone would want me dead.
“They found the car. Someone on your street wrote down the license plate number,” he said softly. “It’s a rental.”
“Okaaaaay.” I drew the word out. “I still don’t know anything else.”
“They’re wondering if maybe you’ve got a Korean lover, or something,” he said, his eyes shifting to the hospital entrance where Jae was just coming out, carrying a bag and a paper coffee cup. “The gun was in there, along with a bunch of papers in Korean. There’s also photos, Cole. Of Shin-Cho coming out of your house. They asked if you were cheating on someone. I told them about Jae….”
“This was not Jae,” I spat at my best friend. “There’s no fucking way this is Jae.”
“I don’t think it is, kid,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But I do think it’s connected to what you’re working on. Someone wants you dead, Cole. Someone who knows you’re poking around in Dae-Hoon’s shit. We have to find out who was driving that fucking car before they finish what they started. No matter how much you piss me off sometimes, the last thing I want is to see you dead, Princess. The last fucking thing I want.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE place shouldn’t have looked the same. Not by any means. But with the exception of police tape flapping in the late night breeze and the dark gouges in the white paint of the porch
pillars, the building pretty much acted like nothing happened.
There were a bunch of beeping machines in a nearby hospital that would tell a different story, but the building couldn’t give a shit.
I was tired and emotionally worn out. Claudia’d been moved to ICU with a tentative relocation to a private room in the morning. The family chased me out, promising to tell me if anything went south, but the doctors reassured us she was fine, and her vitals were strong. The only thing I was scheduling was waking up in the afternoon, and maybe crawling downstairs to get something to eat. Depending on the hospital, I’d hit up Claudia for a visit once they let people in to see her.
There was a message from a Detective Wong on the machine when we got home. I listened to it for a few seconds, then walked away, letting the soft-voiced cop drone on while I hunted for a beer in the fridge. Behind me, Jae made himself a cup of hot tea, leaning against the counter to watch me shuffle around the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked. I turned to face him, the beer bottle touching my lips.
“I think I’m too tired to think,” I admitted, taking a swig of Tsingtao. “My hair is yawning.”
“You should eat something,” Jae reproached. “All you’ve had is tea and that beer.”
“Beer’s a grain. Like whiskey’s oatmeal.” He snorted, and I downed half the beer, then dumped it down the sink. My stomach was gurgling, and the back of my eyelids felt sticky with sand. “Babe, I’m not hungry. Really. I think I just want to fall over.”
Neko took offense to us lying down on the bed, and took off for parts unknown in the house. I doused myself long enough in the shower to soap up and rinse the hospital smell off me, then crawled under the covers. The lights were still on, and Jae was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.
That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up screaming.