by Tia Lewis
I had never lied to the boss. Buried under a bridge and all that… But there was something about the word whore when connected with Tess that didn’t rub me the right way. It wasn’t that I cared about her being called a whore per se. It was that I was starting to see her as my whore. And when Boss said it with his greasy lips, it somehow made that less valuable.
She was mine now. She belonged to me. No way was I going to give her up especially since I haven’t tasted the sweet nectar between her thighs yet. But, I had never lied to Boss, and I found myself doing it now, bridge or no bridge.
“Whore?” I said, voice changing not one bit, never dropping eye contact. “I didn’t see any whores. I just came across these three Russians talking shit about the Drunk Harpy crew.”
“Is that right?” he asked. He cocked an eyebrow at me, his interest clearly piqued.
“Yes. I heard them say: ‘You see that bastard, Samson?’ ‘You see that skinny little fuck Quick-Toes?’ So I told them, ‘Watch your fucking mouth.’ Then one of the Russian men—a fat fuck starts going on and on like he was somebody important, so I closed his mouth with my pistol.”
Boss didn’t reply. Instead, he took another swig of whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That’s what happened.”
Boss looked doubtful.
“That doesn’t explain the two men at the whore’s apartment. I heard about that too.”
I bit my lip feeling nervous and I rarely, if ever, felt nervous. I had seen and done so much that my heartbeat hardly varied. But it varied now; it started pounding like somebody kicking down a door. I’d be damned if I gave in and ratted out Tess. I could taste her sweet pussy now…
“You were seen entering, and leaving her apartment. I heard you fucked up two Russians in there, too.”
My heart beat so fast I was surprised the little bastard didn’t jump up my throat. I searched my mind which surprised me because I’ve been a step above others when it came to thinking and planning. It took more than muscles to get ahead in a gang like this.
“Are you listening?”
“I am. I’m fucking pissed off.”
“Pissed off?” Boss asked, laying his fists on the desk, clearly taken aback by my tone.
“Yeah, I’m pissed off. Pissed off because those Russians are telling goddamned lies about me and they don’t know who the fuck I am. The Russians I met in the alley said to me, ‘If you think you’re tough shit then come and meet us here.’ And they gave me the address of the apartment. I figured it was an organized fight or something. I couldn’t let that shit go. I’m no fucking pussy.”
All this for Tess, I thought, wondering if I was making the right decision. Is she even worth it?
Boss was silent for a second. I thought I could have cut the tension in two with a knife; it was solid and stifling, threatening to choke me as I sat under Boss’ scrutiny. Then he growled: “Bastards! Fucking bastards!”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Fucking bastards!” Boss roared. “Liam, go home! I’ll drop-off the next job.”
I nodded and walked out the room.
“Little Man! Get in here!”
Little Man, another runner, poked his head through the door.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Drive Liam home and give him something for this.” Boss sighed, relaxing as he poured himself another drink.
I wanted to run out of the Drunk Harpy like it was on fire, but I forced myself to walk with my hands in my pockets. Did I just make a big mistake that’s going to cost me my life? I thought. I nodded to Gunner and Quick-Toes and headed for the front door.
“Liam!” Samson stopped me in my tracks. “What was that about? Why was Boss yelling?”
“Nah, it’s nothing, man,” I casually shrugged off his question. “Have you checked on your grandmother recently?”
“For what? She can take care of herself,” Samson smirks.
I nodded and walked out the bar while Little Man followed behind me.
“So it was all bullshit?” Little Man asked.
“Of course it fucking was,” I growled, wishing the mechanic would hurry the fuck up and fix my car. I got in his car, and we rode in silence back to my apartment. When I left the car, I half-expected to be shot in the back.
Stranger things had happened in South Boston.
Chapter Six
The Animal.
That nickname still stuck around, even though it's been over ten years since I’d used a sawed-off shotgun to kill. My friends thought that I was crazy, insane… an animal. As a kid coming up, that would have been my weapon of choice, before I realized it was way noisier and messier than a simple strip of razor wire. I’d walk into wherever I’d been hired to walk into, a kid shy of my sixteenth birthday, and blast whoever I’d been hired to blast right in the face. Then I’d walk out. Nowadays I was a little quieter, but people still remembered names in the neighborhood, and I doubted if people would ever stop calling me that nickname. Even the goddamned Russians knew my handle.
When I walked through my apartment door, I saw Tess had pulled the coffee table to the curtains. The dusty laptop was perched on her knees. She held it with one hand. With the other she pulled back the black curtain and poked her head out, searching the street below.
When I closed the door, she let the curtain go, and her gaze snapped to me. She had half-stood, ready to run or fight, but when she saw it was me she sat back down.
“You scared the shit out of me!”
I just risked my life for you again, Tess, I thought.
“Quiet,” I commanded. Maybe there was something deadly in my tone because she didn’t say a word.
I went into the shower and drenched myself with cold water. I needed to get Tess out of my head. I needed to figure this shit out. There was a simple solution: kill her and be done with it or I could let the Russians have her, but that would mean owning up to the lie, and you only lied to Boss once. Plus, I didn’t really like the idea of giving her up. Why should some fat Russian bastard get to touch what’s mine? It made me fucking homicidal to even think about another fucker running his hands along her kissable ass.
Damn it, damn it, God-fucking-damn-it!
A couple of days ago, my life had been pretty simple. If I wanted to fuck a woman, I could always go and find one. Or they would come to me begging me to fuck them because they were attracted to the lure of danger. I didn’t have to bring them back and start playing house. But here I was doing just that. Fuck! I swear Tess had me under a spell—her gutsy attitude, perseverance, heavenly sex appeal… Fuck!
I went into the living room, looked at her, and for a second I forgot that pretty soon this woman might be the cause of my death. She looked frightened and youthful with her freckled cheeks and her bright, wide eyes. I felt my cock pressing hard against the towel wrapped around my waist, and saw her eyes go to it as they usually did. I thought about bending her over and drilling into her tight little pussy, stretching it wide and fucking her hard. Then, I’d make her moan, and then throat-fuck her so hard tears run would down her delicate face.
But all the time I’d be thinking of Boss and being buried underneath a bridge, and that was no way to fuck.
I turned away from her and went into the bedroom.
I opened my closet door and pulled my oversized suitcase from underneath a thick pile of clothes. I sat the case down, opened it and placed the neatly folded clothes on the bed until I got to my money: my nest egg saved up from years and years of work—about six million in cash. I thought about depositing it in local banks but in my line of work I can’t afford to leave paper trails. This was my only safety net, and with it, I could go anywhere. But if there was truth in that there was truth in this, too: Boss had a much bigger safety net, and he could go anywhere, too. I put the folded clothes on top of my money, closed the suitcase and put it back in my closet underneath the thick pile of clothes.
“Hey? Are you okay?” Tess called from the next room.
I ignored her and laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to clear my mind. I wasn’t worried about the Russians anymore. Boss and the Bianchi crime family were far more dangerous than the Russians would ever be. Boss trusted me, but when he finds out about the lie, his anger would be much worse. My thoughts ran on and on like this for around thirty minutes. Is she worth it? I thought to myself.
Then the apartment buzzer sounded, and I jumped to my feet and headed to the door. Tess was on her feet, too, sending the laptop on the floor.
“It’s just the buzzer.”
“Oh, okay,” she nodded.
“Who is it?”
“Delivery.”
“I’ll pay extra for you to bring it up here.”
“Come on, bro, I have more deliveries to do.”
“One-hundred.”
“Dollars? For a tip?”
“Yes.”
“Here I come.”
I stood in the hallway and paid the man there, and brought the food into the apartment. I dropped it on the coffee table.
“Here,” I said, and she started putting the food away. Fruit, vegetables, the whole deal. It was more food than I’d ever had in my apartment. I ate mostly at the local diners who treated the Drunk Harpy crew like royalty.
“You seem different,” Tess said from the kitchen. “You look… worried.”
“Worry about yourself.”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you at the same time.”
I wasn’t in the mood for talking. I had just lied to Boss. That was a sucker move. That was an amateur move. That wasn’t a move somebody as experienced as I should have made. But I’d fucking made it, and here I was.
“Goodnight,” I said and walked into the bedroom.
But I knew I wouldn’t sleep a second. I’d just lie on my back and stare up at the growing yellow stain on the ceiling like it was the lie I’d told, creeping over my life and messing everything up.
The door opened. I sat up.
“You closed the door,” Tess said. She sounded indignant, like my closing the door in my own apartment was a crime. “Can you please keep your door open? What if I need you in the night?”
“Use the kitchen light. That’s what it’s for,” I said dismissively. I didn’t have time to coddle her right now.
Her shoulders slumped, and she retreated back to the living room couch.
I looked up at the dirty, spreading stain and thought is this bitch’s pussy worth all this heat?
I woke as the sun rose, and left the apartment. I needed to walk and breathe in the fresh air. I guess it was fresh as it could be since it was mixed in with the scent of car exhaust and garbage.
There were a few people leaving bars from the night before, a few strippers and hookers, a few hard men walking out and about. It was chilly this early, and goose bumps rose on my bare arms. The traffic was light, quiet, and humming. Flocks of morning birds flew through the clear blue sky and filled the air with their chirping.
After around ten minutes of walking, I came to Old Dotty, who’d sat me on her knee as a kid. It was one of my earliest memories. I later learned Dotty’s husband was Big Frank, who we’d all looked up to back then, and that had only made me like her more. Now that Frank was dead, she was one of those cronies who didn’t do much except hang around. She’d wake up early and put on several layers of makeup to hide her wrinkles. Then she would put on her large hoop earrings, a tight-fitting dress, and high heels. After she had got dressed, she would stand on her porch and wave at people as they passed by. Now she wasn’t just waving her arms. She was flailing them around like she wanted to get someone’s attention.
She waved at me. “Liam! Liam!”
“What’s up Dotty?” I said, approaching her.
“They took it, Liam! They took it!”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Look!” She held her wrist up. “My watch!” she cried. “They took my watch!” There was an outline where the watch had been, a strip of white flesh that was a shade lighter than the rest of her skin.
“Who?”
“Them!” She pointed across the street.
That was when I saw them: two men sitting on the curb like they owned it. One was tall with cornrows and a red bandana tied around his head. He wore a red jersey about three sizes too big for him. He held a bottle in a brown paper bag in one hand; in the other, he kept the watch. The other was short and tougher-looking. He had long unruly hair and had his shirt tied around his waist, showing off his bare abs.
I sighed. “Alright, Dotty, wait here.”
“My husband gave me that watch, you know! And it was an heirloom! An heirloom!”
I walked with a leopard-like grace across the street until the two men looked up.
“You’ve got something that belongs to my friend,” I said. “Hand it over.”
“What the fuck did you say?”
“He said hand it over, bro. Ha, ha, ha!”
Both men stood up. The man with the long hair squared his shoulders. The man wearing the jersey moved the watch behind his back.
“Hand over the watch, and there won’t be any problems.” I tried to give the fuckers an easy out before shit got real.
How many times this week would I have to fuck somebody up without being paid? I was starting to feel like it was back in the day when I had to tool kids up, just to make Boss and all of them know I was worth something. These guys obviously didn’t know who I was. Maybe they thought it was a big joke, taking an old lady’s watch.
The man with the long hair moved toward me like he was going to jump at me.
“This muthafucka is crazy if he thinks…”
I didn’t go all out and start wrecking the guys or anything. I just grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it up behind his back. I did this easily, my arm muscles tensing only slightly, my torso becoming rigid. The man let out a little whimper, suddenly no longer the hard man he’d been seconds ago. My face was impassive, businesslike. This was my job. I did this shit every week. Didn’t these idiots realize they were dealing with a professional?
His friend went to move. I just shook my head and grimly laughed.
“Take a step, or I’ll break your friend’s arm in half.”
He took a step back.
“The watch. Now!” I gestured toward the watch that he was hiding.
The man with the bandana held the watch out. I saw the watch shaking, just as the man’s arm and lips trembled. They were scared shitless and riled up. I just clenched my jaw and held the man steady. I could’ve held the man all day like that, but I was quickly losing my patience.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” I warned them.
I pushed the man away and yanked the watch out of his hand. They turned to me like they were about to do something, but I must’ve looked especially crazy today because a moment later they ran away.
“You’re fucking crazy, man,” Bandana snapped as they ran down the street.
I returned to Dotty.
“Here you are, Dotty,” I smiled, and handed her the watch.
“Oh, Liam!” she laughed. “Oh, Liam, if only Frank were here to see you all grown up!”
She threw her arms around me. “Alright, alright, calm down,” I said, patting her awkwardly on her back.
Chapter Seven
I knew something was wrong when I saw the door was swinging on its hinges. I pulled out my pistol from my leather jacket and aimed it through the door as I shouldered it open. The table had been upturned, and the TV was smashed. I paced around the apartment, clearing all the rooms. My gun was aimed and steady; I was calm but ready to pull the trigger. Nobody was in the apartment, including Tess. I wasn’t prepared for the shock I felt at not finding her. I’d known this girl for less than three days, but I felt something valuable had been taken from me. When I felt a hand on my back, I quickly turned around ready to fire but stopped in time when I saw Tess’ wide eyes carrying a laundry basket of clothes.
>
“Bad idea to sneak up on me,” I said, lowering my pistol.
She stood frozen in fear, dropped the laundry basket and the coins in her hand on the floor.
“What happened?” I asked calmly.
She leaped back. “They came! They came!” she stifles a terrified cry. “I just went… and then they…”
She collapsed to the ground, next to the turned over laundry basket which spilled the pile of clean clothes. She started blankly at the floor, wheezing uncontrollably.
“What happened, Tess?” I asked again, kneeling down next to her.
I waited for around five minutes. She panted, still unable to catch her breath, and for once in my life I wished I knew how to calm somebody down. Kevin would’ve known what to do. He would’ve had the right words and was smart when it came to this emotional shit. But I was nothing like my sweet little brother, so I waited.
Finally, her breathing began to slow down. She looked up at me with teary eyes.
“I was bored so I started cleaning up this… place,” she waved her hands around and turned up her nose. “I saw a pile of your clothes and knew they were dirty because they smelled bloody awful. Like a hot locker room with socks everywhere.”
I gestured for her to get to the point.
“I found a laundry basket, some detergent and piled your clothes in the basket. I also found a stack of quarters on the kitchen counter and made my way to the basement. I assumed this building had a laundry room like most apartments.
“So, I waited in the basement for a round of clothes be cleaned, and when they were done I walked back up upstairs and then…” she paused. “And then that’s when I saw them... I saw the Russians, Liam.”
I rubbed my brows with a frown, and stood up and sat on the living room table.
She continued. “I was walking up the stairs, down the hall and as soon as I turned the corner, I saw two men who were holding guns and talking in Russian in front of your door. I quickly took a step and pinned my body against the wall. I don’t know if I was in shock because I couldn’t move. My mind was telling me to run, get out there, but I just held my breath and the laundry basket telling myself to not make a sound.”