by Tia Lewis
“We’re not too far from Upton now.”
“Hey,” she took one hand from the suitcase and laid it on my forearm. I had a gut feeling she wasn’t going to let the subject drop about my family. I gripped the steering wheel harder, and the muscles in my forearm shifted. But her touch was delicate, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. “You’ve lost people. I get it. Really, I do. I’ve lost people, too. I know it hurts and it's hard to put your machismo aside and...”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Show weakness, and pretty soon you’ll end up in a ditch.”
“But that was before.”
“Before what?”
She squeezed my arm. “Before… us.”
I smirked and tried to shrug her hand away, but she squeezed harder.
“I’m serious, Liam.”
“Before us, I had six million dollars, and I was respected and feared for my position with the Bianchi family. Now? I have fucking nothing.”
“Don’t worry,” Tess said. “You’re still respected and feared. And we’re going to get your money back. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I didn’t reply to that, but I could appreciate her optimism. I just kept my eyes on the moonlit road and my foot on the pedal. We whirred past a truck stop with a large neon sign outside that read: Burgers all day and night! Best burgers you’ll ever taste! Give yourself a rest and a great meal too!
I finally responded to her attempt to make me feel better. “You didn’t upset me, sweet thing. It’s just something I don’t want to talk about.”
“I understand,” she said, softly. “One of these days you should teach me how to use a gun.”
“Oh, really?” I smiled at the thought of my woman firing off a few shots with my pistol. Now this was my type of conversation. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“Yeah,” she beamed. “Only if you teach me.”
“Of course,” I winked at her.
“Liam?” I loved the sound of my name on her lips.
“Yes?”
“I had an amazing time with you earlier too.”
I was dumbfounded, and I didn’t know how to respond. I never kept women around long enough to have a deep discussion about how we felt after a night of passion. It was “fuck ‘em and duck ‘em” and that was my motto. If I was a dirty bastard, I might have told her that it was the worst sex that I’d ever had and that I hadn’t enjoyed it at all just to see her squirm. But she was mine now, and I didn’t want to hurt her. Plus, I would be lying to myself if I wasn’t just a little overjoyed to hear that she enjoyed herself too.
Is that growth, brother? Is that what that is? Get out of my head, Kevin, I thought.
We sat in silence and moments later she said, “I’m scared about what’s going to happen next. I just thought that I’d let you know.”
“Don’t be. Do what I do. Just turn off that part of your mind like a switch. Then you’re not scared anymore.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“I bet if you had done the things that I have done it would be easy for you, too.”
“I think if I had done what you had done I would go loony.”
I smirked, smiling like a ghoul in the darkness.
“It does take a certain brand of crazy to be in my line work.”
“The first step to healing is admitting that you have a problem.”
We shared a laugh.
“You know, Tess. I’m the craziest man you’ll ever meet.”
“My only lifeline is a crazed hitman. Woo hoo!”
She nudged me in the shoulder. I saw the reflection of her playful grin in the rear-view mirror. I laughed even louder and turned to look at her.
“Sexy, smart, brave and funny. You’re my kind of woman.”
She bit her lip, and that shit distracted me so I returned my focus to the road. We could end up six feet under soon, buried deep underground with maggots and worms and yet this woman could easily make me smile. Maybe she could even make me happy? I felt something warm in my chest, and I hadn’t felt like that since Kevin was alive. It struck me so violently that I might’ve swerved the car off of the road if I hadn’t been gripping the wheel hard enough to turn my knuckles white.
But I couldn’t afford to let myself feel this, whatever it was. I had to box it up, had to isolate it and extract it. I buried it deep, pushed it from my chest, and wrapped it up in chains. Whatever it was it was contained now, shackled and imprisoned deep within my soul. This instant, unexplainable attraction between us may very well be the death of the both of us. It’s love, brother. Not attraction, but love. Not now, Kevin. I thought. I didn’t need this shit right now.
My smile vanished, my lips becoming a flat line as I absorbed the impact of Kevin’s words.
“Is something wrong?”
“A lot of things are wrong.”
“I know,” she slumped her shoulders. “I tried to forget who’s after us. You know, try to keep the spirits high.”
“No need to think about them when I’m here. I keep my word. Okay?”
Tess nodded her head.
“Just let me figure this shit out.” I deeply sighed.
She went to say something; she opened her mouth, but after a moment she closed it. That was fine by me. She might say something that warmed my chest again, and if my chest got too warm it might melt that icy heart of mine, and who knew what shit would spill out if that happened? I had to keep my shit on ice so that I could keep everything under control. I was a professional hitman, not a pussy who might be falling in love. Was it even love? I thought to myself and quickly shook my head to get ahold of myself. I had to remain focused.
We cruised in silence until we reached the town of Upton, a small town of around two thousand people. It was an All-American city where everyone knows everyone, throwing barbecues on the Fourth of July and attending church on Sunday were the norm. In Upton, homes with white picket fences lined the streets and family values reigned supreme. It was the sort of place that took itself way too seriously. The Town Council had a large town hall which looked like it was inspired by Roman architecture; the large, white pillars supported a triangular roof, grand steps led to the entrance, and big double doors opened onto a large entranceway.
We drove through Main Street, past the convenience stores, butchers, florists and other small businesses that were was closed for the night. The Weathered Spoon Café, with its signature a carved spoon hanging over the entrance was the only place open. White lights highlighted the five or so patrons, all sitting on stools at the bar drinking coffee.
We made our way past Main Street and toward rows of houses that were brightly lit from the streetlamps. Most of the houses were four or five bedrooms, encircled in fences with exquisite landscaping in the front yard. The sidewalks were marked with the names of the children from the neighborhood in chalk, the writing loopy and clumsy.
“Wow. Everything looks so… perfect,” Tess poked her head out the window. “This is where you grew up?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
I drove slowly through the streets. It was only nine o’clock and the engine hummed quietly as we glided past mailbox after mailbox until we came to a four-bedroom house at the end of the street.
The windows were boarded up with cardboard. Somebody had written, ‘We don’t want that drunk bastard in our neighborhood!’ on a piece of cardboard in black marker. Even from the driveway, I could see that the front door was coated in cobwebs, the silky strands almost shining in the moonlight. The house had a garage, but the door had been smashed in a long time ago, a large dent scraping away the blue paint. It no longer opened electronically and I didn’t want to leave the car out here for all to see.
We got out, and Tess walked around eyeing the change of scenery.
“Who’s the ‘bastard’ on the cardboard?”
“My father,” I said as I folded my arms and looked at the garage door. The problem was the mechanism. It was supposed to mo
ve the door up and down, but it wasn’t capable of controlling the damaged door. If I had tried to activate it, it would have screeched, whined and then jammed.
Tess looked at it doubtfully. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to move that, Liam.”
“You wanna bet?”
“Look at me,” she waved a hand over herself like she was casting a spell. “What do I have to bet?”
“You’ve got these.” I leaned across and rubbed my thumb along her lips, pressing into them and kissing her softly. I felt her breath get faster: warm puffs on my thumb. She crossed one leg over the other, stood on her tiptoes and moaned softly.
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe,” I replied, biting my lip.
“Not funny,” she smiled after a moment, batting my hand away. “Let’s get this over with, please.”
“What are you in a rush for?” I pulled her body close to mine.
“Oh, my God, Liam. We have to focus!”
Tess giggled and blushed from ear-to-ear and looked down at the ground. I knew, just by looking at her, that if I took her right then, right now, she would love it. Her body seemed poised, like a ballerina’s, ready for action. She didn’t lean away from me; instead, she tilted her body toward me like she was waiting for me to make a move. And I would. I wouldn’t pass up the chance to be with her for anything. But first, we had to get this damned car off the street.
“Okay, I’m going to try and force this,” I said, pointing at the sliding mechanism.
“What can I do to help?”
“You can get into the garage and tie the door to the hook on the wall. There’s a rope at the top of the door. I put it there a couple of years back, along with the hook. I’ll force open the door, and when I say so, you drive in. Simple.”
The garage was small and cramped. The walls were covered in cobwebs, almost like a patterned wallpaper over the gray brick walls. There were no pictures, memories, or sentimental items. Just unmarked cupboard boxes stacked on top of each other all the way to the ceiling. I knew what they were filled with, every single one of them… empty envelopes. My father had had a strange fixation with collecting them along with empty liquor bottles. Once, when I was very young, I’d woken up to him banging on my bedroom door.
“Liam! Go to the twenty-four-hour convenience store, now!” He yelled in a drunken stupor. I stumbled out my room, sweat coating my face and prepared myself for his wrath.
“I'm tired, dad. I don't feel like walking to the corner store."
"You ain't paying no bills around here. You better get your ass down to that store and get me another bottle or else!" He took a step towards me, ready to hit me at any moment. I had no choice but to listen to my father and stand outside of the convenience store offering people money to buy whiskey.
Even by that age, I knew my father was not all there in the head. He’d often spend the day in bed, knees were drawn to his chest, soaking the bed sheets in sweat. And if I happened to walk in and see him, or ask if he was okay, then he’d get out of bed, get the belt, and beat me for disturbing him.
“Liam!” Tess called sharply.
“What?” I said, focusing on the present, pushing my father’s image from my mind.
“Are you ready to get this car in the garage?”
“Yeah. Here I come…”
“Liam! Is that you? Liam Hunter! You came back to Upton!”
My instincts flared into life. I knelt on the ground and went to grab my pistol from inside my jacket. I peered into the darkness and saw the house next door was lit up and the porch light illuming the garden. I saw someone creeping towards us, and I squinted into the light.
“Who’s there!”
“It’s Miss Jones! It’s me, Liam!”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, taking my hand off my pistol.
“Yes, It’s me, Miss Jones,” I said. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“Anything for you, Liam!” the woman shouted. I couldn’t see her, just the silhouette of a woman framed in the porch light. “What is it, dear?”
“Can I use your garage?”
Chapter Eighteen
“All the girls loved Liam, you know,” Miss Jones said, stroking her black cat. Her cat sat on her lap and purred every time she rubbed it behind the ears.
Leslie Jones must’ve been almost fifty now, but she looked younger. She was a strict vegan and had a free-spirited, bohemian vibe to her. She was a beautiful woman with a thin frame and wore a long, brown flowing dress. Her hair was braided and draped down her back and almost to the floor. Her features were smooth and flawless, except around the eyes and around the corners of her mouth, which creased when she smiled or grimaced. I remember the kids in the neighborhood would refer to her as the pretty hippie lady. It must have been over ten years since I’d last seen Miss Jones and I have to admit that it was nice seeing her again.
The three of us were sitting in her dining room, and drinking coffee. Somehow, after the Mustang was safely stowed away, Tess and Miss Jones had started talking, and they hadn’t stopped. Miss Jones had never been married. From what I remember she dedicated her life to volunteering. On her walls were pictures from Africa and India, with her surrounded by children who were orphans, smiling and grabbing onto her long hair.
“Really?” Tess said, sipping her coffee. “I find that hard to believe, Miss Jones. Liam’s cute and all but he’s sort of a brawny-looking man…”
“Brawny?” Miss Jones giggled. “I think he grew up mighty handsome if you ask me.” The black cat meowed, clearly agreeing with Miss. Jones. “He has been muscular since he was a child. That comes from all those years of fighting at the neighborhood boxing club, right Liam?”
I nodded and smiled thinly.
“I remember when Liam was eight, and a twelve-year-old girl was after him. Her name was Simone, I think. She had a major crush on him because he was the tallest out of all of the children. Oh, Liam, do you remember what you did?”
“No, Miss Jones,” I shook my head. The past was best left buried, as far as I was concerned.
“Well, I do!” Miss Jones giggled. “You made her a ring out of a daisy, and he gave it to her. You should have seen the little girl’s face! Simone ran around the neighborhood singing that Liam Hunter was going to be her husband! Of course, it was a scandal. You see, in towns like these, we found scandals where we could. She was much too old for him, and the engagement had to be called off.”
Tess looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. There was a light in her eyes that made me uncomfortable. It was like she was trying to see into me. Don’t look, I wanted to tell her. Don’t look. You wouldn't find anything but darkness if you knew the real truth about me. I glanced down at my callused hands, and I knew that if I tried to make a ring out of a daisy ring now, I’d fail.
“Wow,” Tess said. “That is a surprise.”
Miss Jones nodded and sipped her coffee.
“He was the sweetest boy you would ever meet. He always had a smile on his face. He wore a baseball cap pulled down low, but if he walked by a lady, he would tip it up, like a real little gentleman! ‘How is it going, Miss Jones?’ he would say. ‘Do you need help carrying your groceries, Miss Jones?’ ‘I hope you’re having a nice day, Miss Jones.’”
“You were a gentleman!” Tess looked amazed like she was sure that Miss Jones was talking about a different person. Then she laughed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, Liam, you never told me you were a gentleman.”
“Oh, he was,” Miss Jones said. “I could tell you hundreds of stories about little Liam Hunter…”
“Maybe another time, Miss Jones. Thank you for the coffee.” I nodded and went to stand up. “Tess, we better get going before the Russians, I mean…”
Suddenly, Miss Jones’s amused face gradually transformed into one of terror. Her eyebrows shot up, and her brown eyes became wide.
“Shit,” I murmured to myself.
“Liam, wait,” Miss Jones beg
ged.
She pushed the black cat from her lap. It whined and landed in a crouch. Then it trotted to the corner of the room and sprawled out underneath a photograph of Miss Jones and five children outside a mud hut.
“Please don’t leave. Not yet. I—I need to tell you something…” she said, lowering her voice, leaning in.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting back down.
“Some men came by here yesterday, and they were looking for you.”
I leaned up. “Who?”
“I don’t know, Liam.”
“Did you speak to them?”
She nodded. “They knocked on my door. They frightened me.”
“You tell me what they did to you,” I demanded, my chest rising up and down.
Miss Jones held up her arm. The wave-like fabric of her brown dress fell away, exposing a large, dark bruise.
“Fuck!” I gripped the edge of the table so hard my fingernails tore into the wood.
She shifted her dress, covering it. “Liam. Language,” she scolded. “And there’s no need to shout. I’ve had worse, you know. They just grabbed me… It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Russians?” My voice shook with rage.
“Yes. Russians. They were covered in tattoos.” Miss Jones smiled, but it was a weak smile, and even an idiot could see she that was shit-scared.
“I’m so sorry they hurt you, Miss Jones,” Tess comforted her.
“Oh, don’t worry about me!” Miss Jones exclaimed. “I'm all right, they just grabbed me and said, ‘If we find out you’re lying, there will be worse shit coming your way.’ But what can they do to me? I’ve stood up against men with guns before. Yes, I have, and I’ll do it again if I have to.”
“I believe you, Miss Jones,” I said. “But I think you had a good reason when you did it before. Children, poverty or whatever. I’m not a cause worth standing up for.”
Her eyes became soft, and she tilted her head at me. It was a motherly tilt of the head, and I could hardly stand it.
“You were a sweet boy, Liam. I know you’ve chosen a dangerous path, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were a sweet boy. Do you remember the Saturdays?”