by Blou Bryant
“What’s that?” asked Hannah.
Damn it, he thought and punched her in the thigh.
“Ouch, what the hell?”
“That’s for not supporting me. We’re going back to the house to drop you off,” he said.
He grabbed her hand, and squeezed tight, leaving the note behind. “Please, Hannah. Just go back to them and wait. Trust me.”
Hannah rubbed her thigh, stared at the paper and then at him, the wheels turning. Eventually, she folded it up and put it in her pocket. “You’ll pay for this,” she said, and he believed her. If this all worked out, he would be in a lot of doghouses. Ah well, he thought, if it didn’t work out, I’ll have worse things to worry about.
Wyatt checked Timo and confirmed his eyes were on the road ahead. He signed what he hoped was, “Trust me, please. Please!”
Hannah raised an eyebrow and appeared to consider whatever he’d signed, holding his gaze. A long moment passed and she relented, signing back, “Yes.”
They arrived fifteen minutes later. Hannah left without a word or even a look in his direction. Once she disappeared into the house, he got out of the car and climbed into the front next to Timo. It was still early, he noted with a glance at the front console. This time he tapped on the navigation console himself and set their destination as Jessica’s tower.
“What about the twins?”
“We’re scouting, we’ll get them soon,” Wyatt said. They had a little less than thirty-seven minutes to kill. “I want to see the entrance; check what sort of security they have.”
“Can I go to the washroom first?” asked Timo, leaving the car in park.
“Go on, but no talking to the Dogs. They’re going their way, and we’re going ours.”
There were still people milling around outside, their very presence protection for the Dogs and more importantly for them, for Marylyn. The barbecue was done, Wyatt noticed with regret. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. After a couple minutes passed, he got out and took a bag of Better Made chips—salt and vinegar, of course, those things had serious flavor—off of a picnic table.
Wyatt almost returned to the car with just the bag, but in the middle of the table was a sugar cream pie. He looked around, there were two teenage boys standing off to the side, vaping. “Hey, the pie…” he said.
One shrugged. The other waved at it, “You with Marylyn?”
“Sorta,” Wyatt replied. “She saved my life.”
“Know what you mean, my bro too,” the first one said. “Take a piece.”
Wyatt looked around the neighboring tables. There were no plates. The house was only steps away, but he couldn’t go in there and ask for one. Well, he could, but that’d be weird. Hi, sorry for yelling at you all and telling you to go to hell, but, um, could I get a plate for some pie?
The second boy saw him look around, walked over, picked up the pie plate and handed it to him. There was half left. He picked up a plastic fork and set it on top and said, “Enjoy. Ma made it, more where it came from.”
Wyatt was back in the car, eating pie when Timo returned. “I got an extra fork, dig in,” he said, placing the pie on the armrest between them. He reached over and took two of the chips and shoved them into his mouth. Sugar, cream, butter, salt, potato, vinegar, all mixed together. “If this is my last meal…” Wyatt said, appreciatively.
Timo dug in as well and laughed. “Best last meal ever!” He turned on the radio, found a pop-music station and the two of them enjoyed the rest of the food without any words between them. It was all so completely normal.
Once done, the bag empty and the plate cleaned, Wyatt put the first in a garbage can and the second in a bin that held all the dirty dishes. “Thanks,” he yelled to the boys.
Just before he turned back, he glanced at the house and saw Marylyn staring at him through the window. With a tap on the pie plate and then his heart, he mouthed, “Thanks.” She understood, nodded and mouthed something in return. It looked like good luck. With a nod he returned to the car. “I hope to see you again,” he whispered and prepared for his final moves.
Chapter 28
Once they were back in the car, Wyatt checked his phone. There were thirty minutes left. “Let’s check her out.” Jessica, he meant, “And then off to get the twins.” He tapped in the address for her building.
As they drove, Wyatt worked to calm his rising anxiety. With his eyes closed he tried to visualize success. After a few seconds, he gave up. That crap never worked for him. Instead, eyes still closed, he used an exercise his track coach had taught him. He drew each breath in deliberately and held it for precisely one second. Then he fully released all the air, forcing it from the bottom of his lungs. After three cycles, he could feel his heart rate slow in unison. That helped. Calmer, he opened his eyes.
As they passed through downtown, he counted out the windows on various buildings. Counting, like conscious breathing, always helped. A large brownstone approached that filled a block, three stories tall, sixteen windows across, that was forty-eight windows, minus six on the first floor in the middle, forty-two. As they turned the corner, he counted another eight, so if the other two sides matched, there’d be one hundred thirty-eight, no, one hundred thirty-two, assuming the front was different than the back.
Wyatt wondered how many apartments there were and how many windows each person got. There were likely three rooms per apartment, based on the window sizes and location of air-conditioners. Bathroom, living room and bedroom. Probably other rooms without a view. Realizing he was falling down his own rabbit hole, he cursed his crazy mind, snapped out of it, stopped counting and let out a long breath.
Still unsettled, he resisted the urge to check his phone for the time and guessed that there were eighteen minutes left. He might be off by a minute. This made him want to check even more and, despite himself, he glanced at the car display. Yup, dead on. Eighteen minutes. Now he had an urge to guess when it would turn to seventeen minutes. That’d be ten-thirteen on the clock. Damnit, he thought, I’m going to go crazy, let’s get this over with.
“We’re here,” said Timo, slowing the car.
“Don’t stop, drive past.”
Timo slowed to a crawl, the blinker on, and pulled to the curb. Wyatt saw six men in black suits hanging out around the entrance in pairs of two. She was well protected and appeared prepared for them.
“Timo, get going,” Wyatt said, but instead the other man slowed the car and stopped. Wyatt put his hand on the stick to prevent Timo from putting it in park. With his other hand, he reached over, clicked ‘automatic’ and said, “Next destination, Hand Up Center.” The car pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic.
With a regretful glance back, Timo apologized, “Hey, I wanted to look, too. So, we’ll be back soon, right?”
“We’ll be here at eleven-thirty, dead on the nose,” said Wyatt, breathing deep. That’d been dumb. He’d wanted a drive by, to see where she lived. It wasn’t right that she would live out the night, that she’d remain free. His plan, the one he’d shared with everyone, was a lie, a necessary one. Still, a part of him wished that it wasn’t. “Relax, it’ll be over soon,” he said.
Twenty-three after the hour. He knew time, but didn’t know distances in the city. “How long to our destination?” he asked, and the car responded with eight minutes. Damn, they were going to be late. “Take it off automatic, speed a little,” he said. “Not enough to get stopped.”
“Why the Hands Up Center?” asked Timo, taking control of the car and pressing on the gas.
“We’re picking up the girls.”
“You said you sent them there to settle scores?”
“That’s right, I’m not going to leave unfinished business behind. We’ll be on the run even worse after tonight,” Wyatt replied and lapsed back into silence. Would it work? he wondered. Would they be there, ready? Had the twins succeeded? Had they failed? Worse, what if they’d been captured and Jessica or her thugs were waiting for him?
“Your destination is approaching,” the car warned.
As they rounded the last corner, Wyatt glanced at the house he’d hid beside. The two men, amazingly enough, were still out front on the porch, beers in hand. He waved, they waved back, and he turned his attention to the HUC. It was two houses ahead of them, and the lawn was filled with people. “Pull up out front,” Wyatt said.
As the car stopped, he scanned for the twins. He didn’t see them but Shazam was there, surrounded by partiers, with a drink in his hand. A lot of people had drinks. Joshua’s rules were no longer in force. Loud music played, and the house was still open at ten-thirty. This wasn’t what he’d planned for, he’d figured nobody would be there at this time of night. He’d expected it would only be a couple people.
Wyatt got out and walked forward anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound. As he approached, Shazam noticed him and his mouth dropped open. He recovered quickly and tapped a big man standing next to him, Wyatt didn’t remember the man’s name, but he was one of the guards. The guy tapped another man next to him in turn. Wyatt recognized Randy. He also recognized the gun that Randy pulled and pointed at him. This stopped him in his tracks.
Shazam rolled up, a big, slimy smile on his face. “Wyatt, I’m surprised,” he said and looked to his left and right to make sure his bruisers were with him. A group of others joined them. Wyatt recognized two from the beating the girls had administered a couple days earlier.
Wyatt hesitated, not seeing the twins. While Trix was there, she was farther back. “Some rule changes?”
Shazam grinned broadly. “New management, you know how it is. We’re running a business and people want entertainment.”
“Uh-huh, so drugs, drink, and parties?”
Shazam didn’t blink, “That’s right. We’re a money-making enterprise now. We still got food, but the rooms are rented and we don’t bother with the counselling. That’s for suckers.”
“I suppose that helping people is for suckers too?”
“Funny you should say that. You’re not big on the helping people thing, are you?”
Timo had stepped away from Wyatt and hissed, “What now? Guys have guns, they won’t shoot me, right?”
Wyatt didn’t think the message was for him, so he ignored it. To Shazam, he said, “What do you mean?”
“All you had to do was touch me, give me a bit of that special juice I’ve heard about. But no, you don’t share. Well, tables are reversed now. You need me.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, someone’s looking for you. He’ll pay good money and I’ll happily sell you to him. But perhaps you can help me and I’ll help you. How’s that sound?” asked Shazam, rolling forward until he was only a couple feet from Wyatt. When he realized that he was alone, he waved to Randy and the other guy to join him. “Get up here, what the hell do I pay you idiots for?”
Timo whispered, “What do you want me to do?” Wyatt glanced over and saw he was talking into his watch.
“So, if I heal you, you’ll let me go?” Wyatt asked. There was no chance he’d heal this piece of crap.
“That’s the deal,” said Shazam.
Wyatt gave a nod and looked around. Trix was strutting through the crowd, her gang behind, but they didn’t move quickly enough for him. With a quick glance at the group and up and down the street, he noted that the twins weren’t there, nor was Vincent. His stomach turned over as he responded to the stress, blood rushing to his face.
Wyatt rolled his shoulders and bounced on his feet. It was time to get the blood flowing, the body ready for movement. He wanted to believe he’d escaped worse, but he hadn’t. He doubted he’d make it as far as his drinking buddies before a bullet took him down.
Okay, he thought, let’s play this out. “Fine, I’ll fix you. But how do I know you’ll set me free?”
“My word isn’t good enough for you?”
“I’d ask Joshua, but I don’t think he’s available, is he?”
“Ah, you know about that? That’s where the girls went, back to you, told you about it?”
Wyatt relaxed at that, the twins hadn’t been captured by this guy at least. Where were they then, he wondered. “They told me what you did.”
Shazam shrugged, unconcerned. “Forget him, he’s yesterday’s news.” He rolled back a foot, ensuring that his guards were in front of him. “So, how about it, you give me one little touch and heal me?”
Trix arrived, flanked by several of her men, in addition to Dally, the gang leader she’d beat up days before. “Shaz, looking for someone to touch you? Dirty little boy,” she said.
“I didn’t tell you to come up here. I don’t pay you to make decisions,” he responded, turning in his chair. He pulled out a baton and flicked it so it extended to its full length. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said.
“You work for him?” Wyatt asked, despondent. Time to run, he thought.
“He put me and the boys on the payroll when he took over,” she replied. “But I’m easy and a bit of a free spirit. Did you mean what you said?”
Wyatt hesitated. Had the twins reached her after all? “What I said?”
“You made promises.” She pulled the note he’d given the twins out of her pocket and waved it at him. “Can you keep them, or are you just like all other men?”
“Well,” he said.
Trix pulled her bag of cereal treats out of her pocket, picked two red ones out, popped them in her mouth, and waited for an answer.
“Um, sorta?” he said and hesitated again as her men spread out. “Yes,” he said, without confidence.
“And the money?”
Shazam interrupted, “What the hell are you two talking about? I’m in charge here.”
They ignored him. This time, Wyatt answered confidently, “Yes, we’re good for the money, as promised.” Seymour had said yes to the request; he’d fund the center.
“Good, that’s better. If I do this, I get to do it my way. We don’t need you moralizing. Can you handle not moralizing?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said and meant it. This was a strange time to be negotiating. Far up the street, he saw two cars approaching. One might be a police car. “Police coming,” he said.
“You called them?”
“Yup, they’re here for Shazam, they heard that he killed Joshua.”
She didn’t look fazed by that at all, “Let’s settle up quick. The toilet paper note—classy, by the way—wasn’t as clear as I’d like. If some of the guys deal occasionally, nothing bad, nothing to kids… that’s our issue, not yours.”
“Okay?”
“We’ll help people out, but our way, not yours and not Joshua’s. And if we don’t always give the city or the police information they want that’s our business.”
“I don’t care. Don’t hurt people. Do good, don’t do bad. It’s yours,” he said frantically.
“Dally, that works for you?” she asked.
The scruffy, dirty man nodded. “Got a deal, big girl.”
“Fine. One last condition,” she said to Wyatt. “I want a date.”
“What?”
“We’re going on a date, you’re going to take me out and treat me like a lady. Unless I don’t want to be treated like a lady, in which case you’ll treat me however I like.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said and glanced back up the street. The cars didn’t have lights or sirens on, but one was unmistakably police.
Shazam had turned a deep purple, “What in the name...” he said.
Trix turned and put a finger to her lips. “Shh, the adults are talking.”
“Shoot her, take her out, you stupid dumb…” Shazam yelled and slapped his baton against Randy’s leg… to absolutely no effect.
Both guards still had their guns on Wyatt although neither had looked at him in a while. Like the forty or more people around them, they’d followed the conversation. Neither appeared interested in a fight.
Dally put his hand out, flat, and motione
d to the two bruisers, “Let’s keep this easy, how about?”
Brad lowered his weapon and Randy followed suit.
Trix smiled at them, “Good.” To Wyatt, she offered her hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Wyatt shook it and nodded.
“Great, nice doin business with you.” She turned to the group behind her. “Shazam had his day. Well, he had two or three, but that’s the end of that. This is my HUC now.”
To Wyatt’s surprise, Dally stepped forward and two of his men pointed weapons at Shazam. To Brad and Randy, he said, “Don’t worry boys, you’ll be fine. You’re hired hands, like the rest of us.” The two men looked at each other and shrugged.
“Him?” asked Wyatt.
“And more,” Trix said. She offered him her bag of treats and he shook his head, he wasn’t in the mood for food, not even candy.
The police car pulled up to the other curb behind Wyatt’s car and three officers got out but didn’t approach the crowd. The second car, a long Chrysler Intrepid, stopped as well. Vincent stepped out and walked up to Wyatt.
Before he arrived, Trix whispered, “Guns away, everyone.”
Vincent looked mellow for a man confronting a mob. Perhaps it was the beer. “Wyatt,” he said.
With great relief, Wyatt said, “Thanks for coming.”
“You’re a persistent piece of shit, I figured you’d not leave me alone if I didn’t. Your note said I’d have proof of a murder, drug dealing, conspiracy. Tell me you didn’t make me waste a beer.”
“Not at all, we have witnesses and proof.”
“Where? All I see is an illegal street party.” As several party goers backed away, he added, “which isn’t something I’d deal with.” With a leer at one girl he said, “Hell, I might join you.”
Wyatt pointed at Shazam, then at Brad and Randy, “Joshua Rankin was killed in the centre. They know about it, and your partner was there when he died. She can help you,” he said, pointing to the new director.
Trix grinned.
Vincent looked her up and down. “And you are?”