Lay Saints

by Adam Connell

  “Wow,” said Green.

  The student got up faster than his body wanted but slower than his ego needed. He apologized to the trainer.

  “No need, I apologized for you,” the trainer said.

  After that the student was much more accurate.

  Rook and his partner nodded at each other, tapped gloves, danced backwards to their corners. Rook spat into a funnel that fed an empty bucket of Sheetrock joint compound.

  Then, back towards the middle. His sparring partner, frustrated, drove a brazen final attack. A blinding barrage of combinations and reaches. Rook evaded them all except one, a crushing blow to the gut Calder thought Rook allowed to pass on purpose. After that, Rook screwed his feet to the floor and knocked the poor sod back two steps with a hard right to the ribs.

  They stood breathing heavily, staring at each other. Everyone was staring at them, wondering if they’d go another round. Breathing more calmly, they met in the middle again, this time to share a brief hug and a pat on the other’s back. Rook held up the ropes so his partner could climb down, then climbed out after.

  They went towards the showers. Calder gave Rook five minutes. He figured the man must stink.

  Red and Green went to jump rope in front of the mirror by the punching bags.

  Calder counted up to 300, went into the men’s locker room.

  This space was even tighter, and a mess. Lockers floor to ceiling in a space the size of a tenement closet. One flecked bench crammed in as well.

  The showers — past a doorless doorway half the width of a human being — they looked as if they’d been stolen from a high school. An open white box with nozzles, drains, and no curtains. It faced toilet stalls, also doorless. So you could shower and watch other men doing their business, and they could watch you. Offensive.

  Rook was standing naked, talking to another man, not the one he’d just fought. Calder waited for Rook to towel himself dry and put on some underwear. How three people could fit in that locker room, it defied science.

  “Tomorrow, and get some sleep for it,” the other man said to Rook.

  Rook nodded at him. “Two o’clock.” He faced Calder. “Forgotten all about you. How’ve you been getting along? Look like crap.” He started dressing.

  Calder sat on the bench. He was beginning to hate benches. “Been a long afternoon.”

  Rook paused putting his shirt on. “You doing all right?”

  Calder wanted to complain about the city, the twins, but decided against it. “Takes a lot of energy but I’m learning my way.”

  Barely, am I right, Fish?

  Rook got his arms and head through his shirt, pulled it down. “You could say that about anything. That’s no answer. ‘Learning my way.’ ”

  Calder sat up straighter. “Truth is, I’m having some trouble on this job.”

  “And your first. Sotto won’t want to hear that.”

  “It’s a complicated bit of machinery.”

  “That’s why, the trouble you’re having.” Rook had his underwear and pants on, his sneakers in his fingers. He has short, balding grey hair he cuts himself, and it looks it. “That’s why,” he said, closing the locker door, “why I don’t take the big ones anymore. Go small, that’s how I’ve gotten by the last ten years. You wanna box or are you here for something?”

  “I was hoping to ease into it, but I see you’re not gonna let me. I could use your help on this.”

  “On this job.”

  Calder was looking at Rook’s feet, apprehensive about seeing a reaction on the man’s face. “I don’t think it’ll take us long. Hell, there’s not much time left. Ten days till they vote. I can’t do it alone, what I got planned to do.”

  “Your first job in the city,” Rook said, “and immediately you need a crutch. I’m not so sure there’s a future for you here. Are you? Are you sure?”

  “I said it was big. Too big for someone new to the city,” Calder said.

  “Anywhere else and you’d have bagged this gig already.”

  “I might, I mean, what’s the fucking tense, I would’ve. Anywhere else.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” Rook said. “I like believing people. It shows a good nature. Problem with believing people is they lie, or they have an inflated idea of their gifts. But let’s start out, me wanting to believe you.”

  He sat facing Calder on the bench.

  Calder told him about Adelard.

  “If he’s a Stone you’re in a good goddam jam. Don’t see much way around it.”

  “There is,” Calder said. “I need someone knows this city, can help me get places fast. Knows where things are.”

  “Like this gym,” Rook said, “which you couldn’t find without asking around and taking a cab. And because time’s a-runnin’.”

  “And I might need you, a second guy for bluffing,” Calder said.

  Rook got to his feet. “I have to tell you, and it doesn’t pain me, No.”

  For a moment Calder considered going in and changing Rook’s mind but he was too spent to sound the man and see how strong he was. He was certain Rook was more powerful than his reputation. And he did want Rook to help of his own accord.

  Rook had his sneakers on and was turning away when Calder said, “Those two men, fought you at the club, they’re in this. I’m not lying. One of them’s named Lundin. The black one, real black. Other one, Briggs, dresses like a priest.”

  Rook rested a forearm on the lockers. He was still facing away from Calder. “They’re in this how?”

  “Interrogated me when I was at the club last night.”

  “Why were you there? Doing what?”

  “One of the few places I know in this town. They were asking me all about the Int, the job, Adelard. The two’re involved, I think they’ve been to Adelard’s house.”

  “Then Faraday’s involved, and that cunt Kinkaid.”

  Calder clutched the bench as Rook turned around. “Do you want to help now?”

  “I’m more inclined to,” Rook said.

  “I’ll split you half my percentage.”

  “Well that’s a given, son. I also need something else to get me interested. Money’s not much to me.”

  “You wanna come up with it later so we can get started?”

  “No, I wanna come up with it now.”

  “If not money, then what?” Calder said.

  “What else is there?”

  “A woman?” Calder said. “You want me to get you laid?”

  Rook laughed. “I need you to get me laid. A woman, though, that’s a good springboard. And you mentioned Tattletail.”

  Red and Green came in to use the showers. They hailed Rook but ignored Calder.

  “What I want,” Rook said, “it needs difficulty. Otherwise I won’t — ”

  “Be interested, I got that.”

  “Okay.” Rook glanced at the floor. “Fine. The Winged Lady. I want to see her dance.”

  “I’ll take you to the club when this is over. I’ll pay.”

  “For me, have her give me a private dance alone the two of us. No touching with hands, but a good lap dance.”

  “Does she do that?”

  “Never once that I’ve heard,” Rook said. “I want that dance. I don’t mean sex, no kisses, just a dance. Am I in or out?”

  “She’ll dance for you,” Calder said, because there was nothing else to say.

  back to top

  TWENTY-TWO

  Saturday, early None

  Piker returned to the bar during late lunch. All the stools were taken. The booths were crowded except for the last one, his brother sitting by himself.

  Piker slid in without saying Hi.

  “And how’d it went?” Attila said.

  “Your grammar. It was quick, very fast. Not bags of money, either. Hardly worth the afternoon. Yours?”

  “Sounds like better money, but also fast. We have to start making some rain before we’re knee-deep in debt.”

  “Should be Sotto’s area,” Piker
said.

  “Should be,” Attila said.

  “I can’t be drumming up business and polishing off jobs simultaneously.”

  Attila put his feet up on the booth’s opposite cushions, next to Piker.

  Piker scratched himself, you know where. It was a habit Attila didn’t have, and he found it disgusting. Like Piker also chewing with his mouth open. Revolting. Attila wondered how it was they were raised together, foster homes or not. And he ate with the fork in his wrong hand, the left hand, Piker. Like being at a table with a barbarian.

  Piker hated the way Attila put his feet up on any soft furniture, anywhere he was.

  “Not enough people know about us is the problem,” Piker said and shoved Attila’s feet to the floor.

  “Too many’s no good,” Attila said.

  “Wrong,” Piker said. “Too many’s not enough. This’s a talk we’ll have after Sotto sees his experiment fizzle.”

  “Squeezed Calder pretty nicely before. I’d have squeezed harder.”

  “If we want him with us,” Piker said, “we don’t want him a cripple.”

  “I disagree,” Attila said. “Cripples are grateful people.”

  “Sotto should know what you’re really like.”

  “He fucking knows,” Attila said. “I’m tired pretending he doesn’t. Jobs are easier when someone gets hurt.”

  “Mom would be proud,” Piker said with a smirk.

  “Which Mom?” Attila said.

  “The last one,” Piker said. “The nice one.”

  “She was not.”

  “Is,” Piker said. “I spoke to her yesterday, she wasn’t bringing your name up. She called me. Calder, there was grit there.”

  “Gritting teeth, more like,” Attila said. He shook his head. “Nothing compared to the both of us, little brother.”

  “Two and a half minutes.”

  “Nothing compared to either of us, alone or a team,” Attila said. “Found my first grey pubic hair this morning. You ever?”

  “I’ve got three. Don’t pluck ’em, you know what they say.”

  “I’ve no fucking idea what they say. That I’m getting old? Too late anyway, I flushed it.”

  “There’s gonna be more,” Piker said.

  “Of course there’s gonna be more, I just don’t like them down there.”

  The front door swung open, setting off the brass bell. It was Kinkaid wearing a huge smile. “Hello all you drunks, Kinkaid is back,” he boomed. He received a few startled waves, clapped some unfamiliar shoulders on his way to the last booth.

  “Slide down,” he told Piker, “make room for an old friend.” He sat next to Piker, lowered his voice to a more courteous level. He put his forearms on the scarred table. Totally at ease. “So here I am.”

  “And why is that?” Attila said.

  “It’s been over two years,” Kinkaid said, “you never asked after me once.”

  “We never asked cause we don’t care,” Piker said.

  “That’s a shiny bald lie.”

  Attila said, “Why do you, did you — I can smell it on you — smell like seafood.”

  “Must be my shellfish cologne,” Kinkaid said. “The fuck you talking about? Seafood.”

  “You do,” Piker said. “How’s living Uptown?”

  “Better class of people.” He looked around the bar for emphasis. “More supermarkets. More families. Nicer streets, less gum on them. Good stores. Good private schools. It’s like the suburbs but with taller buildings. Real doctors been to universities you’ve heard of.”

  “You sick?” Piker said.

  “No, but if I need them,” Kinkaid said. “Less pretty girls, though, Uptown. I miss the tight tops, the slip dresses. Those flirty covens, way they troll around together.”

  “Faraday’s got a flesh bar,” Attila said. “You’re surrounded by it.”

  “They’re thicker than the girls down here,” Kinkaid said. “Not all that young, and it’s the same ones. Variety is sexy. Cross the street in the Village, never know what kind of face or body you’re gonna see. Anyway, I seen enough skin to last me into the afterlife. Makes me ill, the thought of it, Faraday’s almost ruined me for women.”

  “You like boys now,” Piker said.

  Attila said, “The test is, any thoughts you wanna start up a Boy Scout troop is the test.”

  Kinkaid became of a sudden serious. “I don’t like boys.”

  “Said the defensive homosexual,” Piker said.

  “Girl Scouts?” Attila said. “Thank Heaven,” he sang in Maurice Chevalier’s exaggerated accent, “for little girls.”

  Kinkaid smiled again. “Tag-team insults, nice to see that hasn’t changed.”

  “Only thing changed around here is you’re gone,” Attila said.

  “You could’ve come with me. I gave you that chance.”

  Pal came over and stood at the head of the booth. “Kinkaid, you went and got crinkled parchment paper around the eyes.”

  Kinkaid stared up at him. “Your scar hasn’t filled in any.”

  “You all gonna order?”

  “Chicken sandwich,” Attila said. “No mayo — ”

  “No cheese,” Pal said, “no lettuce, extra onions.”

  “Same,” Piker said.

  “BLT,” Kinkaid said, “and a shot of whatever it is you’re brewing in your cellar these days.”

  “All right,” Pal said and left.

  “You realize you’re gonna have to pay for that sandwich,” Attila said.

  “My money’s no good here.”

  “It is lately,” Attila said.

  “Well, things have changed,” Kinkaid said. “Who’s in my old room?”

  “Nobody,” Piker said. “Sotto did some things, not so very nice.”

  “We all watched,” Attila said.

  “First there was the lighter fluid, and quite a bit of it. Torched the room.”

  “What?” Kinkaid said.

  “Put it out with a fire extinguisher,” Piker said.

  “Lit that shit on fire,” Attila said.

  “Then the bat,” Piker said. “Building’s prewar, it could take it, but he was swinging that thing. Had a bucket of carpenter’s glue, splashed it on the walls. Then about twenty boxes of kosher salt, flung it everywhere. Used all twenty boxes. Left the boxes, the bucket, bat, the matches, empty tins of lighter fluid, left it all in the middle of the room.”

  “And shut the door,” Attila said.

  “Shut the door,” Piker said, “and here’s the part shows he’s really angry. Door’s shut. He uses nails to keep it shut. Around the jamb, and where they stick out, which is maybe halfway, all the nails, he hammers them home sideways.”

  “Looks like it leads to a dungeon,” Attila said. “Has to be 150 nails there.”

  “Unkind,” Kinkaid said. “You two still seeing Nan?”

  “Still,” Piker said.

  “You’ll have to move out to Utah, get married, the three of you. Make a dishonest woman of her. Hear from Montford?”

  “You really care?” Piker said. “She’s working out of Hamburg. She calls me once in awhile.”

  Kinkaid said, “Ich bin ein Hamburgian.”

  “She calls you?” Attila said to Piker. He didn’t say Mom and her?

  “You never slept with Montford,” Kinkaid said to Attila. “About the only one who didn’t.” He looked up at the ceiling as if remembering a delicious meal. “I had her.”

  “Could you be more crass?” Attila said.

  “She’s running with a solid crew,” Piker said. “Wants me to come out there, but I can’t learn German.”

  “She asked you that?” Attila said.

  “I’m terrible with languages,” Piker said. “I wouldn’t have gone without you.”

  “Buncha neo-Nazis anyhow,” Attila said.

  “Says there’s lots of work, that I wouldn’t believe what goes on there.”

  “Who cares about Montford?” Attila said. Turning to Kinkaid, “Sotto’s not here
, you come to see him.”

  “I know he’s not here. I know it’s just the two of you. Who’s the new guy, likes staying up late?”

  Attila said, “Some hayseed.”

  “Kinkaid, what kinda work you get at Faraday’s?” Piker said.

  “Whole batch of corporate gigs. We get plenty suits bringing other suits in, word of mouth. They want this deal, they want that price. Takeovers or be taken over, depending. Unions. We get a lot of that. Scuffling.”

  “And Faraday? What’s he really like?” Attila said.

  “He’s gone soft.”

  “And Sotto’s old,” Piker said.

  “But what’s he like, Kinkaid?”

  “He’s like, he’s, I’d liken him to a stepfather. Never really loves you as his own. You boys know about that. Only things Faraday loves are his dead father — ”

  “He died?” Attila said.

  “He will.”

  “We all will,” Piker said.

  “He will faster. And the Winged Lady. Faraday, he loves her. She I could understand. Those two keep him busy. Plus he’s got the club, plus he’s got me and the rest.”

  “What is he like? You’re not hearing my question,” Attila said.

  “I’m just not answering it. I didn’t come here an FBI profiler, Tilla. Contentious. He’s contentious.”

  “I like contentious,” Attila said. “That’s my favorite trait.”

  “I want Faraday gone,” Kink said.

  “What, dead?” Piker said.

  “He doesn’t have to die.”

  “You’ll always be a traitor,” Piker said.

  “Not after this. After this I’ll be happy. A content man wants for nothing.”

  “Content and sane,” Attila said.

  “It’s been two years,” Piker said. “Why the fucking urgency?”

  Pal brought over their food but no one tucked in. As Pal left Kinkaid said, “Because it’s time is why. Ripe. He’s distracted all day, his father’s hanging from the tip of his grave dug by some weird sickness. Faraday’s growing apart from Emmie. He wants a road trip to go scouting, I hate long fucking drives. Then there’s this new City Council job irritating him.”

  Didn’t even mention my name, Fish!

  Like I wasn’t his impetus!

  His rival!

  Fucker. Asshole.