Like a Boss

by Adam Rakunas

  “Then you can go to Lonxia Cemetery, ’cause that’s where they are now.”

  Soni nodded. “So, they’re meeting there?”

  And then she saw Onanefe’s eyes, the way he tried to keep them open despite the tears welling up. She cleared her throat. “Ah.”

  And then I remembered: the Hanuman, sparkling clean with the cane wreaths on the front grill. Onanefe and his crew, all in white as they rushed into my burning building. “Whose funeral was it?”

  “Does it matter?” he said, his voice breaking.

  “If he was buried at Lonxia, he lived in my neighborhood. I’d like to know the name. Yes.”

  He coughed. “Milt Gorsky was a cutter and a Zen priest. He spent all his down time teaching kids to read. He used to cry whenever he found dead animals after a cane burn. He was the friendliest man you ever met, which is why it shocked me when he proposed the bombing campaign. Even though he planned it to make sure no one would get injured – giving everyone plenty of warning, making sure only to take out the target building – it hurt me to think he’d do that. We were such good friends until he made that proposal. I hadn’t spoken to him since the vote.”

  He snuffled and didn’t look away. “He died last week, alone, in some grubby bedsit in Faoshue. He left a handwritten will that just said he wanted to be at Lonxia because he liked the shade there. He’d spent enough of his time in the sun.”

  I flashed back to Meiumi Greene-with-an-e. She wanted to come into town for Uncle Gorsky’s funeral. “Are they all there? The ones who wanted the bombings?”

  Onanefe nodded. “Milt was the last one of them left.”

  I looked at Soni. “You know about this?”

  She shook her head. “It must not have looked like a suspicious death, or I would’ve gotten a call.”

  “Milt was always in poor health,” said Onanefe. “And considering how nasty his place was, it looked like he hadn’t gotten better. Dirty dishes in the sink, spoiled food in the fridge. That kind of thing.”

  “You were there?” said Soni. “After he died?”

  Onanefe nodded. “I knew his landlady. She called me after the police went in to investigate the smell.” He coughed again and shuddered. “He’d been in there a while. A couple of months, the coroner said.”

  Soni rubbed the top of her head. Her eyes were still hard, but the thin line of her mouth had shifted like a fault line. “Did all of them die like that? Natural causes?”

  Onanefe bit his lip as his head bobbed from side to side. “Susan Broyles had a heart attack. Thanchanok Morrison drowned. Jimmy Nguyen got hit by a tuk-tuk. But he was also really drunk, and considering how much he liked his rum, that’s practically natural causes.”

  “When did this all happen?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. In the past few years. They were in their fifties when we met. Letty and I were the youngest ones on the committee.”

  Soni’s line of questioning clicked in my head. “You said everyone who voted for the bombings died,” I said. “What about the people who voted against them? Are they all still alive?”

  “Hm.” Onanefe rubbed his mustache. “There were seven of us on the Executive Committee. Of the four who voted against, there’s just me, Letty, and Marquise Spadinet. Louellen Prima, she was the chair, and the whole thing broke her heart. She died a few weeks after the vote. Marquise moved to the other side of Santee after the bombings. She didn’t want anything to do with us anymore. Haven’t heard from her in years.”

  “What are you thinking?” said Soni.

  “I’m thinking it would be nice to find a working phone and see if Marquise is still alive.”

  Soni narrowed her eyes. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Because she’s the last FOC member at that vote, excepting Onanefe and Letty.”

  “What, you think she’s behind this?” said Soni.

  “Maybe. I don’t know,” I said, looking at Onanefe. “What was Milt’s proposal? What was his plan?”

  Onanefe took a deep breath. “He was going to pack tuk-tuks with fertilizer bombs. Small enough to take out a storefront, knock a Union office out of commission, that kind of thing.”

  I nodded. “The other day, one of Jilly’s drivers told me that a lot of tuk-tuks have been boosted. And I’ve heard complaints of how hard it’s been to hail a ride over the past month.”

  Soni cocked her head. “You don’t think...?”

  I nodded. “When we got outside this morning, I saw a shophouse blow up. A tuk-tuk was parked in front of it.”

  “You sure?”

  “I realize my memory isn’t as accurate as my pai’s feed, but, yeah. I thought the house had exploded, but maybe it was the tuk-tuk. Maybe someone’s carrying out Milt’s plan.”

  “Who else knew the details?” said Soni.

  Onanefe put his head in his hands. “Just us. And whatever police were in on the interrogations.”

  I looked at Soni. “You think you can find out who they were?”

  Soni shook her head. “Not with the Public down. But I can’t believe any police are doing this.”

  “Yeah? Like you can’t believe your people just stood by at Bakaara?” I hunkered down in front of her. “Two days ago, I would have laughed in your face if you told me that. I would have laughed if you’d told me the President of the Union would have set my building on fire. But now?” I took her hands. “We’re all getting played, Soni. And I don’t know about you, but it really pisses me off.”

  She smiled. “I do like it when you get pissed off. Things happen.”

  “Damn straight. You want to make them happen with me?”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  I nodded to Onanefe. “Cut him loose, first. We need him.”

  Soni’s smile faded. “You’re going to have explain a little bit before I do that.”

  I grinned. “Like the man said, it’s all about trust. We need to build a case.”

  “That’s what I wanted to do before you started insisting on coming along.”

  “And if you don’t, you’re not going to get much done. What have we not seen this morning? What would be here on any other day, during any other crisis?”

  Soni grunted as she surveyed the street. “I agree that the emergency response has… sucked.”

  “It’s been non-existent,” I said. “Whether that’s because someone on high is pulling strings or police are freaked out, I don’t know. What I do know is that having them hide is only going to encourage more chaos. There has to be a presence out here that says, We see there’s a problem, and we are working on it.”

  “And you think that presence should be the three of us?”

  I nodded.

  “Mm-hm.” Soni leaned on her thighs, tenting her fingers together. “I cannot wait to hear how you’re going to make that happen.”

  “We’re going to talk to people.”

  Soni looked at Onanefe. “Are you buying this?”

  He shrugged. “I’m willing to hear some details.”

  “Good, because I think you’re going to love this,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

  “I’m worried about how excited you are,” said Soni.

  “That means I’m on to something. We are going to talk to people, and we are going to say one simple thing: we hear you.”

  Onanefe and Soni stared at me for a moment. “Did you hit your head?” said Soni.

  “Possibly, but it has nothing to do with this. We need to reassure the citizenry that this crisis is going to pass, and that we’re all going to get through it by working together.”

  Onanefe shook his head. “I think your friend’s right. That’s delusional.”

  “It’s what’s going to work, because it’s what always works.”

  “Talking?” said Soni.

  “And listening. The listening is more important than the talking.”

  Soni sat back. “Jesus, Padma, this is not the time to sing songs and have everyone hold hands.”

&nbs
p; “Why not?”

  “Because someone is setting off bombs?”

  “And that’s why people will be reassured that Chief Soni Baghram of the Santee City Police Department is walking the streets instead of hiding inside an emergency bunker.”

  “And what can Chief Baghram do on her own?” said Soni. “Especially now that she’s out of medical supplies?”

  “She’s going to become the rallying point for all emergency personnel who still believe in what their badges represent,” I said, tapping the metal star on her chest. “Serve and protect, right?”

  She mulled this over, her eyes focused on the smoldering shophouses. “Suppose I go out there. Why does he come along?”

  “Ah.” I strode to Onanefe and put an arm around his shoulder. “Our friend from the FOC is going with us to show that the Freeborn are valued members of society, and that their fears will be allayed and their demands will be met.”

  “Really?” said Soni. “Just from having him along?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “This man, like you, stands for something important: not taking any more bullshit.”

  “This is true,” he said.

  “There will be Freeborn who know him by reputation,” I said. “And there will be sympathetic Union people who know what Onanefe stands for. Everyone will see him walking with the chief of police and a beloved hero of the Union.”

  “Beloved?” said Soni.

  “You bet your ass I’m beloved. That’s why you’re going to come with me. We’re going to show everyone how trust is supposed to work.” I patted Onanefe’s shoulder. “That’s what you had in mind, right? We all need each other. No one side is strong enough to prevail. If the police are considered untrustworthy, Soni’s useless. If the Freeborn are untrustworthy, you’re useless. If the Union is untrustworthy, I’m useless. So, let’s all be useless together.”

  Soni and Onanefe stared at me. “That is the worst speech I have ever heard,” said Soni.

  “It’s a rough draft. I can always edit later,” I said. “But you get what I’m saying, right?”

  “The Kum Ba Ya solution never works,” said Soni.

  “That’s because it’s bullshit,” I said. “Holding hands and singing songs around a campfire means no one listens. No one learns why the others are pissed off. There’s no reconciliation. That’s what we need, and we’re not going to get it from Letty, because she’s the one pulling all the strings.”

  “She is?” said Onanefe.

  I nodded. “That’s the case we’re going to build. I thought this was all Saarien and his whackjobs running around, but now I think he’s getting played, too.”

  “What makes you think Letty’s behind this?” said Soni.

  “Him,” I said, tapping Onanefe on the shoulder. “The loose end.”

  “The what?” he said.

  “You were at the vote. You knew what the bombing plan was. And you were at Milt’s funeral.”

  “So?”

  “Was Letty there?”

  “Yeah.”

  I looked at Soni. “Milt’s funeral was the morning Letty visited me. She came to my place and started that fire, knowing it would draw Onanefe and his crew. And she ensured their arrival by getting the police and fire chiefs to shift their officers around so there was no timely response.”

  Soni made a face. “That’s pretty thin.”

  “Not when you take into account everything that’s happened since. When Onanefe didn’t snuff it at the fire, someone tried to stab me. Except he was going for Onanefe.”

  Onanefe shook his head. “He was pretty fixed on you, Padma.”

  “Then why was he yelling, ‘You’re in my way’? I thought he meant that figuratively, but he didn’t. I got in between you and the knife. After he stabbed me, he wasn’t angry; he was mortified.” I looked at Soni. “As soon as I get my pai working, I’ll show you the footage.”

  “What about Bakaara?” said Onanefe.

  “That was cover,” I said. “Soni said all her officers had been pulled back. We saw people shaking their heads and arguing about the Public being wonky right before the riot. That means someone monkeyed with their pais. The only ones who can order that are the Executive Committee.”

  “But the people who run the Public are on strike,” said Soni.

  “Are they?” I said. “Are any of the people who actually run the city marching? Have you heard from any of them? Have you seen any demands, any speeches, any signs indicating that the people who do the work don’t want to? No. The only person who’s been broadcasting is Saarien, because he’s just cover for what Letty’s doing.”

  “Which is?”

  “That part, I have no idea.” I shrugged. “I don’t know what her game is, but I know she’s the one running it. I just know it.”

  “Your gut instincts won’t be any good in court,” said Soni.

  “It will in the court of public opinion,” I said. “And that’s where we have to try this. That’s why we have to get into the streets. No one has challenged Letty’s narrative. No one’s countered her story that everything is hopeless, that we’re all doomed. We have to do that. We have to give people some hope.”

  Soni tucked her chin in her hand. “This still sounds Kum Ba Ya.”

  “Talk without works is dead,” I said. “And we are going to do the work.”

  Onanefe grinned. “I’m ready to do the work.” He turned his back to Soni and raised his cuffed hands. “If you please?”

  Soni rubbed her head, her hand sliding back and forth over her scalp stubble. “Where do we go first?”

  I looked at the street signs and finally got my bearings. “Back to Bakaara Market.”

  “Why?”

  I smiled. “Because I’ve got a case of rum stored there.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Soni was pissed, and she spent the next ten blocks making sure I knew it. “When I joined the police, you know what they taught us first?”

  “Hairstyling?”

  Soni glared. “That the very worst thing to do in this job was to offer someone a drink.”

  “Your instructors must have been a ton of fun.”

  She stepped in front of me and held up her hand. “I’m serious, Padma. I know rum makes this world go ’round, but right now the city is full of angry, terrified people. Throwing booze into the mix is going to make things worse.”

  “It’s going to get them to come out of their houses and relax.”

  “Not today it won’t,” said Soni. “We’ve both been at Big Lily’s at last call. People who’ve been nursing grudges for months will find that excuse to throw a punch, and then no amount of talking can calm them down.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” I couldn’t help but laugh, I felt so light. “Do we wait until another bomb goes off? Do we wait until people break out the power tools and start slashing each other to pieces? ’Cause that’s what’s next, Soni. We have to do something. We have to make a choice.”

  “Throwing a party is not the best choice to make.”

  “Really? I think everyone would much rather have a party than a bloodbath. Besides, it’s Saturday.”

  “Is it?” said Onanefe. “I’ve lost all track of time.”

  “It is not Saturday,” said Soni, blinking furiously. “It’s only Thursday.”

  “I think people would rather have my Saturday than your Thursday.”

  “Can we split the difference and call it Friday?” said Onanefe.

  I clapped my hands and laughed. “Yes! Here’s a man who gets it.” I looped my arm through his and looked at Soni. “You coming, or what?”

  She shook her head. “I know the Public isn’t up, but I’m going on record right now by saying that whatever happens next will be all your fault.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time someone said that.” I offered my other arm to her. She took it, but gripped hard enough for me to know she wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

  As we approached Bakaara, I saw that KajSiab and her security
people had been busy during the night. Anything that hadn’t been bolted down had been turned into a barricade that ran around the perimeter of the Market. Empty kegs and molasses drums propped up head-high walls made of smashed tables and stall counters. As we got closer, I saw sparkles along the top of the barricade: smashed glass held in place with molasses paste.

  In front of us, there was a break in the barricade. Three security women stood there, eyeballing us as they showed us their cricket bats. One of them told us to hold up our hands, and we complied. As the guards frisked us, I recognized KajSiab among them. “What gives, KajSiab?”

  She gave me a wary look, then nodded, as if to say it was okay I addressed her by name. “We’ve got all kinds of people here seeking refuge, and we have to make sure no one brings anything dangerous inside.” She allowed me a small smile. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “Was I not supposed to be?”

  KajSiab shrugged. “We’d heard you got chopped to pieces by a bunch of Freeborn.”

  Onanefe curled his lip. “Says who?”

  KajSiab gave him the onceover, spending a long time looking at the lack of ink on his face. “I dunno. There’s all kinds of rumors floating around: the Prez is dead, WalWa is reclaiming the planet.”

  “I heard the Prez ran up the cable last night, and she’s hiding out on the anchor,” said the woman who’d frisked me.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Like KajSiab said. All kinds of rumors. Some guy fixing the water filter was talking about it.” She laughed. “Of course, he also said the Co-Op was giving away free rum, so he was probably full of it.”

  I looked at Soni, who shook her head so hard I thought it would fall off. “Funny you should mention rum,” I said. “Does anyone feel like a drink?”

  KajSiab snorted. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m a member of the Co-Op,” I said. “I never joke about rum.”

  She giggled, and I tried to put on my best I Am Completely Serious face. It must have worked, because KajSiab lowered her cricket bat. “I’m listening.”

  I threw Soni an eyebrow wiggle before turning to KajSiab. “Throughout this city, I have many cases of Old Windswept rum. Some of it is the standard production batch, but there are a few bottles of the really good stuff here and there. I want people to come out of their hiding places, bring their grills and their food and whatever they’ve got, and I want us all to sit down and eat and talk. After all” – I spread my arms out like I wanted to give the entire Market a hug – “it’s Friday.”