by Cee Perkins
She glanced up again, that bashfulness stronger than a minute ago, and shook her head. “Ah...no. Have a good evening, Dan.”
She turned and retreated down the hall, her steps quick.
And again, for the millionth time, again, I thought of Corra.
Sighing, I decided to shut my computer down for the day and maybe call my mother back. It wasn’t until I’d picked up my takeout that I decided to finally call her. To say I was surprised about what she said was an understatement.
“Danny, I have some news,” she said after we’d said our hellos and small talk.
“Ok…” I said.
“I’ve started a 12-step program. I realized that my gambling addiction has gotten in the way of our relationship, and I don’t want that to be the case anymore. I haven’t been a very good mother to you, and I know it’ll probably take some time to repair the damage I’ve caused, but...I just wanted you to know that I’m trying to turn things around.”
Speechless. I could literally not think of one thing to say.
“Dan?” she asked, nerves clear in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m here. I just...I don’t know what to say, Mom. I’m glad you’re trying to get help and thank you for telling me.”
“I am so sorry I haven’t been there for you.”
“Mom...it’s...well, I won’t say ‘it’s ok’ because it isn’t but thank you for realizing it. I guess that’s part of the program, isn’t it? Admitting you have a problem?”
“Yes. I have a sponsor and I go to meetings three times a week. It’s not easy. But out of everyone, I’ve hurt you the most and I need to try and start making amends to you now,” she said.
“Well...good. Good for you, Mom.”
Silence fell between us, then a deep sigh over the line. “I— I love you, Danny-boy. And I am so proud of the man you’ve become, in spite of your upbringing.”
Who was this person? “Um. I love you too, Mom. And...thanks,” I said.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know what’s going on. Do you think maybe we could have dinner this week? I’m learning to cook, and I’d love to have you over,” she said.
“Sure, Mom. How’s Thursday?”
“Thursday sounds good. I’ll see you then. I love you, Danny,” she said.
“See you,” I said, and disconnected.
Sitting back in my seat, I mulled over what my mom said. I wondered what brought on this big epiphany she’d had. Was it getting beat up? Did losing Dad finally catch up to her?
Whatever it was, I hoped it stuck. But I wasn’t really getting my hopes up.
Chapter 24
Corra
I’d decided when I left Margo’s house that night that I’d stop by and do spot checks. I knew I wasn’t going to drag her out of a casino or bookie hideout, but should I find her out on a bender, I’d pay her one last visit to let her know she no longer had help. Harsh? I didn’t really give a flying fuck. Loving her son had cost me a lot of money, and I wasn’t talking about the $15 grand I paid Drew Walker. And now my milestone goal was in jeopardy, too.
So it was fair for me to keep tabs on the only living link to the man who’d changed my life. That’s how I ended up here, on Margo’s front porch a month after my last visit. This time, when she opened the door, I didn’t have to force my way in. While it wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, it was an improvement. And so was the woman behind the door.
It seemed that treating addiction of any kind reflected physically. Margo Smith had been a stooped, downtrodden, shrunken woman. But after a month of redirecting her energy, her shoulders were straighter, and color flushed her cheeks.
“Well, come in, I suppose,” she said and widened the door. “Come to threaten me some more? Well, I’ve got news for you. I haven’t gambled since your last visit and I’ve been staying away from it all for the last month. Pick up my 30-Day token tonight, actually,” Margo declared, hands on her hips and a defiant glare in her eyes.
I nodded. “Good. That’s really all I wanted to know. I didn’t pay your debt to attach strings and force you into anything—”
“Could’ve fooled me,” she grumbled under her breath.
“I did it to give you an opportunity. You know, break the cycle and maybe point out how much better your life could be. Was I wrong?” I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to answer.
Reluctantly, she shook her head. “No, you were right.”
A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. Margo pushed past me and opened the front door.
On the other side stood my heart. God, he was fuck-me hot with that stubble along his jaw and those fucking soft jeans. Without noticing me, he said, “Ready, Mom?”
Margo turned to me, “If you’ll—”
“What are you doing here, Corra?” Dan asked, his jaw clenched tight with anger.
“You two know each other?” Margo asked, glancing between us.
“No,” Dan bit out.
I was still frozen in place, drinking in the sight of him, wishing with everything in me that I could just touch him. Just...run my fingers through his hair.
Fuck, no wonder Isla was working more than me. I was turning into a sap. Saps couldn’t shoot people.
I shook myself out of my thoughts. “I just stopped by—”
“I don’t care why you stopped by. I never want to see you again, especially around my mother,” he said angrily.
My face fell and I ran my fingers through my hair. “I guess I deserve that. I’ll just...go.” I turned to look at Margo, her face filled with curiosity. “It was nice to see you again. Congratulations.”
She just looked down at her feet.
I pushed past her and Dan, trying to give myself plenty of space so I didn’t accidentally brush him. As I left Margo’s house, I felt the sting of Dan’s rejection, again. This is why I don’t fall in love.
Dan
“So you know Corra,” Mom said softly from the passenger seat.
I knew it was coming, but I was hoping the tension in my shoulders would hold it off for, oh, I don’t know, forever. Alas.
“So do you.”
“She...helped me. Did you have something to do with it?”
That shocked the ever-loving crap out of me. “She what?”
“She...ah, she pointed out what an awful human I am,” she said, looking out the window.
What did I say to that? Mom had been a bad human. She was working on it, though, and that’s the only reason I was with her tonight— to celebrate her accomplishment.
“Oh.” Was all I offered.
We were silent the rest of the way to the rec hall where her meetings were held. As we were getting out of the car and heading inside, Mom turned to me and put her hand on my arm. “I’m grateful that you decided to come with me tonight. Your support means the world to me, and it helps keep me on track.”
I looked at her for a moment, then said, “I’m proud of you for working on yourself, Mom.”
With that, I offered my arm to her and we continued walking inside.
Once the meeting was over and Mom had gotten congratulated by approximately 80% of the city’s population, I drove her home and headed toward my own house, contemplating Corra’s “help” to my mom. Did she expect me to come running back because she more than likely threatened my mom? Did she think I would forgive her for letting me fall for her when she knew we could never be together?
Pulling into my driveway and cutting the engine, I blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over my face. I was still getting used to the stubble, but truthfully, it actually helped ground me when I was losing myself to thoughts like these. The scrape of the short hairs on my palm brought me back to the present, allowing me to gain perspective on whatever was on my mind. Only this time, I couldn’t gain perspective. If Corra was really a cold-blooded killer, why would she bother with my mom?
Oh my god, did someone put a hit on my mom? The thought made my head spin and I snatched my phone from the console and sent a text to
Corra before I could think it over.
Dan: Why do you know where my mother lives?
I stared at my phone, and after a few seconds, those three dots started bouncing on the screen. Then disappeared. Then bounced again.
Corra: She’s not in danger.
Dan: That’s not what I asked. Did someone put a hit on her?
I stared for a while before giving up and assuming she wasn’t going to answer. I got out of my car and went inside, reaching for the new bottle of whiskey I’d started keeping over my stove. I guess I was trying to cultivate alcoholic tendencies, between buying and keeping it in stock, then drinking alone.
Fortunately, I didn’t have an addictive personality.
I screwed the top back on after another swallow from the bottle and returned it to its spot. In the dead silence of my house, with only the kitchen light on over the sink, I allowed myself to think about Corra, to remember how she looked standing in my mother’s living room. She was still bright and brilliant, her long honey hair sweeping down her back, her blue eyes reflecting adoration and pain. When she brushed past me, I’d hoped with just the smallest sliver that she’d accidentally touch me. I’d breathed her in, just a little, and reveled in her jasmine scent. Her voice still made my heart pick up speed, despite the new smallness of it, and the hurt threaded through it. I allowed myself to admit only in the darkness that I wished I could have her. I wished I could somehow be ok with her work. But killing people just because someone paid her to do it was beyond unforgivable. So while my stupid heart wished for the impossible, my mind suggested I forget she exists.
My phone vibrated on the bar where I’d dropped it. I reached for it and breathed a sigh of relief at Corra’s answer.
Corra: no.
And that’s all she said. No apology for anything, no “please forgive me,” no, “I’ve changed,” no, “Take me back.” Logically, I knew it had been a slim chance anyway, and I also knew I’d have said no. But when was love ever logical?
She probably hadn’t felt the same for me, anyway. Why would someone like her fall in love with someone like me? Rigid, scared, stuck. That wasn’t me anymore, but she didn’t know that. In fact, Ryan didn’t even know it anymore. I hadn’t seen him since the last time we’d had dinner, and I hadn’t spoken to him since my impromptu trip. I didn’t know when his sense of justice and morality had changed, and sometimes I still felt part of me was adrift without his friendship. However, I hadn’t been able to decide how I felt about his ability to look the other way when the laws he’d been sworn to uphold were so blatantly broken, essentially in front of him.
No, I didn’t want to see Corra in prison. But I also didn’t want her to kill anyone else. And that, at the root of everything, was the problem. Two pieces of me at war as a result of that woman, costing me my sense of security and the only friendship I’d ever been able to truly count on. I shook my head and decided to go to bed.
My phone vibrated again while I was brushing my teeth, and I paused long enough to pick it up.
Corra: I hope
Nothing else. No ending to the thought, and it looked like no follow up would be coming.
I hoped, too. Even though the biggest part of me was slowly pushing me further from her. I still hoped that maybe she’d change her mind.
Chapter 25
Corra
Corra: I hope
I couldn’t even finish the thought. There was just too much I hoped for. Mostly, I hoped Dan would find a life of happiness. The selfish part of me hoped that happy life included me by his side, but...wishing on shooting stars and all that.
I lay awake the whole night after seeing Dan. I watched the sunrise through my bedroom window, daydreaming of an alternate life. One where I was a housewife type who didn’t have an AK disassemble time of forty-five seconds; one where Dan was mine. There was a melancholy happiness snaking through me. On the one hand, picturing us together was euphoric; on the other hand, knowing it would never happen was causing such a crash it was hard to breathe.
I didn’t know if it was only because Dan had been the only man who ever made me feel the way I did, or if it was losing Dan himself that kept this ridiculous monkey on my shoulder, but I wished it would go away. But then, I wished this feeling never went away. The pain was a reminder that I’d loved. That I still loved.
I was taking Ash to Salty’s garage today to drop off her car, and at ten o’clock, she texted that she was downstairs waiting. I slid into my shoes and got into the elevator, this morning’s daydream on steady repeat in the back of my mind. How is it that my brain worked like that? I was in the elevator, consciously thinking about my to-do list, but a part of me was stuck watching my dream play out.
That shit could stop. Like an hour ago.
I threw my hand up at Ash and drove to Salty’s, staying in the car while Ash did what she had to. My passenger door opened at the same time a knock sounded on my window. I rolled it down and Salty laid into me.
“Too good to get out and talk to me?” he said, his voice with a bite I’d rarely ever heard directed at me.
“Holy shit, what crawled up your ass and died?” I asked and heard Ash snicker behind me.
Salty glared over my shoulder, then said to me, “I got somethin’ for you.”
“Ok...give it.”
He rolled his eyes, “Not here, moron. A job the club needs done.”
I blew out a breath, not wanting to have this conversation with Salty ever, “I—”
“Not. Here. Jesus, Corra.”
“Jesus Corra? Jesus you. Why are you such a fucking dick today?”
“I’ll be by later,” he said, pushing off my car and stomping away.
I turned to Ash with a scowl on my face. “What did you do to him?”
“Me?! I didn’t to shit,” she said, holding her hands up.
Great. I got Dan on repeat in my head and now I have to talk to a cranky Salty. I should’ve stayed in bed.
*****
Later that evening, Salty showed up, still in his dick mood, carrying a thick manila envelope.
“Here,” he said, all but throwing the envelope at me.
“What the fuck is your problem, Salty? Stop being such a fucking twatwaffle. I didn’t do shit to you,” I said, throwing the envelope back at his head. “Now, you wanna try that again?”
He sighed and walked to my couch, sitting in the corner. “That’s the info. Half now, half with proof, as usual.”
I opened the envelope and pulled out the paper with the information on the target. Thirty-nine, female— wait.
“Female?” I asked, jerking my head up.
“What, you think females can’t do shit that pisses the wrong people off?” he said, raising a brow.
Hm. Good point. I kept scanning the page, not finding any reason Salty’s club would want this woman dead. “What’d she do?” I asked, pulling out the photo.
“What the fuck does it matter what she did? It’s not your job to ask questions. It’s your job to shoot this whore.”
I stared at Salty for a minute, then got up and went into my bathroom. Grabbing what I was looking for, I walked back to the living room and tossed the bottle of Midol at his head, hitting him in the forehead. “Your period is showing.”
Salty just scowled and shook his head. “Just give me a fucking day to expect it done.”
This is the part I dreaded. “I need to know why she needs to be dead. I can’t just kill people anymore for whatever reason.”
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Because I’m not God, and it’s not right for me to play her.”
Salty’s stare turned even harder on me. “She fucking kidnapped Prez’s daughter and beat the shit out of her when she refused to be a whore.”
That brought me up short. “Prez’s daughter is thirteen.”
“And?”
“Who would do that to a thirteen-year-old girl?”
“You and I both know there are worse people out there than this cunt. But f
or now, this is the only one you need to worry about.”
I glanced at the picture again. “I’ll need a week to map her schedule.” And to make sure she’s guilty. “So by next Friday,” I told Salty.
He nodded. “Good. I’m detoxing.”
“You’re what now?” Salty’s club ran drugs, I was well aware. I just didn’t realize he was quality control. The occasional blunt and the frequent bottle of vodka were friends of mine, but Salty’s currency was coke and pills.
“Detoxing. I haven’t had a bump in three days and it’s pissing me the fuck off.”
I could literally only gape at him. “I...I didn’t know you had a problem,” I said finally.
“I didn’t. Until I did. But I’m getting off it so excuse the fuck out of me if my period shows,” he said, mocking me.
“Wow, Salty, I didn’t know. Do you need me to do anything?”
“No, just...I don’t know, just deal with me, ok? I know I’m a bitch right now but I can’t be on that shit anymore. Profits started missing and you know the first place they’re gonna look is me.”
I nodded my head. “Ok. I’m here if you need more help.”
He snorted. “Like if the Prez needs to be offed?”
I grinned widely. “He hasn’t done anything personally to me, but he causes problems for my big bro and I’ll take it as a personal affront,” I said, nudging Salty with my elbow.
Salty chuckled and looked at his knees. Then, almost so quiet I didn’t hear it. “I love you, sis.”
Well, that just made my day.
Dan
“Mack, come here,” I called as the man in question passed my door.
“Yeah boss?” he asked. He thought he was funny when he did that. I just rolled my eyes.
“Why is the IRS asking for last quarter’s records for the Jameson accounts?”
Mack’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Uh?”
“Eloquent.” I snorted. “You had the Jameson account and now the IRS is wanting records. Why?”
“Dan, for real, man, I don’t know. Everything added up and balanced out, all deposits and statements.”