Dirty

  Happened to meet Joseph when an older homeless guy, Wilbur, kindly offered me a tin metal hat spouting all kinds of shit about government conspiracies and microchips inserted into the brains of unknowing citizens. According to Wilbur, if you want to scramble the chip, you gotta wear the hat. Joseph came out of his alley, wearing one of those stupid fucking hats, and looked to me, smirking. “Sorry about that. Wilbur,” he called to the crazy dude, “come on down here and tell me one of your stories.”

  But Wilbur had other ideas. “No. I’m making a friend, Joe.”

  Joseph looked at me with pity and amusement. “No gettin’ away now. He’s claimed you.”

  It had been a long time since I had spoken to anyone. The company—for once—was welcome. Kept me from thoughts I shouldn’t have been thinking anyway. “No problem.”

  Don’t ask me how it happened, but not five minutes later, down Joseph’s alley, while we wore tin foil hats, Wilbur told us about the time he won a hand of cards against Elvis.

  After Wilbur told us about the time he dated Marilyn Monroe, he called it a night, and I was left with Joseph. I could tell immediately that this guy was a good guy. Gave off a distinct vibe that yelled safe. I introduced myself, and he shook my hand, nice and firm. And for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why the fuck this dude was homeless. I pried, but all he told me was, “I’m better off here than I was working.”

  We shot the breeze for an hour then I took off. Joe offered his couch for the night if I had nowhere to stay, and although I had nowhere else to go, I declined.

  Now, a week later, here I sit on the moldy-smelling couch, playing puff-puff-pass with my new friend.

  Comfortable in the silence, we watch people walk by in a rush. They’re always in a rush. Five years ago, I was in a rush. Five years ago, I was one of those people. Now, I’ve got all the time in the world.

  Looking up at the starless night sky, I gaze over at my companion. “You ever miss it?”

  Joseph doesn’t need me to break it down. He gets me. “No.”

  “Not even a bit?” I push. “You don’t miss having a nice car and a roof over your head? You don’t miss women?”

  “Okay, I miss women.” He exaggeratedly shakes his head sadly and sighs. “No chick wants to fuck a homeless guy. It’s just not sexy.”

  High as a fucking kite, I laugh. I laugh because it’s true. I laugh and laugh till the memory of her smiling face makes my gut churn. Inhaling the smoke, I then exhale and admit out loud for the first time ever, “I miss my woman. And my son. I’d give anything to be with them tonight.”

  Joe plucks the blunt from my fingers, inhaling. As he exhales, he prods, “And that’s not an option?”

  I shake my head, looking out into the street. “Not until I take care of business.”

  A heavy hand slaps me on the back. “Then take care of business, bro.”

  Leaning back on the ripped brown sofa, I place my hands behind my head, close my eyes and sigh. “Yeah. Working on it.”

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep till I woke up on Joe’s couch with Joe nowhere to be found. I felt like an asshole taking his bed from him, forcing him somewhere else for the night.

  The night before, I’d said too much. I wouldn’t be seeing Joseph again. Ever.

  As I stood and stretched, I reached into my jacket pocket, pulled out a bundle of notes and put it under the trash can, where I’d seen Joe hide the little money he had. It was the least I could do to offer him a bit of comfort and know he’ll be eating well, even if for a little while.

  I placed my hands in my pockets and walked out of the alley.

  Joe had good things coming his way.

  I could feel it.

  ***

  There aren’t many things I appreciate in life. Strange, I know, coming from my background. Guess I always felt the things I did appreciate could go at any time. No appreciation equals no feelings of loss when that thing went away. And now, in this world I created around myself, I don’t have a lot of friends, but the friends I have, I appreciate.

  I walk up the steps to the front door of the house. I can hear talking and laughing coming from the inside.

  Nothing fancy. White picket fence, dirty SUV in the drive, a small garden filled with white flowers.

  It’s nice.

  Nothing I would pick for myself, but nice.

  Raising a hand, I knock. Not a minute later, a pretty, slim redhead answers the door. She has bright green eyes and a smatter of light freckles across her nose. Her smile falls as she takes in my tattooed hands and exposed neck. Her haunches rise as she asks a cautious, “Can I help you?”

  I mentally smile. She doesn’t like me. “I was in the neighborhood. I’m looking for Nox. You must be Lily.”

  A look of confusion crosses her face. “That’s right. And you are?”

  “I’m Twitch.”

  Her smile returns full force and, before I know it, she launches herself at me. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to meet you!”

  And I just stand here, body stiff, face twisted into a grimace. I don’t know what to do here. I raise my hand to pat her shoulder awkwardly. When I hear chuckles from the doorway, I see Nox leaning against the frame, grinning wide. “She’s a hugger.”

  I glare.

  No shit, Captain Obvious.

  I pat her again. “Nice to meet you, Lily.” Please let go of me.

  Pulling back, I’m thrown by the transformation a simple smile does to her face. She’s beautiful. Not Lexi beautiful, but still. Placing her hand in the crook of my arm, she tugs me into the house. “It’s not often I get to meet Nox’s friends. You could say I get a little excited.” Looking Nox in the face, she mock whispers out the side of her mouth to me, “I need ammo. If you got any humiliating stories about my husband, I need to know them, like, yesterday.”

  My lips twitch. “I’ll see what I can do. I might have one or two stored away.”

  Nox shakes his head at the woman by my side. She all but drags me into the kitchen. “I’ll pay you handsomely, of course. Say, a nice home-cooked dinner and dessert?”

  As if on cue, my stomach growls. I turn to Nox. “Can she cook?”

  Nox pats his stomach, obviously still glowing in the memory of his last cooked meal. “She can cook.”

  I look down at Lily, wondering how much I can get out of this. “You throw in a batch homemade cookies, and we got a deal.”

  Her eyes narrow at me a moment before she nods. “Peanut butter chocolate chip okay?”

  I turn to Nox. “Dude.”

  He sighs dreamily, looking down at his wife lovingly. “I know.”

  Lily pulls out a chair at the kitchen table and ushers me into a seated position. “What are you having? Coffee, juice, soda?”

  “A soda would be great, thanks.”

  Nox sits opposite me. “Never thought I’d see you down my neck of the woods.”

  I shoot him a look. “Need to talk.”

  His eyes narrow at the look on my face. “You came all the way from Australia to talk? A phone call would’ve been a fuckload cheaper, T.”

  My eyes shoot back to Lily. I turn back to Nox and whisper, “Need help.”

  Nox rubs a hand over his face. “I’m out. I’m a family man now. I’m a father. I drive my kids to school. I’m a part of the PTA. Fuck, I volunteer, Twitch. Whatever you need, I can’t get you.”

  Damn. That fucking blows.

  I can’t fault the man. If I were in his position, I’d be doing exactly what he is. Enjoying my family.

  Lily walks over, glasses of soda in hand. “So, you’re in the neighborhood. Where are you staying?”

  I scratch at my temple. “Uh, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”

  Lily looks over at Nox. They have a silent conversation. She looks back to me and smiles. “Well, that settles it. You’ll stay here with us.” I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off with a swipe of her
hand. “No. I insist.” Standing, she walks over to the living room, picking up toys and books as she goes. “It’s not much, but we have a spare room with a single bed in it. It’s either that or the fold out. And you don’t want the fold out.” She turns to me and makes a face. “It smells like sour milk.”

  I look over at Nox. “Dude.”

  He gently shakes his head, smiling at the ridiculous face his wife is making. “I know.”

  Although I declined more times than I can count, Nox wouldn’t accept it. So I placed my backpack in the spare room and promised I’d only stay the night. While Lily started on dinner, Nox and I went out the back and talked.

  Handing me a beer, we sat on the deck, staring out into the yard. Sipping my beer, I heard his chair creak as he adjusted himself. He was rubbing at his thigh, a pained expression gripping him. I jerked my chin toward his leg. “Still hurts?”

  Massaging his thigh, digging his thumbs deep into the skin, he replies, “Yeah. It’s not quite pain though. It’s something else. Sometimes I can still feel my leg.” Lifting his pants leg, I take in the aluminum prosthetic.

  How times have changed.

  I’m a man. And being a man, I don’t feel comfortable with the emotions coursing through me. So I do what any other man would do. I change the subject. “So, you’re a father, huh?”

  Nox grins, puffing out his chest. “Three times over. I got a little boy, Rocco. He’s six. Then came our first girl, Angie. She’s four. And finally, our second girl, Mia. She’s three.”

  My chest squeezes. “Congrats, man.” I sip my beer and squint as I look to the sky and try to keep the pain out of my voice. “Got a boy. AJ. He’s four tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  My head snaps toward him. “You keeping tabs?”

  He searches my face and, ignoring my question, asks, “What are you doing here, Twitch?”

  “Keeping my family safe.”

  He immediately returns, “By bringing flaming piles of shit to my doorstep?”

  This was a bad idea. I move to stand. “Thanks for the beer.”

  “Sit your ass down. Lily’s making dinner. If you leave now, you’ll hurt her feelings.”

  I glare at him. That was a low blow. After meeting Lily, I kind of like her. I don’t want to upset her. The asshole just grins. “Sit down. Let’s talk. That’s why you came here, after all. Lay it on me. Give it to me straight.”

  I shouldn’t sit. I should leave. Instead, I lay it down. “I got five houses on my list. Each of those houses got a king.” I pause a moment, before stressing, “It’s in my best interest for those kings to retire. So that’s what I’m doing. Forcing each king into early retirement. ” I jerk my chin. “Permanent retirement.”

  Nox doesn’t blink. “Why?”

  I sit. “Did business with these men. That business went sour. I…” I cough. “…I didn’t handle it well. Made some bad decisions. Left scars. Happy’s been listening out for things. These men all sent condolences to Lexi when I died.” I lay a pointed stare at him. “To her home.”

  He nods. “Right.”

  “What do you think’s gonna happen if I decide to go home?”

  “They know where she lives. She and your boy become walking targets.”

  Bingo.

  Suddenly, he stills. “You planning on going home?” I don’t respond, just sip at my beer. He continues, “I help you fake your death, use up all my contacts, all my fucking markers, and now you wanna go home?” His eyes blaze. “Are you out of your motherfucking mind? The cops will be on you before you can say boo.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  His brow rises slightly. “What? I told you, I’m out. I don’t do this shit anymore.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “Then what the fuck do you want, Twitch?” He sounds exhausted.

  I run my fingers down the condensation on my beer bottle. Turning to my friend, I look him in the eye as I relay my request. “I want you to turn me in.”

  I don’t believe this shit.

  Never in my life have I been more angry or embarrassed. This is not how I conduct my work. I’m a professional. I don’t mess up. I never get it wrong.

  I can’t let this get out. If it gets out, everything I have worked for is over. My career will be over.

  Let’s rewind.

  An hour after the untimely death of Dino Gambino, an express courier came to the door, delivering a package to Eduardo Castillo. Leaving his men to clean up the mess that was Dino, Eduardo excused himself to his private quarters.

  Cleaning was never my thing. I didn’t much like the thought of blood on my hands.

  I decided to go upstairs and check on Alejandra. Miguel said she needed time alone, and normally, there would be nothing wrong with that, but here was a pregnant woman, upstairs, alone, thinkin’ way too hard on things. On the death of the man she loved.

  I never could stand to see a woman suffer.

  I felt the need to offer her my condolences. I also felt the need to spare a few words for her, letting her know that she made the right decision. The protection of her child should come first, now and always. No one would hold that against her. I approached the door with caution, but when I placed my knuckle to the door, with a slight creak, it opened; a frown marred my face. Pushing the door open all the way, eyeing the rumpled state of the bed, I searched the room through narrowed brows.

  Where was she?

  There was no time to think on this. A second after I stepped back into the hall, a pale-faced Eduardo stood at the open doorway of his quarters. I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he cut me off with, “I need you to find Miguel. Find him and come back to me.” He blinked as sweat formed on his brow. He spoke quietly. “Find him. Now.”

  Wanting to maintain an air of respect for this man, I did as I was told. I found Miguel and Ling in the kitchen, and not a minute later, we were ushered into Eduardo Castillo’s safe haven, having the door locked behind us.

  Miguel was the first to ask, “Papa? What’s wrong?”

  Without a response, Eduardo motioned for us to sit then held the remote up to the TV.

  The soundless, black-and-white footage played on the massive screen. We watched in complete silence. We watched wide-eyed. I watched seemingly in slow motion, every beat of my heart turning into a weak, dull thud in my chest.

  We were in trouble.

  As the Russian mobster, and known psychopath, Maxim Nikulin, pierced Raul Mendoza’s heart for the last time, he knelt over his body in the bar’s parking lot, laughing.

  Dino Gambino didn’t kill Raul.

  Maxim Nikulin killed Raul.

  This was not a jealousy-fuelled hate killing.

  It was a less convoluted loss of a soldier in a turf war.

  Lives have been lost for less. Which only meant one thing.

  In my present state, anger bubbled up from a place stored deep inside of me, from the place I told myself didn’t exist. The truth was, I prided myself for being cool, calm and collected, but when something set me off, I could do damage. Granted, it took a lot to set me off. And right now… I was set off.

  Standing, I ball my hands into fists, turn to face Miguel and hiss, “Where is she?”

  It’s time for damage control.

  I’d never needed to do so before. You can say I’m feeling sore about it.

  Miguel turns to Eduardo, and utters, “What now?”

  Eduardo, rubbing his hands down his face, looks at his son. “We call Vito, show him the video.” Sighing, he stands, walking over to his desk. “Show him that his son has been vindicated. An hour after his death. I’m sure Vito will understand.” He nods absently. “I’m sure he will understand that his son, his firstborn, was put to death”—his voice rises—“because of a false accusation—” face turning red, he roars—“put forth by my son and daughter, Dino’s own wife!” Slamming his hand down on his desk, with one clean swipe, papers, ornaments and office supplies are sent careening to the gr
ound with a crash and clatter. Turning to face us, he blasts sarcastically, “Yes. I’m sure with a simple explanation, all will be well.”

  Ling flinches but says nothing.

  Miguel blanches. “Papa, I had every reason to believe Dino did it. If Alejandra hadn’t—”

  Cutting him off midsentence, Eduardo dips his chin. “This is the end of an alliance. A good alliance. A great alliance. And I want to know why.” Closing his eyes, he utters a hoarse, “Bring me Alejandra.” Sighing through his nostrils, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Bring me my daughter.”

  Searching for the better part of an hour brought forth the conclusion that Alejandra had fled. Miguel had called her cell over twenty times, left countless messages on her voice mail telling her he wasn’t angry at her, that he just wanted to know why she did it and he wanted to know if she was okay.

  Fuck that.

  I was angry. I demanded to know why she lied. And I did not give a flying fuck about her wellbeing. Not right now, anyway.

  Vito had arrived shortly after with his sons. His face lowered in shame, Miguel walked them upstairs. Eduardo motioned for the men to sit, and before they started to watch, I wedged myself between the Castillos and Gambinos. Although it would be warranted, violence would not be solving the problems right now.

  The video played, and I watched closely as Vito Gambino broke down and cried. The youngest son, Luc, placed his arm around his father and consoled him. The reaction of the middle son, Gio, now the oldest, I suppose, had me puzzled.

  He watched Raul Mendoza be slaughtered in cold blood with a smirk on his face.

  Vito Gambino stood, guns blazing. “My son!” He looked from Eduardo to Miguel, and snarled, “My son is dead, because of your vermin!”

  I expected Eduardo to snap back, to respond snarkily. I hid my surprise as Eduardo came forward, face apologetic, placing one hand on Vito’s shaking shoulder. “I know.” As Vito dipped his chin to cry, Eduardo embraced him like a brother and held him as he mourned, offering him solace and strength in his time of need. “I know. And I cannot express how sorry I am, Vito.” Patting his back, he uttered a firm, “I will fix this.”