As I stepped
out of Mr. Silas’ car, I had but a solitary thought in my head. Holy hell am I in pain. I waved to Mr.
Silas as he pulled away and patted my back pocket for my cigarettes but then
realized they were still up in my apartment with everything else. I grimaced
and opened the steel fire door of the building, preparing for my journey up the
stairs. I knew it would hurt like a motherfucker and I’ll tell you something:
it fucking did.
As I reached
the top of the stairs and pulled my keys out of my pocket, I noticed the large
bloodstain in the wispy grey carpet right in front of my apartment door.
Intriguing. It must be from when the pig cracked me in the head with the butt
of his pistol. Now I’m a part of this shithole building. I unlocked my door and
stepped into my apartment, slamming the door behind me and locking my three
deadbolts. I was safe, for the moment anyway. But just because I was out of
police custody, it didn’t mean that I might couldn’t suddenly fall victim of a
tragic “accident”. A red Ford truck driven by a drunken volunteer fireman might
suddenly lose its brakes as I crossed the street, mowing me down. I might be
the target of an armed robbery by a gang of fiending crackheads armed with tire
irons and broken bottles. Or maybe the police will issue a formal kill contract
on me and a team of Russian mercenaries will wire the building with explosives
and bring the entire fucker down, collateral damage be damned. All might
happen, or maybe I’m just spouting abstract craziness because of the concussion
and blood loss. Who knows.
I moved gingerly to my couch and sat down, picking
up my pack of cigarettes and lighting one. The smoke burned the open wound on
my lip, but fuck it. I need the nicotine before I go for something stronger. I moved
my head backwards, resting it on the couch as I take a couple drags. A loud
series of knocks come from my front door as I take another puff. For fucks
sake, now what? Is the Russian Grim Reaper at my door? Perhaps a SWAT team
ready to blow my lungs out of my asshole? I ground out my cigarette into the
overflowing ashtray and picked myself up, walking slowly towards the door to
peer out the peephole. Thankfully, it’s just Carla. Dressed as usual in her
black dress and red lipstick, a cigarette dangling out of her lips. I unlocked
the deadbolts and swung my door open.
“Well hello.”
I said, grinning.
She looked at
me and drew on her cigarette, exhaling above my head.
“You look
like shit boy.” She said as she stepped inside.
“Hello to you
too dear.” I said, closing the door behind her and locking it again.
I gestured to
the couch, and she took the hint, sitting down gingerly and crossing her pale
black booted legs as she looked at me. I sat down on the other end of the couch
gingerly, groaning as the pain in my back spiked.
“Fuckers
really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Carla said, taking a last drag on her
cigarette before she put it out into the ashtray. I shrugged my
shoulders, but immediately wished I hadn’t, because it sent lances of pain
radiating throughout my back.
“They
probably would have beaten me to death eventually, but thank Christ you got that
fancy lawyer there to rescue me.”
She smiled at
me in her creepy yet adoring way.
“I’m glad you
had the instinct to text me before they got their hands on you, otherwise we
might not be having this conversation.”
I grinned at
her again, lighting another cigarette.
“I might need
another favor. I went too far assaulting that cop. Newark isn’t safe for me
anymore. Well, it never was, but now it really isn’t. Cops or worse will be
after my head, just looking for a way to pop me.” I took a long
drag on my cigarette and exhaled slowly, resting my head on the back of the
couch again.
“What do you
mean doll?” Carla said, an eyebrow raised.
“Meaning I’m
gonna have to get the fuck out of Dodge before too long, or the only trace of
me left will be that blood spot out in the hallway.”
Carla
grimaced as if my words were an unpleasant smell invading her nose.
“So, you’re going
to pack up and leave me in this hellhole?” She said, her brow furrowing, an icy
look in her eyes.
“I don’t have
a choice. It’s either a temporary goodbye or a permanent arrivederci for me.”
She kept
looking at me, her eyes were like ice chips as her gaze went right through me.
I shivered involuntarily. I hated it when she looked at me like that.
“I know. But
it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” She said, looking through me like an x-ray. I shuddered again.
“I can talk to some people, and see if we can get you out of here in the next
few days. Sooner, perhaps. Sound good?”
Indeed, that did sound good.
“Time and
time again you come through for me dollface.” I said to her, sitting up a
little more, taking a final drag from my cigarette and grinding it out. She smiled
finally, uncrossing her legs and pulling her phone from her bag.
“Let me talk
to some people and we’ll see what happens. Meanwhile, you need to go clean
yourself up. You look like hammered shit.” She said, her eyes flicking upward
at the dried blood all over my scalp.
I stood and
shrugged, again wishing I didn’t. Motherfucker did my back hurt. A shower and
some pharmaceutical bliss are in the cards for me. I walked into the bathroom
and flipped the switch awakening the fluorescent demon above the cracked
mirror. Wow, Carla was not kidding. My face was even more gaunt than usual. My bottom
lip had a hole in it where one of my teeth went through it and there was blood
matting the hair of my goatee, plastering it to my chin. The top of my skull
had a nice pattern of bruises and a long gash, covered with dried blood.
Probably needs stitches. I don’t have 12 hours to sit at the Emergency Room,
only to be arrested and get the shit beat out of me again. The hospital
automatically runs a police and credit report for everyone they give care to,
so I’d be right fucked if I went there. No thanks, I choose freedom.
I gingerly
pulled my clothes off and turned the shower on, praying for some hot water. In
typical Newark apartment housing fashion, I was gravely disappointed. A
halfhearted stream of lukewarm water was my only salvation. But, I’ll take it.
It’s not like I have a choice. Ten minutes of piss warm shower later, I’ve at
least got the blood washed away. It’s a start. I stare into the mirror and
realize at the very least my lip wound will need stitches. Fucking rad. Ten
minutes of some shaky needlework later and my lip wound is haggard looking, but
it’s stitched closed at least. I walk into my bedroom and put on a worn grey
t-shirt and another pair of black jeans with my combat boots. I’m sure I still
look like shit though.
“You still
look like shit, but at least it’s slightly better-looking shit now.” That’s
Carla’s greeting as I walk into the living room.
“Yeah yeah
yeah.” I said, reaching down to grab a cigarette. Damn, last one.
I lit it
with a flick of the zippo and inhaled the dense smoke deep into my lungs. Still
makes my lip sting, but oh well.
“So, did you
talk to your people doll?” I ask as I sit gingerly onto the couch.
“Yes, I did
actually. He can get you a set of new papers and a plane ticket to wherever you
like. Three grand.”
I coughed and
gagged on my lungful of smoke and flicked the cigarette onto the coffee table.
“Three
fucking thousand dollars? Is he fucking high?!” I roared, eyebrows raised, an
incredulous look plastered over my features. She just kept staring at me,
smiling.
“Yes, that’s
the going rate. However, I’ll cover the expenses for you. Think of it as a parting gift
boy.” I squinted at
her, picking my lit cigarette from the table and dragging on it.
“You just did
that for my reaction, didn’t you?”
Her wide eyes
and smile were answer enough. I rolled my eyes and slowly stood up, walking
back to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Painkillers, painkillers,
ah yes here we are. I shook two red capsules from the dull orange bottle and
swallowed them with a gulp of water from the faucet, an involuntary shiver
coming over me as they went down my gullet. Contrary to my intense appetite for
drugs, I actually don’t like swallowing pills. Even as a kid I never did, but
this shit isn’t something you can snort, and like I said I’m not one of those
sick fucks that stick the junk up their asses. I can’t pronounce most of the
ingredients that are in this damn thing, but I know it’ll kick in within about
fifteen minutes. There’s a little bit of amphetamine analogue mixed in as well,
so the pills dull the pain but don’t put me to sleep.
I walked back
out into the living room after I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a
few minutes, trying hard not to blink. My reflection just looked back at me,
unmoving.
Carla was standing at the door, tapping her foot.
“Pack some
essentials, and we’ll get you out of here tonight. Only the essentials, you
understand? I’ll have some people empty the place and cover your tracks
sometime today.”
I nodded and
returned to the bathroom, grabbing the bottle of pain capsules from the
cabinet. Stepping into my bedroom, I grabbed the dull green duffel bag from the
closet and started packing. Three pairs of jeans, three of my least worn out
shirts, some underwear and socks, and the bottle of pain capsules went into it. I opened my desk
and took out my envelope of money, looking into it. I had about four grand in
it, I think. I grabbed the small silver vial of Methamphetamine shards, and my
black switchblade, and tossed everything into the bag, zipping it tight. Just
the essentials, yes.
Stepping back
out into the living room I tossed the bag down to the floor and picked up my
Army jacket. I checked the pockets, finding my silver mirrored shades and the baggie of methylphenidate analogue. I picked up my
zippo from the coffee table and slipped it into my pocket. Looking around, I
realized this was the last time I was ever going to see this shithole of an
apartment. If you’re expecting me to get teary eyed, you’re in for a surprise.
I set my mouth into a straight line of defiance, picked up my bag, and turned
to Carla.
“I’m ready
doll. Let’s hit it.”
She nodded
and undid the deadbolts, opening the door wide. I stepped out after her and
closed the door behind me with a snap. I started to walk away, but then turned
back and locked the door up again. I may not be coming back to this cabbage
fart smelling hellhole, but I don’t want anyone messing with my shit.
We both
went down the stairs to street level, going out onto the broken sidewalk. The
steel fire door closed behind me with a thump of brutal cold finality, and it
only made me grimace more. The sky was tinged a lightening blue, the vestiges
of night sliding away into the beginning of the new day. I chuckled to myself.
What a sign if there ever was one. We walked silently then to the parking
structure down the street and to my truck before either of us said anything.
“Well doll, I
guess this is it.” I said, turning to look down at her.
Even in her
heeled boots, she was still a head shorter than me. Her eyes didn’t look so
much like ice chips anymore, but there was still some coldness there. She wasn’t
going to forgive me for leaving, even if she understood the reasons.
“I guess so.
Give me your apartment key. I’ll have my people put your shit into storage
before they cleanse the place.”
I took the
key from the ring and handed it to her, and she placed it in her bra. She
looked up at me, blue eyes unblinking. But there was still emotion there,
despite her best attempts to appear cold. She opened her mouth to say
something, but I put a finger to her lips, and leaned down and kissed her. I
think she was startled by it, but she accepted it, putting her hands on my
lower back as I put mine on her shoulders. I pulled away and looked her in the
eyes for a moment before I kissed her forehead.
“I love you
Carla.”
“I know.”
I smirked at
her, opening the truck door and tossing my bag in, and closed it again as I
turned to look at her.
“Your ticket
will be at the counter by the time you get to the airport. Where are you going
to head?” She asked, looking up at me. I smirked again.
“I hear
Detroit is nice this time of year.”
She wrinkled
her nose at me, rolling her eyes.
“Bigger
shithole than Newark if you ask me.” She said, an eyebrow raised.
“Maybe so,
but the cops and the gangs don’t know me there. I’ll be at least a little bit
safer.”
She just
rolled her eyes at me and shook her head.
“Get going boy.”
I kissed her
forehead again, before I got into my truck and started the motor with a throaty
roar. I blew her a kiss through the window and waggled my eyebrows at her, and
she just shook her head at me and made a shooing motion with her hands. I
grinned and backed out of the parking spot, before pulling away and out into
the street, squealing the tires as I sped up the street and towards the
airport. My face was set like stone,
my mouth a line of quiet defiance again.
Carla stood
staring after Erich’s truck, watching it pull out onto the street
and roaring away. As it disappeared up the street, the sun broke over
the buildings across the way and rays of light shined in onto the floor of the
parking structure. She
stood there, until a single tear welled from
her left eye and rolled down her cheek.
