Note: I just finished writing this and I'm not too sure about the beginning. It seems a little choppy to me but anyways, this is using the same main character from another story I wrote. You don't have to read it but if you do read it, you'll get a better understanding of what's going on.
Fighting the Blue
Enjoy!!!
Our Lady Liberty
By Angel of Death
You had to keep your hands folded together when driving with my brother. He always had the radio turned up loud and when he knew a song, his voice would fly over the words like an angel of death. The boy couldn't sing. We were driving down Vermilion Avenue, on a cool afternoon. Kids were playing cops and robbers in the parking lots of abandoned buildings, police cars were drifting quietly down the street, and Bruno was singing at the top of his lungs, sounding like a drunk Billy Joel. Miami 2017 was one of my favorite songs, a classic. Mamma used to play this song all the time, God rest her soul. She'd probably keel over all over again if she heard her eldest son bull-crapping all over the words. I mean, the guy didn't even know the words, he was just singing 'em to sing 'em. When the chorus came, he let out a loud screech that made my eyes flutter.
"Sheesh Bruno, you think you can put a sock in it."
I looked at him and he looked back at me, his dark eyes filled with annoyance. His lips pursed in the way I knew meant that he was going to give me one of his long speeches on how this was his car and that he was the big brother and he didn't have to listen to me. The more he stared at me, the tighter I held my hands. If I wanted to, I could punch the living daylights out of this sucker but he's my brother, the only one I got.
"You want to repeat that Micky?" he asked, his hand gripping the steering wheel.
"Nah, I'm sorry. Continue on." I replied, sighing.
But Bruno stopped killing the cat and a grunt resonated in the pit of his throat.
"You gotta a lotta shit witchoo, you know?" he muttered, taking a turn.
"What's that sposed to mean, hah?" I stole a glance at him, only to see that his face was as red as a balloon. Bruno ignored me, until we came to a stop sign and let an old lady cross the street.
"You know, Russo would've sung right along with me. It should be you, not him."
"Don't say that to me, Bruno. You know I feel guilty for what happened, don't you?"
"Guilt ain't gonna bring him back, now is it? Micky you're careless. You always gotta put on a show and walk around like you the boss of everything. Since Pops died, you've been doing whatever the hell you want to do. I ain't going to prison because your ass wanna cut up. The rest of them feel the same way."
"Sos you blaming everything on me, huh? It was my fault that the Nivolas killed Pops. It was my fault he cared about that money so much, he was willing to sleep with the fishes for it, huh? You're saying that all of this is my fault." I was angry now. I could feel it ripping through my veins, making them boil and bust. I couldn't believe it. I've saved this family's ass many times and this is how I got repaid. Getting out of the car, I slammed the door shut and started striding down the street, refusing to look back. Forget Bruno, forget them all. Once I'm gone, they're going to realize how much they needed me. And when it came time for them to bust some caps, they all could fall down for all I cared.
****
I had no home. Every inch of that place reminded me of her. And every time I closed my eyes, I could see her perfectly sculpted body and her alluring skin. She was with me always. The motel on Lennox was the only place I could go. With eighty bucks to my name, I got two nights at The Key and a couple of burgers and fries at McDonald's. The blankets looked moth-eaten and walls were chipping apart and strange stains were dancing across them, like there was some secrets hidden behind them. A couple of roaches lurked around but I let them be, it wasn't like I wasn't used to this.
If anything, the Pisanos were survivors. We knew how to make the best of what we had, and that's what made us the best in the game. My old man used to say "you live some, you die some, but you survive either way." He was a genius and he didn't need no degree or respected name to prove that. The police treated him like scum when there was something worse working the streets of Brooklyn. When somebody was dead, they looked at us and when they couldn't find us, they hunted us like animals. From the slums of New York to the lavish apartments and houses, we've survived everyday of our life and death. Russo may be dead now, but we're still growing strong.
There was one cigarette left in the pack. It took me two days to finish it off. Say what you want, but once you get a taste of heaven, I swear you'll want nothing else. I was lying back on the holey bed, a smoke posted in between my lips, when I seen a shadow pass the sheer curtains. It was tall and broad, a man. His hat was tipped low over his head and his hand was curled around something hard and dark. As I sat up, there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" I slipped the gun I hid on my ankle out of it's holster and moved over to the door. If it was the Nivolas, I wasn't going down without a fight. There wasn't an answer. When I peaked out the window, no one was there. They wanted to play games. Give me some cards or some checkers and I could play along with the rest of 'em.
A cold air ran through the room, making me turn my head. There was only two windows in this place, one in here and one in the bathroom. I moved towards the room, and twisted the knob. Sitting on the toilet, his elbow rested on the sink was, Detective Perry Sherwood. His green eyes were hazed, and a smile was on his lips.
"Can't a man take a shit without someone coming in to disturb him?" he said, chuckling.
I still had the gun pointed at him. His was lying on the floor next to his foot.
"Come on, Micky. I just came here to talk to you. There's no need for weapons, put that away."
"Nah, throw yours out the window first." I replied, shaking my head.
"You know what will happen if you kill a cop, don't you?" And just like that, the smile drifted away from his face and he was standing up. I knew this day was going to come. He thought I killed his pretty little partner, but he had another thing coming. There was no evidence that I was even there. I didn't touch jack, so he couldn't do nothing to me. I felt a little bad for what happened to Maria, but at the end of the day, that broad should have kept her nose out of the war, if you catch my drift? Women had no business fighting, they only got killed off in the end. His hands were on my shoulders now, and he was pushing me up against a wall. He was looking into my eyes. If he wanted to he could kill me but he was too righteous for that.
"Why?" he breathed.
"Why what?" I smirked.
"Don't play dumb with me! You know what you did to Maria. My people found her shot in the back of the head three times. What? She wasn't dead enough for you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about Detective Sherwood, so I think it's best if you leave."
His belly started jiggling, and a laugh so hard and bitter fell from his lips. It smelled of mints and beer. He had gotten wasted before he came here. He must've been following me all day. Bastard. Too bad he did all that stalking for nothing.
"You sposed to be drinking Detective. Aren't you still on duty?"
"Nah, they told me to take a break for a while. You know, to grieve over my partner of nine years."
"Nine years, eh? That's a lot of time to spend with a chick. Have you two ever...you know..." my eyes looked off suggestively, which made him real mad. He looked like a bull he just saw a red cape. I laughed as he threw me on the ground and pulled the gun out of the holster on his belt.
"You did do her didn't you? Man, all this time I thought we had nothing in common. Ha, it's a small world."
"You son of a bitch!" he said, tears burning in his eyes. Detective Perry knelt down and put his cold hand around my throat. I could feel his wedding ring making indentations in my skin.
"My mother wasn't a bitch, but your wife must've been for you to cheat on her like that."
He pressed the gun to my head, and I smiled. I wasn't afraid to die. If he killed me, I'd be a patriot. Everyone would scream my name from the top of their lungs. He was a cop and I was a gorgeous man from Brooklyn who just happened to be going through a tough stage. Yeah, I'd die for our lady liberty and people would finally see that the color blue wasn't nothing but lies and blood. The chill came closer and closer, and I thought for a moment I heard the gun click but it was just his hoarse chuckle. I smiled up at him, and then he eased the hold on my throat.
"You thought I would lose my badge, over you? Man, you're just some Brooklyn scum, a coward."
"A coward, eh?" I asked, looking up at him, smirk prominent on my lips. Fixing my collar, I cracked my knuckles and swung at him, with everything I had. He fell back, and a gunshot rang out into the air, missing me by a centimeter. I could hear him moaning in pain, as I walked towards the door.
"I should shoot you for that, you bastard."
"Go ahead, Sherwood. Maybe it'll bring what's her name back?"
"Go to hell." he spat.
"I'll be glad to. I need a vacation."
