Spoiler
Be warned ahead of time there is strong violence and language in the first half of the piece, so know ahead of time and please don't complain about it in reviews. This is a dark, gritty piece, different than my usual work.
"Hey man, you looking to score some flash?"
He smells like shit, like he just went rolling through the Jersey streets without the benefit of saran wrap. I try not to gag. His teeth are stained yellow and his face marred by the remains of age-old acne. He smiles slyly, licking his grime covered lips. His eyes dart back and forth in their sockets as if they realize that they've been placed inside the head of a pathetic individual and are striving to escape.
"Is it good?" I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
The gun at my waist feels like its pulling me down, like I'm hiding a cement block under my shirt. The knife tucked down my jacket sleeve presses against my skin. Its cold steel sends goose bumps across my arm.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clear baggie. White powder rests as a neat little pile in the corner.
I smile. "Looks good.”
"It is."
A second hustler enters from beyond the alleyway and marches up beside me. He's a big one. His bulk towers over the stringy cokehead beside me. His shoulders are carved from rock. His dark eyes rest upon me. "I told you to wait for the money before you showed him the stash. Christ, he could be a fucking narc for all we know.”
"He's got the green, I've seen it. He's cool."
"Green doesn't mean shit, Sam, believe me."
I laugh under my breath.
"You find something amusing about this situation, Mr. Suit?"
I shake my head. "I'm no cop.”
"I'm supposed to take you by your word?"
"That's what men used to do."
"Yeah, well the world's gone to shit since last I checked."
"I'm no cop. Trust me."
I meet his eyes and stare into the black. Nothing moves in the quiet alley.
"Trust me."
My arm is freezing. The knife shakes under the cloth. "I agreed to meet one man. I've met two tonight. Who knows how many more goons you've got tucked up your ass. I should walk away right now, but I'm a business man. I've come here to do business and business is what I plan to do. You've brought muscle, Sam, and thanks to him I now know your name. I don't forget names. I would hate to leave here disappointed with only your name on my mind."
The dealer breathes out slow. His eyes have stopped moving. His hands slide behind his back. The muscle remains still. I take a step towards the dealer.
"Do I scare you, Sammy? Do I make you shake? That's why your hands are behind your back, right? They're shaking. It's okay. It's okay to be afraid. It's what separates us from the animals. Our ability to feel. Our ability to fear. It's what makes us men. And coincidentally, what makes us cowards."
I lean in close, my grin widening. The stringy man turns away. A small squeak escapes his lips.
"Are you scared, Sam?"
The muscle takes me by the arm. "That's enough."
I back away and he relinquishes his grip. I clasp my hands together. "So…do we have a deal? Hmm? We going to behave like civilized adults, no funny stuff?"
"Yeah. Yeah sure," the dealer whispers.
"I'm sorry? You'll have to speak up. I'm a little hard of hearing."
"I said yes."
"Alright."
Sam removes the baggie from his pocket. He opens it and nudges it in my direction. "You want a taste?"
"No, no, don't want to spoil my dinner."
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of bills. "How much?"
"Depends how much you want," Sam replies.
"For all of it."
"Two hundred."
"Pricey."
"You get what you pay for."
I smile and count out the money. "Indeed I do." I pass him the bills.
He's still holding the baggie up to me. I raise my hand and dust away at the wrinkled area where the muscle grabbed me.
"This is my favorite suit," I say as I draw the knife from under my sleeve. They don't have time to react.
I lunge forward, knocking Sam's arm aside, and bury the blade into his underdeveloped gut, wrenching it across in one swift motion. His intestines spill out in a torrent of blood. He clutches his bloodied stomach, hand pressed hopelessly against the slit, and screams.
The muscle stands frozen for a moment, his black eyes wide and confused. Finally he breaks out of the trance and starts forward. I draw the pistol from my belt and fire two rounds into his chest. The sound suppressor lets out a soft hiss as the bullets exit the chamber. The muscle tumbles to the ground.
Sam is still screaming but his voice has weakened, drained from terror and blood loss. "Oh God! Oh God! Jesus, God, Jesus!" he cries.
"Shut up."
"Please God. Oh God, I'm so sorry!"
"I said, shut up!" I say, landing a kick to his chest.
He shrieks once and falls silent save for the whimpers that rise behind pursed lips. I kneel beside him, careful to avoid stepping in the pool of blood. I grab him under his chin and hold the bloodstained knife up with my other hand.
"Listen to me and listen well. I will say this as simply as I can, that way even you should understand. If you scream again I will cut you again. Do you understand?"
His face is white. He shakes uncontrollably. I tighten my grip, fingers digging into his cheeks. He moans in pain.
"Do you understand? Tell me you understand. I need to hear it."
"I—I understand," he whispers.
"Good."
I sigh and glance up at the sky. The stars twinkle high above. "Such a beautiful night. I can't remember the last time I looked up and saw the stars. A beautiful night. Don't you agree?"
"Please—"
"Do you agree?"
"Yes."
"Then why is it that people like you roam the streets? Why can't you just enjoy the world as it is, what we've been given?"
I raise the knife and watch as it glitters in the light of the moon. Slick with blood, it shines.
"Please, you can keep the money! Take the coke! Please."
I shake my head."Silly Sammy, it was never about the money. Not about the drugs, either."
I shove the blade into Sam’s throat and release my grip on the handle. His hands dart up to his neck, scratching desperately at the blade. I slap them away.
"You think I care about the drugs? Drugs are a plague upon this world. You’re the carrier. People like you are the cause. And me, I'm the cure."
I release the dealer. He drops to the garbage covered concrete and thrashes in his death throes. Blood juts forth in a fine spray. I turn and make my way to where the muscle lies. He's still alive. His chest rises and falls with effort, small gurgles escaping as he gasps for air. Blood in the lungs.
He stares up at me, the black orbs still wide and aware. I raise the silenced pistol and shoot him once between the eyes. His chest falls and lies still. I make my way back to Sam.
He's stopped thrashing. His eyes are cloudy. I watch the occasional twitching reflex before bending down to pull the blade from his throat. I tuck the pistol into my waist and remove a white rag from my pocket, wiping the blade clean.
I exit the alley, head raised high, watching the beautiful stars.
***
I pause at the door and check my reflection in the glass window, smoothing out my tie and suit. The door opens with a groan and I shut it behind me, securing all three locks. It's good to be home. I remove my jacket and hang it in the closet. As I close the door something collides with my bottom half.
I glance down to see my daughter staring up at me. Her golden hair falls across her face. Her smile stretches as wide as it can go. "Daddy, you're home! You’re late!" she says, voice filled with glee.
I bend down and pick her up.
"Yes I am, and you should have been to bed two hours ago."
"I couldn't sleep. Besides, I don't have school tomorrow."
"That may be, Sarah, but rules are rules. Did Maggie leave?" I ask.
"Yeah, right after you called, she tucked me in and everything.”
“And you got back up? What am I going to do with you?
I brush the hair from her face to reveal her blue eyes. "You get more beautiful everyday."
"Stop it," she says, poking my chin.
She stops and cocks her head, face screwed up with curiosity.
"What happened to your hand, Daddy?"
How could I forget? I bite back the urge to curse as I glance at the dried blood on the back of my hand. A stupid mistake.
"Don't worry, I'm fine, just had a little accident. Go up stairs. I have to make a couple of calls. I'll come up soon to tuck you in."
"Okay!"
Sarah springs from my arms and takes off, her pink and purple polka dot pajamas rustling as she runs. Two sizes too big, but she loves them. I finish undoing my tie and hang it in the closet.
I enter the kitchen and turn on the faucet. The blood vanishes with a few scrubs, slinking away into the swirling spiral of water. It darkens the color for the briefest of moments before vanishing. I shut the faucet off and dry my hands on a linen dishtowel kept next to the sink.
I pluck the home phone from its charger and dial my partner's number. His answering machine picks up. I wait a few seconds before the beep lets me speak.
"Allen, it's Peter, call me if you can tonight, we need to discuss the details of the McKinley merger. I'm taking Sarah to the zoo tomorrow so I'll be out from about one to six. I'll be home the rest of the day. Call me. Good night." I hang up the phone.
I open the closest drawer and push the cutlery aside. With a click, the compartment beneath the silverware springs up. I remove the tracphone from the opening and cross the room to glance up the stairs. Sarah is still in her room. I make my way back to the kitchen and hit the redial button.
A smooth, female voice answers. "911 emergency, what's your situation?"
I flick the voice scrambler on the track phone's side and speak into the receiver.
"There's been a double homicide. Two men are dead. They're on the corner of 8th and Sanderson, in the back alley of Edward's Pawn Shop. One was shot three times; twice in the chest, once between the eyes. The other was killed by knife wounds, two of them. They were drug peddlers. I'm the killer."
"Sir—" the operator begins, but I cut her off.
"You're welcome."
I press the end button and the line goes dead. I do not worry that I will be found. The line can not be traced. I return the phone to its compartment and close the drawer.
I shut off the kitchen lights and make my way up the stairs. The door to Sarah's room hangs open. She sits atop her bed and rocks from side to side. A poster of SpongeBob Squarepants hangs behind her, another of The Fairly Odd Parents to my left. Her face brightens as I enter the room. I take a seat in the small, wooden reading chair beside her bed.
"Okay, I'm here, and what are you doing on top of those covers?" I ask, feigning shock.
"I was scared."
"Scared? Of what?"
"Of monsters.”
I nod. "Well that's something to be afraid of, but you know there's no such thing as monsters."
"Yes there are!"
"Alright then, where was the monster?"
Sarah raises her hand and points across the room. "In the closet."
"In the closet?" I raise my brow quizzically and stroke my freshly shaved chin as though deep in thought.
"Yeah."
"Why would a monster be in your closet? It's so cramped."
"I don't know. I'm not a monster!" Sarah says with a huff.
I chuckle and tussle her hair. "No you're not. Don't worry, I'll check the closet."
I cross the room and stand outside her closet, my knees bent slightly as if ready to counter an attack.
"Be careful!" Sarah says, covering her eyes.
"Don't worry, I'm a tough guy."
"You're old."
I laugh again and turn away from the closet. "Old? Well maybe an old guy can't check for monsters."
"No! You're not old, daddy."
"That’s better.”
I place my ear to the door like a safecracker trying to discover a combination. Sarah stands on her bed insuring that she can see over my shoulders when I act. I raise my hand and grasp the doorknob, ready to make my move. With a turn, the door swings open on creaking hinges. I peer inside.
"Oh my God," I whisper.
"What?" Sarah gasps.
I let the door swing wide. Inside is Sarah’s collection of dresses, her Finding Nemo backpack, dollhouse and dolls. Everything, save a monster.
"Look how messy this place is."
Sarah grabs her pillow and tosses it at me. I catch it and shut the closet door, making my way back to the chair. Sarah sits with her arms crossed, her head turned away from me, sporting an exaggerated pout. "That was mean, Daddy."
"Oh Sarah, don't be mad, you know I was kidding. You were very brave too."
Sarah glances back over her shoulder ever so slowly, trying to keep a smile from popping up. "Really?"
"Oh yeah, you almost scared me."
"You're kidding again."
"Not at all. You’re a trooper. Now let’s get you back in bed."
I hand Sarah her pillow and pull the covers up to her chin, making sure to tuck the blankets in around her. "Better?" I ask.
"Yeah."
"Okay."
"I love you, Sarah." I lean over and kiss her on the cheek.
"I love you too, Daddy."
"Good night."
I rise from my seat and flip the electrical switch outside the hall. Sarah’s Cinderella-shaped night light casts a thin, pink glow that illuminates the room. I step into the hallway.
"Daddy," Sarah says, her voice still bearing a trace of fear.
I glance back inside my daughter’s room. "Yes?"
"Are you sure there's no monsters?"
"I'm sure."
"Because if there were, you'd kill them," she whispers.
I swallow hard and nod to my little girl. She's so innocent. So sweet.
"Yes. I'd kill them. Now go to sleep."
"Okay."
Sarah lies back and buries herself beneath her covers. I stand in the doorway for a few minutes longer, making sure she is asleep, then turn and shut the door behind me.
