It was a cold night. Heavy
smog made the air taste of copper and it stained Charlie’s nostrils
– he snorted lightly as he ran. The rhythmic thudding of his feet
upon the sidewalk went in perfect tandem with puffs of hot air that
blasted out from his maw that billowed up and away into the night
air.
Of course you forgot
again…
God dammit, Charlie.
~You better know who
this is from.
Even with the bar in
sight, he still couldn't help but wince. With all the recent events
with his family, his own brother hassling him for what seemed like
higher and higher rent left more and more exhaustion on his
shoulders. Yet even then, this was the third time, for the same
reasons he managed to forget. At his own bar. She had every right to
be angry with him, but hopefully she would be there waiting for him
like all the times before.
His feet flew up the
short steps to the door, his hand jammed the key into the lock,
twisting it and shoving the door inward. Fighting to loosen the key
from the door, the loud grinding from the key echoing into the empty
room, he began to ramble. “Look, Shae, I'm so sorry – ” Facing
towards the counter he was met with darkness, her slim hourglass
figure nowhere to be seen. Slowly he let his keys collapse back into
his pocket as he took a few good strides. The door lightly clicked
shut behind him. Luckily the place had some good windows on the east
side of the building that let in a bit of light and bathed his pride
and prison in soft cream, though at that moment the dust tumbling
through the air gave it a gray hue.
Everything still smelled
the same; the musty old place had been here for decades, although
times had been better at its founding. Now it was just like every
other watering hole in the ghetto. Even with keeping the place as
mold-free as possible and offering higher grade booze to his
customers, the rent was tearing any kind of face-lift funds right out
of his desperate fingers. The walls had cracks running along them
like spider webs, and though Charlie's feet danced along it, the
hardwood floor was uneven and dipped in odd places. But he’d been
practically raised here, and the bar brought him a sense of home,
even with the rats chittering in the walls.
His eyes scanned over the
worn down tables and the chipped chair legs that were thrown up into
the air haphazardly from their sloppy stacking. He neared the counter
and in the glint from a street light saw a crystal glass shimmering
on the far end. He could feel his back begin to twitch, a twitch that
ran down into his finger tips as he peered into the glass. Nothing
but cold rock remained. Huffing deeply, he felt the tension slip from
his neck as he pressed his side into the counter, ran a calloused
hand up and through his hair, and found himself looking back to the
front door.
Not being one for
patience, he lightly walked forward, his side hugging the smooth edge
of the wood and sliding right into the landing behind the rugged bar
top. He noted that everything was all squared away, just the way Shae
liked it, though Saul would dishevel it all by dinner time. A smirk
tugged at his lips as he recalled meeting the bartender for the first
time. They’d just been kids back then. He’d been ousted out of
his birth right for murdering his mother during his birth, and his
elder brother was now the loyal servant to the mob, while Saul had
been given up for collateral to a rival gang that managed to get
snared in deep debt with his father.
He pulled out a bottle
of whiskey, twirled the aged bottle in his hand and, not wanting to
dirty a glass, snatched the one waiting for him on the counter.
Playfully swinging the glass in front of his nose to get a good whiff
of Shae's feminine concoction of orange juice and vodka, his thumb
popped the cork off the top of his favorite malt. He almost dashed in
his whiskey without a thought, yet his arm froze from a lingering
harshness emitted by the glass. The scent was much too pungent for a
simple screwdriver.
Scrunching up his nose,
he tipped the glass back and took a chunk of ice into his mouth. As
he crushed the ice into shattered splinters, his eyebrows began to
narrow in confusion. This was pure hard vodka. Shae was too much of a
proper bitch for this. But Saul had already closed everything up, so
the ice should have melted by the time Charlie arrived. It left a
squirming feeling deep within his gut. In all of his life running
this bar since he was a preteen, he would find a forgotten glass on
the counter, long abandoned, but never fresh like this one.
Gingerly setting the
glass back down, he glanced around, swished the sharp liquid around
his tongue, wiped his hands on his stained shirt, and let out a
muffled, “Saul!”
He took a few steps back
and let his spine open up the kitchen area, spinning lightly on his
heel as the cool melted froth slid down his throat. “C'mon, I know
you're here, what the fuck?”
Glancing around the
small, white, tiled room, he was only met with off white bins and an
empty stainless steal tub that had the nozzles broken off of it.
Turning to his left, he saw the cellar door and the small fold-out
table they all would play a good game of poker on after closing. Saul
had a good poker face, though Charlie always managed to have all the
luck. Sindy would have his ass if he knew they dipped into the booze,
though it wasn't like he was around long enough to pilfer the coffers
and hobble off like the pompous pig he was. Owner or not, he had very
little interest in the scheme of things. It left both the boys to
their own devices, resulting in many scars and hard lessons.
His hands found
themselves back up into his hair nervously as his body fully faced
the cellar door. He’d always hated it down there, even as a child.
As if it was full of the worlds dark secrets, thrown and locked away
in the crumblings of what used to be a fortuitous city. It was as if
the darkness pulled him forward by his very hands, and before
realizing it, he swung the door open and gazed down at the dry,
rotten wooden steps below.
“Saul..? Shae..?”
Surprised to hear his voice waver, he quickly cleared it and stepped
down onto the board and was met with a creak from the wood. “You
better not be pranking me. This isn't cool.”
An odd smell hit Charlie
as he continued down; apart from the heavy cotton taste of dust, it
smelt like fear. Cold, dank, and tumor-ridden. The shadows themselves
were heavy. Lightly stepping down onto the compacted dirt floor, his
eyes adjusted ahead of him, seeing a sprawled figure. A soft snarl
started to curl up his lips; he could feel his muscles tense up under
his shirt and he took a hesitant step forward, his feet scuffing up
the dirt noisily.
“Hello..?” A growl
wormed its way up, gripping his throat.
The shadows were draped
over the lump on the floor, though the closer he drew the stronger
the odd scent became. Soon the taste of copper stained his tongue and
nostrils, and he suddenly realized who it was. He yelped out her name
and pushed off his feet to close the gap. A harsh gust of wind
whipped the back of his head, and as he grabbed Shae's shoulders, he
clenched his teeth tightly together, baring them like an animal while
twisting his head back.
Standing, silhouetted
against the soft dulled light, was a slender figure, its eyes ablaze
with treacherous sickness. Clouds of dust swirled around the figure
as he grasped onto a large metal pipe, the light glinting off of it
just perfectly to show odd dark and light patches. No rust.
A deep rumbling echoed
off of the cement walls: “Charlie…”
“S-saul..!?” He could
feel his fingers digging into the soft white skin of the girl beside
him, his eyes widened and skin crawling. He
almost hit me…
Light
continued to trail and spark off of the metal pipe as Saul's arms
relaxed at his sides, the top of the beam almost resting down onto
the floor. His chest was heaving lightly, but his voice was as smooth
as ever. As it had always been.
“What are you doing
here, Charlie?”
“W-what in the hell is
going on, Saul!? What's happened to Shae? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” His
barking was more of an order, his body straining to comprehend what
was happening. He couldn't take his eyes off of Saul, he couldn't
check on Shae, he could hardly breathe.
“You're no idiot,
Charlie.”
Watching his friends lips
move in slow motion, Charlie's heart pounded frantically against his
ribcage.
“You see,” he lifted
up the pipe and spun it slowly in his hand, “we all have to mark
our place here. To have freedom. We aren't all born the mobsters
bastard son--”
“What does this have to
do with her?! Were you jealous?! Jesus Christ, Saul--”, a swift
kick to the face sent his jaw clacking loudly shut. A sharp pain and
hot liquid filling his mouth as his teeth cut down into his tongue.
He slowly brought his head back up again as the metallic tasting
liquid dribbled out over his lips and pattered down onto the thirsty
earth beneath him.
“I
wasn't done,” murmured Saul. Sucking in a hissing breath, Saul
grinned, his lesson obviously sinking in as the silence graced the
small dirt hovel, though he still paused, taking in the situation as
his facial muscles twitched and twisted. “I'm a hitman, Charlie.”
He held out his arms as the words pushed from his lungs, admission
finally washing over the room. “Me. A poor little prick who was
given away by Mommy for collateral so Daddy could buy his new BMW.”
Charlie sputtered as
blood trickled at the back of his gums, and he spit a good bursting
gush out onto the floor. As a few coughs racked his body, he tried to
wipe the gunk from his lips with his forearm but only ended up
smearing it all over himself, painting his creamed skin red. Saul
waited patiently, like a gentlemen.
“I had to make myself
useful, Charlie-boy. They liked my poker face, you even commented on
that before. You remember, don't you? I'm sure you do.” A soft
chuckle graced his face. “Bitches don't even know what was going on
until my thumbs crush through their Adam’s apple. They're so
fragile.”
Saul began to pace slowly
in front of the crumpled mess before him. Charlie's stare remained
cold, vacant. He was a mouse in this cat's claws. This wasn't his
friend – the mobster craze had hazed his mind and turned him into a
demon. Why Saul, not you too…
“It's been awhile,
Charlie. I just couldn't pass
it up.” Saul's voice began to tremble to a whimper, like a toddler
being refused a sweet. “She smelled so fresh, and those eyes…
they kept staring at me, into me.
All of these years, and I finally gave in. She was enjoying it so
much.”
“You're insane.”
“You used to always
have all the luck. The bitches. The protection.”
The pipe was now pointed to him, hovering inches from Charlie’s jaw
as a hoarse cackle strained out of the mad dog’s lungs.
“P-protection?” More
hacking clogged his words until it was shot back out onto the floor,
yet he still struggled to continue. “Saul, what are you talking
about?”
“NOBODY could kill you.
Not even Daddy could curb stomp your fucking
little head into the dirt and be rid of you.
You looked too much like her, apparently.” Charlie was agape.
Saul's eyes were flicking about, pupils dilated, and a light streak
of blood dripped from his friend’s nostrils. The crack had only
been a catalyst, although who know how long he’d been licking into
his own product. “You. You always had the luck!”
Charlie
didn't even have time to react; the metal pipe came down onto his
back with a loud reverberating thud. A choking gasp shocked his
insides and sent him to his hands, his body leaning over the petite
waitress as mucusy red streams poured from his lips and nose. His
eyes stung harshly from the hot biting liquid now coating his
sinuses. He's going to kill me. A
flash of rage began to intermix with his pain, yet his body remained
frozen, his joints iced over by fear and confusion.
“You would have found
out my little secret sooner or later. Sure we grew up together,
Charles. But we was just kids. Now we are men. The ghetto, the mob…
they don't appreciate us. But they need you; they don't need me. I
gave them a reason to need
me. And it's been a good run until now.”
Charlie slowly turned his
crumpled form towards Saul while staying low to the floor. A hand
smearing more of the red ooze into his trembling skin, he managed to
block out the blood and focused in on the pipe; he had to survive. It
was always about survival. Against his blood brother, against his
Father, and now even against his partner in crime. Tears began to
slip down his cheeks; he’d never thought his best friend would
succumb to the evils of the world.
“Now I have to kill
you.”
