Late Afternoon

The world outside is crisp and serene. I get the feeling that the serenity isn’t going to last long. It never does. Never has, never will.

I can feel the onset of autumn. The cold air is barely starting to move in. It feels nice against my face through the car window. It would’ve been a short walk to the gym, but I figure it’s in my best interest to drive in case I need to get the fuck out of Dodge in a hurry.

Hopefully, I won’t have to hit the ground running. Problem is, it’s never been that easy. I doubt my luck is going to change at this point. I certainly don’t want to let my guard down. I did that once before. When I left Campbell’s employ, it was all because I didn’t agree with the way he wanted me to run a hit. The hit started out just like any other. Someone was turning in state’s evidence and was going to finger Campbell for one thing or another. What the charges were didn’t really matter. What did matter was that, if Campbell got the finger pointed at him, he would be forced to go to trial, and inevitably, he’d go to jail. Campbell obviously didn’t want that, so I was to rub this person out. I was told that the subject would be alone at home and that it would be a simple in-and-out job. I showed up at the house, jimmied the lock, and entered the perimeter. I heard voices coming from the living room, and as I came around the corner, gun leveled and finger on the trigger, I had only a single second to pause before I fired off a round. Campbell had left out a very important detail on the hit, I saw. Sitting in the living room of the house, now looking up at me with wide, wild eyes filled with the ultimate terror any human being can be subject to, was woman in her thirties. Sitting on her lap was a kid. Thankfully, the woman was too spooked to scream. I kept her calm, putting the gun away. I don’t kill women. I don’t kill children. Those are my most important rules. I was going to leave, just turn around and walk right back out the door, but my eyes fixed on the toddler sitting on her lap and I realized that, if I left, Campbell would just send someone else to take care of this job. I told her she had three minutes to grab only the bare essentials for her and her little guy, put them in a suitcase, and put the suitcase in her car. She hesitated for a moment, letting it all sink in, but when she got her bearings, she moved like lightning. Four minutes later, I had her in her car and I told her to drive until she couldn’t drive anymore. She thanked me with a kiss on the cheek and then she was gone.

Just like that, my world turned upside down. Campbell had known that this informant was a woman. I knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt, just as I knew that I was done with Campbell’s employ. I couldn’t work for someone that would kill a dame. Don’t ask me why. It’s a principle. After I watched her taillights fade into the distance, I drove back to Campbell’s place and told him I was through. I really wasn’t sure what to expect in his reaction. I banged into his office packing heat, willing to use it if I had to but hoping I wouldn’t. Surprisingly, Campbell was absolutely passive about my departure. He shook my hand and wished me well, reminding me, however, that, once I left his employ, I was never welcome back. I told him I understood and that was that. Levi Maurice was on his own and everything was kosher.

For a while.

It wasn’t until a couple of months later that I realized how wrong I was. That sly son of a bitch led me right into a trap with his coolness and I was too naïve to realize. Campbell taught me a lot about this life, but the most important lesson came after I left his employ. That’s when I learned that I should always be on point. In this business, death is always just a misstep away. I don’t want to have any missteps when I go to meet Bruiser.

I pull into the parking lot of the gym and kill the engine. I open the door and move my flask to my lips before I get out of the car. Popeye has his spinach, I have booze. The gym seems to be in full swing. I reach up and adjust my shoulder holster under my jacket. Two guns should be enough to subdue the meatheads inside if the going gets rough. I have my drop piece attached to my calf just to be safe. Switchblade in my pocket. You never know what kind of assholes you’re going to meet at the gym.

I wish I had a grenade.

I push open the glass doors and walk inside as two gargantuan men walk out. One of them gives me a look. I reach into my jacket and wrap my fingers around my piece. I grit my teeth, trying to convince myself that they’re not worth it. Apparently, I’m right. They keep walking. They’re nothing more than your average run-of-the-mill meatheads. Don’t need to waste any bullets on them.

I hold the door for a pretty young lady coming in behind me. She smiles as she passes. I can tell by the quizzical look on her face that she recognizes me from somewhere but she can’t place it. For a second, I get the feeling I know her, too, but I couldn’t tell you from where if you put a gun to my head. Or when, for that matter. I’ve met a lot of people and seen a lot of girls. I wouldn’t doubt that I know her, but at this particular juncture, she’s just one of many. I’m sure I’ll recall our connection at some inopportune moment. Until then, I’m content to go about my business as per usual. I follow her up to the front desk.

“Towel?” grunts the ape behind the counter. The girl nods, takes her towel, and makes her way to the treadmill. My gaze trails her skintight spandex shorts as she walks away. Her ass is hypnotic. I could think of a thousand things I’d like to do with it, but I decide to stop there. My mission is to get the scoop on this Bruiser character, not have fantasies about random women I encounter. I can do the latter any day. Preferably a day when I don’t have a contract out on me. I unglue my eyes from the broad’s ass and I step up to the counter. The ape standing there has been staring at me staring at the girl. Now he narrows his eyes at me.

“Whaddaya want?” the ape snarls. I suppose I don’t look like I want a towel. Maybe the leather jacket gives that away. I place my hands on the counter and try my best to be diplomatic.

“I have a couple of questions.” My voice is lowered. The ape lowers his eyebrows so that they’re at the same pitch as my voice, making him look even more Cro-Magnon than he did when I first walked in.

“This ain’t some sort of fuckin’ information booth,” he rumbles. “If you ain’t lifting, then you should probably walk away.”

He sneers at me and moves his index and middle fingers like a pair of thick, hairy legs, motioning toward the door. I grit my teeth and ask myself the same question I always do when I’m looking for simple answers to terribly simple questions. Why do people have to be so difficult? In a way, this has become something of a mantra for me. If I did yoga, that would be what I’d repeat over and over again for the duration of the class. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter how many times I ask myself the question, I have yet to receive an answer and shit never changes. I take a deep breath. So much for doing this the easy way.

I lean over the counter and motion for the ape to do the same. As I suspected, he’s not a bright fellow, so he leans closer. He’s close enough so that I can smell the revolting mixture of Red Bull on his breath and sweat on his skin. My hand darts up and grabs hold of the cartilage of his nose and I pull him even further over the counter. With my other hand, I remove my blade from my pocket and place the tip under his jaw. I hope no one in the lifting area can see this. If I’m playing my cards right, it looks like we’re having an intense private conversation. I don’t need all those gorillas on my back. Unfortunately, I can’t risk taking a glance over my shoulder to see if the people beyond the chest-high wall that divides the reception area from the lifting area are watching. That would blow what little cover I have. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have by being the only guy in this place that’s not wearing jogging pants and sweating profusely. I gotta be fast with this interrogation.

“You’re not a pretty man,” I whisper to him, “and if you don’t start cooperating, you’re going to be getting a whole hell of a lot less pretty. Do you follow?” The ape nods as best he can. I stick the blade into his chin a little harder to illustrate my point. He winces. I can see that he knows I’m not messing around. I can also see that he’s scared by the beads of sweat that have started popping out on his caveman forehead.

“You ain’t gonna walk out of here alive, shithead,” he whispers. The ape’s threat is missing the edge that he’s going for due to the hushed tone he’s forced to use. Apparently the knife blade is doing what I want it to do. He’s angry enough to keep talking to me like he’s not scared, but at least he’s doing it quietly.

“That’s a chance that I’m taking, isn’t it?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer, just stares a hole through me. “So, I’ll deal with that on my own. Now, I’m looking for a guy who goes by the name of Bruiser. You heard of him?”

“I don’t know anyone named Bruiser.” I can tell that the ape is lying by his blatant lack of profanity. I pull on his nose and dig the knife in a little deeper. Small beads of blood drip onto the countertop. He winces and inhales sharply. The muscles in his neck tense up.

“I’m going to give you a second chance. One more chance to come up with the correct answer. Bruiser. Heard of him?”

The ape seems to be reviewing his options. I put a little bit more pressure on the knife, hoping that might remind him that this is the only option he needs to think about right now.

“Yeah, I heard of him. He ain’t fucking here right now.”

I roll my eyes. This is taking far too long, “Where is he?”

“How the hell should I know, asshole? He had the day off. Said he had some shit to take care of.” The ape is coming clean. Good for him. Hell, good for me.

“When’s he here next?”

“He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“When?”

“In the goddamned morning.” Tears are starting to well up in the ape’s hate-filled eyes. It’s time to make a break for it before he causes a scene.

“I’m gonna let you go,” I tell him, “but before I do, I need you to make me a promise. You gotta promise me that you’re not going to call Bruiser. You’re not gonna inform him that I was here. In the swing of things, you never saw me. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

I nod. “If you do tell him, I’m going to find out, and when I find out, I’ll make sure that the next time I come in here, you’ll find my knife digging deeper and faster into your other head.” I lower my eyes to make sure that he knows what I’m saying. He follows my gaze.

“So,” I continue, “you better make certain that you got it. For your sake.”

“I fucking got it.”

I narrow my eyes at him and give the knife one final push. “Good. Now I’m going to walk away. You’re going to pretend this never happened. You’re just going to grab a towel and get yourself cleaned up. I’m sure you can find a Band-Aid.” He blinks and I release his nose. I pull my knife back. I close the blade and return it to my pocket. The ape grabs a towel and shoves it under his bleeding chin. He sets his jaw and glares at me. I point at him.

“Don’t forget,” I tell him. “I’ll be back here tomorrow.”

The ape nods. I walk out the door and head for my car without looking back.

“Levi? Levi Maurice?”

Shit. I haven’t even made it ten feet from the entryway. All I know is that I’m not going down without a fight. I grab hold of my gun and turn around, ready to unholster and shoot. Thankfully, I don’t have to. The person who said my name is the girl with the great ass that I held the door for. I let go of my gun and take my hand from inside my jacket. Shit, I’m getting jumpy. Adrenaline was kicking in and I’m not paying as much attention to detail as I should be. If I had been, I would’ve known that the voice was too high to be a thug.

“Yeah?” I respond, not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Without knowing who this girl is, it makes it a difficult dance. I’d obviously speak to her differently depending on if she was a random girl I brought home from the bar or if she was one of my marks’ widows. I’m hoping it’s the former. That would be a nice little gold star on my report card.

“I knew you looked familiar” She laughs. I feel like a fool. Should I know this girl? Is she a floozy from the bar? All I know is that she is incredibly attractive. She’s even better to look at from the front. Her toned body is glistening with sweat. Her sports bra is cut low and the cleavage that’s out to say hello is outstanding. I want to eat ice cream off of her perfectly flat abs. I let my imagination run wild for a moment or two, fully picturing what it would be like to have her tan, shapely legs wrapped around my lower body. If I had been with this girl, I would most definitely remember. My brain would never let me forget that. So where the fuck do I know her from? She cocks her head as if reading my mind. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. I decide that it’s in my best interest just to be straightforward. I can’t see myself having anything to gain from lying, because I would most definitely be caught immediately, seeing as how she knows my name and I can’t even think of a guess as to what her name is. She laughs again and puts her hands out to her sides as if to show herself off. “Megan. Megan Basset!”

“Chenille’s friend,” I mutter. I would’ve never guessed that in a goddamned million years, but now that she said that, I don’t feel quite as foolish. Chenille is my kid sister. She moved to New York a few years ago for work. Megan graduated with her. I quickly do the calculations in my head, realizing that she must just be over twenty-one. She was a forgettable kid when she was palling around with my sister, but she’s definitely become a knockout since then. I’m just about speechless, but I manage to string some words together so I don’t just stand here staring at her like a fiend.

“I didn’t even recognize you,” I admit. “You’ve certainly grown up.”

“Right.” She giggles. “How are you?”

“I’m doing—” I start to respond when two events unfold simultaneously: A black car squeals into the parking lot and the front door of the gym bursts open. As all of the gorillas inside make their way toward my general direction, I know that the ape has broken his word. Well, it appears that catching up is going to have to wait until another day. I look at Megan.

“I’m doing a whole lot worse than I should be right about now,” I tell her. The passenger-side door of the black car opens. I watch in awe as a massive, hulking beast of a man emerges from inside. They must’ve used a shoehorn to wedge him inside. I can only assume that this must be Bruiser. In his hand, he holds a sawed-off shotgun.

I reach out and push Megan in the general direction of my car. “Get in the backseat of the Lincoln and lay down.” Confusion spreads over her face, but she does as she’s told. I can’t see her disappear into the car, but I no longer care, so long as she’s out of the way. Obviously Bruiser doesn’t either. She’s not gone for a split second before he levels the shotgun at me. I reach into my coat with both hands and unholster both guns as he pulls the trigger.

I leap to the side, narrowly escaping the shotgun blast. I fire my guns. Bruiser is a lot faster than I expect him to be. He dodges the bullets and spins toward me, firing the shotgun a second time. The bullets shatter the gym window behind me. As I hit the ground and slide, I’m glad that I wore my leather jacket. This would’ve hurt a lot more if I didn’t. I come to a stop against a concrete parking bar. I look straight ahead of me and see the gorillas from inside. They’re only a few feet away. I don’t even have time to prepare as they advance on me. I roll underneath the car nearest to me and start firing my guns as fast as I can. All I can see is the spray of blood as the ankles of the men explode. This halts the mob for a few seconds and gives me just enough time to assess the situation. Get to the car. That’s all I can come up with before they’re on the move again. Get out of here.

Sounds like a plan to me.

I roll out from beneath the car on the side opposite the mob. I get to my feet and stay low. I’m disoriented. Before I can remember where I parked, the windows of the car I’m behind burst outward. The glass falls like hail. I slam my back against the car and scan the lot for my car. My eyes settle on the green Lincoln. It’s a good thing I backed in: getaway parking. Two rows over and three spaces down. I can make it.

I remain leaned against the car for another moment, using it as a temporary shield. The wound in my arm from earlier in the day has reopened and is screaming like a banshee. My shirt is covered in blood. My face and hands are cut from the raining glass. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed if I make it out of this alive. I reload my guns and crack my neck. Here we go.

I spin off the car. The bullets fly from my gun. I can’t see where they’re going until they hit someone or something. Some of the gorillas fall, clutching at the pain I’m inflicting. One grabs his neck. Another wraps his arms around his gut. Another, his arm. I see the windshield of the black car spiderweb when a bullet hits it. Was it one of mine or one of theirs? I don’t know. I can’t stop to find out. I gotta think like a shark: If I stop moving, I’ll die. I don’t wanna do that today. Bruiser tosses his shotgun aside and pulls a monstrous handgun from his belt. He levels it at me and pulls the trigger. I move out of the way just in time as the bullet tears through the side of the pickup truck behind me.

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

I make it to my row. I’m all out of ammo. Can’t stop to reload. What’s left to do? I race toward my car as more gunshots start up behind me. They miss. So far so good. Only a few feet left to go. I just have to make it to my car. Then I’m in the clear. For now. I’m steps away from the car. I’m all set to get cocky.

That’s when the bullet hits me in the thigh.

My leg jerks out from under me. I can see the sky and the front of my car at the same time. I feel my head collide with the asphalt. I can taste blood in my mouth. I know I’m on the ground but I feel like I’m flying. I can’t stop moving yet. I know I can’t. I roll onto my stomach and crawl toward the driver’s-side door. The world is starting to spin and the edges of my vision have gone jet black. I can feel the blood from my head raging down my neck. I can’t feel my left leg. I make it to my door. All I have to do is get inside. I reach out for the door handle. It feels like I’m underwater. Everything is moving so slow.

“We got him, Bruiser.”

The voice is coming from behind me. I roll onto my back. It’s the ape from the front counter and two other meatheads. Game over. The ape looks toward Bruiser.

“What do you want me to do with this pile of shit?”

I can hear Bruiser saying something, but it sounds garbled, so I focus on something else. I slowly maneuver my right hand down my leg to my ankle. One last chance. My drop. I can feel it between my fingers.

“Bring him to me.” Bruiser’s words filter into my head. The ape nods.

“I’m on it.” As he turns back to me, the gun releases from my ankle holster and I bring it up just enough to train it on the big man. It takes a second for him to comprehend and then his eyes go wide with shock. I force a smile.

“I don’t have time to use my blade.” I fire the gun, one shot, into his genitals. He shrieks and falls to the ground, holding his crotch. The other two brutes lean in to grab me. I don’t even give a shit at this point. I’m just glad I took that ape out. And all of his future generations. If nothing else, at least I know he got his.

Before the brutes get to me, the car door swings open. The two guys have leaned in just enough to catch the door dead on in the face. They stumble backward and fall over the ape in a heap. Megan jumps from the car and kneels beside me.

“Can you drive?” she asks. I try to say yes, but the words won’t come out in any form of language that she’s used to hearing. She grabs me underneath my arms. “That would be a no.” She pushes and shoves me into the car. I’m not really any help and her pushing is making the gunshot in my arm feel like a red hot poker. Bruiser fires his gun just as Megan jumps in the car and slams the door behind her. She fishes in my pocket and finds the car keys. Another shot. She’s in the driver’s seat firing up the car. She revs the engine. She throws the car in drive and slams the pedal down. The tires squeal and we shoot straight through the parking lot. We bounce over what I hope is a meathead, but I assume it’s only a curb, and we’re on the street. I can hear shouting and gunfire. It’s fading fast. We’re home free.

“Where are we going?” Megan asks. It sounds like she’s speaking from the bottom of an ocean of static. I take as deep a breath as I can muster. As a rule, I don’t trust anybody I come across. Everyone’s always after something and no one ever does anything out of the goodness of their heart. Especially the women I encounter in this business. “Levi?” Megan’s voice sounds scared and flustered. She did take out those guys that were going to put the hurt to me back there. That scores her some brownie points. Besides, I’m bleeding out pretty bad. Looks like my options are slim. It’s either trusting her or kicking off. I suppose the former is easier than the latter.

“Downtown,” I muster finally, barely coherent. “Jardin . . . Flower shop.”

I slouch against the doorframe as Megan rounds a corner. My head hits the window and I’m staring at the passing scenery. Everything is gray.