Who Knows?

The shoe digging into my ribs rocks me back to consciousness. My eyes open and I see a cold gray sky above me. A silhouette comes into my line of vision.

“What are you? Everybody’s official knock-around guy?” Jacks extends a hand. I take it gratefully and he pulls me to my feet. I look around, acclimatizing myself to my surroundings. I’m back in the same damn alleyway that the Asian’s guys picked me up in last night. An envelope falls off of my chest and flutters to the ground. I don’t even have to look at it to know what color it is. Mint green. Why would it be any other color? I bend down to retrieve it.

“Levi, what the fuck? I’ve been calling you all night.” My eyes follow the voice and I see Chenille coming around the corner. I swallow the knot of dried saliva that has taken up residence in my throat and I reach for my flask.

“Levi, are you okay?” A second female voice. Megan is coming up the alley now. I feel like I’m on This Is Your Life. Did the Asian send out an APB on my drop-off point? I can feel all three of them staring at me, but I figure that they can wait as I move my dented flask to my lips to take a long pull.

“Introductions?” Chenille says. I can tell without looking at her that her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s got a stern look on her face. I want nothing more at the present time than to punch her in the head.

“Jacks, Megan, Chenille,” I growl. “You figure it out.” I can hear them making with the casual salutations as I tip the flask skyward. After a few swallows, I look down at the envelope in my hand. I’ll open it upstairs.

“Okay, enough with the getting-to-know-you bullshit,” I say. I point at Jacks. “I need to talk to you. Tonight, nine, Blues.” I don’t wait for a response. I don’t have the time. I turn to Chenille. “We’ll talk now, upstairs.” I look at Megan. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”

“Are you okay?” she asks, with something that should sound like irritated concern in her voice. To me, it just comes off as irritating. I have to get her out of here before she starts pouting. I can’t deal with that right now.

“I’m fine. Go home, I’ll explain later.” She nods sullenly and pecks me on the cheek before leaving. I face Jacks again.

“Better idea, you should be in on this discussion,” I state. “Upstairs.”

I fling open the back door of the apartment. Chenille and Jacks follow me up the stairs. I can tell that they’re both waiting to unleash a barrage of questions, but when I open the door to my apartment, Luna beats them to the punch and starts giving me grief. Chenille and Jacks both know that the time for their Q & A session will come soon enough, so they keep their traps shut for the time being. I walk into the kitchen and start dishing out food for Luna before she whines herself into an explosion. She stops whining and starts eating. While Luna is feverishly devouring her food, I lean against the kitchen counter and light up a cigarette. The silence in the apartment is unbelievably satisfying. I take it all in, knowing full well that it’s not going to last much longer. I can tell that Chenille is about to burst, but I keep her waiting anyhow. This is a game we used to play when we were kids. It’s called “who snaps first.”

I turn to the cabinet above the stove, looking for a bottle of rum, before I recall that I drank the last of it before my excursion last night. Looks like I’ll have to rely on my flask. I pull it from my pocket. That’s running low as well. When that’s empty, I may have to resort to rubbing alcohol. I wish my chauffeurs had made a stop by the store on the way home. I walk to my chair and sit down, sinking into the vomit-colored fabric.

“Levi, what the fuck,” Chenille snaps. I win.

“I got picked up by a couple of guys last night,” I start. I point at Jacks. “Remember that job I did for you? The one that came fully equipped with the barrel of favors?” Jacks nods his head and I continue. “Well, this was the opposing team. They think I whacked the guy that they were in charge of. . . .”

“Vincent Bagliato,” Jacks says.

“That’s the guy.”

“Did you?” Chenille asks.

“No,” I reply. “I didn’t, but because of that, I now have a week to find the guy who did plug Vincent and bring him in.” I raise my eyebrows and take another pull from the flask. Jacks is taking all of this in and Chenille doesn’t say anything, she just stares at me. She finally opens her mouth to speak.

“That’s all I know as of right now,” I tell her, cutting her off and answering her question before she can form it into words. I look at Jacks. “Which is why I’m meeting up with you tonight.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Those favors,” I tell him. “I’m calling them in. Every last one of them. I need you to round up some informants. Tell them to be at Blues at quarter after. You be there at—”

“Nine, I remember,” Jacks says, opening the apartment door. “I gotta get moving.” I give him a wave and he exits. Chenille walks to the window and looks out at the alleyway in silence. These are my favorite times with family. The quiet ones spent drinking.

“Who was that floozy?” Chenille asks. “Megan?”

“Yeah, Megan,” I say. “Megan Basset. You went to high school with her.”

“I’ve never seen that girl in my life,” Chenille informs me, turning away from the window.

“Yes, you have. She was always hanging around the house your sophomore year. I didn’t see her much after that. I just assumed you two grew apart.”

Chenille stares at me and shakes her head. “I don’t know that girl.”

“Yeah, you do. That was Megan Basset.”

“I know who Megan Basset is,” Chenille tells me, slowly, like she’s speaking to a mentally retarded kid. “Megan moved out to the West Coast right after sophomore year. Ran away from home with dreams of being a starlet. Wound up a coked-out waste. That’s why you didn’t see her much. That girl down there was not Megan Basset.”

“You must be thinking of someone else,” I state, already feeling a knot growing in my stomach.

Chenille shakes her head. “Levi, my graduating class had three hundred people in it. I remember everyone I went to school with.” She motions dramatically toward the window. “That broad wasn’t one of them.” She grabs my flask from my hand, polishes it off, and then slaps it back against my palm. I sit in silence, mulling over what Chenille just said. There was absolutely no recognition in the alleyway. Chenille’s got a way with names and faces. I try to convince myself that Megan Basset has lost some pounds and maybe had some work done. That would’ve been the easy way out of this dilemma, but the knot in my gut is refusing to let me take that route.

“Levi?”

“I got it, not Megan Basset.”

“Right, but, if she’s not who she claims to be, then who is she? Why is she claiming to be someone she’s not?” Chenille poses the questions as though they’re not already pounding away in my brain. I don’t even justify them with a response. She starts talking again, so her questions must’ve been rhetorical. “Where did you say you met this girl?”

“She got me out of that bind last week,” I reply. “At the gym.” Chenille moves toward the door.

“I’m going to go get some word from the street.”

“Be careful,” I warn her as she exits. “They’re a tough crowd.”

Chenille stops in the doorway. “You forget, brother of mine, that infiltration is what I do best.” She exits the apartment and closes the door behind her. I sit for a moment before I bolt from the chair and launch myself across the room.

“Hey, you better pick me up a handle on your way back,” I yell as I tear open the door. I wait for her response, but she’s already gone. Dammit. There’s nothing worse than working on an empty stomach.