twenty-nine

Griffin stared out the window as he sipped from his beer. Below him was Eddy Street. He could see Ben and Tony down there, sharing a crack pipe. Up near the corner was Old Man Papa, passed out in the gutter. Nothing new there. Regretted his taking the kid at the beach. He shoulda just left her. But he’d wanted the dough, not realizing in the heat of the moment that there was no way to contact the buyer. He’d read the article on SF Gate about Yates. About the bullets. No mention of the kid at least. This was supposed to have been a … what do they call it? Yeah, a “windfall.” It sure the fuck hadn’t happened that way.

The kid started up crying again. Fuck … Got up, went into the room to see what Lazy Suzy was doing.

He walked into the small room to find Suzy trying to tie the kid’s hands behind her back. He came over and swatted Suzy on the ear. Pushed her away. “What the fuck do you think you’re fucking doing?” he asked. “This kid has to arrive safe and sound, all of this a bad dream that will take years and years of therapy to get over. Leave her alone, you hear me?” He turned and looked down at the crying child. His eardrums seemed to break as he picked her up and carried her out to the living room. Put her down on the couch. Petted her head, “There, there ya go … big ugly woman won’t hurt you again. I swear.”

He grabbed up the stuffed animal the kid seemed to want around. A stuffed aardvark. Pushed it at her, then tried to pet her head as best he could. Tried to do it like he was petting a puppy. Same thing, right? Whatever he was doing, it seemed to work well enough. The waterworks stopped, as did that fucking screaming. He couldn’t help but think though: the poor kid; looked wiped out by it all. Griffin went to the freezer and brought back some vanilla ice cream. Gave her the spoon and let her dig into it for a bit. Smiled as she seemed to forget everything in the world except the spoon and the contents in the spoon. He had to laugh: she lapped it up just like a junkie. After awhile he took the spoon away from her. Put her down more comfortable on the couch. He woulda been a good father, he thought, if given half a chance. Drew the blinds. Took a deep breath, and brought his head back into the “here an’ now.” He knew he needed to unload this kid, and like right the fuck away. What the hell was he gonna do?

“I wanna see momma,” she whimpered.

He turned to face her. Looked down at her. Hell, he would’ve been a fucking better father than his old man had been, the abusing cocksucker. Suzy came into the room, eyes glazed, fixed on the kid. Hands worked spasmodically, like someone possessed. He smelled the meth on her. Fucking bitch. Never trust an addict. Dried up old cunt.

“You’ll see your momma, trust me,” he said softly to the little girl, “Your momma will be very happy to see you.”

“And until then, you sit the fuck there,” Suzy slurred as she came forward. Griffin stopped her. Dragged her back toward the bedroom door. “No,” he said quietly so only she could hear, “she will be comfortable as possible. Kept happy, as fucking possible. The people on the other side won’t want some more than necessary freaked-out kid, you got me?”

“She’s a pain in the rear,” Suzy said, her eyes red, face pale. Must’ve smoked a full bowl while in the other room. Wondered where she got it. That fucker Hendrix, probably. Before he croaked.

He grabbed her arm tighter. Spoke more quietly, just above a whisper. “So? We’re gonna take care of her, because there’s money on the other end of the ride.”

Suzy began to say something, but he jammed his hand up under her jaw to keep it shut. She was scared now. He’d shown her enough times what he could do, and the dumb bitch still stepped out of line from time to time. But, this time, she dociled the fuck out quickly. Went limp. Gave in, gave up. “Like I said,” he continued as he released her, “we are going to take care of her. And if you make me have to choose between the two of you?” He looked once over back at the girl. She was watching this exchange, a worried expression on her little face. She’d start crying again if it went on much longer. Griffin leaned in, close to Suzy’s ear, making it look like he was nuzzling it. Whispered to Suzy, “If you make me choose, I will, repeat, will choose her. I don’t need some old, bashed-out useless cum bag. What I DO need is some money, and that kid is money. So shut the fuck up and treat her nice, or I’ll treat you dead. Got it?”

What he got in response was a quickly nodded “yes” from Suzy.

And if in an answer from God, his phone rang. Pulled it from his pocket and checked the number. Didn’t know it. “Hello?”

The answering voice sounded nervous. “Is this … is this the partner to … Karachi?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“The … the … the one this was all for.”

Griffin laughed. “Yeah, fuckin’ right. You just got my number from Karachi after he told you to call? Yeah, right.”

A pause. “Karachi is dead.”

Griffin’s hand tightened a bit more on the phone. “No way. Not him.”

“He was found in his apartment, shot.”

It was too much to deal with. He needed something to calm him down so he could think. “I don’t know why you’re calling me. You have the wrong number.” And he hung up. What the fuck was going on? Karachi was dead? What the fuck? Yates. Hendrix. Now he was thinking he should just put the kid on the street and be done with it. But what if the little kid could give the police enough to go on? What then? Looked over at the couch. At the kid. No, he couldn’t do it. Even if it meant his life, he couldn’t do that.

Suzy asked quietly, “So … this means trouble?”

“Shut the fuck up and let me deal with my thoughts, okay?” His cell rang again. Again. Just like God putting his finger on Griffin’s shoulder. Maybe it’s time for you to take the lead in things, friend Griff? It was the same number as before. Answered the call.

“Please, okay?” the voice said. “We just want what we paid the first installment for. Is that so hard to understand?”

First installment? Griffin thought fast. Shit, this was sounding like there was going to be much dough in this. Much. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about, you know? You’re going to have to be very fucking clear here. What did you pay for?”

“You know.” It was definitive. “What you have in your possession. What we want.” A sigh. “It’s got indoor plumbing. About three feet tall. You need more? Or would you rather me send you a fax?”

“No, no … I get it. Okay. We’re good. Yeah … I got what you want. You paid the first installment. Karachi’s dead. Now that second installment comes to me, so we can close the books on this bullshit.”

“I know how much I was supposed to pay him. I’ll know if you try to make me pay more.” Man, did this dick brain sound like a fish out of water. Was trying so fucking hard to sound “street.”

“And I’ll know if you try to fuck me on the price,” said Griffin. “Karachi told me how much. Look, let’s just get this the fuck over. She wants a home, and I want money. This should be fucking easy, right?”

“Yes. Easy.” A pause. “So … where and when?”

Shit, this guy was lost. Griffin’s mind raced over the possibilities. Where was the best place to meet? Not in the city. Someplace alone. Where no one would be, late at night. Where? Where O fucking where? Then it came to him. Yeah, it would be quiet there. Easy to deal with things if it all went bad. “You know Battery Spencer? Just across the Golden Gate?”

“Yes.” He could almost hear the fuckhead gulping on the other end. He was beginning to enjoy this. Fuck this lame-ass faggot.

“Meet me there in one hour.”

“Okay. I’ll be there. Come alone, though. I’ll bring the money.”

“Be there, on time, or I’ll package this up and dump it in the drink.” And he hung up. Suzy came out of the bedroom. He hadn’t realized she’d gone back in. Eyes redder than before. She glanced at the kid. Hands worked spasmodically. The hair on the back of his head stood on end, actually fucking stood on end when he looked at how Suzy was staring at the little girl. What the fuck was wrong with this bitch?

“You make the deal for it?” Suzy said. Never took her eyes off of the little girl.

“Yeah, we meet in an hour. Across the bridge at Battery Spencer.”

A nod was all he got as she cast one more glance at the little girl who lay curled up on the couch, thumb firmly in mouth, arm firmly holding the stuffed aardvark.

Hell, Griffin thought as he went and retrieved his battered .22, there were worse ways to earn a living. Not that he could think of them at the moment.

–––––

After Mallen’s encounter with Oberon, Gato had driven them right over to the garage around the corner from where Gato shared a flat with his mother. Told Mallen to wait while he went and checked on her. Mallen looked around at the tricked-out classic muscle cars. Whoever Gato’s father had been, he still owed that man a thousand thanks. How many times had Gato’s ability to grab them some new wheels saved them? More than he could count.

Gato came through the side door of the garage. He’d seemed grim since he’d returned from Vegas, but now he seemed like a barely controlled fire. “How’s your madre?” he asked his friend.

“Okay,” came the flat answer. Went over to the 1967 Mercury Cougar. Black as black. Hitched up rear-end. Centerlines.

Mallen thought the car seemed to perfectly match his friend’s mood as he went to the garage door and pulled on the chain that rolled it up with a clang of corrugated metal. Gato started up the engine and the car growled out onto the street. It may be stealth black, but the double headers made it anything but. Mallen lurched under the door as it slammed back down. He then locked the gate and jumped into the car.

“Is that woman you have looking after your mother still working out?”

“Pretty much,” came the flat reply. “Where to, man?”

“My place. I have to get the book and some shit so I can camp out for a while until this is all over. Don’t know what Oberon’s done since he’s woken up.”

Gato’s only response was a quick nod.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. A couple times on the way over he caught Gato mumbling something under his breath. Fingers would tap relentlessly on the steering wheel. Mallen again wondered just what the fuck was up with his friend. He could tell that whatever went down in Vegas, it must’ve been heavy. Very heavy. He owed Gato. He knew that, and embraced it: He’d lay his life down for his friend, as his friend had done for him many, many times.

As they crossed the bridge, Mallen used that moment, as had become his habit, to think about what to do next. The cops were not an option for now. He couldn’t stay at his house. After he got the codebook and flash drive from Mr. Gregor, then what? Gato seemed to be reaching crisis point with all this, and he couldn’t push the man any further. Maybe Chris? Pulled out his phone.

And after the third ring, a man answered. He recognized it. Daniel. “Hello?” the man said.

“Hi Daniel. It’s Mallen.”

A pause. “Hi Mark. You want to speak with Chris?” Guy couldn’t wait to get off the phone with him. Mallen checked his watch. Late. Late and the guy was still there. At least he didn’t sound like he’d been sleeping.

“Yeah, please.”

There was a silent moment. Then there was the hand over the speaker followed by the muffled sounds of people talking. Again. That made him very mad. Again. Jealous mad. But he took a deep breath, reminding himself that he no longer had any claim on the world that was at the other end of this phone. Chris came on the line. “Mark? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it is. Sorry for calling so late, I … ” Tried to think up something, but there was nothing. “I just wanted to know that Anna was okay. That’s all.”

“She’s fine,” Chris answered. “Got another ‘A’ on an art project she did. You’d be proud.”

“I don’t know any other way to be when it comes to her. You’ve done a great job, Chris.”

“No, I mean you’d be out of the ordinary proud of this. She made her first kite, Mark. Received an “A” on it.”

And like any good parent, he choked up. His girl? Got an “A” on a kite she’d made herself? Oh, Jesus fucking Christ … “Seriously?” he replied. “I’m … I, well, I don’t know what to say, except ‘Hell yeah!’” Cringed at that. Almost like they were suddenly playing roles.

“Mark?” she said to him then, “I was going to tell you the next time you came to get Anna, but … well, now I feel I should just tell you.”

His hand tightened on the phone. Here it was. Here it came. “Yeah?” he asked. It really felt like one of those times where God just seemed to want to shovel his shit right down your mouth for an entire fucking day, just for the hell of it. “What’s up?”

Another silence. Man … fuck those goddamn silences, he thought. Just spit out his sentence and he’ll take it like a man. “Chris, what is it? Does it concern Daniel?”

“Yes. Yes it does,” she replied. “Remember what I told you a couple days ago? About the use of the couch?”

Even with all that had gone in his life, fuck yeah he still remembered. Her question also told him the answer. “Not any longer, right?” he said. “That what you want to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for telling me. I really, really appreciate you playing it this way, Chris. Seriously.” He added, trying to put as much a smile into it as he could, “I still get to see Anna just like before, right?”

“Of course you do, Mark. You’re her father, idiot.” But there was humor in the way she said it.

He looked out the window. Gato took the exit into Sausalito. He could tell that his friend had figured out a bit of what happened, just by listening with half an ear. “Anyway, you kiss her for me, and I’ll call in the next couple days to set up some time with her, okay?”

“Okay. Take care.”

And he ended the call. Seemed like it was the time for endings of a sort. This was one thing that sure couldn’t be fixed with a gun or some plan of action. This was beyond his reach now. All he could do is just go with it, as best he could.