To My Readers

The book is on a temporary hold. Life just gave me a kick in the nuts, but I’ll hopefully be writing again soon. Thanks for your continued support.

Michael

11) Origins pt. 2 (continued)

I opened my eyes, reality taking a few seconds to set in. The first thing I saw was a cold gyro on an open piece of foil. I raised my head, the feeling causing a small wave of dizziness. I was in the deli in Greek town, not in Cabrini Green anymore. Leanne sat across from me sipping her soda, the look on her face one of concern. “How…” I tried to speak, but my voice came out as a crackle. I cleared my throat and tried again. “How long was I like that?”

“A little while. Just looked like you were sleeping. Nobody paid you much attention.” I looked around, trying to shake the cobwebs from my head, but it wouldn’t work. Too much was there, everything had a haze to it in my mind, and trying to put everything together felt like trying to run in water. “Did you remember everything?”

“No,” I said. “Last thing I remember was calling Smoke to start working for him. I can’t…” I closed my eyes, trying to focus, but the haze filled in again. “I can’t remember past that. The next thing I remember is my flight to Phoenix.”

“Come on.” She stood, and I followed. I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but walk behind her. In a dreamlike trance I got into her car with her, and she drove me back to her house. I sat in the passenger seat, my head against the window and stayed silent for the ride, trying to pull out whatever was stopping my memories. I squinted, my efforts causing my headache to amplify.

We got to Leanne’s house and I followed her inside. She walked me up to her bedroom. “Why don’t you take your shoes off and lay down.” I did, unable to function much beyond that. She had pulled back the covers, and I slid myself onto the mattress and laid on my back. Nausea rolled over me, but I fought off the urge to vomit. The guys were going in full force, telling me to stop, to back down. I couldn’t, though. If I stop, He wins. “Michael, you sure you want to do this? Repressed memories are repressed for a reason.”

I didn’t even bother to open my eyes. “It’s not repressed, it’s HIM, fucking HIM! Torturing me. Maybe trying to make me crazy so he can take over, I don’t know, but I can’t just live like that. What if he starts blocking GOOD memories?”

“But these aren’t good memories. These are bad memories. Let it stop, just go to sleep for a while. I’ll lock you in here.”

“No. What happened next? I talked to Smoke about working for him, he said we would put something together…”

Leanne hesitated for just a moment, then spoke. “That was it. The following week you went to meet him. He was a skinny black guy in his 20s wearing a white jump-suit. He gave you a pager and…”

I wasn’t dreaming, it was more intense than that, more real. Just like before, I wasn’t having a memory, but living in my past again. I stared at Smoke, his face a road map of old acne scars, and he handed me the pager. “I’m the only one gonna call you on this, yo. Number shows up on the screen, you got 10 minutes to call me. You gonna run some shit back and forth across the city for me. You got a gun?” I shook my head. “Prolly don’t need none, just curious. Nobody likes fuckin’ around with Big Man’s shit, so you should be fine. I’ll get ya money when I figure out how much I’m makin’. Cool?”

“Yeah, man. Very cool.”

“Might wanna buy you a bike or something, get around the city little better than catchin’ the L or the bus. I’ll call ya in a day or two, prolly.”

I took the pager and went on my way, trying to figure out where to get a bike. I traveled inside the city, just another kid walking in downtown Chicago. Watching. Seeing everybody but not looking at a single person. So quickly I had adapted myself to this way of life. It came easy, as if it was exactly what I was meant to be.

I didn’t buy a bike. I eventually caught a bus that took me close to home, and went in to find Belle. I didn’t tell her about my new side-job or about Smoke. I wasn’t sure how well T would handle me getting involved with things like that. A few other guys had mentioned joining gangs, and there was apparently a strict no-gang policy in Hotel C. T believed that if any of us joined individual gangs, the trouble would eventually spill into this place and he couldn’t allow it. I didn’t look at it like I was joining a gang, but you never know how somebody else would feel, especially if they think the safety of their home is involved.

Two days later, I was in the lobby playing cards with some other kids when I felt the pager vibrating in my pocket. I threw my backpack on and headed outside, walking a block away to a pay phone. I popped in my quarter and dialed the number that came up. Smoke answered. He told me where I needed to show up. There was a building on the Southside. When I got there I needed to wait by the corner. He’d watch for me and come out. I did as instructed, catching one bus to get into town, and another to get to Southside. I walked a few blocks then stood on the corner. He came out of the building, looked around, then put something pretty heavy in my backpack. He told me the address I needed to deliver it to. “No bike yet?”

“Nah, man. I like walkin’, like ridin’ the bus.”

He shrugged. “Whatever little man. Be back with my money by dark. I got plans tonight.” I left, caught a single bus that took me close enough to where I needed to be. At the rate I was going, I would soon have the entire bus schedule for every bus in the city memorized. Leaving the bus, I headed down two streets and made a left. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but not a great neighborhood either. As I made my left turn, a car door opened. It was a little Honda Civic, painted white. The man in the driver’s seat gestured me over. I looked around and went to him. He held out a lunch box with some cartoon figures on it that I didn’t recognize and smiled. I slid the backpack off and opened it, trading him the box for the bag that had been in there. He nodded and threw it on the passenger seat. I backed away, he shut the door and drove off without saying a word. I put the lunchbox in the backpack and headed back to Smoke.

When I got to the corner by the building, I ended up waiting over half an hour before he noticed me out there. We briefly discussed a system to let him know I’m there, which as stupid as it sounds was me throwing rocks at the third window from the front. He opened the lunchbox, smiled and told me “Nice job, Michael. Here, buy yourself something nice.” Then he handed me two hundred dollars. He then walked away, finishing with “We gonna work well together, little man. I won’t make ya rich, but I’ll make ya comfy.” I stood there staring at the money. Two hundred dollars, four-fifty dollar bills in my hands. The work was easy, took no time at all, and seemed a lot less risky than picking pockets, and a lot better than begging or doing street tricks like some of the kids did. You’d never see me beating on buckets for cash, not since I found this. I was a mule, and I was okay with it.

The next day, I woke up early and went to the lobby to find Belle. She wasn’t there yet, so I headed down to her place. When I got there, I walked in (her mom was always so gone it didn’t matter) and Belle was sleeping on the couch. I woke her up with a kiss. “Good morning.” She smiled and hugged me. “What brings you by so early?”

“Thought maybe we could spend the day together. Like…maybe a date?”

“I’d like that.” she said, and she got dressed while I took a quick shower, then I threw on some clothes and we headed out. We jumped buses and I took her down to Navy Pier, which is a real pier but it’s used more as an entertainment center at the border of the city and Lake Michigan.

It was the greatest day of my life. I got to feel like a real kid, on a real date. We were carefree and it was beautiful. We rode the ferris wheel, laughing together the whole time. We took a sight-seeing tour on a boat that went along the coast of the city, holding one another loosely, just taking comfort that we were together. We ate funnel cakes, played games and walked around looking at all the shops that lined the pier. Everything that entire day was perfect. Before we left, I went into the restroom near the shops, and when I came out Belle was waiting for me, smiling a very shy smile. To look at her in that moment, you’d never know her mom was a junkie, never know that she lived her life on the streets. She looked like any other kid on the pier. I walked up and asked her what she was smiling for. “I got you a little something…” she said, and pulled a necklace from behind her back. It was a woven cord necklace with a silver-looking tiger hanging down. “I saw it and thought of you; A quiet tiger, but when you act its brutal.”

She had said the words with a sexual draw on them, and I realized she wasn’t just talking about my handling of Paulie P, Aces and Jackson, but of our many make-out sessions as well. I blushed.

In my semi-dream state, I felt my body clench all at once; I could feel my fingernails gripping into my palms, sweat forming on my head. Her words kept repeating themselves “A quiet tiger, but when you act it’s brutal.” over and over again. Then it was finished and I was once again reliving my past.

I put the necklace on and kissed her, soft and slow right there for the world to see. When we pulled back I could notice a few people walking by shaking their heads, obviously not appreciating the public show of affection between a couple of teenagers. Our date over, we held hands and headed back to Hotel C.

*****

I fell into my role with Smoke and quickly had a grasp on the scope of what I was doing. At any given time, I was moving between five and ten thousand dollars worth of drugs for him. I kept Belle out of the loop as long as possible still, not because I didn’t trust her but figuring if I got caught she really could plea ignorance and still be allowed to stay at the hotel. The first few weeks of doing those deliveries was going perfect; I had money in my pocket, I got to buy things for Belle all the time and I was stashing money away. I had bought a little lockbox that I kept in my room. In the far corner by the window, I was able to peel the carpet up and take out a board, and that’s where the spare money went. Belle never got to see that, either.

My birthday came around, and I didn’t really care. I had never cared for birthdays. I had spent a few with foster families that tried to do the cake and ice cream and presents gig, but for the most part even those felt fake and forced. I didn’t plan on this one being anything special either. I was wrong.

On the morning of my thirteenth birthday, I woke to find Belle standing over me. “Come on, Michael. It’s already 10, there’s only 14 hours of birthday left!” I laughed and kissed her, then got dressed. We went down to the lobby, but when I walked in it was quieter than I was used to. A quick scan of the room told me why.To my left against the wall, halfway between the front and the back of the building, stood Jackson. He was talking with Paulie P and Aces and a few other guys. Off to my right Slick T and some guys were talking, and I heard phrases like “…better watch his back…” and “…hope the kid makes it…” and “…Michael be tough, man, those boys won’t play though…” I set my jaw firm, put on the face that got me through tougher times in life, and started walking with Belle in tow to the front door. I figured these guys wouldn’t attack me in the open like this and I was right, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the looks on their faces. Paulie P and Aces were just waiting for Jackson to come back, and now he was here. Things like this are the reason God and I don’t talk. I don’t know if I’m an atheist or not, but I figure if there is a God, he thinks shit like this is funny, in which case I don’t like him. Jackson had to show up on my birthday.

The look on their faces was murder, clear as anything I’ve ever seen. Raw hatred poured from them and hit me like a physical force. I didn’t let it sway me, though. My right hand slid down to my pocket, feeling the curves of the knife in there and I kept walking.

Belle took me out for my birthday. We left the hotel and headed into town. We went to the park, ate at a decent deli and had what would have been a good day, but I couldn’t completely relax. In my head I was planning, thinking, trying to work out when they would attack, how they would attack, what I could do to protect Belle, and hopefully myself. She tried to ease my mind and help me have a good time still, even stopping at a specialty shop where she bought me a birthday cupcake that cost more than my entire lunch, but I couldn’t shake it. Finally, she looked me in the eye and said “Instead of wasting the day tryin’ to have fun, why don’t we get ready for them?”

I smiled at her, in complete agreement. How well she knew me, how perceptive she was.

And how beautiful she was in that moment, willing to help me. Not many did that in my life.

We spent the remainder of daylight stopping at a few stores, then we had dinner and hung out at the park waiting for dark to fall. Once the sun was completely down and night had taken over, we headed home.

****

I walked alone, turning the corner that put me on the block with Hotel C. As I did I heard a whistle. I’m not sure how long they had been waiting for me, but they were there. Paulie P, Aces and Jackson appeared out of gaps between buildings, two in front of me and one across the street to my right. I stopped and stood there, taking in the scene. I was worried one of them had a gun, but it was only a small fear. T had a rule against guns. He had one, but nobody else was allowed. I guess it’s easy for the king to feel safe if he knows he’s the only one in the kingdom with a sword and a shield. Ace’s skinny ass was carrying a baseball bat. Jackson was carrying a knife. Paulie was empty handed, but those meaty hands of his were curled into fists as they approached me. They all stopped about twenty feet away. Jackson spoke first. “Where’s your little bitch at, yo? She send your little dick home so she can wait for me, right?” I didn’t speak, just stood there staring them down, readying myself. I felt a little anger at his comment, but I pushed it down, turned it into fuel. “Not talkin’ much? Yeah, I wouldn’t either if I were you. You fucked up, man. You fucked up BAD is what ya did.”

“Is this where you tell me to leave and never come back? Or is this where you three beat me up with weapons since you couldn’t take me straight?”

Jackson laughed. “Heh, those don’t even sound like options to me. You gonna die tonight, muthafucka.” and as the last word came out of his mouth the three of them resumed walking toward me, fanning out like predators in the wild, trying to cut off any attempt at escape. I didn’t plan on running, though. I circled to the other side of the street a little, putting the buildings behind me far enough that I had room to move still. Aces was to my right, Jackson in the middle and Paulie to my left.

“How’s your knee feel, Jackson? I noticed a little limp when you were walking. Girls dig cripples, I hear.” His face flashed anger but he didn’t speak. Had to keep them focused on me. I dropped my pack to the ground slowly as they moved in a little more. Normally they probably wouldn’t take so much time, but I had already beaten them once and I don’t think any of them wanted to move first.

Aces finally came in from my right, pulling the bat back and swinging. As much as he revved the move, I had plenty of time to duck under it, then the momentum had him facing away from me. I wanted to make a move on him, but then Jackson was there with his knife, taking a quick slash at me. I jumped back out of his way, then had my own knives out. One that Jere had given me with a spider engraved on it, another that was a simple, standard pocket knife that I had picked up while Belle and I were shopping. The appearance of my own knives forced them to pause their attack, and we stood there facing each other. Aces had spun back around to face me.

The blades caught the moon’s light as I swayed them back and forth. All three of them stood together, side by side. If they were a little hesitant about attacking me before, knives showing up in each of my hands seemed to make them even less resolved to that course of action. None of them moved, just stood there watching me, waiting for something to happen, waiting for me to move or run or anything. I didn’t do any of the above. All I did was yell. “PAULIE!”

There was a second of confusion on all three of their faces. Paulie stood a little straighter than before, looking at me wondering why I yelled his name. What he didn’t see was Belle sneaking up behind them. Pulling the knives had drawn their focus so tightly to me that they didn’t hear her footsteps as she padded up into position. She had only been standing a few feet behind when I yelled. As his name came out, she took one step up and swung the bat with everything her tiny body could come up with, and it was more than enough. The aluminum bat hitting the right side of his head made an odd sound, the echo of the metal hitting something solid ringing down the street along with an almost wet, crunching sound. Aces and Jackson both turned that direction, but by the time they had turned she was starting to back away from them.

That moment was all I needed to close the gap. Before either of them could make a move on her I was on them. I had the knives in my hands still, but hesitated stabbing them. I instead landed a running punch into the back of Jackson’s head, one that sent him sprawling face first onto the street. Aces whirled the bat around toward me, this time swinging in a downward arc that I couldn’t duck under, so I stepped into him. My ribs caught some of the impact, but it wasn’t terrible. The force of me hitting him caused him to fall backward, though, and with the fall both blades plunged into his body. I laid on top of him, looking down into his eyes. They were brown, they were wide and afraid. His breathing became rapid, then it started to sound like he was gargling water. Then he was limp.

Jackson. I jumped up, pulling my knives out and spinning around, afraid that he had gotten up. He didn’t, though. He had rolled onto his back and lay there staring at the sky, Belle standing over him with the bat. His knife was a few feet away, probably dropped when I hit him. I walked over and stood above him. I let my eyes roll over to Paulie, and had a brief chill when I saw he wasn’t moving. His body lay face down in a puddle of blood, and what I could see of his head looked…wrong, dented near the back right side. For a small girl, Belle had a hell of a swing. Love can do that. So can anger and hate.

“What now, Michael? You the big dog now? I guess I just have to fall in line, leave you alone. That’s cool man, I can do that. We cool.”

“Those don’t even sound like options to me.” My voice came out cold, flat, almost inhuman. I didn’t even recognize it as my voice. From the look on his face my expression must have matched my voice because he went from bargaining to a little afraid.

“M…Michael, I’m sorry man. That day, it just all happened. You and Paulie were fighting, and…and I was just there…and he’s my boy, yo, you know how it is.”

Belle had let the bat relax at her side and watched the exchange, her eyes darting around, watching for anyone else that could come out. Maybe she thought he was buying time, I don’t know. I took a few steps back. “Go. Get out of here. Never come back to the Green again. Never.” He nodded and started to stand.

“Yeah, yo, I’m a ghost. Never see me again. Never. I’m gone. I swear to God, I’m sorry man…” He backed up a few steps, squatting and grabbing his knife very slowly. “Think I’ll head south…yeah…” He was still backing up. Then, he started smiling and laughing a little. “I knew you weren’t hard. Knew ya couldn’t kill me. I’ll go away…for now…I’ll be back, won’t come after you though. Gonna fuck this bat-swinging little bitch up first, then see how you do without her. What you think of that, boy?”

I didn’t think. I moved. There were fifteen feet between us, but I was on him immediately. He had gotten his knife up, maybe expecting me to square off with him, give him a chance to take a swipe at me. He wasn’t ready for me to just fly in, my left hand knocking his knife aside and the spider-knife going straight into his neck. His eyes flashed, and blood shot out onto me as I pulled my knife free. So much blood. Rivers of it poured over me as he dropped his blade and grabbed at his neck, falling to his knees, then dropping onto his face.

I stood above him, shaking, his blood and Aces blood on my face, on my hands, on my shirt. I was breathing heavy and I could hardly wrap my thoughts around what had just happened. Mr. Clossen had been an accident. Aces was an accident. I murdered Jackson.

Belle was talking, but none of the words were sinking in. I looked down at my hands, at the blood covered knives I held. Shock was setting in, the look on his face as he died, Aces’ eyes as he stopped breathing, the dent in Paulie’s head.

“…Michael, come on baby…somebody’s gonna see, somebody’s gonna call the cops…” she was still talking when headlights appeared down the street. Not a cop, just a car, but just as bad. The sight of a car turning onto the street and coming this way brought me out of my trance and I started moving. When I turned, I saw Belle’s face. Her cheeks had tears, but she wasn’t crying. Not really. She was moving with me, grabbing up her bat and my bag and jogging with me into a nearby alley. We went through, came out the other side, went down half a block and into another alley. There were a few people here and there, but nobody paid us any attention. That’s what street people do, they ignore what looks like it could cause them trouble. A few more alleys and turns and we were inside an abandoned warehouse, our breathing rapid. We had decided to come here instead of heading back to the hotel in case anyone saw us, that way we wouldn’t lead the cops home.

It was dark in the warehouse, but we had scouted it earlier and there were no signs that anyone was staying there. Holes in broken windows and a missing piece of roof let enough of the moonlight in that we could make our way around, getting closer to the back of the building that way if anyone came in they might not notice us until we had a chance to escape. I dropped my knives. She dropped the bag and the bat. My heart was still trying to jump out of my chest, I could hear it’s beat it was so loud. I looked at Belle and she was still shaking, too. I had so much adrenaline going I thought I would explode.

Without warning, her lips were on mine, then her tongue was inside my mouth. There was nothing soft or gentle about it, we were animals functioning only on instincts at that point. I met her passion with my own, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull my shirt over my head and to pull hers off as well. She removed her bra, and her breasts pressed into me. The blood on me was drying fast, but enough was still wet that her cheeks and her breasts were decorated with it. It should have disgusted me, but it only made it more primal. Soon, pants were gone and we were on the floor. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it didn’t matter. Once things were close, she moved a little and I was inside her. She whimpered and kissed me harder, and as I thrusted I felt pain shoot up my left side from where the bat had hit me. I didn’t slow down, though, didn’t pause at all. I welcomed the pain. I was alive. We were alive. Every ache in my body was a reminder that life is short and I got lucky. Next time I could die. Jackson, Paulie and Aces have friends. What happens when they come after me?

Those thoughts would make a normal person in a normal frame of mind worry, but as I moved and pulsed within Belle, they only drove me harder.

The tiger pendant dangled between us, occasionally reflecting the moon onto her face.

It lasted only a few minutes, and the climax was a feeling of release; it felt as if years of anger and pain and hurt all came out in that orgasm. It was the most perfect feeling I had ever experienced, heightened by her gripping into me and reaching a climax as well. Whether I had done something right, whether she had faked it or whether the intensity of the night caused it I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. We were there, together, and that’s all I needed to know.

As I lay there catching my breath when we were done, she climbed on top of me and we did it again. It wasn’t as fierce as the first time, it wasn’t as fast, but it was still amazing. She seemed happy, too. When we finished, we laid there and fell asleep on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse.

A day I thought wouldn’t be special. My thirteenth birthday. I lost my virginity and became a murderer.

10) Origins pt. 2 (continued)

The walls of the hotel room were covered in graffiti, and the floors were disgusting. Dim light came in through what was left of the window and showed a picture that mirrored my own heart; shadows, darkness, despair. The room even smelled like depression. A single mattress was on the floor up against the side wall, but it didn’t look like something I’d want to sleep on. I’ve dealt with worse things in life though. “It’s not much, but you’ll make a little money here and there, you’ll be able to fix it up some.” Belle said.

I put my new backpack on the floor and sat on the mattress, putting my head between my hands. The adrenaline had almost faded completely and I started to hurt everywhere. “So how do we make money?” I could hear her shuffling around, maybe trying to avoid the bugs walking around in the carpet.

“T will explain it. I don’t really live here, I just kinda hang out.”

I raised me head. “Really? Why?”

She shrugged. “My place ain’t much better. Besides, every kid in this neighborhood comes here. Chillin’ here is the only thing there really is to do that won’t get me in jail.” I nodded. It made sense. Where else would the kids from a neighborhood like this go? “You look rough. I’ve never seen someone take on those guys before. And all 3 of them at once!” I looked up at her. “Jus’ sayin’, they ain’t gonna mess with you for a while. You hurt? Hungry?” “I nodded again. “You really don’t talk much, boy. We’ll get there though.” Then, she smiled at me. She had pretty white teeth, not very common from what I’ve seen so far. Her eyes even had a little sparkle to them. Despite my pain, looking her up and down I had the odd tingling feelings that teenage boys tend to get around pretty girls. I realized I was staring and looked away. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Relax up here for now, okay?”

“Okay” and she was gone. I flipped the mattress over, realizing the bottom was as dirty as the top. I sighed, beat on it a little bit to make sure any crawly things were gone, then laid it back down. I put my backpack under my head like a pillow and laid down, my head starting to throb. My ribs hurt, my hand hurt, but my head was a mess of pain. I probably had a small concussion, but it didn’t matter. I won the fight. I laid my claim over boys that were bigger than me, and I did it outnumbered 3 to 1. That should buy me respect for a little while, make my time here a little easier. I dozed some, never really falling asleep but at least relaxing. It wasn’t the best position in the world to be in, but at least I wasn’t in jail, in State or on the street. I had a roof, and it looked like I was already making some allies.

And some enemies.

I was laying there for maybe 10 minutes or so when Belle got back. She had brought me a can of soup, some Tylenol and a bottled water. She carried them to me with a smile on her face, and with what she was carrying and how I felt, it was like I had a guardian angel. I sat up, taking the pills and the water from her first. “Have to eat the soup cold, for now. Unless you want to go back down and heat it up.”

“Nah, I’m okay.” I said. I popped the pills and took a drink, then took the can of soup and the plastic spoon. I opened the can and started eating. I had forgotten how hungry I was, but then the can was gone. She just stood there watching me the whole time. I looked her in the eyes. “Why?” I asked.

“What?”

“Why are you being so nice to me.”

She sat down on the mattress next to me. “T likes ya. I watched what you did down there, and I like ya. You seem…I dunno, there’s just something about you…” Her hand was now on my knee. I didn’t have much experience with girls…I had NO experience with girls, so I wasn’t quite sure if she was being just friendly or what. I also didn’t know what to do next. What I did know is that I was getting warm, and parts of me were waking up to her touch. I looked at her eyes, the look on her face hard to discern. Should I kiss her? I just met her. Is that how things work? “Life’s hard down here, Michael. We find happiness where and when we can.” She leaned in and her lips touched mine. I closed my eyes, inhaling her scent and feeling her mouth pressed against mine. The soup can and spoon dropped from my hand and I put my arms around her. She did the same, and then her tongue slipped between my lips, mine matching hers and they danced together. My pants seemed to get tighter, but it was okay. Everything was okay. My head even hurt less. I moved my hands to the front of her shirt, but she stopped them and pulled away a little. “Not yet…” and then kissed me some more.

A knock on the door. We pulled away from each other and I went and answered it. One of T’s friends stood there, his black shirt showing off an impressive pile of abdominal muscle. I worried briefly that he may notice that I had a swollen muscle as well, but too late to fix that problem. “T is ready to see ya, man.” He looked into the room. “Yo, Belle. You feed this kid?”

“Yeah, Dre. I brought him some soup.”

“Cool. Just come on down when you’re ready, man. Don’t make T wait too long, though. He hates waitin’.” He turned and walked down the hall, and I closed the door. When I turned around Belle was standing right beside me.

“We should go.”

I sighed a little and nodded. “Yeah, we should.” I paused, not knowing what to say but feeling the need to say something. “That was…nice.”

She giggled a little and rubbed my cheek with her hand. “You’ve never kissed a girl before, have you?”

I’m sure I turned red as she asked, but I answered honestly. “No. Sorry if it wasn’t any good.”

She pressed her lips to mine just briefly. “It was wonderful. Maybe later we’ll try again.” I left the room, my head jumbling up more and more as the day progressed. In just a few days, I went from a nice middle class neighborhood, to being a runaway, to staying overnight with a hooker, to kicking the shit out of 3 thugs, to getting my first kiss. It was so much to absorb, so it all just started filtering to the back of my mind, out of the way so new things could fill in. I was still feeling warm, but at least the front of my pants had settled down. Belle walked with me and I went down to talk to T.

****

Slick T was waiting for me when I came into the lobby. Looking around everything had returned to normal, the dice games, the card games, etc. There were a lot less kids there than before, though. “Michael, my man. Let’s give you the tour.” He walked away from his friends, and Belle went and sat with them. She smiled at me as I walked away. I tried to smile back, but my brain was still inside the tornado so I’m not sure how it came out. He walked me through a separate door in the back and we ended up in a kitchen. He started opening cabinets, and even with the poor light coming through the busted windows I could see shelves filled with food, mostly canned goods but also some assorted stuff like chips and snacks. “This here is the food supply. The problem with bein’ homeless is being hungry. We take care of that. You’re allowed 3 things a day. Nobody keeps tabs, but if I think ya fuckin’ with me, we start breakin’ hands. Nothin’ personal, of course.” He then led me to what was probably a manager’s office when the Hotel C was still up and running. In there was a giant pile of clothes. “You notice that for a bunch of street trash everyone’s clothes seem clean? This is why. Ya shit get dirty, throw it in here on the pile. You’ll prolly end up on duty soon to do it, once a week we send a group to the laundry just past the Edge to wash everyone’s shit.” We walked back through the way we came and got to another office. He pulled a key out of his pocket, opened the door and we walked in. The only thing in the room that I could see was a desk and a folding chair behind it, but the room was kept fairly clean it seemed. “This is my office. This is where I keep the money. You need drugs or whatever? I can do that. Belle seems to like ya, so I don’t think I’ll have to offer ya any girls. Everything here runs off money, man. That’s what it’s about. You get out there and earn money, you can get whatever the fuck you want.”

I ran through what he had said in my head. “Food and laundry. How?”

He sat down in a metal folding chair behind the desk. “You can stay in Hotel C, but there’s rent to pay. Fifty dollars a week gets you 3 meals a day and your laundry done. Everything past that you gotta pay for. You need ideas for makin’ money, ask some of them out there, they’ll get ya to some good spots for begging. Beg and steal, man. That’s how we live. That’s how we SURVIVE, man. You got any problems with it, no hard feelings. Just take your bag and be on your way.”

“Nah, T. I ain’t got no problems. I’ll figure it out.”

“Cool man. First week is free for you because I like ya. You fucked those kids up, and 2 were bigger than you. I respect that. I’ll have some of my boys watchin’ your back when the 48 is up. I can’t get involved, though. Look bad if I start takin’ sides.” I nodded, and he continued. “Second week you start payin’ up. Every Friday when you come in for the night I need $50. If you ain’t here Friday night for some reason, Saturday when you get here. You try to skate on the money though? Don’t come back to the Green. Any questions?”

I tried to come up with something cool to say, something that showed how hard I was, how strong. What came out was “Can I get another can of soup?” He laughed and said that was fine, so I left his office and hit the kitchen up and took another can of soup and a plastic spoon. I ate it cold, almost as quick as the first can. My headache was subsiding and I almost felt as if I could fight again if I had to, though I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to.

Back out in the lobby, I met up with Belle. She walked me outside, then she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. She offered to share it, but I said no. It was nothing I ever had an interest in before, but then seeing it between her lips made me want it. I took it, took a draw off of it and coughed some. She laughed some, but by the third puff I took off of it I was doing okay. We talked for a while about what T had said, then I asked her how she fit into all of this.

“I still pay my fifty a week. No food at my house…” Her face took on a sadness and she looked away. “It’s better here. I mostly sleep at home, but that’s it. I’m still a street kid, just like you.”

“Not just like me.” She raised her eyes to meet mine, questioning. “You’re much prettier than me.” She smiled, and that beautiful act made everything else seem to melt. She took my hand in hers and we sat there, smoking and looking around at the slums. I started thinking I could do this street kid thing, especially if I had her there with me. I was too young to understand love, and even then I knew it wasn’t that. What I did know, though, was that something about Belle connected with me, it was like the minute she started talking to me, then the kiss, and now just standing there together…I don’t know, it was unreal. I should have known it was too good to be true, but I was so desperate for something, anything positive in my life. I was grabbing, clawing for something to live for, something to fight for, and I found it in the person of a black girl with a nice body and a pretty smile.

****

That first week went by pretty fast. Belle talked a few guys there into helping show me the ropes; what buses to hop to get to the right parts of the city, what areas to avoid to keep away from the police, etc. I learned how to pick pockets, and I seemed to be a natural at it. I tried not to beg, mostly because I didn’t want to stay in one place that long. I was afraid of a cop seeing me and I still wasn’t sure if they were looking for me or not. I ended up with about $200 in those first few days, mostly hitting men at big intersections. Being a kid in a crowd, I was able to grab a wallet and then just blend away. Most days I ate at least one meal in town, spending the money I was earning. There were 9 million people in Chicago, so I never really worried about hitting the same marks twice, and the city was big enough that I started bouncing to a different part of the city every day. I very quickly found a rhythm.

I also found a nice rhythm with Belle. We would go our separate ways during the days, then at night we would talk, make out, hang around the lobby with the rest. I started making friends, or what could count as friends anyway, and that was nice too. I never let my guard down, though. The fat white kid that attacked me on my first day, his name was Paulie P, and he was a fucker. His skinny friends name was Aces. (You just can’t make shit this corny up!) I stayed with Michael, mostly because I always thought the name sounded kind of righteous. Not that I’m the religious type, but I figured that name was good enough. Paulie P and Aces would stare me down every day, threatening me with their eyes but never moving against me even after the 48 was up. I wondered to myself, and to Belle, how long it would be before they took a shot at me again, maybe with a knife or a bat next time.

Things with Belle didn’t progress beyond kissing and touching that first week, and I was okay with that. I laid on my dirty mattress at night and took care of things on my own after she went home. I was okay with that. As fucked up as my life was at the time, it was the happiest I had been in years. I had a place to stay that was kind of my own, I felt like I was somewhere I belonged. On Friday, I took Slick T $50. He smiled at me, saying I was on my free week. I thanked him and told him to keep that in mind just in case I slip a day or two in the future. He laughed and said that was fine. I liked hanging out with him and his boys, though once it turned to smoking pot I generally went elsewhere. I’ve seen how people get on drugs, and I never wanted to be that unguarded there. It may have been home, but it was still dangerous.

I took some of my money that I had saved up that week and bought some more clothes, leaving me with $60. I didn’t buy anything fancy, just needed more than 2 changes of clothes and a hundred bucks can get you some decent stuff if you shop clearance racks.

Once I hit the one week mark, I headed out at lunchtime, walking instead of catching the bus. I headed to Cheryl’s apartment. It only took about half an hour to walk there, but in that half hour I had walked enough to break a sweat. I headed upstairs and knocked on her door, and she answered almost immediately. The look on her face was a little shocked, but she seemed happy to see me. “Hey, Sugar. What brings you here?”

“Jere said to come by in a week, said he might have something for me.” She let me in, closing and locking the door, and went to the phone. Brittany was watching t.v., and she greeted me and let me sit next to her while Cheryl called Jere.

“He’ll be here in a few.” she said. “How’s things been going?” I filled her in on Hotel C, my “rent” and how I earned it, and told her a little about Belle. “Wow, got you a girlfriend already? Nice. Sounds like you’ve got a nice set up there.” I then told her about Paulie P, Aces and Jackson jumping me. “Yeah, at least you held your own. Most of the guys will leave ya alone now, I’m sure.” She paused, then continued. “Use the knife yet?” I felt it in my pocket and shook my head. I had been lucky so far, but I was glad it was there. “Good.”

Jere arrived, and we gave him the story too. He said he was glad to hear I was finding my way, but that was no way to live. “Here’s a number. I already talked to this guy about ya. Name is Smoke. If you’re interested, he could use a mule to haul shit back and forth across the city. He works for Big Man, said he always needs kids to move his shit. You’ll make more money and run less risks of cops bustin’ ya than pickin’ wallets. Save up some money, man, we’ll get you you’re own place here or something, get ya set up ya know?”

I don’t normally take well to people being that kind to me. Most of my walls were up, except the one I left down for Belle, so it was hard to figure this out. Why were these people being so nice to me? What did Cheryl and Jere have to gain out of this?

“Kid, I know not many people in your life have ever gave a shit about ya. You remind me of me, though. And Cheryl thinks your good people so far, maybe cuz you were in State like she was, I dunno. Either way, take it if you want, don’t if ya don’t. Up to you.” He handed me a slip of paper that said “Smoke” on it with a number. I took it and put it in my pocket.

“Thanks” was all I could say. “I appreciate it, but I should probably get to work for the day.” We said our goodbyes and I walked out, stopping on the other side of the door. Once it was closed, I listened in on the conversation. I couldn’t hear everything, but I heard enough. Essentially, they were trying to help me mostly because I was so young, and Cheryl saw something in my eyes that reminded me of a brother she had that got killed in the Green. Jere said I looked “hard”, and he figured a kid my age that had that much of an edge to him needed some help.

Whatever. I had the number, I had the name, and I would contact Smoke sometime later. First, though, I wanted to head home.

When I got back to Hotel C, Belle was there talking with some other girls. I walked up to her and she kissed me, then pulled back a bit. “Shower don’t work in your room?” she asked. I sniffed myself and realized I hadn’t actually showered since I got here, I had only rinsed myself a few times. The shower in my room only spit cold water, and I hadn’t thought to buy soap yet. I was 12, and things like that just didn’t seem that important to me.

Until now.

She took me by the hand and we left the hotel, heading a block down to her apartment building. We went upstairs, and she asked me to wait outside the door. She disappeared, then came out and got me a few seconds later. She held my hand and walked me in. As we passed a bedroom, I saw a woman who I had to assume was her mom passed out on a bed, a rubber tube hanging down off her arm and a needle by her side. Heroin. I kept walking with Belle, and she took me to the bathroom. She handed me a towel and pointed at the shower. I just stood there waiting for her to walk out, but she wasn’t moving. “Um…are you gonna leave?”

“Why? Maybe I want to watch.” I felt myself blushing, and I also felt things happening in other places.

“But…I was just gonna clean up….”

She gave me one of her famous giggles and shook her head. “You’re 12, right?”

“Yeah.”

“When do you turn 13?”

“A month.”

She nodded. “Hope you’re not as shy then.” She walked out. I took my first shower as a street kid and it felt great. The water never got really hot, but better than what I had at the hotel. After I was done, I went out and she was waiting on the couch for me. We kissed for a while, it seemed to be our favorite thing to do, and then we decided we should head out. I told her I wanted to hit town, and that I’d meet her at the lobby later. We parted ways, I caught a bus that took me closer to town, then I found a pay phone.

“Hello?”

“Is this Smoke?”

“Yeah, who wants to know?”

“Name’s Michael. Jere gave me your number. He said you might have some work for me?”

“Yeah, kid. I got ya. Call me back on Friday and we’ll get some shit set up.”

I got off the phone and headed home. Things were actually falling into place for once in my life.

9) Origins pt. 2 (continued)

I woke up slowly. My neck hurt, my legs ached and my head felt swimmy, but I was alive. I opened my eyes and saw light pouring in through the open window.

How long was I asleep?

I raised my head and glanced back toward the bedroom. The door was closed most of the way and I couldn’t see anything. The clock on the VCR said it was 1:20. I got up and walked into a kitchen that was no bigger than a closet. I opened a few cabinets until I found some cups and filled one with water from the sink. I swished it around in my mouth, trying to get rid of the taste of sleep and stale vomit from the night before. I stood there by the sink and I heard small footsteps behind me. When I turned, I saw a woman standing behind me. She was taller than me, maybe 5’8 or so, with long black hair pulled into a ponytail behind her. Her eyes were tired, but she had a little smile. Her oversized gray shirt and sleep shorts showed nice curves, and even with everything I’d been through I couldn’t help but look for a second. “So, you’re Michael?” She asked. It wasn’t really a question, but I answered anyway.

“Yeah. And you’re Brit?”

Her smile grew a little. “Brittany, yeah. Sorry we don’t have any pop. You can have a beer if you want.” She wasn’t kidding.

I didn’t take one, but I didn’t know if it was rude to turn her down, so I changed topics. “Thanks for not kicking me out last night.”

“No worries. Didn’t really register that you were even here ’til about an hour ago, anyway. I was…really tired.”

Cheryl came out of the bedroom and stood next to Brittany, putting her arm around her. “Hey Michael. Sleep okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” The two of them shared a brief look, but I didn’t miss it.

“Listen, Michael…”

I knew this speech. I had lived at foster homes that I lived at for decent amounts of time, and the look I was getting now was the same look I got then. It’s the look that said “Hey, kid. Nothing personal but you gotta leave.” Then back to State. Cheryl dropped her eyes a second, and she seemed like she genuinely felt bad about it. I made it easy on her. “It’s okay. Thanks for letting me crash a night. I didn’t expect even that much.” She looked back up at me. “Besides, the smell of pot makes my head hurt. Probably best if I go.” I walked over the the love seat, trying to keep my shoulders square and my chin up while I did it. I put my bag on the seat and opened it, considered putting on other clothes and thought better of it. I didn’t know when I’d get a chance to wash these anyway.

“Hey, hon. Just put the bag down and give me a few. I might be able to help a little. Okay?” I looked up at her and nodded, put my bag on the floor and sat. Her and Brit went back to the bedroom, and I could hear Cheryl’s end of a conversation on the phone. “He’s a good kid…..no……yeah…..Hotel C? Yeah, that would probably work…..Okay, see ya in a few, Jere.” She came back out. “I have a friend of ours coming over, he’s gonna drive you down to Hotel C. Bunch of kids live there. It’s not perfect, but it’s a roof, it’s warm in there when it starts to get cold, and from what I’ve heard the kids there have a tendency to watch each others backs. Maybe you’ll make some friends, or something…I dunno…”

I nodded and thanked her. Friends? I doubted it, but I left my mind open to the possibility. Brittany came out with a backpack and handed it to me. “It’s a nice one, it’ll do better than that duffel. Harder for someone to steal something strapped to your back than it is something just hanging off your shoulder.” I thanked her and started switching my stuff to the other bag. It was a little smaller, but I could see the benefit. I then handed her the gym bag which she took without a word, just laying it next to her on the floor.

Not too long after that, there was a short knock on the door and a guy walked in. He was about 6 feet tall with a slender build. He had receding dark hair cut short, and was wearing a Bulls jersey and gym shorts. Tattoos covered both arms. He smiled at the girls and started talking. I always hate when people talk about me like I’m not there. Cheryl gave him a quick rundown of me while he looked me up and down. I stared at him, feeling like I was being judged. Cheryl finished talking, and he stared at me for just a second before speaking. “Hey kid. I’ll drop ya off down there, but you gotta stay on your toes, man. It’s rough there, even the roaches carry knives around that place. You sure you don’t want me to take you back to State? This down here is no life for you if you can avoid it, man. It’s really not.”

I dropped my eyes a little, but raised them back, resolved to my life. I knew I had no future. Can’t get a job when you’re homeless, can’t pay bills, can’t do much but survive. Still, I knew what I was into. “I don’t have a choice. I really don’t. I’ll handle myself.”

He nodded. Brittany had brought him a beer which he promptly opened and drank half of in one gulp, it seemed. Then he walked closer to me. “You bag of fuck. You wrinkle-dicked little pus-bag.” I was caught off guard with this sudden verbal assault. His face took on an angry edge as he inched closer, and as he spoke I could feel my blood boil. “…worthless piece of shit. Fuckin’ son-of-a -whore. Little cocksucker.” At that point I launched myself at him, right fist flying. He fell sideways and back, grabbing me by the wrist and pulled me around so that I landed on top of him, then rolled me over and pinned my arms down over my head, a hard grip on my wrists. “Hey. HEY! Kid, calm down.” I tried to but I was shaking. I looked up at him and all of his anger was gone. I tried to unclench my jaw, but it wasn’t happening. “It’s okay kid. That look on your face right now? Keep it. Hold it. A look like that will keep about 90% of those fuckers down there away from you. Keep your jaw hard. Keep your eyes hard. Never let ‘em see you upset or cry, man. Never. Stay hard. You’ll be okay.” He got off me, then offered a hand and helped me up. “And watch it, sometimes people will do exactly what I just did: try to get you to hit first. If you’re gonna swing, be ready to kill. You think you can kill somebody?”

I looked at him, my features relaxing some. I thought about Mr. Clossen. “Yeah…yeah, if I have to.”

“It’s not if, kid. It’s when. Remember that, okay?” I nodded. “One other thing…” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He flicked it open and showed it to me. It had a nice black handle with a silver spider carved into it and about a 3 inch blade. “You’ll need something to protect yourself. I had this laying in my car. I’ll give you this and 20 bucks for the c.d. player Cheryl said you have. Deal?” I hadn’t really planned on much more than that, anyway, so I took the knife and the money, then gave him the c.d. player out of my bag. “25 for the game?”

“Yeah, okay.” I figured it was probably better than what the pawn shop would give anyway, so I gave it over and got another $25.

He finished his beer in another giant gulp, then handed the can to Cheryl. “Alright, I’m on a schedule. See you tonight, Cheryl?”

“Yeah, baby. Thank you.” He went to the door, leaving the items he had just bought off of me in the kitchen and standing there. Cheryl stood in front of me. Without all of her makeup, she really was pretty. Get rid of the bags under her eyes and the pop-marks in her arm and she would have actually been attractive. “Take care, Michael. Good luck out there.”

I let my eyes focus on hers for a second, not exactly knowing how to thank her for taking a chance on me. “Thanks, Cheryl. I’ll be okay, I think.” She nodded, obviously doubting how “okay” she thought I would be, but I couldn’t let that get to me. Any hesitation gets you killed in this world. Even at 12 years old, I knew that much. I went to the door, walked past Jere and downstairs. He followed me and, once outside, we walked about a block to get to his car, and old black Chevy Monte Carlo. He gestured me in, and I climbed in the passenger seat, taking quick comfort in the feel of the knife in my pocket, the weight of it. It kept me from feeling as alone, for some reason.

Jere started the car and drove down the street, taking a left at an intersection. These neighborhoods were just as ugly in daylight as they were at night. “Sorry about that up there. Figured you needed me to do that first. Maybe. I dunno, Cheryl says you seem like a good kid. Seems a shame to bring ya down here, but it’s your world, man.”

“Don’t say sorry, I’m glad you did it. Been awhile since I lived at State. Almost let myself get soft. Good reminder.” He nodded and kept driving. It wasn’t far, maybe 10 minutes to get to Cabrini Green in some traffic. As bad as the other neighborhood was, it was almost a noticeable shift once we got into the Green. The buildings looked more worn, the people on the street looked more dangerous. Everything about it was darker, a hint of evil everywhere I looked. I almost wanted to ask him to take me back, but I couldn’t show weakness. None.

He pulled up in front of an abandoned old building. It was only 5 stories tall, and the signs on the front were gone. You could see the shadow on the bricks for the old name, though. Hotel C. Almost every window in the building was boarded, and the ones that weren’t boarded up should have been. Graffiti covered the building from top to bottom, and I briefly had an image of a bunch of kids on ladders trying to spray paint that high at night. I shook my head, getting out. “Thanks for the ride, and the lesson.”

“No prob, Michael….listen, if you need something, come see Cheryl in a week or so, maybe I can get something lined up for ya, like a job or something. Okay?”

I stared at him, and I could see something weird in his face. It was…concern. “Thanks. I’ll stop over in a week.”

If I’m alive.

“Take care, kid.” I shut the door, and Jere drove off. I walked up onto the sidewalk and stared at the building, wondering if I should just walk in, or knock or what. I considered pulling the knife out, then thought better of it. If I had a weapon in my hand, there was no way to avoid violence. Once the weapons are drawn, fighting is over. It’s kill or be killed.

State taught me that.

I walked up to the door, hesitated for just a second, then opened it up and stepped inside. I kept my head straight but let my eyes scan around quickly to take the scene in. The entire first floor was one big, open area, half lit from some of the windows that weren’t boarded up that ran along the sides. The rest of the light came from barrels with fires in them scattered around. About 30 people were in there, if I had to guess they ranged from 19 or 20 down to 10 years old, and not a one looked nice. Rap music played loud enough that the “lobby” carried it through the entire space. In some ways, I could see the ghost of a hotel here, but that’s it. Just the ghost. Now it looked more like a bad scene from a movie. I saw kids in different areas, some tossing dice or playing cards, others laughing and joking around, some in the back that the light wasn’t covering I couldn’t tell what they were doing. They covered all sizes, shapes and colors, black and white, tall and short, a few heavy but most of them were thin. Eyes started turning in my direction, now. They had finally noticed the stranger enter their home.

I kept my jaw set and looked around, waiting for…I dunno, just not knowing exactly how to proceed. Would there be somebody I asked for permission to stay? A welcoming committee or some shit?

My answer came in the form of a kid maybe a head taller than me, and a hundred pounds heavier. His skin was pale and clean, his dirty black hair matted down onto his head. His nostrils were flared and he flexed his fists as he walked toward me from the right side of the room. A few other kids came behind him, and I noticed a lot of the card and dice games stopping out of my peripheral vision. I wouldn’t look around, though. I kept my eyes on the beast in front of me. The welcoming committee.

He got almost within reach and stopped, pounding his chest like he was a gorilla or something, slapping his open palms on his breasts. “My house, motherfucker. What you doin’ here? Huh?” I eyed him up and down, facing him directly, and didn’t say a word. “Oh, you some kinda faggot? You mute or some shit? Don’t know how to talk?” 2 kids on either side of him and set back a little snickered. Rap music still played in the background. I stared into his eyes. He started, he couldn’t back down now. He’d lose respect. He had to hit me, beat me up. No way to avoid the fight. Only chance I had with the weight disadvantage was to throw him off.

“I’m not mute. I can talk, when there’s somebody worth talking to. And I’m not a faggot, so if you’re looking for a date you’ll just have to wait for someone else.” His eyebrows shot up, and his breathing got heavy.

“OH, come ON motherfucker!” he said, spreading his arms wide and leaning toward me. My backpack slid down my back as I stepped forward, my right fist slamming into his throat. His bad-ass intimidation trick of leaning in meant that the punch wasn’t able to be blocked. He rocked back, his eyes going wide and he gasped briefly as his throat started to close. I dropped to my knees and threw a fist straight into his crotch, then as he double over, I jumped straight up, my knee out to catch him square in the face. He came off his feet and flew onto his back, blood flying in the air in a rainbow over his head. The kid to his left, my right stepped forward as I was getting my feet back in a ready position. He was a black kid, almost exactly my size, and he came in fast, trying to throw a quick punch before I could get myself ready. He failed, and I easily moved out of the way of the first punch. The third kid, white and maybe an inch taller than me,  I wasn’t ready for, and his sucker punch caught the left side of my face. It wasn’t a hard hit, though, and as it spun me I continued the spin, throwing my right fist out. It connected with the side of his face and sent him sprawling onto the fat kid.

I was tackled from behind, the black kid recovering from his missed punch. I hit the concrete floor hard on my belly, the right side of my face hitting and bouncing. I was dazed for a second, but I’ve been hit harder. My attacker was trying to climb up my body to get access to punch my face. I wasn’t in great position to stop him, so I threw my weight sideways as hard as I could, tumbling him over and landing on top of him, he continued the roll and threw me off though. I bounced up to my feet and squared away briefly, saw he was gaining his feet too and lunged forward. He went to dodge my fist as I cocked it back, but I dropped to my knees again, throwing the fist straight into his knee. There was a loud popping sound as his knee broke, and he started dropping, screaming as he fell. The skinny white kid I had hit was getting up, and as I went to make sure he stayed down I was tackled from the side. Stars exploded behind my eyes as a few punches landed in rapid succession. Then a gun shot went off and all was silence. I turned my head to the side and saw a kid…no, a man, maybe 20 years old or so, standing there with a gun aimed at the ceiling. His face was harsh, his features narrow and square. His skin was the darkest black I had ever seen. “That’s enough.” He said, walking over to me. The weight on my back disappeared, and I rolled to a sitting position, making sure not to make any threatening moves and keeping my eye on the man with the gun.

It’s a good lesson in life. Always pay attention to the man with the gun.

He held the weapon faced to the ceiling next to his head, and as he got to me he held a hand out. I stared at it for a second, then looked back at him and took the hand. He helped me stand and smiled. “What brings you into my house?”

“Need a place to stay.” The words came out a little coarse, the adrenaline of the fight wearing off. “I’m Michael.”

“Michael, I’m T. Also known as Slick T. Also known as Terrible T. You can just stick to T.” He looked around at the mess I had made of the guys on the floor. “There’s a few rooms upstairs. You can stay.” Then he raised his voice. “Okay, all. Party time is over. This here is Michael. He is under my protection for the next 48 hours. Nobody lay a hand on him or ya answer to me. Now get Jackson down to the Edge and call an ambulance. Somebody gonna need to fix his knee.” He looked back to me and saw the puzzled expression on my face. “48 hours, gives the boys you fucked up and their friends a few days to cool off so ya don’t get jumped in your sleep or nothin’. Welcome to Hotel C, Michael. I’ll talk to ya later about how you earn your rent around here. Dig?”

“Yeah, man. I dig. Thanks T.” He put his gun in the back of his jeans and walked away, a group of kids following him to the backside of the room. As he did, the rest of the room dispersed, except a few that gathered Jackson up and carried him out the front door. The fat kid was starting to wake up, the skinny white kid glared at me with angry eyes as he tended to his downed friend. It sucks to make enemies, but at least I got the chance to establish I couldn’t be pushed around. That kind of thing is important.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and spun, thinking I would have to fight again. What stood before me was a girl, my height but years older by her looks. She had soft black skin, straightened hair that stopped just below her ears and a beautiful body shown off by a tight white t-shirt and tight jean shorts. Her dark, slender legs ended in white tennis shoes, dirty and faded. She held my backpack up to me. “Yours?”

“Yeah” I said, throwing it on over one shoulder. “How do I find my room?”

She smiled. “You don’t say much. I like that. I’m Belle. Follow me, I’ll show you where you can stay.” She led and I followed to the back of the lobby. I dared a glance over at T, who acknowledged me with a nod and a half smile, then went back to talking to his friends. I paused at the door to the stairs and looked once more around the room. Barrel fires. Gambling. Fights. Knives. Guns.

I was home.

8) Origins pt. 2

Two uneventful days passed by. I worked out, read, watched some t.v. and went over what little information I had on the contract. This was the part of any job I hated, the waiting while Leanne did her part and helped build a bigger picture for me. During this phase, I didn’t bug her. She would get ahold of me when she was ready, and anything I did until then was just going to piss her off. On the morning of the third day, my phone rang.

“Yeah, Lee.” I gurgled out, tired from a sleepless night.

“Hey, I’m ready for ya. Lunch?”

I said okay, figured out where she wanted to meet and got ready. I threw on some jeans, a plain blue t-shirt and a Cubs hat, then left the house. It was around 10 in the morning, I wasn’t meeting her until noon, but I had some driving to do, first. See, the reason I didn’t sleep well was because I was missing some memories. It happens occasionally, and what I’ve figured out is that He gets in there and moves things around, He blocks things from me. I never know what the purpose is, other than him trying to drive me a little crazier, but when it happens it literally drives me nuts. I decided to head down to the Green today to try jogging the memories a little bit, see if I could spark everything back into place. It’s worked before. You may wonder why it bothers me so much, but picture this: You get up one day and can’t figure out 2+2. You KNOW you know the answer, but no matter what you do it’s just not there. That’s kind of how I felt.

I took my Chevy S-10 pickup truck out today, not wanting to take the Mustang to the Green. The truck was kind of a beater, but it was good for getting around town. The dark green paint and the body still looked decent, but definitely not nice enough that I had to worry about somebody stealing it. Where I was going, that was a good thing. I rolled into Cabrini Green at about 10:30, and although it was early there was plenty going on. Folks were walking around the streets, construction workers were on the job, and overall things seemed…okay. Not great, you wouldn’t want to bring your family there to hang out, but it wasn’t as terrible as it used to be.

I had the itch of memory peaking around a corner at me. It was there, just within my grasp. I pulled for it, grabbed for it…then it was gone. I tried replaying the incidents leading up to it in my head, but couldn’t drag the memories out. The Guys were all telling me to leave it alone, but I knew He was in there, lurking, shielding. I drove and drove, killing an hour driving through the different parts of the neighborhood. Anyone paying too much attention would think I was stalking someone, but it didn’t matter. I just kept waiting to see something, anything that would help me.

I had no luck.

At 11:30, I gave up and headed into town for my lunch with Leanne. We met up in Greek Town at a little hole-in-the-wall deli that served amazing gyros. I parked the truck and went inside, and as usual she was sitting there waiting on me. She smiled when I walked in, then got up and we ordered at the counter. Gyros, fries and soda for both of us, we got our food and sat in a corner. “So, anything special?” I asked between bites.

“I got info on the security system, how the place is laid out inside, a little more about the targets, but nothing on the buyers.” She took a drink out of her straw and continued. “Mostly, this job looks bad. You’ll probably need a second.”

It’s been years since I had a partner on a job. I wasn’t completely against it, but when you don’t trust anyone, it’s hard to put your back to another person with a gun, especially since that person is also a killer. “That good?”

“I left the stuff in the office, figured we could look at it later. Thought maybe we could just have some lunch.” She raised her eyebrows and stared at me, those crystal blue eyes looking right past all my acts and seeing my inner self, or selves for that matter. Her hair was down today, and she pushed it back behind her ears to keep it from getting in her gyro. I smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Yeah, we can look at it later. No real rush, still have 11 days to figure it all out.”

“Great. So tell me, what’s wrong?” I took a bite and looked out the window, not exactly sure how to explain what was going on.

I swallowed, took a drink and continued looking out the window. I hated having these conversations with her, I felt insane as it was and I hated that when these kinds of things were going on in my head, she worried about me. I couldn’t lie to her, though. “I’ve told you sometimes He blocks my memories. Well, I remember…leaving the Clossen’s house. I know I ran to Cabrini Green, but then my mind is hazy. I can’t pull up any memories from that time. My next memory is the day I met Big Man, almost a year later. Everything in between is gone.”

I took a bite and looked at her. Her chin was in her hand and she looked at me thoughtfully. “Do you remember telling me?”

“Yeah, I know I’ve told you the story, but none of it is in my head.”

She nodded. “I could jog your memory, say some things that may paint part of the picture for you. Think that would help?” I thought about it for a long moment, my meal nearly forgotten and finding its way back onto the plate.

I lowered my head and said “Yes.”

“You left the Clossen’s, running through their neighborhood, ducking between yards and heading toward the outside of town. You figured it would be easier to hide out in an area where most of the people don’t want to be seen and don’t want to see you. You stopped in somebody’s backyard, dropped to your knees and threw up next to a statue of Mother Mary they had in a small garden…” I held up my hand as I started seeing the memory. I saw the statue, dimly lit with a small bulb, flowers around it. I saw the mess I made next to it. I looked up at the small statue, her face serene, her arms outstretched, her hands open with the palms up. I then had images of Mr. Clossen, the puddle of blood around his head, Mrs. Clossen making brownies for me in the background. Smiling at me. I threw up again next to the statue.

Leanne had stopped talking, but I hardly noticed. My head started to ache, the memory tried to stop forming but I wouldn’t let it. I didn’t just remember, I was living it all over again. I could smell the vomit, I could feel the tears on my cheeks, could feel the heat of that light on the statue. Then I was up and running again. I had only a vague idea of where I was headed, but it seemed good enough. Anyplace was better than behind me, back there, a dead body, a broken dream. If I would have known what lay ahead of me, I may have just let Mr. Clossen finish and leave. So much pain. So much hurt. My chest ached sitting in the diner, but I closed my eyes and lived my past.

Chicago is a large city by any standard, so making a run across the city in one night with no sleep wasn’t going to happen. Even at 12 years old I knew this. Summer was fading out of existence, but the air still had that leftover humidity from a warm day, sticking to my skin as I ran. I tried my best to stay off of main roads, sure that if any police saw me I’d be arrested, maybe thrown into another foster home even if I was found innocent of Mr. Clossen’s murder. I went through a few decent neighborhoods, skirted around the Loop and ended up in a neighborhood that wasn’t too terrible, but it definitely wasn’t inviting either. I walked, head down and gym bag on my shoulder, just looking for a place to crash until morning. I passed larger apartment buildings with windows knocked out of them, warehouses and businesses with the same problem, homeless people, a hooker or two. One of them called to me “Ain’t it past your bedtime, sweetie?” Her voice rolled out with an almost southern draw. I stopped and raised my head to look at her. She had red hair, almost pretty features and dark eyes. She was just out of the cone of light coming from the street lamp, but she was visible enough for me to see her incredibly short skirt and midriff shirt that showed off her stomach. I looked around and walked up to her. “Hey, was just being funny, honey. Don’t cramp my business, nobody will come near if they think I’m hanging with a kid.”

I looked around and saw nobody driving this direction. “Where could I find a place to stay tonight? No shelters, though.”

She lifted her head and looked down at me, though I was almost as tall as she was. Her face made her look older than she really was, I could have guessed maybe 20 back then, but thinking back on it, it may have been even  younger. “Trouble, kid? It happens to all of us. I might be able to get you a place to stay. What ya got in the bag?”

I took a step back from her. “Games, c.d. player. Some clothes.”

“No money?”

I shrugged and shook my head. Her mouth quirked sideways a little, then she looked around. “Listen kid, these streets are hard. Go on back home, tell your mom and dad you’re sorry for whatever it is. It’s not worth it.” Tears started coming. I fought them back. It was like being in State again. I had let my guard down some, but I had to get it back up. Never show weakness. Sharks smell blood, but a human can smell fear like a dog.

“I don’t have a mom and dad. I’m not a runaway. I don’t have a home. I just…I can’t go back to State.”

“Ohhh…” she nodded in a kind of understanding. Maybe she was a foster kid too, I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was one of the only times in my young life I saw random kindness from someone. “Come on, kid.” She turned her back and started walking, and I followed her. I kept looking around, noting people, noting cars. One pulled up to her, a man said something I couldn’t make out, but she said “Come back in ten minutes, baby.” He drove off. I lost track of which direction we were going after about three blocks, but we got to an apartment building that didn’t look quite as bad as the rest and she took me inside, leading my up to the second floor. She pulled a key out of her small purse, opened the door and we walked in.

A small one bedroom apartment greeted me, rank with the smell of marijuana. There was a rough looking love seat, a small t.v., stained carpet and not much else worth noting in there. The bedroom door was open, and through it I could see a single mattress on the floor with a woman sleeping on it. “Okay, kid. Wait a sec.” She went back there to the sleeping girl, shook her slightly awake. Sleeping girl raised her head, looked at me, nodded, then put her head back down. As she came back out, she said “All set. You can stay here tonight, sleep on the couch if you want, I don’t recommend the floor. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” I couldn’t believe she was going to just let me stay there, a complete stranger. My suspicions rose, I narrowed my eyes. She went to the door and turned around. I guess she could see the look on my face, because she stopped and nodded. “My name’s Cheryl, by the way. And you are?”

I wanted to make something up, but nothing came at that moment looking into her eyes. “I’m Michael.”

“Michael. It’s a good name.” She paused, licking her lips as if trying to figure out the best way to get the words out. “Michael, I grew up in State. I ran away at 14, and this is the life I ended up with. The world’s harsh, and you don’t want this, sugar. I’m tellin’ ya, ya don’t want this. Stay here tonight, when I get up tomorrow we’ll figure out where you can stay okay?”

I got choked up and had a hard time speaking around the tears that wanted to come again. I hardened my jaw and did my best. “Thank you, Cheryl.”

She smiled. It wasn’t the prettiest smile now that we were in actual light, but it was beautiful to me. It was sincere. “You’re welcome. Just don’t make too much noise or wake Brit up. She’s a bitch when she’s tired.” She turned and walked out, locking the door behind her as she did. I went and cut the lights out, the room now only lit by outside light filtering in through an open window. I went to the love seat and laid down. I didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to let my guard down. I was just so tired, so much had happened. As I drifted to sleep, I thought Life IS harsh.

7) Starting the Job

I looked over the small stack of papers, my head feeling like someone was inside of it blowing up a basketball. I could literally feel my heartbeat in my ears from the headache.  Yeah, that painful. It was from drinking, I don’t drink enough to get hangovers, just a random skull pounding. I was tired, too, which didn’t help any. I sipped at my coffee, hoping the warmth and the smell would help as much as the caffeine. No such luck, yet.

I occasionally stopped looking at the information to look up and watch Leanne. She was barefoot, wearing red sweat pants and a red sports bra only, doing Tai Chi. She worked out at least an hour every day, rotating through different martial arts skills she’s picked up over the last couple of years. I admired her dedication, I could only get myself to work out a few days a week usually, and what I did was mostly cardio. Never know when you’ll have to run a lot.

She was so graceful, her movements so fluid. It didn’t hurt that she was pretty, short and slim with an ideal build. Take that and put it into the motions she went through and what you have is something stunning.

This portion of the office only existed for working out. Phoenix Media, a non-existent company her and I made up together, rented out the entire 14th floor of the building. Since we didn’t need all the office space, obviously, we partitioned this entire corner off and created a haven for excercise. Nautilus machines filled one section, free weights next to that, and a giant open area she was in now for exactly what she was doing. A table and 2 chairs by the door is where I sat, and a small fridge and coffee maker were on the other side of the table.

I had things I wanted to talk about, but it could wait. I hated interrupting her. She knows when I’m watching, though. I think she likes it.

I put my mind back into the work. Each of my four targets had a two page sheet describing who they are, there were another four pages describing the layout of the mansion where they lived, a piece of paper with a generic overhead picture of the mansion, and a final sheet that laid out the requirements of the hit.

I sipped the coffee some more. This would be one of the hardest jobs I’ve had in a long time.

Main Target: Yakub al Din – 36 year old male. Runs an extensive heroin import business through JAXPORT, funneling the money back out to terrorist organizations in the Middle East. Cousin to Middle Eastern royalty of undeclared origin.

Secondary Targets: Hamzah Chammas – 40 year old male. Advisor and long-term associate of al Din. Assists in all aspects of running the heroin operation.

Mazhar Yamout – 22 year old male. Heads up the street arm of the operation, keeping pressure on the local gangs.

Nusair Alzahabi – 26 year old male. Personal bodyguard to al Din, also head of security for local facilities.

Overall they were a highly organized, extremely well thought out group. It was as tight-knit as any gang I have ever encountered, as well planned and built as some small countries. Through the descriptions of each man and the layout of the operation, it was easy to tell that this was fully funded and set up as an arm for terrorists, to funnel money and resources to those that need it. I searched myself briefly and decided that I had no real feelings on that. Odd, I thought I would hold some patriotism, but there was nothing there. I would do the job for the fact that it was a job, and could care less about who these targets were. Knowing they were terrorists did help me gain perspective on what I was getting into, though. Every little bit of knowledge helps.

Leanne stopped her workout, grabbed a small towel off of the floor and walked over to the window, the workout always finishing with a look out over the Chicago skyline. She was there less than a minute before walking toward the fridge, pulling out a bottled water and sitting down at the table with me. “I can’t believe you’re going to do it”, she said, taking a drink. She was worried about me, more so than usual. I could tell that the elevation to number 10 had really affected her. I understood her worry, though. I was worried too. For her it was more than that. She loves me, but in a way that can’t really be defined. I love her as well. We’re as close to one another as any two people can be, closer than family, closer than husbands and wives. Spouses cheat, family members will back stab each other. Leanne and I, though…it’s hard to explain. The trust I have in her is greater and more powerful than anything in the world. Love even makes the feelings sound cheaper than they really are. She’s as much a part of me as any of my personalities, and I’m sure I’m the same in her heart. If life were any different…

…but it’s not. Our lives are what they are, we do what we do and keep going. No changing it, no reason to.

“I’m going to do it because I don’t have a reason not to.”

She smirked at me, her lips getting a little tighter and her blond ponytail shaking a little as she started to speak. “Reason 1: It’s a trap. Reason 2: It’s ROYALTY, which always makes it trickier. Reason 3) Not a small drug ring, but a full-on drug smuggling HUB! Not to mention the fact that the “mansion” they live in is more like a military compound. How many other reasons do you need?”

I took my eyes off of her and took a few more drinks of my coffee, finishing the cup. I picked up the map of the mansion and stared at it, knowing she was staring at me. “True, it is like a compound, but there’s weaknesses.”

“But it’s a trap, Michael. You know it is!”

“Leanne, I’m going to do it. I won’t be talked out of it. They want to try to set me up? I’ll show them what they’re really up against. I’ll show them I’m worthy of the rank. I’ll show them I’m BETTER than that, because I have YOU, something those guys ahead of me don’t have. YOU’RE the key to this, you always are, so how about you stop telling me reasons I shouldn’t do it, please. The Guys are hard enough to deal with without you feeding them ammunition to throw at me.”

She sat a little straighter, still looking at me. I stood and filled my cup, then sat back down again looking at the map. “I’m…sorry, Michael. I just worry about you. You’re…without you, I’d…”

“You would be a very rich woman with a long life ahead of her.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I know, and that’s why you’re still here, with me. I’ll be fine, but I need your A-game on this one. We need to have Varsity on the field. This one could get complicated.”

“Do you have any ideas yet?”

I gave a small shrug, looking at the map. “I’m guessing Yamout is probably the only one that ever leaves the compound, they don’t say much about it here. My best chances are breaking onto the grounds and getting inside the house. The fourth has to be dead before anyone realizes the first has been killed or the security will be too high for me to get to all of them. I’d just get someplace nearby and blow it up but the details sheet says no explosions, it needs to be more subtle.” I looked over the layout, pictured in my head where guards would be posted, and determined that going in was going to be near-impossible.

“That all makes sense, I meant any idea behind who’s setting it up? Who wants these guys dead?”

“Probably CIA. He’s a terrorist, but royal blood could spark issues, so they hire out the job to get rid of the threat. Seems logical, and the fact he IS a royal also explains the high payment. It may not even be CIA, could be a larger rival drug family. Though this was a detailed report they got to you…usually only get that kind of info from a government.” I shrugged again. “I don’t know, Lee. You have any thoughts?”

I was trying not to stare at the sweat that was still making its way down her chest and the curves of her breasts, but it was hard. Looking at her eyes helped. “I checked some more sources, made some calls, the usual. If it’s rivals, they’re on the very hush-hush about it. Nothing out on the wire anywhere, and nobody else seemed to have been bid out for the job.” Okay, that meant it was definitely government, but not necessarily a set up. Could just be a job to take out some terrorists.

“Okay, I have 2 weeks, right? Here’s what the plan is for now: I’ll go down in a week. That will give me seven days down there to put it together. Most of what I’ll do I’ll have to figure out once I get in the area and can observe them for a few days. For the next seven days, I want you to keep digging and poking around and figure out who set this up. For the time when I’m there, I want 3 rooms in 3 different hotels. I want 3 rental cars. I want all of them in different names. I’m going to drive the Explorer down, since I’ll have to pack a lot of supplies. I also need you to get online and try to get aerial shots of the surrounding area. Oh, and I know Jacksonville has military bases, so check on military presence down there. And find out if there are any other hits within 50 miles on the line. Okay?”

She smiled. “Not like you gave me a long list or anything, but okay. I can handle that. Right after I shower.” She stood and walked toward the shower room, set just off of the office. (yeah, we had that built in a few years back. Chicago traffic is a pain during the day, so going home to shower after a workout just wasn’t working out, no pun intended.) As she got to the door, a thought hit me.

“Leanne, one other thing: If you have some free time, start looking into the top 9. See who has identities we can actually figure out. We need to be prepared, I think.”

She smiled, that perfect formation of her lips when she’s happy. I love that. “I’ve already started, but okay boss. Have a good day.” Then she was gone, and I was left with my coffee and my papers to go over.

6) Erin

After leaving the coffee shop, I drove to one of my apartments just outside of the Loop, a series of roads and tracks that basically outline Downtown Chicago. I have four apartments around the city, and one house out in suburbia. A man like me never knows when he could need a place to disappear, when he might be tracked or found. All four of the apartments were the exact same in style and decor: queen sized bed, love seat, television. The fridge kept some drinks, the cabinets had stocks of canned food and a light supply of dishes. All had a stash of clothes as well. I’m always prepared for the necessities, and compared to my salary, it’s not hard to keep up with the rent of four apartments.

The house was trickier. I had to buy that in Leanne’s name, since I don’t really exist. I have ID and such, but any real scrutiny into me leads to a ghost search. Leanne has a high six figure income as a VP for a big marketing firm named Phoenix Media, a name we came up with together, so the purchase of two modest houses didn’t even make the bank flinch. The house is more decorated, but not much. I don’t have many hobbies outside of reading and watching movies, so there isn’t much I need.

I parked in the apartment garage and went inside, grabbing a book out of my backseat as I went. Always have a book. No matter how bored you get, a good book can help pass the time. Hell, even a bad book is better than staring at my fingers. When I read, it helps me to ignore Them, gives me a focus away from their nagging. Book in hand, I took the elevator up to the fourth floor of the apartment building, headed down the hall and to my place. Once inside, I threw together a snack of ravioli, tossed it in the microwave, grabbed a soda and waited, letting my mind drift a little. Thinking about the job, trying to put what few pieces I have of the puzzle into place, creating an outline of possibilities.

The microwave gave a sound to let me know my food was read, so I took it out and went to sit on the love seat in front of the t.v. I turned it on, leaving it on what appeared to be a romantic comedy. I never change the channel much, I can watch almost anything, and this didn’t seem like anything too boring. I ate. I watched. I conversed with the voices in my head.

Everyone needs to calm down. Seriously. This isn’t that bad, it’s not a hit on us.

It’s a trap, man. A muthafuckin’ TRAP, and you’re gonna walk us right into it?

I think he’s right, you’re edging towards a steep cliff here.

We’re fine. If whoever this is wanted us dead, they wouldn’t have made it so obvious.

And if you’re wrong?

When am I ever caught off guard?

We’ll kill ‘em, kill ‘em all when they show up. Teach them to set a trap.

We need to get laid tonight.

I chuckled a little. I could always count on one of them throwing sex out there. As horny as any man can be, multiply it by however many of these assholes live inside my head. Somebody ALWAYS wants to have sex. Thinking about it, though, I thought maybe that was what I needed. The hunt of finding a woman, the passion of lovemaking, these things quiet them down, help clear my head. Maybe that’s exactly what would help me work through some of this.

I finished my snack, undressed and went to lay down. After the night last night and the meeting this morning, if I was gonna go out tonight I needed some rest. I napped, mostly uninterrupted by dreams, and woke a few hours later. The sun was fading in the sky. I looked at my watch and saw it wasn’t quite late enough to go out. I passed a few hours finishing my book, a boring novel about a knight forced to hunt and eventually kill his own brother, who had turned into an evil wizard.

Gonna have to make sure I hit the house tomorrow to get a new book.

The clock was telling me it was 8:00 now. Almost time to head out. I heated up another meal in the microwave, this time a vegetable soup, ate it while standing in the kitchen and took a shower. The Guys weren’t silent, but they weren’t being too terrible either. Knowing we were going out tonight helped, and I briefly had an image of myself driving a mini-van, little miniature versions of myself crowding the back seats. One dressed like a thug, one with glasses on, one cross dressing, one dressed in a flannel and jeans with glassy eyes. It was kind of comical, but times like this that’s how I felt, like a mom taking her kids on a field trip. That’s how They acted, too, which only added to the amusement.

Cleaned up and dressed, I looked at myself in the full length mirror in the bedroom. I’m not a great looking guy, women don’t just fall over me when I walk into a room, but I’m still fairly attractive. I took a prideful moment before heading out. Five feet and ten inches tall, dark brown hair with a businessman cut. Average build, maybe a little on the skinny side. Black sport jacket over a maroon shirt, not buttoned all the way up exposing a silver necklace dangling a titanium ring. Nice black pants and nice shoes. I was ready to hit the town.

****

The bar wasn’t too slow, wasn’t too busy. Just a nice mix of people there, from your casual college kids in jeans to a few tables of business folks. I sat at the bar at the Woodlawn Tap, or “Jimmy’s” to the locals, even those of us that never met Jimmy know the tales of the long-time bartender that ran this place, and watched the t.v. I made sure to look disinterested in the bar and the folks there, not angry or upset, just bored. I watched the television and let my eyes occasionally scan the mirror to check the folks coming into and out of the bar, watching the crowd for a potential partner for the evening. I drank slow. I always drink slow. Being drunk causes way too many problems when you have other “selves” living inside your head, they get wild ideas and act on them, making for lots of problems to a guy trying to stay under the radar most of the time.

Rum and Coke, made with Captain Morgan. The bartender was a good pour, but I wasn’t a woman so my drink was always empty before I got a new one. I didn’t blame him. He was mid-20s, chubby through the middle and already had a receding hairline, I guess making sure ladies got drinks was his way of trying to get something for himself for the night. Oh well. I wasn’t going to complain. Yet.

Sports, news, politics rolling across the different televisions and time passed. No rush on my part. I saw some attractive girls here and there, but nothing that everyone could agree on.

She was there, at the corner of my eye. Her reflection in the mirror caught me off guard, for a second…

…it caught me off guard. Her face, her features, the reflection made her seem like…

Amber

NO!

I stood from my chair, leaving my drink and my cash to hold my place. The bartender nodded and I walked away toward the bathroom, toward the girl.

I made sure I wasn’t caught looking, not yet. Not time for that yet. She had soft brown hair, a shade on the darker side and cut just above her shoulders, with dark brown eyes. Her face was more cute than pretty, mostly because of a little roundness to her cheeks. She was slender, her body held nicely by the dark blue sun dress she wore. Her breasts weren’t large, but not small either. A final glance that she wouldn’t notice gave me a look at slim legs ending in shoes the same color of the dress with very small heels on them. She had a nice tan, nothing too dark, it looked more like her skin just had a naturally good color.

As her head began to turn I made sure I wasn’t looking, but I picked up a few other details. She wasn’t talking as much as her friends were, but she didn’t seem shy. Also, she was hardly touching her drink, spending more time scanning the crowd like she was looking for something, or someone. Finally, there was a subtle change in the coloring of the skin on her left ring finger, a small area where some type of ring used to be.

I did my business in the bathroom, washed my hands and came back out, enjoying the view of her from behind. Her body was just as beautiful from the back as from the front. I continued on to my chair, worked out in my  head that she was more than perfect for the night, then put my plan into action.

Sip my drink for a few seconds. Wait til she isn’t looking then casually glance around, stopping on her to check her out. I waited a second for her to look at me, and when she did I made sure her eyes met mine. Completely intentional on my part, but she didn’t need to know that. I let our gaze hold for just a second, then dropped my head down, looking at the floor as if embarrassed that I just got caught checking her out. I turned up the corner of my mouth in a slight smile so that she could see it, then looked back up to the television in front of me at the bar.

The hook was set.

With my peripheral vision I watched her say something to her friends, then walk up to me. This was almost too easy, but I have no guilt. If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.

She pulled her body up next to mine at the bar, not quite sitting on the next seat, and smiled up at me. “Can I buy you a drink? Or, would you like to buy me one?”

I turned my head to her and smiled back. I noticed how red her lips were, how the curve of her smile made her eyes seem so much like…

Amber’s

FUCK!

I pushed the voices down, except for Suave, he who knows how to talk to women. “How about I buy you one first. If you decide you want to stay any longer than that, I’ll have to wonder what I’m doing wrong.” She smiled and nodded her approval and walked to another corner of the bar. I got a new drink for both of us and carried them back there.

We did the usual introductions, her name is Erin, she works in the corporate office for some company called Exelon and seems like a nice girl, overall. Not the type of girl who would normally fall so easily for my charms, I thought, but I could tell she was out for a reason. I told her my name was James, I was pretty sure that was the ID I had with me, and she asked what I did for a living.

“I’m a psychic.”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Heh, yeah. Seriously, what do you do?”

“I’m a psychic. Want me to tell you your future?”

“Okay. Let’s see what ya got.”

“In your near future, I see my hand caressing your cheek softly, followed by me kissing your fingers one at a time.” I kept her eyes locked onto mine. I saw a visible shudder in her chest as I spoke. The hook was being set. “Shortly after that, I see…you, laying naked on a bed with your hair spread across a pillow. I’m inside you, moving in ways you couldn’t imagine. Your back arches, your head tilts back. You’re in ecstacy…that’s the future I see for you.”

She stared into my eyes still, her mouth slightly open and her breathing was just a little faster than it had been before. I could see her nipples trying to push through her bra and her dress without ever taking my eyes off of hers. I took my left hand up to her cheek, rubbing it down the side of her face so soft, and I could feel her tremble just slightly. I then took her hand in mine, pulled it up to my face and kissed each finger on that hand, one by one as promised, never taking my eyes off of hers. “See? I’m right so far. Now it’s in your hands, Erin.”

She took a deep breath, still trembling lightly. “I think maybe we should leave.” I knew we couldn’t go to her place, and I never take a woman to any of mine, so I mentioned a hotel not too far from where we were. It was a nice, expensive place. The kind where only businessmen and famous people stay. She looked around as we went in, obviously not expecting to be someplace so high class this evening. I got the room, and we went up.

She went in first, I closed the door behind me and when I turned around she was right there, up on her toes kissing me. It was deep and hungry, it almost felt like she was trying to eat my tongue instead of kissing me. I can travel that road, though. I’m nothing if not adaptable. I met her passion with my own, pulling my jacket off and undoing the buttons on my shirt. Both were on the floor in seconds and we were moving toward the bed. I reached over and flicked a light on, and she stopped, looking at me quizzically. “I want to be able to see you, enjoy you. It’s what I saw in my vision.” She smiled and kissed me again. I worked her dress up over her head, and in no time flat her shoes, bra and underwear were tossed aside as well. She clumsily worked my pants off, then we were in the bed, hands and lips roaming.

Her body was just as beautiful as I expected it to be, smooth legs, soft curves, perky breasts. I’d say we made love, but I don’t do that. We had sex, and she seemed okay with that. I looked at her face every now and then, but the Guys would start talking and so I focused instead on her body, it’s movements against mine.

She shook beneath me quite a few times over the next few hours, and then I couldn’t contain myself and I peaked as well. She managed to have one more orgasm at the same time as mine, and then I was laying next to her, staring up at the ceiling. She curled up onto me, near breathless. I dripped sweat on the bed from my entire body, it seemed, but with that kind of effort it’s expected. She occasionally moaned, running her hand through the sweat on my chest and staring at me. The smallest smile was on my face, but hers was almost peeling the sides of her head. “That was amazing. I’ve never had anything like that before. You really are a psychic.” She giggled a little and started kissing my shoulder, then laid her head down, still letting her hand glide around on my body.

Everyone in my head seemed to have calmed down. Nobody piped in any opinions, and I had a feeling of general contentment from everyone. That’s a good thing. I looked at the clock. It was almost 5 a.m. I was suddenly very glad that I had taken that nap, but I was feeling tired. My eyes were heavy, and I felt myself start drifting. I looked at Erin, the lovely young brunette next to me, and her eyes were closed, her breathing getting deeper.

Can’t do that.

Nah, man. No way.

No sleeping.

Can’t sleep.

Get her out.

I made a display of getting up, making sure that she woke up as I did. “Where are you going?” She asked, not angry but with a subtle purring of the words, as if she wanted to go again already. I pointed to the bathroom and went in. I splashed some water on my face. I hated this part, but I had to do it. For her.

For her.

For Nikki.

For YOU, man! Get her out!

I came back from the bathroom and sat on the side of the bed. “Erin, that was amazing. We’re going to have to go, though. Or at least I am. I need to make sure I’m home in time to shower, I have an appointment in a few hours.”

She tilted her head, again. She seemed to do that alot. Hell, all women do that alot. “So, when will I see you again?”

I sighed. “You won’t. I’ll give you my number if you want, but you won’t call it.”

She smiled, and the warmth in the gesture made me feel bad for this, but it had to be done. “Of course I will, I’ve never had a man make me feel that way. I want to see if you can top it, James. Come on, Mr. Psychic. Can’t you see more wonderful nights ahead of us?”

I had to look away from her. I stared at a spot on the bed near her feet as I spoke. “No, I don’t see that. What I see is you going home tomorrow and sleeping. You’ll wake up feeling guilty, because you feel like you cheated. Your fiance and you had a fight, and you even gave him his ring back, but you’re going to realize tomorrow that you still love him and want to forgive him. I’m thinking the wedding is soon, too, but that’s just a guess.”

I saw it coming out of my peripheral vision and still let it happen. The slap hurt, but I’ve had far worse. Her angle was poor. She got out of the bed, staring at me the whole time she got dressed. “Who…wh…who are you? One of his friends? How do you know me?”

“I don’t. The tan line on your finger looked like one ring instead of 2, so I figured fiance instead of husband. The way you carried yourself at the bar told me you were looking for trouble tonight, looking for a way to get even. Maybe he had a bachelor party that got out of hand, or one last fling, I don’t know. You broke off the wedding with him today when you found out, and came to the bar tonight looking to get even. I saw it before I ever even made eye contact with you.”

I looked up at her face, feeling shame for doing this, but it really was the only way. Gets her a safe distance from me, and maybe even saves her future marriage. Who knows.

I’m a hitman, not a saint.

Her face was almost ashen. Once pretty features were now glistening with tears. “I…I don’t know who you are, but fuck you.” It was said so softly, with so much hurt…I knew I was right. She left the room, and left my life.

It was better that way. I felt bad on most levels, but the logic is easy enough. If she stays the night, she could die. There’s a good chance that by ripping her heart out, I was saving her life. As guilty as I feel about it, it’s nowhere near as bad as it could have been if

Nikki

Nikki

Nikki

I sighed, then went over and opened the curtains to show a beautiful Chicago downtown night. I turned the light out and laid down.

That’s the advantage of making all of them content. Not a single voice kept me awake.

Just one final but brief flash of guilt for Erin, and that passed quickly as I drifted off to sleep.

5) Meeting with Leanne part 2

I sat there staring at the folders, sun coming in the windows of the coffee shop shining off Leanne’s hair. There was a look on her face, that motherly look that says she knows she’s not gonna like my choices. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I should take a job.”

She shook her head. “But which one? Two of them are garbage, and the other two are set ups.”

She was right, of course. I could look at the information in the folders again, but it wouldn’t change. I had gone through all four folders, twice, and picked up exactly the same things she did. Two of the jobs were standard, low-grade trash that I usually tried to avoid unless I was bored out of my mind, or unless something about them caught me personally. The other two…

“One is CIA. I would bet money on it. The other…maybe another hitman, it just doesn’t have the stink of government on it. You found nothing on the sources?”

“Not on those, no. The others just the usual. Trace, track, a few phone calls, trace, track, few more phone calls and I narrowed them down. Nothing special, just the usual garbage that is well beneath your skill level. I guess they didn’t get the memo you were moving up.”

I pulled the contents out of the folder with the blue “x” in the corner. The hit was four middle-eastern men. Location: Jacksonville, Florida. Ages: 22, 25, 36, 40. Fee Offered: 1.25 million dollars. No other information given, just a note at the bottom: “More details given upon acceptance of contract”. CIA should do better work than this. Normally, I get a little more info from prospective customers, they try to make the job sound appealing, and they offer less money than this and end up trying to negotiate. Government agencies, though, come in with a giant offer that seems too good to refuse, but don’t give any real information until the contract has been accepted. This way, if all goes south, they can still use the targets for other purposes.

Life and death at stake, and the CIA just continues to play games.

I thought about it, some of the guys throwing their thoughts in with my own. Most are spooked by the job, which intrigues me even more. 1.25 mill is a lot of money, too.

“Leanne, I normally don’t do this, but let me ask you a question: What do you think the CIA wants with me?”

She looked at me, the expression on her eyes and mouth soft, welcoming. Caring. Then she looked down at her coffee, then out the window. She stayed silent for a long minute before finally meeting my gaze again. “I think they’ll kill you. They put jobs out like this quite a bit, right? Honey pots, get the bees to come then take them out. Why else would they do it?”

Part of me felt that she was right, but most of me disagreed. “I think you’re letting your worry for me cloud your judgement. I’m no good to them dead. What if this is their test, to see if I’m really good enough to be 10? Maybe they just need to see the proof. OR, and this one will blow your mind! What if they just want to meet for coffee?”

She chuckled. Such a cute sound, and that made me smile. I know my limits, I know I’m normally not that charming or amusing, but knowing that I can still make Leanne smile after all these years, after all we’ve been through…well, it almost makes me feel human again, like I’m not insane.

Of course, that feeling fades as the voices in my head all start babbling like a room full of startled babies. The chaos erupts because they realize I’ve made up my mind.

“Make the calls, get the info. I’ll take the job.”

Her smile disappears. She wants to argue, but knows better than to question me when I’ve made up my mind. “Okay. I’ll have it for you in the morning.”

She stood up, gathered the folders off of the table and went to leave. “Leanne?” She turned to me, her eyes questioning me. “After this, we’ll take a vacation, okay? Maybe a cruise. Hawaii sounds good, right?” She nodded, but didn’t say a word. Just turned and left.

I sat there for quite a while, still. Drinking my coffee, thinking about the job. I had to fall into hunter mode, and that meant focusing myself mentally and physically. It was hard to do. Thoughts of the set-up placed at my feet whirled through my brain every few seconds, the guys chiming in. They had a right to be upset. I was upset with myself. If the mouse realized that grabbing the cheese could cost its life, it probably would wait for a different piece of cheese. So why do this job? Why not pass on it for something safer?

I was having a hard time coming up with answers, but finding myself ranked as number 10 among the world’s assassins has left my mind a little jumbled. That, coupled with the CIA tag-job is just too coincidental, and it’s hard to tell what’s waiting at the bottom of the pool until you jump in.

Besides, I’ve dealt with worse than the CIA. I just had to make sure that they couldn’t catch me unawares. I would prep this job perfectly, and I would leave myself enough escapes that Houdini himself would be impressed.

4) A Meeting With Leanne

While driving, lost in thought about my past and recalling the incidents of my youth, my phone rang. Only one person ever calls me, so I don’t even have to look, I simply hit the button and say “Hello, Leanne.” She laughs and asks if we can meet up for coffee instead of going to the office. I say sure and ask where, she picks a coffee shop at the edge of the Loop called Bradford’s that puts Starbucks to shame. She needs half an hour to get there, she says. I need five minutes, so I start driving around a little, not really paying attention to where I’m going. Soon my car is heading down Evergreen Avenue, and I’m in Cabrini Green. Doesn’t sound significant to you, does it? It wouldn’t to most. You may have heard it tossed out there somewhere in a news story, or seen it in a movie, but nothing beyond that would ring a bell for you. For me, though? It’s part of my past.

Cabrini Green is a ghetto. It was, anyway, back before the city decided to start fixing it back up. It was public housing, row houses, torn apart buildings when I lived down here. Drugs, rape and murder were the way of life. You’d hear stories of the old Chicago gang days, this place was terrible still back then, the corner of Locust and Sedgewick even being dubbed “Death Corner” just because of the piles upon piles of dead bodies that ended up there over the years.

After I fled the Clossen house, Cabrini Green is where I ended up. No other place in the city could a lost soul stay lost as well as they could in the Green. I spent about a year there, homeless and scavenging. The stories from that period of time are some of the loneliest of my lonely life, but it’s there that my sense of solitude and distrust became a concrete wall around my heart. Driving through and seeing new construction and signs of positive things to come does nothing to dull the tightness in my chest as I drive. Just as some of the memories start to come, though, a haze starts filling my head. Soft music hums in my thoughts, rap music playing. I get some scattered images, see myself in nothing but my jeans and covered in blood, a knife in my hand. See a young black girl leaning in for a kiss. See a hooker getting fucked up against a wall in an alley.

Him. Sometimes I’m not sure if he’s really trying to help me by blocking my memories, or if there’s something more malicious there. Knowing Him it’s almost certainly something malicious, but I had no time to think about it or to try to force the memories forward, so I drove off, headed out down Halsted Street toward Bradford’s to meet with Leanne. I’d think more on this later.

She was there when I arrived, her coffee and mine already on the table, along with a small stack of folders. She smiled when she saw me, as she always does, and I made sure to smile back. I’m not sure if she ever believes my smile, but I think that even if she knows I’m faking, she appreciates the effort.

I sit, and we talk about my meeting with Big Man. She asks about the job, complications, the usual. She likes to keep tabs on what goes down while I’m out. I skip a lot of details and stick to the essentials: Job done, I didn’t get hurt, Big Man is happy. She laughs a little at my simplicity, then asks what my plans are now?

“You tell me, Lee. You’re the one with the folders.” I smile for her, real this time, and she smiles back. Her soft, blond hair shifts a little as she shakes her head, amused by me attempting to be a little funny. I see the curves at the corners of her mouth as they turn up again, soft and red with light seeming to bounce off of them. My eyes draw down to the shape of her breasts inside her purple blouse…

…then I get control of myself again, focusing on the thin yet still visible scar up the left side of her neck. I know there’s one almost identical along her side.

Good catch, man. Good catch.

If the world was a different place, she would make a wonderful love, a wonderful wife. I’d give my life for her ten times even if I only had eight lives to give.

I love her.

Loved.

Love.

Fuck it.

NOT NOW!

You’d be her death.

The guys all piped in, then all quieted down. The easiest way to piss me off was to chime in when I’m dealing with Leanne. I treasure our meetings, and never want them sullied by the assholes that live inside my head. It used to be they never left me alone, but they learn. There’s one less voice up there than there used to be. Nobody wants to be the next to go. You’re probably wondering “Hey, if you can get rid of one, why not get rid of all of them?” I’ve thought about it, and I realized two things. First, my efforts the last time nearly killed me. I ended up as a soup-eating wreck for over a week after that. Second, I’m pretty sure I need almost all of them to survive, to be who I am, to be one of the best killers in the world.

“Well, Michael, I think maybe it’s time for a vacation. None of these jobs really seem that great, and with a little research I figured out that two of them are traps.”

“Two? Huh, wonder why.”

“I was wondering, too, so I checked the databases and found out that you’ve been moved up to number 10.” No smiles or laughing anymore. The news hit me sideways, an unexpected piece of information can do that to a man sometimes.

The CIA knows of every major contract killer in the U.S., probably most in the world. They track us, keep tabs on our activities, measure our threat level or our usefulness to their purposes. They don’t know WHO I am, but they know that I exist and they know what jobs I do. They created a ranking system of hitmen, and at the ripe old age of 24, I just broke into their top 10.

The list doesn’t include government agents, of course, only private parties, so the ranking is a little off. I’m sure there are some hardcore, government drone brain fried guys out there that could take me out from two miles away, but for now, for the private sector, I just made it to the big time.

Being on that list means a few things. It means I’ll get more money for my hits. I’ll get sought after for much bigger jobs.

It also means I now have a giant target on my back. Other hitmen will now make efforts to get to me, those below me on the list to try to move up themselves, and those above me to protect their own spots. These things aren’t really a concern until you make the list. Now, I’m no longer just a hunter. I will become the hunted.

I try to make light. “Well, I wonder if they have, like, a convention or something for us up top? Maybe an awards dinner or something?” I chuckle a little, but her face stays serious.

“Maybe some time off so you drop some would be good.” She worries about me, and I can’t blame her this time. Even I have a little tingle at the thought of the things to come, but you don’t just drop you’re ranking. It has to be taken from you somehow. Since I just went from 14 to 10, that means 4 other hitmen have been killed since the last update. It’s rare for that many of us to drop in such a short period of time, so something is definitely going on… I didn’t realize I had actually been mouthing my thoughts, until Leanne finished the statement for me:  “…and now you’re part of it.”

3) Origin Part 1

Every story has a beginning, and mine is no different. I drove away from Big Man’s house and thought back on my life, mostly thoughts driven by the Guys. It’s hard for me to trust, harder for them, and they take issue to this day with one of my only 2 friends in the world being one of the most powerful criminals in Chicago. It happens.

It wasn’t the beginning, but it was one of those highlighted moments in life that stands out. If my life were a made-for-t.v. movie, meeting Big Man eleven years ago would have happened right before the “To Be Continued” hit the screen.

I was a problem child. Heh, child. Such an inappropriate word for me. I don’t know that I was ever a child. That word denotes innocence, peaceful playing out with friends, cuddling with at least one loving parent. I didn’t have any of that. I was given over to the care of the state long before my memories ever started. I lived in and out of foster homes my whole youth, and when my foster families would get tired of me, or when I would act out, back to the state facility. You learn to be cold. You learn to have distance. You learn that nobody wants you and you have to watch out for yourself. I learned many hard lessons at the orphanage, but those are stories for another time. Point is, I was trouble because I was made to be trouble. Nothing more, nothing less. I was groomed and destined to mean nothing to nobody.

At age 12, I was taken in by an upper-middle-class family. Nice house in suburbia. Lady seemed nice enough, the guy wasn’t overly fake with me. He didn’t try much of that “Hey, sport!” bullshit that I had so many times before. I had the feeling that I was there to fill some need for her more than him. Maybe his swimmers didn’t swim or something, I don’t know. She seemed genuine, though. Within just a few weeks of moving into that house, I started letting my guard down a little bit. Hell, she made me smile and laugh a few times. I had my own t.v. in my room, video games to play, movies to watch. I had a nice c.d. player. They tried to get me to play with the other kids in the neighborhood, but I didn’t fit in with them. Not at all. My dress was still mostly what I wanted to wear, and at age 12 I had already established a look. I couldn’t do the preppy thing, my head would have exploded. Kids would come over, ask to play games or toss ball. Had 2 in one day, we were playing video games. It seemed safe enough. They were having a great time, but I just felt like an outsider still. I spent more time watching them, watching the way they acted, seeing them to their cores. Looking in their eyes, I saw something that I hated.

I saw innocence.

They didn’t have my pain. They had families that loved them. They belonged. At the end of every day, they got to lay in bed feeling safe. Even a few months into this house, I never felt safe. My sleep was always broken, always hard.

I couldn’t contain my jealousy of them. I figured if I didn’t get them away from me, I was gonna kick both their asses. These kids had no stones, two at the same time wouldn’t have been a problem, but I thought about Mrs. Clossen, thought about the way she looked at me. Thought about her smile.

I told them to leave, that I wasn’t feeling well. They walked out and I shut my bedroom door, then I slumped down to the floor against it. Crying. Not something I did much of, but Mrs. Clossen had my defenses down and had my heart opening. I cried wishing I could be those kids. I knew even as good as life could be here, I could never get rid of who I was inside. Even worse, I would never get rid of who I was to become.

That night, I laid in bed for a long time before falling asleep. I laid on my bed, uncovered in nothing but my briefs, feeling a slight breeze from the window, letting it calm me. I drifted…slowly…almost peacefully. I fell to dreams of Mrs. Clossen baking me a birthday cake, taking me to Navy Pier to ride on the big ferris wheel, going to a Cubs game. I let myself believe that I could have something worth having for once, that maybe my life didn’t have to be one of only hurt and rejection.

Something. A noise. Breathing. I had gotten soft in this house or I would have woken much sooner. In the state house, I woke up if a cricket passed gas. You don’t sleep tight there, ever. It could get you hurt. Here though…

…I slowly opened my left eye, then my heart pinched inside my chest. Standing over me, within grabbing distance, was Mr. Clossen. He had pulled his manhood out of his pajamas and was masturbating over me. I let my eye drift up to his face and saw that his gaze was firmly transfixed on my backside.

Wait. Timing is everything. Move quick.

My instincts taking over, I kept my eye open just a sliver, just enough to watch his face. As his eyes started to roll back and close, his breathing got heavier.

I jumped to the head of the bed, grabbing the light on my nightstand. His eyes started to open as a pile of mess flew from the front of his pants. He looked to me, a mixture of blown ecstasy and panic crossing his eyes for one brief second before the lamp crashed across the side of his head. He bounced awkwardly off the bed and landed on the floor, on his back, his spent member still hanging out. Blood started pooling around his head. I stared at him, the lamp shaking in my hands. A noise down the hallway. Mrs. Clossen maybe waking up to check on the noise?

MOVE!

I put the lamp down and went into motion, quickly throwing on jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t hear her coming down the hallway, but I figured better safe than sorry. I didn’t want her

Mom

walking in and seeing this. I couldn’t bear the look on her face.

I grabbed a gym-bag out of the closet and stuck my video games and c.d. player in there, figuring I would need to sell them. I grabbed a few changes of clothes, then made my way to the window. I opened the screen, then stopped, turning to look back into the room.

From where I sat, all I could see was his head. He was dead. There was enough blood there to tell me he wouldn’t make it. I killed Mr. Clossen. I made Mrs. Clossen

Mom?

a widow. I glanced around the room, my eyes stopping on the now dirty sheets. One puddle of cum. One dead man. Who knows what they’ll say happened.

I didn’t care. A single tear fell from my eye, just one tear to say goodbye to my last chance at a normal life. I dropped to the ground and ran, images of Mrs. Clossen and that motherly smile haunting me for years after, and still burned into my memory today.