Dave Zeltserman - Fast Lane

Well, I had to talk to him. I got dressed and headed downtown. I stood across the street from his office building and waited. Around noon he stepped outside. I followed right behind him, and I guess he must’ve had too much on his mind because he didn’t notice me.

I was going to tap him on the shoulder and suggest we find a quiet place to talk, but he saved me the trouble by walking into an alleyway to cut across the block. I followed him into it, and stepped on the heel of his shoe.

“Hey!” he shouted “What the hell-” He turned and saw me.

“Hello, Jerry,” I said. “I tried calling you earlier but I guess we had a bad line.”

“You’re asking for trouble!” He tried to push his way past me but I grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. I then slapped him with the back of my hand. Three times across the face. Hard enough to stun him, but not hard enough to leave any marks.

“That’s not a nice way to talk to a friend,” I said. “How’s the wife?” He looked at me stupidly. “She’s just fine.” A nasty smile slowly twisted his lips. “And how’s that girl, Mary Williams?”

I didn’t say anything. I had his jacket lapel wrapped in my hands. I pushed hard against it.

“You sent her to me,” he said. “What did you expect?”

“Not that. It was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled. I ought to kick your teeth in for it.”

“Hey, look. Get your hands off me!”

I tightened my hold. His smile stayed frozen on his face but started looking a little sick.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “Let go, okay?”

The sight of him was turning my stomach. I let go. He adjusted his jacket. “That was a hot little piece of ass you sent me,” he said, his smirk coming back to his lips. “I’ll play daddy for her any time. I’ll be glad to put her on my knee and spank her whenever she wants. You tell her that.”

“You dirty-”

“Yeah?” he asked. “What are going to do about it? You want to talk to my wife, go right ahead, but I’ll have a talk with my daughter afterwards.”

He must have misunderstood my expression, reading something other than contempt from my face. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice breaking out into an ugly laugh.

“I won’t have to talk to your wife,” I said. “The police will be doing it for me. Mary wants to file attempted rape charges against you.”

It took several seconds for my statement to register, but when it did, it left his face dull and flabby. “She wouldn’t do something like that,” he said.

“I’m afraid she would. How are you going to explain it to your wife?”

A hurt look played on his mouth. “You better make sure she doesn’t. It will all come out if she does. All of it.”

I clenched my teeth. “You’re going to talk to Mary again. I don’t know what you’re going to say, but whatever it is, it better be good. This time you’re going to convince her you’re her daddy and that you’re just plain confused about what you did.”

I wish it could’ve been that easy, but no amount of convincing would change Mary’s mind. But I sure wished it could be that way. “You’re going to get down on your knees and lick her boots if you have to,” I went on. “For the first goddamn time in your life you’re going to act like a human being. And you better give a damn good performance.”

Bry was accepting my order grimly. “Give me her number and I’ll call her,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m going to be there when you talk to her. And brother, if you don’t convince her you’ll be crapping out teeth for days.”

I took a step away from him. “I’ll be bringing her over to your house tomorrow night,” I said. “Around eight. It would be a good idea if your wife had plans for then.”

I walked out of the alley leaving him nodding dully.

* * * * *

I spent the rest of the day at the office. It’s funny, but there always seems to be a pile of chores that need to be done. I chipped away at them, and before I knew it the sun had gone down and it was ten o’clock.

Before leaving, I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk. All folks in my line of work have at least one untraceable gun-they’re goddamned liars if they tell you they don’t. There’s too great a risk you’re going to need one.

Buried in the back of the drawer was a thirty-two caliber pistol. The serial numbers had been filed off, and if the police were able to trace it they wouldn’t find much except that it had been stolen during a burglary. Since then, the gun had passed through three states before finding its way to the back of my desk drawer.

I took out the gun and cleaned it. I then loaded it and put it in my pocket.

Tuesday was one hell of a day. With all the tragedy and misfortune that occurred, the Lord must’ve taken those twenty-four hours off. And while he was napping or shooting pool or whatever, the Devil jumped in and had his way with things. We were all in his shadow Tuesday.

Tuesday . . . .

I had the alarm set for six thirty and I was grateful for it, because it woke me from the godawfullest dream I’d ever had. In the dream I was standing in front of a mirror and started seeing things out of the corner of my eye. At first it was nothing I could put my finger on, just a sense that something was wrong. There’d be a flash of movement and before I could blink it’d be gone. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to see it. After a while it got to where I was afraid to move my eyes.

A voice started laughing at me. “What’s the matter?” it said. “What you afraid fer? You don’t like seeing the truth, do you son?”

“Wh-Who are you?”

“Who you think I am?” it cackled. “There’s only one person standing in this room, ain’t there? I’m part of you, boy, and don’t think I’m any too happy about it!”

“No!” The word, along with my breath, escaped from me. I shut my eyes tight. “No!”

“No use hiding from it, boy. I’m in you alright, the worse part of me that is. Open yer eyes, you stupid worthless bastard, and see fer yerself.”

I was afraid to, but I opened them-I couldn’t help but open them. Staring back at me in the mirror were those same damn black eyes I knew as a child. It was my reflection but he was part of it, grinning right at me.

“You think I like being in you?” my reflection asked. “I know it was you in that car, don’t fool yerself any about that. You killed me, boy, and I know what you’re planning for my pal Bert, you murdering little bastard!”

“What of it?” I said. “You think the world’s going to shed a tear over Bert Debbles? He’s just a selfish, cold-blooded son of a bitch who’s probably no better than you were. What he’s getting is pure justice.”

“Maybe,” it admitted. “But what about this Jerry Bry fellow? He deserves what he’s going to get?”

“Hell, I certainly hope so, cause I’m looking forward to it.”

“I can see how you would,” it agreed. There was a pause. “But you can’t tell me Mary deserves what you going to do to her. Can you, boy?”

“Look, I have no choice-”

“Making excuses like always. You’re worthless. You just a murdering-”

“Shut up!” I shouted. “You got no right to criticize me, not after what you did to Momma and the rest of us! You killed her.”

“No, son,” and my-his-reflection shook its head. “You were the one who killed her. You knew what I was but you were too much of a coward to use my razor. You didn’t think I knew about that, did you? Well, I knew alright, just as I know if you had any guts yer momma would still be alive.”

I tried turning away. I tried but I was frozen. I couldn’t take my eyes from my-his-face.