Russell Andrews - Icarus

"Thanks," Jack said. "I'll keep it in mind."

They walked a block south to the SoHo Wine Bar, sat down in a booth off to the side. The waitress came immediately to take their order – Bryan had a light beer, Jack had a Sam Adams on draft – then Bryan looked up and, with as friendly a smile as Jack thought he'd seen in a long, long time, asked, "So what can I do for you, Mr. Keller?"

"The first thing is, call me Jack."

Again, that flash of embarrassment. Bryan nodded quickly and vigorously to cover it up.

"Second thing, and this isn't why I'm here, but I thought of it when we were in the gym – I need a new trainer. Kid got me hooked, although it's not just vanity. Or even just staying in shape. I've got some specific physical therapy that I've got to keep up. It's important. You interested?"

Bryan could hardly get the words out. The smile on his face went from ear to ear now. "Are you serious? Yeah, I'm interested. Yeah, of course."

"I like to work out early in the morning, but I can be flexible. I'm an early morning person, though, and it's easier-:"

Bryan interrupted him excitedly. "Hey, Mr. Keller – I mean, Jack… sorry – whatever you want to do and whenever you want to do it is fine with me. I mean, this is like an honor for you to even ask me. And I know a lot of the therapy Kid was doing with you. I'm gonna be really good at this."

"I know you are, Bryan. That's why I asked you. I'll pay you the same thing I was paying Kid, which is pretty fair."

"Okay, but, I mean, I'm no Kid. You gotta understand that. He was the best, really. I'm good, though, I don't want you to think I'm not good. I can do this."

"So do we have a deal?"

"Yeah." Jack didn't think it was possible but Bryan's grin got even wider. "We definitely have a deal. And I wasn't kidding when I said that this was a real honor for me. I'm gonna take it very seriously, I just want you to know that."

Jack nodded, pleased. "I do know it."

Bryan stuck out his hand and they shook on it. Bryan was so excited he could hardly sit still.

"And now there's a third thing," Jack told him.

"Sure," Bryan said. "Anything."

"I don't think Kid killed himself. Or that he just fell from the balcony."

Bryan looked confused, not quite able to grasp Jack's train of thought. "But, then what do you-"

"I think somebody killed Kid."

"For real? Are you sure?"

"For real," Jack said. "And I'm pretty sure."

"Have you told the police?"

Jack nodded.

Bryan was excited. "And what'd they say?"

"They didn't believe me. Or care."

"Typical," Bryan said. "They're stupid. It's just easier for them that way."

"I've been doing some checking on my own. Some things just don't add up. You told me he hassled you when you were taking steroids."

"That's for sure. He hated drugs. Kid wouldn't even smoke a joint."

"Did you know they found LSD in his blood?"

Bryan practically exploded in the booth. "That's bullshit," he said. "That's gotta be total bullshit!"

"That's what I think, too. But there's more. The night he died, there was a woman in his apartment with him. Right before… right before it happened."

"Okay, well, that sounds like Kid, I gotta admit. He was pretty much of a hound."

"Did he ever talk to you about his team?"

"The women, you mean? His girlfriends?" When Jack nodded, Bryan shrugged. "Sometimes. Not all that much. You know, normal stuff."

"Did you meet any of them?"

"Why are you asking about his girls?"

"Because I think that one of the members of his team was with him the night he died. And I think whoever it was killed him."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah," Jack said. "I agree. So do you know any of them?"

"I might have met one or two," Bryan said slowly. "Seen 'em at clubs or something. But-"

"Do you know any of their names?"

Now Bryan hesitated. Then he said, "He had these weird nicknames, you know. That's mostly what he called them."

"I know," Jack told him. And then he gave Bryan as complete a rundown as he could. He told him about the Mortician, how he'd found her, who she really was. Bryan's eyes widened when he learned her real identity. They widened even more when he found out she'd been paying for Kid's apartment.

"I knew somebody was footin' the bill," he said. "But Kid was pretty tight about that. He didn't talk about it much. I think he might've been a little ashamed, you know, letting a woman pay for him."

Jack ran down the other nicknames. At each mention – the Entertainer, Samsonite, the Murderess, the Mistake – Bryan shook his head.

"The Destination?" Jack asked. "Did he ever mention her?"

"Yeah." His eyebrows came together and his shoulders rose. "Her I heard of. The Destination. Yeah. She was like his dream girl or somethin', right?" His shoulders fell back down slightly. "That was Kid," he said sadly. "Always dreamin'."

"So you don't know any of the others?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Keller. I might've heard about 'em but I just don't remember. I can't believe you found one. That's pretty amazing."

"How about Kim?" Jack asked. "I overheard him on the phone once; he said that he worked with someone named Kim, at the Saddle."

"Sure," Bryan nodded. "The Golden Saddle. In Chelsea. Kid used to fill in there sometimes when he really needed money."

"Do you know Kim?"

"No. But I think they went to school together. Hunter. For the MBA. You gonna go to the Saddle?" Bryan asked.

"I guess so. Are they open late?"

"Yeah. Probably till two or somethin' like that. Maybe even later."

"Pretty late for a gym."

"A gym?" Bryan laughed. "It's a club, Mr. Keller. Believe me, the Saddle ain't no gym. You know, if you wanna wait till tomorrow, I can go with you. I just can't do it tonight."

"It's all right. But I appreciate the offer. And I'll tell you what – why don't we start the workouts day after tomorrow? Since I'll be out clubbing tonight, give me a day's rest and then we'll get goin'."

"You got it," Bryan said.

Jack paid the check and they stood to leave. As Jack was just about to ease his way out from behind the table, Bryan put his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Mr. Keller…" he said. "Kid knew some pretty strange people. You be careful, okay? And if you need anything, someone to watch your back, you call me." He hesitated, as if afraid to say something that might sound like bragging, but then he said, rather wistfully, "I blocked for him. I can block for you. It's what I'm good at."

Jack nodded and smiled his thanks. "Day after tomorrow," he said. "The new torture begins."

The Golden Saddle was on Twenty-third Street and Eleventh Avenue. It was easy to spot by the crowd of leather-clad, body-pierced, tattooed customers streaming in.

It was nine-thirty later that night and Jack stood outside, looking up at the small red neon sign that flashed the club's name.

"Bryan was right," Dom growled. "This definitely ain't no gym. And I'll tell you somethin' else, Jackie. The people are so fuckin' weird, I'm gonna fit right in."

"Let's stop talking and do it," Jack said. "We'll find Kim, talk to her for a few minutes, then we'll leave. I called and they said she was working."

"You really think I'm goin' in there?" Dom asked.

"I bought you dinner, didn't I? A deal's a deal."

"Nothin but grief," Dom said. Then they paid their ten-dollar cover charge and went inside.

They found themselves in a rowdy country-western bar, dimly lit, so loud it was almost impossible to talk. There were tables scattered around and two bars, one at either end of the room. One of the bars had a platform extending from it, as if there would be some live entertainment. A waiter led them to a table after Jack slipped him ten bucks and they sat and ordered beer. It took a minute, Jack was waiting for it, and then Dom said, "You notice somethin' a little strange about this place?"