Marcus Sakey - The Amateurs

But what were you even doing there?

That was easy. He was taking a chance. Going after something he wanted. The money, sure. But also the respect, from both the others and himself. And he had done what he’d said he would, what he had been afraid he would need to. He’d protected Jenn. If Mitch had walked out of the dinner party the other night, she would have been out there with no one but Ian. As good as alone.

What you did is no different from what people do every day. Not always with a gun. But the people you hold the door for, the ones who tip a couple of bucks before going out to a three-hundred-dollar dinner? You think they aren’t ruthless in going after what they want?

Which is maybe why they aren’t the ones holding the door.

Fabric rustled slightly, and he turned. Jenn mouthed dream words as she rolled to one side. The sheets pulled tight around her, hugging the swell of her hips. Hair slid down her milk-white back, draped across the pillow. Awake she was strong and sexy and dynamic. But asleep, God, she was like a stolen candy or an exotic flower, something delicate and almost unbearably sweet.

What had happened in the alley wasn’t his life. This was. This was real. It was what he wanted, what he needed, maybe even what he deserved. Wasn’t he a good guy? He didn’t hurt people, didn’t break laws and hearts. His action in the alley was the culmination of something. Something that had started days ago, as he began to push back against the world. To not sit still and take shit. To own his space.

And by that simple act, look what he had accomplished. Look where he was.

Put it away. Pack it somewhere deep and don’t dwell on it. What you did is done. What you have, what you are, that’s up to you. And don’t forget. If you hadn’t done it, would you be here with her now?

With the clarity that dwells in the silent heart of night, he knew the answer.

Mitch took another breath, then slid gently back under the covers. Jenn lay on her side, and he eased over, curled to spoon her. Her skin was warm and soft as he wrapped an arm around her, and she murmured something incomprehensible, then pulled him closer.

He was asleep the moment he closed his eyes.

“ YOU HAVE… one… new message and… four… saved messages. Press one for new-”

It was after two in the morning, and Alex had finally made it home. He pressed the button, held his cell to his ear.

Jenn’s voice, her tone upbeat, perkily forced, like someone was listening in. “Hey, Alex, where are you? We were all hoping to hear from you tonight. I guess you’re busy. Anyway, the three of us are getting together for breakfast at my place tomorrow. Hope you can make it. We’ve got lots to catch up on. Hope all’s well with you, and see you soon!”

It was like something had been inside of his lungs and chest, some thick toxic fog that had been choking him. He sighed, breathed it all out, felt his body slumping in relief. She’d said the three of them. Whatever had happened in the alley, it hadn’t happened to them. Thank God.

Maybe things would turn out all right after all.

He called her cell, let it ring to voice mail. Hung up, dialed it again. Voice mail. He left a message saying he would love to join them for breakfast, then crawled into bed and collapsed into a merciful, dreamless dark.

When he woke in the morning, the first thing he reached for were the pain pills, swallowing two with a mouthful of tepid water. Then, still in bed, he called Jenn.

“Hello?” She sounded drowsy, half aware.

“It’s me.”

“Alex? Are you OK?”

“I had to go to the hospital, but I’m fine. A couple of stitches and a headache. How are you?”

“I’m-we’re-good. Things went… can you come over?”

“When?”

“An hour? I’ll call Ian.”

“Should I call Mitch?”

She hesitated. “No, I can.”

“All right. See you soon.” He closed the phone, then sat up slowly, the world wobbling as the blood drained from his head.

While the water warmed up, he peeled off the bandage, wincing as the tape tugged the torn skin. He squinted into the mirror. The cut was an inch long, ragged and swollen purple. Black surgical stitches gave it that Frankenstein look. Still, it didn’t seem too bad, considering how it had scared him last night.

He washed his hands, then, very gently, his face. Dried himself, then put on more gauze and taped it in place.

“God, you’re handsome,” he said and laughed. It felt a little manic. He pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt, his boots, and went into the shocking light of day.

By the time he’d made it to her floor, the door was open, Jenn standing in it. Her hair was brushed but not done up, and she wore shorts and a thin tank top. There were dark circles under her eyes, but her cheeks glowed as she stepped forward to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her hard, tugging her to him, inhaling deep.

She hugged back warmly enough, though her body seemed a little stiff, the way she was when others were watching. Over her shoulder, he saw Mitch, wearing the same outfit he had yesterday afternoon.

“Jesus, am I glad to see you.” Mitch held out a hand.

Alex let Jenn go, stepped past her, grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled him into a hug. “You too, buddy. You too.”

Mitch clapped him on the back, and they both laughed, all of the worry and fear dropping away.

“Oh my God, your face.” Jenn reached for his cheek, stopped short of touching it. “Are you-”

“I’m fine. Just a couple of stitches. Speaking of, where is the scrawny bastard?”

“Right here.”

The voice came from behind. Alex turned, saw Ian climbing the stairs, impeccable in suit pants and a jacket, no tie. The man looked wary, like he might dart away if the floor creaked. “I…” He ran a hand through his hair, dropped it to hang at his side. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. He curled one hand into a fist, took three fast steps forward-

“Alex, no!”

And threw his arm around his friend’s neck, yanked him into a hug. The guy weighed nothing, felt impossibly thin through his clothing. For a moment he seemed confused, reluctant, but then he wrapped his arms around Alex. “Shit, you scared me there.”

“You think I’m going to hit you?” He shook his head. “I’m too glad you’re OK.” He stepped back, looked at the others. “All of you.”

“We’re more than OK,” Mitch said with a crooked smile. He glanced around, then reached inside the door of Jenn’s apartment and came out with a big freezer bag, the kind that could hold half a chicken. Inside was a thick stack of green bundles.

“Ho-ly shit.”

“There’s three more that size.”

“My God.” Alex stared at it, just stared. There it was, all he needed. His whole life, his daughter, a new job, a new start, all packed into a Ziploc bag. Something pounded through him, hot and happy, exploding in a grin. “We did it. We fucking did it!” He started laughing, and the others joined, the four of them hooting and back-slapping like they’d won the Olympics.

After a few minutes, Jenn said, “We should go inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

At her words, the smiles fell away. The two gun blasts seemed to echo off the bare white drywall. He straightened. Took a deep breath. “Right,” he said. “Tell me everything.”

SHE COULD SEE THE GOOD HUMOR draining from Alex. Everything was shifting, and Jenn found that she didn’t know what to do with her hands, how to cross her legs.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The hallway reunion had been great, a moment outside of time, but things had started to go south already. Strange enough to have them all in her living room. But then add to that the thing with Mitch last night. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It hadn’t been a planned decision, but it wasn’t nothing, either. Sure, adrenaline had played a part, and the memory of what he had done for her, how far he’d been willing to go. But there had been a connection, too. It wasn’t like the sex she and Alex had shared, a friendly, lusty sort of thing predicated on an understanding of boundaries. Last night felt like maybe the start of something.