Charlie Huston - Already Dead

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D. Predo

I take out one of the pints and think about the dose Horde hit me with at the Cole, the one I thought Predo had him hit me with so they could steal my stash. Now that I know better, I figure Horde did that on his own. Maybe he was trying to kill me, maybe just get me out of the way for awhile while his boy and Predo's enforcer worked the neighborhood. Hell, maybe he just wanted to see how the Vyrus would handle it. I look at the pint and wonder what might be in it other than blood. Then I drink it. Then I drink two more. Then I stop being bothered by anything Predo might be planning, or Terry, or even Daniel. I stop worrying about whether Amanda will tell the cops about the guy who found her. I stop worrying altogether.

I don't have anything to worry about.

For now.

The easiest way for Predo to take care of me would have been to dose the blood. He didn't. He won't bother with anything else. He'll be too busy keeping an eye on the Horde situation, making sure no loose ends come unraveled in front of the press. That will be a full-time job for awhile and he won't want to clutter up his desk with any other projects. Once he empties his in-box, he'll move the teeth to the top of his priority chart. Getting those back or having them destroyed so they don't end up in Terry's hands will be front and center. Too bad for Predo that Terry already has them.

Terry got it right away. I told him what the teeth had inside, and that was all he needed. I didn't have to tell him the story or name any names. I didn't even have to mention Predo. Something like those teeth, Terry could only see one reason for those to be made, and only one Clan who could have had a hand in their making. But he'll hang onto them. For a very long time. He knows it's a one-shot deal. Figure he could try and use 'em lor blackmail, but what then? Predo would never do a deal that didn't involve getting the teeth back. And what could be good enough that you'd give up the biggest stick on the block For it?

No, the only way to use the teeth is to show them to the other Clans. Do that and it will mean all-out war, the kind of war that we couldn't keep underground. The kind that would finally rip the lid off the whole thing. The kind of war Terry says lie doesn't want. So he'll sit on them for a good long time. Until he's ready to go after whatever it is he really wants.

And I doubt I'll be around long enough to have to worry about that scene. Christ, I hope I'm not.

I heal. The scabs fall from my wounds and the white puckers of scar fade to smooth skin. My stomach fits itself back together and I am whole again. It takes six pints over a couple days to get me there, but I'm whole again. And ready to take care of my last loose ends.

I go out around midnight Sunday.

I make the stop at Niagara first. Billy's behind the bar.

– Joe, whaddaya know?

– Nothing worth the price.

– Good un. Drink?

– Yeah.

He hits me with a double bourbon.

I take a drink.

– Philip?

He jerks a thumb at the back room.

– Saw 'im weasel in past me while I was weeded back here.

– He ever get ya with the rest of what he owes?

– Naw.

Someone down the bar hollers at Billy's back. He flips the bird over his shoulder.

– Fuck ya, ya fucker! Shut up or I'll pound yer fuckin' head.

The guy at the end of the bar shuts up. I toss down the rest of my drink and Billy fills it again and knocks on the bar. I lift the glass to him.

– Thanks. I'll go get the rest of your money.

– Sure, Joe, but you don' gotta.

– Be a pleasure.

I walk to the back room, telling myself I'm gonna do this cool. Keep it easy. This is Billy's shift and I don't need to cause a scene. Then I see him. He's chatting to a girl. She's staring at the wall, trying to ignore him.

I try to keep it cool, but I don't.

I walk up behind him and kick his chair out from under his ass. He goes to the floor. The girl gives a little yelp. I grab the back of Philip's collar and drag him to the bathroom. I kick the door closed behind us, lift the toilet seat and shove him down on the can. His skinny ass slips all the way down into the water and his legs fly up off the floor. He tries to struggle out and I shove him in deeper.

– Want to see if I can fit you down the pipe, Phil?

– No.

– Then stay the fuck put.

– Sure, Joe. Whatever you say, Joe.

– Shut it.

I pick up half a roll of toilet paper that's sitting on the sink.

– You say a fucking word, I will stuff this ass-wipe down your throat.

He nods.

I drop the toilet paper and punch him in the face and his nose breaks.

– I told you to get Billy his money.

I punch him in the face and his jaw cracks.

– Or I was gonna fuck you up.

I punch him in the face and his cheek splits open.

– And now you're fucked up.

I grab his hair and yank his dazed face up so he can see me.

– You do as I tell you from now on, Phil. You go against me again and I will feed you to a fucking shambler. No lie, Phil. I will stick you in a tiny box with a fucking shambler and eat popcorn and watch while it eats your fucking face. Got it?

He jerks his head up and down.

– Now give me your money.

He tries to get in his pockets, but he's too fucked up. I pull him out of the can and rip his pockets open and grab the wad of bills I find inside and shove him back into the pot.

– I'm the badass down here, Phil. I'm the big bad fucking wolf and Predo is all the way up on the Upper East Side. Remember that next time you think about doing a little spying for the Coalition. You be afraid of me from now on. I ever start thinking you're not afraid enough, I'll give you a reason to be.

I walk out and drop the cash on the bar. Billy picks it up,

– Joe, this is more than he owed.

I walk to the door, my heart still pounding.

– Keep it. And there's a clog in the toilet.

She sees me when I come in, but she ignores me. She sees me sit at the bar, but she keeps working the other side. I wait. She lets it go for about twenty minutes. Then someone right next to me orders a beer and she has to come around to this side. She gives the other guy his bottle, then looks at me.

– Yeah?

– Got a beer?

She pulls one out of the ice, pops the top and puts it in front of me. I take a drink.

– Thanks.

She nods.

– Four bucks.

I dig out a five and drop it on the bar. She takes it and goes to the register and brings back a buck and puts it in front of me. Then she stands there and stares at the Sunday night band and pretends that she's listening to the bluegrass.

– Baby.

She stares at the band.

– Baby.

She turns her face to me, keeping her arms folded over her chest.

– Yeah?

– You busy after work?

She looks down into the beer bin.

– Fucking-A, Joe.

– Baby, nothing happened.

Her head snaps back up.

– Did I ask? That's not my business. I told you, you want to fuck someone, fuck 'em. I shouldn't be surprised if you do.

– I didn't.

– I. Don't. Care.

I take a drink.

– Yeah. Right.

She puts her hands on the bar.

– Joe. I don't care.

She leans closer, not to be heard.

– I can't fuck you. I won't fuck you. So you want to fuck someone? I won't ask you not to. But.

She crosses her arms again and looks back at the band.

– But what, baby?

She doesn't look at me.

– But Tuesday night is date night and you told me you were fucking busy and you were just fucking another fucking girl, a girl with a fucking limo. Fucker!

She yanks her bar rag from her studded leather belt and throws it at me. I let it hit my face and drop to the bar, where it tents over my beer. Someone calls for some margaritas and she goes off to mix them. I pull the towel off my beer and light a smoke. She comes back a minute later and takes up her position staring at the band.