Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Bennett
T he microwave beeps to let me know my two-dollar TV dinner has reached an edible temperature. I’d better get used to eating these. For what Doctor Beats-His-Meat wants to charge to care for my mother, I’d better get used to a lot of things.
Loud, playful music blares from the apartment above mine. Seconds later, little feet begin pounding overhead. This is a daily occurrence. When the mother with five kids needs to unwind in her bedroom, she pops a loud-ass kiddie program onto the television and retreats to safety.
A bit of plaster crumbles from the light fixture after an exceptionally excited stomp, and I’ve just about had it.
I grab my sad meal and go to the tiny bathroom. If I eat on the toilet, I’m furthest from the noise. I’m also kept in good company, what with the little family of mice that have taken up residence within the crumbling walls. I drop a noodle into the corner between the tub and the toilet as a treat for them.
Most people would set out traps, but I can’t bring myself to do it. They’re just trying to make their way in life, same as anyone else.
At least they aren’t cockroaches.
I’m halfway through my depressing tray of what’s supposed to be shrimp scampi when my doorbell rings. On my way to the door, I deposit the remainder of the “meal” in the trash, where it belongs.
Through the peephole, I spot two youngish men in pressed white shirts, dark ties, and dress pants. Fucking Mormons.
I open the door to two of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen, which immediately remind me of Catarina Novak. And now I want to punch them both in the face even more for making me think of that vapid bitch.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the taller one says. “Could we possibly leave some literature with you?”
“It’s gonna be pretty hard to read it in the dark, so you’d best keep moving,” I say.
The taller one looks at the shorter one. “Your lights seem to be working okay. Why would you have to read in the dark?”
I step forward, encroaching on their space. Which is actually my space because I pay to live in this rundown shit hole. “Because your little asshole is too tight to let in any light, and that’s where your pamphlet will end up if you don’t get it out of my face.”
My phone rings in my pocket, blasting some hard metal music, and the men take their leave. Smart decision. I wasn’t kidding about shoving that pamphlet up his ass.
I pull out my phone and answer it, even though I don’t want to. It’s probably Ezra, and I’m not in the mood to hear him wax on forever about how great this retreat will be and how much he wants me there. Ain’t happening.
But it isn’t Ezra. It’s Maverick.
“Afternoon,” he says through the speaker.
I set the phone on the coffee table and plop onto the threadbare couch I found on the side of the road when I first started renting this place a year ago. “Did you find anything out?”
“Not yet, but could you take me to the airport? I’ve already missed my flight due to car trouble, and I’m bound to miss the next one too.”
“I’m in Florida. You’re in New York. How will that work?”
Maverick pauses for a moment, then rushes ahead. “I was here for a job.”
I’m not sure why that was so difficult for him to say, but okay. “If you don’t mind riding bitch on my bike, yeah, I can take you. But I don’t know where you’ll put your luggage.”
“I fit everything into a backpack.”
I wait, giving him a moment to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Maverick...you’re headed to one of the coldest places on this planet. Winter gear is a must. How did you fit everything into one backpack?”
“Oh, I sent some things ahead with Ezra when he flew down a couple of weeks ago. I had to finish up some work for?—”
“Wait, back up to that. You’re still getting work? I thought the well had run dry. I haven’t been contracted since the last gig.”
“About that . . .”
“Go on. What do you know that I don’t?”
Maverick lets out a sigh, then drops the bad news. “You aren’t likely to get a call anytime soon. After that last job, they?—”
“They sent me on a suicide mission, and I still got shit done.”
“He was a celebrity, Bennett. They didn’t want his death to look like anything other than a suicide.”
“It could have been a suicide.”
“I don’t know of any cases where the person disembowels themself after dying of hanging.”
“The hanging was so boring, though. It needed a little color.”
“Regardless, upper management has bumped you so far down the roster that you aren’t likely to get a job for a while. It might be time to look elsewhere until this blows over.”
Oh, yeah. I’ll just grab the hitman classifieds and start cold-calling people. Cue the infamous Bennett eye roll.
“I’ll worry about that later,” I say. “But first, tell me what you plan to do now that Cat will be at the retreat.”
“My flight leaves in two hours, so I kind of need to call a ride service if?—”
“You aren’t getting out of this conversation. Why don’t you tell her you aren’t interested?”
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s a sweet girl, and beautiful too, but I’m not in a place to date right now. I’m too busy climbing the ladder at work.”
Yeah, and the rung he just stepped on sits right above my head.
“I’d be happy to let her down for you,” I say with a laugh.
He laughs too, because we both know I wouldn’t let her down gently. I’d drop her ass from the Empire State Building, then race down to see the carnage at the bottom.
“Just pick me up and take me to the airport. If you’ll do this for me, I’ll see if I can put in a good word for you with the higher-ups.”
Ouch. That hurts. It wasn’t so long ago that a green-eyed youngster came to me to get into the game. I was the one putting in the good word. Now...I’m finished.
I tell Maverick I’ll be by his hotel to pick him up shortly. He gives me the address, and I end the call and head toward the door.
But then an idea strikes me as I’m reaching for the door handle. I’ll already be at the airport, so maybe I should pack a bag and catch a flight myself. Since I don’t have any work lined up, I have plenty of free time. Silver linings and shit.
I hear Texas is nice this time of year.
Well, parts of Texas are still warm. If I’m forced to go north, there could be some cold and snow. I’ll pack some light winter gear, just in case. I’m chaotic, but I’m never underprepared.
After tossing a few things into my suitcase, I shut down the apartment, turning off lights and unplugging appliances. Now that I know why the work river has stopped flowing my way, I’ll need to be more careful with my already strained finances. My mother’s care comes first, though. I’ll live in a box and scrub car windows with newspaper before I make her do without anything.
I don’t know how long I’ll be out of town, so I call a ride service. I won’t leave my bike in a parking garage. Maverick can pay for the ride since he’d have paid for one if I hadn’t agreed to take him. It’s the transitive property or some shit.
With a plan in place, I take my suitcase downstairs and wait for the driver to pull up. In a few short hours, I’ll be up in the air and miles away from my problems. Maybe this is just what I need.
Or maybe what I need is in Alaska after all.
Without a real lead on Luisa G., our infamous missing sister, it seems pointless to waste a plane ticket to Texas. I’ll also end up spending a lot of money while I’m there. If I go northwest, however, Ezra will cover the plane ticket, and there are no lodging expenses for insiders like me.
Not to mention the havoc I can wreak. I know how excited Cat must be to get her first kill, but I’m even more excited at the prospect of preventing that from happening. The look on her face when I arrive will be enough to soothe my broken soul.
As the car pulls against the curb, I’ve made up my mind. I lean into the window and say, “I need five minutes. I’ve forgotten my winter finest.”
And just like that, I’m Alaska bound.