Chapter Twenty-Two
Hunter
“We have another job for you.”
I frown at my phone, then at the writing on Emily’s car, then at my phone again. “Can’t right now. I don’t have a babysitter.”
Never thought that’d be an excuse I pull, ever. Charlie giggles in my arms, squirms, and I tickle him under his arms. He giggles louder and I smile at him. Never thought I’d enjoy being in this position, either. With each passing day, I appreciate him even more. Sure, he wears me out, makes it hard to sleep, gets cranky sometimes, constantly needs to eat, is often shitting his pants, but I’ve had a few friends like that, too. And none of those friends were as good a listener, as cute, or as fun to be around as Charlie.
“We can help you with that,” Havoc says. there’s no room for argument in his voice, but I’m still going to try.
“I’ve seen the things you build, and I think I know you pretty well. I’m not trusting my Charlie’s life to anything you’ve got going on.”
“Not us. My ol’ lady’s abuela , Yolanda. She’s excellent with kids.”
“ Abuela? ”
“It means ‘grandmother’ in Spanish, obviously. We’re a multicultural household. Get with the times.”
“I’m a single dad and I handle all the child-rearing duties. I think that’s pretty fucking modern,” I say, feeling suddenly defensive. Which I know is ludicrous, but I don’t like Havoc’s tone.
“Even the diaper stuff?”
“What? Do you think I just let him shit on the floor? Of course I do the diaper stuff.”
“Whoa. Respect.”
“Thanks.”
“So, listen, I’m going to give you Yolanda’s address. She’ll be expecting you. Drop little Charlie off and then come meet us at the clubhouse. We have to go bust some guy’s face for a collection job. You can pick up your baby afterward.”
* * * * *
It’s not just ‘some guy.’
That’s clear from the heavy SUV and the black car parked beside it in this gravel parking lot. The bars on the doors of his pawn ship, the reinforced frame, and the gigantic silhouettes I’ve seen through the window. Somewhere out there, a silverback exhibit is missing its inhabitants.
I glare at Havoc.
“He’s got bodyguards. And he’s fucking huge. What’s the plan? We just walk in there, demand he pay up or we’re going to smash him and his two gorillas in the dick?” I say, watching the guy through a pair of binoculars. We’re outside his pawn shop at an insignificant town outside Ironwood Falls called Eagle Ridge. The ‘guy’ and his two bodyguards are about as big as the rest of the town put together.
“Going right for the dick, huh? I see you don’t mess around, Hunter. I like that,” Mayhem says. “I know I was right to have a good feeling about you.”
Havoc nods. “It’s going to be fun, I know. Talking doesn’t work with this guy, anyway. We’ve already told him he’s out of options.”
“So we’ll likely just go with your idea, proceed right to the dick-punching, and take his money afterward,” Mayhem says. “But, since you’re the new guy, and we like you, we’ll let you be the first one to go for his dick.”
“I get the honors of being the first to touch his dick?” I say.
"Exactly. Now you’re getting it.”
Sarcasm doesn’t work on these two. Common sense doesn’t, either.
“Can we shoot the bodyguards at least? That’ll make things easier,” I say.
“No. No murder. It’d be bad for business,” Havoc says. He’s conspicuously holding a baseball bat and lightly smacking his hand with it, like, even though he says it’s bad for business, murder is exactly what he wants at this point in time.
“Fair enough. I get that. So how much did this guy borrow that you’re going to beat the shit out of him?”
Mayhem shrugs. “It’s not so much money. We built him something special. It even had spikes on the wheels, and I put a lot of time into the paint job, too, and he did not provide the object he was supposed to provide in exchange. He gave us money that, I suppose by some maths, would come out to an equivalent amount, but it’s not the same. You’re supposed to honor your word.”
“Just what the hell did he owe you?”
“I’ll give you a hint: they’re small, they glow, and they’re very destructive.”
“Oh fuck. Uranium or some shit?” It was a mistake to come here. This is too big, too much, too fucking illegal. I can’t be a dad to Charlie if I’m fucking radioactive. And I can’t be with Emily, either. Not unless she wants to ride on a glow-in-the-dark irradiated cock. My eyes go back to my bike, and I even take a step backward, until Mayhem puts a hand on my shoulder and brings me to a stop.
“You’re not going anywhere, Hunter. You’re in this for the duration. Now, come on, let’s go get what we’re owed.,” he says.
There’s no time for me to protest. As soon as he finishes speaking, he and Havoc start toward the door of the shop, dragging me along. It feels damned undignified to be dragged like a petulant toddler toward the pawnshop, but I have no regrets — because I doubt whatever radioactive shit Havoc and Mayhem are going to recover, none of it’s going to turn me into an X-Man or whatever the comic books say. No, the only thing I’ll get is cancer and a lot of loneliness.
“Knock knock,” Mayhem shouts as he kicks open the door. It gives way easily; probably because it’s business hours, and the door was unlocked. Just as the door opens, he whips an expandable baton out of his pocket and charges toward one of the man’s bodyguards while screaming at the top of his lungs.
Havoc releases his hold on me, hefts his bat, and charges. “Time to pay up, Horatio,” he screams.
They hit Horatio’s bodyguards like a hurricane, knocking each man to the floor with vicious precision and pummeling them into unconsciousness, while I stare at the stunned Horatio, feeling an equal sense of befuddlement.
“Havoc, Mayhem, what the fuck?” He screams. “I thought I had time.”
I’m content to just let the two of them handle it — they seem like they’ve got it all under control — and then Horatio makes a sudden move that belies his large size, darting toward the counter and reaching for something beneath it. I leap on him, catching him by the throat and tackling him to the ground. He fights back like a cornered animal, eyes bugging out, mouth curled in a rictus snarl, his powerful arms flailing wildly. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my side; he’s grabbed a small knife from somewhere and is slashing at me.
"Get off me, you freak!" Horatio roars, his voice a mix of desperation and rage. The knife slices through my shirt, but raising a cut along my abdomen. I wince, but I’ve had worse accidents while shaving.
A frantic blur of fists and elbows decimates the air between us. Somewhere behind me, I glimpse Mayhem knocking out the last bodyguard with a heavy smash of his baton. Horatio fights dirty, but I pin his knife-hand and then slam my forearm hard into his throat, making him spit and wheeze. It’s a satisfying feeling.
"Alright! Alright! Stop!" Horatio gasps, his voice rasping and gurgling through clenched teeth. "You win. I’ll stop fighting. We can figure this out."
Havoc and Mayhem exchange glances over their shoulders before turning their attention back to Horatio.
“Start talking,” Havoc growls. “We’re not leaving without our merchandise.”
Horatio strains against my grip but goes still when he realizes any further struggle is futile. "Okay," he pants. "It's in the back room. Safe behind the painting."
I glance at Havoc for confirmation, and he nods for me to haul Horatio up. Once on his feet, Horatio limps toward the back room with me not far behind, keeping a firm grip on his collar.
The back room is cluttered with neglected items, each one more bizarre than the last. There's a life-size statue of Elvis Presley next to an ancient arcade machine about alien invaders, and our entrance into the room is heralded by the warbling cries of a diamond-studded Billy Bass.
“The fuck is this?” I say.
“A place of dreams,” Havoc answers.
“You want something? Just check the tag. Everything has its price,” Horatio murmurs.
I guide him toward the painting. It’s a wall-sized portrait of David Bowie as Jareth the Goblin King. Horatio moves the painting aside to reveal a safe set into the wall. With one hand covering the dial, he twists and turns until it unlocks, then reaches inside. One by one, he removes a series of boxes and sets them upon his desk.
I stare.
“This is what we risked our fucking lives for? This? ”
Havoc and Mayhem ignore me and set upon the boxes like ravenous children. “Oh, shit, here’s Shredder,” Havoc says.
Mayhem grabs several, grinning like a madman. “And Splinter. And Leonardo. Oh, and Michelangelo. He’s my favorite.”
“Cowabunga, am I right?” Havoc says. Then he freezes, and the look he gives Horatio turns the room to ice. “Where the fuck is Scratch? And Jail Bird? They were a critical part of the deal.”
“You think you can fucking cheat us again?” Mayhem says.
“I tried to get them, but there was only one auction and the guy I was bidding against on eBay went way fucking over your budget.”
“Then you should’ve notified us, Horatio. This is unacceptable,” Mayhem replies.
“You know, I offered to show you both how to use eBay just so we wouldn’t have this situation.”
Mayhem tuts with his tongue. “You think we want our information in the system where anyone could find us? Fuck no. Not for you, not even for the Ninja Turtles. How are you going to make this up to us, Horatio? What can you do so that we don’t crush your cock into a bloody paste with our batons?”
Horatio’s eyes go wide and dart from Havoc, to Mayhem, to me — when they reach me, I shake my head, because I’ve clearly removed myself from this fucking situation. Finally, he sighs. “I think there’s something I can do. When I was bidding for Jail Bird and Scratch, I saw that someone was about to list the entire Undercover Turtle set. You let me keep my cock intact, and I’ll get you those.”
Havoc and Mayhem share a long look, then Havoc speaks. “Mint condition? Undercover Leo, Don, Mike, and Raphael? With their trench coats?”
“Unopened, mint condition, with their trench coats.”
“You have a deal,” Havoc says, and he and Mayhem both shake Horatio’s hand. “Sorry, Hunter, but you won’t be smashing this guy’s cock today — let’s go.”
* * * * *
Confused, with a drink in my hand, a knife wound in my abdomen, and a baby crawling around on the floor of the vacant home I’m inhabiting, I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m doing the right thing. Is this my best path to a stable, normal life?
Can one even have a normal life with Havoc and Mayhem around?
Or will it always be one of cock-smashing and Ninja Turtles?
I don’t know.
That’s the problem with being a parent — I want the best for Charlie, but every step of the way, there’s so much doubt. Am I giving him what’s best? Can I really do this? What if I can’t — what happens then? Every time I look at him, I’m filled with so much hope and so much fear; I’ve never been so afraid as I have been these last few days; one wrong move, one mistake, doesn’t just hurt me, it hurts that innocent, hopeful, full-of-potential little boy.
Fuck, how the fuck am I going to make it through?
But after I finish the whiskey in my glass, refill it, and look down to see that Charlie actually smiling and looks happy — granted, he is sucking on his toe — I realize this may not be the only way to a normal life, but it certainly feels right. If I keep this up, I can give Charlie what he needs, and eventually, get what I need, too. Revenge on Victor Moretti, and something else even more important, too, something that burns in my blood even hotter than my need for revenge and is as powerful a reason for staying in Ironwood Falls as anything…
A knock at the door breaks me out of my thoughts.
Drawing my gun, because it’s late and I’m not expecting guests, I head to answer the door.
“Keep your head down, Charlie,” I caution him. He burps. Brave in the face of danger, that’s my little man. “Get ready.”
Gun raised, I throw open the door.
And come face-to-face with my reason.
Emily screams; it’s shorter and quieter than the last time.
Then, when she calms, she even smiles at me. What a smile it is; bright enough to make me want to shade my eyes, and stunning enough that it wipes away all those doubts I felt earlier. “We have to stop greeting each other like this.”
“What are you doing here, Emily?”
There’s a pause. Long and heated.
“I was thinking about you earlier… and I was hoping maybe I could come inside?”