Chapter 34—Payton
I shake as I listen through the wall. I couldn’t make it all out, but I heard enough to piece it together.
I made it halfway up the stairs before the murmurs turned into words. At first, I thought Tommy was talking on the phone, but then I heard Dante too.
I slowed my steps, planning on waiting for a lull in the conversation before I approached. But their words took shape, and I heard the second Tommy asked him why he stole from them.
Dante.
I clutch my stomach, at the ache there. I might be heartbroken about what Tommy and his family did to mine, but I feel sick that he’s being betrayed by someone close. And family at that.
But that sickness shifts from him to me.
Dante killed my parents.
Someone I smiled at. Someone I let touch my hand. I was so close to my parents’ murderer, and I never realized it. I always thought I would. That I would know instantly. That a sixth sense would come over me, and I could just tell who the evil, vile human being was. But I was wrong.
I never saw Tommy as bad, and I never saw Dante as bad either.
I’m too naive to see evil when it’s right in front of me.
Tommy might not be completely evil, but he’s not in the clear either.
There has to be something dark inside him to think I could do something like that, despite our time together, and let me go so easily.
He sounds like he’s defending me, but he’s not. He’s just trying to get information on what happened. To understand it all. It’s not because he cares about me. Just his family and what this could mean for them.
Then it goes quiet. No one speaks.
I peek inside, just enough to see. My heart is pounding in my chest. The room is like it always is. The couches are still facing each other, Tommy on one, Dante on the other. But the only thing that pulls my attention is the gun in Dante’s hand. Aimed at Tommy.
Where is Danny?
Where are Tommy’s guards?
Is anyone coming to save him?
I strain to hear anything downstairs, but like before, it’s quiet. There’s no one here but us.
I don’t know what to do, but I can’t just stand here and listen to another person die.
I pull my bag off my shoulder slowly, then open it and pull out the biggest part of my rigging, a weighted hook.
Breathing fast, I close my eyes for a second, gathering strength for what might be the stupidest idea ever.
“Goodbye, Tommy.”
Dante’s words spring me into action, and I throw my bag down the stairs and flatten myself against the wall.
“What the…?” Dante says, but I don’t look in. I know they’re looking toward the open doorway to see if anyone is coming up the stairs.
“Problem, Dante?” I can hear the smirk in Tommy’s voice, and I pray this stupid idea doesn’t get him killed. Or me.
“Get up,” Dante orders, and then I hear them walk closer to the door.
I close my eyes for a second and then open them, pressing myself as flat against the wall as I can on the small landing.
This was never meant to be used as a waiting area, just a smooth stairs-to-room transition.
I look at the doorway and open my mouth to breathe, as breathing through my nose is too loud to my own ears.
And lock eyes with Dante, who grins wide when he sees me.
Everything happens fast, too fast to stop. I can both see it happening and can’t react all at once.
Dante moves his gun from Tommy’s back to aim at me. The hook slips from my hand.
Tommy sees me, turns and sees the gun, then lunges for me while trying to push the gun away.
I stumble, losing my footing.
One step, then another, till I somersault down the stairs.
When I hit the bottom, I breathe out a cry of pain. Everything hurts, but I’m alive. I’m still alive, and the gun hasn’t gone off.
From this angle, I can barely see them, but I hear grunts as if they’re wrestling for something.
Then there’s a gunshot, and I cower into a ball.
Another one has me scooting back and away. I can move, but I can’t seem to get my brain and hands to coordinate anything more than a bum-shuffle backward until the bar is at my back and I’m out of the stairway completely.
More noise—shouting, crashing, fists hitting flesh before both men fall down the stairs. They don’t seem to care, as they continue to hit each other. Dante gets a jab into Tommy’s side as he counters with one to Dante’s face.
Blood seems to fall around them, but neither stops. Finally rolling apart, they both stand, walking in a circle as if in a death match. I can’t look away until something hits my foot.
I look down and see the gun. The one that must have fallen with them down the stairs and been kicked out of the way as they circled. They never look away from each other, so I doubt they see it.
Tommy lunges, and Dante grabs him around the middle before they fall again, rolling over each other till Dante gets on top.
Tommy punches him over and over in the stomach, but it’s no use.
His hits are only half as good as before with Dante’s hands around his neck, choking Tommy with a sick smile on his face as he bleeds from his mouth, his eyes bloodshot.
Tommy keeps punching, but it’s weaker now.
Tears blur my vision, and I cry out for them to stop, but neither hears me.
I look back at the gun.
Still there.
Still within reach.
With shaky hands, I lean forward and touch the cold metal. Tears race down my cheeks.
I pull it closer to me and then use the bar to stand. It takes a lot of effort to just get one of my legs to bend. It pulls a whimper from me, but I keep going. I don’t think anything’s broken, but everything hurts so much.
And my heart. It hurts the most. The man I love is being killed by the person who killed my parents and destroyed my life.
And I’m about to do something I never thought I could do.
I fully stand up, then turn to face them. Tommy is barely moving his hands now. I can’t wait any longer.
Raising the gun, I steady my hands as much as possible, just like he taught me, but they keep shaking. I hesitate and lower the gun, not sure if I can do this.
But then I hear a gurgling noise from Tommy, and I straighten once more.
I don’t think.
I just shoot.
My eyes are open, but I can barely see through my tears. I cry harder with each shot, firing again and again, praying I don’t hit Tommy as my hands shake from the sobs racking my body, moving my shoulders up and down.
Then the gun clicks empty, and there’s no noise from anyone.
I blink several times and wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands, ignoring the gun still in my grip.
Tommy is still on the ground, but so is Dante.
Then chaos erupts around us.
I jump as doors are thrown open and at least a dozen people come into the room, all with guns drawn. Half are in suits, the others in military gear of some kind as they take in the scene.
Three men go to Tommy and four to Dante. I just stand there, gun down at my side as I cry and shake, still sobbing. I shot someone. I might have shot two people.
I’m a killer.
Just like him.
Just like the worst of them.
“I got it.”
I pivot quickly at the hand on my side and jerk the gun back into my hand only to see Danny staring at me. His eyes aren’t cold like last time, but there isn’t much warmth there either.
He lets me debate with myself as he waits with his hand out. Waiting for the gun.
I give it to him, surprised that it takes a lot of strength for me to do so. I once feared the weapon, and now I hesitate to be parted from it.
I don’t like guns. I don’t think I ever will. But it’s still hard to let it go.
“Here.”
I take the Styrofoam cup Vinny offers me but don’t drink it. I just hold it as I look past him to the wall. I’ve been in this hospital room for a while now, left alone till he came in and sat in the only chair beside the bed.
I keep replaying everything in my head. What I heard. What I thought. What I did.
I try to lock it away. Put it in my box, the one I used when I didn’t get a dance part. Or when a teacher yelled at me and I was embarrassed. Or when my parents died. The months after their death. What Carl tried to do. What Tommy did for me.
I try to put it all in that same box. The one where I can just forget about it. Numb the parts of my life that I don’t want to remember.
But what happened is too big to be contained. Or maybe it’s not, but I’ve just gone through so much already that the box won’t shut anymore.
Instead, everything is spilling out. Every part and in random order.
The time my dad forgot a dance performance for parents’ night. The day my mom didn’t pick me up from class and I had to walk home for the first time.
How Carl’s hands held me tight as he pulled me against his hard cock.
The sound of the first gunshot as it echoed up to my room, pulling me from my reading on Russian ballet history.
How Tommy held me in his arms as he made love to me.
How the gun felt almost weightless as I fired it at Dante, but I couldn’t seem to hold it up.
All of it.
Over and over.
When the door opens a second time, a familiar face greets me.
“Hello, my dear.” The same doctor who treated me the first time gives me the same warm smile as if nothing has changed.
“Hello.” My voice is hollow in my ears.
He washes his hands in the small sink by the wall of cabinets and then comes over to me. He takes the cup out of my hand, setting it on the small table beside me, then removes a penlight from his jacket pocket and uses it to look in my eyes as he lifts my chin.
“I heard you took a tumble.”
“I fell down the stairs,” I mumble as he moves my head.
“Oh my. Well, I’m sure I’m not the first one to tell you that playing on the stairs is never a good idea.”
“I wasn’t… I wasn’t playing on them. I was—”
He cuts me off with a shake of his head and a kind smile.
“Whatever it was, I’ll give you a full look over to make sure everything is fine.” He winks at me and then starts gently moving my limbs and asking what hurts. Touching my sides and back. Lifting my shirt just enough to see parts that feel sore compared to others.
All the while, Vinny sits patiently in the chair beside me. Is he here to make sure I don’t say anything to the doctor? Is that what this is about? To keep me from talking about a Mafia thing?
Or is he here for another reason?
For Tommy?
They moved me out of the club quickly after the gun was in Danny’s hands. I didn’t even have time to ask about him once I was in the car. And then I was put in this hospital room. Is he alive? Did Dante kill him?
Did I?
Questions I don’t ask for fear of the answers. He could be dead. He could be gone from this earth. I could have done it.
Or he could be alive.
And doesn’t want to see me.
Which might be the hardest to hear. So I don’t ask, choosing to live in my collapsing bubble of naivety for a little while longer.
I’ll have to know the answers eventually.
But not now. I can barely talk without feeling too much, so I keep my mouth shut as much as possible and just let myself fall apart in my own head.
Better to do it alone than in front of others.
“Good news, child, nothing is broken. I’ll still take X-rays and do an MRI just to be sure, but my assessment is that you’re just going to have some deep bruising for a bit.
Especially around your hip, back, and ribs, I believe.
Those seem to have taken the brunt of the impact from your fall.
Sit tight, I’ll have a member of my team in soon. Oh, and here. A treat as always.”
Just like last time, he hands me a red lollipop.
I look at it but don’t remove the wrapper. The last time I had one was for a whole other reason. This feels like something I shouldn’t be rewarded for.
“Thank you,” I mumble to the doctor, who retreats with a smile as the door closes behind him.
I look at Vinny, whose eyes are already on me. I stay silent, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to the head of a Mafia family who thought I stole from them last night and may have killed his youngest brother today.
He stands and heads for the door, turning at the last second to give me just his side profile.
“He’s alive.”
Then he walks out and shuts the door behind him, taking all the air with him as my breathing becomes erratic at what he just said.
The tears I’ve held back since I cried at the club finally fall. He’s alive. I didn’t kill him.
I saved him.
I grab the cup and take a giant gulp to calm down. But as the liquid goes down, more tears come to my eyes.
Orange juice.
He gave me orange juice.
The drink I always chose at Tommy’s place.