Sinner's Ball (19 page)

“Might you know where I can find him?”

“Sailor doesn't usually confide in me. But assuming he did, it's gonna cost you more.”

My patience was at an end.

My hand shot through the bars and latched on to his throat.

“If you don't stop bullshitting me, I'm going to rip out your Adam's apple. Are you getting my drift here?”

I released my grip to allow him to respond.

“Now, where were we?” I said.

“I was just joking with you,” he said, massaging his throat. “Everybody knows I'm a kidder.”

“Great. You're a regular Don Rickles. Now, let's get back to Sailor.”

“Don't know where he is. Ain't seen him in a long time.”

“Where does he hang?”

“Anyplace where a couple bucks buys a bottle of Bird.”

“Can we narrow that down?”

An old man shuffled up to me.

“You looking for Sailor?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“He's gone.”

“To where?”

“To dead. About a week ago. Found him in an alley all froze up.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Used to say he wanted to hobo it down to a sunny clime 'fore he got gathered up. Funny word,
clime
. Never heard it before. Guess he never made it.”

I gave the old man a ten, and left the Majestic with no destination in mind. Eventually, I wound up outside a tiny church in Chinatown. My wedding was the last time I had been in any house of worship. But Sailor was
dead, and here I was. Kismet? Freud? Or a combination of the two?

Didn't matter.

I went in and lit a candle for Sailor, and wished him an eternity of sunny climes.

T
hat night I caught up with Dave and Anthony at Feeney's. They appeared to be getting along.

“Still haven't heard from Curtis,” Dave said.

“After you laid out his options, I'm sure he's all over it.”

“Better be. I wasn't kidding. Him or Ennis. Makes no difference.”

“Who are these guys?” Anthony asked.

“Curtis is a skank drug dealer who gave me his word and hasn't delivered,” Dave said. “And Ennis wants to douse your uncle's pilot light.”

“Any reason?”

“When it comes to my family,” Dave said, “doesn't have to be a reason. The want equals the deed.”

“Your father's definition of true love,” I said.

“You got a problem with that, Jake?” Dave said.

“You might say. If and when Curtis calls, I'm going to handle it. Alone.”

“So, we're back to that again.”

“You bet.”

“You watch a lot of television, right, Jake?” Dave said.

“Far too much.”

“And you like those nature shows.”

“Your point?”

“You're the college guy in the family, so I figure if you like that stuff there's got to be something in it. So the other night I'm watching this show about killer whales. There's this mother orca with her baby. And she's teaching it how to hunt.”

“Where're you going with this, Dave?”

“Just bear with me. So Mama Orca cuts this seal from the pod, knocks it around, flips it in the air a couple times, and takes the fight out of it.”

I saw the tension build in Anthony's face, and got up from the table.

“Save it, Dave,” I said.

“Wait,” Dave said. “We're getting to the good part.”

“There's no good part.”

“Yeah, there is. So now, Mama Orca, teaching by example, sort of nudges junior into the fray. See, she's telling the little guy that if he doesn't learn to hunt and eat, he's gonna die. And that's why I'm coming with you.” He looked directly at his son. “And so's Anthony, here. If he wants to be in this business, gotta get him off Mama's milk and give him a taste for blood.”

I couldn't even begin to decipher the expression on Anthony's face.

“Nicely put,” I said. “I'll be at the bar.”

I sidled up to Nick.

“You hear that?” I said.

“Your brother's nuts,” Nick said. “But, like they say, there's a method to his madness.”

“Every time I think I've got him figured, he surprises me.”

“That's what's kept him alive for so long. How do you think he survived guys like Jimmy Coonan, Spillane, Mickey Featherstone, and the other Westie Irish donkeys who were hell-bent on murdering each other? These guys were stone killers who would take your arms off with a nail file for the sheer joy of it. Anytime you were around those psychos, a bloodbath broke out.”

“Hell of a legacy to hand down to his son.”

Nick shrugged. “No one forced Anthony into it. He enlisted.”

Nick's cell phone chirped.

“I gotta take this,” he said.

He turned his back to me. All I heard was “We'll be right there.”

He dropped the phone in his pocket.

“It's on.”

E
nnis was due at ten.

We drove up to Harlem and parked down the street from Curtis's dealers.

“Where's that fuck, Curtis?” Dave said.

“He's here,” Nick said.

Fifteen minutes after the appointed hour, Ennis showed up. Nick saw him first, ambling down the street without a care in the world.

That was about to change in a hurry.

“It's showtime,” Dave said, in a low voice.

Curtis seemed to appear out of nowhere, and sauntered up to Ennis. They exchanged a few words. Curtis pulled a small package out of his pocket and held it out. Ennis reached inside his pants pocket. That was as far as he got. A tall, gangly kid came up behind Ennis and cold-cocked him. Ten minutes later, we were in the storeroom of the Yellow Dog, the club up in Harlem.

Nick did the honors. He hauled Ennis's limp body into a wheeled desk chair and wrapped him to it with duct tape.

Dave kicked the chair with Ennis in it across the floor and sent it crashing into a wall. Then he turned to me.

“It's time for you to take a hike, Jake,” he said.

“What're you going to do?”

“Find out where his girlfriend's holed up. But you're not gonna be around to enjoy the show.”

“Dave …”

His eyes went cold.

“You're my brother and I love you,” he said. “But it's time for you to go. Don't make me do something I don't want to do.”

I looked over at Nick, but he shrugged and turned
away. The time for arguing was done. My brother's resident monster had come out to play.

“Come on, kid,” Dave said to Anthony. “School's in.”

S
leep was totally off the table. So were Allie and DeeDee. DeeDee was right. I wasn't letting either her or Allie in, and probably never would. Why inflict my snakes on them?

While Dave spent the night teaching Anthony how to become his father, I spent it wandering the city. At about four in the morning, I cashed in my chips and went home.

At eight, I reached out to Luce.

“You sound terrible, Jackson,” she said.

“Pretty much sums things up.”

“What's going on?”

“I'm real close to reporting a crime.”

Her voice immediately switched to cop mode.

“Who? What? When? And where?”

“I said real close. Not quite there yet.”

“But you want to talk about it.”

“Hypothetically. For now.”

“You want to get together?”

“Nope. Rather just talk it out now. I'm kind of doing a toe dance on the horns of a moral dilemma, and I'd like your input.”

“OK.”

“Let's say there was a really bad guy who wound up in a bind. His mission in life was to end yours. Instead, he
wound up in the hands of a much badder guy whose mission in life was to protect you.”

“What's Dave up to now?” Luce asked.

“Off the record?”

“Maybe we ought to end this conversation right now.”

“I didn't get to the dilemma,” I said.

“Be careful, Jackson.”

“What would you do?”

“My head tells me that we don't need any more dead bodies littering the streets of this fair city. But my heart tells me that one less person trying to kill you is a good thing. Is that noncommittal enough for you?”

It wasn't noncommittal at all.

I
left my apartment, grabbed a cab, and headed back up to Harlem.

The guy with the medallion was standing in front of the Yellow Dog.

“Remember me?” I said.

He gave me the once-over.

“No,” he said.

“Name's Steeg. I'm with the folks in the storeroom. Check with Biggie if you've got a problem with that.”

His huge brow furrowed as he considered his next move.

“No need,” he finally said. “Go on in. Biggie's in the club. He says it's OK, it's OK.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Man, whatever's going on in there is truly fucked up.”

“You've been inside?”

“Wouldn't go in there if that was my momma screamin'. Just standin' out here and listenin' to that shit gives me the creeps.”

Biggie sat at a table drinking whiskey straight.

He looked up at me, and slowly shook his head.

“Bad business,” he said.

“They in the back?”

He filled a shot glass with whiskey and downed it. Then he nodded.

“What a night,” he said.

I left Biggie to his thoughts and walked into the storeroom.

It looked like a Jackson Pollock drip painting from hell. Ennis's blood spatter adorned the walls, the packing crates, the floor … and my brother, who had stripped down to his shirtsleeves.

Ennis, still taped to the chair, looked like he had fallen into a thresher.

I thought I was going to be sick.

Anthony stood off to the side wearing a dazed look. Bits of what I guessed was his own puke dotted his shirt. Tommy Cisco stood next to him, his battered face wearing an amused look.

But the big surprise was that Martine was in attendance. And unmarked. Standing right behind her was Nick, with a gun trained on her back.

“The party's over, Dave,” I said.

“Nah,” he said. “It's only just starting.”

“It's done.”

He gestured at Ennis with the stump of his hand.

“Look at the hard guy,” he said. “If you took a saber saw to my eyes, I wouldn't spill my guts. This fucker didn't think twice about giving his girlfriend up.”

“Steeg, please,” Martine pleaded. “He said he's going to kill us. All I did was run a whorehouse. You don't die for that.”

“You tried to kill my brother, bitch!” Dave said.

“I talked to Randi,” I said. “You didn't run whores. You destroyed them. But even you don't deserve this.”

I turned to my brother, and kept my voice as even as I could.

“School's out,” I said. “I'm taking them with me, Dave. Turning them over to the cops.”

“Ain't gonna happen.”

“Dave.”

“Nobody fucks with my brother.”

“We both know this isn't about me. Never was.”

He looked over at Cisco.

“It's time for you to do your thing, Tommy,” Dave said.

Cisco nodded, and pulled a piece from his waistband. Ambled over. And held it to my head.

“Back away,” he said.

“You're not serious, Dave,” I said.

“As nuns at High Mass,” Dave said.

I didn't move.

“You know this ends it between us,” I said.

He smiled. “It never ends, Jake. It's you and me forever and ever. Amen.”

“Nick,” he said. “Give me your piece.”

Nick reluctantly handed my brother his gun.

“Anthony,” my brother said, holding the gun out. “First, Ennis. And then, her.”

But Anthony was in another place.

“Anthony!”

He blinked a few times as if coming out of a deep sleep.

Then his body moved.

He took the gun, and pointed it at Ennis.

“Anthony!” I yelled.

The muzzle pressed hard against my temple.

“Don't even think about it,” Cisco muttered.

“Go on, Anthony,” Dave prompted. “Do him.”

The gun wavered in Anthony's hand.

Seconds passed.

“Anthony,” I said. “Listen to me. This isn't who you are. Just tell your father to go fuck himself. And walk away.”

“You can do this, kid,” Dave urged. “I know you can. Just pull the trigger. And it's done. It's easy.”

Anthony's hand steadied.

And then Ennis's eyes opened and fixed on Anthony.

He lowered the gun.

“I can't,” he said.

For a few moments Dave just stared at him.

“You're sure,” he said.

Anthony nodded. “I can't.”

Dave took the gun and patted his son on the cheek.

“You did good, kid,” he said. “Go home. I'll take it from here.”

Dave turned to Ennis.

“Now you get to choose who's gonna be first,” he said. “You or your girlfriend.”

Cisco lowered his gun and I walked up to my brother.

“Give me the gun, Dave,” I said.

“Not a fucking chance. They tried to hurt you, and they're going to pay.”

And then everything went to hell in a hurry. And it happened in a flash.

As I went for the gun, Martine made a break for the door.

And Anthony came alive.

His hand shot out and grabbed her dreads. The other hand wound up under her chin.

And he yanked.

She tried to pull away.

He yanked harder. Twisting and pulling.

Until there was the sound of a tree limb snapping.

Martine went limp.

Anthony didn't release his grip until her body slid to the floor.

My brother looked down at Martine. When he looked
back up, it seemed as if his world had suddenly gone dark.