(Installment 17)
With starving appetites for arguments
you remind me of a secret
I was never supposed to tell.
***
He entered the pub and looked around, searching for a particular face. He scanned the bar and saw what he was looking for. He approached the rather stocky looking man who was just finishing a beer. He took and inconspicuous seat beside him as not to draw attention.
“Hey, you got the shit?”
“Shhh!” The man seated at the bar hushed loudly, drawing more attention to them than the first had.
He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You got it or not?”
“Depends. You got the money?”
“One grand – right here.”
“This is worth more than one grand, kid.”
“Actually, your shit is weak, unrefined and weighted. You’re pretty fucking lucky I’m even paying the full price.” Came the nonchalant reply.
The man narrowed his eyes and grumbled, slipping the other a small pouch of white powder. The other smiled, pocketing the stash and slipping an envelope into the other’s hand.
“Nice doing business with you.”
“You too.”
“You staying long?”
The man shrugged. “A few more hours.”
“Let me buy you a drink.”
“Sure. I’m gonna take a piss first.” He replied, venturing off to the men’s room.
Kenny’s faux grin immediately faded to a mixture of disgust and loathing. He reached into the inside pocket of his faded jacket and revealed a small, unlabeled bottle. He unscrewed the top, ignoring the dropper and poured the entirety into O’Connor’s drink. He neatly screwed the cap back in place and replaced it.
Not long after, O’Connor returned to the bar. Kenny watched as the man downed half the glass and smiled.
“I’ve gotta go. Still got some business to take care of.”
“I’ll be seeing you around, kid.”
Kenny smiled to himself as he left, ‘No. You won’t.’ he thought.
Outside, he lit a cigarette and started off idly toward his last errand of the night. It was a pain in the ass, but if he failed to complete the transaction… nothing would happen, actually now that he thought about it. On the other hand, he did have a grand’s worth of coke in his jacket that he had absolutely no use for. He might as well get rid of it.
He now stood leaning against the wall of some underground rave club, listening to the music blast through the layers of brick and sheetrock and metal and drive him insane. He inhaled a puff of smoke and relaxed with the effect of the nicotine. Ten more minutes, he thought. After that, he was going in and dragging that tweaked little junkie out by his hair. It seemed a fun idea, until he realized that he would have to go inside to accomplish that. He’d definitely gotten the shit end of the deal.
Nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, he caught sight of exactly who he was looking for. He approached the jittery nineteen-year-old and waited to see if recognition would spark just for fun. Too many synapses had been eroded by now, he guessed and reveled at how he was able to take advantage of the unsuspecting idiot.
“You still want it?” He asked.
“What?”
“This.” He said, waving the small pouch in front of the teen, who appeared hypnotized by its white contents. He reached out for it, but Kenny closed his fist on the pouch before the kid could grab it. A sadistic smile crossed his lips as he opened his hand and the boy snatched it quickly.
“Thanks, man.” He replied, twitching.
“No problem. I owe you.”
“So, how’d you like it?” He asked, opening the small plastic bag.
“Like what?”
“The GHB.” He said casually, inhaling the white powder.
Kenny just shot a disgusted look, one that the boy was too preoccupied to see. “It worked out just fine.”
“You got anymore?”
“Nope.”
“Christ man, you used it all?! That shit will kill you!”
A sly grin crept across Kenny’s lips. “I know.”
The boy inhaled from the bag and wiped away the white powder adorning his nostrils. “You want some?”
“No thanks.”
He shrugged and took another snort. “You going anywhere?”
“Away from here.” He replied certainly.
“Mmm, sounds fun.”
Kenny offered a strange glance, slightly confused.
The boy resealed the package and pocketed it, looking at the other man with a glance somewhat familiar in an unsettling way.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asked.
He recoiled, pulling away from the teen. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve got the wrong idea.”
“Hard to get, eh?”
Kenny was starting to feel a pit in his stomach. “I’m not like that, okay!”
“Like what?”
Kenny furiously grabbed the boy by the sides of his jacket, “Listen to me you tweaked out little cokehead, I’m not a fucking faggot!”
The boy laughed, “Chill out, dude, neither am I.”
He let the boy go, “What?” he asked, totally and completely bewildered. This expression registered on his face to substantiate his confusion.
“I’m bi. I’ll fuck anything with two legs. Or four.” He said, laughing as he pulled a joint from his pocket. “Got a light?”
Uncertainly, reluctantly, he offered the strange boy his lighter. All he wanted to do was get the hell away from this stupid place and these stupid people. He was beginning to wonder why he’d even bothered to keep his end of the bargain. He still would have gotten the GHB for free without bothering to fulfill his end of the deal. He watched as the other lit the joint and inhaled deeply, choking on the smoke for a moment before returning the small object to its owner.
“Seriously though,” he said, coughing twice, “you don’t go both ways?”
“Sorry, kid.” He replied.
“So you’re telling me that you’re one hundred percent, undoubtedly straight?”
“What’s the matter? The fucking drugs ruin your short-term memory?”
“Someone’s defensive…” he smirked.
“Go fuck a sheep.”
“I’m only Scottish on one side, buddy.”
Kenny flipped him off and started off for the bar. After a few drinks, things would make sense again.
He rested his tired, confused head in his hands on the bar. The sound of a glass clonking against the countertop caused him to look up. He saw the bartender looking at him with concerned eyes.
“You okay?”
He just offered a glance that seemed to say, “do I
look fucking ‘okay’ to you?!”
The bartender sighed, taking the glass back and replacing it with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
Kenny opened the bottle and took a heavy swig, the spinning sensation clearing his head. “God I needed that.” He sighed thankfully.
“No problem.”
“Oh, I took care of everything.” Said before taking another sip.
The bartender nodded knowingly.
“I’m curious, though,” Kenny said, “why’d you want him dead?”
“Look, I didn’t ask why you wanted Salantino dead.”
“So it’s not just a business thing…” Kenny mused aloud.
The bartender just looked at him for a moment. “How the hell do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Read people like that.”
“Pfft. It’s easy.” He said, lighting a cigarette. “You see that guy over there? The one with the glasses?” He asked, indicating a smaller man in a striped shirt. “His wife left him for another woman.”
“No fucking way.”
“See how he keeps fidgeting with his ring?”
“That could mean anything.”
Kenny took another swig from the bottle, “See how he looks at all the women suspiciously? Look, he backs away from everyone like they’ve got the plague.”
“But –”
“See? He just backed away from that blond.”
“How do you notice these things?”
Kenny shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“That guy over there, the tall one in the polo shirt – insurance salesman. I’ll bet you anything.”
“I’d love to hear your reason for this one.”
“Look at his physicality. He’s precise, talks fast and does that obnoxious laugh after every weak joke.”
“We’ll see about that.” Said the bartender, calling the man in question over.
“I hope I’m not being thrown out for soliciting!” He said, followed by the laugh Kenny had described.
“What do you do?”
“I’m glad you asked that question. I’m a representative of L&J property insurance, is this your establishment?”
“No.” He lied, “I just work here.”
“Oh, well then, I’ll be going back on over there. Here’s my card.” He said, offering both of them a small rectangular paper.
After he was gone, Kenny struck a match and watched the card burn in the ashtray with subdued laughter. “Told you so.”
“You win.”
“Thank you.” He said, taking one last swig from the bottle.
The bartender glances across the room and noticed that someone appeared to be observing them. She was pretty, even from the distance he could tell that much. She appeared to be of average height and a brunette.
“Hey Kenny, do you know that girl?” he asked.
“What girl?” He questioned, looking up from his cigarette.
“The one who’s looking over here.”
“She looking at me?”
“Well she sure as hell ain’t looking at me.”
Curious, he turned to see what the bartender was talking about. He felt that odd rush of familiarity – it was the same woman he’d seen in the bookstore and in the old pool hall. That had been… he was damned if he knew. They achieved eye contact and recognition seemed to spark in her eyes. Kenny could not remember her for his life, and decided that she was either a drunken fuck or someone from Before Chicago. He truthfully preferred the first choice, but something told him that the latter was the truth. He hoped he wouldn’t found out, but when he saw her walk toward him, he knew it was useless.
She paused a moment, as if to inwardly debate whether or sot to say something. “Are you Ken Johnson?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Who are you?”
“Leah. Leah Darrow.”
It sounded familiar. “How do we know each other?”
“We went to high school together. Lincoln High? I was a year behind you…I had this huge crush on you and Clark Campbell never liked me very much…”
He was now certain that he’d known her. “I think I know what you’re talking about. I was in an accident a while back and lost most of my long-term memory, though.” He lied. At least he’d win sympathy.
“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry, Kenny.”
“Listen… you wanna go take a walk or something? We could catch up on things.” He suggested, bored by the bar. This would at the very least entertain him. If he played his cards right, he might even get laid. After all, she’d said that she liked him in high school…
She deliberated a moment. “Okay.”
They left the bar and stepped out onto the quiet night streets.
“So, do you remember anything?”
“Not really…”
“I’d be thankful if I were you.”
He smiled, “ Believe me – I am.”
“You remember Clark, though, right?”
There was something about that name that made his uncomfortable. “No… not really.”
She just looked at him, “Wow. That’s weird. You must have done some serious damage to your brain, Ken.”
“Why? What was so important?”
“He was just your best friend. When you ran away, he went with you. You were practically inseparable.”
“I ran away?” He asked, confused.
“Yeah. You were something like seventeen. I was a sophomore, so yeah. You were definitely seventeen.” She said, “I can’t believe you really don’t remember.”
He was detached from the life Leah was narrating. He felt himself relating to the story, but could not find the corresponding memories.
“You know, I always wondered about you.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“After you left, I mean. If you were okay, what you were doing… that kind of stuff.” She answered.
“Oh.” He replied, for lack of a better response.
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.
“What?”
She sighed. “Never mind.”
All Kenny could do was shrug.
“You’ve really changed.” She said.
“I guess,” was his reply. “What was I like?”
“You were sweet, and funny, and always kinda nervous… you tried so hard to be bad-ass like Clark, but deep down you were the biggest sap ever.”
Kenny tried not to laugh at the stark contradiction. “Things change.” He said.
“Some things don’t.” She replied, leaning in to kiss him.
Kenny was taken by surprise, but nonetheless, pleased.
© Danielle Lovallo, 2004
Lyrics © Further Seems Forever,
“Against my Better Judgment”