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WingZ · Site Admin Joined: 15 Aug 2008 Posts: 127

Garraty rubbed his thumb around the edges of his moustache, his hand cupped tentatively under his chin. The whole time I was talking, he never took his eyes off me - not once and not now either. It was a queer bit of nostalgia. Here I was, clean for five years, not even so much as a parking ticket. Meanwhile, he’d been shitcanned from the force and nearly indicted. But that cop stare soldiered on and he continued to size me up like I was any old perp. For some guys, the old habits are hard to shake. For Garraty, they don’t get shook. Period.

“Are you a thousand percent sure?” he asked, finally lifting his gaze to see if anyone was listening. We were at a corner table in a bustling greasy spoon in hickville, but I didn’t fault him for being careful.

“Sure I’m sure,” I said, playing it cool. “I delivered the crib myself. Me and Manny Pedroia.”

“Where’s he in all this?”

“Manny? He’s nowhere. You don’t need to worry about him.”

“I’ll fucking worry about what I want to worry about, Clay,” he said, still barely speaking above a whisper. That was Garraty for you: he had this way of getting really nasty without even raising his voice.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. He was getting under my skin, but damn if I was going to provoke him.

“Now,” he continued. “You delivered a crib. So? Far as I’m concerned, that don’t mean shit.’

“I got curious,” I continued. “It’s not every day you deliver something like that. Plus the house was really nice. So I took the truck and went back, started casing. If anyone asks, I’m in the neighborhood making a delivery. ‘Oh, sorry, wrong address.’”

“And?”

“And every Friday night’s when they do it. A guy could slip in there pretty easily while they’re at it and score a ton of swag, so long as he’s careful. I’d do it myself, but…”

“You’re no pro, Clay,” he interrupted. “You’re a limpdick wannabe and you’d just fuck it up. But you did the right thing bringing it to me. Because I’ll get it done and I’ll get it done right.”

Thank God I had his interest. If he’d turned me down, I don’t know what I would have done. Garraty was right: I couldn’t have gone in there and done it myself. Some guys maybe, but it just wasn’t me.”

“Anyway,” I said. “About the split…”

“No split,” he said.

“What?!”

This came out a little louder than it should have and a head or two turned. Garraty’s face got cloudy in a hurry and I swallowed hard. Shit!

“No fucking split,” he repeated.

“Come on, man, I…”

“If it pans out, you get a finder’s fee,” he said. “IF.”

I’m not a violent man, but I’d had enough. Had it been anyone else, I would have decked him. Not Garraty though. Garraty didn’t play around. The first time he busted me, he got me to cop to a larceny charge by dangling me out a window. I was never so scared in my life.

“OK,” I said, quickly shifting gears. “You don’t think I’m pulling my weight, is that it? Fine. We go in together, split the work and the take 50/50. How’s that.”

“Forget it, Clay,” he said. “I never did like partners. Not on the job and certainly not in this shit.”

“Ron,” I pleaded. “I need this money.”

“I know you do,” he said, still cold and ornery. “But let me tell you a little something. One of the first jobs I pulled after I lost my badge was on a home in the Heights. Nice place, a lot like the one you just described. I didn’t really know what I was capable of back then, so I brought along some help. Big nigger by the name of Vernon.”

“I thought you didn’t trust black guys,” I said.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “Niggers especially. But Vernon was cool. He handled his shit. He wasn’t a junkie or one of these gangsta faggots.”

“Oh.”

“So we get to the place, everything’s going fine. Easy in and there’s tons of shit. Artwork. Jewlery. Even the fucking throw pillows looked expensive. We got ourselves up to our arms in swag, figured we’d be set for a long time. Then who should walk in but the maid. It was supposed to be her day off. Who knows what the fuck she was doing there? Anyway, situation goes south in a hurry. This bitch is freaking and Vernon isn’t helping things any by putting moves on her. She was Ecuadorian I think; a good looking girl.

Now the longer we stay there and the more we do, the less our chances of getting away clean. I should know. I busted enough fucking cowboys during my stretch in robbery-homicide and they all made the mistake of sticking around too long. But Vernon, he doesn’t have a clue. He’s got his hands all over her, telling her how he’s the man, what he’s gonna do to her and all this other bullshit. Finally, I convince him to just tie her up and get the fuck out of there. We get outside and he goes, ‘damn mothafucka, you done ruined my party.’ And that’s when I dropped him. Right there in the fucking driveway. Not because I gave a shit about the girl, but because there’s no way I’m splitting my take with someone that fucking unprofessional. That’s why I don’t have partners.”

I was shell-shocked. Garraty had just admitted murdering someone and he acted like he was recapping a baseball game. I knew right then and there I’d made a big mistake coming to him. Goddamnit, why did Shelly have to get pregnant?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You’re wondering if you made a mistake coming to me. Well, kid, I’ll tell you something: I’ve done dozens of jobs since then. No one got hurt and no one was able to finger me. You’ll get your money, Clay. You just leave it to me.”

“No one gets hurt?” I echoed, sounding like a naïve child.

“That’s what I said,” he told me.

I nodded and gave him the address. There was no backing out, not when I told him this much already. The sonofabitch actually cracked a smile for once and it gave me a bad case of the chills. The whole way home, I kept thinking about my pregnant girlfriend and my underpaying job. I thought about breaking my ass dragging boxes and how nice it would be to take a break, even if it was only for a couple of days. Anything to avoid thinking about Ron Garraty and that young couple he would soon be paying a visit to.

Justin glanced hopefully at the wall clock. 5:55. He told Lisa he’d be home by 6:30 at the latest. If he didn’t want to turn himself into a liar, he knew he’d better get a move on.

The memo was about 3/4th done, but the last part was always the hardest, especially when he’d been pouring over precedent and case law all day. But Dick Jarmond, the firm’s senior partner, had been insistent: get this done before you leave here today. And he didn’t dare say no to Dick, not if he wanted to set foot in a courtroom in the future.

But why did it have to be on a Friday, he thought? His office, the smallest on the floor, gave him little solace. Wood desk, wood paneling, wooden plaque with his name – he expected his eyes to turn to trees any minute now.

“Aaahhh,” he groaned, pushing back in his black leather swivel chair. The hell with formality and eloquence, he thought. This was an internal memo, not an amicus brief or an entry for Columbia Law Review. He hammered out the last few sentences, attached the document to an e-mail and pushed away from his desk, triumphant.

It was only 6:05, Justin observed as he shut down the computer and grabbed his briefcase. If he hurried, he could still make it.

He pulled into the driveway behind her Corolla and watched her walk toward the door with an armful of groceries.

“Need a hand with that?” he asked, sauntering up behind her.

“Hey,” Lisa said. “No, I’m good.”

Justin tilted her face toward his and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“You sure are,” he said.

She giggled a little and opened the door and they exchanged more kisses on the way in.

“Stop now, before I drop this,” she cautioned.

“What did you get?” he asked, taking a step back.

“Bottle of chardonnay,” she said. “I thought it would go good with dinner.”

“Good thinking,” he said, putting his hands around her waist and drawing her close once more.

“Would you stop?” she said, good-naturedly.

“I don’t know,” said Justin. “Maybe I can’t get enough of you.”

“Well I KNOW I can’t get enough of you,” she countered. “But we still have to eat.”

They cooked as a team and divvied up the workload. She boiled water in a big pot for the pasta while he cut up the chicken breasts. He had to remind himself to keep his eyes on his work or he’d lose a finger, but damnit, she was tough to ignore. She had blue eyes and blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders. Add a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a pink top and she was good enough to eat; forget the chicken. He often wondered how he could possibly be lucky enough to be engaged to someone like her, but then he had to remind himself he was a pretty good catch himself. Take the flashy law firm out of the equation and he was still tall and fit, with sensitive brown eyes and the kind of spiky hair women seemed to love running their hands through before he went off the market.

“You seem tired,” she said.

“I was working on a memo all day,” he told her.

“Poor baby.”

“Howabout you? Kids give you any trouble?”

“Meh…no more than usual. It’s a Friday, so they don’t want to be there.”

I hear that, Justin thought. Lisa occupied the gray area between tutor and teacher. She was a reading instructor at a learning center that catered to deep-pocketed parents of kids who couldn’t quite hack it. She was capable of teaching in a normal classroom, but opted to go this route instead.

“These kids need help the most,” she’d reasoned, failing to mention the good lot of them came equipped with silver spoons. Besides, his income was enough for the both of them and this gave her more time and less strain. And that was fine by him.

They took in dinner and wine and a good amount of casual chatter before tending to the dishes. Like the cooking, they split the chores: Lisa washed and Justin dried. It was often the other way around, but he was tired and she was sympathetic. Besides, her hands would be handling cloth soon enough regardless.

“You ready?” she asked after the last of the dishes was put away.

Justin nodded. Am I ever, he thought, especially on this night.

My search of the refrigerator yielded tuna salad, some deli meet, a couple of cans of Pepsi, but no beer.

“What happened to the Coronas?” I asked Shelly. I almost had to shout because she was in the other room watching TV and I was standing in the kitchen.

“You finished them off last night,” she said. “Remember?”

Normally, I would have given up and went in the other room to join her, but not that night.

“Goddamn it!” I snapped, slamming the fridge shut in frustration.

“Clay?” Shelly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Bullshit, nothing,” she told me. “You don’t say nothing the whole time we’re eating, you won’t come sit with me and now you’re slamming things. And you haven’t even taken off your work clothes!”

She was right. I was way out of character and it was all Garraty’s fault. I wanted to tell her about him and the deal I had made and about what I thought might happen. I had a feeling she would understand. She might get mad, call me a bastard, maybe even take a swing at me, but in the end, all would be forgiven. Because I was doing it for her; for us.

Instead, I stood solemnly in the kitchen and kept my mouth shut. I was 41 and running out of chances. Shelly was 36, which was what made this whole kid thing all the more confounding. It wasn’t unheard of to get pregnant at that age, it was just more something you worry about when you’re in your 20s. Anyway, I kept my mouth shut because I couldn’t risk it – that one percent chance that she wouldn’t forgive me.

Shelly was an Irish girl with curly red hair and a big ass. Lookswise, she was nothing spectacular, but that wasn’t why I went for her. I liked her because she seemed more real than the cosmetic tail I saw walking in and out of bars. No, Shelly had lived, and lived hard – from the big family with the dad who yelled and drank to the guys who got a little rough with her in high school to the jerkoff customers she dealt with at her job to me. She deserved better than that, I thought. But still…Garraty, oh God, I didn’t want it to be that way.

“Clay?” she asked.

“Look,” I said, knowing then what I had to do. “I have to go out for awhile. I made a mistake that needs fixing. Don’t worry though; I’ll be back before you fall asleep. OK, babe?”

I was 6’4.” My size was what allowed me to work deliveries. It was usually a job reserved for young bucks with clean records, but my PO was able to convince the bossman to make an exception in my case.

Garraty was maybe 5’11” tops, but strong, mean and tough. I didn’t have a piece and the best I could do to arm myself was a heavy wrench. Oh, sure, I thought about calling the cops, even anonymously, but I still nixed it. Garraty would waste no time giving me up if he got pinched. Then where would Shelly and I be?

No, I needed to go myself and make sure things didn’t get out of hand. He needed to understand I was serious about no one getting hurt. I couldn’t have that on my conscience, not when I’m gonna be a father. I knew what I was risking confronting him, but it seemed the only way.

“Clay?” Shelly called once more, but I was already out the door.

Justin got out of the shower and patted himself dry with a towel. He didn’t bother to cover himself as exited the bathroom. The nursery was but a few footsteps away and Lisa was already inside, waiting.

Telling her about his desire to be babied was probably the most difficult thing he’d done in his life. When he told his previous girlfriend, it lead to the disintegration of their relationship. He did not want an encore, a new voice telling him he was sick. So he kept it a secret and worked toward making sure it would remain one.

Somehow, someway she worked it out of him. They had been dating for months and were really into each other, but there always seemed to be this impenetrable barrier between them. She accused him of holding back, of not trusting her and said that it hurt.

“Whatever it is, I can deal with it or learn to deal with it,” she implored. “But you won’t even give me that chance!”

Finally, he broke down and told her, resolving, momentarily, to kill himself if she wouldn’t accept it. But the denouncements never came.

“You mean you want to wear diapers?” she’d asked, skeptical but not repulsed. He went through the whole spiel, explaining that the desire took root in adolescence, that he had never been able to fully make sense of it, but he accepted it as a part of himself even if no one else did. He laid out all the trials and tribulations of being an AB, inundating her with so much confusion that she said the only way for her to make sense of it was for them to try it.

It was awkward in the early going. During diaper changes, she would constantly stop and ask ‘is this what you wanted?’ and he would have to assure her she was doing just fine. But with practice, they both became more comfortable with it and it wasn’t long before it became their weekend routine. In time, Justin found it to be a necessary counterbalance to the stresses of work. If ever he came home in a foul or forlorn mood, he counted on Lisa’s nurturing to bring him back. Getting the baby furniture was just the next step, insuring not only this would remain with them, but they would remain with each other as well.

“How’s my special little guy tonight?” Lisa asked.

Doing pretty good, Justin thought. Listening to her talk to him like that never failed to turn him on.

She patted the pad atop the wooden changing table and he climbed onto it, laying his head back on the familiar pillow.

“Looks like someone’s happy to see me,” she teased. He blushed a little and gave a relaxed sigh. She liked to take her time with him, rubbing powder and lotion all over. Next would come the diapers, the thick cloth variety for nighttime use. They came equipped with Velcro closures – Lisa said she wasn’t going to put up with pins.

After diapering him, she reached for a pair of plastic panties. Justin had amassed quite a collection in a variety of prints and colors. That night’s selection was blue penguins, one of his favorites. She had him lift up his bottom while she slipped them on, snapping them tight against his skin after working them over his bulky diapers.

“What color do you want tonight?” she asked him.

“You pick,” he said.

“I already picked your plastic pants.”

“So?”

“Have it your way,” Lisa told him. She carefully combed through his assortment of baby clothes and selected a dino print sleep romper. He held out his hands and she slipped the garment over his head, snapping it shut at the crotch.

“All snug?” she asked

Justin nodded and let her guide him off the table. She ruffled his hair and playfully patted his padded rear end.

“Tell you what, cutie. It’s still a little early, so I’m going to have you take a quick nap. Then we can cuddle and maybe watch a movie.”

“I don’t wanna,” he protested with a faux pout.

“Too bad, mister,” said Lisa. “Because I know what will happen if you don’t. You’ll fall asleep on me and wake up tomorrow wishing you had been in your crib.”

“Can’t you just carry me there?” he joked.

“You really ARE a baby sometimes,” she said.

The crib was also wood, painted white with narrow slats. Lisa slid the side down and gave Justin a light prod on the butt. With no further protest, he hopped in and flopped onto his side, clutching a teddy bear under his arm.

“I knew it,” said Lisa.

“Knew what?” he asked amid a yawn.

“That you needed a nap.”

He merely grinned at her and lay back as she tucked him in. A final kiss was planted on his forehead and she raised the side of the crib.

“Cya in a little bit,” she told him, turning off the lights. He nodded and began to slip into a pleasant sleep. He didn’t usually dream during his naps, but that night he imagined he heard voices – Lisa and somebody else talking. It was tough to make out what they were saying and he stirred somewhat, as if it would improve his reception. Then a shriek came he woke up in a hurry.

When Lisa emerged from the nursery, Garraty was waiting for her. She gasped when she saw him and pressed her hands to her chest. He was in his mid-40s with oily brown hair that had begun to recede and a thick moustache that seemed to belong to another decade. He wasn’t a tall man, but his arms were thick. He wore gloves too, tight black gloves so he wouldn’t leave prints. That was the worst part, Lisa thought.

“You know I could have been gone by now with a lot of your stuff,” he said. “But I just had to see for myself. You actually keep your man in diapers?”

She studied him with a wide-eyed gaze.

“Wha…what do you want?” she finally managed to ask.

Garraty snickered. “Lady, some guy you’ve never seen before shows up at your house at night wearing gloves and you wanna know what he wants? Give me a fucking break.”

Her eyes began to water as the finality of the situation seeped in. He wasn’t wearing a mask, she noticed. Why wasn’t he wearing a mask? Unless, he didn’t plan to leave witnesses….oh God…..

“Look, just take what you want and go,” she pouted. She had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling for Justin. If he came in and tried to save her, who knew what could happen.

“Oh, I will,” he told her. “But first, I want to see the man.”

“No! I won’t let you hurt him.”

“I’m not asking,” Garraty said, lifting his shirt to show her the holstered Magnum. “I’m telling.”

That was when the shriek came.

Justin sat bolt upright in the crib. A quick shuffling of feet followed and Lisa entered the nursery with someone following behind her. The lights came on and he momentarily shielded his eyes from the brightness. The visitor slowly came into focus, right along with Lisa’s teary face.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Baby’s got a dirty mouth on him,” Garraty sneered.

“Justin, he’s got a gun, just do what he wants!” Lisa pleaded.

“Better listen to your woman,” said Garraty. “Or is it ‘mommy’?”

“You son of a…” he began, trying to climb his way out of the crib. Garraty gave him a rough shove to the forehead that sent him sprawling back onto his back.

“Don’t hurt him,” Lisa implored.

“You’d better tie him up before I lose my temper,” said Garraty.

“O…OK,” Lisa said, sniffling. She lowered the side of the crib and turned to Justin, who groaned and clutched his forehead. They had restraints put in the crib, which cut down on his tossing and turning, but were seldom used – and never like this.

“Baby, I have to,” she began. “He’s making me…”

Justin nodded weakly and let her take hold of his limbs. She pinned his wrists to his sides with tight leather reins and did the same with his ankles.

“It will be OK,” she mouthed, though she hardly believed it herself.

“We’ll have to see about that,” said Garraty. He squeezed past Lisa and slapped a strip of tape over his mouth. “Lawyer, eh?” he asked, raising the crib side. “I fucking hate lawyers. The bad ones will empty your pockets and won’t do piss for you, but it isn’t the bad ones that bother me. It’s the good ones – the ones that get all uppity about their right to put scumbags back on the street.”

You mean guys like you, Lisa thought. She was now wondering not only who this guy was, but why he was here. It was a big neighborhood and there were plenty of houses. Why pick theirs? And how did he know about their baby games?

“Now it’s your turn,” Garraty said. Justin let out a muffled protest and Garraty pointed the barrel of the gun at him. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll give you this to suck on.” His voice stayed steady and even.

“Please….what do you want?” Lisa asked.

“Strip,” Garraty commanded. “Shirt first.”

“I…I…I…” she stammered.

“Honey, if I wanted you that badly, I’d have taken you when I walked in the door,” he told her. “No, I’m just going to remind you what a real man is like. In case you forgot living with diaper boy over here.”

Justin struggled hard against the reins and despite her own fear, Lisa felt for him. Being helpless, the rudder that drove his fantasies, had become his nightmare, and now hers as well. Forcing herself not to be sick, she pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a white bra.

“Not bad,” Garraty said. “Now let’s see what else you’ve got on.”

Another wave of bile crept up her throat. She paused a moment before flinging the shirt in his face and making a run for the door. But Garraty was quicker. He took hold of her arm and yanked her back.

“You shouldn’t have gone and done that,” he said. “Believe me, you don’t want to piss me off.”

“Fuck you!” she snapped.

He seized her cheeks with one hand and pressed them together, giving her a hard, scrutinizing stare in the process.

“All right,” he said. “If that’s the way you want it.”

He abruptly spun her around and pushed her against the changing table. She felt her arms being pulled back and tape being wrapped tightly around her wrists.

“No, no, oh God…” she repeated, right up until the moment the tape went over her mouth.

“Now,” he began, then froze. Lisa paused too, even in her terror, as she heard movement outside the nursery.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Garraty whispered.

She shook her head and a moment later he was gone.

I was too late. Garraty had already come. His swag was already neatly piled up in the den. At first, I thought I’d missed him, but then I heard movement coming from the nursery. It still felt strange to think of it like that, but that’s what it was: a nursery. It just so happened it was for a very big baby.

When Manny and I made the delivery, we were both pretty confused. We were used to cribs, sure, but the kind for infants, not for this. It got even stranger when the woman, Lisa, showed us where she wanted it. It was a room with pastel blue wallpaper and stacks of diapers that looked almost big enough to fit me. Manny and I both looked at each other like we’d entered and episode of the Twilight Zone, but neither one of us said anything. Getting snappy with the customers was a good way to get 86ed from this gig. Besides, she was nice. Actually, they both were – they gave us cold drinks. Yeah, they were OK…just a little bit strange.

But even if I’d hated their guts, I’d still be in that house. It was the principle, I told myself. The principle. Back when I was on the wrong side of the law, I told myself I did what I could to get by. I didn’t really think of myself as a criminal. It wasn’t like I got my rocks off boosting television sets. That was why I came. Because if things got out of hand, I wouldn’t be able to take anything from Garraty and feel good about it. I’d be just like he is; worse even.

I’d listened to a bit of the commotion of the nursery – the woman pleading, Garraty talking too low for me to hear. I couldn’t hear the man, but I didn’t jump to any conclusions. I took a few steps closer…and that was when Garraty himself appeared.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked. He sounded irritated, but not off his nut – not yet anyway.

“I came here to make sure you didn’t hurt anyone,” I said. I was still scared of him, but I had to push that out of my mind. Lives depended on it.

“I told you, that’s not how I operate.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He scoffed at me. “I was a police officer for 15 years,” he said. “You think they’d keep me on that long if I was some kind of psycho? They’re the psychos, Clay, those two in there. This is some sick shit they’re into.”

“Bullshit,” I said, my nerve rising. “You told me yourself, the guys who stick around are the ones who get caught. So what the fuck are you doing, Ron? You don’t even have a mask.”

“I’m just giving them a little scare,” he said. “And I’m not worried about getting IDed. By the time I’m finished with these two, they’re gonna swear they got jobbed by 3 niggers in ski masks. But you know what, don’t take my word for it. See for yourself if you’re so goddamned concerned.”

I didn’t want to go in there, I really didn’t. I was concerned, but going in there made me more a part of it. They’d see my face, make the association. Then I’d be one step closer to Garraty.
“OK,” I said. “Whatever you say.”

Garraty had me walk in ahead of him. It was a smart move – I’d have brained him with the wrench if I had a chance. I’ll admit, I choked up a little bit when I saw them. The lawyer, Justin, was tied up in the crib in full baby garb. His face was red from struggling. If I was in his position, I’d probably do the same.

The woman, Lisa, was tied up too. Her top was off and she was grinding her bonds against the crib rails when we came in. Her eyes widened when she saw me and then outrage sank in. She’d made the connection. I felt really bad just then, but what could I do?

“How do you think I found out about this place?” Garraty said.

“What are you still doing here?” I asked. “You got what you came for, they’re out of the way. Let’s split, huh?”

“Hmm,” Garraty considered and pointed his gun at me.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

“You should have stayed at home, Clay,” he said and I knew right then he was going to do me like he did Vernon. Because I improvised. Because I interfered with his plan. Goddamn it. Goddamn him!

Just then, Lisa let out a muffled squeak and stomped hard on his foot. Gun hand out, he whirred around to face her. I saw my chance and I took it, pulling the wrench from my pants and bringing it sharply to the side of his head. There was a horrible cracking sound and guttural hiss from Garraty’s throat as he fell to the floor. He spasmed twice and then was still. Blood began to spurt like oil from a blown gasket and all three of us screamed.

I’d done it, I thought. I crossed the line. This was no TV set I was stealing; I’d killed a man. Yes, it was self-defense. Sure, I could rationalize it that way, make it seem forgivable. But that line that separated the good guys and the bad guys, the lions and the lambs, was gone.

“Oh fuck,” I said, letting the wrench fall to the floor with a clatter. “Garraty? Ron?”

There was no answer and I couldn’t bring myself to check for a pulse. The house’s owners continued to scream and I was very glad at that moment that Garraty had bothered to gag them.

“Oh fuck,” I repeated, losing my balance and slouching against a wall. “Fuck me. This isn’t happening. This isn’t fucking happening!!”

As the screaming continued, it occurred to me it wouldn’t be long before it woke up someone in the neighborhood. All I needed was for the cops to bust in right then and make my night complete.

“OK,” I said to myself. “OK. I can do this.”

I slowly peeled the tape away from Lisa’s mouth. I’d planned on talking to her, calming her down a bit. If I could somehow make it clear I didn’t want this to happen, that I wasn’t a bad guy, maybe I could get myself in the clear. Maybe I’d killed Garraty to screw him over; maybe I killed him to save their lives. It could easily go either way.

Lisa, however, was still hysterical and I had to replace the gag as quickly as I removed it. I turned my attention briefly to Justin, but he was as hysterical as she was.

“OK,” I repeated. It seemed to be the only thing I could say. “I need you to listen to me. Can you do that? Please?”

It took her awhile, but he was finally able to nod.

“I know….how this looks,” I said, forcing myself to go slow. “But I’m not…I didn’t want this to happen. Jesus, I needed the money. My girlfriend’s pregnant. I’m going to be a dad. I…I’m not...I’m not….”

Not what, I thought? Not a bad guy? Not like him? Cut the bullshit, I thought. You crossed the line.

I didn’t quite realize it at first, but Lisa had sort of leaned into me. She was burrowing her head into my chest and crying. I don’t know why, but I ended up putting my arm around her. It was as if some kind of dormant parental instinct had suddenly come to life.

“I want you to do something for me,” I said. “I want you to picture yourself in a better time, a better place. For me, it was….I don’t know, maybe back in high school. When I was in shape. When I had prospects. When I had a future.”

“If you’re not going to help me out, at least think of my kid,” I said. “Can you do that for me? Can you?”

She’d finally stopped crying and was nodding. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and worked my way around to untying her.

“You’ll make a good dad,” she said, her voice hoarse. She then lowered the side of the crib and went about freeing her fiancée. They were in each other’s arms, comforting each other, and I was gone.

If this were a fairy tale, maybe I’d have gotten away with it. You know, redemption and all that. To hell with the swag, I’d have settled for breaking even. But that wasn’t how it went down.

They got me on felony murder, put me away for 20 years for killing Garraty. They had us as accomplices in the home invasion. It was the damn wrench that did me in. Even when I told my side of the story, that’s what stuck.

“If you didn’t want anyone to get hurt, why did you pack the wrench, smart guy?” the lead detective had asked me, giving me the same cop stare that Garraty did in that coffee shop.

Justin and Lisa didn’t exactly rally to my aid. They weren’t hostile, they just wanted to move on and leave this all behind them. I can’t really say I blamed them. I never knew what became of them or of Shelly after I got sent up or of my kid or even if I had a kid.

I tried not to think of such things. That’s how I stayed sane on the inside. I figured I’d join the Brotherhood, bide my time and make parole before my 60th birthday. I’d do what I had to do, just like I’d always done. Just like I always would do. Only this time, there was no mistaking which side of the line I belonged on.

The girl was cute, but the guy seemed a little old, even for this kind of relationship. Maybe it was because his hair was thinning, Justin thought. They’d come dressed for the occasion; him in a flannel shirt and jeans and her in pink denim overalls with her hair in pigtails. He could faintly detect the bulk of a diaper around her middle and could definitely hear it crinkle as she rolled around in the crib.

“It’s comfy,” she pronounced. “Me likey.”

“Are you selling the table too?” the man asked.

Justin nodded. “I’ll give you a discount if you take them both.”

“Yay!” said the girl. She was probably no younger than he was, but she played the baby role to the hilt. Justin tried to remember if he’d ever tried to project that level of cute. It seemed silly to think of it now.

“Can I ask why you’re selling them?” said the man.

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you selling them?” he repeated. “Are you leaving the lifestyle?”

“I guess you could say that,” Justin said.

“Well, I think we have a deal here? Isn’t that right, pumpkin?”

The girl nodded, flashing a delighted smile.

“When do you want to take delivery?” Justin asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the man said. “Can’t you have someone send it over?”

Justin turned pale and felt the bile began to rise. He would go on to make partner. He would triple his income and develop a taste for coke and hookers. His beloved hair would fall out and he’d suffer a debilitating stroke, but that Friday would be with him forever.
END