‹ Prequel: When Three Becomes Two
Requiem of Revenge
Chapter 11
Before I returned to the hotel, I stopped at a restaurant. It wasn’t what they call visitor-friendly—more like the stuffy corner of somebody’s pantry than a dining area with its faded yellow walls and stale smells coming from the kitchen. But it was food, and that was good enough for me.
There were only four other customers besides me. One was absorbed in a newspaper, another had her laptop out and was typing frantically, and the other two seemed to be talking about trailer rentals.
I gave my order and listened to the discussion offhandedly—it was the only noise in the room, and it was more interesting than the stains on the walls.
“—So this guy you referred to me, why did he want the thing again?”
“Didn’t say.”
“They never say, do they?”
“No. Didn’t say much about anything, to be honest. I offered to give him some furniture for it, camping supplies, whatever for a few extra bucks, but he didn’t want it.”
“And how about the woman?”
“Oh, pretty much the same thing. She just wanted the space. You’d think with the economy these days, people would look out for a bargain, but no…If I don’t get better business soon, I might have to give in and take back all the ones I rented out.”
I kept listening as my hamburger arrived and I picked at it. It was nothing special—just more grumbling about terrible profits and the occasional oddball customers they’d found.
Eventually it bored me and my thoughts wandered. They landed on the topic I’d been avoiding ever since I’d gotten on that plane.
Was I really going to give up so much just for one person? Let my family and home receive God-knows what abuse just to keep Mike safe—something that might not happen anyway?
But if I had already come this far…
It had been nine years, nine fucking years that I had only really lived for my two friends. I did only the bare minimum of father and loving husband, letting Adrienne, Joey and Jakob chalk it up to Tre’s death I had never fully recovered from. Getting Mike back would be the final step of the transaction—completely losing everything else in my life. No home, no money, no family.
If I saved him, where would I go from there?
I dragged myself through my hotel room door half an hour later to find the red message button flashing on the phone by the living room sofa. Still grumbling over my lack of progress and fidgeting with anxiety, I figured it was some telemarketer and was ready to hit Delete. But out of some kind of curiosity I let it play.
“I know where you are.”
It was Marcus’s voice, scratchy as ever. I jumped back a little, startled.
“I know you’ve been here for a while now. Now that you’ve arrived—finally...”
I leaned in closer. This could be what I needed to find Mike.
“Greenwood Heights, in Brooklyn…and I believe I'll let you figure out the rest for yourself. I’ll be waiting for you.
“Tick tock.”
Then the dial tone.
There were only four other customers besides me. One was absorbed in a newspaper, another had her laptop out and was typing frantically, and the other two seemed to be talking about trailer rentals.
I gave my order and listened to the discussion offhandedly—it was the only noise in the room, and it was more interesting than the stains on the walls.
“—So this guy you referred to me, why did he want the thing again?”
“Didn’t say.”
“They never say, do they?”
“No. Didn’t say much about anything, to be honest. I offered to give him some furniture for it, camping supplies, whatever for a few extra bucks, but he didn’t want it.”
“And how about the woman?”
“Oh, pretty much the same thing. She just wanted the space. You’d think with the economy these days, people would look out for a bargain, but no…If I don’t get better business soon, I might have to give in and take back all the ones I rented out.”
I kept listening as my hamburger arrived and I picked at it. It was nothing special—just more grumbling about terrible profits and the occasional oddball customers they’d found.
Eventually it bored me and my thoughts wandered. They landed on the topic I’d been avoiding ever since I’d gotten on that plane.
Was I really going to give up so much just for one person? Let my family and home receive God-knows what abuse just to keep Mike safe—something that might not happen anyway?
But if I had already come this far…
It had been nine years, nine fucking years that I had only really lived for my two friends. I did only the bare minimum of father and loving husband, letting Adrienne, Joey and Jakob chalk it up to Tre’s death I had never fully recovered from. Getting Mike back would be the final step of the transaction—completely losing everything else in my life. No home, no money, no family.
If I saved him, where would I go from there?
I dragged myself through my hotel room door half an hour later to find the red message button flashing on the phone by the living room sofa. Still grumbling over my lack of progress and fidgeting with anxiety, I figured it was some telemarketer and was ready to hit Delete. But out of some kind of curiosity I let it play.
“I know where you are.”
It was Marcus’s voice, scratchy as ever. I jumped back a little, startled.
“I know you’ve been here for a while now. Now that you’ve arrived—finally...”
I leaned in closer. This could be what I needed to find Mike.
“Greenwood Heights, in Brooklyn…and I believe I'll let you figure out the rest for yourself. I’ll be waiting for you.
“Tick tock.”
Then the dial tone.
♠ ♠ ♠
I finally managed to write another chapter after two months...it's just been the combination of a bunch of things going on right now plus writer's block. I'm sorry it took so long.