For Nothing (25 page)

“Enjoy the rum, Jack.”

Alex expected to see the rum pool there on the basement floor. Instead, it trailed off in either direction and then disappeared under the rug Alex direction and then disappeared under the rug Alex was straddling. Vaughn sucked his breath in and crouched to the floor. He flipped the carpet over and pul ed it to the side. He sucked in his breath as excitement crept in.

There was a clear outline of a two foot concrete slab. Alex, in an attempt to steady his trembling, told himself it was a place to keep excess alcohol. Vaughn took his pocket knife out of his boot and slipped it into the crevice of the slab. Using it like a crowbar he pried the concrete up and slid his fingers underneath the stone. With a heave, he pushed the block to the side revealing a tiny cubby.

Inside the cubby was a sack and a tiny palm sized booklet, the kind used for taking notes. Alex pul ed the notebook up and tried to open up the sack. Noticing the sack was closed tight with plastic wire, he made a slit in the fabric with his knife. As he pul ed the pieces apart, Alex almost fel back when he realized its contents.

Money. Lots of money.

Before Vaughn could get a handle on what he was dealing with, he heard the thud of footsteps descending down the stairway. In a hurry, he slid the stone back into place and kicked the rug back over it. Just in time, he tucked the notebook into the folds of his jacket, as Hi-Def came into view.

“Just like I said, nothing.”

Alex gave him a smirk and said, “Sorry for dragging your ass out here. Let’s go.” Hi-Def was al too happy to oblige.

Outside in the street, Hi-Def started toward the car, but Alex began to walk through the rain up the block.

“Where ya going?” Hi-Def cal ed to him.

“I just need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

Hi-Def hesitated but then got in the car and drove off.

Alex, familiar with the neighborhood having lived in it, walked with a purpose. He needed to see Charlotte and he had to see what was in this notebook. With any luck, it would explain the money he found. One thing kept sneaking to the forefront of Alex Vaughn’s mind, no matter how hard he tried to beat it back.

Jack was a dirty cop.

Rafael Rontego walked down the street, oblivious to the smal drops of rain that pelted his hat and trench coat. His hands were stuck in his pockets and his head watched his feet as he strode forward.

He wouldn’t even be going home tonight. He loved a woman once and he felt like now was as good of a time as any to say goodbye.

Love.

It felt like a mil ennia since Rontego al owed himself to even think of the word. Hel , Rafael didn’t even know if he did love her or if he just thought that maybe he should have. Could a man give his love to a whore anyway? Then again, maybe whores were al a kil er like him deserved to love.

If anyone could have seen underneath the brim of Rafael’s hat, they might have noticed something that looked foreign on the creased and worn face of the veteran hit man. A natural smile emerged as Rafael thought of that night. He spent five hundred bucks to lure a real looker of a broad as a date to Don Ciancetta’s wedding.

At first, Rontego didn’t even want to go, but The Pope made it clear that if one didn’t go, it would be considered a real insult, the type that would not be forgotten. So Rafael acquiesced and decided to attend.

Then, as if they were sticking it to him, The Pope and Don Ciancetta said they expected everyone to have a date. Something about no creepy lurkers watching people dance. Rafael didn’t know any women. Women made you sloppy. They made you weak. But rules were rules and so Rafael made a visit to the local Madame. She had a solution for him and al it would cost him was five hundred bucks.

“Be here at six. She’l go with you to the reception. What you do after, wel , that’s up to you two.”

Rafael handed her the five crisp bil s. She smiled with the satisfaction only a business owner could flash when presented with cold cash.

“Oh and Raf, do be gentle. She isn’t tainted yet like al the rest.”

“What’s her name?” he asked. Not because it was important, but it felt like the right question to ask.

“Elyse.”

Elyse.

Oh how it purred off the tongue. You could hold the ‘S’ just long enough that you could taste it, and then it was gone. Disappeared in the vacuum that absorbed al words ever uttered.

When he picked her up, it wasn’t the long legs that seemed to continue forever under her bright red dress that held untold mysteries that caught his attention. Sure, it was the legs too, but more than that it was the eyes, nestled as they were beneath slanting blonde hair that cascaded like a gentle waterfal and hid the bril iant blue orbs from view.

In al his years of kil ing and fighting battles that almost ended his existence on the earth, Rafael was never as close to dead as the moment he gazed into those baby blues and felt his heart quite literal y stop.

They enjoyed an almost perfect evening. He danced with her and he twirled her around like the dainty little thing she was. She laughed at his jokes and he was almost charming in his way. When it was over she invited him up and after they crossed the threshold of her apartment, they were on top of each other.

Rabid animals that reached an unspoken agreement.

He could stil feel the smooth texture of her lipstick as she glided over him and he would never forget the sweetness of her perfume.

“Something French”, she said.

Rafael looked up from his walk. He was under the stoop that led to her familiar room. By the light in the window, he knew she was awake. She was the only one who kept similar hours to the assassin.

There was something about Elyse that rung true in the assassin. He loved the way that she would take care of him. She even made him lunch a time or two. More important, she was there for him and there were not been many times when a person could be considered ‘there’ for Rafael Rontego.

The way she made him feel, Rafael felt it gripping him like drugs would an addict. He would lie with her at night or in the early morning and feel contentment he did not know in his childhood. He could watch her sleep and feel at peace. In the end, Rontego wanted to know that contentment to be his own.

own.

He asked her one day, “What if you put aside the whoring business and you let me take care of you?”

It wasn’t that she said no, that hurt the worst. It was the way that she scoffed at the idea. “I won’t let myself rely on any man, Raf. Men come and go, but I have got me to take care of.”

And that was that. She wasn’t, at the end of the day, there for Rafael the way he assumed. Life was ful of choices. Hers went in a different direction and so, Rafael did what he did best. He continued to perfect his craft and she took a backburner to anything that could advance the hit man in his profession.

At first, they thought maybe they could stil play the game together. She would keep on in the whoring business and Rafael would do what he always did, but they would know they were for each other and she never did charge Rontego again.

As time went by, that spark in her eye began to diminish. Life began to reflect in those baby blues and they weren’t so baby anymore. He started to resent her for giving away that one of a kind, bril iant type of light she had. As it grew dimmer and dimmer, he felt himself hating her for sel ing it so cheap.

The assassin climbed the stairs to her apartment and gave the door one loud rap. In a moment, she answered, and she stood silhouetted against the warm and inviting glow of soft lights beyond. She was wearing a pure white nightgown that slit along the leg. It revealed just enough of her thigh.

“Raf!” She said in surprise bordering on delight. It felt almost musical to the assassin after al of these hard years.

Her eyes seemed to catch some of their previous fire in that second, but then it faded away.

She shifted her weight and revealed a bit more thigh.

Rafael couldn’t tel if it was on purpose or not. Eyes were overrated anyway. He took off his hat as he brushed past her and entered the room. He threw his hat on a plush sofa off to the side and turned back around to face her.

“Dol .”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve come to say goodbye.”

Just like that, she was upon him. For a moment, Rontego felt like he could stil love this woman. But then it flitted away as they fel over one another in search of that instant of ecstasy. That was al life real y was, anyway. A series of moments that drifted on too fast; so fast that one could scarce enjoy them before they searched for the next.

They passed out next to each other, exhausted. When he woke up, Rafael took great care not to wake her. He pul ed five crisp bil s from his clip and laid them on the dresser.

He let himself out into the hal way beyond and whispered, “Elyse.”

*

Alex walked towards the north end of the block and stood in front of the doorway to the house that used to be his home. It was a quaint home, two stories tal and built mostly of brick. A solitary bay window overlooked the street. That was the main reason Alex purchased the home.

It’s funny sometimes, the smal , unnecessary things that remind you most of what a home should be. He passed by the place a few times since Charlotte and he separated.

She was asleep. Al the lights were out and somewhere inside, in a crib he built, was his baby girl.

Vaughn felt weary. His head throbbed and he became ever more aware of his disheveled appearance. His jacket was in tatters, parts of it were scorched. His hands were filthy and he could only imagine the layer of film that accumulated due to dust and ash and blood.

Alex turned around to leave. Then, he turned around again and before his courage could leave him, leaning on the door with one hand, Alex lifted the other and gave a sharp knock on the door, once, twice, and a third time.

At first, there was nothing. Alex thought that perhaps Charlotte slept through his attempt at awakening her. But then the house began to come alive. A light in the second floor turned on and Alex almost ran. Then a baby, his baby, began to cry from within. He heard the shuffling of feet inside and then the bolts to locks he instal ed began to click. Al of a sudden, there she was.

The door was open and she was standing The door was open and she was standing before him. She wore a ragged pink robe that he always hated, and her brown hair was tied up behind her head. Sleep was in her eyes and the baby wailed in the background. But there she was. There Charlotte was. Absolute in her beauty.

Al of Vaughn’s strength seemed to flee from his limbs as he stood there and a moment of silence passed as the two sized each other up. They spoke at the same time,

Alex whispered, “Charlotte.”

“Alex!”

He leaned forward and threw his arms around her, having no more strength for words. Charlotte pul ed Alex inside, and shut the door.

Fortunately, Charlotte could tel by looking at Alex that the questions would have to wait. For now she just said, “You are going to have to take a shower before you lay down anywhere in this house.

You know where the guest bath is. I’l lay out some of your old clothes, but I’m going back to bed. I’l wake you in a couple hours when I get up. Then, you can explain what the hel has happened to you.” Alex smiled weakly at her and walked through the living room to the guest bathroom. As he slid the door shut behind him, he glanced back over at Charlotte who was about to walk up the stairs towards her bedroom, their bedroom.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

She shook her head as she continued up the stairs, “Of course, Alex, of course.” Vaughn let the warm water wash over him, and felt its gentle sting enter his wounds one cut at a time as the cleansing crept over him. When he was done there was a set of clothes that were al too familiar to him resting on the carpet outside in the hal way. He slipped on the pair of jeans which felt a bit loose to him and a basebal sleeve knit sweatshirt, very much an outfit he would wear on most any weekend.

Alex wanted to go upstairs and look on the face of his beautiful baby, but he didn’t want to wake her. So he walked over to the couch and settled in under a hand woven blanket his grandmother made him as a newborn. It just fit over his grown body, but it felt al the warmer for the memories it brought back.

As bad as Alex Vaughn wanted to sleep, he found it difficult to sleep. He kept flashing back to the unopened notebook lying on top of the pile of clothes at his feet. He was dying to know what the contents held, but he was fearful of what they might say about Jack and any extracurricular activities he might have.

It became too much to bear and Alex rol ed over to his side and lifted up the red booklet.

Besides, what if Jack was dirty? Did it make him any less of a true friend to Alex? The answer was unequivocal y no. The two of them grew up together, and time and again Jack proved his friendship to Alex on a very personal level.

Alex decided right then and there that whatever this book revealed, it would do nothing to diminish Jack in his eyes. It was with that sense of resolve that Vaughn flipped the cover of the notebook over on its spiral joint. The first pages scribbled in Jack’s handwriting were the words,