Fishbones Book II – Chapter 39: Gold

Posted On January 20, 2021

by Eyugho

“Do you want to come?” was all Ferris had said, but those five words might have changed everything. It had taken him a minute to remember who Olivia was when the call came. The woman they had met on Demos’ birthday, the one Demos had sung a “So Emotional” duet with before he got more or less trashed. She and Ferris had exchanged a text or two, but this was the first time she had ever called.

And she’d called at a bad time—everyone always did. He and Demos had just sat down with Seamus at the Sparrow Diner, ready to have a talk. To spend time together, like they used to. Ferris’ coffee had just been poured when his phone rang.

“Hey,” Olivia said. “You guys busy?”

Ferris made a sideways glance at Demos. “Kind of. What’s going on?”

“I need your help with a little something—I’ll pay. Come meet me outside the Tower.”

The Tower was shorthand for Southport Tower. A tall, glimmering broadcasting tower slash tourist attraction that offered a view of the entire city from an observation deck at 1440 feet. It was strange, when Ferris really thought about it. He’d been born and raised in Southport, but had never actually stepped foot inside that tower. From Olivia’s description of “outside,” it seemed it would stay that way.

“Sure,” Ferris said. He closed his phone with a clack. This wasn’t something he needed to run by the Ghost. It was money, and Victor would need a stent in his heart if he heard that Demos had passed over a chance to earn.

“What did you just agree too?” Demos asked from his side, his eyes narrowed.

“Olivia—“ Ferris glanced over at Seamus. “—needs help with something.”

Demos lifted a brow. “Olivia? Oh—oh. That Olivia. Where at?”

“Southport Tower.”

“Ah,” Seamus said. He set down his menu, clearly attempting to hold back a sigh. The look on his face struck Ferris in the chest. That disappointment. They’d be leaving him behind—again. After everything they’d talked about, after everything Seamus had spilled from his heart in the alley behind the restaurant. This plan to spend time together would be brushed to the side, inconsequential.

Ferris had already discussed it with Demos—at length. Seamus could stay at the restaurant. He could dip his toes in this side of their lives. See what he thought. Decide for himself. Maybe—

Maybe they didn’t have to leave Seamus alone at the diner.

Ferris waited until he caught Seamus’ eyes. “Do you want to come?”

Seamus’ eyes held his for a moment, wide. He took a second to digest the invitation, to put together the meaning of what Ferris had just said to him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, the corner of his mouth lifting to a smile. “I do.”

#

The only thing on Ferris’ mind as he drove was the hope that he hadn’t just made an enormous mistake—that this wouldn’t end up traumatizing Seamus. Forever. Again. It would be fine. They could hear what the job was, then make the executive decision on whether or not they would bring Seamus along for the rest of it. Right. Perfectly fine.

The Bentley came to a stop along the curb outside the Tower’s entrance. There were charter buses lining the road and a throng of people crowded on the sidewalk. The backdoor of the car cracked open and Olivia slid into the seat, bumping Seamus over with her hip. Through the rearview mirror, Ferris could see Seamus open his mouth to protest her rudeness, only to close it when he got a good look at her. His type, apparently.

“Oh, there’s three of you,” Olivia said. “I thought you’d be on a date or something.”

Ferris glared at her through the mirror. “Why—“

Olivia jabbed Demos’ shoulder through the space in the headrest. “Straight men don’t sing like him.”

“Ow, watch it,” Demos said with a cringe. “So, what’s this something you need help with?”

“Well, I thought since I did you that favor—“

“Uh-uh.” Demos turned to face her, his hands fastened on the side of the seat. “We paid you for that. This would be us doing you a favor.”

“Oh, so you don’t want money for this?”

Demos shrugged. “I never said it was a free favor.”

“You know, I could have just gone to Alonzo and—“

“Oh my God,” Ferris snapped. “Both of you—stop. Just tell us what you need.”

Demos and Olivia quieted under Ferris’ glare, still huffing like teenagers.

“Well,” Olivia said. “There’s this guy, a regular with a lot of us. Lately he’s been dine and dashing, says he ‘didn’t get his money’s worth’ or some shit. Did it to me just yesterday.”

Demos squinted at her. “Isn’t it your… boss’ job to deal with this kind of thing?”

“That asshole said it was our fault,” Olivia said with a scoff. “And he’s making us cover for the loss.”

“Huh,” Ferris said. “Too bad you can’t unionize.”

“Yeah, that reminds me—he’s a union guy. Vice President of the police union or something. Pat Buckner—goes by Buck.”

Of course—of course their best customers would be police officers. It would be a shame to pass up that kind of irony. Even Blakely, the last chief of police, couldn’t help himself.

“Wait.” Demos had a fist to his mouth, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I know him.”

“Who, that Bucker bloke?” Seamus asked. The first thing he’d said since the car stopped.

“Yeah, some anti-Semitic piece of shit cop that I kicked out of a basement. Uncle Vic almost killed me for it.”

Ferris rubbed his forehead. “If he almost killed you for it, why the fuck would you go after the guy now? I think—whatever you plan on doing to him will be a little worse than booting him from a gambling den.”

Demos slipped his “thinking face” back on, glaring out the window as whatever pile of gears and nicotine in his head did their work.

“Okay,” Demos finally said. “I’ll ask.”

Ferris stared. “You’ll what?”

But Demos was already on his phone, punching in buttons. He held it to his ear, chewing his lip while he waited.

“Hey Uncle Vic,” Demos said. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you something.” A pause. “I’ve got a job, but it would mean—maybe laying out Pat Bucker. Yeah, him. I wanted your okay before I took it.”

The car was quiet as Demos listened. For a long time. The voice on the other side of the line was barely a tinge of static. Demos made a few single word replies. A “mhm” followed by a “yeah.” Then, he hung up the call.

“He said okay.”

Ferris was still staring. “He did?”

“Said Bucker reneged on his end of the deal anyway. And—“ Demos slid his phone back into his pocket. “I could be wrong, but he sounded kind of—ah, nevermind. I’ll tell you later.”

“So.” Olivia tapped her fingers on the passenger seat headrest. “That means you’re down?”

“Yeah,” Demos said. “We’re down.”

“Hang on, hang on.” Seamus held up both hands. “We’re going after a police officer?”

Demos was rolling down his window, a cigarette hanging from his teeth. “Seamus—I don’t think he’s going to run and tell everyone at the station he got his ass kicked because he didn’t pay a prostitute. I mean, just a hunch.”

Olivia gestured over to Seamus and Ferris with her thumb. “You’re bringing Pinky and the Brain, right? I mean, no offense, but you don’t have the—presence of an ass-kicker.”

“Seamus?” Demos said, locking his eyes on his friend. “Is this something you want to do?”

Seamus exhaled. “Yeah. I’ll give it a go.”

Part of Ferris wondered if he’d only agreed because there was an attractive woman present, but it was too late to pry.

A lighter clicked as Demos lit his cigarette. “Where can we find him?”

“Oh, you’re going to love this. He’s got an “appointment” with me at the Bliss Motel in half an hour.” She passed over a room key with a number on the tag. “All wrapped up in a little bow for you.”

”Thanks.” Demos exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Just send him a good message. I don’t even care about the money—I just want his ass gone.” Olivia took in a sudden breath and held up one hand. “No, wait. I do care about the money. Bring me the money, too.”

Demos flicked his cigarette out the window. “Okay, but you owe us.”

“No,” she said as she opened the car door, stepping back out onto the street. “This is making us even!” The door slammed shut.

“You owe us! Bye!”

Ferris wasn’t sure if she could even hear Demos through the now-closed door, but it didn’t matter. As long as they followed through, this would keep them on Olivia’s good side. And after losing Hassan—

Olivia’s good side seemed like the right place to be.

#

It was a little odd, how familiar Demos was with the Bliss Motel. He’d never mentioned it before, but knew the directions off the top of his head. It was a semi rundown establishment off the side of the highway, the word Bliss encircled in neon on a tall, looming sign.

They found Room 2H on the second floor—the same number on the key tag. The paint on the door was chipped around the number and the beige curtains were closed. For reasons Ferris couldn’t quite figure out, Demos seemed uneasy—quiet and avoiding eye contact. But this wasn’t the time to ask about it. With a breath, Ferris turned the knob and the lock clicked open. This was the place.

They were greeted by a man’s coarse voice the moment they entered—the same voice that had been muttering beneath the television in the basement of that Chinese bakery.

“Good to see you’ve come around,” Buck said. “I’ve—ahh shit!”

The moment Ferris looked in, he regretted it. There the man lay, as naked as the day he was born. All those back rolls—all that graying body hair. Buck had scrambled backward at the sight of the three intruders who were quite obviously not a beautiful woman.

Demos immediately shielded his eyes with a hand. “Ugh, God! Put some clothes on you fucking creep.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Buck spat, his eyes wide and his forehead already damp with perspiration. “What is this?”

Buck had nabbed a pillow to cover his groin and Ferris immediately found himself pitying the pillow. Not that it was in a good place to begin with. The room itself was dingy and the furniture looked like it had just barely survived the 80’s. The carpet was thick enough for Ferris’ shoes to sink into and the walls had a faint, bleached-over mold smell. He made a mental note not to breathe in too deeply.

Ferris glanced from Demos back to the man on the bed. “Do you want the long explanation or the short one?”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

“Okay, short I guess,” Demos said with a shrug. “We’re going to hit you until you give us money.”

“You’re—“ Buck squinted. “Robbing me?”

“No,” Demos said with a thoughtful tap on his lips. “More like collecting dues, I guess? There are some ladies you forgot to pay.”

At this, Buck grit his teeth. “Hey—I don’t finish, I don’t pay.”

Ferris held down a cringe. That sentence, as short as it was, was much more information than he needed to know. Demos said nothing, only glancing at Seamus, then nodding over to Buck. Seamus took in a breath and rounded the bed, his shadow falling over the man’s frame.

Well, this was it. Seamus had plenty of experience beating down innocents from his high school bully days. A naked, grown-ass man was a little different from a teenaged student, but the idea was the same.

“Wait,” Buck stammered. “Wait just a—“

As Seamus wrangled Buck down and threw a flesh-stamping punch across his face, Ferris was suddenly grateful for his presence. If Seamus hadn’t been here—Ferris would have been the one grappling Buck’s sweaty, bare skin. Christ.

Buck groaned. “I don’t carry that much cash on me!”

Without being asked, Seamus punched him once more. Ferris could hear the crunch of knuckle on bone followed by a gravely moan. Seamus was actually pretty good at this. His face was hard to read, though. His eyes were blank—unfocused. Ferris couldn’t find any traces of moral distress on that face, but Seamus also didn’t seem to be having as much fun as Demos. Then again, few people ever did.

“Hang on, hang on,” Demos said, holding up a hand. “Open his mouth.”

With his free hand, Seamus gripped Buck around his cheeks, forcing his jaw open with a particularly hard squeeze of his fingertips. With his hands on his hips, Demos peered closer.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Demos said with a little smile. “A gold tooth. I wonder if that’s worth anything. Anyone bring pliers?”

Buck’s entire body jerked backward. He writhed under Seamus’ grip, but was unable to do more than jostle his assailant.

“I’ve got a SOG in my back pocket,” Seamus said.

Sure enough, Demos found an aluminum bodied utility tool from the rear pocket of Seamus’ jeans. He held it up to examine, letting the thin strip of light from the curtains glint over its surface.

“I’m telling Alonzo about this,” Buck said, panting.

“Good.” Demos snapped open the tool with a clack. “Tell that shit stain he’s next.”

At this, Buck could only stare. His breaths heaved in and out, shaky.

Demos clicked the pliers open and shut like a little toy crocodile. “Hold his head back.”

For a moment, Seamus’ eyes held fast on Demos. His expression was no longer hard to read. There was a very clear aura of “Are you fucking serious?” all over his face. With a side of “How did my life lead up to this point?” He sucked in a slow breath through his teeth, then pried Buck’s head back. Demos leaned in.

“Fuck—fuck! Stop!” Buck cried. “I remembered. I-I have cash.”

Demos frowned. “I don’t know, I’m kind of invested in this tooth thing now.”

“It’s in my duffel! Just check! It’s there!” Buck’s eyes snapped sideways toward a limp blue bag that had been tossed against the air conditioner. Demos nodded over. That was Ferris’ cue, he supposed.

Ferris crouched beside the bag, tugging the zipper to reveal its contents. The second his eyes focused, he cringed. The bag was stuffed with miscellanea, ranging from magazines to condoms. Police flex cuffs. A few pairs of women’s underwear that were much too small to be Buck’s. Suddenly Seamus’ role didn’t seem so bad.

“Ugh, fuck.” Ferris recoiled, drawing back his hands. “I’m not digging through this.”

“There’s—there’s a zipper on the inside,” Buck said.

Ferris swallowed—both whatever was in his throat and his pride, and pulled the side pocket open. A stack of fresh bills peeked back at him.

“Hm.” Ferris flipped through the stack, counting under his breath. “This isn’t enough.”

Demos clicked his tongue. “Sorry, Buck.”

The next thing Ferris heard was a scream. The clamp of metal on bone and the sound of something being wrested free from a bed of flesh. Seamus had looked away, eyes shut tight, while Demos examined the small gold tooth that was clamped between the jaws of the pliers. Buck was whimpering, gasping—blood slipping into bright red droplets on his bare chest.

Demos narrowed his eyes at the tooth. “You know, now that I’m looking at this—it’s kind of gross.“ He glanced over at Ferris. “You want to carry it, Fish?”

“No.”

One, Ferris was certain a pawned gold tooth would net barely enough cash to buy lunch and two, Demos was right. It was disgusting.

Demos’ attention turned to Seamus, whose eyes were still closed. “Seamus?” All Seamus could do was shake his head.

“Okay then,” Demos said. “I’ll just leave it on the dresser for you, Buck.”

Demos dropped the tooth on the worn wood of the dresser. It clattered down, a hint of gold and blood trailing red before rolling to a stop. Buck was lucky, in a way. If he moved quickly enough, he might be able to get a dentist to slap it back in there. This was one of Demos’ more generous days, it seemed.

“Let’s go,” Demos said. Buck’s body fell to the mattress in a shaky thump. Ferris slid the stack of bills in his jacket’s inner pocket. It wasn’t quite enough to pay all the man’s debts, but it was a start. Light flooded the musty room the moment he opened the door, leaving only their shadows on the thick carpet. Demos was the last to step out. His hand paused on the doorknob before he glanced back one last time.

“And Buck—consider keeping some more cash on hand,” Demos said. “No one’s going to fuck you for free.”

And the door to Room 2H slammed shut.

“Here,” Demos said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “Your SOG.”

Seamus rejected the offering with a hand. “Ah, you keep it,” he said, his voice shaky.

“If you insist.” With a shrug, Demos snapped it shut and slid it into his pocket. Then, there was a buzz from his phone. “Ah, hang on. It’s Uncle Vic.”

As Demos stepped away toward the vending machines, Ferris’ attention turned back to Seamus. He was staring at what Ferris was pretty sure was nothing. Pale, like a man who had just seen a ghost.

“You okay?” Ferris asked.

“All good,” Seamus said, then clasped his hands together. “I’d like to thank the two of you for having me along. I’m afraid I will not be joining you on future—whatever that was-es. Best of luck, though.”

Ferris leaned against the staircase beam. “Did Demos creep you out?”

“Yes.” Seamus pulled a cigarette from a crumpled pack. “Yes, he did.” The cigarette was lit and smoke drifted up along the mint-painted motel stairs. Seamus took a long, slow drag before his voice seemed to calm. “He always like that?”

Ferris glanced over toward the vending machines where Demos was still talking on his phone. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“It used to,” was all Ferris could say. “You still want to work at the restaurant?”

“Yeah. I do. Just on the ah—quieter side of the bar. And no more secrets, yeah?”

“Sure.” Ferris offered him a half smile. “No more secrets.”

The lump of lead that had been sinking in his chest was gone. Seamus would stay out of this realm, safe. Not because he’d been excluded, but because he’d chosen to. There was nothing to hide from him now. Nothing to pretend.

“Are you going to be all right?” Ferris said. “After this and uh—last week?”

Seamus was quiet for a long time, watching the pavement. Smoke lingered past his lips, clouding over his eyes before fading. When he spoke, it was soft—distant. “I had a bad dream.”

It struck Ferris hard. It felt like it was happening all over again. His first glimpse of death and the nightmares that followed. Night after night, waking up frozen, sweating. Heart pounding and head foggy. But this was different. It didn’t have to be that way for Seamus.

“You want to talk about it?” Ferris asked gently.

“Yeah.” Seamus glanced up from the ground. “I think I do.”

The sound of footsteps on cracked asphalt drew their attention to the right. Demos was staring down at his phone, his fingers tight on the plastic. That cocky little smile had left his face, replaced by something breathless.

“What did he say?” Ferris asked, his brow knit.

It took Demos a moment to look up from his phone. There was a burn in his eyes—bright and clear with intent. In that trace of a smile was a stoked flame ready to take down an entire city block. Brilliant, restless.

“Tomorrow’s your day.”