Protecting Heather

This is a work of fantasy and fiction. The author does not condone any sexual activity among persons under legal age in real life.

Awareness is such a fleeting thing.  Consciousness balances on the precarious pinpoint of breath, and pulse, and synapse. A lightning storm forms the pinnacle of nature’s achievement… matter come aware of itself, and a world, and a universe. Like the vest which clings to the interior of the shell of an egg is the thin chance, the prayer, that we exist upon.  Our tenuous lives tremble, a tambour for life’s rhythms…like the beating of a heart.

For a moment, he became aware of that rhythm, and registered only faint surprise.  Time lost its flavor as he slipped into grey nothing. But not all was lost on him.  Some few words seeped through.

…Love…

…Need…

…Stay…

And there was one more word, one which came from somewhere inside.

Pain.

It became easier then.  All he had to do was follow the pain.

The sun arose on a new day, chasing darkness back down the alleyways.  People swept the sidewalks in front of their bodegas and pawn shops.  Delivery trucks made their rounds.  Life flowed through the city again.

A thick handful of minutes after most people were at their destinations and making their daily wages, Nick pulled into the drive to the rear of the ‘office’ and exited his car.  The dark circles under his eyes were immune to the sun’s influence this morning.  He slicked his hair back out of habit, straightened his shirt, and dragged himself into the office. He was dead tired, and the day was yet young.

On his way in, he nodded to a couple of familiar faces.  They kept their noses assiduously in their morning paper; only the brief glance of an eye returned his greeting.  That was just fine by Nick.  Like a marathon runner as he nears the tape, he strode into the familiar entrance and headed to the back, picking up confidence along the way.  Without even knocking, he headed into T’s office.

To his surprise, T was already there.

Good.   

“T… I’ve got news.”   

T-Bone was, as ever, a famously miserable bastard in the morning.

“What news,” He sniped back, still staring out the window.

“I found Heather.”

T-Bone paused his contemplation of the street.  His eyes locked with Nicks.  Bloodshot.  Sick looking.

“You found that bitch?  Where is she!”  He stood up with barely contained avarice.

“She’s out in my car.”

“Well… bring her in!”

“She’s too scared to come out.”

“Huh…. Why should she be scared to see me?  I always treated her nice.  Ungrateful little…”

“Maybe if you came out and talked to her…  “

T-Bone considered Nick, giving him a disdainful glance.  “Yeah  You never were that good with new talent.  Too soft, I think. Ok, she needs some kid gloves, we put on the kid gloves for the kid and get her out of the car.” Terrance’s eyes took on a hungry cast.   He squared his shoulders, cleared his desk, and started towards the door.  

As he got to the door, he turned to ask, “So where was she all this…!”  

With a sharp crack sound, his head snapped up sharply, his body jolted as if he’d grabbed the third rail of the subway.  The bullet’s path from just below his left ear, up and into the soft tissues beyond, put an end to the rest of that sentence.  

Nick watched as the remainder of what had been Terrance folded ungracefully onto the floor in front of him.  He stood where he was and watched him for a good thirty-count while he got his breathing back to normal.  Then he bent over the body, checking for a pulse… pushing aside the small stream of blood with his two fingers.  Nothing.  

He knelt down beside him, and withdrawing a hankie from his pocket he started unscrewing the silencer from the barrel of the small caliber pistol.

“So, boss… I guess that’s it.  It sucks for you, I know, but just so you know… even though I never enjoy this part of the job, I didn’t mind this one as much as the others.”

He looked around the office. “You sure left me a mess for me to clean up, but I look at it this way:  I can hardly do worse than you.”

Yeah.  I’ll start by mopping the floor.  It’s gonna be a hell of a busy week.  

He had to roll Terrance out of the way of the door before he could get it open.  Walking back to the first set of tables, he sat down opposite the two men in blue suites who still held their papers.  Now, though, he had their attention.

“It’s done.” He said simply.

The bigger one nodded gravely.  “We’ll take care of things here.  You’re wanted uptown.  Gennaro said to pass along that he wanted to meet with you after this. Lunch at his place.”

Nick swallowed, but had expected this.  “Jeez, I need a shot.”

The big man gave him a look of concern. “Take my advice:  Don’t.  He’s taking a dim view of guys who use just about anything these days. Just between you and me, you already got this thing in hand.  It’s yours to lose.”   

“Thanks, Paulie.  I appreciate that coming from you.” Nick had a lot of respect for the big guy.  He almost never said anything, but when he did, he made it count.

The two men got up and headed for the office.  As Nick walked out back towards his car again, he allowed himself to relax.  

Finally, after all these years. I did it.  By the rules. It’s gonna feel good to run this right.  To be calling the shots.  

He slid into the drivers seat.  Oh, yeah. Finally, I’m in control.

From the back seat, Janice cocked back the hammer on her snub nose .38, the distinctive click-click sound loud in the quite car interior.

“Hands on the wheel, where I can see ‘em.  We need to talk, Nick.” Janice said, dead-pan.

In the rear view mirror, he caught her eyes.  “Ah, fuck…  Janice!?  Aw, c’mon… not now!”

“You think I’m kidding?  I ought to just do this and walk away.  For some reason I feel charitable.  So what’s it going to be?”

Nick grabbed the wheel.

Dammit! It’s gonna be another one of those days…

Morning sun was casting ever stronger rays through the slats of partially open blinds. He felt terribly cold, and incredibly thankful to be alive.

He waited, counting breaths, locating pains, taking inventory.  His left side was all a dull ache. Just below his ribs, and all along his back on that side, warning flares went off if he moved at all.

He felt a cough come on, and even though he muffled it considerably, it was exquisite agony.  A groan of pain escaped him as he tried to settle into a more comfortable position.

After a few minutes, a nurse came in.  Big, strong, stern, and matronly, she looked like she could have got her degree on a football scholarship.  Her nametag said “Rhonda”.

Rhonda saw right away that he was awake.

“..how long…”  he managed to croak.

“You got here yesterday.  From the look of your chart, I’m as surprised to see you up this morning as you probably are to see me at all.  And don’t think your influential friends scare me.  I’m not going to take any nonsense from you, you hear me?”

Oliver was confused, but she ploughed on. “Poor thing, she’s been up all night.  Must have finally just passed out.  And as for her, I ought to find out who her momma is and call her to come get her.”  

As she talked, she efficiently if not gently checked his vital signs, swapped out the IV bag, and checked various drainage tubes and bandages. She was careful not to wake Heather.

“You’ll be glad to hear, I found a turtleneck sweater for her in the guest clothing bin that should cover up that interesting necklace.  I’m sure that might raise some embarrassing questions.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows, waiting anxiously.  

Looking around, Rhonda surreptitiously added, “I used to be in the scene myself. I’m no angel, just so you know. That’s how I believed her when she claimed to be your wife.”

“tell me…  what… happened…”

“Honey, I should let the Dr. go over all that.  He’ll be around in about an hour.  What I can say is that you took one in the left abdomen.  You almost bled out, but you got here in time to stop the bleeding. It nicked your kidney.  You were in surgery for 3 hours yesterday, and came in from recovery about 3 am.  Beyond that, you’ll just have to be ok with being alive.”

“..thank… you…” he managed to gasp out, as he gingerly reached up with his right hand and placed it on Heather’s arm.   

Her expression softened as she looked at Heather, then back at him. She busied herself drawing up an injection.  “My guess is, you’re not the one who started the trouble. Your ‘friend’ must know someone in high places.  I’m supposed to let you know that there won’t be any questions about the reasons for your being here. So you just concentrate on recovery.”

Oliver held back a cough again, wincing with the pain when it broke through anyway.   

She nodded as if coming to a decision.  “Alright, I think I can trust you to stay in bed and keep out of trouble.  Also, you need what I’ve got for you, which is some morphine.”  She leaned over, and administered it into the IV’s port.  About thirty seconds later, blessed relief flooded over him.  

“There, that should make it easier to rest now.  Anything else you need, hon?”  

“… call… my lawyer…  Rex Hamilton…. need him here with the papers.  He’ll know.”  And he gave her the number to call.  The effort taxed him.  She jotted down the number on her pad.

“Ok, I’ll let him know for you, but just because I like you two. Now you get some rest.”  She reached over and straightened out the covers over Heather and him.  Stepping back, she looked perfectly motherly.  

Oliver allowed himself to let go, as the morphine hit him again with a wavelike floating feeling.  He warmed himself a bit with the thought of the papers that Hamilton would soon be dropping into his satchel.  As for the papers, the passport had been the hardest and most expensive one to acquire.  It was the lynchpin that had allowed him to acquire the rest. In contrast, the most important paper to Oliver, the marriage license, had been the most easy to acquire.