Page 13 of Spyder
“Don’t worry about it, man,” I tell him. “Judging by the look of this place and the way you live in it, there’s nothin’ valuable back there.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Domino strolls back into the living room holding a black gym bag. Wells groans and his face darkens. He looks like he’s thinking about jumping to his feet, so I tap the barrel of my weapon on my thigh, just to remind him it’s here.
“Look what I found,” Domino says.
He unzips the bag and shows me what looks like a thousand packets of white powder. Heroin, most likely. I whistle low and shake my head.
“You done fucked up now, Petey,” I say.
“That’s my shit. You can’t take my shit,” he shouts.
“Afraid I can. This is bein’ seized on account of it being fucking illegal,” Domino shouts, cuffing him on the back of the head to underscore his point. “What makes you think you can bring this shit into our town in the first place?”
“I don’t need your permission—”
“Actually, you do, Petey,” I tell him. “It’s like I told you, this is our town. And you don’t bring that shit into our town. And you sure as hell don’t sell that shit in our town.”
“This ain’t your town!” Wells screams.
“And I keep telling you it is,” I reply.
“Here’s the deal, Pete,” Domino says. “This bag right here is disqualifying. This bag is why you’re not welcome in Blue Rock anymore. Ever again, actually.”
“Pack your shit and get out of town,” I tell him. “You’ve lost all privileges to Blue Rock Bay.”
“You have until midnight. We see you on the street after that and we will fucking kill you, Pete,” Domino says. “Believe that. You stay here, you die.”
Pete moves pretty quickly for a big man and launches himself at Domino. I can’t squeeze off a shot without hitting Domino, so I hold back. Not that I needed to worry anyway since it seemed like he was expecting Pete to lunge at him. His fist slams into Wells’ nose, smashing it again and setting off a new round of agonized wailing from the man. And when he doubles over, his hands covering his nose, blood squeezing out from between his fingers, Domino steps forward and drives his boot into Wells’ side.
His breath bursts from his mouth and he staggers to the side. I slip my sidearm back into my holster, then step forward and throw a punch to the side of his face and I see a tooth shoot out of his mouth. Wells staggers and falls with a meaty thump, his breathing ragged and blood pouring out of his mouth. Just to emphasize our point, Domino and I both deliver a couple of more kicks to his gut, making sure we have his full attention.
“Midnight, Pete. And we’ll be checking this house to make sure you’re gone,” I say. “Clear out now, get out of town, or I swear you’ll catch a couple of bullets in the back of the head.”
Domino and I bump fists and walk out of his place, leaving him in a blubbering, wheezing, bloody heap. Message delivered.
Chapter Six
Bellamy
I carry the tray into the kitchen and load the dishes into the dishwasher, then clean up the rest of the things. Given that my mom isn’t eating much more than broth and crackers these days, there’s not a lot to clean up. I hate seeing her like this. I knew it was going to be painful to come home and watch her wither away to nothing. But even knowing that, I underestimated how painful it was actually going to be. Seeing my mother in her bed looking so small and so frail is killing me.
But I’m here for her. I can’t make this about me. More than that, knowing I don’t have all that much time left with her, I need to make sure the days we have are filled with happiness. The grief I feel for her can’t be allowed to encroach on the time we have. There will be a time for it, but that time isn’t right now. She deserves to have whatever time she has left be filled with joy and laughter. And I’m going to do my best to make sure it is.
Wiping away the tears that had started to well in my eyes, I take a moment to gather myself, then grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walk back to her room. By the time I get there, I’ve managed to chase away the tears and replace them with a smile.
“There’s my girl,” my mom says.
I hand her the bottle and then grab the pill dispenser from the nightstand and shake out her evening dose into my hand. She takes them from my hand one at a time, chasing them with a swig of water. When she’s finished, I take the bottle from her and set it down on the nightstand, then sit down on the bed next to her. Some mindless reality show is on television. I don’t watch much TV to begin with, but when I do, the last thing I would watch is a show about housewives in whatever city they happen to be filming in.
My mom, however, loves trash reality television. It seems like the trashier it is, the more she loves it. She watches them all. I’ll never understand it personally, but I suppose anyone who’s cooped up in bed literally all day will watch anything to take their mind off what’s going on in their life. If there’s one thing that can be said for these garbage programs, it’s that they’re distracting. And right now, she needs all the distraction she can get.
“So, how was your day, dear?” she asks.
“Good. Really good,” I tell her. “I started getting my new classroom all set up. I just need to get some things from the garage, and I’ll probably need to pick up a few things myself, but it’s all coming together.”
“That’s fantastic. When do you start?”
