I turned towards the decorative pile of stones and puked again.
“Oh, man!” Terry exclaimed. He
took several steps backwards to avoid the splatter. “You’re in bad shape!”
Responding to him would have been pointless, not to mention impossible given the current situation, so I didn’t. Besides, I had the feeling opening my mouth again would cause problems.
“You’re really lucky I was walking by,” Terry said. “Those kids might have given you some hurt.”
A lot of potential responses bopped around in my head like a Teen Beat celebrity, some with words and others with actions. At least one response included my knuckles. I might have tried to say something, but I really was a little afraid that if I opened my mouth, I was going to puke again.
I needed to brush my teeth and drink half a bottle of mouthwash.
“Where you going?” Terry asked as I picked up Odin’s leash and started back towards the building.
I pointed at the door of the apartments and then moved up to swipe the security badge you needed to get in late at night. Terry stayed at my heels, but when he started to walk in with me, I put a hand out to his chest and stopped him.
“What the fuck?” he said. “I just saved your life, and you don’t even let me in to wash my hands or something?”
“Not exactly in the mood for company,” I said.
“I just saved your ass!”
There were very few things that annoyed me more than someone who fished for compliments. Whether it was a chick wanting me to tell her she didn’t look fat in the fucking dress, a server batting her eyelashes for a bigger tip, or a punk wannabe thinking I needed to thank him for hanging around my apartment at an opportune time, I found the very act pathetic and undeserving of praise.
“What the fuck are you doing around here anyway?” I asked. Now that my mind was going in that particular direction, I did find it odd. I’d never seen Terry around this area before. “You don’t live anywhere near here.”
“I was down at Sweetwater’s watching the game and having a beer,” he said. “I needed to walk and clear up my head, so I cut through the park – figured I’d take the Red Line – it’s the only one running this time of night.”
The places he was talking about were close, at least. I shook my still fuzzy head and waved a hand at him.
“Go home,” I said. “I’m going to bed.”
The door shut behind me, and I didn’t look back to see whatever annoyed expression might have been on his face. Instead, I let Odin lead me to the elevator and then down the hall to the apartment. I didn’t even make it to the bed, but just the few steps it took to get to the couch and pass out.
As the room spun around and around and consciousness started to leave me, I realized the walk from Sweetwater Tavern and Grille to the Red Line train was the opposite direction from my apartment. There was no way a Chicago native like Terry would have walked the wrong direction to get to the L.
He lied to me.
*****
Most people probably thought my line of work was always dangerous and exciting. It could be, I supposed, but most of it was fucking dull. There was a lot more research than target practice or killing – that was for sure.
I Googled. I clicked. I hovered the cursor over balloon links to other sites. I read celebrity gossip websites and websites that debunked various celebrity gossip websites. Ashton was represented in every one of them, of course. Women couldn’t get enough of him, gay dudes couldn’t get enough of him, and straight ones put up with it because their women came home horny and ready to blow them.
I couldn’t seem to find any pictures of Ashton in compromising situations with any of the women, though. No scandalous love affairs with senators’ daughters or the co-star from his last movie. No groupies getting groped at parties or secret rendezvous in shady hotels with cute little American Idol starlets.
If anything, he seemed more likely to hang out with the starlet’s brother.
Interesting.
He wasn’t openly out of the closet, but he hadn’t denied anything, either. I was perfectly straight, but if he wasn’t…well, it was something I could possibly use to my advantage. Whatever got the job done, got me back on my regular pay and off of Rinaldo’s shit list worked for me.
The whole watching every word I said thing was getting old. I didn’t mind being overly polite to the boss – I was used to calling people above me sir, so it came pretty naturally anyway. Still, I felt like he was always waiting for me to screw up again, and I hated feeling like I was being evaluated all the time, especially when he compared me to a second-rate little shit.
There was the added little tickle in the back of my head that told me I was going to have to kill Terry Kramer.
He was in my thoughts a lot as I lay on my stomach at the local shooting range with my rifle up against my shoulder. With a twelve round magazine instead of a ten, I made multiple holes in the center of the target’s forehead.