“No one in particula’,” he said.
I could just about see his ridiculous, nonsensical grin in my head.
“Well, your information sucks,” I told him.
“So, you wanna go have a drink somewhere?”
“Busy,” I replied.
“Oh yeah? Doin’ what?”
“I gotta date,” I said right before I hung up. I looked down at Ashton, who had flopped over to his side on the bed and closed his eyes. He muttered something as I hoisted him back onto his feet again, but I couldn’t understand a word of it.
I carried my “drunk” friend out the back of the Westin and down the street to a quiet, deserted alley. I found exactly what I needed about halfway down the dank passage, and I helped Brad sit down on the curb by the sewer cover. It was heavy, but I managed to loop my fingers into it and haul it up.
“Whatcha doin’, hottie?” he mumbled.
“I’m going to kill you, sweetheart,” I answered.
With one hand firmly around his waist, I turned his body so his head was right at the top of the storm sewer entrance.
“Whoa,” he said with another giggle. “That makes me dizzy.”
“It won’t last long,” I promised.
I made sure my grip was firm enough to keep him from falling before I was done with him, reached down my leg to the small gun holstered beside my boot, and put it to his head.
“Rinaldo says don’t worry about paying him back this time,” I told him.
Brad’s eyes widened in recognition, but I fired before he could start to struggle
.
With his head in the manhole, the spatter all went down and I stayed mostly clean. There was a little blood on my boot, but it would come off easily enough. All I had to do was release my grip for his body to fall into the sewer and out of sight. I stood, replaced the lid, and walked back down the street. A cab took me to the bus station.
I leaned back in the seat and let out a long sigh which turned into a big smile.
I felt like the end of an A-Team episode when everything worked out, and the heroes all got to go home and live happily ever after while the bad guys were put in jail. Except, of course, I was the bad guy.
Whatever.
It still felt awesome to have had everything come together so nicely. Ashton was dead, Rinaldo would be happy, and I didn’t have to actually take my clothes off to get it done.
There was just no way I could have gone through with that.
Chapter 8 – Wretched Patient
I was fucking sick.
My head was absolutely pounding, and my knees ached from all the kneeling in front of the toilet I had been doing. Though I still hated vomiting with a passion, I was almost too exhausted to give a shit if my insides did start coming up.
I almost never so much as caught a cold, but whatever I had this time was nasty and unshakable. I had no idea where I might have picked it up, but I had spent the last day and a half puking up anything and everything I put in my mouth. Other than calling a dog-walking service to take Odin out on a regular basis, I had barely moved since yesterday morning.
To top it all off, every time I closed my eyes, I was hit with hideous dreams of blood, dust, and bodies all around me. Even when I could drag myself out of the bathroom, I couldn’t get any actual sleep. When I got to the point where I was feeling too weak to even get myself a glass of water, which I would undoubtedly throw back up, I reached for my phone.
Pride didn’t even enter into it – I knew when I was defeated.
“What’s up, brotha?” Jonathan said when he answered. “Haven’t seen ya in a while.”