A Dangerous Man

– That’s cool.

– Yeah, but. The club is sending me back down. After the game. Sending me back for rookie ball. Said I can play, but I’m not ready to handle life in the City. So. Shit.

– Sorry.

– Yeah.

Another player ducks out the clubhouse door. He nods at Miguel and heads for the tu

– So look. I’m thinking.

– Yeah?

– I’m thinking this is maybe not go

– That’s right.

– Well. I mean, that’s not cool. Those guys hurt my best friend. That’s not. I can’t live like that, man.

– Uh-huh.

– So. I’m thinking you can talk to him. And tell him I want to make an arrangement. Start maybe making some payments. Work something out. And. I mean. I can’t.

He gestures, taking in the stadium above us.

– This, all this. The game. This chance. I don’t want to lose this. Jay. I can’t have that kind of thing happen. Ever. I can always play. That I can do. I can play this game wherever. But I can’t have my friends being hurt. So. Will you talk to him? Tell him. I don’t know what.

A guy comes around the corner. He’s carrying the hot dog costumes. I wait till he’s gone.

– Here’s the thing, Miguel. I talked to David this morning. And things are go

– Oh, shit.

– No. Now. Look. Don’t worry about it. It’s go

– I don’t know, man. This is. I need out.

– We’re go

I put my hand on the box.

– This is for you. I mean, really, it’s for whoever comes to collect on your paper. What you do is, you put this someplace safe. When they come around, when they call, you give them this.

He looks sideways at the box.

– Man, do you know what I owe?

– Yeah.

– And you got something there that will cover it?

– Yeah. This will do it.

– And. Is that drugs?

– No.

– ’Cause I want nothing to do. No more trouble, OK. So no drugs.

– Miguel. Take the box. I want you to have this. Get out, man. Get out of trouble. This will do that. Take it, man. Take it and use it. Trust me.

He doesn’t say anything. Then he reaches out and puts his hand on the box.

– OK. OK, man. Thanks.

– Sure. OK. I. I got to go.

– What?

– I got to.

– The game!

– Yeah, I know.

– Maaan.

– Sorry.

– So when?

– Later. Later sometime.

– That bites, man.

– Yeah.

I put out my hand. He grabs me and crushes me, slapping my back hard a couple times. It feels like he’s breaking more of my ribs.

Miguel goes back into the clubhouse to get ready. He has to play the rubber game of the first series of the season. Must be nice. I walk back out the tu

Outside, the sun is still hot and it still feels good. Cops may be at David’s right now, but they won’t know who they’re looking for for awhile. I can figure out what to do with A

BANG!

The shock wave vibrates out of the car, ruffling my shirt, and dissipates over the parking lot. I bend over and look inside. A

She says something.

I look at her.

– What?

She shakes her head.

– No.

I nod.

– It’s OK.

– No. I’m sorry. I.

– It’s OK.

I reach for the gun.

– Here, let me have that.

She lowers the gun.

BANG!

This one is up higher. The tape slows it down, but it gets through and buries itself between two ribs. I inhale and feel it grinding against the bone.

It hurts.

I black out.

I come to.

A

I point at the gun.

– I didn’t know you were left-handed.

She nods.

– Here. I’ve got it now. I’ll take it.

She nods, and pulls the trigger again, but the gun is empty. I take it from her hand and drop it on the backseat.

– OK. That’s over, that’s. Oh. Oh, man. Wow. This hurts. This really. OK. Here’s what. Can I have my jacket please?

She hiccups a couple times, covers her mouth with her hand, holds it there, then moves it away when she doesn’t vomit.

– My jacket, A

She picks up the jacket. I lean forward.

– Just, just wrap it around me, around my middle.

She leans over and wraps the sleeves around me.

– Good. Thanks.

I lean back, adjust the sleeves so that they cross the wound in my belly, and tie them in a tight double knot.

– OK. That’s better. That’s. And see.

I show her the hole in the tape where her second bullet entered. There is only the slightest dribble of blood leaking out.

– That one’s not bad at all. So now. Now all we have to. All we have to do is.

My head spins. I grip the steering wheel. It stops spi

– I’m go

I lean back.

– Why did you kill my son?

I turn my head to face her.

– What did he do to you?

– I.

– He must have done something.

I remember Mickey. How smug he was when he figured out who I was and he demanded money from me. I remember how he threatened to tell David where I was, how he threatened Mom and Dad. I think about Mom and Dad, what it must feel like knowing some of the terrible things I’ve done. How much worse it would be if they knew them all.

– He didn’t do anything to me.

– No. He must have.

– A

She closes her eyes. Tears leak out.

– Yes. Yes. He was a good boy.

I’ve started. I’ve started, and I find I can’t stop.

– And. I. I dream about him sometimes, too. Like you. I. I dream about all of them sometimes. And. If I could. A

I spin again. Stop spi

A

– I’ll get someone. An ambulance.

I look past her, through the window, and see the water beyond the boardwalk.

– That’s OK. That’s. Here’s what. OK, I’m go