Sonny folded his arms, looking down the alley then out toward the street, wondering where everyone was. “Don’t know who you’re talking about, never heard of those guys.”
“You killed my mother and father,” the kid said. “I was there, you put a bomb in our . . .” In that moment she heard the voices gather, soft sounds of laughter or wailing.
Sonny said, “I got my ATM card. I could probably get you a few thousand, maybe more. This way everybody earns and just goes home.”
Mark said, “Not about money.”
“The fuck it’s about then?”
“You have a filthy mouth,” Mark said. And then he fired his gun.
Lara watched Sonny, his eyes wide open, spring back, hit the ground, and roll over. There was an anguished and fearful sound and Mark shot him again.
After pulling and dragging Sonny behind the dumpster, Lara said, “He was scared, I like that he was scared.”
*
It was almost dark when Lara knocked on the door to apartment 2B. Nothing. She knocked again, harder this time. Mark stood nearby, out of sight. The fish-eye in the door slid open. A voice from behind the door, a woman’s voice: “Whadaya want?” There was a dog barking a tiny bark, a puppy’s bark. The voice saying, “Adorable uniform, you a Girl Scout?”
The door opened halfway, a redheaded woman stood leaning against the doorframe, smiling. “Aren’t you a cute one,” she said.
Lara said, “It’s my last box. Chocolate mint. Everybody loves them.”
A man’s voice mumbled angry things. “Ey,” he said, “tell her we already gave; tell her, will ya?”
Lara handed her the box, “Open it,” she said. She paused with her hands on the door, then brought them together as if in prayer.
A man sitting across the room on a sofa shouted, “Freddie, come out here and give this kid a few bucks, get her the hell outta here!”
The woman said, “Look here, check this out, there’s a wedding picture in the cookie box, a beautiful couple.”
“My mom and dad,” Lara said.
The man on the sofa stood up and walked to the woman, took the photo from her hand, went back to the sofa, and sat down. At first he seemed calm. But as soon as he looked at the photo, he didn’t seem calm anymore.
Freddie came in from the bedroom, a puppy tumbling around his feet. “Smokey,” he said, “cut it out.” The puppy was gray and black, a pit bull.
Freddie, his hands on his hips, saying, “What’s goin’ on?” The man on the sofa wiped his mouth with his forearm, looked up as Mark came though the door and shot him in the neck right below his chin.
The woman put both hands over her mouth and held her scream. Freddie reached for the pistol he had tucked in his belt. Mark took him with a clean blast in the forehead, proving once more that Mark Perino was one hell of a pistol shot.
The bookkeeping was real, all debts were paid. Lara picked up the puppy.
“Please don’t shoot me,” the woman begged.
“She saw our faces,” Lara said.
“I didn’t see any faces, I wasn’t even here, how could I see a face?”
“What are you doing with these animals?” Mark said.
“Earning five hundred dollars, thank you very much. And, by the way, there’s a suitcase full of cash in the bedroom. Take it.”
“You take it,” Mark told her. “Give us twenty minutes before you call anyone.”
“I’ll give you twenty years, I’m calling no one.”
Lara saying now, “Your friends murdered my mother and father.”
“My friends,” the woman countered, throwing her arms in the air, “no, no, no, not friends. You can trust me, trust me, you can trust me. I’m going to throw up.”
Mark said, “We’re not murderers.”
“I hear you. I’m so happy to hear you. Maybe God is with me today, maybe God has finally shown up. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
“You give him some of that money,” Mark said.
“You bet I will. Yes, I certainly will.”
Lara said, “I’m taking the puppy.”
*
Five minutes later they were in the car heading south. The pit bull sat in Lara’s lap, licking, squirming. She held him tight to her breast. “I feel good, I feel good now.”
Mark took a moment then said, “Lara, I know, I know how you feel.”
A motorcycle sped past, swerving close to their car. Lara turned and set a rigid stare on the driver, pointed her index finger at him, went, “Boom.”
The puppy growled.
Mark’s attention fixed on the highway in front of him, an odd sense of uncertainty began to rise. He could feel it taking hold. “Lara,” he said, “I love you. Please believe that I love you. I want you to know that no matter what, we share this road together.”
When he turned to her, Lara was staring at him. Her stare made him feel cold and he shuddered. She frowned and pulled at her collar. Her expression was entirely without emotion, without sentiment. He might have been a total stranger. She stroked the dog in her lap.
WALTZ ME ONCE AGAIN
BY LASHONDA KATRICE BARNET
Mount Hope