Pedigree of War

Pedigree of War


Chapter 2: Own the One Thing You Can’t Buy


Everyone has a dream growing up. For Helena Divine, it was opening a cafe. Originally, she had wanted to own a cake shop because her mother never agreed to buy any sweets. Her mother was a very strict woman and she continued teaching her children not to bring the enemy home – the enemy being fattening and unhealthy food. She was a woman ahead of her times, concerned with issues that would only become the public trend about two decades later. Helena assumed that if she owned a cake shop, she could eat all the cake she wanted, all the time. Back then Helena was still DeShawn Williams. When DeShawn was 17, the cake shop dream evolved into a liquor shop, so that he could drink all the alcohol he wanted, all the time. After working in a bar and maturing quite a bit, DeShawn evolved into Helena and the dream evolved into a café bar, where customers could enjoy alcohol as well as coffee and cake, if they desired. Finally, the dream was realized and Helena’s Paradise, a tropical themed café with a bar and an ocean view, was opened to the public.

A straw chair flew through the air. The gaudily dressed black woman watched in horror as it flew across the café and crashed against the bar. She was still taking shelter behind a pillar, holding on to her pink feather boa and watching as the fight intensified in her beloved paradise. Her only hope was that the hoodlums wouldn’t completely tear the place apart.

She watched the tall blond punching the Gull’s nose. From the force of the punch the gang boy fell back, turning over a table, blood spilling on his green shirt. He held onto a chair as he tried to get up.

“Logan, honey!” Helena called over to the blond. “Blood is really hard to get off the chairs!”

“Taking care of it!” Logan yelled back and ripped the guy from the chair he was holding, punched him again and dropped him to the floor.

“No, don’t smear that thing on the floor!” she yelled at him, then sighed. It was hopeless.

There were several other young men engaged in the mass brawl. Nothing good ever came out of letting Gulls in. If they didn’t scare the normal customers, they harassed them or tried to pick up women. Today they had the worst timing, because not only Pack boys were there, Logan has also dropped by. Whenever he saw the green, he saw red.

“Okay.” Logan straightened up, his black boot still on the other guy’s body, pinning him to the floor. “It’s time to take out the trash.”

There were five Gulls fighting other gang boys. It was only a matter of time before knives were going to be drawn and Helena hoped there wouldn’t be a lot of stains. Then Logan drew out a gun and cocked it, before pointing it at the guy he held down with his boot.

“Logan!” Helena cried out.

Her bartender crawled from behind the bar, looking carefully around. “Pssst… Helena!” He whispered loud enough to grab her attention. “Can I take an early leave?”

“Early leave?! It’s 2pm! Your ass better be back here by 4!” she barked at him. He just nodded and crawled on all fours, looked back at the fighting people and then got up and ran for the door.

“I’m counting to three!” Logan called and raised his head, looking around the room. “If all ye fucking gangster boys don’t want a bullet up yer ass, you better scram. One, two…”

Both Gulls and the other boys they were fighting struggled to get out of the café. Logan freed the boy he was stepping on and then kicked him. “You too, bitch,” he growled.

The guy struggled to get up and run out to join his buddies, without even throwing as much as a glance behind him. Outside, the fighting continued and there was no moment of rest for the weary young gangster.

Logan stayed behind. He brushed the jacket of his casual suit and then reached inside for his cigarette pack.

“Fuck those damn gangster kids,” he muttered with the cigarette in his mouth. “Next time I see them, I’m going to murder ‘em, I tell you…” He cupped his hands around the lighter as he lit his cigarette. “Can’t have a quiet afternoon coffee with those little shits running around town.”

Helena sighed deeply but didn’t say a word. She didn’t like indoor smoking, but even she didn’t dare pointing out a no smoking zone to Logan when he was pissed off. She just fixed her wig, picked up a small hand mirror to check her makeup and went to open the windows. Her place had survived the rowdy boys once again. It was a good enough reason to celebrate with cake and wine.

The beaded string curtains over the door rattled when it opened and both Helena and Logan turned to look, wondering if any of the boys were actually suicidal enough to come back inside.

“There’s never a boring moment here, huh?” Mitch said as he walked in with his two friends. “We just beat up some Gulls at the deck… before that fuckin’ Hodge showed up.”

“Ya dumbasses are up to no good.” Helena shook her head. “Want a drink? I’ll give ya a free one if ya clean up the mess your boys left here.”

“Where’s that motherfucker Faolan?” Logan asked. “Usually you’re glued to his ass.”

“Um…” Mitch and Book exchanged looks. “He was with us.”

“He took off with some guy on a motorcycle.” The third boy provided.

“He what?!” Logan almost spat his cigarette. “That crazy son of a bitch… what’s he up to now? He better not bring some fucking bikers into town, I shoulda killed him when I had the chance.”

Helena rested her hands on the counter. They were all up to no good, but Faolan was likely the worst of them all. It was probably sheer luck he wasn’t there to test Logan’s short fuses.

~*~

Northway City was once a thriving port city and the largest in the region. The Great Depression in the 1930s marked the end of the golden age for the city and many of its rich citizens either left or concentrated around Fairview Hills, which remained the richest and most developed neighborhood to this day.

It was not where Jay lived. Jay’s neighborhood was perhaps one crime level below the nasty part of town, the part he had just escaped from. Jay’s neighborhood was mostly an industrial zone of small businesses and light industry. Many of the buildings used to be factories until four or five decades before and were transformed into residential complexes. So when Jay drove into the parkway of his apartment building, Faolan came to realize just how mangy the old building really was. Some of the red-brown bricks had turned green with moss.

Jay parked his bike and removed his helmet. He turned around to look at the kid. Before he could say anything, the boy jumped off the bike and grinned at him. “Ahh, you look even better up close,” he noted and stepped in. “I’m Faolan. It’s spelled F-A-O-L-A-N. I hate Irish names; I wouldn’t pick it as a nickname.”

“School trauma?” Jay was amused. “I’m also Irish, my name is...”

“J. Sheridan,” the blond hummed.

“Have we met before?” Jay asked warily.

“That’s what it says here.” The boy pointed at the row of rusty mailboxes at their side. “I just assumed you’re not Rebecca, Debbie, Nancy…” He tapped his finger over every name tag as he read it. “And you just don’t look like a Gordon.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you when you stopped by the dock. I was on the roof.” Faolan found the need to clarify. “I was curious because you didn’t seem to be a Gull.”

“That’s right.” Jay chose to be laconic. He locked his motorcycle and then opened the mailbox. It was all spam so he just he tossed it in the trash bin on the way inside the building. If he had any hopes that the kid would get bored and leave him alone, he was quickly disillusioned. Faolan followed him inside whistling merrily even though it was obvious he couldn’t carry a tune if his life were dependent on it.

“Wow,” Faolan said when he stepped into Jay’s apartment. His ‘wow’ was followed by a husky huff, which Jay suspected was another failed attempt at whistling.

“Wow?” he asked and looked around. His apartment was definitely not awe striking.

The blond looked around the less than scarcely furnished apartment and shrugged. “I thought you’d live economically, but this is really spartan.”

“I only need this place to shower and sleep.” He shrugged.

“You don’t even have a TV,” Faolan noted. “How do you live?”

“I do have a TV, right there.” Jay pointed at the living room.

Faolan looked around the room. There was not much to see except for one wooden chair, one shabby loveseat that probably used to be a different color than the odd shade of peach it was now, and a little makeshift stand with an old 14” off-white television. It probably didn’t even have a remote control.

“Okay… anything under 20” doesn’t count.” He shook his head, looking amused. “I like you, Jay, even though you’re not so hospitable.” He lifted his hands. “Where’s the bathroom? I need to take this scum off my fingers.”

“Ah, it’s over there.” Jay pointed at one of the wooden doors.

Faolan pinched his stained shirt and brought it over to his nose, sniffing and making a face. “Can I also use the shower?”

“Sure.”

“Wanna join?” Faolan winked at him. “You kinda smell like gasoline.”

“Ah, no… it’s okay.” Jay smiled nervously. “I like this smell…”

The blond youth gave him another mischievous look, before turning around to the bathroom. Jay sighed and nearly collapsed on the chair in the kitchen. He hadn’t realized how nervous that young boy had made him. It’d been a long time since he was on such high alert. It felt like one moment of lowering his guard around that angelic-looking boy could spell the end of him.

After resting for a few moments, and hearing the waters running in the shower, he got up and picked a glass from the cupboard, filling it with tap water. He gulped the water and filled the glass again, before sitting down, just waiting for something to happen. It was strange, he was normally never at home when it was lit by the sunlight. Looking at his sad barren apartment like this, he thought maybe he should get some paintings to hang on the walls, at least to hide the cracks. Maybe a few more pieces of furniture wouldn’t hurt either.

“Not hospitable, huh?” he chuckled to himself, musing over the gangster boy’s words. It was true he never had anyone over but his landlord.

He tensed when he heard the door. Faolan walked back inside, in his camo pants, but topless. His wet hair looked darker and longer. Jay was a little disturbed as he thought the boy had a nice torso, despite being so short. It looked like he was working out; but then again, it could be all the energy he took out beating people up.

“Can I please borrow a shirt or something?” Faolan asked rather politely. “Mine’s kinda stinky.”

Jay got up and put the glass of water down. The shared laundry room was on the first floor, but he had yet to put the last round of laundry in the closet. It was still in the basket at the corner of the living room. He felt strangely self-conscious as he walked over to the basket. He grabbed the first T-shirt he could find. It was just a light gray shirt with no print. He threw it over to Faolan and the boy quickly caught it and put it on. It was big on him.

“Sorry, I don’t think I have anything that would fit your size,” Jay apologized quietly.

“’Sokay.” Faolan shrugged. “Ahh, I’m thirsty.”

“Sorry, I only—“

Faolan helped himself to the fridge before Jay could finish apologizing again. The small fridge only had a pack of beer cans in it.

“Seriously?” The boy closed the fridge’s door. “That’s all you’ve got here?”

“I eat outside.” Jay rubbed his neck. “I don’t spend much time here.”

“No shit, it looks so lonely.” Faolan stepped in. “How about getting a dog or something?”

“No.” Jay waved his hands. “Dogs are great, but I killed a cactus once.”

Faolan laughed. “You know,” he said with a grin and barged even further into Jay’s private space. “Cacti are actually really easy to kill.”

“Oh yeah?” Jay stepped back.

“Yeah, they don’t need a lot of water so you either kill them by watering them too much, or by forgetting about them completely.” Faolan played with the edge of the long shirt he was wearing. “A dog wouldn’t let you forget about feeding it.” His amber eyes blazed as he looked at Jay.

“I guess… but I’m fine on my own,” Jay said and scratched his hair. He needed to find a way to get rid of the boy and get back to work.

“Look, it’s getting late… don’t you need a ride home?” He decided to be forward. That boy wouldn’t appreciate bullshit anyway.

“No.” Faolan shrugged. “But if you’re busy, I’ll visit another time.”

“Yeah, about that…” Jay didn’t want another time. He wasn’t planning on becoming hospitable either. “I don’t want any trouble and hanging out with gang kids is really not my thing, I’m too old for this.”

“Hey, I might look like a kid, but I’m actually legal.” Faolan furrowed his brow, pretending to be insulted. “It’s because of my damn mother’s genes. My dad’s side are all tall bastards, but he likes them porcelain dolls.”

“Don’t let it bother you.” Jay nodded, trying not to laugh. He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “There are a lot of great men who happen to be short.”

“Like who?” Faolan squinted at him. “Tom Cruise? Isn’t he kinda nuts?”

“I was thinking Charlie Chaplin, but that works…”

“Ah yeah. Napoleon was short too, wasn’t he? And also Genghis Khan…”

“Are those your heroes?” Jay taunted. “Do you know Gandhi? He was short too.”

It was interesting how naturally they slipped into the light conversation as though they were old friends. Without noticing, Jay began to relax. They continued to talk for awhile about world leaders and random things. Faolan was surprisingly a good chat partner with a lot of knowledge and many random facts, and even Jay had forgotten he himself wasn’t really a people person or into small talk in the first place.

The growl of Jay’s stomach interrupted them and he remembered he hadn’t eaten any lunch.

“I really like you, Jay.” Faolan still had a big grin on his face. He pulled out a cell phone from one of the pockets in his camo pants. “Let me have your number.” It didn’t sound like a request, but more of a demand.

“Uh…” Jay shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I don’t own a phone.”

“Seriously?” Faolan raised an eyebrow. “Everyone has a phone nowadays. Hell, even this homeless hobo I know has one.”

“Well, I don’t have a need for one, I don’t have anyone to call.” Jay shrugged. “It would just be an extra bill I don’t need.”

Faolan let out a long sigh and reached into the pockets on both sides of his cargo pants. Jay watched in surprise as he began emptying his pockets, taking out several phones and placing them on the kitchen table, along with several other items and one black handgun, a reminder he was a gangster after all.

“Here, you can have this one. It only has basic functions so even a caveman could work it out,” Faolan said and set one cell phone aside. “Don’t worry about the bill.”

“Where did you get all of these phones?” Jay asked, even though he felt he shouldn’t have opened his mouth.

The blond shrugged. “People gave them to me.”

“You mean you robbed them.”

“We don’t rob people, they choose to give us their valuables.” With the oversized shirt and the baby face, he looked like an innocent school boy, but Jay could imagine the ruthless ways he inflicted fear on most people, after having them fall to the trap his looks set.

“Your money or your life, you mean?” he asked after a moment.

“Uh huh.” Faolan was busy putting back everything in his pockets. He suddenly picked up the gun and pointed it at Jay’s face. “I never actually had to ask for anything. People are so fixated that they just assume things all on their own.”

Jay didn’t move. The blond angel of death became a blur as he focused his vision on the barrel of the gun. Faolan let out a chuckle and cocked the gun.

After a moment that seemed eternal, Faolan lowered his hand and unloaded the gun, locking it. “I gotta hand it to you, J. Sheridan,” he said. His voice lacked the amused tone that Jay had already gotten used to. “Most people shit their panties when they just think they saw a gun and you didn’t even break a sweat with a loaded gun shoved in your face.”

“I didn’t think you’d shoot.” Jay licked his dry lips, not daring to look away from the wild cat in front him.

The ring of a phone startled him. He looked at the phones still left over on the table. One of them was ringing loudly, some cheerful melody that didn’t belong in that room. Faolan picked it up.

“Sup?” he answered. “Ah yeah, I’m just about to go. Tell Logan not to get his panties in a wad… Ow.” He held the phone away and made a face. Even Jay could hear the flood of juicy language through the earpiece.

“Oh, hey Logan,” Faolan chuckled once he returned the phone to his ear. “I’ll come right away, hadn’t realized you missed me so much.” He laughed and then looked at Jay. “Well, J. Sheridan, it was a pleasure meeting you, but I have to go now,” he said with a sweet smile and leaned in, dropping the older phone into Jay’s pocket. Then, he stood on his toes and pecked a kiss on Jay’s lips. “I left you a charger on the table,” he said simply as though he didn’t just do anything special like kissing another guy. He returned his attention to the phone call and walked towards the door.

Jay just stood still, waiting to be sure the young devil had finally left. Closing the door wasn’t enough. He waited for the sound of the elevator. Only when he heard the noise of the rusty wheels fade away, he finally relaxed again. He walked over to the tattered sofa and collapsed on it, shielding his eyes from the light. The room was suddenly so quiet. He moved his hand to his forehead and looked up at the bleak wall. Now it was only him and the walls again and neither felt the need to say anything at that moment. His stomach made itself noticed again and he got up.

~*~

“Jay, what happened? It’s not like you to be late.” Hank welcomed him when he returned to the garage. In the end he had no time to go to his favorite restaurant and ended up buying a sandwich on the street, devouring it quickly before rushing back to work.

“I’m sorry, things got a little busy,” he said, his fingers flew to his lips. Did that really happen or was his long solitude starting to make him hallucinate things?

He shook his head and returned to work on another car. This was his life now. This was what he wanted. Building and fixing things with his own hands was productive, getting his mind filled with thoughts about a crazy brat with a pretty face and potty mouth was not.

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Like? Hate? Should I drop or continue? Let me know! Feedback would be appreciated.

* Faolan is pronounced Fwail+own.
* J is in his early 20s, I'm leaning between 24 and 22, maybe in the middle (will be decided later).