No Rest for the Wicked

A/N:  Hey all!  This was actually originally a story I was writing for Shousetsu Bang*Bang but I didn’t finish it in time.  Anyway, this will be a two-shot, so there is one more part after this.  Enjoy! 

Part I

Aaron had the distinct feeling that he would be going back to jail soon.  Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't been out for over an hour and he was already thinking about revenge, or maybe it was the fact that in order to get revenge he had to first acquire a gun to commit murder.  Either way, Aaron figured that he hadn't seen the last of the Big House, but in his mind, getting revenge on the man who had sent him away in the first place was well worth it.

He hopped off the city bus at Third and Pine, waded through the crush of summer shoppers.  The palms of his hands itched and his eyes unconsciously sought out easy targets.  There were so many of them, it would be so simple; wallets sticking out of pants pockets, purses gaping open.  Aaron had to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself.  It would be too easy to steal, too easy to go back in on a misdemeanor.  Aaron wasn't going to let that happen.  If he was going back in, it was because someone would have caught him with a smoking gun in his hand and Kyle's body on the ground. 

He felt a thrill of excitement just thinking about it.

In a wide alley between an antique shop and an old bookstore, the bar was exactly where Aaron had remembered it.  The place was still reasonably crowded for a summer afternoon and the dingy windows and dark paneling still managed to keep most light out.  A few faces looked toward him as Aaron entered the bar, vague flickers of recognition flitting across their features before they turned away. 

Aaron paid them no mind.  He went straight to the bar and sat down, resting his elbows on the dark wooden surface.  The bartender glanced up from where he was setting a shot of clear liquid in front of a man with long, lank hair and frowned.

The barman squinted, peering out from an oily face and small, blue eyes to stare at Aaron.  He lumbered closer, the line between his eyes growing deeper with each step, like a ditch dug too deep.  When he reached Aaron, he paused just long enough to raise the hairs on the back of Aaron's neck.  Then he reached forward with a speed that Aaron hadn't anticipated and grabbed the front of Aaron's shirt.  Aaron was hauled out of his seat and partway across the surface of the bar.  The people sitting on either side of him looked up and then went back to their drinks.

“Good to see you too, Dan,” Aaron said, reaching up to pry Dan's fingers away from his shirt.

Dan spat on the ground and shoved Aaron back to his seat.  “Good to see you—you can go right back to rotting in prison for all I care.”

Dan began to thump away again, back down the bar, and Aaron followed him on the other side.  “Aw come on, that hurts,” he said.  “The first person I came to see after I got out is you—what does that say?”

“It says that you want something from me,” Dan said.  “And you're a crazy fuck if you think I'm going to give it to you!”

Aaron paused, let his foot down slowly.  He grinned.  “I think we both know what I'm going to say to that.”

Dan grunted and looked around, as though looking for something to do.  Eventually he pulled a shot glass from behind the bar and filled it with amber liquid, tipping it back.  Aaron waited.  Dan ran a hand over his balding head, picked up a dishrag and then set it down, and Aaron continued to wait. 

Dan stumped around, making drinks and setting them on the bar in front of patrons who looked up in surprise.  Eventually, when Dan had run out of things to do, he slammed both hands down on the bar.  Glasses jumped along with a few customers who glared angrily and then buried their heads in their drinks again.  “All right!” Dan boomed.  “What the fuck do you want, then?”

Aaron approached the bar, leaning against it to look into Dan's small eyes.  “Where's Kyle?”

For a moment, Dan's expression remained the same.  Aaron's heart beat a little faster because in that moment, he believed that Dan would tell him.  But Dan had always been the best at fooling people, for hardly a second after that thought had crossed Aaron's mind, Dan grinned.  He grinned a wide and feral grin that continued to grow until he was booming with thunderous laughter.

Aaron leaned away, his excitement souring in an instant, trying to keep his expression neutral.  Below the bar, he unclenched his fists. 

“Kyle, eh?” Dan asked, laying a ham-like forearm on the bar and glancing at a man to Aaron's right.  “Don't know where he is.”  The other man snorted, raised his glass in a mock toast and then took a swig.  “But if you find him,” Dan continued, “give him a good kick up the ass for me.”

He turned away, walked to a door that led to his shoebox of an office and slammed it shut behind him.  Aaron frowned, figured it unlikely that Dan was going to come back.  He reached across the bar for a bottle of whiskey because if Dan wasn't going to help him then Aaron was going to get a drink on the house.  He had just unscrewed the top when he heard something that gave him pause. “...shipment's just come in.  Glocks, what I heard.”

Aaron turned his head just slightly, took a swig from the bottle.  The man a few tables away continued talking.  Aaron thought he must have been new here; none of the old timers ever spoke so loudly about their scores. 

The woman sitting across from him hummed noncommittally.  The man continued.  “S'posed to be really good, some high end shit.  And I know a guy who's got the hookup.”

The woman was silent.  Aaron pressed his lips to the bottle again and pretended to examine the grimy wallpaper behind the bar.  When a soft voice began speaking, Aaron tipped the bottle down, directed his ear back toward their table. 

“So?” she asked.  Her voice was a slow drawl, with every indication of unhappiness.  “Can't imagine you'd be willing to share.”

The man shrugged and straightened in his seat.  Aaron's hand tightened around the bottle and then relaxed again.  It was a long shot, Aaron knew, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the guy with the hookup was Kyle.  Guns had always been his specialty, his preferred object of trafficking.  And this was certainly Kyle's neck of the woods, and the guy, well.  Aaron snorted.  The guy at the table seemed like Kyle's type too.

"I might be willing...for a price."  The guy leaned forward, one of his eyebrows rising. 

The girl gave him a flat stare for a solid five seconds.  Then she rolled her eyes and stood up, taking her beer and walking to an empty table. “Bye, Petey.”

Aaron grinned into his whiskey, his spirits suddenly lifted.  He watched the guy—Petey—down the rest of his drink and leave the bar.  Aaron waited just long enough to remain inconspicuous before he followed.  He looked back once before leaving the bar, but Dan was still closeted away and the bar was suddenly so dank and depressing that for a fleeting moment Aaron wondered how he had missed this life...if his life should have been different.

And then he left and the door closed and he was following a stranger down the street and into the city.

They walked into the warm night, into the heart of the city.  The farther they walked, the more unimpressed Aaron became.  Petey was certainly an amateur.  Aaron followed him all the way back to a shitty apartment complex without ever needing to ensconce himself.  He waited until Petey had disappeared, gave it another ten minutes, and then settled into an alley across the street to wait.

It had been a long time since he'd done this, was the only thing Aaron could think.  Too long, really.  Nothing could hold the same draw as this; the silent anticipation, the growing tension.  He knew criminals who hated this part, who couldn't stand the pressure nor the slow buildup, the unfolding of events to come.  But Aaron, God did he love it.  The quiet contemplation was half the fun, really.  So, he waited.  He lost track of how long he sat in the alley, watching the building across the street.  Maybe an hour, maybe two. 

All Aaron knew was that darkness fell slowly, the way it always did in the summer, and then he was feeling the cool summer breeze curl against him, leaning more heavily against the brick wall at his back.

He didn't know how long he waited, but he was a patient man with nothing to lose, so when Petey suddenly emerged from his complex and started down the street, Aaron straightened up.  He gave Petey a moment to reach a safe distance and then Aaron crossed the street and followed him.  It was easy as it had been before.  Petey didn't glance back once and Aaron found himself annoyed with him, with thieves these days; they couldn't do anything properly, they all played fast and loose with their lives and their jobs. 

Aaron was secretive, kept everything close to the chest, and if someone were following him, he would know within minutes.  He was smart, after all, and he knew that you couldn't get anywhere in this business—in this life—if you couldn't learn to safeguard the things that were important.  This Petey kid obviously hadn't figured that out yet.  Aaron thought that he probably wouldn't live long enough to learn his lesson.

Eventually Petey began leading Aaron down toward the water, and Aaron had to concentrate hard to keep himself from becoming jittery.  He was getting excited, could feel his heart beginning to beat faster.  He wondered if Kyle were close by; if his body could somehow sense his presence.  At one point in time Aaron would have said that he could detect Kyle's every move...they had been that close.  Now, though, Aaron was setting out to murder him.  This was what the business did to people; first to Kyle and now to him, and Aaron knew it was fucked up, knew it in his gut, in his mind, but he was different than the kid he had been when he first met Kyle, and knowing something was wrong didn't have the same effect on him now as it had then.

When Petey got within hailing distance of the wharf, Aaron hung back.  He knew at once that something was wrong.  Either someone had got the drop on Petey or Kyle had been lying to him all along...there was no one at the dock, not a damned soul.  Aaron cursed his luck, looked bitterly around himself, wondering what the fuck he should do now.  It was then that he heard the shout from down below.

Aaron slid up against the building, keeping to the shadows, and made his way down toward the docks.  Despite the fact that he hadn't had it in years, his hand still fell to the back of his pants, groping for his gun.  He cursed under his breath, was on the point of reaching down for the knife in his shoe before he realized that he didn't have that either.  No gun, no knife, Christ, he didn't even have a fucking rock to use as a weapon.

He didn't hear any other noises as he reached the end of the block.  He glanced up and down the street, but there was no one.  A few of the streetlights down here were out, and Aaron could hear the splash of water against the shore.  He had no idea where Petey had got to, and the marina with its massive stacked crates was an excellent place for hiding.  The large fence surrounding the wharf had been padlocked shut, but the padlock was cut and broken, the chain previously holding the gate closed on the ground.  Aaron slipped onto the dock, glancing around for the bolt-cutters but whoever had opened the gate seemed to have taken them.  He sidled up behind a large stack of crates and stopped, listening.

He knew he had heard someone yell earlier, but now...nothing.  He chanced a glance around the corner of his crate hideout.  No one.  He crept toward the heart of the crates, toward the water, where all the action would have gone down if he had been here in time.  He had just stepped away from the mound of crates, ready to run the short distance to the next stack when he sensed something behind him.

Aaron turned on the spot, one hand going again to the back of his belt and the empty space there.  He was looking down the barrel of the gun, and Petey.

“Well, well,” Petey said.  The gun clicked as he thumbed off the safety.  “Prison sure has made someone soft, huh?”

Aaron wasn't positive, but he was beginning to think that maybe he had judged Petey too soon.

“Depends on what you mean by soft, I suppose,” Aaron said.  He grinned; his fallback method to dealing with any situation. 

“I know who you're looking for,” Petey said, shifting his feet.  His gun hand was wavering a little.  God but this guy was green; probably never pointed a gun at anyone in his life.

“That so?” Aaron said.  He tried to casually shift out of range of the gun, not because he had reason to fear Petey's aim, but because the guy looked nervous and trigger-happy.  Petey kept the gun trained on Aaron though, also adding “Don't move!”  Aaron desisted.

“Why don't you put the gun down,” Aaron suggested.  “I don't have a weapon.”

“I've heard about you,” Petey said, quickly, as though he said the words before he could think twice about it.  “People gossip.”

“And cons gossip more than most,” Aaron said.  “But we're all liars.”

Petey went on as though Aaron hadn't spoken.  “They said you were getting out of prison soon.  They said that it was Kyle who put you in.”

Aaron tamped down on his surprise the moment he felt it, keeping his face neutral.  He studied Petey's face, thinking, before he finally said, “That's right.”

“I was thinking you'd be wanting revenge.”

Aaron hesitated.  “Were you, now?”

“I know where to find him.”

This time, Aaron was certain he hadn't managed to hide his surprise all that well.  He wasn't sure what to expect when he followed Petey tonight, but it certainly hadn't been this.

“That so?” he asked again.

Petey let the silence stretch out before he nodded, hand still wavering on the gun.

“Well kid, how about you and I chat for a while?”

#

Petey was surprisingly knowledgeable about all things Kyle.  Aaron could only guess that Petey had been following Kyle for a while now, and that fact made him slightly more confident in the kid’s skills, for Aaron didn’t know of anyone who had ever been able to get the drop on Kyle, yet Petey had.

Petey said that Kyle had a place in the next state over, some dumpy little apartment in the middle of the city.  It fit Kyle’s M.O. to a T, followed all the rules that Aaron had taught Kyle over the years. 

“You think the safest place is one with a small population.  Wrong.  Everyone takes notice of you there, everyone recognizes you,” Aaron had told Kyle, years and years ago.  “You find a big city and you fall in with everyone else, go with the flow, and stick with the crowd.  No one’ll give two shits about you there.”

So he and Petey set out.  Petey had a car and a lot of pent-up energy so waiting around was not in the cards.  Besides, Aaron only had one goal since he got out, and that was to kill the son-of-a-bitch who had locked him up, so he didn’t have much to wait for either.

Aaron had already figured out that Petey was something of a talker, but being in an enclosed space with him only seemed to heighten the impulse.  He didn’t stop talking once the first hour on the road, though luckily Aaron didn’t have to say a word to keep him going.  Petey seemed perfectly content with his silence.  At least for a little while.

As hour two dawned and they passed over the state border, Petey’s mouth faltered, his eyes shifted toward Aaron every few minutes.  The sun was begging to set as he said, “So….”

Aaron remained silent, hoping he’d take a hint.  He didn’t.

"So...how did you meet Kyle?" was the first thing he asked.  Aaron grimaced, not hiding his reaction, hoping Petey would just shut up.

"On the street, after he turned eighteen."

"Wow," Petey said.  "Wow.  You've known him for, what?  Seven, eight years?"

Aaron grunted.  "Ten."

Petey let out a low whistle.  Aaron clenched the folds of his jeans to keep himself from punching him in the face.

"So what was he doing on the street?"

"Peddling his ass," Aaron said.  Not technically, not then, but that had been the road he was heading down, and the look on Petey's face was well worth the lie.

"And you, what?  Took him in, cleaned him up?  Put him on the fast-track for success?"

Aaron didn't answer because he wasn't getting into his entire sordid history with Kyle.  It was long and hard and just thinking about it gave Aaron a bad taste in his mouth.  Everything had been so different back then, back when they'd first met.  And some part of Aaron still wished they could go back to that, to when Kyle was savvy and cocky and young and Aaron knew all that there was to know about people and the business.

It hadn't taken long for everything to change, for Kyle to become too savvy, too cocky.  He had learned all that Aaron had to teach him and then some because he had been thirsty for knowledge and success.  That, in the long run, was his downfall.  Kyle never knew how to be content with what he had, was always looking around the next corner for what was coming, for the next opportunity.  He became accustomed to reaching too high and then learning to compensate.  He was a smart little fuck.

Aaron stayed quiet, looked out the window.  Petey didn't need to know any of this, didn't deserve to know it.

Petey, apparently, thought otherwise.  “You know, we still have an hour and a half to go,” he said.  “And I don't have anything else to talk about or anyone else to talk to.  So you might as well just answer me.”

Aaron didn't want to admit defeat, but Petey was certainly convincing, and annoying and after so much prodding and awkward silences Aaron just ran him through the whole fiasco.

"He was already conning back then, just little stuff, you know, but he was good and smart, so I let him stay with me."  Aaron glanced out the window as they drove up the freeway, remembering. 

He had met Kyle on the street, or had seen him first on the street.  Aaron had been around long enough at that point to notice people, notice the smallest irregularity.  He had been sitting on a bench on the outskirts of Seattle when Kyle had walked by.  He had caught Aaron’s eye at first because he was a good-looking kid, with wide eyes and blonde hair and the most arrogant set to his lips Aaron had ever seen.

He was also doing something he really shouldn’t have been doing.  He didn’t look suspicious at all really, in fact that was the problem.  He was trying too hard to blend in, to be a part of the crowd.  The new kids always did that, always tried too hard, gave themselves away so soon.

He had stood up and followed because he had nothing else to do and he was curious to see what the kid was up to.  He watched as Kyle entered a department store and began walking through the vast makeup counters on the ground floor.  Aaron paused and pretended to look at colognes, his eyes focused on Kyle.  He watched him look around, sizing up the ladies.  Aaron was certain that he was going to pick the pocket of an older woman bending to look in a display case, but Kyle only paused for a moment before moving on.

Aaron moved away from the colognes, keeping his distance as Kyle edged toward the shoe department instead.  Aaron was beginning to suspect that the kid didn’t have the balls to follow through with anything, but he was still intrigued.

There had been a woman trying on shoes, the snotty type who looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth.  Aaron had noticed her at once, and so had Kyle.  The woman was making a bit of a scene, giving the salesman helping her a run for his money as she went on about the price of a pair of pumps that she thought were poorly made.

“A frugal bitch,” Aaron muttered to himself, watching as the salesman finally managed to escape, promising to bring the woman another pair of shoes that were more affordable.

Aaron had an idea, as he watched Kyle watch the woman, that he knew what would happen next.  It was clear that the woman was wealthy, could probably afford three pairs of those pumps just with the cash she had on her.  She was just the type who liked being mean for the sake of it.  So when Kyle began sliding closer to her, Aaron knew that the kid was thinking the same thing.

He also knew that stealing her wallet would not be possible.  Her purse was closed, tucked next to her chair, her wallet undoubtedly secured inside.  Aaron suddenly thought the next few minutes were going to be very interesting. 

He watched as the salesman returned, holding another box of shoes that he showed the woman.  She gave a little twitch of her shoulders as if to say, if you must, and the salesman carefully fitted the shoes onto her feet.  She stood and tottered to the mirror, her pencil skirt restricting her movements.

Kyle stepped forward, toward the place that the woman had been sitting and her black purse, and Aaron had a sudden urge to warn him because that wasn’t smooth at all, she would surely see him if he moved now.  Aaron had even taken a step forward when Kyle walked right past the woman’s chair and purse and toward a table displaying a variety of other heeled shoes.  In his haste, one of the woman’s previously discarded shoeboxes was knocked askew, into the walkway between chairs. 

Aaron stepped back, content to watch things unfold.

The woman had reached the mirror and was admiring the shoes.  There were a few other shoppers in the shoe department, but not enough to make the salesman busy.  He stayed at the woman’s side, watching her look carefully at her feet.

She didn’t say anything as she turned and headed back for her chair.  Kyle turned, broke cover by watching her, moving forward as one of her heels hit the shoebox.  Unable to regain her balance due to her tight skirt, the woman fell with a screech.

Immediately Kyle was beside her.  H bent in front of her and pushed her purse behind him to make a space for himself.  The salesman had fallen to his knees as well, and between the two of them it was clear they overwhelmed her.

“Are you all right?” the salesman asked.

At the same time Kyle said, “Are you OK?”

Aaron watched as one of Kyle hands snuck behind him and slid open the zipper to the purse.  The woman began to lift herself up, spitting hair out of her mouth, cursing.  Kyle’s hand dipped inside the black leather and a moment later, he pulled out a large pink wallet. 

The woman gripped the front of the salesman’s shirt as he helped her to her feet.  She was complaining about the shoes and the store and the salesman and even the kid.  Kyle tucked her wallet down the back of his pants, adjusting his shirt over it as he stood up.  The woman was still on a tirade.  Kyle walked away, looking apologetic, easing quickly past Aaron, who remembered feeling reluctantly impressed.

Kyle left the store without a backward glance, and by the time Aaron had got his wits about him and followed him onto the street, Kyle had disappeared.

Aaron went back to that bench the next day, but he never saw Kyle.  He went back the next day, and the next.  Two weeks later Kyle finally appeared again, hustling card tricks on the sidewalk of that same street, and Aaron felt something like apprehension seeing him again.  Kyle had a small audience around him and one guy with a wide smile and a wider belly was steadily betting away all of his money. 

Aaron sidled closer and as the guy finally left, looking only slightly put-out, Aaron checked his sleeve and stepped forward.

“I want to play,” he said.

Kyle looked up, already smiling, full lips pulling tight against white teeth.  Aaron felt a little clench in his stomach, excited to get a chance to try this again, to see this kid work.  It was an odd feeling. 

Aaron put down fifty, Kyle matched him, showing him the cards.  “Just find the Queen, that’s all you need to do.  Find her and the money’s yours.  Don’t take your eyes off her, she’s a quick bitch.”

He let the cards fly.  The kid was good, no way around that, fingers quick.  He had the Queen and a Joker in one hand and Aaron almost missed the switch-off, just barely caught the moment when the kid threw down the top card instead of the bottom, the very trick of this game designed to throw him off course.  He managed to follow the Queen, but when Kyle stopped shuffling them around, Aaron picked the far left card, the one he was supposed to pick.

“Bad luck, bad luck,” Kyle said as he flipped it over to reveal a Joker.

“Again,” Aaron said as Kyle began scooping up the money.  “Two-hundred.”

Kyle looked up, eyebrows rising.  “All right,” he said at once, throwing his money down, arranging the cards.  “You got it.  Find the Queen.”

And around they went again.  Aaron watched carefully, saw a new trick this time, saw Kyle—in the space of a moment—slide a new card under the Queen, scooping her up and cupping her perfectly in his palm, disappearing from sight.  It was executed so masterfully, so quick that Aaron knew he never would have caught it if he hadn’t been looking for it.  But he already realized that Kyle was a smart kid; he had sensed something about Aaron, something untrustworthy, and he was going to make sure there was no Queen in the deck, make sure that Aaron wouldn’t get the drop on him, somehow.

He had instincts.  Again, Aaron found himself impressed. 

Finally, Kyle stopped shuffling, and Aaron pointed to the card in the middle.  Before he could flip it, Kyle held the card down, his face betraying nervousness.  But, in the space of time it took for their eyes to meet, Aaron sensed Kyle’s excitement.  He thought he was going to score big. 

“You sure?” Kyle asked.

Aaron grinned, covered the card with his hand and flipped it, performing his own trick.  He showed Kyle the Queen in his hand, the card he had had up his sleeve. 

Kyle’s grin faded in a heartbeat, his eyes bulging.  His hand twitched as though he wanted to check the identity of the card in his hand but stopped himself at the last moment. 

Aaron took the money and hauled ass out of there before Kyle or his cronies could get their wits.  He ducked into the crowd and let it sweep him away, finally darting into an alley a few blocks away to count his money.

He had barely pulled it out of his pocket when someone said, “Hey!  Give me my fucking money!”

Aaron turned, hand clenching around the bundle of cash, which was smart since one of Kyle’s hands immediately went to pry his fingers open.

“Give it to me, asshole!” he said.  “You cheated!”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, grabbed Kyle’s other hand and turned it over, where the Queen was still cupped against his palm.  Kyle yanked his hand away, dropped his other hand from Aaron’s fist.

“You were saying?”

Kyle was quiet for a moment.  Then, “It was my game!  Obviously that’s a con!” he burst out. 

“Then I guess I taught you a good lesson, didn’t I?”

Kyle crossed his arms, looking highly skeptical.  “Oh really?  And what’s that?”

“No matter how good you are, someone better can always beat you at your own game.”

“Oh wow,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes.  “Insightful, really.  Thanks for that.  Now give me my fucking money.”

“No,” Aaron said.  His eyes traced over Kyle’s face, slight body, and the long, slim fingers.  He had an idea stirring in his mind, knew it was crazy, but he voiced it anyway.  “But I’ll give you something better.  Come live with me.”

Kyle reared back, lip curling.  “What do you think I am, some fag?  I’m not going to live you, pervert.”

“I’ll teach you everything I know, every trick in the book.  You’re good, kid, but you’re also an idiot.  I can fix that.”

Kyle opened his mouth, ready to say something else, but then he hesitated, eyes falling to the money in Aaron’s hand.   “How’d you do that?” he asked

“Same way you did,” Aaron said, flipping his other hand over to show Kyle his own card.  “Only in reverse.”

Kyle’s lips twitched, almost a smile.  He was weighing his options; Aaron could almost hear the cogs in his brain working.

“So?” Aaron eventually pressed.  “What do you say?”

Kyle cleared his throat, his fingers smoothing the outer seam to his jeans.  Already Aaron felt the need to tell him off, to warn him against his tells.  He held the urge back with some difficulty, reminding himself that Kyle hadn’t agreed yet.

But he could see that he was going to.  Kyle looked up, eyes bright, and nodded.  “Yeah, OK.”

Even now, Aaron could remember how he felt looking at that face.  He had been excited for the challenge Kyle presented, the opportunity to teach someone everything, shape them into the perfect conman.  Yet even then, even looking at those big blue eyes and ski jump nose he felt something like unease tighten the muscles in his neck, just a small twinge.  Even back then, his instincts had been spot on. 

Petey’s voice brought him back to the car and the present.  Aaron blinked, shook his head.  “What?”

“I asked why you let him stay with you.”  Petey said. 

“He was living on the street.  He wasn't going to say no to a place with a couch and a shower so he came with me back to my place.  Doubt he slept for the first few months he stayed there, though; always thought I was going to kill him in his sleep, I think.  Take out the competition.”

“You never thought about it?” Petey asked.

Aaron shook his head.  “Not then; he was just a kid, and he was smart but he still didn't know what the fuck he was doing—he wasn't a threat to anyone but petty thieves anyway.

“We travelled around for a while, just getting by.  I was teaching him the ropes, introducing him to people in the business.  We were together for a long time.”

“Like...together?  Did you...did you love him?”

Aaron already had half his mind in the past, so that one sentence had his mind reeling, images of wet skin and hard bone and hands, hands everywhere.  He immediately thought of his and Kyle’s first time together, in the shower against the wall, hot water, hard cocks, red lips and that one teasing line, “I thought you weren’t a fag?” and Kyle’s answering moan as Aaron fucked him hard from behind.

Aaron cleared his throat, those images swirling down the drain in his mind, replaced by thoughts of Kyle’s face in the interview room and Aaron feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach as those hot lips, the ones that had sucked his cock and moaned his name and told him jokes and lies and bitchy little comebacks, had sold him out.  “No, I didn't love him, Christ.  Who the fuck have you been talking to?  It doesn't work like that.”

Petey grunted, kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.  “Right.”

“What the hell are you asking all this for anyway?” Aaron asked.  “What did Kyle even do to you to want him dead so bad?”

Petey was quiet for so long that Aaron glanced over to him, about to repeat himself.  Then Petey opened his mouth.  “Nothing.”

Aaron waited for more.  When, after a minute, Petey didn't say anything else, Aaron sat up straighter in his seat.  “Nothing?  What do you mean 'nothing'?”

“I mean, he didn't do anything to me,” Petey said, glancing over his shoulder as he switched lanes.

“Then why the fuck are you on a manhunt?”

Petey sighed, rolled his eyes.  The foot not on the gas medal began jiggling up and down.  Aaron was struck again by his youth, his naivete.  “Look, cons gossip, right?  Well, for the past few years they've mostly been gossiping about you.  Everyone knows that Kyle is the best, everyone also knows that you taught Kyle most everything he knows.  So.  You know.  That's why.”

Aaron laughed before he could help himself, too startled and amused to hold it in, really though, but this was just fucking ridiculous.  “What—” he began, “what, you want me to be your mentor or something?”

“Listen.  I know all of your cons, all of your schemes.  I've heard about the things that you've done, the forgeries and the thefts and you know all the people, all the big names.”

Aaron shook his head, but Petey didn't stop talking.

“I heard about Wisconsin, the bank; you and Kyle in and out in twenty minutes during business hours.  Christ, no one even saw you, didn't even know they had been robbed until that night when they closed.”

“That was—” Aaron started, but Petey steamrollered right over him.

“I heard about that Kahlo painting you forged and sold off.  It took three art appraisers to say definitively that it was fake.  I mean, that's talent, that's—that's impressive, you know.”

Aaron waved that away, rolled his eyes.  “Then you're too easily impressed.  All you have to do is master brush strokes and get a good convection oven for accurate aging.  And the thing in Wisconsin—well, that was all Kyle.  If you're looking for lessons, you might want to turn around now because I intend to kill the one guy who could really teach you.”

“That's not what I heard,” Petey said, so quietly that Aaron wasn't sure if he was intended to hear it.

“Really?  And tell me, smartass, what it is that you've heard?”

Petey flexed his jaw, drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.  “I heard that Kyle was getting in over his head.”

“What do you mean, with what?”

“With everything,” Petey said, shrugging.  “Everyone says that he's reckless, that he's one score away from being thrown in prison.”

“And you'd rather be taught by me?” Aaron asked, an incredulous snort escaping him.  “I've been to prison, I did get caught.”

“Yeah, because your partner turned you in.”

“Oh, what, and you don't think I'd do the same to you?”

Petey looked as if he had a ready response, opened his mouth at once to reply.  Then he snapped his teeth together with a click and looked out the window.  He shrugged. 

The rest of the ride passed in silence.  Aaron could practically feel the tension coming off of Petey, the hurt.  Aaron thought that he'd done the kid a favor, really; he needed tougher skin.