Blood Ties - A Magnolia Novel Page 15

  Was the cold-hearted devil even going to attend? Lucas took a sip of coffee as he walked over to the cabinet. He grabbed two aspirin and chewed them up, followed by another long swig of coffee. Who was he kidding? Of course the old geezer would attend the funeral of his nephew. But, would the old mobster even notice if Lucas wasn’t there? Again, who was he kidding? The man didn’t miss a thing, and Lucas had the strange sensation the old schooler would be offended if one of his associates, (as he enjoyed calling Lucas on occasion) didn’t pay his respects.

  Decision made, Lucas swiped his fingers through his damp hair. He hadn’t even left yet and was already sweating bullets. If he was going to do this, he would have to settle his nerves down. The thought of being inside a church, plus near his boss, made his stomach flip. The two aspirin burned in his gut as they competed for attention with the strong coffee. Lucas set his mug on the counter and headed to the bedroom to find his stash. A few seconds later, the sweet smell of weed hung in the stagnant air. It took two full bowls to stop his hands from shaking and his sweat glands to ease up. Satisfied he could maintain during the service, Lucas took a quick shower to wash away the skunk smell.

  As the hot jet spray beat down on him, Lucas wished he was still in jail. At least it would be a legitimate excuse for missing the funeral. He laughed out loud inside the empty bathroom at the realization that in a sick, perverted way, he was imprisoned. And Lucas would never, ever be paroled until the old warden was dead.

  Or he was.

  Thirty minutes later, Lucas rolled up on his Harley. He parked across the street from the gaudy, over-the-top concrete monstrosity known as St. Michael’s, and shut the rumbling engine off. He kept his sunglasses on, using them as a shield so he could scan the area without looking like he was a nervous cat walking through a kennel full of rabid dogs. A few people walked up the stairs and went inside, most of them so old, they would break in half if they fell down. The knot in his stomach tightened when he saw the devil’s henchman, Carmine, stroll up the stairs, wearing a suit that screamed Mafia. From the gaudy material, the slick-backed hair, the black shades and matching leather shoes, it was almost comical. The most ironic part, at least to Lucas, was he figured people would walk by the bastard and think “Wow, he could play a mobster for sure!” not even considering he actually was one. After all, the era of the Mafia was over.

  Yeah, right.

  Lucas slowed his gait down, waiting for the arrival of his boss/nemesis. A few more people trickled in and went inside the massive doors, but not the one he was looking for. His stomach tightened. Was Caesar already inside? He hoped not, because Lucas had no intention of making a lap around the casket, just so he’d been seen paying his respects.

  He realized the weed was wearing off faster than he’d anticipated. As Lucas opened the doors and stepped inside, the hairs on his neck bristled. The music made his skin crawl. Organ music reminded him of every horror movie he’d ever watched. It always seemed to peak when some big-busted, nearly naked broad was about to get chopped up into little pieces by the crazed killer. Lucas licked his dry lips, slid off his shades, and slipped into the pew closest to the door.

  No one paid him any attention, which was fantastic. To his surprise, not many people came to say goodbye to Ray-Ray. Then again, how many friends could Ray-Ray have had left? Though they hadn’t spoken much during the last several years, Ray-Ray’s descent into addiction wiped away most of his former life, and friends. Lucas scanned the crowd one last time, wondering if Tiffany Birtress or her sister Tana had showed up. Though improper, Lucas smiled a bit at the memory of the sisters, and the night he lost his virginity to Tana, while Ray-Ray defiled Tiffany in another room. Tiffany was the one groupie who really had feelings for Ray-Ray. Lucas’s smile disappeared when he remembered the ugly shouting match after Tiffany caught him in mid-pump with Tana. He was wasting his time looking for either of them in the church. If anything, they might show up to the gravesite and spit on the dirt.

  Lucas let out a quiet sigh. He shouldn’t have thought about Tana. Best piece of ass he’d ever had, and like he did with everything else he touched, Ray-Ray ruined it. Plus, it didn’t help thinking about pussy again. It had been way too long since he’d had some, other than the whore Lucas picked up at a bar the second night he’d been released from jail. They both had been too trashed to really perform. He needed a nice, wet snatch to release some of his anger into.

  The hairs on the back of his neck popped up, the sensation of cold fear made his jaw tighten. Lucas didn’t need to look for the cause of his panic, for he knew exactly what it was. Keeping his eyes in his lap, he saw Caesar Calvanio walking down the aisle. Lucas stared a hole through his khakis, unwilling to raise his eyes to see if the old fucker saw him. He didn’t need to. His burning gut told him enough.

  Within minutes, the service started. Instead of listening to the drone of the dude up front in the long dress and fancy hat, Lucas concentrated on keeping his legs from bouncing. Not only was this his first funeral, but it was also the first time he’d ever been inside a church of any denomination. He almost expected to burst into flames when he walked in. When his mother died, cash was tight, so her final sendoff had been nothing but a simple service at the cemetery. So, he was surprised when he felt a lump of tears in his throat. They certainly weren’t from sadness over Ray-Ray’s passing. As Lucas swallowed hard and ground his teeth, he realized they stemmed from missing his mother, who he rarely thought about much anymore, and the loss of the person Lucas could have been.

  All the mental, emotional bullshit disappeared from his mind with one ear-splitting cry. Lucas’s mouth gaped open when he heard the devil wail from his spot next to Mrs. D’Nucci. The man either missed his calling as an A-list actor, giving the performance of a lifetime as a grieving relative of the dearly departed, or he was truly upset about Ray-Ray’s death. Never, in all the years Lucas had known the cold-hearted bastard, had he ever seen the man display any emotion other than anger. Normally, Caesar Calvanio was a man of few words, and when he did speak, the carefully chosen words cut like hot daggers into the flesh. It unnerved Lucas for some strange reason. Though unsure exactly why, all he knew for sure was the urge to leave overwhelmed him.

  Caesar’s head was down while Mrs. D’Nucci patted his back. Lucas scanned the crowd and noticed most of the mourners were watching the spectacle, so Lucas used the distraction to escape the church without being seen. It took less than ten strides from his spot on the pew until he was outside in the bright sun, away from the disturbing sounds from inside.

  The high from the weed long gone, Lucas picked up his pace. His nerves were on fire, and since he couldn’t risk lighting up in the middle of downtown Hot Springs, he decided to cool the flames inside him with a cold beer. The Regency was less than two blocks away. Though not one of his regular haunts, he didn’t care. Lucas needed a drink. Several, actually. He cut across Central Avenue, and as he entered the dimly-lit place, he felt a sense of relief. It was off-season, so the regulars to the track who normally swarmed downtown after the horse races were gone.

  “Sure is a hot one today, eh?” the scrawny bartender asked. “Whatcha drinkin’?”

  “Hotter than the flames of Hell, dude. Tequila, with a beer chaser.” In a flash, his drinks were in front of him. The tequila burned as it slid down his throat, but Lucas welcomed the distraction. He took a long pull from his beer, belched, and asked, “Menu?”

  “Here ya go. Kitchen is closed at the moment. Our cook is off today. I can fix anythin’ that don’t require heat, though. I make a mean sandwich.”

  Lucas scanned his options and then handed back the sticky menu. “Tuna on wheat please. Extra mayo. And hit me again.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Lucas enjoyed the meal, drinks, and the buzz. The bartender left him alone, busying himself with the other two customers. Lucas figured he caught his drift he wasn’t much up to chatting. The booze was running through him, so Lucas got up and made his way to the head. When he
reached the bathroom, he stumbled a bit on the slick floor. His stomach grumbled, and he realized he didn’t just need to take a piss. He made to the stall just in time.

  Minutes later, Lucas splashed cold water on his face and stared at his reflection. Christ, he looked like a walking corpse. He needed to lay off the booze and weed, maybe start working out again. Eat healthier.

  Yeah, like those things are the reason you look the way you do.

  He jerked the bathroom door open and started to walk down the hallway. He’d have one more drink. No tequila, just a nice, cold beer, and then head home. Maybe after a short nap, clean up and go to Little Rock. Hit the bar scene and find some strange. Lucas smiled at the thought, a woody only seconds away, but the second his grin and hard-on appeared, the sound his ears heard made him freeze in his tracks. Cocking his head, Lucas listened, hoping he was wrong.

  He wasn’t. The voices coming from the other side of the wall, less than ten feet from him, he’d recognize anywhere. The Devil and his trained goon, Carmine.

  Shit!

  Panic tore through him, making Lucas’s guts rumble, and his dick nothing more than a flaccid noodle. Did they follow him to the bar? Was he about to be ambushed, punished for being at the funeral? For leaving before the service was over? Maybe they planned on giving him a lesson in person for being gone for six months. It didn’t really matter what the reason was. Hell, knowing the two blood-thirsty monsters like he did, they didn’t need one. Blood pounded in his ears and sweat pooled under his armpits. Lucas touched his back pocket, relieved his wallet and keys were there, and not on the bar. The discovery made his racing heart slow a fraction.

  While holding his breath, he forced himself to calm down. If they had followed him, and planned on beating him to a bloody pulp, or worse, they missed the perfect opportunity when he was on the can. Footsteps approached, and then Lucas saw the bartender carrying a large tray of booze, heading, he assumed, for their table. Then, more steps, as the drunk he saw earlier sitting in the corner of the bar wobbled their way. Lucas bit his lip, and made his decision.

  He was getting the hell out of Dodge.

  With slow, quiet steps, he backed down the hallway. When he reached the exit door, Lucas bit down on his lip harder, because the damned thing was padlocked. He couldn’t believe it. Who in their right mind would put a lock to keep customers in? How many safety codes did that violate? Lucas almost laughed, because the only safety violation he was concerned about was his own.

  Not going to die today. No way.

  He veered to his right and slunk into the bathroom. There was a dirty window above the stalls. It would be a tight fit, but he could do it. Lucas had no choice. The thought of walking out the front door, risking being seen by either of them, made the bile travel up his throat. Once inside the stall, he shut the door and grabbed the ledge, hoisting his body up. He tugged at the latch, freed it, but the window wouldn’t budge. The building was old, and countless layers of paint sealed the window shut. Anger rising, he balanced his weight on his stomach, using both hands to work the window. No luck.

  Sweating profusely, Lucas slid back down and stood on the rim of the toilet. He took off his shirt, balled it around his fist, and started to hoist himself back up to the window. When he heard heavy footsteps from the hall, followed by the slurred voice of a male, Lucas stopped. His blood ran cold when Carmine barked, “Nicky, let me help you to the john. Looks like you’re gonna puke any minute.”

  On instinct, Lucas crouched down, his feet balancing on the edge of the slick, white rim. He held his breath, thankful he’d worn his new tennis shoes rather than his boots, or he would have already lost his footing. He tried not to jerk when the bathroom door opened. The sounds coming from the other side of the stall made goose bumps pop up all over his clammy skin.

  Like a quiet church mouse, Lucas never flinched, barely breathed, as he listened to the short conversation between the two men.

  “Please…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend Caesar, I just…oh…”

  “You are just drunk and acting like a pussy. A big, fat, slimy twat. You know, in all my years, I ain’t never seen such a huge pussy. Ever. And a stupid one, too. Did you really think you could just come over to our table and sit down for a chat? We aren’t friends, dumbass.”

  Lucas cringed at the harsh words of Carmine. His mouth was full of spit, but he refused to swallow it, fearing any noise would give his presence away. Lucas could hear the other guy sniveling and sniffing snot back up his nose, his words so slurred they didn’t make any sense. Footsteps approached, the shadow of feet appearing under the stall door. Lucas thought his heart would stop beating when he heard the slap of palms hitting the floor. He knew what was happening before the drunk spoke.

  “What…what are you doing, Carmine?”

  “I’m making sure we ain’t disturbed while we have ourselves a little chat. You know, so I can make sure you understand what rules you broke today, and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Lucky for you, it’s just the two of us. Now, let’s talk. Well, I’ll talk. You’ll just listen. Maybe saying some silent prayers that we’s in a public place. It’s all that’s saved me from ruining that chubby face of yours.”

  Lucas sat perched on the toilet like he was just an extension of the porcelain. For the first five minutes of the one-sided conversation, he kept expecting blood to spill all over the floor, so he really didn’t listen too much of what was said. But, when Ray-Ray’s name was mentioned, along with some other juicy details, Lucas’s ears perked up.

  “Now, I’m gonna call you a cab and pour you into it. You’re gonna go home, sleep this off, and get your shit together. No more screw ups, or drunk in public episodes. Wanna get trashed, do it at home. No more whining like a little baby. Maybe while you are home, you can search for your balls. You open that mouth of yours again like you did today around us, you won’t be only dead, but you and your family will be in so many pieces, it’d make a hundred-thousand piece crossword puzzle easier to put together. Got it?”

  “Yes, I got it. Please, please just leave my family out of it. Please,” the other man whined.

  Within seconds, the bathroom door opened and the men left. Lucas could hear Carmine on his cell, calling a cab. He wasted no time. With his shirt still balled up around his fist, Lucas hoisted himself back on the ledge, punched his hand through the window, and climbed out. The shards of sharp glass dug into his thighs and back, but he didn’t care. Dropping to the ground, he slipped his shirt back on while he trotted down the alley toward the front of the bar. Lucas stopped and waited, watching for the cab. The wait wasn’t long, and soon, he watched the drunken, frightened looking man climb in the backseat. Lucas gave a quick scan of the front, and seeing no one, took off running toward the parking lot where his bike was parked. He was breathing heavy when he jumped onto the hot leather seat, fired up the engine, and raced down Central. Taxicabs were a rarity in Hot Springs, so it only took a few seconds for him to spot the bright yellow car about half-a-mile ahead.

  Lucas hung back, following from a safe distance. Dueling emotions battled for control. One side told him to turn around, go home, and forget what he’d just seen and heard. The other part told him he just might be onto something. He didn’t know anything about the man he was following, other than his name was Nick, he was connected to Caesar and Carmine, and Ray-Ray. The more Lucas thought about it, the stronger the warm sensation in his stomach became. The sensation was something he hadn’t felt in years, and almost didn’t recognize. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever the man knew, however he was involved with the old mafia fucker, might be enough ammunition for Lucas to use to extract himself from under Caesar’s control. How he would accomplish it was something he’d deal with in the future. First, Lucas needed to find out all the information.

  As he followed, the orangey, red sun just beginning to start its descent over Lake Hamilton, Lucas wondered if he was on the road to salvation or the path to Hell.

  Only one
way to find out.

  Lucas watched from his perch on top of his idling hog. Even a block away, he could see the drunk stumble from the backseat of the taxi, wobbling as he tried to keep himself steady before he executed a classic face plant. If the guy had been some random Joe, he would have laughed at the sight. Even though Lucas didn’t know the dude, he knew enough.

  The guy had ties to the Devil, and other than Ray-Ray and the goonish henchman, Lucas had never met anyone who did.

  He was about to change that.

  A few rays of orange light from the disappearing sun blazed across the sky. It would be dark in less than an hour. Lucas waited until the man entered his house before engaging the gears. He swung the bike hard to the right, executing the perfect U-turn, careful not to speed. Drawing unwanted attention was not what he needed. The neighborhood the dude lived in was what his mother would have called “upscale” and Lucas figured not many of the rich neighbors drove hogs around.