Resolution
As Grayson drove down the rain soaked streets, he silently prayed that this night, the last night of the year, wouldn’t be the last night of his life. He wasn’t too worried that it would be, but sometimes, as his grandmother used to say, a little prayer never hurt. He thought through what he had to do to finish the night and start the new year off on the right foot. Not so much the right foot but a new beginning. Although he didn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions (people seldom kept them), he decided he needed to make one. He realized he couldn’t keep living life the way he had been. Grayson, ever since he was 17 and first busted on a small time robbery charge, had grown accustomed to a life of crime. But just because you’re accustomed to it, doesn’t make it right. Grayson knew he wasn’t right so he thought this would be the last time for this line of work. The last job, just like in the movies. And then he would be free.
Anxious though he was to get it over with, he drove slowly down the streets of the south side. He didn’t want any unnecessary attention. Besides, he needed the time to think through the details of the job. There was a little small cleaners on The Hill. Its owner was Alfonso Romano, a mob boss who controlled The Hill and even some of the area just immediately outside of it. That’s until Eddie, Grayson’s boss, decided he wanted a bigger slice of the south side. What followed was a back and forth bloody turf war between the two sides that was so grisly it captured the news headlines at least three times a week. Sensing that the violence in and of itself wasn’t enough to get the public’s attention, the media salivated and jumped at the racial component of the story. Black vs. white. The Italians (Eddie pronounced it, rather pejoratively, as I--talians) saw it as defending their territory from hostile outsiders. Everyone on The Hill worked for Romano or came under his protection, which when it came down to it, was the same thing.
This cleaners that Romano owned was pretty legitimate considering who its owner was. Romano never did any business there other than have his suits pressed or have a new button sowed on. No drugs were sold there, no prostitutes solicited their line there. Everyone knew it just as a cleaners that served the community. An innocous business. Except what only a few people knew was there was a safe inside the cleaners, in the back, stocked full of cash, bonds, and other assorted valuables. How Eddie knew about it, Grayson wasn’t too sure, and he didn’t care. Eddie wanted the contents of the safe. The fact that he did seemed farcical to Grayson. He didn’t think there could be that much in that safe and to steal it was almost to commit petty larceny. But he didn’t dwell on it too much. He just wanted to do the job and walk away.
That was his quote unquote new year’s resolution. Walk away. Try and start over as much as he could. He wasn’t sure how he would do it. Grayson just finally found the courage one evening to tell Eddie he was finished. The work had taken its toll on him. And on Monica.
Grayons had been with a few women in his lifetime, especially once he started hustling. But Monica was the only one who managed to get him to sit still long enough to fall in love. So much so that they even had a daughter, Karen. Grayson loved both Monica and their daughter, but at that time, he didn’t understand the idea of settling down. Work a regular job? Do yard work and DIY projects around the house on the weekends? He wasnt’ ready for it at that time so he kept living his life the way he had grown accustomed to. He still had his doubts creep in from time to time as he thought through his decision to quit this life, but he kept replaying Monica’s tears in his head over and over again and that image immediately removed those doubts.
It was a typical evening for Grayson. Out doing his thing with the boys, whatever that was. He couldn’t remember what it was in particular they were up to that night, only that it lasted well into the morning. He arrived at the apartment he and Monica shared to find her sitting in the living room on the couch. Karen lay fast asleep in her crib over in the corner of the room.
At first Grayson went over to Monica, full of liquor, horny, but she kept pushed him away, demanding to know his whereabouts and why he was so late. Grayson came up with some lame excuses, but Monica didn’t buy them. She told Grayson that she was tired. Stupidly, he suggested that she go to sleep. She then slapped him across the face surprising both of them. Monica began to weep. The two went back and forth trying not to wake the baby, but their voices rose higher and higher to outdo the other one. Frustrated, Grayson gave up on his argument with Monica and went to wake his baby girl up. He figured he needed someone in the house to love him and be on his side. Even that didn’t work for Karen cried the moment he grabbed her out of the crib.
Monica came over and snatched their daughter from Grayon’s hands and cuddled her close. She went and opened the door and demanded that he leave. He couldn’t think. He could barely speak. He tried to plead one last time, but Monica refused to listen. She pushed him and pushed him, and before he realized it, she had pushed him outside the door. Grayson wanted to get in one last word, but the door was shut in his face and he stood there, stunned, in the hallway. He kicked, yelled, cursed, and screamed, howled like a banshee before he realized a neighbor might be listening and would soon call the police. That’s definitely not what he needed or wanted so he left.
It took a few days, several unaswered texts, and unreturned phone calls, but Grayson, very much sober, finally managed to reach Monica on the phone. He tried to apologize, but it still fell on deaf ears. He never knew what Monica saw in him, but whatever it was she once saw, she could see it no longer. She told him until he straightened out his life and got his shit together, he wasn’t allowed to be around her or their daughter. And just like that, she hung up the phone.
Grayson had his ultimatum and he made his decision although it took a few more weeks before he let Eddie know about it. He had to work up the nerve. Towering several inches above six feet, Eddie was a fierce, unsmiling man who ran everything with an ironhand. His head was round yet oddly even on all sides, and he kept it completely shaved. Around his neck was a gold chain that covered a slight scar, courtesy of a bullet he received once he started running the streets.
Surprisingly, Eddie offered Grayson an opportunity to walk away. He didn’t ask why Grayson wanted to leave although Grayson offered some, but not all, the reasons he was quitting. Eddie just told him to do this job and afterwards, he’d been free to do whatever he pleased. Grayson couldn’t believe it, and wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he took it. Eddie told him he’d send someone with him to make sure that the job went down without any hiccups.
That someone Eddie sent along with Grayson was a man named Spade. Grayson knew of Spade, but he knew very little of him. Not many people knew anything about Spade. There was a circulation of rumors about where he came from: some said military, some said Chicago, and even more imaginately, some said he was launched from Tehran. Either way, Grayson didn't like him. He couldn't figure Spade out. The man never said anything, and to Grayson, that was a scary thing. He was always taught it's the quiet ones you have to watch. That's what Grayson did as he drove along the streets. He kept his eyes on swivel between the road and Spade in his passenger seat.
Spade kept a pistol in his lap. Grayson tried to read him, but the man's almond shaped eyes betrayed nothing. Grayson, who stood at only 5'10", figured Spade was maybe a notch above six feet. He had an athletic build, and his hair was cut with such precision that it was possible to make a military connection. Grayson tried to make some form of small talk as they rode through the city.
"I don't know if it's ever rained like this on New Year's Eve," Grayson said.
Spade shrugged.
"We'll be there in about another five minutes or so. One thing I don't think we'll have to worry about is running into anyone. Inside or out on the streets. This should be easy."
Grayson didn't feel that it would be easy, but he said it only to make himself feel better. He looked to Spade for affirmation, but to no avail. Spade simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. He fiddled around before finally rolling up a blunt.
"It's nice when people ask if they can smoke in your car," Grayson said.
"Yeah," Spade said. He lit it and took a hit, inhaling it deep in his chest.
"Why do you want to get out of the business?" Spade asked.
Grayson wasn't too surprised that Spade knew about his desire to quit, but he was still annoyed by the question just the same. The man's rudeness and intrusiveness was enough for Grayson to dislike him that much more.
"I want a change in my life, that's all."
That settled all questions and conversation. As promised, Grayson had them at the cleaners in short time. It was on the corner of Sublette, but Grayson parked on the other side of Daggett just down the block. He killed the engine and the men sat there for a minute. Grayson looked in his mirrors scanning the scene. The rain soaked streets were empty, as was to be expected in that type of weather. Grayson reached under his seat and retrieved his gun and a flashlight. When he looked up, Spade had his hand in his face. Spade offered him a hit off the blunt. Grayson looked at it and thought. He grabbed it and took a quick hit. As he did, an image of Monica rushed across his mind. He shook his head.
'This is the last time,' he thought to himself. He gave the marijuana back to Spade and the two men got out of the car.
Grayson popped the trunk so Spade could retrieve a duffel bag and the two men hid their firearms in their waistbands. They then sauntered down the block towards the cleaners, unhurried by the increasing intensity of the downpour. They arrived at the store and ducked around back. When they got to the back door, Spade pulled out a small pocket knife and in short order picked the lock. The men entered and gently shut the door behind them.
Turning on his flashlight, Grayson scanned the room. Racks of suits, dresses, coats, and other assorted clothing filled the back room. The dry cleaning machines lined up next to one another along the side wall. A low, continuous hum echoed from some distant corner in the room. And the room had a strong kerosene odor to it. Grayson and Spade made their way around the rack and around the room and came to a clothing rack, rusted out, with some old dusty coats sitting on top of it. They pushed it aside and right on the floor sat the safe.
Spade dropped his duffel bag on the floor by the safe and kneeled down in front of it. He examined the safe and grunted.
"Fire resistant. Not burgulary resistant. If I'd known, I would have brought just a hammer and crowbar and pried the damn thing open."
He opened the duffel bag, pulled out a thermal drill, and drilled directly into the face of the lock.
"Here. Shine your light here so I can see."
Grayson kneeled down and shined the light at the hole where Spade was drilling. Spade pulled out a punch rod, and after a couple of minutes of prodding and prying, he had the safe open. They looked inside to find only a few stacks and some assorted jewelry.
"Is this it?" Grayson asked. "I was sure there would be more."
Spade didn't say a word; he just grabbed the contents of the safe and started putting it in the bag. Grayson fought off an odd feeling he had in his stomach and just ran his fingers over his waistband where his gun was so that he could feel secure. He was sure there would've been more loot in the safe than what was present. It wouldn't be the legendary heist he pretended that it would be, that they'd a movie out of, but at the end of it, he didn't care. He just wanted to get out of there. Spade emptied the safe into his bag and zipped it up, leaving the thermal drill on the floor.
They headed towards the door they came in and the first that rang out surprised Grayson so that he wasn't sure what the noise was. He suspected fireworks. Then more shots were fired and he realized someone was in the cleaners shooting at them. Grayson fell to the floor and pulled out his gun. The flashlight fell and rolled away. He looked up to see Spade jerk violently before collapsing face first to the linoleum. Grayson fired his gun into the darkness.
He had been in gunfights before. It came with the job description. They had never bothered him before. Grayson always felt a rush. But there was no longer a rush. He didn't feel any adrenaline. His chest was pounding and he began to feel a bead of sweat down his back. He looked around in the dark. A feeling he had never felt before came over him. Grayson began to creep across the floor with his gun up just in case. He suspected there were at least two gun men. He figured that at least one was guarding the door and the other was coming to track him down. The door, his way out, was on the other side of the room.
As he ducked behind racks of clothes, he heard the weight of a footstep cause the floor to moan. He ducked out of his position and fired a couple of shots from his pistol in the direction of the noise. He heard what sounded like metal fall and scatter across the floor, and a body crumple to the floor behind it.
Grayson ducked back into a hiding space between men's suits before he continued to the direction of the door. He peered out from the rack and saw the door not too far ahead. He started towards it when a dark figure jumped in front of the door and fired at him. Grayson tried to duck back behind a rack of clothes, but his shoulder was hit and he went crashing to the floor. He dropped his gun, but ignored the pain, grabbed his weapon and ducked away from the spot where he fell. He crawled over to a small desk that held a sewing machine on top of it. He partially hid underneath it.
This was the first time he'd ever been shot and it burned something fierce. Tears filled the corners of his eyes. Not just from the pain, but from something he had been trying to avoid all night. No, something he had been trying to avoid for a long time now.
He was afraid. He was afraid that the new beginning that he sought would only be found at the end of his life. He was afraid his life would end this way. Afraid of the horrific things he had seen, and had done. Afraid of the resulting dreams that haunted him every night. Afraid of the police. Afraid of the mob. Most of all, afraid of losing Monica and his baby girl.
Grayson clutched the gun to his chest.
'I have to get out. Not dying tonight.'
He sat there and eased his breathing. He thought the other gunman would be there soon enough to finish the job so he got up and scampered back towards the safe where Spade's body lay.
'Some help he was,' Grayson thought.
He started to go for the duffel bag, but instead he retrieved his flashlight. It had turned off when it hit the floor, so he had the idea to check and see if the light worked. He flashed it on quickly, casting a beam on the ceiling just above his head. Then, just as quickly he turned it off. He moved around to hide behind some more clothes and repeated the action. Turned the flashlight on, then turned it off. Even quicker than before, he changed his hiding place. He turned the flashlight on, waved it around casting the light around, and then set it down on the floor. He ducked out of side behind some ladies' dresses.
Grayson waited as the gunman came to the flashlight.
"Hey!" Grayson yelled at him.
Before the gunman could fully turn around and face him, Grayson had fired a couple of shots right above the man's ear. He crashed to the floor instantly. Grayson raced over and grabbed his flashlight. He was sure there were only two, but he threw the light around the room just to be sure. He went to where Spade's body was and grabbed the duffel bag. He didn't check to see if the man was alive. He didn't care. He hurried out the door.
The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle. Grayson raced down the street to his car. He popped the trunk, threw the duffel bag in, shut the trunk, and got into his car. But then he sat there for a moment. He wanted to figure things out. What to do. He thought about taking the money to Eddie and putting six in him for having him risk his life for such a paltry sum.
Then, he thought no. Grayson turned on his ignition and headed to the highway.
'I'm done with Eddie, and the rest of them.'
He figured he'd head south, maybe towards Memphis. He had a few connections down that way that could help him out. Take a few weeks and get on his feet. He'd build something solid down there. The stacks he had in his trunk would hold him for a little while. He could set up something and call Monica and have her and the baby move down there with him. They might even start a real family. A new beginning.
'One thing is for sure,' he thought as he hopped onto 44, 'I have to get out of this damn city.'
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