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The back room is cluttered with neglected items, each one more bizarre than the last. There's a life-size statue of Elvis Presley next to an ancient arcade machine about alien invaders, and our entrance into the room is heralded by the warbling cries of a diamond-studded Billy Bass.
“The fuck is this?” I say.
“A place of dreams,” Havoc answers.
“You want something? Just check the tag. Everything has its price,” Horatio murmurs.
I guide him toward the painting. It’s a wall-sized portrait of David Bowie as Jareth the Goblin King. Horatio moves the painting aside to reveal a safe set into the wall. With one hand covering the dial, he twists and turns until it unlocks, then reaches inside. One by one, he removes a series of boxes and sets them upon his desk.
I stare.
“This is what we risked our fucking lives for? This?”
Havoc and Mayhem ignore me and set upon the boxes like ravenous children. “Oh, shit, here’s Shredder,” Havoc says.
Mayhem grabs several, grinning like a madman. “And Splinter. And Leonardo. Oh, and Michelangelo. He’s my favorite.”
“Cowabunga, am I right?” Havoc says. Then he freezes, and the look he gives Horatio turns the room to ice. “Where the fuck is Scratch? And Jail Bird? They were a critical part of the deal.”
“You think you can fucking cheat us again?” Mayhem says.
“I tried to get them, but there was only one auction and the guy I was bidding against on eBay went way fucking over your budget.”
“Then you should’ve notified us, Horatio. This is unacceptable,” Mayhem replies.
“You know, I offered to show you both how to use eBay just so we wouldn’t have this situation.”
Mayhem tuts with his tongue. “You think we want our information in the system where anyone could find us? Fuck no. Not for you, not even for the Ninja Turtles. How are you going to make this up to us, Horatio? What can you do so that we don’t crush your cock into a bloody paste with our batons?”
Horatio’s eyes go wide and dart from Havoc, to Mayhem, to me — when they reach me, I shake my head, because I’ve clearly removed myself from this fucking situation. Finally, he sighs. “I think there’s something I can do. When I was bidding for Jail Bird and Scratch, I saw that someone was about to list the entire Undercover Turtle set. You let me keep my cock intact, and I’ll get you those.”
Havoc and Mayhem share a long look, then Havoc speaks. “Mint condition? Undercover Leo, Don, Mike, and Raphael? With their trench coats?”
“Unopened, mint condition, with their trench coats.”
“You have a deal,” Havoc says, and he and Mayhem both shake Horatio’s hand. “Sorry, Hunter, but you won’t be smashing this guy’s cock today — let’s go.”
* * * * *
Confused, with a drink in my hand, a knife wound in my abdomen, and a baby crawling around on the floor of the vacant home I’m inhabiting, I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m doing the right thing. Is this my best path to a stable, normal life?
Can one even have a normal life with Havoc and Mayhem around?
Or will it always be one of cock-smashing and Ninja Turtles?
I don’t know.
That’s the problem with being a parent — I want the best for Charlie, but every step of the way, there’s so much doubt. Am I giving him what’s best? Can I really do this? What if I can’t — what happens then? Every time I look at him, I’m filled with so much hope and so much fear; I’ve never been so afraid as I have been these last few days; one wrong move, one mistake, doesn’t just hurt me, it hurts that innocent, hopeful, full-of-potential little boy.
Fuck, how the fuck am I going to make it through?
But after I finish the whiskey in my glass, refill it, and look down to see that Charlie actually smiling and looks happy — granted, he is sucking on his toe — I realize this may not be the only way to a normal life, but it certainly feels right. If I keep this up, I can give Charlie what he needs, and eventually, get what I need, too. Revenge on Victor Moretti, and something else even more important, too, something that burns in my blood even hotter than my need for revenge and is as powerful a reason for staying in Ironwood Falls as anything…
A knock at the door breaks me out of my thoughts.
Drawing my gun, because it’s late and I’m not expecting guests, I head to answer the door.
“Keep your head down, Charlie,” I caution him. He burps. Brave in the face of danger, that’s my little man. “Get ready.”
