She hated me, wanted me gone. So I left for the afternoon.
Rolan and Viktor stood in her shop, sweating through their t-shirts. The place still stank like melted rubber and smoke. I leaned inside the door and watched as Rolan ripped out some dry wall and wiped his brow with his sleeve.
“You guys good?”
He looked over. “What’s up, boss?”
Viktor stopped worked, took a cigarette from his pocket, and lit up. “When I joined this merry band, I didn’t know I’d be doing this sort of fucking work.”
“You do whatever you got to do,” I said. “That’s how this goes.”
He shrugged and took a long drag.
“I hope you got a backup plan.” Rolan kicked at some crumbled drywall on the floor. “I can’t imagine this place is ever gonna be the same.”
“We’ll manage. Anyone stop by asking questions?”
“Couple guys, actually, but I think they were just curious tourists.”
“I’m surprised the fire marshal hasn’t been here yet.”
Viktor grunted. “You know how it goes around here. You don’t talk to cops or fire marshals.”
I laughed. That wasn’t strictly true. South Street was an affluent area and wasn’t exactly the hardcore Cosa Nostra controlled parts of deep south Philly. But the silence still held, I guessed, and that was good enough.
“I want this place finished in a month. Whatever it takes.”
Rolan snorted. “It’s gonna take a lot more than the two of us.”
“Hire guys. It’ll come out my pocket.”
“And materials?”
“Same deal.” I hesitated, eyes scanning the space. The floors were scorched, the walls barren and half-ripped to shreds. “The girl wants a say in how it all comes out in the end.”
Viktor laughed. “You letting her be your interior designer now?”
“It’s her shop.” I gave him a look. “You want to do the design instead? You got some bright ideas in that stupid fucking head?”
“I got ideas.” He took a drag. “They’re all shit, though.”
Rolan laughed. “Whatever the girl wants, we can do, within reason. Just get us some ideas and I’ll take care of it.”
“Fine. Hire guys. Buy materials. Keep good records though, damn it. I’m not paying some random fucking number. I want receipts.”
“Got it, boss.”
I lingered and looked at them before taking a deep breath. “We’re hitting the Jackals back.”
That got Viktor interested. The sick fuck. Rolan turned away and got back to work, but Viktor drifted over.
“What’s the plan?”
“Girl’s going to be bait. We’re setting her up in that bodega over in Fishtown.”
He grunted. “Not a bad idea.”
“Stick her in the back. Make it look like she’s dealing. Then when they come for the stash—”
“We hit them and cut some throats.”
“Exactly.”
Viktor nodded slow. He finished his cigarette then flicked it onto the ground.
I walked over, stomped it out, and picked it up. “Keep this shit outside, you asshole.”
He shrugged, took it, and tossed it out the door. “How many guys we going to have on her?”
“I want three at all times, with more nearby to come as soon as the shit goes down.”
“I’ll spread the word.”
“Pick out the guys you think will work best.”
“Got it, boss.”
I nodded, turned t the door, but hesitated.
Something felt off. I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was an odd feeling in my stomach that twisted and churned. I gripped the door frame as Viktor got back to it and started ripping down smoke-stained and half burnt drywall.
Then I realized. It was guilt. I hadn’t felt guilt in a long ass time.
But I felt guilty that her place went up in smoke because of me, and guilty that I was going to dangle her like a fish on a lure. It felt fucked up what I was doing to her, trapping her deeper and deeper. But I was paying her and paying her damn well for all this, and in the end, she’ll come out better and stronger than she was before.
The tests work. They always do.
She won’t thank me. She’ll never got down on her knees and tell me how grateful she was for all the shit I put her through that eventually made her better than she was before. But it won’t matter. I won’t need thanks.
I took a deep breath and turned back. I took out my phone, snapped a picture, and slipped it away again. Rolan gave me a weird look but didn’t stop what he was doing.
I left and tried to push the guilty away deep down inside.
I found her sitting on the back porch with her feet up on a chair. She had her head leaning back and her eyes closed, the sun shining down on her face. I leaned up against the back door frame and watched her for a few seconds before clearing my throat.
She lifted her head and looked back at me. “You’re back.”
“I’m back. Thought you made a run for it for a second.”
“Yeah. Considered it.”
“You made a good choice.” I walked over to the black metal table she sat at and dropped a magazine down in front of her. “Here you go.”
“What’s this?”
“Better Homes and Gardens.”
“I see that. But why?” She held the magazine up like it was dripping with lice.
“For inspiration.” I took out my phone and showed her the picture I took.
“Huh. Place looks terrible.”
“I know. But we’re working on it.”
“And this is supposed to help me think of what to do with the space when it’s time?”
“That’s the idea.”
She frowned at the magazine for a few long seconds then shook her head. “That’s weirdly nice.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing. That place is still yours, but it got fucked up on my watch. So I’m going to make sure that we make it right.”
She gave me another odd look and shook her
