Circle of Enemies

I turned back and looked him in the eye. It had been a couple years since I left prison and this life behind me, but I knew better than to show fear or try to make friends. “I’m Ray,” I said, keeping my voice flat.

He pursed his lips in a parody of thought. He really was amazingly stoned. I wondered, briefly, if I could rush him if I had to. “Ray Lilly?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, you should have said so. Go ahead down. Fidel is waiting for you.”

Fidel? I didn’t know anyone named Fidel. But Stoned had waved at the cellar door, so I stepped toward it and lifted it open.

Light and music came through the opening, but no voices. I walked down the stairs, letting the door fall closed behind me. There were two more young guys on my left, both tattooed and bearded like Stoned. Bud and Summer sat on a low couch on my right. Robbie stood at the far end of the room with a very short, very muscular man with a shaved head. He was covered with jailhouse tattoos, including one along the side of his neck that said THUG in Gothic letters.

And everyone was watching me.

Robbie smiled. “Ray! You got my message.”

He didn’t walk toward me, so I walked toward him. “Good to see you again, Robbie.”

His smile faltered a little. “That ain’t my name anymore, dude. It never was. It’s Fidel Robles.”

“Really?” I said. “All those years we knew each other and you never told me your real name?”

He shrugged and smiled more broadly. His teeth were straight and white, his face full. He looked healthier than anyone in the crew, myself included. “I used to be embarrassed, man. My parents named me after an enemy of America! Oh no! The shame!” He laughed, and I laughed with him. “Then one day I realized I had brown skin just like Castro, and a nasty habit of taking things from rich people. Then I realized, hey, I’m an enemy of America, too. And proud of it.”

I laughed and held out my hand. “It’s good to see you again, Fidel.”

He glanced down at my hand but didn’t take it. His expression told me that he thought it was a test he didn’t want to take, which it was. “I know you know,” he said.

CHAPTER FIVE

I let my hand and my smile drop. “We gotta talk about this,” I said.

“I agree.” Robbie waved toward the room. It was just basement storage—a couple of stools with torn seat covers in the corner, a massive beer fridge against one wall, with stacks of whiskey crates beside it. There was a tatty carpet on the far side of the room, and a yard-sale couch set on it. Bud and Summer were all alone over there. “Humble beginnings, huh? But we’re tired of being humble. We’re ready to move into the big time.”

Arne had looked at me with resentment and anger. But Robbie looked ready to thank me. “What happened to you?” I asked.

“I got a super power! Want to hear my origin story? It’s pretty fucked up.”

“Actually, I do. I really, really do.”

“That’s cool, Ray, but later. I need something from you first. Okay? We got more important things to talk about. What did Arne say when he called you back to L.A.?”

“It wasn’t Arne,” I told him. His smile became a little strained, as though he didn’t believe me. “It was Caramella. She said she was in trouble.”

“Come on, Ray. Are you kidding me?”

“Of course not. Caramella came to see me in Seattle. She said everyone was in trouble and that it was all my fault.”

“Well, she was wrong. I’m not sure I’ll ever be in trouble again.” He rubbed his chin, thinking of a new way to come at me. “Ray, you know that Arne was never really your friend.”

“I know it.” Robbie had been the closest thing I had to a friend. Still, though: only the closest thing. “And you were his second-in-command.”

“Yeah, but he trusted you. He always thought you were smart.”

“And he kept food in our bellies and games in the PlayStation. So why aren’t you with him anymore?”

“I already told you, dude. We’re through playing it safe. No more stealing cars, no more tiny payouts. We jumped the fence. No one can touch us now, so we’re moving up.”

“To what?”

“Anything we want! If I want to rob a bank, I can do it. If I want to kill a guy—even the best-protected guy in the world—I can do that, too. How much you want to pay me to kill the royal family in England? I could fly over there and fly back in a couple days and the job would be done. Me, I’d have the money in my Swiss bank account.”

I stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking. I was pretty sure everything Robbie knew about being an international hit man came from the movies.

“You don’t look all that convinced, Ray.”

“Can I hear that origin story now?”

“Don’t you get it? You could be in with us. I’m going to take my cousins over to see your boy later, and you could come with us.”

“Wally King isn’t my boy.”

“Oh yeah? He told us he was your friend.”