The space was bare, concrete, washed out with grayness. At the tall windows, long lances of sun were home to dancing motes of dust. The two men, both dressed in black, sat on the floor, one against a concrete support column, the other leaning against a cinder block wall. They were separated by a dozen feet.
Derek Blough, 37, black, with a swimmer’s fitness, leaned against the column, his arm draped atop one bent knee, a bottle whiskey in said hand.
Christian Hall was propped up across from him, with wild auburn hair that was artfully disheveled. Both of Christian’s knees were up. He was smoking a Camel.
“Remember the food?” Derek said quietly. His words reverberated about the empty floor.
“Chipped beef, tuna casserole.” Christian came back. “And those tiny, round pepperoni pizzas.”
Derek chuckled. “You loved those pizzas. You put ranch on ‘em. Nasty.”
“How would you know, you never even tried it.”
“Ain’t tried cocaine either, but I know it’ll mess you up.”
Christian’s gaze narrowed. “You've never tried cocaine.”
Derek shifted, tensed. “You askin’ questions again?”
Derek nodded and eased a bit. “And then there was Hooper.”
“Hooper,” Christian said, his tone going dark. “Hooper.” He closed his eyes for a moment and rested his head against the wall. He looked to the ceiling. In the distance he could hear traffic. It seemed so far away. The sun was beginning to heat up the Chicago summer morning.
“Hooper seems like forever ago,” Christian said.
“He was the first.” Christian’s voice was so quiet that Derek had to strain to hear him.
“Gotta be thankful,” Derek said on the back end of a long swig of Maker’s. “He was the catalyst.”
“And now look at us,” Christian said. “Now we’re….”
“Brothers,” Derek said. He capped the whiskey and slid the bottle across the space to Christian.
The bottle skittered across the dirty floor and Christian snatched it up. He didn't open it.
Derek pulled his thumb across his bottom lip. “It was high school. The cliques, the drugs, the hell.”
Christian chuckled. “I never thought about it like that.” Christian looked at his cigarette, a long arm of salt and pepper colored ash having formed. Why had he lit the thing in the first place? He flicked the smoke and a breeze sent the ash swirling.
“Only way to think about it,” Derek said. “Only way to make it through day after day. Only way to make it—”
“Passable,” Christian finished.
Derek nodded and smiled. “You smart as hell, man. Always been.” His smile shifted. “That’s why this is so damn upsetting. Frustrating.”
“Too bad we can’t go back to the old days.”
Derek’s nod was slight. “Back when the only problem was fights in the yard, watchin’ your back in the shower, sleepin’ with one eye open.”
“Wasn't so bad once we were watching out for each other,” Christian said.
“Which wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for Hooper.”
“I know you don’t like it,” Derek said. “But if you two weren't cellmates, then he wouldn't have claimed you. He wouldn't have pimped you out, and we wouldn't have put him down.” Derek shrugged. “You and me weren't tight…not until we beat his ass.”
Christian took a long drag of his cigarette and then chased it with whiskey. “Ever think that maybe we didn't have to…?”
“If maybes were money I’d buy me an IHOP.”
Christian smiled. “You got me through.”
“We got each other through, man. We showed strength, and then we started movin’ the stuff that people wanted. We earned the cred we had. We were smart.”
“You were smart,” Christian said. “You rode that wave even after we got out.”
“You coulda been there too, man.” Derek laughed. “Instead of payin’ some debt to the straight and narrow.”
“Had to try.” Christian slowly crushed the cigarette against the concrete floor.
“But ya came home,” Derek said. “And look at what we built.”
Christian met Derek’s gaze. “The clubs, the cars, the girl, the guns. You’re a king man.”
Derek nodded slowly and chewed on his lip. “So were you.”
Christian nodded. “The good ‘ole days.” He sighed on the exhale. “So. What do you want to do?”
Derek stood slowly, walked to Christian, and took the whiskey. He walked away taking a long drink. He winced and hissed. After putting a couple yards between them he turned back. “What do you want me to do, Christian. You know me, man. Once the seed’s been planted, once my people have me thinkin’ that you’re a—”
Derek was shaking his head before Christian was finished. “There’s too much, my brotha. There’s too much to make he doubt.”
Christian pushed himself up and covered some of the distance. “Derek—”
“I catch you makin’ phone calls, when I check your phone its all deleted, I see you whispering with people at the club, you’re always disappearing, and talk is flyin’ around about you—”
“I’m playin’ everything safe, just like you taught me. I’m making new connections, networking, building my own business, just like you taught me.”
Derek yelled, “But if I can’t trust you…!”
Derek looked at his feet for a moment. “If what people say is true, and you’re a cop…and I let you walk. I’m weak. People’ll move in. Take what I got. And next thing you know…I’m put down.”
“And if you’re not a cop…and I let you walk…I’ll never be able to trust you, not all the way,” Derek looked up now. “I can’t keep you close if I can’t trust you. And I can’t let you run around, no leash, if I can’t trust you.”
Christian opened his mouth to say something, decided against it, and moved to Derek.
“Listen, man,” Christian’s breath was hot, his voice quavered. “Please, man. I’ll…I’ll run and I won’t look back—”
“I won’t talk…I won’t ever talk…not about anything.”
“You saved my life!” Christian spat. He wiped angrily at his welling eyes. “You coulda let Hooper put me in the ground, but you saved me. And now you’re gonna—”
“I can’t…I can’t go back…I can’t risk you putting me back in there—”
“What am I, Derek? I’m a cop that’s done drugs with you?” The tears feel freely now. “I’m a cop that’s buried bodies for you? I’ve sold girls and guns for you while I was wearin’ a badge?”
Christian laughed dryly. “What? In the middle of our run I got…what…religious? I turned to God and decided to betray the only family I have?” Christian slapped his hand to the back of Derek’s neck. “I would never do anything—!”
Derek threw his arms around Christian.
Christian returned the gesture and they both shook under the weight of the embrace.
“I’ll do anything, man,” Christian pleaded into Derek’s neck. “I”ll do—”
There was a pang in Christian’s side. Sharp. Precise. Gradually the pain began to spread.
Slowly the two men separated. Derek put his hand at the back of Christians’s neck and pulled their foreheads together. Both men looked down between them to see Derek’s hand on the hilt of a blade.
Christian’s breathing began to quicken.
“I’m sorry.” Derek said. “I’m sorry.”
Derek walked them back two steps and Christian felt a support column at his back. Derek lowered Christian to the ground.
“Look at me,” Derek said quickly, wetness burning his eyes. “Hey…look at me.”
Christian rolled his gaze. “I’m not a…”
Derek nodded. “If it wasn’t me…it woulda been someone else. I ain’t…” Derek swallowed thickly. He leaned forward and kissed the top of Christian’s head. “It had to be me, man. It had to be me. I couldn't let it be somebody else.”
Detective Christian Hall’s body was found three hours later.
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