Fixed Parts Read online

  I steadied myself then grabbed the roller door, which boomed in the night, shaking violently as if it had not been touched in years. I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, then switched the light on.

  I was greeted with shelves. Three to be exact. Each was stacked with endless boxes each housing a tape. I stepped deeper into the room. The stagnant air wrapped itself around me, and I could feel it bore into my nose and slide down my throat.

  I scanned the tapes, each was marked by a number. The number. The file numbers in his book. The numbers powerful enough to bring down half the city. In my mind, each number became a name, an offence, and a weapon. I searched for Judge Crabb, seeking his tapes. They would mysteriously fall into the presses’ hands in the following week and rain down a shit storm.

  I grinned at the thought and searched the shelf for one more number.

  6789327.

  I grabbed the tape and tucked it into my jacket pocket.

  I closed the locker behind me, and returned to the booth where Salvatore stood with his gun still pointed at the guard.

  “Thank you for your help, Desmond.” He glared at me, hatred burning behind his eyes, “Now this is what we’re going to do. You will delete tonight’s log of opened lockers, and once you have done that my friend and I will leave. Nod if you understand.”

  He did.

  I tipped my head forwards and Desmond turned in his chair and faced his computer reluctantly pushing buttons. I resisted the urge to pet him on the head and call him a good boy.

  “Good. You can walk around the place and seal all the doors that popped open,” I winked at him, “Feel free to look inside them, I really don’t give a fuck.”

  He nodded again.

  “You’ll then bring the camera system back up and, when asked about it in the morning, say there was a system glitch. You managed to fix it, so no harm done. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Desmond’s voice cracked.

  “One last thing Desmond,” I locked eyes with the man, “I am going to keep your licence. If anyone gets a whiff of what’s happened here tonight, your family will bear the consequences. Do you understand?”

  He nodded again and his eyes shone with hateful tears, “What about this?” He gestured to his swollen face.

  “I’m sure you’ve lied to your wife before haven’t you Desmond?” I smirked at him, “Tell her you were mugged on your way home, tell her that’s how you lost your wallet.”

  He tipped his head and I placed my hand on Salvatore’s shoulder, “Let’s go.”

  We retreated. Once out of eyeshot and earshot, we jogged to the car and jumped inside. Salvatore drove us back to the bar, my heart chugged the entire trip back.

  Salvatore remained silent keeping his questions to himself. I appreciated that about him, he knew how to mind his own fucking business.

  He pulled back into the alley and killed the engine.

  “Hold on,” He stilled his hand hovering over the door handle. I dug into my pocket and produced his tape. I handed it over to him.

  He took it, his eyes growing large, his mouth falling slightly open as he realised what I had given him.

  “Mine?”

  “As promised.”

  Whatever feeling overwhelmed him, he swallowed it down. I could see his entire body fighting to remain rigid, proper, hidden. “Thank you,” He cleared his throat and got out of the car, tucking the tape into one of his pockets.

  I cocked my head at his empty seat and followed him back into the bar.

  Everything had gotten louder—the music, the people, the slurring. Salvatore ordered two beers.

  When the barman placed them on the bar, he grabbed his and tipped it slightly towards me, “Salute.” He called and downed the amber drink. I wasn’t sure if he was lamenting or celebrating, either way the alcohol sent warmth into my body and eased the tension of the night.

  When Salvatore dropped me off at the car wash, the follow car was waiting in the shadows.

  Salvatore gripped my arm, “Remember what I said—a day or two max ,and then you disappear.”

  “For how long?”

  “Just till the heat dies off—a month, maybe two.”

  “And then?”

  “And then you can throw your match.”

  I wasn’t meant to see Salvatore again for a while, but then Spots got hurt and I had inadvertently found a place to lay low. Simone never really knew that she didn’t only save Spots’ life, she also saved mine.

  That night I pulled out the polaroids again. I promised the faces retribution. I needed to make their pain worth something. I vowed to make their fathers feel their pain, to ensure that anything Tony ever touched wouldn’t survive. I was going to destroy and burn it all, just like he destroyed their lives, just like he tried to destroy mine.

  PART XVI

  My stomach felt as if it housed a snake pit, squeezing and slithering as the plane sliced through the lightening sky, inching its way back home, to Simone, to Spots, to danger.

  Mia’s presence kept me sane. The squeeze of her hand when she felt the tension in my body, the soft, gentle kisses that said it will be ok. Her caring looks and generous nature; it was Mia who got me through that flight without losing my mind, and I loved her for it even more. She understood how deep the pain ran, how urgent the panic was that flooded my very soul. She had known death and loss, and her face held plainly the hurt she held for me until I was prepared to face it and feel it myself.

  The plane landed with a screech of the engine as if it too was crying for Simone. We tore through the terminal and passport control, and climbed into the waiting car. Romeo drove. The tyres squealed around corners, like everything around me was in pain, suffering, telling me to run. I should have listened.

  The car pulled into the hospital parking bay, but I was already running, somewhere in there was Simone. She needed me.

  The reception area was full. Disease and sickness emanated from half the people in the waiting room, worry and stress from the other half. Murmured conversation and the occasional cough rose above the click-clack of keyboards and ringing phones. I ran to the reception desk and clutched at the plastic counter.

  “Simone Moore, please?”

  The receptionist looked me up and down through her piggy eyes, set deep in a mound of fat, clucking her tongue. I fought the urge to slap her across the face as she typed on the keyboard looking bored and under appreciated.

  “You family?” Her eyes turned to slits as she examined me, her words slurring.

  “Yes, I’m family.”

  She gave me a sceptical look then flashed another look at her screen. “Room 287, third floor to the left. Burns unit.”

  “Burns unit?” My heart shuddered and stopped, then rebooted with hurtling speed.

  She rolled her eyes at me and sighed, “That’s what it says here.” She waved her hand at the screen as if chasing away a fly.

  I was the fly.

  “Come on Gabriel, let’s go see her.” Mia’s voice sounded soft and distant. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there.

  I turned away and marched to the elevator. Waiting. Grinding my teeth. Feeling my pulse beat throughout my entire body.

  The elevator ground to a halt and the doors pulled apart like tearing skin. My feet echoed on the tiled hallway. It felt endless, another tunnel with no light, stuffy with an undertone of bleach and despair.

  Another desk, another nurse, another show of pretence.

  “I’m here to see, Simone Moore.”

  “Are you family?”

  “Yes.”

  The nurse looked me up and down, taking in my weary appearance. Her face was lined and coarse, a testament to the horrors she had witnessed throughout her career. She was gentle under all those furrows, her eyes sad and full of compassion.

  “Let me get the doctor for you.”

  She disappeared behind a door and, once again, there was Mia’s touch. Her hand laced into mine and squeezed, willing me to part wi
th some of my tension, some of my fear. But I couldn’t, not until I had answers. Not until I saw Simone.

  The doctor’s face broke into a smile even as she approached. It was practiced and fake, and I hated it. Her white coat was neatly pressed and she nodded to the nurse as they broke apart.

  “Hello, I am Doctor DeMar. Please sit down.”

  “No. I want to see Simone.” The doctor stilled for a second then nodded.

  “I’m sure she’s looking forward to a visit from some family, Mr…?”

  “Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel. I just want to prepare you.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, settling the bile that rose in my stomach. I didn’t move. Silence filled the empty room.

  “Follow me,” The doctor relented, “But only one of you.”

  “Send her my love.” Mia released my hand and retreated to the tired looking couch in the small waiting area.

  The doctor spoke as we walked down another narrow corridor, “Miss Moore sustained third, second, and first degree burns along most of her body. The worst being on her face, hands and the upper torso,” Her voice was monotonous and professional as if she was giving a financial report, “We sedated her and she has been sleeping through most of the pain. We cleaned and sterilised her wounds, and she’s comfortable for now.” She paused, perhaps thinking I needed time to digest. But all she was giving me were words, words that didn’t mean a thing until I could piece it all together with my eyes. At my silence she continued, “She will need surgery, skin grafts. Right now, we are taking it one day at a time.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “She’ll need a lot of support throughout her recovery…”

  “Now.” The doctor gestured to a door on my right.

  “Through that door is a change room. You’ll find a gown, gloves, a hair net and a mask. The nurse will help you.”

  “Thank you, but I’ve been dressing myself since I was three years old.”

  “That may be so, Gabriel, but our main concern at the moment is preventing infection. With so much skin exposed…”

  “Why are you letting me see her?” I interrupted the doctor mid speech.

  “Please follow all the instructions as you undress. Once you’re dressed, Ruth will take you through to see her.”

  Her aversion to my question sent my heart plummeting. I charged into the room already ripping my clothes off.

  The nurse, who waited for me in the sterile room, froze for a moment, then her eyes smiled at me beyond her mask, “You must be Gabriel; Simone will be so happy to see you.”

  I followed Ruth’s tedious instructions, my palms feeling too sweaty in the gloves, my body too hot in the gown.

  When I was dressed and sterile, Ruth swiped her keycard across the card reader and pushed through the adjoining door. As I made to move into the room, Ruth touched my arm ever so lightly and looked into my eyes, “Be gentle Gabriel.” She patted my arm and released me. I stood for a second considering her words and stepped into Simone’s room.

  I looked at the body on the bed and my heart stumbled. Simone’s face and arms were bandaged. The bandages looked too white against the faded, greying sheets that have been washed too many times.

  I edged closer to the bed, seeking her face; bandages hid the entire right side, red angry skin edged the dressing. Singed hair poked from between the wraps, completely gone in places. What I did see of her face seemed suddenly too old, too haggard. The joy and happiness charred away by the inferno. She looked too small, too frail, too broken.

  “Simone?” I called to her as I approached the bed.

  She answered with a garbled moan.

  I turned to the nurse, “Can I touch her? Can she hear me?”

  “She can hear you alright, but her throat was singed. She inhaled a lot of smoke so she has trouble talking.”

  I nodded.

  I dragged the chair next to the bed, my heart tripping and chugging. I clenched my jaw and lay my hand on Simone’s. I almost thought I could feel her flinch. A blackened finger peeked from beyond the bandage.

  “Hey, I’m here,” I looked at her, and her body shifted in the bed. Her left eye opened into a thin slit, and her lips tipped slightly upwards.

  “Never thought seeing my ugly mug would bring anyone such happiness,” I brushed my hands along my face.

  “Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember anything?” Her eye opened a little larger and it floated about the room, flicking from my face, to her hand, to the nurse and back again.

  “You don’t worry about a thing. I’ll have them move you to the private hospital in the city. You’ll get the best care there is. We’ll rebuild…” my voice felt strangled as I watched her face grimace.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll look after you, just like you looked after me,” I choked on my words, “I promise.”

  I could feel the tears well in my eyes and the anger fuel beneath my skin. More promises. How many more was I going to have to make, how many was I going to be able to keep?

  I sat for a while, watching her breathe, watching her fight. My heart beat trying to match the beeping of the machines around the bed.

  I scanned the room, it was devoid of any colour, decoration, or hope. Maybe white was the colour of healing, but it just felt empty, like a tomb. Everything was too clean and sterile, sparse and functional. Depressing.

  “You’re going to have to leave now, we need to change her dressings and she needs to rest,” An agonised moan leaked in from an adjacent room. I clenched my fists into the sheets and slammed my eyes shut wishing I was anywhere but here.

  “Sir.”

  I looked up at the nurse who was now standing a foot away from me, “I’m not leaving her.”

  She just smiled from behind her mask and approached, her hand landing on my arm, “You can’t help her Gabriel. If you stay while we change her, you increase the chance of infection,” her hand squeezed my arm, “The best way is for you to go now.”

  I rubbed my hand over my face and nodded. Her gentle touch fell away.

  “See you soon, Simone. I’ll be back later. Mia sends her love.”

  At my words her eye flew open and her fingers searched for my hand.

  “Watch…For...Mia…” her voice was hoarse and raspy, and she coughed struggling with the words. The heart rate monitor exploded into life, the beeps chasing one another.

  “Of course I will watch out for her, I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise,” I gave her a waning smile that I hoped she noticed behind my masked face. The crazed beating of her heart screamed in the room.

  “I’ll be back.” I called over the noise.

  “Gabriel, time to go.”

  I watched Simone’s face, her wide eye, her stiff body. The pain drifting away as the nurse plunged a dose of morphine into her IV.

  As I left the room, I wondered what spooked her. What did she know? And why was Mia in trouble?

  Mia.

  My heart wobbled. I had left her alone. Again. I tore the gown and mask away as I sprinted out of Simone’s room and into the waiting area.

  Mia sat in a stream of sunlight that fell through the book sized window. The single ray played and filtered through her hair and coated her honeyed skin. She looked up from her magazine when she saw me, her eyes growing wide as I ran to her. Into her.

  I hooked my arms around her and pulled her to me, allowing my soul to shatter against her body.

  “Gabriel?” She held me as I took her warmth and sucked it into myself.

  “We need to go. I need to talk to Salvatore.” I pushed away the pain, the anguish, and the anger, and buried it deep beneath layer after layer of unresolved issues and undealt with feelings.

  I pulled away and snatched her wrist, yanking her behind me.

  I stopped at the nurses’ station, “Who do I need to speak to about moving Simone Moore into St. Martin Memorial Hospital?” The nurse looked at me, the compassion filling her face hiding something else.

  �
�You can talk to Doctor DeMar about that, and she can fill in transfer papers. But she won’t, not for a few weeks anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  “With burns like the one’s Simone sustained, the risk of infection is very high. Moving her now could kill her. I know you want what’s best for her, but she is getting the best possible care, I can assure you.” The nurse’s fingers twitched, as if she thought of moving her hand, then changed her mind, “Simone has a long road to recovery ahead of her. She is very lucky to have you.” Although her smile was tainted in sadness, it was genuine.

  I sucked in a deep breath and nodded then turned down the hall, dragging Mia along with me.

  “Gabriel, slow down.”

  I ignored her and ploughed through the entrance and into the waiting car, “Take us to Sin. Now.”

  Music poured from the speakers. Shining red and pink lights cast beautiful, swirling patterns across the stage and beamed off the poles.

  As we entered, three girls were climbing onto the different stages and gripping their poles. The music began to pound and the women danced. I didn’t have to time look; I didn’t need to. I’ve seen it all before.

  I turned to Mia who seemed mesmerised by the dancers. I turned to Romeo, “Don’t leave her side.”

  Then to Mia, “Enjoy the show, I’ll find you after I’m done with Salvatore.” She just nodded as if in a trance watching the women’s hips move and breasts bounce. If it wasn’t for the kind of day I was having, I would have been very turned on.

  I burst into the office. Salvatore sat behind the desk, his face flushed and his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His eyes flew open and his head fell back into the seat.

  “Do you need me to leave?” I looked him straight in the eyes, and he clenched his jaw, exhaling a breath.

  “You’re done, Amber.” He shifted in the chair. A moment later the petite blonde appeared from beneath the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes shot to me and she straightened, her bare breasts bouncing as her hand shot to cover them.

  “Sorry boss.” She hung her head.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Amber, just make sure he pays you.”