Tschida gripped Jay’s upper arms and steered him down the alley alongside Nick, who was clad in a sleeveless, light blue basketball jersey. Nick had purposely suggested Nick remove Sherry from the fray; after long walks, or even after the few fights they’d been in since high school, Nick favored his right knee. Tschida hadn’t asked how it had happened, because Nick could tell him if he wanted to talk about whatever had caused the injury. Besides, Tschida had his own secrets.
It had taken longer than usual for Tschida to devise a strategy, and he always preferred to have one. Before rushing in, it was best to know who was involved and why.
But through it all, that white smile with the long canines kept invading his thoughts, along with that low, baritone laugh that came from deep within Desmond’s chest. There are more important matters at hand, like the angry man I’m holding right now. This is not the best time to think of Desmond Caligari’s touch, or the way he violated my personal space.
I’ll be over this in a day or two. I’m not used to seeing men that striking. That is all this is. That is all it can be. How much would I suffer here if others knew this secret?
Theodric’s voice answered Tschida’s thoughts, “You could never control your emotions; it stands to reason you can’t control your own body. How could you ever have been anything but a burden to Tschida Insurance?
“It doesn’t matter now if you won’t be able to scrape together a wife to provide heirs for whatever pittance you make in this life. You might think you are on your way to become a lawyer, but you have squandered and destroyed every opportunity you’ve been given. You are not a shrewd boy, Melvin.”
“You screwed with the wrong people!” Sherry shouted, snapping Tschida back to reality, and away from his father’s imaginary lectures. She stopped beneath the yellow pool of light at the end of the block, a few paces in front of Nick. Her fists were clenched and her bun bobbled atop her head as she shook in rage.
“Yeah, her uncle’s the Chief of Police,” Jay said, grabbing Sherry’s arm. Had Tschida released Jay without even realizing it? Had his thoughts distracted him that much?
And now mention of Chief Butch Janowski. I cannot get away from Janowskis today. His eyes met Nick’s. There was no way Tschida would be able to spring himself or his friends from any further Janowski run-ins. And no matter how wrong Sherry had been, Ian would surely guarantee Tschida and his friends would be punished, arrested for some transgression or other.
Nick’s face reddened behind his freckles. “Shit.”
“We need to go now,” Tschida said, hoping Luca and the other couple were still waiting outside. It would be better for them all if they quietly left before the Anthracite City Police Department was on the scene.
He kept panic from his face and his step as he walked at an even pace. If he panicked, others would panic. Once you gave into panic, it quickly took over and muddled thoughts and reason. It showed weakness, too.
Luca waved when Tschida and Nick rounded the corner into the alley. “Are they go—”
“We need to go right now,” Tschida said, and cast a pointed look at the couple. “All of us.”
“That chick is Janowski’s niece,” Nick said, punching the dumpster with the hand that didn’t have busted knuckles. Tschida could only guess what Nick had punched earlier; at least it hadn’t been Ian.
Luca paled beneath his purple bangs and he clamped a hand over his mouth as if he might be sick.
“Okay, Tina, back to your place?” the man in the blazer said, sliding his hand from his girlfriend’s shoulder to lace his fingers with hers.
“Yeah. At least there are only normal people there.” Tina laughed nervously and gave the three other men a short wave, the kind of wave that said she was in a hurry to leave. “Thanks for the help. I don’t know what would’ve happened if it weren’t for you three. Stop by Café Capaldi one night! I’ll get you drinks!” She gave another wave as she and her boyfriend hurried for the street and hopefully a car that would get them swiftly away from the bar.
###
“Thanks for showing up when you did,” Luca said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He still wasn’t sure if he’d made everything worse, but he’d at least been able to keep Sherry from doing too much to Tina until more capable help arrived.
“Saul told us you intervened,” Tschida said, looking over his shoulder. The cracked sidewalk wasn’t wide enough for the three to walk abreast. Tschida was in front, Nick slightly behind, and Luca trailing after. Nick and Tschida frequently looked over their shoulders, as if worried some misfortune would befall Luca.
“It wasn’t your fight,” Tschida continued, his tone bearing the hint of exasperation and condescension. “While I appreciate your penchant to be noble, inviting trouble could lead to more trouble. Need I remind you two that we are not out of the woods yet. Sherry saw us well enough to give a detailed description, and your hair is noticeable, Luca. There is a reasonable chance officers will be looking for us, perhaps with stories that we attacked her and her boyfriend unprovoked.”
“I couldn’t do nothing!” Luca argued. “What if you two had done nothing all those times Don and me…” He stopped. He couldn’t focus on avoiding the cracks and holes in the sidewalk and properly gather his thoughts. “I’m tired of being passive. I’m tired of being weak and watching as I get older and nothing is getting better.” It all seemed meaningless – the hours he spent working, ignoring the anger and corruption around him, because he was powerless.
Nick crossed his arms. “Stick to helping birds with broken wings or getting lost dogs to their homes, or carrying old people’s groceries. Nothing with the Janowskis! We don’t need another Don to happen!”
Tschida scoffed at Nick’s words and Luca wondered why. Had he missed something? Nick hadn’t been in any trouble for a while. He wouldn’t be surprised if things were being kept from him; his work schedule kept him away. But it was more than that. Don Anders’s death had left a chasm between the remaining three.
“Nick, we’ll go to your house,” Tschida said. “We’re walking in that direction as it is. This is not the time to argue or lose our cool on a public road.” Without waiting for the other two to agree, Tschida turned and continued walking, his back straight.
“I have beer in the fridge,” Nick muttered.
Luca let the silence wear on for what seemed like minutes, but was probably more like seconds. He hadn’t wanted to hurt his friends or put them in danger. Had he been selfish to intervene? But helping Tina, that hadn’t felt as meaningless or futile as his working hours did. Perhaps, in another town, if there were such a place, if he had another financial situation, Luca might have tried to become an officer, or maybe a counselor, or someone in a position to make a difference in the world he lived in.
“How are you two?” Luca said and bit his bottom lip. “It’s been a long time since we were all together.”
“January,” Nick said.
Six months? Half a year, when at one time they’d seen each other every day? I’m really not making time for anything important. I know I gotta pay my bills, but what’s the point if I can’t even see the people who matter most?
“January seventeenth,” Tschida clarified. “During the blizzard.”
The blizzard had heaped two feet of snow on the valley and everything was shut down, including Luca’s workplaces. The three had decided to meet at Nick’s, clear the snow that had gathered, drink beer, and make small talk.
“How…how are you two?” Luca asked again, hating the generic question, but he hoped he sounded sincere. But there had to be things they hadn’t spoken about via text in those months.
“Fine,” Nick and Tschida said in unison, the latter panning his head from side to side as they walked between the rows of double-block houses on either side of the street. Many front porches sagged, the paint chipped. People didn’t have the time or funds to keep up with their properties, not with the constant raising of taxes.
Whenever they were out on the streets, Tschida was usually vigilant like this, as if wanting to see any potential threat before it arrived. He’d been that way since their schooldays, but it was more pronounced after the one time he was late – the day Tschida had almost killed Ian Janowski. As soon as Tschida had arrived, and quickly taken down Ian’s companions, Luca had fled like a coward and hated himself for months afterward. Why hadn’t he tried to help Tschida? Maybe if he had been able to intervene somehow, maybe if he hadn’t run away, Tschida wouldn’t have been arrested and Don wouldn’t have died?
On that day, when Ian had waved a blade in front of Luca’s face, far more extreme than the wedgies and obviously fake social media accounts Ian had made in the past, Luca had seen a murderous rage in Tschida’s eyes. It had been Tschida who had scared Luca. How could I have been afraid of someone who’d been willing to spill blood for me?
Even with those ominous eyes, Tschida had tackled Janowski’s friends with calm, brutal efficiency, not even so much as a shout or curse. Much later, Luca had learned Don and Tschida had both been arrested by Butch Janowski and the other responding officers – Tschida for attempted murder, and Don for drugs. However, in a week, Tschida had been released from Northeastern County Correctional Facility, all charges dropped. That same day, Don Anders exited the prison in a body bag. The official story was that he’d killed himself. He’d remembered trying to help Don’s ailing grandmother call the county for any kind of details, but everyone they’d spoken to had been tight-lipped.
Tight-lipped – much like the surviving members of the former quartet had been. Luca often sat listening as the other two spoke about sportsball, Nick talking about his favorite players and Tschida rattling off statistics that made as much sense to Luca as hieroglyphics.
Luca unlocked his phone as they walked and held it in the corner of his vision so he could watch out for the cracks and breaks in the sidewalk. He opened his Disco app and messaged the one person he’d spoken with candidly since Don’s death.
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