{"id":425,"date":"2020-06-16T18:36:46","date_gmt":"2020-06-16T18:36:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/?p=425"},"modified":"2021-08-02T16:44:50","modified_gmt":"2021-08-02T16:44:50","slug":"book-ii-chapter-23-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/2020\/06\/book-ii-chapter-23-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Book II – Chapter 24: Insha’allah"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"Illustration by Eyugho<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

The sun was setting sooner now. When Ferris looked out the window of the office building, the darkness startled him. Had he worked too late, or was it just another signal that summer was over?<\/p>\n

He glanced at his watch. Both.<\/p>\n

He rubbed the ache from his eyes. At least there was enough time to make it to Chinatown \u2014 it could even be walking distance if he shuffled intently enough. What did normal people do after work?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cGoing down?\u201d His coworker was holding the elevator door open.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks, Sandy.\u201d<\/p>\n

The \u2018L\u2019 button glowed orange before the cab began its descent. It wasn\u2019t uncommon for the two to share an elevator; she worked late even more than he did.<\/p>\n

\u201cHeaded home?\u201d he asked. It was a long enough ride that silence would have been awkward.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, meeting the rest of my team at karaoke. It\u2019s Friday \u2014 you do know what Friday is, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled, as if coming to revelation. \u201cYou should come with us. You never come out for office stuff \u2014 people think you don\u2019t like them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s true. I hate everyone here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sandy gave something between a scoff and a laugh. \u201cAnd that\u2019s why you bring bagels and shit on Wednesdays, because you hate us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHonestly, I\u2019ve got a thing. Meeting a friend at a\u2014\u201c He paused, trying to think of a more socially acceptable word than \u2018gambling den.\u2019 \u201cA bar.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I\u2019ll go with. Unless you\u2019re lying to weasel out of this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a lie. But\u2014\u201c Ferris gave a tight-lipped smile. \u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019d like this place.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

It was true. Sandy in marketing would have absolutely hated this place. There was no name, no sign, just a door without a number behind a Chinese bakery. It was a basement without windows, without any way to release the low-hanging cigarette smoke and the smell of liquor. Tonight it was here, card tables and televisions broadcasting five different sports and one news channel. Next week it would be gone, and this would be just another musty, empty basement.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuiet.\u201d Demos took a sip of scotch. \u201cIt\u2019s a perfect plan \u2014 unless you\u2019ve got a better one?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris watched idly as an elderly woman scraped a handful of chips into her bosom at the poker table.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, but I\u2019m worried about Lee. He\u2019s gotten away with a lot, but we might be pushing our luck. They\u2019re going to look into him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos gave him a sideways brow raise. \u201cThey? Who exactly is \u2018they?\u2019 You sound like a conspiracy theorist.\u201d<\/p>\n

They were both standing against a back wall, doing their best to stay out of the way as they waited for Victor to finish a conversation. Ferris\u2019 attention had drifted to a hanging television, muted with closed captions that were four seconds too slow. The news was on \u2014 bailouts, politicians, the usual.<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone.\u201d Ferris shrugged. \u201cJournalists, other cops.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve been on easy mode with Blakely until now. Nobody wants to go back to hard. We have to at least try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess so. And I appreciate you trying to use a video game metaphor for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid I use it right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris smiled. \u201cRight enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

There were few faces in the den that Ferris recognized. Victor was immersed in a one-on-one conversation, his words snapping, his hands gesturing in time. Alonzo was on a landline, hunched over a counter as he scribbled on scrap paper with a dying pen. He\u2019d arrived a half hour earlier with a friend \u2014 a square-headed man with a tightly buzzed haircut and a righteous curl in his smile. Ferris had seen him before \u2014 hadn\u2019t he? His name was something that began with \u2018B.\u2019 Buckle \u2014 no, that wasn\u2019t a human name. Buckley? Buckner.<\/p>\n

Whatever it was, they called him Buck, and Buck was watching the news. The marquee was half-hidden by poorly placed captions, but Ferris could see hints of senators\u2019 names and something about a new bill. Buck was grumbling to another patron as if the newscaster had attacked him personally.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll see how it plays out.\u201d Ferris turned his attention back to the Ghost. \u201cI trust you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, obviously.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJesus, I am never going to get this cigarette smell out of this shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos smiled. \u201cGood. Burn it. It\u2019s ugly.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before Ferris could ask how a plain white Oxford could possibly be ugly, Buck\u2019s voice rose with another complaint. This one was easy to hear.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust what we need.\u201d Buck lifted a hand to the television. \u201cMore fuckin\u2019 jews in office.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris could feel his friend tense beside him. There was one hard breath, his frame lifting from a slouch into a live wire \u2014 skin creasing as his fingers curled into fists.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot worth it,\u201d Ferris said, but the Ghost was already moving. \u201cDemos, no. Come on\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

The Italian was easily half a foot shorter than Buck, which he rectified by wrenching the man down by the back of his collar. Their eyes were even now.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Buck\u2019s shoulder jerked in reaction, but somehow this kid had a death grip on the back of his shirt. His expression twitched before settling on a sneer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat for?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos hadn\u2019t lost eye contact \u2014 hand\u2019t blinked. \u201cFor running your fucking mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what, for the fuckin\u2019 je\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cSay it again and you\u2019re leaving here in a bag.\u201d<\/p>\n

Buck\u2019s stare averted to Alonzo, who was still on the phone \u2014 oblivious. The man\u2019s sneer settled into a cold, satisfied smile. He knew something that they didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure about this, kid?\u201d When answered with silence, Buck continued in a snide half-whisper. \u201cFine. I won\u2019t forget this.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a beat, the fist on his collar loosened. Demos released him, making sure his words would be heard above the chatter of voices and the clinking of poker chips.<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither will I.\u201d<\/p>\n

Shoulders were bumped as the man exited \u2014 a brief gust of cold air and a door sliding shut. Demos\u2019 eyes remained on the door, locked hard as if the rusty surface had somehow wronged him. It wasn\u2019t until he heard another voice, one as heavy and broiling as a hot iron, that Demos looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you just do\u2014\u201c Victor took in one breath. \u201cWhat I think you did?\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos couldn\u2019t see his uncle\u2019s eyes past the glare in his glasses. \u201cI kicked him out.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause before Victor lifted a single finger to point at the exit. \u201cAlley. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris managed to catch his friend\u2019s eyes on his way to the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cDemos, you didn\u2019t have to do\u2014\u201c He shook his head. \u201cShit like that \u2014 I don\u2019t care. It\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d The Ghost\u2019s face didn\u2019t falter. \u201cIt\u2019s not okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 reply came too slowly to his mouth. Before he could even speak, he was alone in the gambling den. Voices thrummed and the clinks of glasses and bottles continued. Somehow, through it all, Alonzo was still on the same damn phone call. He would find out, sooner or later.<\/p>\n

Ferris sighed, downing the scotch that Demos had abandoned.<\/p>\n

The alley outside was chilly, a pocket of stains on concrete and abandoned milk crates. For once, the Ghost was too incensed to feel the chill. Every inch of his skin burned, inflamed by some furnace deep in his chest \u2014 and now his uncle was yelling at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you lost your fucking mind?\u201d Victor\u2019s breath was visible in the brisk night air. \u201cDo you know how long it took Alonzo to\u2014 che cazzo ti prende, he was a fucking IUPA rep!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d Demos spat. \u201cHe was a racist piece of shit.\u201d<\/p>\n

His uncle lifted both hands as if begging god for a better nephew. \u201cHe can be both fucking things! You need to keep that pride in check. Those are my<\/i> decisions \u2014\u00a0 <\/span>you\u2019re in my<\/i> crew. Act like a goddamn adult!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what about you? What would you have done if it were Harold?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe same thing!\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a silence between them, both catching their breath. Demos stared, unsure if he\u2019d heard correctly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d have done the same fucking thing,\u201d Victor said. \u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean it\u2019s okay. That doesn\u2019t mean you\u2019re off the hook.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine.\u201d Demos turned to glare at a wall. \u201cPunish me. But if I see him again I\u2019ll\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cYou will do nothing.\u201d Victor\u2019s hand was a knife, straight and hard and nearly close enough to graze Demos between the eyes. \u201cNothing without my blessing. Now shut your mouth and go home.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what about the\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear to god, kid. I will tan your hide raw.\u201d<\/p>\n

Finally, Demos quieted. The Ghost was foolish, but not foolish enough to speak another word. Instead, he nodded, then dropped his attention to the ground. He could hear Victor leave, shoes crunching loose gravel followed by the slam of the door.<\/p>\n

He knew he should probably go \u2014 walk away, try to remember where he parked his car, something. If Victor came back out and saw his face, it was likely he wouldn\u2019t have a face for long. Demos was paralyzed with at least two of the seven sins, heart pounding but feet unable to move. His chest seized when the door cracked open once more.<\/p>\n

It was only Ferris.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCazzo.\u201d Demos hissed, his hands clawing down his own face. \u201cSono fottuto. God fucking damnit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you, you didn\u2019t have to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cYes I did!\u201d Demos\u2019 eyes were wide, lined with red, with some kind of mania.<\/p>\n

The expected retort never came. Ferris pulled his friend in, arms tight over his shoulders. All Demos could feel was a steady, warm surface against his cheek \u2014 the texture of that ugly Oxford. It still smelled like cigarettes. His fists finally eased, no longer tight, no longer shuddering.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d Ferris\u2019 single word was partly muffled by the Italian\u2019s dark hair.<\/p>\n

Demos closed his eyes. What was it he\u2019d been angry about? Why was his throat so hoarse?<\/p>\n

\u201cMhm,\u201d was all he could reply with.<\/p>\n

A ring cut through his thoughts \u2014 a phone. It buzzed in his pocket, hauling him back to reality. It was only when Ferris released him that the Ghost realized it was actually cold outside. He cursed at his phone before drawing it to his ear.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh.\u201d It was Hassan. \u201cYou told me to call.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos exhaled. \u201cRight. Did you get anything?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Can you be here in ten minutes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTen?\u201d Demos scowled. \u201cWhat are you, late for an appointment?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hassan sighed loud enough for Ferris to hear. \u201cBecause I\u2019m from the fucking desert and it\u2019s cold out here. You can come later but I\u2019ll probably be dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine, Jesus. Be there in ten.\u201d With a beep, Demos ended the call. \u201cWhat a drama queen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDemos. Are you seriously calling another human being a drama queen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you.\u201d<\/p>\n

#<\/p>\n

It was a good thing Victor had called off whatever plans he\u2019d had for them. It would have been hard to get away. Another strike of fortune was that Foley Park was only nine blocks away. Their car pulled up alongside the curb by the park entrance. Wet leaves coated the walkway, which was closed off by a single chain.<\/p>\n

The vehicle had barely stopped when the side door opened. Hassan slipped into the backseat, sealing himself inside the warm interior and rubbing his hands together.<\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously?\u201d Ferris turned in the driver\u2019s seat. \u201cIt\u2019s barely below 50 outside.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hassan shot him a look. \u201cYou may be used to this frozen wasteland, that doesn\u2019t mean I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before Ferris could finish mouthing the words \u2018frozen wasteland?,\u2019 Demos spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you get?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Qatari patted around inside his coat for a moment before pulling out a device. It was a cassette recorder \u2014 a mini cassette recorder barely larger than a remote control.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere the hell did you get that?\u201d Ferris asked. \u201cThe Museum of 80\u2019s Garbage?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can throw it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos sighed. \u201cJust play it, Hassan.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a click followed by the soft hum of static.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou couldn\u2019t even do one fuckin\u2019 thing.\u201d Bruno Mariani\u2019s voice came through clearly \u2014 as clearly as a voice on a miniature cassette tape could. \u201cA bunch of kids and an old lady. And a guy we already softened up for you? Jesus Christ.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sent a handful of us to interrupt an assault rifle demonstration<\/i>.\u201d Hassan cringed at the sound of his own voice on tape. \u201cCouldn\u2019t send us before, when they were unarmed? Couldn\u2019t grab them on the way home? Had to send a message, didn\u2019t you? They\u2019re going to figure out it was you.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was the sound of Bruno coughing, then clearing his throat. \u201cI don\u2019t give a shit what they know. They can\u2019t prove it. But now those fucking Indians are gonna be armed to the teeth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no, the fight\u2019s even now.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a pause on the tape and Demos could only imagine the expression on Bruno\u2019s face.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re really testing my patience, you know that? If Al didn\u2019t vouch for you\u2014\u201c Bruno coughed again. \u201cAnd Sandro never liked you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Sandro is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd we\u2019re going to bury the little shit who killed him. The Ghost\u2019ll be a real<\/i> ghost.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hassan\u2019s groan was tinny through the little speaker. \u201cSwear to me you will never go into comedy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, raghead.\u201d<\/p>\n

The tape clicked off. Demos was silent for a moment, hand drawn to his mouth as he thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you consider us even now? For saving your life?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Qatari\u2019s chest puffed as he made a wild gesture to the man in the driver\u2019s seat. \u201cHe<\/i> shot me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell.\u201d Demos waved a hand. \u201cWe don\u2019t need to get into who shot who. Are you willing to keep this up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook \u2014 they don\u2019t care if we live or die. They threw us under the\u2026 train?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ferris leaned into his hand. \u201cBus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey threw us under the bus. Gave us shit when we survived \u2014 I\u2019ll tell you whatever you want if you promise me you\u2019ll at least kill a few of them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can do that,\u201d Demos said, a little too easily. \u201cI\u2019ve been wondering, though. How did they find out where the demo was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to talk to you about that, actually. It probably won\u2019t be a surprise, but\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

For the second time that night, Demos\u2019 phone interrupted one of his moments. The upbeat pop ringtone was wildly inappropriate for the situation \u2014 and the caller. Demos sighed at the pixelated photo of his scowling uncle before hitting \u2018answer.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cYou told me to go home.\u201d Demos\u2019 eyes were locked on the ceiling of the car.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, did we sign some contract where I\u2019m not allowed to change my fucking mind? Get your asses back here \u2014 both of you. Now.\u201d<\/p>\n

The call ended before his nephew could reply. He spoke anyway.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell. Bye to you, too.\u201d Demos turned back to Hassan, his eyes half-lidded. \u201cWe\u2019re going to have to continue this conversation later.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hassan shrugged. \u201cFine. Indoors, this time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, whatever. Indoors. We\u2019ll see you soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a bit of shuffling around his padded coat, Hassan slid the recorder back into his pocket. The back door opened with a crack.<\/p>\n

\u201cInsha\u2019allah.\u201d<\/p>\n

They could hear the man shuffling away, cursing at the cold. As Demos mulled over every recorded word he could remember, he noticed the car wasn\u2019t moving. It was still in park.<\/p>\n

\u201cFerris,\u201d he asked. \u201cWhy are you doing frowny face?<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to work with him.\u201d Ferris folded his arms, leaning back into the seat. \u201cHe\u2019s a sex trafficker.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re not going into business with the guy. We\u2019re using<\/i> him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt just\u2014\u201c Ferris rubbed his forehead. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t feel right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Demos squinted. \u201cFerris you\u2026 literally helped me bury a body like, just the other\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d he snapped. \u201cI\u2019m a hypocrite. If I acknowledge my high horse will you just let me brood about this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrood away,\u201d the Italian replied. He tugged a cigarette from a case, momentarily lighting the walls of the car with his lighter. \u201cBut also drive.\u201d<\/p>\n

The gear stick clunked as he shifted it back. Ferris sighed, then released the brake.<\/p>\n

\u201cFair enough.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Illustration by Eyugho The sun was setting sooner now. When Ferris looked out the window of the office building, the darkness startled him. Had he worked too late, or was it just another signal that summer was over? He glanced at his watch. Both. He rubbed the ache from his eyes. At least there was […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-425","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-6R","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=425"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":777,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425\/revisions\/777"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=425"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=425"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=425"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}