Charade

Benji

Vic was barely out the door before I got my hands on the bottle of whiskey sitting in the living room. I didn't even use a glass; just tipped it up and drank it fast. Ashley kept running through my mind. Vic had told me that we'd get a plan together when he got back, but I didn't think I could wait that long. My legs were shaking, fingers tapping, mind racing. I couldn't stop thinking about it. Was she dead, was she being tortured, raped, or cut open by some deranged man? Her screams echoed inside me. Regret like a brick in my gut. If only I'd said the right thing, or been a little quicker, or been a little stronger. I could've fought him off. I could've saved her. I took another swig of the whiskey, trying to put the screams to rest.

Half an hour after Vic left, I heard Artie grunt and walk down the rickety stairs. He met my eyes briefly.

"Just gettin' a drink, mate. I'll be out-a your hair in a minute."

I looked down at the whiskey bottle in my hand. Artie noticed my glance.

"No worries, mate. God knows you need it more than I do."

I smiled bitterly.

"You might be right there. Oh and, um, sorry I almost bashed your head in. If I'd known..." I trailed off.

"No, no, of course," he said, grabbing another bottle of scotch. "I get it, mate. You thought I was some crazy bush-man out to kill ya. Believe me when I tell ya I would've done a hell of a lot worse."

Artie smiled and sat beside me in the other recliner, pouring us each a glass.

"Sorry about your girlfriend," he said. "Really. I know what it's like."

"She's my sister, actually. And thanks, I guess."

"Ah," he said. "Yeah, never had one of those. Only child. Just like my boy."

As he handed me a glass, I studied his face, trying to find some resemblance between him and Vic. The only thing I could pin-point were the eyes; both the same shade of brown.

"Thanks," I said again, then took a swig.

"Well, if we're drinkin', might as well have the good stuff."

Artie leaned back in his chair and laid eyes on Lily, still sleeping, and his eyes drooped slightly.

"Have you met her before?" I asked. "Or is this the first time?"

"Didn't even know she existed before tonight. Didn't know anything."

"It's been a long time since you saw Vic, hasn't it?"

"Twenty years, at least."

"He told me you guys worked together. Like, scamming and stuff."

"We did. We worked together for years. After my wife died, I didn't know what to do with myself. I drank. Still do. Got fired from my job, couldn't pay the bills. So I took my boy out on the road and we became the greatest conmen to have ever lived. Or so we said."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "About your wife."

"Me too, mate. Me too."

I looked at my fidgety hands and let the silence fall for a moment.

"What was she like? Vic's mum?"

"Oh, she was beautiful. The love of my life. They were really close, the missus and him. They, uh, they baked together. She taught him how to make cakes and biscuits and all things sweet. He loved it, and he loved her."

I smiled, picturing a knee-high Vic smiling up at a sweet woman in blue, eyes alight with excitement over a hot oven. Then Artie gulped and pressed his lips together, and the air felt different.