The Devil And His Muse: A Gangster Story [On Indefinite Hiatus]

Third Time's The Charm

Third Time's The Charm

***

Matteo felt a taut slap hit the side of his face. His senses began to trickle in after long hours of numbness, or so Matteo thought.

He turned to the assailant, but only found Ray Isidro--a man in his forties who was barely five-feet-two, but with a razor-sharp gaze--grinning at him with his perfect white teeth. Ray chuckled, and once more playfully hit his face—neither hard nor forceful, but strong enough to help Matteo collect his bearings.

"Relax, kid," chided Ray in a derisive slur. "Ya done it. It's over. Got your second hit. Ain't you proud?"

Matteo wasn't entirely sure if he was shaking, but he only felt a slowly building chill under his skin. He did feel cold sweat on his face. He blinked a few times. Ray had slapped him again.

"Stop it!" Matteo finally cried out through gritted teeth.

"Ah, Ray, let him be," said a booming voice at the far end of the room.

They had finally settled in a small town bar owned by one of Mr. de Guzman's old hitmen. It was only a wonder that Mr. Ollie, as the owner was called, had lived to nearly sixty years old after being shot more than ten times in his lifetime, when he started his job at barely thirty. That age seemed late for most hitmen to begin their trade, but Mr. Ollie had learned very quickly enough, that he survived all those near-fatalities.

Matteo beheld the scarred face of Mr. Ollie who had begun to walk towards him with a shot of gin. The elderly man raised the small glass to his face; immediately the scent of alcohol spirits assaulted him.

"Just drink it," Mr. Ollie urged him sternly, but with a small hint of affection, as he was wont to give Matteo. "You're shaking, Matt. Damn it... By the time I've finished off my second target, I was almost aching to get to a third. And a fourth."

The booming voice earlier had reduced itself to a light chuckle that echoed across the room. It was Ace Corpuz, insanely built and huge at thirty-two, darkly handsome, and was part of Matteo's and Ray's three-man team. Matteo did the hit, Ray drove the getaway car, while Ace... Ace found ways to hide the bodies.

Matteo recalled how Ace had taken care of Caleb's body before the police barged in, as he ran off to the car in complete darkness where Ray sat waiting... how he saw Ace ever-so-swiftly carry Caleb's fresh corpse to a back exit as though the young man were nothing but a leaf. It never really came to Matteo's knowledge how Ace specifically dealt with Caleb's body, but according to the news, and the news was as vague as it can get, that Caleb was simply missing, that "eyewitnesses" had seen Caleb run out of the club like everyone else, otherwise unhurt, but in hiding; only a week had passed since then and his supposed whereabouts had not been revealed. Matteo was feverish with worry then, knowing that there were those who had seen his face even in the scarce, smoky light.

"They're with us," Ray had told him, his voice like chalky powder falling into the cracks of his brain. He was referring to the shadowed figures around him in the club. "You're okay, kid. You're okay."

This time, with his target named Joe Jimenez, it was Ace who practically smothered the life out of him. Matteo had managed to catch Joe's attention, even before the man had stepped into the bookstore, calling out with painstaking concern that the Joe had a flat tire.

Matteo had done his research: Joe Jimenez suffered from episodes of paranoia, but was also vainly protective of his cars. But Matteo's innocent, wide-eyed look scooped the caution right out of Joe, and the man ran for the parking lot.

Some few yards before Joe got to his Camaro, the man noticed in a blink that none of his tires were flat. The man's expression switched into shock, as though realizing that he had been duped and cornered, and before Joe could even yell out, Matteo at nearly the same moment pulled out his gun, silencer and all, lightning-fast he could hardly believe his own movements, and fired three shots, his fingers moving like automatons. Ace was behind Joe Jimenez like an apparition, clamping his beefy hand on the target's mouth, finishing him off. Joe's eyes were wide and frozen in horror at the trap that had been laid out for him and how foolish he was to have walked right into it.