Fallen Angels

Bill Devine finished his coffee and waited for both a refill and his friend, Vinnie to show up. Bill looked out the Diner’s long curved Plexiglass window, it was difficult to see much of anything but the cars in the parking lot and a blurry man outside smoking a cigarette. “There he is, outside having a smoke, it figures,” Bill thought. Bill watched as the blurry figure wearing a long leather jacket flung his cigarette into the parking lot with ease and climbed the stairs to the entrance. He bypassed the host, an older Greek man who also owned the place. He knew Bill would be sitting in the same old place by the window in the front of the diner. He grinned when he saw him, “Hey Buddy, how’s it going?” He asked as he waved his arm from across the aisle. The waitress carrying the coffee was close behind him as he came over to sit down with his old friend. He sat down easily and draped his arms on the table leaning into Bill, whose familiar air of confidence was replaced with the aura of uncertainty he had rarely seen on him. "What’s going on buddy, is it serious?”

Bill recalled the phone call he had made to Vinnie, probably giving off a troubling vibe.

The waitress made it to the table, “Caufee?” she asked in her perfect Jersey accent. “Yes please.” Bill answered.

“How about you” she asked Vinnie nodding toward him.

“Yea yea, sure,” Vinnie replied leaning back and folding his arms to let her know that she was going to turn his cup over and fill it, that she was here to serve him. Bill reached over the table and turned the cup over for the waitress, giving Vinnie the “what’s wrong with you?” glance. Vinnie smiled, still leaning back. Bill leaned back, let the waitress fill the cups and drop some little cups of cream on the table between them.

“It’s a shame you can’t have a smoke in here anymore, with all these health nuts running shit these days,” Vinnie said loudly enough for a few guys and a woman to turn their heads toward him with a sour look on their faces, except for one man who smiled and raised his coffee cup to him in a gesture of comradery. Bill and Vinnie both filled their coffee with three creamers and at least five sugar packets.

“Light and sweet,” Bill commented.

“That’s right man, light and sweet, that’s the way I like it.” Vinnie replied.

Vinnie sat up straight again taking a sip of the coffee and letting Bill try his before asking again, “So what’s up?”

Bill looked at Vinnie and leaned in toward him, “they're gone,” he half whispered.

“They are?” Vinnie replied.

Bill took a deep breath, raising himself up and scanning the diner. “I went to the exact place we hid those relics, you know, just to make sure they were still there.”

“We gotta do something, we can’t just sit back and pretend it will miraculously reappear. We gotta find it and keep it between us and maybe some of the old club members.

“Ah jeez,” Vinnie said taking his hands off his face and setting them down near his coffee cup. He took a sip of coffee and said,

“Your right that we gotta do something, but I don’t even know how to get in touch with any of the old crew besides maybe Joe Gentile, we’ve talked a few times and I might have his number in my phone somewhere.” Vinnie’s casual manner was fading, and Bill could tell he was worried. He remembered the promise they all had made to meet at the spot they buried the stuff in a little metal box. They planned to meet up on June 22, 2024.

“I know. It’s sounds nuts, but maybe they know something, or maybe somebody took it, you never know.” Vinnie looked around the diner, it was like being back in his twenties except everyone was different, even the owners. The old juke box was gone too. He sighed and asked Bill if there was somewhere else they could go, have a couple drinks and “BE ABLE TO HAVE A GODDAMN SMOKE.” He said it as loud as he felt was permitted in a diner. Bill’s face reddened,

“alright, yea we could go to my place, let’s get out of here, I got some good whiskey at home.” Bill waved to the waitress for the check, she nodded and brought it over. Bill quickly took a twenty out of his wallet, threw it on the table and walked out with Vinnie.

Bill drove his Chevy Impala, with Vinnie behind him on his Harley. He turned left at the light, went down a couple of blocks and turned onto Lyndon, then made a right into his driveway. It was a big deal to have a driveway in this town, where cars were booted regularly. Vinnie pulled in and parked his bike next to Bill’s Chevy.

“Hey, you ride anymore. What’s with the Chevy?” Vinnie yelled over to Bill after taking off his helmet.

“Yea, I gotta nice Harley in the garage, but you know with the family and all.” Bill thought of his wife Cathy and their kids and felt the cooling relief of knowing they were safe South Carolina with her parents for a couple of weeks. She didn’t need to be a part of this, nor did his two kids, Billy Jr. and Danielle. They walked up to the door and Bill opened it saying, “Gotta stay locked around here, there’s been quite a few break-ins lately.” Vinnie followed Bill inside the small white colonial.

“Nice place you got here,” he said. “Mind if I smoke?”

“No, I’ll just open a window and Cathy took the kids down to her mom’s place for a visit, so no worries there.”

Vinnie sat down at the kitchen table while Bill pulled out his best whiskey and pulled out his bottle from the liquor cabinet, Jameson Black. He filled two glasses with ice, poured the whiskey over it and got lost for a moment watching the ice melt as the warm liquor began it's job. He set them on the table along with the bottle and a small metal bucket of ice. Bill sat down across from Vinnie, thinking that it was nice seeing him and that he’d rather reminisce about the old days than discuss the missing relics that they had stolen from the chapel. He was especially worried about that stupid knife, with his first name on it, that he threw in when nobody was looking. Why did we do it? We thought we were cool, we were rebels who hated church, but knew they could get a good price for some of the certified relics in the small chapel that was always open. We were going to sell them after we met in 24’, nobody would have thought of the burglary by then. There wasn’t any way to trace them, they thought. Vinnie had finished half the glass of whiskey by the time he woke Bill from his thoughts.

“So, whataya thinkin’, we go look for them? You know, I mean I’m totally up for it if that’s what we gotta do?” Bill sighed and took his first sip of alcohol,

“I gotta think, or rather we gotta think. And I definitely need to finish at least two glasses of this shit before I can even wrap my head around it.” Let's talk about something else first." Bill and Vinnie both gulped down their whiskey and Bill refilled them as Vinnie dropped some ice into both their glasses.

“Yea sure. Remember the day we started the club, that was what, thirty years ago wasn’t it?” Vinnie smirked,

“Yea, that was somethin’, wasn’t it? Two kids that hated their parents,”

Vinnie continued, “we thought we were cool, didn’t we?”

Bill smiled, “Yea we thought we were tough, well I really thought I was tough cause I knew you.”

“No shit, really?” Vinnie replied. Bill had already finished off his second glass and was beginning to feel the buzz.

“Yea, well mostly.” Bill and Vinnie had met at CCD, the program for Catholic kids whose parents couldn’t afford to send them to “Our Lady of the Lake.” They became fast friends when they both were latecomers and had to receive their First Penance and Holy Communion before they could be Confirmed. Both of their parents just got religion and started going to church all of the sudden.” Vinnie’s mother insisted on it since his father had been cheating on her. Bill’s mother did too, because his father drank so much, he was either going to die or quit, he chose the latter and started going to AA meetings. He had to turn his will and his life over to care of God as he understood him. Bill never really understood that but it made his father stop drinking and that was really all that mattered. His mom, who had been going to Al-Anon had given him an ultimatum, either go to AA or leave. His mom called it tough love but she was really just being a tough bitch.

Bill and Vinnie both had dirt bikes, so they decided to start a club that worshiped Satan, they called themselves “Hell’s Children” because "Hell's Angels" was already taken. Later, after they had more members and they were too old to be called children, it became “Fallen Angel’s” (after a unanimous vote among six teenagers between “Fallen Angel’s” or “The Demons.”) They would have meetings in an old broken-down shack in the woods of Verona, back when there were woods in Verona.

“Well you were cool; you didn’t take any shit.” Bill told Vinnie.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Vinnie replied, “I took a lot of shit, a lot of shit, but only at home, nowhere else. My father was a bastard. He beat the shit out of me more times than I can count.”

Bill looked at Vinnie “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” He poured two more glasses of Jameson and thought reminiscing might not be the best idea after all.

“You said you could get a hold of Gentile, right?” Bill asked, trying to change the subject.

“Yea, let me check.” Vinnie looked at his cell phone and tapped on it here and there until he said, “Okay, got it.”

Bill looked at him, “before you call, does Joe still live up there, you know by the high school?”

Vinnie smirked, “Of course not, he’s in some apartment complex living with a girl, near the pool, I think. Imagine he still lived his whacked-out parents? That would be somethin’.” Vinnie was still smiling as he hit the button to call Joe Gentile. Bill waited, finishing his third glass of Jameson and pouring another.

“Hey Joe, it’s Vinnie, we have a little issue here, nothing big but give me a call back alright, thanks talk to ya later.” Vinnie hung up, “he’ll call,” he said reassuring Bill who looked like he could use about five more drinks before he’d settle down.

Bill thought for a moment, “are any of our fingerprints on file? I mean something they could identify us with?”

Vinnie’s smile left and turned into a tight grimace, “yea, mine are.”

Bill’s eyes widened, “why?”

“Well it was a long time ago, but I did get picked up for a DUI, they arrested me and took my fingerprints.” Vinnie lit a cigarette, “I wouldn’t worry about it though, not yet anyway. Who knows? Maybe some kids found the shit and took it.”

Bill shook his head, ignoring Vinnie's lax attitude, “We’re going straight to Hell for all that shit. Who robs a church? Plus remember that pocketknife we put in the metal box; it had my fucking name on it?”

Vinnie crinkled his forehead and grimaced, “yea, but just your first name, there’s gotta be a thousand Bills in this town alone.” 

Bill paused for a minute, nobody had seen him throw that old pocketknife in there,His voice lowered as his fears seemed to somehow decrease and he looked like a child who was just rewarded for getting the right answer in class. Vinnie took no notice and seemed distant and a little eager to get this over with.

Bill once again spoke up. “I bet it was one of us, not you or me but one of us who might have wanted to sell it, figuring it’d be safe by now and none of us even cared anymore. “I bet it was one of us, not you or me but one of us who might have wanted to sell it, figuring it’d be safe by now and none of us even cared anymore."

“Hmm,” Vinnie said, his face was turning red but he kept talking, Vinnie always talked, especially when he didn't know what else to do.

“We gotta find out who’s either out of cash or turned into a junkie. Or we could check on-line for the pieces and see who’s selling them if that’s what this is.

I bet your fuckin’ right.” Vinnie put his hands over his face, “Jeez, I didn’t think I’d care, but my blood pressure must be going up.” Bill poured him another drink,

“Here man relax. One more thing, when Joe calls you back, don’t mention it and just ask to borrow money or somethin’. See what he says?”

Vinnie nodded, “Alright, good idea.”

“Oh, and see if he knows how to get in touch with any of the old crew, alright?” Bill seemed angry now.

“Yea man, no problem.” Vinnie answered, then gulped down the drink and poured another.

“You mind if I just stay on your couch tonight, we got a lot of catching up to do.” Vinnie reached over and patted Bill on his back.

Bill smiled, “yea, we sure do.”

Bill and Vinnie sat at the kitchen table recalling the old days until the bottle of Jameson was nearly gone and Vinnie’s phone finally rang.

“Yes, that’s it, could you hold on a minute.” Vinnie put his phone on mute, “I gotta take this outside, it’s my girl, you know what I mean.” Bill nodded “I think I have another bottle out in the garage, just stay here if you want, I gotta find it anyway.” Vinnie shook his head, “I need some air.” Bill went upstairs into the bathroom before heading out to the garage.

Vinnie was already half in the bag, but Bill had to be sure. He didn't want him waking up until his suspicions were proven. He got a bottle of pills out of the medicine cabinet, he poured five into his hand, then put two back.

“I don’t want to kill the guy, just knock him out for a while,” Bill said to himself.

He pushed the pill down to the bottom of his front pocket, used the toilet and walked down the stairs quietly, in case Vinnie had come back in. Nope, he was still outside. Bill could see Vinnie from the window walking back and forth in the thin line of the driveway that was still left. He took a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniel’s out of the liquor cabinet feeling a little disappointed that he had to sacrifice the booze. He looked at Vinnie’s glass that was mainly water and walked out the door that led to the garage. In the garage, he found an old glass bottle and crushed the pill. He listened to be sure Vinnie was still talking, he couldn’t hear anything, so he looked out the garage window and saw Vinnie leaning against his Chevy.

I had a feeling it was one of the old gang, but Vinnie? He had to have seen the knife and that meant he had taken it. “Fucking prick, didn’t think I’d figure it out? Did ya?” Bill walked back to the table that had the pills that were now a fine powder. He opened the bottle of Jack and clumsily wiped the crushed pill into the glass, then poured the liquor on top of it. He gathered everything up and headed quickly inside. He took the last of the ice and dropped it into Vinnie’s glass and had the pill mixed in just before the door opened.

Bill was tense and tried to relax a little, “here you go, man, I found it.” “

Nice,” Vinnie replied downing the whole glass at once. Bill poured himself a glass, drank it down and sat intently across from Vinnie like he was waiting for his clothes to dry. They both sat quietly for what seemed like hours but had barely been ten minutes.

“So, no word from Joe yet?” Vinnie began to blink as if he were trying to stay awake.

“No, not yet.” He blinked again “You know this stuff is hitting me pretty good, I might lie down for a little bit.” Vinnie said, waving his hand over his glass when Bill tried to fill it again.

“Oh, yea sure, let me get you a pillow,” Bill said heading toward the stairs, “It’s hitting me too, that Jameson is some strong shit.” Bill brought a pillow from the linen closet to Vinnie. “Rest up man,” he said as Vinnie took the pillow and was out in a couple of minutes.

Bill grabbed his keys after nudging Vinnie to be sure and quietly left the house, got in his car and headed over to Vinnie's place on Fairway Ave. He parked one street over and walked over to Vinnie’s. The door was locked but Bill knew the key would either be in the mailbox or under the mat,

“it better be here, I can’t just break in,” Bill said under his breath. It was in the mailbox giving Bill a much needed release of tension. He unlocked and opened the door. As he walked inside he thought to himself, “It’s gotta be here somewhere,” he began searching the house and the first place he looked he found it. He pulled out nine packs of $100.00 bills that were inside a slit in Vinnie’s mattress. If there was more, he didn’t care, he just wanted his fair share.

“Maybe I’ll make it look like someone did break in,” Bill thought as he hatched this last-minute, makeshift plan. He threw a bunch of junk around half heatedly and headed outside. He then thought a bit more and walked outside quickly as he thought it would be smart to smash the back window in so he did. Keeping his head down, Bill locked the front door and threw the key back in the mailbox.

Bill returned home, looked fondly at the picture of his wife and children and felt a great sense of warmth and security. Vinnie may be a fuck up, but thank God for my family. 

“Maybe I ought to start Going to Church,” Bill thought as he laid down with the money locked up tight in a safe, “I at least gotta give them 10%."