In the Pocket

Three knocks on the front door. Bill always knocked three times on the door of the of the name he had to cross off. He had been doing this for 20 years and it was something that he was good at. 1945 was the first time he had killed a man, not in the war but on the streets of Chicago. He was so close to getting out of this life that he had built, he only needed to finish this last job. He had enough money put away and he was going to use it to start a new life in Florida, a new life filled with sunshine.  His trusted Smith & Wesson 38 was his gun of choice, it had been his fathers, the only thing he had to remember of him. His mother Elaine had given him plenty to remember, the scar on the left side of his forehead from a gin bottle when he was 12. Elaine was always someone who’s emotions swayed like tall grass blowing in the wind but when she had her gin of choice which was Beefeater her mood could change in an instant.

“Come here my little Junebug” he recalled a childhood memory “I told you mom, I don’t like that nickname” Elaine tossed back the bottle of Beefeater she was drinking dropping the last drop in her mouth “What you think you’re too good now to come sit with your mama now?” throwing the bottle at his head and striking him across the left temple then bouncing off the wall and shattering on the ground. “Look at what you made me do!” Elaine shouted pounding her fists on the bed she was sitting in. As the blood started to stream down Bill’s face Elaine walked over to him and put her arms around him “My sweet baby, mommy’s going to take care of you. Were gonna fix you right up. You know you’re all I have in this world, right? Its you a momma against the world”. “I know momma” Bill said trying not to focus on the pain on his forehead, fighting the tears from pouring out with his blood. “Come on don’t be an ungrateful little shit” as Elaine grabbed the back of head, her face close to his so that he could smell the gin on her breath.

As soon as Bill was old enough, he got out of that house and didn’t look back, he was 16 when met Sammy who gave him his first job. Within a year he was trusted enough to take care of problems permanently for Sammy using that old 38 that his father left behind. Now twenty years later he is looking forward to saying goodbye to another life he wanted to escape from. As the door opened, he saw Sal the name he was supposed to cross off, he didn’t know Sal personally, only by reputation. Sal had black hair was medium height with a scar on his right cheek. With the 38 pointed at Sal he gestured with it over to the right signaling for Sal move into the dining room. “Have a seat, I bet you can guess why I’m here” Bill said following Sal’s lead to the dining room table.

“Have a seat” Bill walked over to the windows and closed the curtains. “If you’re going to shoot me in my own house, could I have a list drink first?” Sal gestured to the bar in the corner of the dining room “Sure one drink, but don’t try anything funny. I’ve seen people try funny things and never works out for them”. Bill took off his hat and placed it on the table reaching into his jacket to pull out a pack of Lucky Strikes. Shaking the pack Bill moved it towards his mouth to pull out a loose cigarette and gestured to Sal if he wanted one, if the guy was to have a last drink, he should have a smoke to go with it. “Thanks” Sal pulled a cigarette from the pack, Bill then returned the pack to jacket and pulled a lighter from his left side pocket to light his cigarette. Clicking the lighter to ignite its flame he took two puffs from the cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. Sliding the lighter across the table back to Sal “You can light it yourself” Bill knew better than to hand someone in a life-or-death situation something. Sal lit his cigarette then set the lighter back on the table and slid it back to Bill. When Sal opened the bar there was only one bottle of Beefeater gin sitting on the shelf. “That all you drink?” Bill pointed the pistol at the bottle of Gin “Yeah think its in the blood, it was all my mother used to drink and her father drank the same thing.” Sal opened the bottle and flipped one of the upside-down glasses sitting on the counter over to pour his drink “Seeing as this might be my last drink, I think I’ll make it a double”. “My mother used to drink the same gin, I could never get myself to try the stuff” Sal chuckled and raised the glass to lips “I told myself I wouldn’t either, when I was 13 my mother found out I took some of her cigarettes and she got me square in the face with a bottle.

My father died in the war, and she was never the same after that, I did what I could to take care of her but she’s in a better place now with pop” Sal slipped the glass back to his lips to take another big drink of his gin. “I was almost out you know, had my bagged packed and was ready to leave town. I just wanted a quiet life somewhere warm, a fresh start where nobody knew who I was” Bill had been doing this for 20 years and this was the only time he felt like he was looking in a mirror. He had seen people beg, threaten, but he had never seen what life could have looked like being on the other side. Sal’s life sounded like his if he hadn’t met Sammy as a kid, Sal wanted the same thing that Bill wanted, to leave this town behind.

Bill pulled the chair out from the table and sat down “I been at this a long time Sal” Bill took another puff of his cigarette. “I don’t want to kill you. Could you get out of town tonight and for good?” Sal took the last sip of his drink “I could become a ghost tonight; nobody would ever see or hear from me again” taking a final puff of his cigarette he placed the butt in an ashtray on the table. “My bag is already packed; I was on my way out when you knocked at the door”. “Well then go ahead, get out of here” “Just like that?” Sal said standing up slowly pushing his chair behind him “Just like that” Bill replied. Sal grabbed a black bag that was in the doorway along with his coat “You won’t regret this” Sal said walking past Bill and out the front door.

Bill placed the 38 back in his coat pocket, this would be the first name in 20 years he wouldn’t actually cross off but felt lighter. Like he had been weighed down by chains and finally found the key to his freedom. He thought about his future, leaving all this behind, no more killing, no more bad memories, a new life would be starting today. This job would have made him square with Sammy, but he already had enough money to disappear, no one would even know where to look, he never mentioned Florida to anyone. “Life is gonna be pretty alright” Bill said to himself standing up from the table he made his way to the front door. The night breeze felt refreshing across his face, realizing he forgot his hat he turned around to walk back to the table. His hat felt heavy as he tried to lift it from the table, and it felt like he had been hit in the chest by a train, all the air felt like it left his body. He felt a sharp pain in his back and warm liquid beginning to flow down his leg. An arm reached from behind his neck, and he felt the knife pierce him again and again.

His legs became like jelly and the arm guided his fall back on wall, then he slid to the ground. He looked up and saw that it was Sal standing there with the knife. Sal breathing heavy stood over Bill with the knife, blood dripping from his clenched fist “I had to, I’m sorry, I can’t let Sammy find me”. Bill fighting from breath tried to get a word out, wondering if this was how he made all those people feel after 20 years. Sal could see Bill fighting to say something “What is it, I can’t hear you” Sal knelt in front of Bill and looked into his tired green eyes, his lips were moving, fighting to get a word out. Sal heard a loud bang and by the time his body hit the floor he was already dead. Bill’s vision had started to blur and he noticed the bottle of gin splattered with Sal’s blood. Fighting to pull himself back up he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere. He thought about his mother and as his vision faded, he closed his eyes and finally felt free as he slipped away.