All That Matters (20 page)

“There you are,” Buster called out. “It's looking good, isn't it?”

“Really good,” Train replied. “What's going on?” He'd been on the way to a job when Buster called and told him to stop by as soon as he could.

“I need you to ride with me today.” Buster took off the tool belt around his waist. “We're meeting Gagliardi in an hour.”

“Why?” Train hadn't liked Gagliardi; he was a slimy fucker, too slick to be trusted. Nightshade had refused to let him import illegal pussy through the Detroit port. They'd anticipated a war, but instead he'd offered them a cut to show his respect and gave a promise to do his importing elsewhere. So far, they'd stayed out of each other's way. He was good with that.

“He didn't get specific, he just said that it was urgent. We'll go, hear him out. See what it is.”

“Alright,” Train agreed. “I'm ready when you are.”

“There's one more thing we need to talk about.” Buster told him. “With Info and Cane gone, we're going to need to pull in a couple more prospects.”

“I figured as much. Pretty slim pickings if you ask me.”

“Agreed, which is why we're going to bring up patching in Manuel, Einstein and Caesar.” Buster held up his hand. “I know that you don't like it, but I'm asking you to vote my way on this. They're good men. We can trust them.”

“They're more a gang than a club.” Train spoke carefully. With Buster committed to bringing them in, he didn't think that there was much he could say to change his mind. “Hard to shake that mentality.”

“And they want a change,” Buster explained. “We give give them that, and they can give us three more men. Men who've already been tested in the fire with us. Trust me, this is going to be a good thing for Nightshade.”

“I'll think about it.” Train was bothered by the way that Buster talked as if it were a done deal. More and more lately, he was feeling out of the loop when it came to the club. It didn't sit right with him. Part of it was his fault; he spent more and more time with Meg and the boy, less with his brothers. They were at fault, too. They'd stopped coming by, said that they wanted to give him time to get settled. Maybe having this place would lessen the feeling of distance, or it might deepen it. Fuck.

“That's all I can ask.” Buster patted him on the back. “Let's go and meet this fat fuck.”

The ride gave Train time to think but not enough time. His head was getting loud, thoughts were hard to push down. Nightshade was the only reason he was still breathing, he knew it. Left to his own devices, he'd have drunk himself to death or gotten killed. By the time they arrived at Gagliardi's place, he'd managed to shove everything down. It was time to work.

Gagliardi's goons led them up to his office. He was behind the desk with a dozen newspapers spread out in front of him. He looked up and motioned them in. “Thanks for being on time.”

“You said it was urgent, what's going on?” Buster wasted no time on pleasantries.

“Right to the point. I like that. One of your men came by here two days ago, took me up on my offer of any girl he wanted. He took it a bit too literally. She should have been back yesterday morning. I gave him a little leeway but still, no sign of him, and he's not answering the phone.” Gagliardi tapped fingers the size of sausages against the newspapers.

“Who?” Train asked, even though he had a feeling he already knew.

“Info.”

“He's not one one us,” Buster spoke up. “Hasn't been for a couple of weeks. Him or Cane.” Gagliardi turned a shade of red that shouldn't have been possible.

“How was I supposed to know that? Jesus Christ.” The newspapers went flying as Gagliardi began to throw a fit worthy of any screaming toddler Train had ever seen. “Norma Rae is one of my best sellers. She's eighteen but looks sixteen, got these little peach-shaped tits and a cunt so tight it'll make you cry no matter how many cocks she'd had in her. You've got to make this right.”

“It's not on us. You made the choice to let her go.” Buster took several steps closer to the desk, towered over the man. “Now, if we happen to run across her, we'll be sure to let you know.”

“That's not good enough.” Gagliardi shot to his feet. “You don't want me as an enemy.”

“You don't want to threaten me or us,” Buster's voice was cold. “You won't like the results.”

“I'm not being unreasonable. He misrepresented himself, or is it okay for people to go around pretending to be one of you?” Gagliardi's words hit a nerve with Buster. Train saw it and in that moment knew they were going to end up going after Info. Just fucking great. They should have killed the short-eyed son of a bitch when they had a chance.

“No, it's not okay. If we come across him, we'll handle him. I'm not making you any promises about getting the girl back to you.”

“Alright, fine. See, look at us. We're working together, compromising.” Gagliardi clapped his hands together. “We should celebrate with lunch.”
“Maybe next time,” Buster answered. “We've got somewhere that we need to be.”

Train followed Buster out, didn't say a word until they were back to the bikes. “We should have just killed him.”

Buster laughed without any humor. “I'm inclined to believe that you might be right about that. Nothing we can do now but fix our mistake. Run by the place he used to stay, see if he's there, by some chance.”

“I doubt he's that stupid, but I'll check. You want me to meet you back at the office?” Train offered.

“Yeah, that'd be good. I'll head back, let the others know what's going on.”

Train watched Buster ride off before he got on his own bike. Some time to himself was probably the best thing for everyone. He'd see if Info was stupid enough to be back at his old place, check the hotel where Cane had lived. If he found anything, it would be a surprise. His guess was that Info was somewhere grooming the porn star to be a housewife.

Stupid fucker, you couldn't fix a ho.

His first guess was correct; there was no sign of either man at either place. He knocked on some doors, talked to a few neighbors, and they hadn't seen either of them. He left his number, passed out a few twenties with the implication that there was more where that came from if they were to spot Info. Something told Train it wasn't going to be as easy as putting the neighbors to work, but there was always a possibility.

By the time that he arrived back at the clubhouse, he found everyone there. They had obviously been waiting for him, because as soon as he was inside, they were all headed up the stairs for the vote. Train had to admit that it was strange to climb the stairs to the attic. He still wasn't used to the room, even if it was the nicest-looking one they'd had so far.

The sloping walls were pained a pale gray. The single window had frosting over the glass to keep anyone from looking in, as likely as it would be to get a view, but let a lot of light in during the day. The table and chairs were heavy, dark wood pieces, taken from one of the houses they'd gotten at auction. It had been a dining room set in a crumbling Victorian, but now it was theirs. The furniture was his favorite part of the room; he liked that it had a history before them and that maybe it would have one after them.

Everyone sat. Train lit a cigarette and waited for Buster to start. It didn't take long. Since everyone already knew the situation, he didn't go through it again. He got straight to the point. “Info has misrepresented himself as being one of us, and he's back in Detroit. I think that we were pretty clear with him and Cane as to what would happen if he came back. It's not my decision to make alone, so I bring it here to the rest of you. All for wrapping Info up once and for all?”

There was no objection. Train hadn't expected that there would be. Info would die. “What about Cane?We gonna wrap him up, too? He promised they'd go far away. Obviously, that's not the case.” The man had given his word and now a girl was gone.

“We don't know that Cane is even here,” Danny pointed out. “Gagliardi never mentioned him, right? Maybe Info got away from him. We can't make the decision without all the information, no pun intended.”

“If he's here with Info, he knows what he's doing.” Buster spoke bluntly. “If he's not, it still means that he broke the promise he made to us. Are we going to take that lightly? Even if we want to give Cane a pass, can we afford to? Nightshade has eyes on us, not the police but the streets. We've worked hard to prove that we're still in the game. If we start going soft now, we're going to lose some of what we've earned, and then we're going to have another situation like the Wild Cards. So I say, fuck Cane. He backed the wrong horse, and it's time to pay the price.” No one objected. No one asked for a vote. Info and Cane were dead men who just didn't know it.

<#<#<#<#

It was late when he finally got home. Train shut the front door behind him as quietly as he could. Leo had to be sleeping. Meg wasn't downstairs, which was unusual. Normally she'd be watching television or reading. He went into the kitchen to see what she'd made for dinner. There was always a plate in the microwave, but there was no plate tonight. He checked the fridge; there was nothing there either. He took out his phone, checked the screen to see if he'd somehow missed a call from her. He hadn't. In fact, she hadn't called at all. Usually, she called at least once, or he called her.

Train took the stairs two at a time. He passed Leo's room first, so he pushed open the ajar door. A sense of relief rolled over him as he saw the boy right where he should be, asleep in his bed. Maybe Meg had taken him out for dinner after they'd gone to the hospital to see Josh.

The door to their bedroom was closed but not locked. The lights were off, and Meg was just a vague shape on the bed. He shut the door behind him and turned on the lamp on the dresser; the bulb was dim, but it let him see enough to undress. Meg stirred on the bed but didn't wake. With the light he could see there was a bottle of over-the-counter sleep medicine on the nightstand on her side of the bed.

That little bottle told him the visit with Joshua hadn't gone well. If it had, she wouldn't feel the need to drug herself into sleep. “Meg,” he spoke as he stepped towards the bed. “Meg.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, reached out and laid his hand on her back. He had to shake a little to get her to stir.

She jumped. “Shit. You scared me, Train. What time is it?”

“It's late. I just got back. You want to tell me what happened today?” He rubbed his hands over her back.

“What did Leo tell you?”

“Nothing, he's sleeping. It was an educated guess.”

“It was fucking horrible,” she sighed and turned over onto her back. “The doctor warned me. He's been digressing. They said to go ahead with the visit, that it might be good for him. The first few moments were okay. We talked. It was nice.”

“What happened to make it not nice?” Train knew that she'd stall from saying it as much as she could.

“He lost his shit. We were just talking one second and the next second he'd thrown the table. He would have gone for Leo or me, but the orderlies grabbed him. It took two of them. It was that day at the school all over again. I thought that he was getting better, Train. I thought that he could come home, but now, I don't know.”

“It's not your fault.”

“How can it not be? I've essentially raised him for the past five years. I've done everything so that they could grow up normal and happy. Joshua is angry. So angry.” Her shoulders began to shake. She started to cry.

“Come on, don't do that. You did a great job with those boys. Whatever is going on with Joshua, it's not on you, not at all. Some people, they just work differently, but it doesn't matter because that's who they are.” Train hadn't spent as much time with Joshua as he had with Leo, but he'd seen enough to know that he was in the right place now. He needed help and it was good he got it before things got out of hand.

“You're right. I just wish there was more that I could do for him.”

“You're doing the best thing for him, no question. He's getting the best help he can. Regardless of what happens, you did right by him.” Train felt her relax. “So no more beating yourself up about it.”