Page 5
Story: Saint of the Shadows
4
Daddy Issues
T he sun lowered in the evening sky. Clad in hoodie and leggings, Marisol ran through the city. But not in a straight line. If there was a retaining wall to climb or a concrete post to jump over, she took that path.
She hopped off the curb. The No Parking sign rang as she swung around it. She landed in a lot outside her dad’s gym. Her mom always had an opinion about how often she worked out, claiming the free-running and boxing made her look ponchado. That insult was of the exaggerated, devastating variety that only mothers like hers could spout. Marisol was athletic, not muscular, and begrudgingly had to wear industrial strength Spandex to hold back her boobs.
While entering, she finished stretching her triceps behind her head. After she unzipped her hoodie, she placed it on a hook over her duffle bag. From her bag, she pulled out some kickboxing gloves and a roll of gauze. Wrapped and strapped, she moved her way to a freestanding punching bag. She began a series of slow, alternating jabs to get the blood pumping into her arms.
The Westside Boxing Club was a converted warehouse with a tin roof and walls. A few boxing bags, some patched with duct tape, hung from the scaffolding in the ceiling, and a handful of freestanding bags circled the single ring in the gym. Though her apparent mission was a good workout, she made it routine to drop in and see how Dad was doing. After he sank his measly retirement into the place, she needed to double-check if the business made out the way he claimed.
As she switched her punch to alternating cross-hooks, she observed her dad in the ring with mitts on his hands, coaching a tall heavyweight boxer. The boxer already had a stream of sweat trailing down his tank top. When he ducked under Dad’s rudimentary swing, she recognized the boxer instantly. Detective Tobias Quinlan. She pretended not to check out his glistening shoulder muscles, but she slowed down her punching pace so she could pay more attention to the action. Tobias waved to her, and she flickered a quick smile to play it cool.
Tobias wiggled his hand out of a glove, shook Dad’s hand, and crawled out of the ring. Marisol showed off with a jab and cross hook combination.
“I was hoping to see you here,” Tobias said .
She stifled a squee, striking the bag with a hinge kick. “Looks like my dad’s working you up a sweat.”
“This?” He gestured to the sweat soaking his shirt. “All nerves. I’m an Eastsider on the Westside learning how to punch from the dad of the woman I’m interested in.”
Her laugh came out so loud that it practically shook the rafters. She forgot she was in a gym—Dad’s gym. An embarrassment confirmed by the face Dad made at her. The face that said, “Who is this guy?”
“We should move over to the hanging bag. See if you can actually throw a punch,” Tobias said.
“Surprised to see you moving so spryly after you limped out of the emergency room.” Marisol pushed the bag to have momentum to work with. She shuffled in place, gearing up for a big swing.
“I had a good nurse.”
She rolled her eyes before she showed off with another combination topped with a kick. The bag swung and twirled. Tobias steadied it. “Remind me to never make you mad.” He held it against his rippling shoulder and motioned for her to attack.
Between punches and kicks, she asked, “Why are you really here?”
Tobias traded places with her. She held the bag still while he punched. “I like boxing. Gets all life’s shit out of the system.”
“A lot of that is going around. What’s yours? ”
Every few words he spoke, the force of his punches pushed his voice louder. “I’m tired of a sixty percent clearance rate putting me near the top of my department.” Tobias stood up and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Every year the city gets 300 murders, and a little over half of them get solved. It’s a little disheartening when that’s the best we can do.”
“I get that. The hospital board is more invested in creating a beautiful brochure to hand out at the latest conference. It’s like ever since Grandaddy Varian died, so did the last brain cell of the Varian family. If Vincent just stepped down from his tower…”
“They wouldn’t be bosses without being pains in our asses.”
“It makes those guys who dress up to fight crime make sense. No one to answer to, just take control and put the law in your own hands.” She returned to punching the bag.
“I wouldn’t be much of a cop if I condoned vigilantes running the streets in their pjs, but that isn’t what’s bugging me right now.”
“What’s bugging you?”
“I didn’t get your number. Wouldn’t want you to think that my interest in you is strictly business.” He smirked, revealing the handsome signs of age around his eyes.
She hoped her workout glow covered up the flattered blush on her cheeks. “That’s a little fast. Sure you don’t want to leave me hanging for a bit? ”
“I’m old-fashioned. When I like someone, I do something about it.”
Though he had a carbon-dated flirting style, he wasn’t exactly old. Tobias was in decent enough shape to not wear a brace over any of his joints. Was he a fit forty or foolishly hate himself tomorrow because his knees hurt forty? Marisol, no longer punching, asked, “Are you trying to ask me out, old man?”
“Something like that, kid.”
Bold and matched her blow for blow? He had to be kidding. “In front of my dad?” Marisol brushed away sweat from her face with her forearm.
“I was thinking when you’re done working up a sweat, we could grab a couple of refreshments, and I’d ask you then.” He leaned against the bag again and winked.
In his eyes, she saw a hint of blue, a reminder of the Patron Saint. And there was that rush of dopamine again. She shifted her weight from side to side and resumed her jabs and hooks. “Your eyes. They change color. What’s up with that?”
“Sectoral heterochromia. They’re brown and blue.”
“That’s a pair of big words coming from a cop,” Marisol said.
“I’m a dumb guy that sometimes stumbles into some smart things. ”
“I’m a smart gal who lets quite a few dumb things into my life.”
“Then we’ll get along well.”
As he grunted and sweated, Marisol shivered from the sudden curiosity of the other noises he made when he was worked up. Particularly, what did she need to do to get him to “Hm” in that growling deep voice he put on?
After the workout, Tobias leaned against his green and rusted sedan, draining the last of the contents of an orange sports drink. “I know a food cart eight blocks from here that makes the best cheesesteaks. Whaddya say? You. Me. A couple of beers. Sit along the Riverwalk and watch the lights?”
Marisol twisted the cap on and off her bottle. “You think I’d like street food and beer on a date?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you. I think if I took you someplace where we can’t pronounce half the menu, you’d label me a try-hard dork. I might get a second date if you felt sorry for me. But you, you like things to be real, and I’d really like to take you out for some street food and beers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Marisol nodded as her curiosity from earlier shimmered below her belly. “I would. When?”
“How about right now?”
Marisol’s face scrunched up. In a couple more hours, her shift would start. Maybe she’d raincheck the beers and dig into the cheesesteak, but she was soaked in sweat and stunk. She wanted a chance to prove that she could be a knockout outside the ring. Now? It would be all too real. “Maybe some other time—”
“Saturday?”
A night of formal wear and Annie formed into a small disappointment that tugged a tiny fiber of muscle in her chest. “I’m going to Varians’ fundraising ball with my bestie.”
“I’ll tell you what, I got tickets to Rooks’ semi-finals, the Legacy Game, next week.”
Before she could muster an answer, a black Escalade drove into the gym’s parking lot. Four men exited the vehicle. Three men surrounded one, and none came to work out. Marisol recognized the man in the middle with his bald head and sparse mustache above his crookedly molded lips as Izzy, leader of the Westside Shadows. He was the one whose hands stayed clean while Caz served multiple sentences. They entered Dad’s gym.
“That’s Izzy.” Tobias crossed his arms and clenched his jaw.
More muscles in her body threatened to snap. “I know.”
“We got some detail monitoring him. Not the greatest guy. But we can’t seem to nab him. These kings are never put in check.”
There was one thing Izzy’s presence meant: Another Novotny man got himself into something he’d have a hell of a time getting out of. “I gotta go.” Marisol pulled her hoodie closer around herself.
“I could come with you. Make sure they don’t cause any trouble.”
“My family is trouble.” Tobias’s clueless face prompted her to continue, “Casimir’s doing multiples up at the Hill for the Shadows.”
“The walking scowl, Caz.”
Marisol grew heavy with shame. “My brother.” She recognized the shock on Tobias’s face. Too much work. “You should go. If they know I’m hanging out with a cop, I don’t know what they’ll do.”
“We all got black sheep,” Tobias said.
Marisol heard him but didn’t listen. She stormed back toward the gym. In the entrance, she crossed her arms over her chest and ground her teeth together.
The Westside Shadows hadn’t stayed long. Marisol watched as Izzy shook Dad’s hand. Although she stepped to the side to not impede them, the men moved around her before they exited, and Izzy made a kissy face. She squeezed herself tighter and refused to look him in the eye. The heat prickling her skin wasn’t her recent cardio, but her blood reaching 212 degrees Fahrenheit. She held her tongue until the Shadows loaded into the Escalade. She turned and stared at Dad, her gaze throwing knives at him .
He put his hands on his hips, his dark eyes shifting and belying his confrontational stance. “What, Mare?”
“What were they doing here?”
“It’s nothing.” Dad grabbed a bottle of cleaner dangling out of a bucket set on the boxing ring. He sprayed down a standing bag and wiped it.
Marisol would not let him off so easily. She followed him at his every move. “Caz is serving multiple life sentences for them, and it’s nothing?”
“Okay, some partners pulled out of the gym, and I’m short on some bills this month. After Caz took the fall for them, Izzy always said he’d look out for us.” Dad threw his cleaning rag to the floor.
“How much?”
“Don’t worry about it!”
“How much?”
“A couple grand.”
She had a little over half of that in her savings. “Two grand? We don’t need them!”
“Easy for you to say, Mare. Your life didn’t fall out from under you!” Dad ran his chubby fingers through his thinning hair.
“Did you even think to ask if I could help you out?”
“I couldn’t do that. I’m not asking my daughter for money. ”
“But getting the Westside Shadows hooked more into our lives seemed like a good idea? Are you even hearing yourself?”
“I figured I could use Caz for leverage. Get something out of this miserable muck we’re in.” Dad leaned against the ring. He held his face in his hands. “Just don’t tell your mom.”
“I won’t. I don’t want another murderer in the family.” Marisol left the gym, disappointed yet not surprised to find an empty parking lot. No Tobias. Bad with the good put her life back into that dour balance she always expected. She pulled her hood up and strapped her gym bag tightly across her chest.
She jogged, slipping around crowds with a jump or a climb. At the nearest ATM, she reached her withdrawal limit. She stuffed the wad of cash in her hoodie pocket and boarded a bus that took her deeper into the west side of Shadowhaven. Buildings with hand-painted signs and bars in the window soon became decaying brick mounds covered in graffiti. She hopped off the bus and continued running before reaching a deli.
Dingy yellow, fluorescent lights cast a jaundiced pall over the deli’s worn vinyl booths and peeling pictures of sandwiches. Marisol walked past the counter. A few people recognized her. “Yo Mare!” But she didn’t even acknowledge them as she pushed her way past an Employee’s Only door.
In the back room, Izzy sat at a table with the men who flanked him at the gym. He ate a torta that left globs of food in the corners of his mouth. One of the bigger men stopped Marisol before she came closer. He flashed the gun in his waistband, a warning to not try anything. It didn’t scare her like they intended. A gun was just a fact, like a patient’s gushing wound. Freaking out about it did nothing.
“She’s cool,” Izzy said.
Marisol stepped up to the table and slammed down a wad of cash. One thousand dollars.
“What’s up, Mare?” Izzy asked, his voice garbled with bits of sandwich.
“That’s part one. I’ll have more for you tomorrow.” She’d squeeze part two from a payday loan. “Don’t come near my family again.”
“Pete came to me.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and eased back in his chair.
Marisol leaned on the table, hovering over Izzy. “Let’s operate like the Novotny men are too stupid to make any decisions. As far as you’re concerned, I’m my dad’s power of attorney. If he does it again, you see me first. I don’t want anyone in my family in your pocket anymore.”
Izzy shook his head. “Girl, you act like you’re above it, but you’re in this. You think your ass got out of this game because you got grit?” Izzy stared at her like a shark circling chum. She said nothing and kept her gaze latched onto Izzy’s. “Nah. People left you alone because Caz earned our respect. Caz got you this life, whether you like it or not. And someday, you’ll be glad you’re in my pocket. ”
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to shout or throw a punch. Her arm muscle spasmed, and she swallowed while deciding.
But fate made the decision. One of the guard’s cell phones lit up. “Izzy, Teeth Man is at the car shop.”
“Teeth Man?” Izzy wrinkled his nose.
Marisol sighed and headed out of the deli. In the corner of her eye, she caught Izzy and his men unloading a safe with guns.
Outside, the air felt thick. She smelled the change in the atmosphere as flashes of lightning streaked the sky. A storm had arrived, and she needed to head home before work. She ran. Past the graffiti. Past the barred windows. Past the bus stops. Anger fueled her speed. Her feet hit the pavement with power, propelling her faster and farther. Izzy nagged her. She wanted to be free of his grasp. His power. His arrogance. His money. As she ran, she swore she heard angel wings flying above her. What would the Patron Saint do?
At her apartment, she took out Tobias’s business card and called the number while she toyed with the pendant on her necklace. “Detective Quinlan? I think something big is about to go down.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5 (Reading here)
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37