“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but if you don’t move your ass off my property, I’m gonna?—”
“What? Blow me away?” Sal throws up his hands. “Some wise guys back in Queens already took care of that.” He points to a red stain on the front of his shirt. “You know how I had that problem of cheating at cards . . . Well, it finally caught up with me.”
“Then how can you be—” I run my hand through my hair, then squeeze my eyes closed, but when I open them, Sal’s still there, and the fucker is grinning at me just like in the garage.
“Sorry again, Nick, but I’m not leaving until I’ve done my job.”
“Someone sent you to off me?” I bolt off the couch, lunge at him, stumble, and regain my balance. Shit, I went right through the fucker.
“You can’t hurt me anymore.” His shoulders shrug. “No one can.”
“I know this isn’t really happening, but I’ll bite. What thefuck do you want?”
“You see, right there, you’re always so hyper, so pent-up, always expecting the worst.”
“Yeah, it’s called fuckin’ life.” Great. Now I’m arguing with a ghost. And not even a ghost I respect.
“And that’s what I’m here to talk about. Your life.”
“You’re gonna tell me about my life.” I glance down at the bottle of bourbon. Starting the new year, no more booze.
“No, my job is just to warn you and get you ready for the other ghosts who will be visiting you tonight.”
“Yeah, right, and how did you get this job?”
“That’s a very interesting question. Seems my eternal end came at the exact time the higher powers noticed you acting like an ass. Basically, not getting into the spirit of Christmas.”
My brain flits to both Cheryl and Samson calling me Scrooge.
“I get it. I’m having some kind of wonky dream, and all the bullshit of the last few days is coming out in my subconscious.”
Sal tilts his floating head. “Not exactly, but here’s the thing. I got this job as a last-ditch effort to save my own miserable soul, and also to warn you.” He points to the red stain again. “If you don’t wanna end up dying alone, with a bullet in your gut, you better make some changes.”
Sal’s image wavers.
“Wait, don’t go, tell me more.”
“Three more ghosts will visit you tonight, and I hope you’re nicer to them, but either way, they’ll show you your past, present and future.”
Sal’s image fades as a gust of wind blows over the patio.
I stumble to the couch. Okay, that was just a dream. A bad fuckin’ dream. It wasn’t real. Like Sal would be a ghost coming to warn me about other ghosts. Shit!
What the hell do I need withanybody telling me what to do? Telling me I’m gonna die alone. Telling me I’m not in the holiday spirit.
Cheryl should be happy I work all the time. How the hell else could we pay for all the fuckin’ decorations she bought? Instead of ragging on me all the time about working, she should be happy I make money and want to hold on to it.
Without money, we’d be doing without and living in a shit-hole like where we grew up. Without money, we’d have nothing. I gaze out over the pool and the manicured grass and patio. Yeah, she should appreciate what money has bought us, and tomorrow I’m gonna tell her. Make her see I’m right to work all the time.
I draw in some cleansing breaths and lay my head against the cushions. All I need is some sleep. I’ll close my eyes, and in the morning, I’ll feel much better.
12
NICK
I shiver myself awake, gasping in the same heavy, damp air. A chill covers me, and I can’t stop shivering.
“Hey, fucker, wake up, I ain’t got all night.”
