“Interesting take. And if you don’t believe in happiness, what is there? In your world?”
“Only things that are earned and can be measured. Respect. Influence. And power,” I say. “We do not choose the world we are born into, Bartholomew. In the one I live in, you can either adapt…or perish. The sludge that is left is a bunch of pathetic, sorry deadbeats, trudging aimlessly through the wasteland of sins.”
Doc leans forward, pinning me with his gaze. “If that’s what you truly believe, I never want to venture into your world.”
“A very wise choice.” I nod. “And yet, it wasmyworld that made it possible for you to get back to your way of life. To reclaim your practice.”
His gaze darts away. It’s been years, but it still makes him uncomfortable to be reminded of the truth.
I met Barty while he was on his knees, slumped over the barrel of a rusty old shotgun that he had pressed under his chin. The fool unwittingly picked one of my go-to dump sites to off himself. The last thing I needed was to have some idiot blow his brains out mere feet from another dead body that my men just buried.
I was already running late, annoyed that the meeting location with my informant within the Yakuza had been changed. I didn’t have time to deal with a suicidal idiot, so I decided to knock him out and shove him into the back of my car. I figured I’d get rid of him somewhere on the way. Unfortunately for me, Bartholomew came to while I was weaving in and out of traffic on I-95. Seems he’d become enlightened during his forced nap, and so he started blabbering his gratitude for “saving his life.”
To this day, I still don’t know what possessed me to listen to his sad story. To give a shit when he told me about the relatives of one of his patients who accused him of conducting unauthorized psychological experiments. To bother at all with a guy facing malpractice charges. Or for making the unproven accusations “disappear” the next day. That last one is the most puzzling point about my initial association with the doc.
“Yes. Something I’d rather forget,” he sighs. “Have you ever been tempted by anything outside your dismal reality? Everhad a childhood dream? A wish? Hell, a porn-fueled fantasy? Anything that reminded you that you’re still a flesh and blood man, and not just some juggernaut wielding influence and power? Ever wanted to change that world of yours?”
I lean my head back, my thoughts drifting to the evening of Brio’s party. “Maybe.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“There is a woman. Young. A little naive. Or so I thought. She walked in on me just minutes after I finished Filippa off. Saw me with my dead wife’s body and the gun. I was going to kill the girl, and she knew it. She turned the weapon on me. My own gun, if you can believe it. But, it was in self-defense, so I cannot hold it against her.”
“Always so pragmatic. And?”
“She did not pull the trigger. Silly girl. Left me a cookie instead.”
“A cookie?”
“Yes. After I told her to go.”
Silence blankets us for a moment. Even the clicking of his pen has ceased.
“You let her leave?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Unharmed?”
“Yes. I had Brahms put one of his guys on her.”
“Oh, of course.” The maddening clicking resumes. “To ‘take care’ of her, I assume?”
My phone vibrates, so I pull it out of my pocket and glance at the message. “We need to cut this session short.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes.” I remove my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the constant pressure in my head will ease.
I’ve been dealing with migraines for almost two decades. At first, I could manage them with meds. They were mild. Until they weren’t. Pills. Shots. Acupuncture. Fucking hypnosis. Even cocaine. I tried everything. Went to every specialist and did every single test. All so some moron could tell me there was nothing wrong with me. And another asshole could confirm that brilliant diagnosis. Evidently, there is no apparent reason for my migraines. It’s all simply in my head.
No shit.
“How are the headaches?”
“No change.” I get up and toss an envelope of money onto Barty’s desk. “Thanks for the chat.”
As I head for the door, images of defiant amber eyes swirl through my mind. Hounding me as they have for days. Weeks now.
