Die Tryin' (2 page)

Then Charlie spoke again.
‘Marco’s back,’
he said.

Suddenly everything went black around Tony for a few moments as if he had slipped into unconsciousness. When he began blinking again, reality returned. But that reality brought with it a numbness that was suddenly developing on his left cheek and he wondered what it was, oblivious to the fact that he had just slapped himself hard without even realising; his subconscious making sure he wasn’t dreaming and this was real. But when Charlie’s voice carried on down the line, he definitely knew it was.

‘He gave me your number,’
he continued.
‘And he told me to tell you… told me to tell you… that you can’t run. You can’t run, Tone. He said… he said… he’ll find you. No matter where you go, he’ll find you. You can’t hide. You can’t… run…’

Now the whole of Tony was numb and it wasn’t the coke that was doing it, it was the ghost-like voice floating through the telephone receiver and into his ear. He felt like he was dreaming, but knew he wasn’t. He was hearing the words, but they weren’t registering. He didn’t want to hear them. But, deep down, he knew that he would be hearing them some day.

And that day had just arrived.

‘Are you still there, Tone?’
Charlie asked.

The words snapped Tony back into life. He went to say yes, but nothing came out because his mouth was so dry. He leant down and picked up the almost empty bottle of whisky from the bed, accidentally knocking Lucky on the thigh with it. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. He wedged the receiver between his ear and shoulder while he unscrewed the cap and downed what was left in the bottle, swishing it round his mouth first. It tasted rancid. Now tasted like what it was—a fucking horrible, nasty brew. He winced.

‘Tony?’

‘Yeah, Charlie,’ he replied, now his mouth wasn’t so dry. ‘I’m still here. I heard what you said.
He’s
back. And he’s found me.’ He nodded his head. ‘I knew he would…’

‘What are you gonna do, Tone?’

‘What
can
I do, Charlie? You know what it means.’ Tony sounded mournful, even in his own ears.

There was a brief pause. Then:
‘Yeah. Yeah, I do, Tone.’

Tony took in a deep breath and just stared at the girls on the bed. They were nothing; just a couple of
putanes
he picked up off the streets. ‘There
is
nothing we can do is there?’ Tony asked, now noticing how the phone was trembling, then realising that his hand was full on shaking.

‘No, Tone. Nothing. What’s done is done.’

Tony closed his eyes and nodded in the darkness. ‘You know, Charlie, I wish more than anything I could turn the clock back and change what happened, do it all differently. Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and I wouldn’t be out here, sleeping with endless amounts of
putanes
, wouldn’t have these fucking moobs neither…’

‘I know, Tone. I know…’

Tony shook his head. He tightened his grip on the phone, took in a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. ‘Tell Maria I love her,’ he said into the receiver before instantly placing it back down in its cradle. A few seconds later and it began to ring again. Tony immediately ripped its cable out of the wall, shutting it off for good.

He turned away and grabbed his head, a million negative thoughts racing through his mind.
Marco’s back… Marco’s back… You can’t run…
He stared outside at the balcony again. It looked so inviting outside—the world; the sky. The room he was in was now dark and claustrophobic in comparison; a prison cell. He wanted fresh air. He marched to the window on jelly-like legs.

He pulled open the mosquito screen and stepped barefoot onto the hot concrete balcony. The warm air outside smothered his skin like he had just stepped into a furnace, Bangkok buzzing below and around him. A few hours ago, he would have hated that feeling, now it was like a relief. The darkness was behind him and now he was in the light. Stars burned brightly in the sky like a sequined velvet blanket. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of hot, city air. When he opened them, his stare locked onto a gecko that scampered across the wall ahead of him and disappeared back down the other side.

Tony followed it.

He hoisted himself up onto the balcony wall and looked down. Twenty floors of apartment greeted him. The road below seemed a million miles away, like another world, people that resembled Lego men walking along it. He sighed and glanced down to see his gold
stavro
lying on his chest. He grabbed it and angrily ripped it from his neck, snapping the chain it hung on in half.
Fat lot of fucking good this thing’s done me…

He threw it up and wide into the night air, and it disappeared in the distance with a final glint.

And then Charlie’s ghost-like voice whispered in his mind:
Marco’s back…
.

And there’s nothing we can do.

He looked up to the sky and began shaking his head.
Jesus, I don’t wanna end up like Taki. Don’t want that shit to happen to me. God, I don’t want it to happen to me. I’m fucking sorry for what I done, I’m fucking sorry! I just don’t want it to happen to me, don’t want it to happen—

Tony fell forward.

His body left the balcony, but his mind was somewhere in the sky. An exhilarating rush flowed through him as he plummeted, and suddenly it snapped in his mind that there was no turning back. This was the end. It was finally all over.

So, say goodnight to the bad guy…

And Tony Savva slammed head first into the concrete.

Nick Theodorou sat down to watch the episode of
24
he’d Sky-plussed the night before when the doorbell rang. He looked to the ceiling and growled.
Motherfucking Jehovah’s Witnesses again.
His mind growled like an angry dog.
Gonna sort ’em out one day…

He paused his HD box and made his way to the door, gearing himself up for a verbal assault on the religious nuts. He swung the door open ready to let rip, but found his irritation was usurped by a moment of shock and surprise as if he had just been happy slapped, because instead of squaring up to fanatics with Watchtower pamphlets, he was staring at a face that he hadn’t seen for a good year or so. Someone from the past.

‘Charlie!’
he announced in a surprised tone.

Charlie lowered his bloodshot eyes and gave a solemn nod. ‘Niko,’ he replied. ‘Can I come in?’

Nick glanced past him and scanned the pavement beyond. There wasn’t a soul in sight, and for some reason that fact made his skin crawl. ‘Yeah. Come in,’ he replied, widening the door.

Charlie, head bowed, walked into Nick’s house and then turned to face him.

Nick shut the door. ‘Thought you were Jehovah’s Witness,’ he told Charlie.

‘Nah, they’re on their way,’ Charlie replied, deadpan. ‘Is it all right to talk?’ he then asked, his eyes anxiously darting left and right.

‘She’s gone to Mothercare with Nicholas,’ Nick answered. ‘She’ll be back soon though.’

‘It’ll only take a minute, Nick. I’ve got something important to tell you,’ Charlie said.

Nick took in a deep breath and was now nodding his own head. ‘Go in and sit down,’ he said and ushered him into the front room. ‘You… wanna drink?’

‘No thanks.’

Nick sat down on the sofa and picked up the HD remote. ‘Was about to watch
24,’
he stated. ‘You watch it?’

Charlie’s mouth turned downwards and he shook his head. ‘Never heard of it. What is it?’

‘Never mind,’ Nick replied and pushed the off button, turning his plasma screen black. Charlie stood over him, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his tight jeans.

Nick looked him up and down. ‘You look…
good,’
he said to him. ‘Healthy. Fuller.’

Charlie did that nodding thing again, his lower jaw jutting out like a piranha’s.

‘Take a seat,’ Nick urged, feeling slightly unnerved by Charlie’s general weirdness; it had been a long time and he would need to get used to it again.

‘No. I’ll stand. I wanna stand.’

‘Okay.’
Nick took in a deep breath and looked him in the eye. ‘So. What is it you want, Charlie?’ he asked flat out, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. Deep down, he had already guessed what this unexpected visit was about, but it could be something else, you just never knew with Charlie.

‘Marco’s back,’ Charlie replied after a brief pause.

Nick closed his eyes; he dropped his head down in disappointment as if he had just been one number away from winning the lottery. He then rubbed his eyes with one hand for a few seconds, digesting what he’d just heard.

When he was done, he looked up at Charlie with squinted eyes. ‘Where have you seen him?’ he asked in a thin voice that had had all the confidence kicked out of it. In his own ears, it sounded like he was scared. Scared like a kid left in the dark.

‘The usual places—in the park; at the bus stop,’ Charlie replied, the expression on his face remaining neutral. ‘He left a message on my phone. Wanna see it?’

Nick nodded. ‘Go on then.’

Charlie pulled out his hand from his pocket. His phone was clutched in it; a battered old Nokia. His head twitched randomly again as he spent a second or two pushing buttons, the small beeps amplified in the otherwise quiet room. When he got the message up, he handed the phone to Nick. Nick rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen. It said:

SpEAk No EvIL

And that was all.

Nick let out a regretful sigh and handed the phone back. ‘You sure it’s him?’ he asked.

‘No question, Nick.’

‘That number could be anyone. You tried calling it?’

‘Just keep getting voicemail.’ Charlie stuffed the phone back in the pocket of his jeans and kept his hand in there with it. ‘Look,
re
. I know we’ve had our ups and downs, and I know you don’t believe in what I can do. But you gotta believe me in what I say…’

Nick clenched his teeth together and looked away. ‘All I know, Charlie, is that every time you say ‘Marco’s back’ someone dies—Nick Black. Tony. Fucking threw himself off a twentieth floor balcony, and Taki… well, the less said about Taki the better…’

Charlie gave Nick a grave stare as he spoke.

‘Even Snoop died…’ Nick added glumly.

Charlie frowned in disappointment.
‘Snoop died?’

Nick nodded, a blank expression on his face. ‘Liver failure.’

Silence then took over; Charlie broke it. ‘And now it’s only me and you…’ he said sombrely; depressingly.

Nick sighed again, placed a hand over his mouth, and looked up at Charlie, meeting his stare. Charlie’s eyes were dark; tired. And there was fear inside them. Fear because Marco shit him up like no one’s business. The very mention of that name probably made his balls shrivel up into hazelnuts.

Nick looked from Charlie to his 46-inch plasma TV, where his own reflection stared back at him. Yeah, Charlie was right. It was down to two. Started as six if you included Taki, but had now been whittled down to two. You and me. Charlie and Nick. Nick and Charlie. Who was gonna be last man standing? Who was gonna die next?

‘Is there anything we can do?’ he asked the blank TV, but aimed his question at Charlie. ‘Anything?’

Charlie looked down at the floor and shook his head. ‘No. There’s nothing we can do. Marco wants his pound of flesh,
re
. And it’s our fault.
All of it…
The jewels were cursed.’

Nick tutted. ‘Don’t start that
skata
again,
re
Charlie! Fucking Gods and religions and superstitious voodoo bullshit. I’ve heard enough of it for one lifetime, believe me.’

‘How else do you explain it then?’ Charlie countered, his eyes wide. ‘Hmm? Since that day our lives have been fucked!’

Nick looked away and silence ensued again.

Charlie broke it once more. ‘Still haven’t cashed mine in, you know?’ he said, rubbing his eyes.

Nick glanced up at him. ‘Why not?’

‘I told you: they’re cursed.’

‘Here we go again…’

‘Yeah, here I fucking go! You got no idea! You think you can hide behind your big house, your leather chairs and your flash fucking telly? I mean why do you need that thing so fucking big anyway?’ Nick glanced back at his plasma and then shrugged in response. ‘It’s all cursed,
re,’
Charlie continued. ‘Every brick. Every appliance, every chair, table and fucking curtain! You think they’re gonna save you? Marco’s back in town,
re
, and it’s just you and me now. You know what that means? I’ll lay it out for you, shall I? It means that—’

The front door then opened, shutting Charlie up mid sentence. His head spun round, a confused expression stamped on his face. He had forgotten what Nick told him when he came in.

‘She’s back,’ Nick said quiet but stern. ‘Now stop this fucking talk about Marco and cursed jewels, okay?’

A sudden realisation came onto Charlie’s face and he instantly chilled out. His hands went back into his pockets and he faced the floor. After a few seconds, a woman carrying a baby hidden inside a bear shaped baby grow entered the room. When she saw who was standing in her lounge, she stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes widened.

‘All right, babe?’ Nick said to her, but it was like she didn’t hear. She was too busy staring at the other bloke.

‘All right, Maria?’ Charlie asked before diverting his stare from her straight down to the floor, his shoulders hunching.

‘Charlie,’ Maria replied in a dispassionate tone, her shock suddenly melting into something bordering hostility. The baby in her arms let out a small cry.

‘Charlie was in the area, babe, and he popped in to say hello,’ Nick informed her, attempting to neutralise the situation. ‘He was just leaving.’

Charlie’s head twitched upwards and he stared at Nick, who was giving him a solemn stare in return. ‘Yeah…’ Charlie said. ‘Yeah, yeah. Just passing. Gotta go though.’ He flicked his eyes towards Maria and she shrunk away from him as if afraid she could catch something if she got too close. She then cleared the way for him to leave.

Charlie did that head-nodding thing again and looked down at Nick. ‘Nice to see you both,’ he said to him.