Thanks, as always, for the reviews. Keep 'em coming!
-------------------
Part 6:
*
He sees her vividly now, like the outline of a cloud against the brightest, deepest shade of blue in the sky. He sees her when the night comes down and he starts to think he might really lose her completely someday. Not just physically, but mentally -- maybe one day, he thinks, he'll start to forget what her favorite sandwich was; her favorite song and movie; even the color of her hair and eyes and how her breath felt when she brushed against his skin accidentally with the whisper of laughter.
He thinks he might start to forget her.
And it brings him to his knees.
*
"You're tellin' me ya didn't see a damn thing? Not one damn thing the whole time?"
"That's what I'm saying."
"You didn't even hear a struggle or gunshot?"
The man shakes his head no once more and Bosco looks down, shaking his head as well, but in amused cynicism, as though he's never really doubted the ignorance of some people.
"Alright, I'm gonna ask you one more time --"
"Look, pal, I don't know what you want me to say --"
Bosco grabs him roughly by the collar, yanks him against the wall, the man's apron flapping in the cold breeze.
"I'm not your pal, your friend, and I sure as hell won't hesitate to make it hurt when you don't tell me exactly what I need to know. Now tell me what the fuck you heard."
His words are crisp, stocatto; rhythmically biting as his words drip with malice.
"A-all right, all right, just don't hurt me, okay? Shit. I mighta heard somethin', mighta saw something."
Bosco slides him further up the wall, enticing him to elaborate further.
"I-I saw this guy get knocked down -- he looked like a cop. Th-then the woman screamed and ran towards him, but these guys came up behind her. Th-they pinned her against the one guy and hit her a few times."
Bosco's hold remained just as tight, but his eyes shut briefly against the images that assaulted him.
"But she was still conscious, so sh-she tried to get away, get to the cop, and they shot her. Oh God, they fuckin' shot her."
The man shakes now -- with fear or guilt, Bosco doesn't know, but his anger flares up again.
"You saw this happen and you didn't report it?! What the hell's wrong with you, you son-of-a-bitch?!"
The man bows his head in Bosco's grip, solemn.
"I'm sorry, " he whispers.
Bosco drops him hard to the ground.
"Shit, shit, you fuckin' bastard! Those fuckin' bastards. You holdin' anything back?"
He shakes his head no, fear readily apparent as his hands tremble.
"All right, did you at least see where they took her?"
"No. B-but they took her away in this black van. I remember there was a 'J' and an '8' on the license plate."
"I'm sorry, " he says again.
"Yeah, you're a real stand-up guy. You better pray she's all right or I'm comin' back here and when I do, you're not walkin' away."
He says it so calmly, with a barely visible hate beneath his eyes, that the man almost loses control of his entire body right there.
*
"You know how long a search like that could take, Bosco?"
"I know, Sully, I know, but -- it's Faith."
Sully's quiet for a moment, letting that statement sink in.
"Yeah. I'll do it for her. Okay, give me some time."
"Thanks, Sul. Listen, don't let Lambert find out."
"I don't know what your problem is with this guy, but if it's that important to you, I'll keep it quiet."
"All right. Catch ya later."
"Bosco? Be careful, all right? You don't know how deep this goes."
"Yeah."
*
"You wanted to see me?"
Bosco asks as he slides into the booth of the darkened bar. He hears the cheap shots of pool balls clinking, an old song on the radio. People puff their poison and it clings to his clothes like casino smoke.
Lambert gestures to the seat as Bosco glides in.
"I know you don't trust me."
"Man, you're good, Lambert. How long it take you to figure that one out?"
"Save it. I wanted to talk to you."
"So talk."
He laughs bitterly.
"You gotta admire some people, " Lambert says as he puffs his cigarette lazily over an amaretto.
"How's that?" Bosco asks as he munches idly on some peanuts in the dish in the center of the table.
"The ones who find someone to love, you know? I mean, you got that, there's not much more you need."
"You always get this deep when you're drunk?"
"I'm not drunk, I've just been doin' some thinkin' is all."
"And?"
"And I think I'm not one of those people. Shit, I wouldn't know love if it came up and bit me on the ass."
He takes another drag, looks at Bosco.
"You got someone to love, Boscorelli?"
He hesitates.
"Yeah."
"She know it?"
"No."
"She feel the same?"
"Haven't gotten that far yet."
He puts the butt out in the overflowing ashtray, crossing his arms over his rumpled clothing.
"Yokas, right? She the great love of your life?"
"Always."
He nods and stands, clapping Bosco on the back.
"Good. When we find her, you best hold her, Boscorelli, hold her tight and don't ever let go."
He leaves with that and Bosco finishes his last piece of food, unsure where this conversation came from, why it started, and how it ended the way it did.
Yeah, he thinks.
I'm gonna hold her like hell.
*
TBC...
-------------------
Part 6:
*
He sees her vividly now, like the outline of a cloud against the brightest, deepest shade of blue in the sky. He sees her when the night comes down and he starts to think he might really lose her completely someday. Not just physically, but mentally -- maybe one day, he thinks, he'll start to forget what her favorite sandwich was; her favorite song and movie; even the color of her hair and eyes and how her breath felt when she brushed against his skin accidentally with the whisper of laughter.
He thinks he might start to forget her.
And it brings him to his knees.
*
"You're tellin' me ya didn't see a damn thing? Not one damn thing the whole time?"
"That's what I'm saying."
"You didn't even hear a struggle or gunshot?"
The man shakes his head no once more and Bosco looks down, shaking his head as well, but in amused cynicism, as though he's never really doubted the ignorance of some people.
"Alright, I'm gonna ask you one more time --"
"Look, pal, I don't know what you want me to say --"
Bosco grabs him roughly by the collar, yanks him against the wall, the man's apron flapping in the cold breeze.
"I'm not your pal, your friend, and I sure as hell won't hesitate to make it hurt when you don't tell me exactly what I need to know. Now tell me what the fuck you heard."
His words are crisp, stocatto; rhythmically biting as his words drip with malice.
"A-all right, all right, just don't hurt me, okay? Shit. I mighta heard somethin', mighta saw something."
Bosco slides him further up the wall, enticing him to elaborate further.
"I-I saw this guy get knocked down -- he looked like a cop. Th-then the woman screamed and ran towards him, but these guys came up behind her. Th-they pinned her against the one guy and hit her a few times."
Bosco's hold remained just as tight, but his eyes shut briefly against the images that assaulted him.
"But she was still conscious, so sh-she tried to get away, get to the cop, and they shot her. Oh God, they fuckin' shot her."
The man shakes now -- with fear or guilt, Bosco doesn't know, but his anger flares up again.
"You saw this happen and you didn't report it?! What the hell's wrong with you, you son-of-a-bitch?!"
The man bows his head in Bosco's grip, solemn.
"I'm sorry, " he whispers.
Bosco drops him hard to the ground.
"Shit, shit, you fuckin' bastard! Those fuckin' bastards. You holdin' anything back?"
He shakes his head no, fear readily apparent as his hands tremble.
"All right, did you at least see where they took her?"
"No. B-but they took her away in this black van. I remember there was a 'J' and an '8' on the license plate."
"I'm sorry, " he says again.
"Yeah, you're a real stand-up guy. You better pray she's all right or I'm comin' back here and when I do, you're not walkin' away."
He says it so calmly, with a barely visible hate beneath his eyes, that the man almost loses control of his entire body right there.
*
"You know how long a search like that could take, Bosco?"
"I know, Sully, I know, but -- it's Faith."
Sully's quiet for a moment, letting that statement sink in.
"Yeah. I'll do it for her. Okay, give me some time."
"Thanks, Sul. Listen, don't let Lambert find out."
"I don't know what your problem is with this guy, but if it's that important to you, I'll keep it quiet."
"All right. Catch ya later."
"Bosco? Be careful, all right? You don't know how deep this goes."
"Yeah."
*
"You wanted to see me?"
Bosco asks as he slides into the booth of the darkened bar. He hears the cheap shots of pool balls clinking, an old song on the radio. People puff their poison and it clings to his clothes like casino smoke.
Lambert gestures to the seat as Bosco glides in.
"I know you don't trust me."
"Man, you're good, Lambert. How long it take you to figure that one out?"
"Save it. I wanted to talk to you."
"So talk."
He laughs bitterly.
"You gotta admire some people, " Lambert says as he puffs his cigarette lazily over an amaretto.
"How's that?" Bosco asks as he munches idly on some peanuts in the dish in the center of the table.
"The ones who find someone to love, you know? I mean, you got that, there's not much more you need."
"You always get this deep when you're drunk?"
"I'm not drunk, I've just been doin' some thinkin' is all."
"And?"
"And I think I'm not one of those people. Shit, I wouldn't know love if it came up and bit me on the ass."
He takes another drag, looks at Bosco.
"You got someone to love, Boscorelli?"
He hesitates.
"Yeah."
"She know it?"
"No."
"She feel the same?"
"Haven't gotten that far yet."
He puts the butt out in the overflowing ashtray, crossing his arms over his rumpled clothing.
"Yokas, right? She the great love of your life?"
"Always."
He nods and stands, clapping Bosco on the back.
"Good. When we find her, you best hold her, Boscorelli, hold her tight and don't ever let go."
He leaves with that and Bosco finishes his last piece of food, unsure where this conversation came from, why it started, and how it ended the way it did.
Yeah, he thinks.
I'm gonna hold her like hell.
*
TBC...