Canary in the Coal Mine by Charles Salzberg

Author:Charles Salzberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

The Prodigal Asshole Reappears

It doesn’t take much to wake me. The slightest sound, like a neighbor’s door closing, can jolt me awake. This time, it’s the vibration my cellphone makes on the coffee table in front of the couch. It’s attached to the cord attached to a wall socket to recharge the battery, and I watch as the vibration causes it to move closer to me and the edge of the table, like a snake on a leash.

I catch it only inches from the edge, just before it’s about to take a nose-dive off the table. Before I pick up the call, I check the time. It’s a little after four p.m., which means I’ve managed to log a couple hours sleep. I can’t say I feel refreshed, but there is a certain joy knowing that occasionally I actually can fall asleep. When I can’t, when I’m in the middle of a sleepless streak, I feel like I’ll never sleep again. Even those couple hours give me hope of someday getting a regular night’s sleep. But my next thought is back in the real world. Dammit, who the fuck is bothering me?

The number that pops up is unfamiliar.

I drag my finger across the screen and, my voice still husky from sleep, manages, “Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence. I’m ready to hang up on another fucking annoying robo-call.

Then.

“Pete? Is this you?”

I swing my legs over the side of the couch and sit up straight. I recognize the voice. It’s Travis.

“Where the hell are you, Travis?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“All right. Skip it. You got my messages, right?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why do you think I’m calling you? What’s up?” he asks, as if he’s talking to a friend who’s just making an average how the hell are you? phone call.

“Do you have any idea how much shit you’ve got me into?” I say, raising my voice in hopes he’ll take this more seriously.

“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Is this guy for real? Is he playing with a full deck? I swear, if he was in the room with me, counting or no counting, I’d be taking a swing at him.

“The guys you’re playing footsie with, you asshole. The fucking mob. And not just any fucking mob, the fucking Albanians. Do you have any idea what they do to guys like you? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Hey! I don’t like the way you’re talking to me. Maybe I should hang up.”

If I could punch this asshole through the phone, I would. If we weren’t miles apart, I’d be taking him apart piece by piece.

Just as I’m about to scream something into the phone, I realize if I’m going to get anywhere with this guy, I have to moderate my tone and try to eliminate any hint of anger from my voice. I keep reminding myself that this guy is a wannabe actor. He lives in a fantasy world. He probably doesn’t have any idea how serious this is, despite the fact that a stiff was found in his bed.

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