HOME | DD

Description
Nothing but Trouble

A short story by Justin White

I didn’t go to Kelly’s funeral. I know Danny Doyle had men watching the whole goings on, and they wouldn’t hesitate to gun down every man, woman and child there if it meant killing me as well. So here  I am to pay my respects.

I kneel by the small headstone, brushing the freshly fallen snow away. He deserves so much more than this. At least he’s with his Molly now, after all these years.  I know how much he missed her. I haven’t had the heart to go see Maggie and Jack. I don’t even know what to say to them. “Sorry” just seems woefully inadequate. How do you apologize to someone for getting their father murdered? How do ask for forgiveness for taking away someone who means so much? I may figure it out someday, if I live to be a thousand.

I don’t even know what to do now. I’d pray if I still thought I had the right . Right now, I think I’m shit out of luck with Heaven. You were a good man Kelly McBride, I’m only sorry you wasted so much of your life on me. You taught me how to fight, you showed me how to be a man.  You kept me honest and knocked sense into me when I needed it. I miss you, you old bastard.

I catch a whiff of something on the chill breeze, it’s faint but terribly familiar. The scent of Jasmine and Honeysuckle…

“What are you doing here, Delilah?” I don’t even need to look to know she’s made her way quietly behind me.

“Oh you are simply no fun at all! Aren’t you even a teensy bit surprised to see me?”

“I would be if you ever changed your perfume. Aren’t you supposed to be in Paris?” I turn now, standing and stretching. There stands Delilah the siren in all her glory, wrapped head to toe in furs that must have cost a king’s ransom. He hair is different, longer, but still raven black.

“Oh Paris was so terribly dull! I couldn’t stand it a moment longer!” She affects her most absurdly bored face.

“Got into some trouble then? Who’d you rob, or did you kill someone this time?”

“That is none of your business at all!” She moves next to me, looking down on the graves. Her presence is overpowering. It has been since the first night she tried to have me killed. “So Danny killed the old buzzard? I would have thought you’d have settled this all by now! I am disappointed in you.” I turn to leave.

“Will you please get out of here? Doyle is going to skin you alive for making off with his money.” She matches stride for stride as we make our way out of the cemetery.

“Oh please! That incompetent bumbler? If he had anyone good enough to kill me, he wouldn’t have needed o hire me to kill you!”

“Twice.” I add, under my breath.

“Well! You’re acting like I actually tried to kill you!”

“You nearly got me killed at the Sports Arena!” I turn to face her, stopping dead in my tracks. “If it wasn’t for Jack you‘d have damn well succeeded!”

“I told you last time, that was before I knew you! That doesn’t count at all. Besides, all I did was get you into the dressing room. ” She lowers her entirely unnecessary sunglasses and wink one of her emerald green eyes at me. All I can do is stare at her in disbelief. Honestly, I shouldn’t be shocked.

“Will you please just get out of town? For God’s sake you crazy woman, you’re going to end up dead!”

“Awww, you do care after all!” I sigh, and exasperated, defeated sound escaping my lips. “You’re playing the big brave hero again, keeping your little damsel in distress safe from the big, bad gangster.” She actually giggles and I think I’m about to lose it.

“You’re not my damsel, and yes, I’d prefer if you didn’t get yourself killed, as you have managed not to sell me half the time.”

“The first time simply doesn’t count!”

“Why do you do this to me? Don’t you have anyone else to torture?”

“You love it! You know you need me around, who else is going to help you with your Irish Mafia problem?”

“I don’t need help.” She turns and looks behind us, back to the graves we’ve just left.

“You don’t?”

“That was below the belt.” My voice is low and angry. “I’m sick of your games, Delilah. I’m telling you for the last time to go.” For the first time since she’s arrived she looks serious.

“You’re right. I’m sorry; I know you cared about him. Doesn’t this just scream to you that you need help? It was one thing when you had the Candolini Mob watching your back, but now it’s just you. You can’t fight the world alone!”

“Watch me!” I’ve had enough of Delilah for today. She has to be the most infuriating woman in the world. I turn towards the street without a further word. Delilah follows me in silence as we approach the wrought iron gates of the cemetery. They are massive, rust flecked things that swing creakily on hinges that have seen better days. They are terribly imposing, yet hauntingly beautiful. The bare willows that line the walls add a disturbing touch, like the bones of the dead clawing for the sky. Though, in the all too brief summer it has a very different effect. The street is nearly empty, there’s nothing down this road but the old boneyard.

“Is that your car?” Delilah obliterates the blessed silence.

“I didn’t…” I dive and drag her down into the snow as all hell breaks loose around us.! Somewhere near by a Thompson chatters, forty-five calibers slugs chew through the cinderblock wall and rip into the dormant trees. Wood splinters and masonry disintegrates under the incoming storm, I gather Delilah as far under me as I can, keeping my face down low in the snow. The sound of led on metal pounds my ears until I want to scream, thankfully it’s soon replaced by squealing tires and deafening silence. I look down at Delilah; it seems I broke her sunglasses.

“Well, it’s not quite how I imagined getting you on top of me, but I’ll take it!” I can’t help but roll my eyes as I help her up.  She plucks up her broken sunglasses and gives me a ridiculously sad face. “Where they here for you, or me?” I point across the street to the only remaining car. They must have emptied a full drum of ammo into it, the engine is leaking fluid from a half dozen locations. It resembles Swiss cheese more than Ford in it’s present state.

“You, that was definitely about you.” I point to shredded trees and damaged cemetery wall. “This counts as three.”

“It most certainly does not!” The argument continues as we begin the long walk back to town. I’m almost happy to see Delilah, even if she is nothing but trouble.

Description
Nothing but Trouble

A short story by Justin White

I didn’t go to Kelly’s funeral. I know Danny Doyle had men watching the whole goings on, and they wouldn’t hesitate to gun down every man, woman and child there if it meant killing me as well. So here  I am to pay my respects.

I kneel by the small headstone, brushing the freshly fallen snow away. He deserves so much more than this. At least he’s with his Molly now, after all these years.  I know how much he missed her. I haven’t had the heart to go see Maggie and Jack. I don’t even know what to say to them. “Sorry” just seems woefully inadequate. How do you apologize to someone for getting their father murdered? How do ask for forgiveness for taking away someone who means so much? I may figure it out someday, if I live to be a thousand.

I don’t even know what to do now. I’d pray if I still thought I had the right . Right now, I think I’m shit out of luck with Heaven. You were a good man Kelly McBride, I’m only sorry you wasted so much of your life on me. You taught me how to fight, you showed me how to be a man.  You kept me honest and knocked sense into me when I needed it. I miss you, you old bastard.

I catch a whiff of something on the chill breeze, it’s faint but terribly familiar. The scent of Jasmine and Honeysuckle…

“What are you doing here, Delilah?” I don’t even need to look to know she’s made her way quietly behind me.

“Oh you are simply no fun at all! Aren’t you even a teensy bit surprised to see me?”

“I would be if you ever changed your perfume. Aren’t you supposed to be in Paris?” I turn now, standing and stretching. There stands Delilah the siren in all her glory, wrapped head to toe in furs that must have cost a king’s ransom. He hair is different, longer, but still raven black.

“Oh Paris was so terribly dull! I couldn’t stand it a moment longer!” She affects her most absurdly bored face.

“Got into some trouble then? Who’d you rob, or did you kill someone this time?”

“That is none of your business at all!” She moves next to me, looking down on the graves. Her presence is overpowering. It has been since the first night she tried to have me killed. “So Danny killed the old buzzard? I would have thought you’d have settled this all by now! I am disappointed in you.” I turn to leave.

“Will you please get out of here? Doyle is going to skin you alive for making off with his money.” She matches stride for stride as we make our way out of the cemetery.

“Oh please! That incompetent bumbler? If he had anyone good enough to kill me, he wouldn’t have needed o hire me to kill you!”

“Twice.” I add, under my breath.

“Well! You’re acting like I actually tried to kill you!”

“You nearly got me killed at the Sports Arena!” I turn to face her, stopping dead in my tracks. “If it wasn’t for Jack you‘d have damn well succeeded!”

“I told you last time, that was before I knew you! That doesn’t count at all. Besides, all I did was get you into the dressing room. ” She lowers her entirely unnecessary sunglasses and wink one of her emerald green eyes at me. All I can do is stare at her in disbelief. Honestly, I shouldn’t be shocked.

“Will you please just get out of town? For God’s sake you crazy woman, you’re going to end up dead!”

“Awww, you do care after all!” I sigh, and exasperated, defeated sound escaping my lips. “You’re playing the big brave hero again, keeping your little damsel in distress safe from the big, bad gangster.” She actually giggles and I think I’m about to lose it.

“You’re not my damsel, and yes, I’d prefer if you didn’t get yourself killed, as you have managed not to sell me half the time.”

“The first time simply doesn’t count!”

“Why do you do this to me? Don’t you have anyone else to torture?”

“You love it! You know you need me around, who else is going to help you with your Irish Mafia problem?”

“I don’t need help.” She turns and looks behind us, back to the graves we’ve just left.

“You don’t?”

“That was below the belt.” My voice is low and angry. “I’m sick of your games, Delilah. I’m telling you for the last time to go.” For the first time since she’s arrived she looks serious.

“You’re right. I’m sorry; I know you cared about him. Doesn’t this just scream to you that you need help? It was one thing when you had the Candolini Mob watching your back, but now it’s just you. You can’t fight the world alone!”

“Watch me!” I’ve had enough of Delilah for today. She has to be the most infuriating woman in the world. I turn towards the street without a further word. Delilah follows me in silence as we approach the wrought iron gates of the cemetery. They are massive, rust flecked things that swing creakily on hinges that have seen better days. They are terribly imposing, yet hauntingly beautiful. The bare willows that line the walls add a disturbing touch, like the bones of the dead clawing for the sky. Though, in the all too brief summer it has a very different effect. The street is nearly empty, there’s nothing down this road but the old boneyard.

“Is that your car?” Delilah obliterates the blessed silence.

“I didn’t…” I dive and drag her down into the snow as all hell breaks loose around us.! Somewhere near by a Thompson chatters, forty-five calibers slugs chew through the cinderblock wall and rip into the dormant trees. Wood splinters and masonry disintegrates under the incoming storm, I gather Delilah as far under me as I can, keeping my face down low in the snow. The sound of led on metal pounds my ears until I want to scream, thankfully it’s soon replaced by squealing tires and deafening silence. I look down at Delilah; it seems I broke her sunglasses.

“Well, it’s not quite how I imagined getting you on top of me, but I’ll take it!” I can’t help but roll my eyes as I help her up.  She plucks up her broken sunglasses and gives me a ridiculously sad face. “Where they here for you, or me?” I point across the street to the only remaining car. They must have emptied a full drum of ammo into it, the engine is leaking fluid from a half dozen locations. It resembles Swiss cheese more than Ford in it’s present state.

“You, that was definitely about you.” I point to shredded trees and damaged cemetery wall. “This counts as three.”

“It most certainly does not!” The argument continues as we begin the long walk back to town. I’m almost happy to see Delilah, even if she is nothing but trouble.