Ballad of a Broken Man

Ballad of a Broken Man

         "It's a goddam mess, Tav."
         Massey crumpled his second cigarette into the ashtray at the edge of the table. Tav noticed that Massey's hand was shaking slightly; his eyes constantly darted between the other occupied tables outside the diner.
         "They found Howell dead this morning. That's three dead, all errand boys like us, in the past two months. It ain't some fucked up set of accidents and you know that s'well as I do. The family's been falling apart for months now, but I think it finally just registered with 'em how colossally fucked everything really is. They're clearing up loose ends, Tav, and we're the loosest of the fuckin' bunch."
         Tav sighed, and took a weak sip from his coffee. He had sat at this diner through many mornings in the past, and had always enjoyed the coffee here. Today, it was bitter and hard to keep down. He set his cup down and pushed it aside.
         "Massey...I know how all this shit looks, alright? But maybe you're just being paranoid. Maybe...fuck, I dunno. All the extra police pressure since January, maybe our boys are just gettin' sloppy. And the cops have to put 'em stone cold because they're too stupid to give 'emselves up once they get caught."
         Massey let out a short, humorless laugh, as he managed to light his third cigarette.
         "Come on, Tav. Be serious with yourself, for Christ sake. The boys know not to fight with cops. An errand boy gets busted, the family'll have 'em bribed out before they even see a cell. At least, that's how it used t'be. I'm tellin' ya, Tav, the family knows they're done for around here. So they're cleaning house and'll probably disa-fucking-pear once they're done. Well, no thank you, sir. I ain't ready to fucking sleep yet. So I'm gonna disappear first. And you should too. Take your wife, grab as much cash as you can hold, and get the fuck out."
         Massey took a long drag from his cigarette, and turned his head to blow the smoke away from the table into the open air. He stared into the slowly dissipating gray cloud for several seconds, and sighed. His hands were still shaking a bit, but it had mostly subsided.
         "Tav...you've always been a good fucking guy. You're as close to a friend as this poor bastard sitting across from you has ever had. All the errand boys were, I s'pose. But, what I'm saying is...you don't deserve to go out like Howell and the others. So I'm beggin' ya, man, just...get the fuck out."
         Tav, whose gaze had been angled downwards for the last few minutes, now moved his eyes up to meet Massey's, which were locked on him. He saw a lot of things in those eyes. Fear, mostly. But he also saw concern. After a few seconds, Tav began to nod.
         "Alright. You're right, brother. I know you are. I just didn't wanna believe it."
         Tav leaned back in his chair.
         "Let's get the fuck out of this town. Today."
         A faint smirk appeared on Massey's face. He nodded, and leaned back in his own chair with another sigh.
         "Shite. What a mess this whole thing's become. Bishop Lawson was a fucking force t'be reckoned with, that's for goddam sure. I mean, we knew he had the cops on some kind of payroll, but the way he brought 'em down on us...Christ." Massey leaned forward with a look of irritation. "And to think it coulda been avoided if that fuckhead Marcus had just done his job and offed the bastard. Useless shitbird."
         Massey took another drag. Tav's slightly clenched fist escaped his notice.
         "Hell, you were there, Tav, you know what a fucking rookie job that was. In, shoot, out, done. And Marcus still managed to fuck it up. I mean, if that dumb motherfuck had ju-"
         He didn't get a chance to complete the thought. In one quick movement, Tav stood from his chair, reached across to grab Massey's collar, and slammed the other man's head down onto the table. As Massey recoiled from the hit, a smashed cigarette falling from his hand, Tav got up, moved around the table to where Massey was seated, and grabbed the his collar again, this time using it to pull the other man's face towards his, until they were no more than half an inch apart. Several heads had turned at surrounding tables.
         "Agh! Jesus, Tav, what the fuck?"
         "Don't you ever fucking talk about Marcus like that again, you son of a bitch," Tav said, shaking Massey by his collar with every emphasized word. "You fucking hear me?"
         "Yeah, yeah, I get it, Jesus! Calm down!"
         Many more people had turned to stare at the two at this point, and a waitress began cautiously walking over to investigate. Tav released Massey's collar and straightened himself as she reached the table.
         "Is, um...is everything okay here, sirs?"
         Tav momentary outburst of anger had passed; he cleared his throat, and spoke once again in his calming and forever-somewhat-jovial manner.
         "Sure is, love. Sorry about that. Simple misunderstanding, ya know. Me and my friend here were just leaving anyways."
Massey straightened his shirt and nodded at the young lady.
         "Aye, we were."
         The waitress, convinced by the quick defusal of the situation, or perhaps just uninterested in getting in the middle of whatever fight might be occurring between these two strangers, turned to continue attending to other customers. Massey stood up.
         "Well, Tav...guess this is goodbye for a while. Been a pleasure. Be careful."
         He put his hand out, and Tav took it. The men shook hands for the last time.
         "Aye, brother. It has. Good luck. And, uh...sorry about that."
         "Forget it. No harm done. Now get going. Tell Sarah I said hey."
         The men parted ways and walked to their cars. Massey took a right out of the lot, giving one last wave to Tav as he went. Tav turned left, and headed home.

         Tav's mind wandered as he made the drive back home. He thought about the seven years he had spent working for the family, and how little it counted for now. He thought about Howell, who had been decent to him from day one. He thought about his wife, and the distaste she had always had for Tav's line of work. But for the most part, he thought about Marcus.
         "There are very few ways t'leave this line a'work that don't involve somebody in a bodybag, that's for sure. But you and me, Tav? We're a hell of a fuckin' team. I think we've gotta chance. We've just gotta be smart about it. And hell, you're smart enough for both of us anyways."
         Tav remembered the night Marcus had told him that as if it had been last night. It was during the third year of Tav's service to the family, and Marcus's fourth. Marcus had already been planning his exit from the job back then. Tav wished more than anything that he had gone through with the plan. He missed his friend. And he missed his own amiable nature, most of which had died with Marcus.
         He wondered what Marcus would do in a situation like this. Then he realized that, if Marcus were still alive to answer that question, the situation probably wouldn't exist. Tav moved on from this train of thought with a sigh.
         Tav moved his mind back to the present, turned onto his street, and rolled his car into his driveway next to his wife's. He was home.

         It took only a few seconds for him to realize something was wrong.
         He saw it as soon as he climbed out of his car. The garage door was lifted so that the bottom was about a foot from the ground. Their garage door was electric; after pressing the button, it was either all the way open or all the way closed. He walked over to it, and kneeled to take a closer look. The bottom of the door was scratched and bent near the center; someone had forced it open. They must have been unable to get it back down from the inside.
         Tav's throat had gone dry. He stood up. He didn't know who was in his house, but he knew why they were there. But he had no intention of using this knowledge to escape. The love of his life was in that house too. And he would be goddamned if he was going to let any harm come to her. He moved to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped into his house. The lights were off; the only light sources were the windows. Tav decided it would be best to leave it that way.
         As he crept through the foyer, he heard nothing but the very faint sound of music from a few rooms away. His wife liked to always keep some kind of music playing while at home, usually from the CD player in the kitchen. And even from the little he could hear, he knew what she had playing today. Queen. She loved Queen. As he entered the dining room, the music became much clearer. He heard Freddie Mercury crooning the last few lines of 'Play the Game', but still no other sounds from the rest of the house. Then he entered the den.
         "Hi, Tav."
         "Shannon."
         Even in the sparse light of the partially blinded windows, there was no mistaking the man who sat on Tav's couch. Dominic Shannon had been an errand boy for the family for ten years by the time Tav arrived, and had been trusted with some of the most important and dangerous work the family had come to them with. If he hadn't been in the hospital the previous January (broken leg from a car wreck), he probably would have been assigned the Bishop Lawson job instead of Tav and Marcus. Coincidence can be a cruel bitch, as Tav's father used to say.

         Queen's 'I Want To Break Free' began to play from the kitchen.

         Shannon pointed his suppressed Walther P22 at Tav, then motioned it to the seat across from the couch.
         "Have a seat, yeah?"
         Tav was in no position to refuse. He sat. Shannon's placed the hand holding the gun on his knee, barrel fixed firmly on Tav.
         "Dom, where's Sar-"
         "Your wife's asleep in the bedroom, Tav. Tranquilizer. We'll both be long gone by the time she wakes up."
         "S'that right?"
         "Aye. That's right. I'm sure you know why I'm here. I couldn't work faster than word spreads, after all. I take no joy in it, but s'gotta be done. Loose ends, ya know. And the absurd amount of money the family is giving me for this doesn't hurt."
         "Aye. I have a feeling what they give you once you're done is gonna hurt, though."
         "Very funny, Tav. But wrong. I'm too important to them now for them to off me like that."
         "Yeah, and I'm William fucking Wallace."
         A look of impatient frustration spread across Shannon's face.
         "Ya know, Tav, I liked you. Which is why I figured you deserved better than being shot in the back. But if you're gonna be a cock about it, maybe I should just get this over with."
         He began to raise the gun from his knee.
         "Wait. Wait." Tav raised his hands slightly to signal the man to stop. He knew any more significant movement would get him shot. His mind had been racing since he had sat down, and he finally had an idea.
         Shannon lowered the gun again.
         "What?"
         "Do you mind if I, ya know...have a bit of a last meal? Haven't eaten all day."
         "Are you serious?"
         "Quite."
         "Oh for Christ. You're fucking ridiculous, Tav. Fine, whatever. But make it quick."
         "Much appreciated."
         Both men slowly stood, and Shannon followed Tav to the kitchen, always staying behind him, and out of arm's reach. He maintained this distance once they got to the kitchen. He kept his gun constantly trained on Tav as Tav brought down a plate and turned two pieces of bread and some turkey into his meager final meal. Facing his soon-to-be assassin, he leaned against the counter with the plate in his left hand, lifted the sandwich with his right, and began to eat.

         Queen's 'Save Me' began playing from the CD player on the corner of the counter.

         Tav finished eating, and looked up at Shannon. Shannon began to raise his gun.
         "About goddamn time. Alright, Tav. It's been nice-"
         He didn't get a chance to complete the thought.
         Tav grabbed the edge of the plate with his right hand, and launched it toward Shannon. It hit its mark perfectly; the edge slammed into Shannon's throat, and he recoiled from the impact, gagging and breathless.
         Tav had learned that one from Marcus.
         Tav threw himself across the kitchen towards Shannon. Having partially recovered, Shannon managed let off four desperate shots in Tav's direction before he was tackled. Shannon fell to the ground with Tav on top of him, his head crashing into the tile and disorienting him even further. Tav grabbed the hand that held the gun, and began forcing it around to face its owner. Shannon tried to resist, but breathlessness and a concussion made it all but impossible. Tav twisted the gun toward Shannon's head, and pressed the end of the suppressor into the man's jaw.
         "FUCK. YOU."
         Each word was punctuated by a bullet.
         Tav threw the gun aside, moved himself off of the body, and stood up to observe the product of his victory. He could feel his whole body shaking. And then he finally felt the warmth that was spreading across his chest.
         He looked down at his own chest, and saw two holes in his shirt. Two of the four desperation shots Shannon had gotten off before he went down. One in the lung, one in the stomach.
         Tav was dying, and he knew it.
         He couldn't help but think that Marcus would have gotten out of this alive.
         Tav sighed, and zipped his jacket up over his shirt.
         Stepping over the body of his killer, he exited the kitchen, made his way back through the den, turned down the hallway, and headed toward the bedroom.
         "There are very few ways t'leave this line a'work that don't involve somebody in a bodybag, that's for sure."
         Breathing was becoming harder, and he had to lean on the wall to keep from stumbling. He reached the door to the bedroom, and pushed it open.
         There she was.
         The love of his life, beautiful as ever, was laid out on the bed, sleeping calmly, blissfully unaware of the world. Tav had always loved watching her sleep. With the stress their life entailed, it was one of the rare times he would see her completely relaxed and calm. So as he dragged himself into the bedroom for the last time, it was no surprise that the feeling of peace that the sight of her brought him heavily outweighed the sadness of knowing he was seeing it for the last time.
         "But you and me, Tav? We're a hell of a fuckin' team. I think we've gotta chance."
         No longer able to stand, Tav dropped to his knees beside the bed, placing his hand on his wife's face.
         "I love you, Sarah."
         A weak laugh escaped from his damaged lungs.
         "Sorry about staining the tile."
         He stared into her sleeping face for a few seconds, then leaned forward and kissed her.
         Finally ready, Stephen MacTavish slid to the floor and let himself fall into a sleep of his own.