br />
He woke up with a throbbing headache; as if his brain had grown too large for his skull. It was to be expected the morning after celebrating his 18th birthday. He lay still and stared at the ceiling for a long while before gathering the energy required to move. Jake sat up in his bed and slowly made his way towards the kitchen. He could smell it the moment he opened the door, his father’s anti-hangover breakfast.
“Hey kiddo,” Daniel Winters said as he pulled the last strips of bacon off the frying pan. Jake could let out little more than a groan in response as he dropped himself into the kitchen bench and lay his head down on the cold granite.
Daniel placed a plate of eggs, sausages, bacon and pancakes in front of his youngest son along with a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. “Protein, grease, calcium and sugar. What else could a man need in the morning,” Daniel said.
“Bucket,” Jake replied. Daniel laughed. “Seriously, bucket, now,” Jake repeated.
Daniel acted quickly; he grabbed a bucket from under the kitchen sink and threw it to his son. Jake caught it and instantly emptied the majority of the previous nights drinks into it. “Sorry,” Jake said.
“Don’t sweat it, just means you did it right,” Daniel replied. “Me and Patch are heading out of town for a few days, friend of ours needs some help with a pest problem over in Marriton.”
“Alright,” Jake said as he made his way to the kitchen sink and washed his mouth out.
“Trust me, finish that plate and wait half an hour, you’ll feel right as rain. Tell your brothers I said to go easy on you today,” Daniel said as he slung his large black bag over his shoulder. He rubbed his hand through his son's thick brown hair and made his way out the door.
Jake stared at the small mound of food before him and slowly started picking at it. He forced himself through half of it before giving up; after all, he had other plans. He took a shower and dressed himself. Today was the day, the day he had been waiting for. He was finally old enough.
The sun was high in the sky over South-Ariel, the city he and his brothers had been born and raised. Although Daniel Winters thought of all three of them as his sons, only two of them were by blood. Charlie and Jake Winters were the only two born of Jillian, the love of Daniel’s life. Harry Henderson had been taken in by their family at a young age, young enough for any prior memories to be a cocktail of tortured facts and the exaggerated fiction of a growing boys imagination. The line between where he really came from and what his mind had created over the years had blurred.
The fresh air from the stroll dulled Jake's headache. He made his way up Sherwin Road and offered a greeting to the familiar faces he passed. The whole neighbourhood knew him, and his family. He reached the apartment and glanced across the road through the large front windows of a bar named Dempsey’s, the Irish establishment where he had been the night before, a place which he and his brothers would frequent when there was nothing else to do; the fact that Jake was underage had never stopped them from serving him a drink. He made his way up the stairs of the apartment building and found the door open. He entered and closed it behind him. The kitchen to his left and the living room ahead of him were both empty. He heard the familiar sounds of billiard balls clashing and made his way towards the game room.
“What do you say? Twenty?” Harry asked Charlie.
“Make it fifty,” Charlie replied.
Jake entered to see the shirtless and thick chested Harry with a beer in his hand and a few days of neglected shaving decorating his face. Jake spied the tattoo of the Roman numeral II on the right side of his torso. Harry was watching the slightly taller but equally physiqued Charlie- who bore the Roman numeral I in the same place- carefully line up a shot and sink a ball with deadly accuracy.
“Morning princess,” Harry said.
“Afternoon,” Jake replied.
“What’s up?” Charlie asked.
“You know what’s up. I want in,” Jake said.
“After I wipe the floor with Harry,” he said as he lined up another shot, “you can join.”
“I don’t want to play pool. You know what I mean. You said when I turn 18, when I’m old enough to join the army, I’m old enough to join you guys. I want in,” Jake repeated. “Is there a job today?”
“Easy speedy, this isn’t a frat-club, you can’t just stroll in. You’ve got to earn it,” Charlie said.
“How?”
“What is it we do?” Harry asked in return.
“You do favours for people.”
“So does a ten-dollar-whore. What do we do?”
“You help people.”
“People who can’t help themselves.”
“That’s what I want to do too.”
“You don’t need our permission for that, go do it.”
“What do I do?”
“Find someone with a problem, then help them fix it,” Charlie said.
“The bigger the better,” Harry added.
“Where do I start?” Jake asked.
Harry grabbed a newspaper from nearby and tossed it to him. “That’s as good a place as any.”
“Alright,” Jake said as he placed the folded up paper under his arm. “When do I get the tattoo?”
“When you’ve earned it,” Charlie said.
“Now do me a favour and fetch me another beer,” Harry smiled.
Jake turned around and made his way towards the kitchen. He took a beer from the fridge and tossed it to him. He fell into the couch beside the pool table and opened the newspaper.
“Loser sets up,” Charlie said as he sunk the final ball.
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry replied as he began retrieving all the balls.
Charlie’s phone rang; he placed it to his ear.
“Hey Charlie, it’s Theo,” came the shaky voice.
“Hey Theo. What’s up?”
“I need a favour,” he said. “I owe someone some money.”
Charlie put the phone on speaker and lay it down on the table so Harry could hear. Jake placed the paper down and listened in.
“How much do you owe?”
“Ten-Grand.”
“And you don’t have it?” Charlie asked.
“No, I have it,” Theo said.
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s just a few days late and this guy's got a pretty bad rep. I’ve been ducking his attack dog until I got the scratch together, but now that I have it I’m afraid to go and give it to him.”
“Who is he?” Harry asked.
“His name is Andrei.”
“Haven’t heard of him. You want us to come with you?”
“Actually I was hoping you could give it to him for me?”
Charlie and Harry exchanged understanding looks before speaking again. “You want us to be the messengers, that’s fine. Might be a better idea if we just come with you instead though.”
“This guy is nuts! He said he’d cut off my fingers if i'm late,” Theo pleaded.
“What do you think he’ll do to us then if we go without you?”
“Maybe he knows who you are.”
“Maybe he doesn’t. If you send us in your place and this goes bad, you’re going to keep looking over your shoulder. If you come with us, maybe you won’t have to. Maybe we can reason with him.”
Charlie’s phone was quiet, he checked to see if the line was still connected.
“Alright,” came the response. “I’ll come. I don’t want to lose my fingers man.”
“Fingers are over rated,” Harry said.
“Come by our place tonight,” Charlie said before he hung up.
Jake spoke up as Charlie hung up the phone.
“You guys wa
nt some back up?” Jake offered.
Both Charlie and Harry chuckled. A few minutes passed before Jake spoke again. “I found something,” he said as he threw the newspaper on the pool table.
“That was quick,” Harry said as he picked up the paper and scanned the article. ‘Local orphanage closed before it opens’ the headline read.
“You’re going to help build an orphanage?”
“It’s just short a little cash. They’re asking for donations,” Jake said.
“How much?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“Well I suggest you find out first,” Harry said.
“Will do,” Jake said as he took the paper back and headed for the door.
“Told you,” Charlie smiled.
“You got lucky. Here's twenty, because we didn't shake on the fifty.”
It took Jake thirty minutes to make it to the incomplete building. Three levels of grey concrete stood before him; square holes in the walls took place of windows and scaffolding stood erect on the west side of the structure. He walked to the front door and pushed it open. “Hello!” his voice echoed down the empty hallway.
“Hello?” he heard faintly as a man made himself known. Jake approached him from a distance.
“Are you in charge here?”
“No, you want the administration office across the street. Ask for Father Pearson,” the scrawny man replied.
“Who are you then?”
“I’m just here to make sure no one steals the piping. A lot of money in copper,” he replied.
“Alright, thanks,” Jake said as he turned and made his way to the administration office. He found a man wearing the holy collar with his elbows resting on a mountain of papers and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Father Pearson?”
“Friends call me Doug,” the man said without looking up.