Chapter 157
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1983
Elliott fumbled with the television remote and the telephone, trying to turn down the TV and answer the phone at the same time without sitting down or spilling his beer. He mumbled a curse word and finally managed to press the button to connect. He hoped it wasn’t a sales call. He didn’t want to miss the Celtics/Lakers game for a telemarketer. “Hello?”
“Elliott, it’s Mom.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He hadn’t spoken to her in more years than he cared to count. “Yeah?” He didn’t know what else to say. She’d practically disowned him the last time they’d met, and he didn’t even want to think about the things she’d said, about how he’d ruined his life and amounted to nothing, how he should’ve fought for his kids….
“I won’t be long. I just wanted to let you know… Jordan Findley was killed last night.”
The news was shocking. He had no idea how that was even possible. While he knew a Hunter could kill a Guardian, how would one capable of such a feat get access to the Guardian Leader? “What happened?” he asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“Some psycho Hunter shot him in the back of the head in his apartment last night,” Peggy explained. “I haven’t talked to him or Janette for years, but I got a call from a local Hunter I used to work with a little while ago. Anyway, I just thought you might want to know.”
“Okay. Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. He thought about pointing out that she sure was good at cutting people off from her life, but he didn’t see the point.
“Okay then. I guess you’re doing okay?”
“Just great.”
She was quiet again for a little while before she said, “Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time.”
“Okay. Bye.” He clicked off before she could say anything else to make him feel bad about the situation that had arisen between them, but he refused to take the blame for that. Maybe he wasn’t the best at keeping relationships either, but in fairness, most of the people he cared about had died. Or he should’ve never been involved with them in the first place, like Nancy. Or someone had lied to them about his character—like his children. Or it wasn’t a real relationship to begin with like the parade of girls he’d had in his life the last twenty years. Okay, maybe he also wasn’t good at relationships.
He took another sip of his beer and turned the volume back up on the television. He thought about Janette. He’d always kind of liked the lady. She was feisty, that was for sure, and she’d done as much as anyone to keep him and Jimmy safe and get them out of that hellhole. He had no idea what had ever happened to Arlene. He figured she had to be dead by now, though. Not that she’d be that old. Probably in her sixties. But the way she drank and smoked…. He assumed she was dead, too.
And now, so was Jordan. The thought made him shudder. If the Guardian Leader could be gunned down in his own apartment, what was keeping any of them alive? But then, he’d always thought he’d live forever, and in a way, this news made him feel a little warm inside. Maybe there was a chance he wouldn’t be confined to his current state of purgatory for eternity after all. Maybe someday a Hunter would shoot him in the head, and then he could find Reggie and play a game of catch or ride bikes with Jimmy. Of course, in order for that to happen, he’d probably have to hang around some Hunters.
The idea of joining up with LIGHTS had entered his mind recently, but not because yet another team of recruiters had come knocking on his door. His gambling debts were starting to add up. His most recent girlfriend, Leslie, had said she couldn’t live in an apartment this small, and even though Elliott was pulling in a huge salary plus commission at the lot, he owed a lot of people a lot of money. If he joined LIGHTS, maybe he’d be free of that burden. Not to mention, it seemed like more people were catching on to his shady pool tactics. They’d never be able to prove he was cheating because he technically wasn’t, but throwing the first game to win double or nothing on the second was beginning to feel a little sketchy to some of his opponents, and he’d had to start looking for new places to shoot pool. He was constantly looking for new venues on the outskirts of town.
Elliott sipped his Bud and thought about the one and only time he’d met Jordan Findley. Seemed like a nice man. He felt bad for his family. Maybe he’d call Janette in a day or two, tell her he was sorry. Maybe he wouldn’t. “Rest in peace, Mr. Findley,” he said raising his beer bottle to the heavens. He took a long swallow and settled back in his chair, letting thoughts of the meaning of life and death evade him as Magic Johnson sank a three pointer.
Tulsa, Oklahoma, 1985
Andora’s was a hole in the ground club a few miles outside of town down a two-lane highway, and while it smelled a bit like a urinal, he had a pretty good racket going here. It was much better than the last place he’d set up shop, Hoppers, on the other side of town. Things hadn’t ended well there when he’d angered what turned out to be the leader of a biker gang. It’d been a month and a half, though, and he was pretty sure Larry and the boys had moved on to greener pastures. Besides, he’d only taken him for 500 bucks, which wasn’t much considering what he usually ended up hauling in before his mark was on to him.
There were lots of pretty girls in the club tonight, which made Elliott happy, and when he was happy, he tended to talk. He was in the middle of his second game with a fat guy named Tony, a guy he’d already taken a couple of hundred bucks from a few nights ago, but he hadn’t learned his lesson yet, apparently, and Elliott was glad to take more. While Tony took forever to set up his next shot, Elliott recounted the time Vinny Vespachio had come into the dealership a few years back and bought himself a nice, untraceable used car.
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