Zed
When I walked into the club that night, it smelled like fresh blood. I could tell from a mile away that something bad was about to go down, and I couldn’t wait. Peyton had texted me earlier and told me there was something I “had to see” so I drove downtown after dark. When I rolled up, Peyton was sitting outside, smoking a cigarillo.
“My man,” he said, slapping me on the back. I nodded at him once and sat down. After knowing someone for over fifteen years, you don’t really need to talk.
“What’s up?” I asked, rubbing a hand on my close-cropped head. I still wasn’t used to being able to grow my hair longer than a buzz, but I was going to have to adjust. After all, the real world ain’t prison.
“It’s good, man,” Peyton replied, leaning back. “Listen, do you still need work?”
I nodded. “Yeah, man. It’s been a few weeks. I’m done working construction though. That’s some dangerous shit, and I can’t deal with those assholes.”
Peyton shook his head. His dreadlocks flew around his face, settling in a pile on his left shoulder. “It ain’t that, man,” he said, taking a long draw on his smoke. “You ever heard of PI?”
“Like the fuckin’ circus?” I laughed. “That’s a fucking riot, dude. Me in the fuckin’ circus.”
“No, you fool.” Peyton was laughing so hard that smoke was pluming out of his nose. I watched as it curled lazily above our heads and drifted off into the atmosphere. “Private investigation, not P.T. Barnum.”
I frowned. “Don’t you need to go to fuckin’ school for that, man?”
Peyton shook his head. “This is on the down low,” he said in a quiet voice. “But you know that fuckin’ gang you lookin’ for?”
“Keep your fuckin’ voice down!” I hissed. Peyton looked nonplussed.
“I know a guy who knows a guy, who knows someone with them,” he said, even quieter. “Someone who needs a little investigation work done. You down? If you work with him, he might be able to help you out.” Peyton looked at me.
I sighed. Peyton knew everything. Fifteen years ago, my sister, Rose, was brutally murdered. The cops never found anyone, but I always had a feeling that it had to do with this motorcycle club, Iron Angels. They were bad news and didn’t hesitate to destroy anyone who stepped in front of them.
Rose had been a good girl; sweet, kind, beautiful. She even went to church, for fuck’s sake. I still wasn’t sure what happened, but I’d spent the past ten years trying to find her killer. Even when I was locked up, I never stopped looking.
When I was in the big house, I met some ex-cons who had been with Iron Angels. Even though they were old, they were still tough birds. One of them had gotten me fucked up in the heroin business, and I was pretty sure that I was in jail because of that fucking gang. The guys I met behind bars weren’t much help, but they gave me the area to start looking when I got out. So far, the trail had been cold.
Seeing this part of Detroit made me shiver. I hated thinking of Rose here alone, dying in the street like an animal. It made me rage every time her sweet face crossed my mind. No matter what I did with the rest of my life, I had to avenge her. It was the only thing I cared about.
“I’ll take the work,” I told Peyton darkly. He nodded his approval, and I could see his white teeth grinning in the dark.
“Good man,” he replied. “What’s been new with you?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Not a fucking trace, that’s for sure. I think I got a little rusty when I was locked up for so goddamn long.”
Peyton shook his head. “You’re gonna be fine,” he told me mildly. “You do what I tell you, and you’ll come out smelling like a goddamn rose.”
His metaphor made my sister’s angelic face flash into my mind again. I could still see her now: light green eyes, like mine only sweeter, medium brown curly hair, and curved pink lips. She’d been the most beautiful girl in the world, and she never got to experience any of it. Violent rage coursed through my body.
Peyton watched me with amusement. I glared at him in silence.
“Thanks,” I finally said. Even though he knew about Rose, I didn’t want to bring her up again. Sometimes I couldn’t even believe that I deserved to say her name.
I nodded at my friend and went inside the club for a drink. Finding work meant something to celebrate, even if it meant working with those scumbags from Iron Angels. Flagging the bartender, I ordered a whiskey, neat. He brought me two, and I tossed them back one after the other, feeling the liquor burn my throat with a familiar warmth. I paid him without speaking and walked back outside.
Peyton was gone. I figured he’d be in touch when it came time for me to find out more about my assignment, but I couldn’t lie. I was still bummed. It was a lot for a man to be locked up for ten years with no real life, and I hadn’t felt like I’d entirely come back yet.
I’d been bouncing around from one odd job to the other, and nothing stuck. But Zed McIntyre, private investigator? Admittedly, I liked the sound of it. I pictured myself in the future with some sleek office and a string of honeys I could call up for a one-night stand whenever I wanted it. Women couldn’t keep themselves away from me now; if I had a dollar for every bitch I’d fucked since getting out of prison, I’d have enough to retire. But that was all it was to me—sex.
A black car with tinted windows pulled up, and some man rolled out of the back seat. He grunted at me. “Yo, McIntyre!”
I walked towards the sound of my last name being called in the air. “What the fuck, man?” I hissed. “These people don’t fuckin’ know me!”
“Sorry,” he replied in a dry tone. “I got a message from someone. You better watch your back if you wanna stay alive in this city.”
I frowned. “What the fuck you talkin’ about, man?” I stepped back from the car. “I didn’t fuck nobody, not in this town.”
The man sneered and got in my face. “You better listen, jackoff,” he said through his teeth. “Unless you want my friend to go skin up your little girlfriend, you better keep your fuckin’ head down!”
“Who?” I squinted. “I don’t have no fuckin’ lady!”
The man laughed, exposing pearly white teeth and some gold caps in the back of his mouth. “That fuckin little tight brunette girl,” he told me. “With those big eyes. You watch out for her. Her pussy smells so good I could whiff it from across the street.”
I set my mouth in a thin line. “You don’t have anything to worry about,” I said, backing away from the car with my hands up in the air. “You’ll never see us again.”
The man laughed again, this time turning it into a harsh cough. “That’s fuckin’ right,” he replied, laughing. “We don’t see you alive again, you hear?” He started hooting and laughing and doubling up. From inside the car, I heard other men jeering and laughing as I backed away.
Fuck all of y’all, I thought as I stormed away from the club. Fuck you for making me have to protect her, too.