Читать книгу Gods & Gangsters - Соломон - Страница 4

Detective O’Brien had a punch me face, but Spagoli’s was pure shoot me.

He wasn’t in a position to do shit, chained to the table in the interrogation room. He had just enough chain to get a cigarette from the packet in front of him and light it. So he just told them like it was. “It’s a war outside,” he said as he inhaled his cigarette, exhaled, then added, “No one is safe.”

Spagoli and O’Brien looked at one another, then looked back. “Not even you.” Spagoli said with a sneer like a razor slash across his face. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of cold hard fact.

He chuckled but not because he was happy. “Especially me. If niggas knew what I was doing right now,” he began to say, before his voice trailed off in shame and regret.

O’Brien was all triumph and victory. Like a hunter who has finally bagged his prize prey. “Yeah, look at you now. Big gangsta nothing! How’s it feel to be a rat?” O’Brien knew exactly where in the heart to stab him.

His blood boiled and his hands made fists. There had been a time when his name would’ve never been mentioned in the same sentence with the word rat, and cop or no cop, he would’ve murdered anyone who did. But that was before. Now he was exactly what they said he was.

A rat.

He looked at himself in the reflection of the two-way mirror on the wall behind the detectives. It reflected the interrogation room strip lights like spotlights onto his shame. He knew she was probably on the other side watching him.

I’m doing it for you he thought. As if it would make the guilt eating him drain away. As if it would make any fucking difference. It wouldn’t. So just to let her know he knew she was there, he blew her a kiss before returning to Spagoli and O’Brien.

Fuck that bitch.

Focus.

“You know O’Brien, they say the only thing that will survive a nuclear war is the rats and the roaches. I guess that makes us both survivors huh, you fucking cockroach.”

O’Brien lunged at him, but Spagoli was quicker and caught an arm that was about to send its fist, pile-driving into his nose. Spagoli pulled O’Brien to one side.

“Save it.” Spagoli told O’Brien, then turned to him and said, “And you watch your friggin’ mouth! If it wasn’t for us, your black ass would be floating in the East River! Now tell us what we want to know!”

“What do you want to know?” he said enjoying O’Brien’s anger just enough to let it show on his face. If O’Brien’s eyes were 9mm hollow-points…

“Everything!” Spagoli bellowed.

He inhaled the cigarette smoke. “Everything? Even about her?” he teased, tossing his head in the direction of the two-way mirror. “You wanna know what her pussy taste like?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Spagoli hissed. Spagoli was on the edge too. He smirked.

“Relax, spaghetti head. It ain’t that serious, unless… you’re fucking her too?”

Spagoli leaned across the table, slamming him in the shoulders and jerking him back in the chair. Many niggas were cold in the ground for a lot less.

“You want to play with me, you cocksucker? Huh?!” Spagoli seethed.

His eyes lit up with realization. “Oh you are fucking her, huh? Wow, she really does get around!”

His laugh creased Spagoli’s face like an old five-dollar bill. Fortunately, O’Brien pulled Spagoli off of him. “Sit down!” O’Brien told him.

He was getting to the both of them. If he was going to be a rat, he might as well have some fun along the way. How much fun depended on how much juice he could give them. So he re-lit his cigarette and began.

“It goes like this, the start of the ending…”