Page 13 of Demise

“You said I’d be okay if I paid at the end of the month.”

“And what day is it?”

“Bones, it’s only the first. It’s only a day late.”

Another punch to the face. Blood drips from the bastard’s nose. It appears Bones has broken it.

“Nope. It’s eleven days late from the original pay date. I gave you ten extra days, Miles. Ten whole days. I thought that was kind of me. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

I think that’s too kind of him, but I keep quiet.

Bones leans down, looking Miles in his battered face. “I find out you’re snorting cocaine next to the food you’re preparing. I find out you’re drinking on the job. This isn’t good for business, and you know what they say?”

He shakes his head.

“They say, you must crack the nuts before you can eat the kernel.”

Miles looks confused.

I chime in, understanding all of Bones’ Irish metaphors by now, “Success takes hard work.”

“Exactly. Sweep took the words right out of my mouth. You must do better. People are hearing about your bad habits, and you know what it’s doing to me?” Bones speaks to the man as if he’s a small boy getting scolded for stealing some candy. I’m bored with this situation. We should cut his finger off and be done with it.

Miles doesn’t say anything. I have a strong urge to pop him upside the head.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question, Miles. I need you to answer,” Bones says.

“It makes you look bad,” he mumbles.

“What was that?” Bones asks, looking over at Trig, who’s popping his rubber band. Miles looks over at him, too, nervously.

I almost laugh.

“Did you hear that, Trig?” Bones says.

Trig nods, looking pissed, looking uneasy. He’s been odd lately.

Bones turns his attention back to Miles, “I said it makes you look bad,” Miles repeats.

I lean against the counter crossing my ankles. Bones notices my boredom. He smirks, and I begin to think he’s prolonging this show just to get under my skin. He knows I hate dragging things out.

“I’m sorry, Bones. I’ll do better. I got a little bit of money in the office. I can give you that now and give you the other next week.” Miles looks back at Trig again. “Why…why is he popping that rubber band?”

“Therapy,” Trig says.

“Keeps him from shooting people in the face,” I say evenly.Which is what we should be doing to you.

Bones exhales, seeming bored now himself. He grabs his knife from his waist and snaps the zip tie.“Go get the money.”

Bones was disgusted with Miles, and he had every right to be. That was one thing, but you see, Miles didn’t pay on time, and when you don’t pay on time, you get a conversation. You still don’t pay on time, you get the fist, and if the payment has not been received by the first of the following month, your legs get stuffed into your pockets, or if Bones is feeling less kind, you lose a ligament.

If you ask me, we’re too lenient. Should have been harder on the dead bastard. But Bones doesn’t kill for the sport of it. You have to have really fucked up for him to go that far. Me? Well, you don’t have to do much.

The thing that I keep going back to is, why did Miles go after Bexley? Why shoot up her shop? No one knows about her and Bones. That’s a rule of the streets. You don’t let anyone know who you love, especially your woman.

That’s your weakness.

That’s how they get to you.

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