Backfire (7 page)

“No, I don’t.” Michael glared at him, and with each second that passed, he was tempted to get up and inform the guard that he was ready to go.  A sense of dread surrounded him.  Viper had not changed.  He was the same sarcastic prick that Michael remembered him being before he got locked up.

“They don’t let us have them too often.  Which is bullshit.  They aren’t outlawed.” Again, Viper leaned back and for a second, Michael hoped the chair would completely fall backward on him.  “So, why’d you come here anyway, Hero?”

Michael folded his arms over his chest.  “I’d prefer that you call me Michael.”

Viper raised his hands to his chest and his eyes widened.  “My bad, my bad.  You mean I can’t call you Mikey like everyone else?”

“No you can’t.  Only certain people can, and you sure as hell ain’t one of them.”

The room fell silent for a bit, each one of them staring at each other.  Viper’s smirk remained.  “So, you never answered me, Michael.”  He accentuated Michael and bobbed his head from side to side as he said it. “Make my time worthwhile.  Normally I’d be working out in the gym, preparing for when I get out of here.”

“You killed a New York firefighter, Viper.  You’re not getting out of here, and I’ll make damn sure you don’t.”

“You come all the way here from Hell’s Kitchen to tell me that?”

Michael shifted his weight in the chair and pulled his shirt away from his throat.  The room was starting to get hot.  Did Viper seriously think he would go free after everything he had done?  Knowing Michael’s luck, he could definitely see it happen.  Clearing his throat, he sat forward and rested his arms on the surface of the table.  “I came here today because someone I know suggested it.  Said it would help me forgive you.”

“Someone you know?” Viper pursed his lips and ran his index finger over his them.  “Could it be the person you go see because you’re a crazy mother fucker now?”

“Why the hell would you think something like that?”   

“Your reaction alone proves it.  But seriously, Mikey, I could tell the moment I walked in here that you’re not doing too well.  I’ve always been good at reading people, especially now that I’m locked up, and you, Hero, are letting yourself go insane.”  Smiling, he let out a deep laugh.  “I’m glad I can say I took part in it.”

Michael stood up and leaned over the table. To hell with keeping calm.  To
hell with it all.  He got
in Viper’s face and the criminal didn’t back away.  He spoke through clenched teeth.  “You listen here you son of a bitch.  You took the life of my best friend and then almost killed
my brother and me
.  You fucked up my entire life over something I had no part of.  I hope your ass rots in here.”

“And this
is going to help you forgive me
how?” Viper asked. They were literally inches apart.  For a split
second, Michael contemplated
hitting him.  All of this time he had thought about what he could do to get even. He was so close to the man he could take all of his frustrations out on. Looking at the door a few feet away, he remembered a guard was just on the other side. Standing up, he went back to his side of the table in fear of alarming them. “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.  You got that Irish rage going on.”

“I told you not to call me Mikey.” He sat back down, but wasn’t sure why.  His instincts were telling him to leave and never look back. 

Viper clicked his tongue between his teeth.  “You know what I think?  I think you’ll never get over what happened.  I think you’re gonna leave here today, mosey on back to Hell’s Kitchen, find the first pub you come across, take a nice and long soothing shot of Jameson whiskey, remember how amazing it made you feel, and go on a bender.  Yep.  You McGinnis boys are weak.  Just like that brother Casey of yours.  A relapse for him is inevitable.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think.” Michael’s voice was raspy and he coughed to clear it. 

“I know that you love your whiskey.  Go ahead and leave the island.  Hell, don’t even wait to get back home before you go to a bar.  You can’t swing a dead cat in New York without hitting one.  Tell the bartender to leave the bottle.  Just down it.  You and Casey can go on your relapse journey together.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me or Casey, you piece of shit.” Michael’s pulse was racing.  Why wasn’t he just getting up to leave?

“Go ahead, Michael.  Go have a drink.  No one could blame you after the hell you’ve been through.” He made quotation marks with his hands as he said it.  “Alcohol, the best psychiatric drug out there.  Just do it. You know you want to.”

Michael stood up again, slamming his hands hard on the table.  “Fuck you!” Yelling, his voice echoed.  There was no doubt that he now had drawn attention to their room.  “Fuck you Viper! You’re a piece of shit, you’ll always be a piece of shit, and I will make it my life’s duty to make sure you die in here!”

“Oh, get mad! I like it, Fireman!”

A guard quickly entered, pulling Michael away from the table.  Motioning to another cop, he said, “Get Viper back to his cell!” Turning to Michael, he gave him a small shove. “What the hell is going on in here?”

             
Michael adjusted his shirt
, feeling the sweat on his palm.  “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

“Mr. McGinnis, we can make it where you can never visit Riker’s Island again if this behavior continues.”

“Do it.  I have no intention in coming back to this hell hole.” He exited the room before the guard replied,
feeling the eyes of everyone in the hallway on him
.  It wasn’t his intention to cause a scene, but Viper had gone right to his weak spot.  It was a low blow and he completely lost his cool.

“I’ll escort you to the front.  You’ll need to turn in your visitor credentials.  We do need to know what happened in there involving the inmate.”

Michael glanced at him from the corner of his eye.  “I just lost my cool.  Everything’s fine.”  He took the tag off of his shirt and gave it to the front desk clerk.  After he was signed out, he made his way o
ut, thankful he could leave
.  He felt like a rat in a maze, and for a split second, he did feel bad about how he had acted.  It was understood that Viper would be that way.  The guards were used to it.  But for a visitor?  He wasn’t any
better than Viper
. 

He took
a taxi back to Hell’s Kitchen
and had the driver stop a few blocks from his apartment.  He passed a few bars, slowing at the entrance of each.  People were coming and going and he got quick peeks inside.  The bar smells were strong.  Slowly passing each one by, he did step inside a liquor store just down the street from his place.

He walked down a few of the aisles, taking his time as he read the labels.  He browsed through the wines, the beer, and came to a stand still when he came across the whiskey.  So many different brand names popped out to him.  He ran his hand down the bottles of a few of them.

“Sir, do you need help finding anything?” A young girl who looked far too young to be working at a place like that asked him.

“No, I’m just trying to decide.” He turned back to the bottles as Viper’s words screamed out.

Take a nice long soothing shot of Jameson whiskey.

Michael could taste the warmth of the liquid and how it seemed to take his worries away, even if it was temporary. Grabbing a small bottle, he rushed to the cashier and bought it before he could talk himself out of it.  She placed it in a brown paper sack.

“Have a good day, sir.”

He didn’t respond and quickly walked back to his apartment, taking two steps at a time as he got to his floor.  It was almost six o’clock, which meant Eva would be home in a little over an hour.  He took the amber bottle out of the bag and put it on the kitchen table, staring at it as if it would soon do a trick for him. Burying his head in his hands, he closed his eyes tightly, envisioning the blazing inferno that he and Casey were trapped in. 

He conjured up memories of the pain he went through.  The horrible beatings, the being tied up, the asphyxiating smoke that burned his lungs, were just a brief preview of the thoughts he held inside.

Running his fingers over the neck of the bottle, he compared the smoothness of the glass to how smooth the whiskey would run down his throat.  How could he have been so stupid to go see Viper and think he would be different? How could he be so stupid to take advice from a quack doctor?  He told himself it was his own fault.  He should have never let his guard down in the first place.

Michael continued to stare at the bottle.  Just one sip out of it would screw things up worse than they already were.  One sip would make him the biggest hypocrite in the world. Here he was, about a week away from going down to see his drug addict brother at a rehab facility, and he himself was on the verge of relapsing.  Guilt poured over him.  How could he doubt Casey the way he had when he too, was unstable? 

He cupped the base of the bottle.  Maybe he should drink some just to prove to everyone that he was worthless.  They all probably knew already, but going on a bender would be undeniable.  Back to square one.  It would be worth it if it would just erase all of the pain of the past months and their dealings with Viper. 

His head was just so jumbled up.  He got up from the table and began to pace in an attempt to clear his mind.  He looked out the window, down to the street below.  People were everywhere, scattering in different directions, all in a hurry to get home
.  Resting his head on the windowpane
, he closed his eyes.  Why did he buy the whiskey?  Again, what was he thinking?  It was one mistake after the other.

Chapter Five

Eva walked in the apartment, exhausted and hoping Michael would just want a pizza delivered for dinner.  She didn’t want to cook and by the looks of things, he hadn’t bothered to either.  Stopping instantly, her heart sank when she saw a bottle of Jameson whiskey on the kitchen table and a crumpled paper
bag sitting next to it.  Pulse
racing, she looked at it and noticed that the seal had not bee
n broken on it yet.  It didn’t matter. W
hat was it doing in the house?

“Mikey?”  She set her stuff down and walked to the living room.  He was staring out of the window, his head lowered as he leaned his forehead against the glass.  He didn’t respond to her.  “Mikey, what’s going on?”

He shrugged his shoulders, but still did not make eye contact with her.  Since being with him, she had prepared herself for the bad days that alcoholics went through.  Luckily for their relationship, there hadn’t been many.  She reached out and brushed her hand over his forearm.  “Mike, talk to me, hon.”

E
ven though his gaze was now away from the window, she still couldn’t clear
ly see his eyes.  “Don’t worry.
I didn’t drink any of it.” He buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans.  “If you don’t believe me, just check the bottle,” he said, his voice low.

“I know you didn’t drink any. I believe you.” She stepped closer, taking her time in not wantin
g to overwhelm him.  “I’m assuming that
things at the prison didn’t go well?”

Mikey shook his head no, finally looking directly into her eye.  He looked so exhausted and worn out.  Dark circles were forming under his eyes and his posture was that of a man who had been defeated. 

        “You can talk to me.”

Walking away from the window, he went to the coffee table and sat down, inviting her to sit across from him on the couch.  The
green tint of his pupils weren’t
as bright as usual.

“Not much to talk about, Eva.  I went in there a dumb ass fool.  Again, Viper had the upper hand on me.” He brushed the palm of his hand down his cheek and it sounded like sandpaper.

“What do you mean?” She leaned forward and grabbed his other hand, wrapping her fingers in his. 

“He’s just as arrogant as he was.  But I do have to admit, he spoke some truth.” Pausing, he pulled his hand away from her and stood up.  He started pacing back and forth, a nervous tick she had noticed about him right off the bat.  “He talked about how Casey and I are weak and this whole charade of staying clean is just destined for failure.”

The fact that he couldn’t sit still drove Eva crazy, but she knew she had to allow him to do what he needed to get it all out in the open.  This wasn’t easy for him.  “Those are just words, Mikey. He’s a no good…”

“Just hold on.” He cut her off, holding his hand up to silence her.  “I hate to say this, but I agree with him.  Just his antagonizing alone drove me to get that whiskey today.” He sat on the table again, burying his face in his hands.  “I’m never going to be able to forgive him.  I’m never going to get over this PTSD.  And what’s that all going to lead to in the end? Me drinking myself silly.  You know it, I know it, hell, and even Viper knows it and he’s locked up.”

Eva pulled his hands away from his face and noticed that a few tears were forming in the corners of his eyes.  He looked away in what she thought was an attempt to hide the fact that he was on the verge of crying.  It broke her heart to see him this way.  She was under the assumption that he was handling things pretty well and progressing forward.