The BBQ experienced a roiling reopening. Curious patrons packed inside its walls to see what the place was like under the new ownership. The building trembled from the mass of bodies, filled far beyond its usual occupancy.
Smoke billowed from the roaring fires of the smokehouse in the backyard, cloaking the area in a stench of bodies, sweat, and freshly cooked meat. The morning air brimmed with the chorus of the patrons’ voices and laughter.
A handwritten sign had been hastily taped to the door, announcing the BBQ’s new name: Hari’s Grill. Spade had been surprised that Silas insisted on this name. When Spade had asked who Hari was, Silas vaguely answered, “Someone from the past. He deserves to be honored. It’s the least I can do for him.”
Even Spade, as dense as he could be, caught the wistful note of Silas’s voice. A brother? A friend? A lost lover? The last possibility struck Spade. Silas had never mentioned any lovers, much less men. But what did Spade really know about Silas anyway? For as much as Silas talked, he shared little about himself. Frankly, Spade never cared enough to ask.
Still, it was intriguing. In the Gate, if a man loved another man, he was loath to reveal it. Spade remembered the jibes that the Youths aimed at each other, insults that insinuated the worst about gay men. The worst implication was that gay men were weak; a label Spade certainly didn’t want.
That didn't stop him from eyeing every cute boy that he passed on the street.
From a young age, Spade felt the same desire for men as women. Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to kiss Coren. Not that it would have gone anywhere. Coren had never acted like anything but a friend– a brother, even–and now, Spade doubted if he would ever see Coren again.
Spade had learned enough brutal lessons to understand why he couldn’t be open about what he wanted. There were parts of him that he had to be careful about revealing.
Then, there were other desires: repugnant ones that Spade kept buried deep. They bubbled to the surface only at night, safe in the privacy of his subconscious. He was reminded of a particular memory that his dreams returned to often. A beautiful dead girl, lying on her back by the docks in broad daylight.
The girl had been older than Spade, but in hindsight, not quite an adult. There was no clear indication of how she had died. No bruises, no gashes, not even the discoloration of illness. Her corpse was perfectly intact, as if her soul had suddenly vacated her body without any particular reason.
The light shined on the blue veins lining the dead girl’s pallid skin. The rosy flush of her cheeks turned ashen. Her dark hair was spread around her face like a pillow. It was the last time the girl would ever be so beautiful before the rot set in.
Spade watched from an alley nearby as a group of men arrived to collect the girl’s body, ostensibly to throw it in a corpse cart. Instead, the men marveled at the girl, commenting on her beauty… and touched her. At the time, Spade had been too young to understand what he witnessed, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. The fragile moment was trapped in amber, never far from his mind.
It sickened him. He loathed himself for it, for the mix of revulsion and intrigue the memory wrought. Spade repressed the memory and the feelings that stirred inside of him, but they always found a way to resurface in his darkest dreams. A constant reminder that he could never escape even the worst parts of himself.
A crash snapped Spade’s attention back to the stifling din of Hari’s Grill.
Spade found himself by the back door of the building, only a few feet away from the counter. He had been staring at his feet, ignoring the mob of hungry patrons clustered around the counter.
There weren’t enough tables and stools to go around. The patrons had no choice but to stand or crouch and eat from their laps. Sauce dripped from their fingers and clung to the sticky floor.
Silas lounged at a table scooted close to the counter. His hands were busy, idly flipping through a deck of cards and cutting the deck into aimless piles. He beamed with the pride of a king surveying his newly acquired territory. A trilby cap was perched on his head at a jaunty angle, and he wore a relatively unfrayed vest. This was likely Silas’s idea of dressing nicely for the occasion.
His voice grew hoarser as the morning wore on, since Silas insisted on greeting every customer who received food. He only paused to swig his beer. “Enjoy your food, sir. That’s a great meal you have there, ma’am. Quality guaranteed.”
Spade shot a look at Knight. His brother had been behind the counter serving plates as Savvy prepared food in the kitchen. Now, Knight bent over, clutching a handkerchief to his mouth. The unmistakable sound of phlegm gave away how much the smoke aggravated his lungs. A plastic basket and deli paper were scattered around his feet. The stack of ribs that had been on it was a mess of meat and sauce splattered across the floor.
Savvy swiftly left her duties in the kitchen and grabbed a broom to sweep up the mess. Her apron was stained in soot. “It’s okay, Knight. Clean up and get some fresh air.”
Spade crossed his arms and frowned. How many times had he told Knight not to push himself? It didn’t seem to matter what Spade said. In fact, his admonishments only pushed Knight to want to work in the kitchen more.
Knight weakly lifted his head. “No, I said I’d do this. Somebody has to serve the food.”
“We’ve got it.” Savvy snatched the cleanest rag she could find and started rubbing the stains on Knight’s shirt. “Go get fresh air. Spade or Ashe can step in. Where is Ashe?”
“I saw her leave through the back door,” Knight said. “It was a while ago.”
“Great,” Savvy grumbled. “She’s so lazy. She never helps. More work for me, huh?”
“We can help. Right, Spade?” Knight said.
Spade rolled his eyes. He had no intention of lifting a finger. “No, you can leave with me, Knight. We’ve done enough.”
Savvy’s expression soured. “And what did you do that was so hard?”
It took a lot to get the BBQ, more than Savvy gave him credit for. Spade’s bones still rattled with pain from the beatings he had received. Every morning, he woke up to stiff muscles, and it took hours to shake away the numbness. But he did it. Even Toby the Hound couldn’t keep him down.
Bruises welled along Spade’s shoulders and chest. The older bruises were clusters of fading yellow spots, and the fresher ones were dark purple and brown. The crowning bruise—the one he had received from Toby’s very own bat—sat on the temple of his head, partially covered by his hair.
Spade was surprised Toby’s bat hadn’t knocked him out, but it did jog something in his brain. That was when Spade had decided to stop fist-fighting with Toby and go take what he wanted directly. Spade decided to play smart, like everyone told him he should, instead of acting like a feckless idiot who took too many blows to the head.
By then, everyone in the Gate knew that the feud over the BBQ had ended with Spade’s victory. It was progress. One bruise at a time, Spade steadily ascended the Gate’s criminal ladder. He didn’t need to do dishes and serve plates to prove himself.
The corners of Spade’s lips perked at the memory of Louis. “Take a guess. Why do you think you’re here in the first place?”
“I’m here because I like to cook,” Savvy said, tossing the dirtied rag in a bin. “And you people are going to make everyone sick. Silas left raw meat in the sink overnight. I found it this morning and threw it out.”
Silas spoke up without moving from his seat. “No need to tell everyone that. You’re my kitchen manager now, Sav! And with a salary to match.”
Savvy’s hair started to fall from the barrettes meant to keep it in place, but she had no time to fix it. Savvy blew a strand of red hair out of her face. “We’ll see if you make good on that. You’ve lied before.”
“Man of my word!” Silas opened his arms in a grandiose gesture.
“We’ll see,” she replied, barely concealing her disbelief.
A stout woman violently tapped on the counter, drawing sharp glares from Spade and Savvy. The woman’s hair was in a loose bun, a few curls escaping to frame her furrowed brows.
“That better not be my food on the floor! I’ve been waiting an hour. Hurry up!”
With a stricken expression, Knight stuffed the soiled handkerchief in his pocket and hurried to resume plating food. His hands shook as he grabbed napkins and utensils.
“And stop coughing on it!” The woman barked.
“He’ll get to it!” Savvy snapped from her place in front of the oven. “Take your time, Knight.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m new,” Knight muttered sheepishly. He avoided meeting the woman’s scowl, focused solely on his work. It took all of his concentration not to break out into a new fit of coughing. Soft chirrups from deep in his throat were audible, threatening to erupt into full coughs at any moment.
The woman didn’t bat a lash at Knight’s struggle, her demanding glower never faltering from the boy’s back. She didn’t care that Knight was doing his best. She only cared that she was served next, fuck everything else.
This angered Spade. He did not work his ass off so some lazy bitch could stand in line and bully his brother. Knight should have been lying down in a comfortable spot enjoying the fruits of Spade’s labor. But, no, Knight was here working his fingers raw for ungrateful, foul-mouthed jerks.
Of course, Knight would never stick up for himself. He always wanted to be “helpful” to people, whatever that meant. Leave it to Knight to put himself in a position like this, as if it was his duty to take this shit from people. As if his sickness was something he should be sorry for.
Spade had enough. The searing heat and foul stench swirled in his nostrils, pressing in on him. He inhaled the noxious concoction, breathing it deeply into his lungs, and allowed his rage to simmer. Spade’s eyes narrowed to pinpoints as he watched the woman impatiently goad Knight.
The second Knight set a piping hot plate down on the counter for the woman—full of fatty hash smothered in gravy—Spade snatched the plate and shoved it in the woman’s face. Chunks of hash and gravy dribbled down her surprised visage. The woman fixed her wide eyes on Spade, her mouth gaping and her face red. The mask of slop suited the woman quite well.
“Eat up,” Spade said. “I heard you’re hungry.”
“Spade!” Knight clapped his hands over his mouth in shock.
“That was uncalled for!” Silas stood up forcefully, sending his chair backward. His cap nearly fell off his balding head. “Go outside and cool off, Spade! I don’t want you around the customers. Damn, I should have known better. You’re muscle. You’ve got no business around people.”
Silas immediately set about apologizing and trying to make things right for the woman. Spade didn’t have the stomach to stick around to see how it turned out. He heard the woman’s screaming as an irritating buzz in his ear, not even worth his attention.
Spade tilted his head toward the front door. “Come on, Knight. Let’s get out of here.”
Knight didn’t move. “No! What's wrong with you? That—” A fit of coughing interrupted as Knight doubled over into his handkerchief. Tears welled in his eyes when he finally looked up at Spade. “I didn’t ask you to do that!”
“You don’t need to ask. I’ll help you no matter what.”
“You call that helping? It was fine until you got involved! You never think. Everything’s a reaction for you.”
“We don’t have to take that shit from people,” Spade replied.
“I don't care!!” Knight’s voice rose. “You're only making things harder. I don’t need you to pick fights for me, okay? I can stand on my own.”
“The fuck you can.” Spade pounded his fist on the counter and instantly felt pain shoot through his dry, cracking knuckles. His vision blurred, as if all the head trauma he’d accumulated in the past few weeks came back all at once. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Everyone else seemed to see it, even if he couldn’t. “Fine, figure it out yourself, Knight. I’m done.”
Spade stormed to the backdoor. The murmurs of the crowd surged at his back. His actions excited the patrons, eliciting laughter and gossip. He briefly caught a few words–Dral, the Youths, and Toby–before the door slammed shut behind him.
+++
The penetrating rays of the sun greeted Spade as he stepped into the backyard of Hari’s Grill. The area was covered by sparse patches of grass and dirt. It was encircled by a chain-link fence in need of repair. Entire sections of the fence were torn, opening the yard to the street. Ahead was the smokehouse, whose chimney spewed smoke that joined clouds rolling across the blue expanse of the sky.
Spade squinted, his eyes not yet adjusted to the brightness. This was a different kind of warmth than the oppressive heat he’d been sizzling in for hours. The rays of the sun pleasantly warmed his skin, melting away his cares.
This was the first time Spade had seen the sun that day. The sky had been dark when he had arrived earlier that morning. Spade wouldn’t have bothered to get out of bed so early if not for Knight. Knight had been adamant about helping Silas and Savvy for the opening day, and so Spade showed up to make sure nothing went wrong. Knight could push himself too far, especially when friends were involved.
Fat lot of good that did.
When Spade’s eyes finally adjusted, he took in a sight that struck him. The gleam of Ashe’s light hair in the sunlight. She sat on the edge of the concrete stoop with her legs stretched out, wearing a red top cropped above her navel. Its thin straps fell down her arms–something Spade did not have the common sense not to gawk at. Her shorts and boots were appropriate for the sunny weather and dusty streets.
Ashe regarded him with a smirk. He wondered if she had been watching him the entire time.
“I thought you left,” he said as he took a seat beside her.
She shrugged. “I wanted to see you. You know how hard it is to catch a moment alone together.”
“But you didn’t want to work? Sav is pretty pissed.”
Ashe made a face. “Tell Sav I’m a whore, not a waitress.”
Spade let out a laugh and leaned back on his hands. Ashe’s arm snaked around his, her cheek resting against his shoulder. They sat quietly together for a few minutes, basking in the sun's warmth like two normal teenagers on a normal summer day.
If only that could be their lot in life.
He peeked down to see that Ashe’s eyes were closed. Her breath became low and steady. He thought she might have dozed off.
Spade dared not move. These moments with her were rare and fleeting. He knew it couldn’t last.
Ashe’s eyes fluttered half-open. She spoke in a sleepy murmur. “You smell gross. Like meat.”
“Been around it all day, so I’m not surprised. It’s busy in there.”
“I don’t know why these old guys like this slop so much.” She lifted her chin to peer at him. “Is this what you’ve been fighting Toby over?”
Spade nodded. “Yeah, you can see how that turned out. I’m a pretty big deal now.”
“This is what you’ve been busting your ass for? This dump?” Ashe cackled. “Really?”
“It’s more than that. I got one over on Toby the Hound. People are talking. They’re starting to notice.”
“Oh, I know,” she said. “I keep my ear to the ground. I hear lots of gossip.”
Ashe’s fingers gently traced the bruises on his body, starting at his temple and trailing down his neck, shoulder, and chest. In the wake of her touch, she left pricks of pain. He flinched, realizing that his entire body was practically a giant wound.
Ashe let out a low tsk as she examined the damage exposed from his t-shirt. Spade’s face flushed. Self-consciousness washed over him before settling in his stomach like a heavy stone. He wondered what she thought of him. Did she think he was weak?
“How many times have you been beaten up?” she said with wonder.
“A few.” Spade’s fists clenched slightly at the memory. “But you know how it is. As long as you give better than you get, it’s fine. They knock you down, and you keep going.”
“And keep getting up, you mean,” Ashe said, adding to his sentiment with understanding.
“Yeah. You only lose if you stay down.”
Ashe brushed back his hair, careful not to disturb the bruise on his temple. “This one is nasty. Who gave it to you?”
“Tch. Toby. Old fuck is pretty good with a bat.”
Ashe laughed. “I always heard he could swing a bat! I guess we know now.”
“Oh yeah. Still have a headache from that one.”
“Are you sure you don’t have brain damage?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I have a thick skull.”
“Thick skulls don't mean anything when you take a bat to the head," Ashe scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Eventually it catches up with you.”
“I’m not worried about it,” he said. “I’ll push myself to do what I have to until I can’t anymore.”
With an impish grin, Ashe held up her hand, clearly displaying two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“My head’s fine.” Spade grasped her waist and pulled her closer. Her sweet perfume wafted into his nose. “You smell good. What have you been up to?”
Ashe’s body stiffened against his side. She averted her gaze. Moisture sprang to her eyes before she blinked them away. His question affected her in a way he hadn’t expected.
“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.
The tears were gone. The fear he had seen so clearly disappeared. Ashe buried the feelings with practiced ease, replacing them with a hardened cast.
“I am not pathetic.” Ashe’s words dripped with contempt, as if her bile was directed at someone in particular. It wasn’t hard to guess who.
“I didn’t say you were,” Spade said, confused by the sudden turn. He yearned to take back his words, to reclaim the quiet, happy moment from earlier. But the moment had passed. No words could bring it back.
Spade imagined what her days must have been like while he was wrapped up in the business of the BBQ. He pictured a numbing blur of painful moments, from Charien, to Crow, and her jobs. Ashe hurt as much as Spade, but something deeper than flesh had been injured.
Spade stroked her waist, a motion that was perhaps more soothing to him than anyone else. “It’s a weird feeling.”
“What?”
“Now that everything is done… Louis is taken care of. I showed everyone what I can do. But I don’t feel totally good about it. Like something’s wrong. Something… I don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s guilt,” she said, sounding serious.
Spade considered this. Yes, this was a new perspective, something he hadn’t cared to think about before. Guilt. The word raced in his thoughts. Was that what he felt? Was that the weight on his shoulders?
“Why?” he asked. “What’s to feel bad about?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice dropped to a low, insinuating tone. “Why, did you do something terrible?”
Spade glanced over his shoulder at the ramshackle wall of the BBQ. After the harsh words they had exchanged, Spade left his brother inside. Knight must have been suppressing his coughs at that very moment, putting on a friendly face and serving plates to patrons. But this couldn’t explain the sickening feeling in Spade’s stomach. He and Knight had fought before. Spade knew they would likely make up when they saw each other again.
It was something else. Spade thought about Louis who had died on the ground like a worm. Spineless, greedy, unwilling to make good on his debt when he had been foolish enough to gamble his livelihood away in the first place. Louis died the way he deserved, and Spade didn’t feel bad about it.
So, something else, but what? Had he done something terrible, as Ashe so gleefully suggested?
“Not to anyone who matters,” Spade responded.
“Then you have nothing to feel bad about.”
Spade gazed down at the scuffed toe of his boots. A line of ants marched up the steps of the stoop, slipping underneath the backdoor and into Hari’s Grill. “Have you… have you done anything bad before? Something terrible?”
Ashe snorted, meaning to play his words off. But he could tell he hit the mark, and it bothered her.
“Not to anyone who matters,” she said.
He smiled and stroked her bangs from her forehead. “Then you have nothing to feel bad about.”
Ashe quickly pecked his cheek, her soft lips brushing his skin. He breathed out in surprise, not expecting the sudden touch. Seizing the opportunity, she kissed him on the lips. He fumbled, struggling to keep up, and hoped she didn’t notice his inexperience. He never knew what to do when it came to this sort of thing. All he could do was follow her lead and hope for the best. Luckily, she was pretty good.
Spade’s heart skipped when he saw the lean figure of Toby. Toby stood in a broken section of the chain-link fence, tall metal posts on either side. His freckled skin was blazing white in the sun, his mouth contorted into a deep glower.
To Spade’s relief, Toby appeared empty-handed without a bat in sight. However, this was a small comfort. Toby had already demonstrated that he didn’t need a weapon to stomp Spade into the ground.
Ashe’s smile dropped as she followed Spade’s eyes to the fence.
Toby lurched toward them, his well-defined shoulders sticking out from his sleeveless shirt. Spade glared, as if it was some sort of defense, but he knew it wouldn’t help.
“Celebrating, huh?” Toby set his boot on the edge of the stoop next to where Spade sat. Clumps of red mud caked off the jagged sole. Toby stared down at the two, scrutinizing them with his dark pupils.
Spade grit his teeth, snarling at Toby like a cornered dog. “Until you interrupted. Can’t you fuck off and give me a break?”
Toby shook his head, lips vaguely stretched in what resembled a smile. “Sure, kid. I’m not here to cramp your game.”
“Then what?” Spade demanded.
Toby held out his hand, causing Spade to recoil. But Toby’s fingers weren’t tightened into a fist. Toby’s hand was open, revealing his calloused palm.
“I wanna congratulate you. You bested me,” Toby said, hand hanging in the air. “You know how to shake hands?”
“Yes,” Spade said curtly. He hesitated before clasping palms with Toby. Toby gave him a firm squeeze, the older man’s bony fingers belying their strength.
“What you did was sneaky,” Toby said. “A bit underhanded, going behind my back like that.”
“Sometimes it’s the best way to get things done.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Toby finally broke the handshake, freeing Spade’s hand. Spade drew back and rubbed his sore knuckles.
“What, you’ve never done anything a little sneaky?” Ashe spoke up. She didn’t appear to be afraid of Toby, her question almost a challenge. She was used to facing down monsters.
“Heh, guess not.” Toby sounded more amused than offended. “Not how I do things typically. You should remember, though, that his old dog has a few tricks up his sleeves. See ya, kid.”
Toby turned to slink back through the fence, leaving the way he came. Spade exhaled. His tense muscles eased and his jaw unclenched now that it was clear there wouldn’t be a fight. The danger was gone, although Spade’s heart continued to thump against his chest.
“He’s mad, isn’t he?” Spade said.
Ashe nodded. “Why wouldn’t he? You got him, Spade. Everyone thinks he’s lost his touch, letting someone like you best him.”
“I didn’t best him. He’s still walking around. Fuck, maybe I need to kill him.”
“Oh, you did something worse. You humiliated him.” She kicked her feet, digging her boot into the dirt, acting unconcerned.
“He’ll get me for this. This will bite me in the ass.”
Ashe pressed her lips against his neck, resuming their earlier activities. She knew how to break him out of these ruts. “Enjoy the victories. Worry about the rest later.”
Spade succumbed to the pleasure of Ashe’s company, drawing her in for another long kiss. But something didn’t feel right to him. He knew this couldn’t be the end of it. One didn’t cross someone like Toby and not get burned. At least, that’s what everyone said about Toby when he was younger, but Toby was old now. Perhaps age tempered his pride and thirst for vengeance.
As the kisses progressed, Spade found himself caring less and less.
Savor the victory and worry about the rest later.
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