Read Online (2012) Blood on Blood by Frank Zafiro - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Frank Zafiro
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Ma?”
“No.”
“Aunt Alina maybe?”
I shook my head.
Jerzy frowned. “They should be here.”
I wondered why he hadn’t stopped and picked up his mother, but I didn’t bother asking. Jerzy does what Jerzy does. You try to figure it out, you’ll go crazy.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, something he always used to do when he was anxious. It was an old tic he’d had since we were young. I wondered if he were even aware that he did it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Huh?”
“Something’s wrong.”
He fixed me with a hard stare. “No shit, Hero. Dad’s dying.”
I didn’t reply.
“Look,” he said. “I’m going back. If you want to see him before…” he paused and swallowed. “If you want to see him again, you should come, too.”
“Okay.”
We walked back down the hallway to the hospital bay. As we passed the nurse at his station, Jerzy growled an insult at him. The hate that came off my brother was palpable, but I knew it wasn’t even really directed at the nurse. I mean, in a way it was, but mostly it was just being directed at everything and the poor guy happened to be part of everything.
Jerzy pulled aside the curtain and we stood side by side next to the old man’s pillow. He looked up at us. A tired, cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“My boys,” he rasped.
“Yeah, Dad,” Jerzy said. “We’re here.”
I said nothing.
His gaze went back and forth between us. He took a shallow breath and exhaled. The stale odor of his breath washed over us.
“Not much time,” he said. His ragged whisper had a mixture of hate and regret in it. “You think you have all the time in the world, but you don’t, boys. You understand?”
“Yeah,” Jerzy said. “We understand.”
“Death is a bitch,” he said. “She’s a conniving bitch and she comes for all of us.”
“Bitches ruin everything,” Jerzy said.
The old man smiled a little. “You know why I’m here?” he asked us. “You know the job?”
“The stick-up bullshit they framed you for?” Jerzy asked.
The old man raised his hand off the blanket slightly and waved Jerzy’s words away. “No. Before that.”
I thought about it for a second, but Jerzy was quicker. “The museum thing? With the diamonds?”
The old man’s eyes shined a little. “That’s it.”
I remembered, although it was all rumors and street legends. The old man and two of his running buddies supposedly caught a courier between the airport and the museum while he was delivering some jewelry. A necklace and earring set. They belong to some Polish or Hungarian duchess or something. Supposedly a big score, and the reason he blew town before getting popped in Wisconsin for the convenience store robbery.
“What about it?” Jerzy asked.
“It’s true.”
“No shit? Good for you, Dad.”
He shook his head slightly. “Bastards double crossed me on the necklace.”
“Who?” Jerzy asked, his voice gruff. “I’ll fucking kill those motherfuckers.”
“Jimmy and Speedo.”
“They’re dead,” Jerzy said. “Count on it.”
“They got the necklace,” the old man said and coughed for a long while. Jerzy just stared at him. I could feel impatience rolling off of him in waves.
I grabbed a few tissues from the bedside table and wiped the chunky spittle from the old man’s lips. He tried to hit my hand away but could only manage to lift it and let it fall back to his side.
“Goddamnit,” he wheezed. “Listen.”
I dropped the used tissue on the table and listened.
“Go ahead, Dad,” Jerzy said. “I’m listening.”
“They got the necklace.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
He coughed again, then continued. “Just…the necklace.”
Both Jerzy and I were silent with understanding. The old man got the diamond earrings. He still had them. Somewhere.
“I left something for you,” he said. His eyes went back and forth between us. “Both of you. My legacy. Your birthright.”
“Where, Dad?” Jerzy’s voice
“No.”
“Aunt Alina maybe?”
I shook my head.
Jerzy frowned. “They should be here.”
I wondered why he hadn’t stopped and picked up his mother, but I didn’t bother asking. Jerzy does what Jerzy does. You try to figure it out, you’ll go crazy.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, something he always used to do when he was anxious. It was an old tic he’d had since we were young. I wondered if he were even aware that he did it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Huh?”
“Something’s wrong.”
He fixed me with a hard stare. “No shit, Hero. Dad’s dying.”
I didn’t reply.
“Look,” he said. “I’m going back. If you want to see him before…” he paused and swallowed. “If you want to see him again, you should come, too.”
“Okay.”
We walked back down the hallway to the hospital bay. As we passed the nurse at his station, Jerzy growled an insult at him. The hate that came off my brother was palpable, but I knew it wasn’t even really directed at the nurse. I mean, in a way it was, but mostly it was just being directed at everything and the poor guy happened to be part of everything.
Jerzy pulled aside the curtain and we stood side by side next to the old man’s pillow. He looked up at us. A tired, cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“My boys,” he rasped.
“Yeah, Dad,” Jerzy said. “We’re here.”
I said nothing.
His gaze went back and forth between us. He took a shallow breath and exhaled. The stale odor of his breath washed over us.
“Not much time,” he said. His ragged whisper had a mixture of hate and regret in it. “You think you have all the time in the world, but you don’t, boys. You understand?”
“Yeah,” Jerzy said. “We understand.”
“Death is a bitch,” he said. “She’s a conniving bitch and she comes for all of us.”
“Bitches ruin everything,” Jerzy said.
The old man smiled a little. “You know why I’m here?” he asked us. “You know the job?”
“The stick-up bullshit they framed you for?” Jerzy asked.
The old man raised his hand off the blanket slightly and waved Jerzy’s words away. “No. Before that.”
I thought about it for a second, but Jerzy was quicker. “The museum thing? With the diamonds?”
The old man’s eyes shined a little. “That’s it.”
I remembered, although it was all rumors and street legends. The old man and two of his running buddies supposedly caught a courier between the airport and the museum while he was delivering some jewelry. A necklace and earring set. They belong to some Polish or Hungarian duchess or something. Supposedly a big score, and the reason he blew town before getting popped in Wisconsin for the convenience store robbery.
“What about it?” Jerzy asked.
“It’s true.”
“No shit? Good for you, Dad.”
He shook his head slightly. “Bastards double crossed me on the necklace.”
“Who?” Jerzy asked, his voice gruff. “I’ll fucking kill those motherfuckers.”
“Jimmy and Speedo.”
“They’re dead,” Jerzy said. “Count on it.”
“They got the necklace,” the old man said and coughed for a long while. Jerzy just stared at him. I could feel impatience rolling off of him in waves.
I grabbed a few tissues from the bedside table and wiped the chunky spittle from the old man’s lips. He tried to hit my hand away but could only manage to lift it and let it fall back to his side.
“Goddamnit,” he wheezed. “Listen.”
I dropped the used tissue on the table and listened.
“Go ahead, Dad,” Jerzy said. “I’m listening.”
“They got the necklace.”
“Yeah, you said that.”
He coughed again, then continued. “Just…the necklace.”
Both Jerzy and I were silent with understanding. The old man got the diamond earrings. He still had them. Somewhere.
“I left something for you,” he said. His eyes went back and forth between us. “Both of you. My legacy. Your birthright.”
“Where, Dad?” Jerzy’s voice
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