Fireworks At Christmas Joe Castalino was in a shopping mall somewhere in Pascadena. The Christmas season always put him in a good mood. He saw the children sitting on the lap of the mall Santa and smiled. Damn, he thought, Christmas is always an awesome holiday. Everyone is so happy and naïve, and there are presents and food and in his case, fireworks. Ever since Joe was young, he’d been somewhat of a pyromaniac. Fireworks at Christmas and New Years in Tahoe, where his family traditionally went for the holidays, had been his best memories of the season in his younger years. The greens and blues, the silvers and gold. They always lit up the night sky with their colors as the snow fell, adding the white background to the canvas of the sky. It was truly a beautiful thing to watch. This year, he had a girlfriend for which he could spend the Christmas holidays. He would come to Tahoe with him for Christmas this year, so he could make the introductions to his family and enjoy her company during this, his most favorite time of the year. He hoped she will enjoy herself on this trip. She was walking around the mall with him, be had stopped in a lingerie shop to buy a “present” for him. It was well, because. Because she could do things like this, and wanted to make Joe happy. That was all she cared about now, was his happiness. Nothing else mattered to her but his happiness. No matter what she had to spend or do, she wanted him to be happy. She loved Joe so much, it hurt her sometimes. She worked, as far as Joe could figure out, as an agent for actors and actresses in the movie industry. Her cell phone was always ringing, and she’d most of the time start yelling at one person or the next. But, she made good money, and she was happy with her life. She wanted to buy him a “present”. She was entitled to do so. He walked past a clothing store, looking at the window. He stared intently into the glass, thinking: is this what I’m supposed to look like as a man? Look at these Khakis, they’re pitiful! And that shirt… actually that’s not a bad looking shirt. I should go try it on. So he went inside this trendy clothing store, looking at some jeans and shirts for the trip. He needed some new sweaters too, and maybe a hooded sweatshirt. The hell with it, he thought, it’s not like I’m poor. Although Joe didn’t know it, Caroline had bought what she wanted and had found him browsing in this particular store. She casually walked in, moving in a wide circle around him so as to not distract him and make her presence known. She decided that she would come up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, slipping her hand inside of his pants. That would pain the message clear that she wanted to go home. She wanted to tickle him as well. She knew that he was ticklish. Like a little girl. When she grabbed him from behind, slipping her hand southward, the first thing he did was go for his gun concealed in the small of his back hidden underneath his jacket. Even though it wasn’t very cold, he wore a jacket over a button up collar shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wouldn’t be for long though, because for L.A., Christmas was going to be cold this year. He turned around, hand on his gun and saw who had grabbed him. He took his hand off his gun, and casually planted it on her ass. “Fuck honey, you scared the shit out of me.” “Mhmm. Whatcha packin’ there tex?” “Nothin’ but my dick.” “Sure there, pretty boy.” She reached around his back and felt the holster, and the barrel of the gun. The chambers. “Aaahhh, I see what this is, a revolver.” “Not just a revolver honey, it’s a .357 Magnum. Smith and Wesson to be exact. Four inch barrel.” “At least it’s longer than your dick.” “Fuck you.” “Mmmm, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” “You might not want to get me started dear, you know, since we can’t finish it here.” “I was thinking,” she said, “That you could go try those clothes in your hand on, and then we could grab them and go back home. Grab some Chinese on the way, and a movie…” “What kind of movie?” “The good kind.” “That’s a little vague honey. I mean, we could get a porno, but then that would make me feel a bit awkward. “ “But honey, I want to get one. They make me feel so hot!” She said this while stretching, so that her breasts were pressed together while she ran her hands through her long blond hair. She knew this would drive him wild, and that he couldn’t resist anything she requested. So he stood there, listening to her moaning a bit as she rubbed crotch up and down his leg. He stood there, in a store, watching her do this to herself, while couples were shopping for clothes. And then, he began to think about something. He began to think about the couples shopping for clothes together, and how it reminded him of when he was a kid shopping with his mom for clothes. How she would always pick out the suits he wore to church, the shirts and pants he wore to school. The shoes. His mother was extremely controlling. She wouldn’t let him wear boxers until he was sixteen. By then, he was having sex every night, but his mother would have a stroke if she found out he even thought about owning a pair of boxers. And he sat there and thought, the women we love like to dress us like they are our mothers and were ten years old again. It’s funny when you think about it, but that’s exactly what’s happening to men. I mean, look at that couple over there. The guy isn’t even picking out the clothing, he’s following her lead. She looks at a t-shirt, and decides if he’ll compliment her style in it. Everything is always about the woman. But then again, the sex is good. He didn’t notice, but she’d stopped trying to get herself off by rubbing her crotch on his leg. She stood there, looking at him. She was staring at him, and trying to figure out what he was thinking. She couldn’t do it quite yet, but he knew in a matter of time she would figure him out down to the lower case j. “Joe Honey, are you okay?” she asked him, looking into his eyes intently. “Yeah Caroline, I’m okay.” “Good, now go try those clothes on. I’m hungry and horny, and you aren’t helping the situation at all by stalling. So go.” “I’m not ready to go ye-“ he said, but she cut him off before he could get the last syllable out. “Get yourself in that dressing room now.” I knew it, he thought, that’s why women like to shop with their men. So they can dress them. We’re supposed to be like little baby dolls or something. Damn, I feel so used. “Yes Mother.” “Bite me, hard.” “I will when I get back out.” “I’ll be waiting.” “I know you will.” He walked back into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him. He tried on a sweater and a pair of khaki pants first, and suddenly his phone rang. He bent over on the floor, cussing a bit under his breath. Then he realized that it wasn’t his regular phone that was ringing, but the safe phone. I thought I left that in the car, he said to himself, but then remembered that when he met Caroline here that he’d brought it with him just in case Roger called. They had both been laying low since Smith and Jones were killed, and he didn’t want to tempt fate. So he dug into his jeans pocket, fishing out the small flip phone. Pulling it out to look at the caller ID, he noticed that it was a number he’d never seen before, and he was inclined not to pick it up. But he thought about it and decided that Roger had probably gotten a new phone since the last time they were in the same place. So, he answered. “Hello?” “Hello Joe.” He paused, not recognizing the voice immediately, but then realizing who it is. He decided that he was going to have a little fun with Mary’s boyfriend. The cuntbag. “Who is this?” He asked, playfully. “Joe, don’t play dumb. You don’t think that I know where you are right now? That I haven’t been watching you all day? And that, at this immediate moment, I don’t know that you’re in a dressing room in that god awful trendy clothing store? I thought you had better taste than that my friend.” “Fuck you,” Joe replied. His plan had backfired. “The Sweater and Khakis look good?” Joe began to panic. How does he know all this? There aren’t security cameras in the dressing room for him to tap into. Even so, it’d be a big problem. Fucking hell, this guy is good. “What do you want?” Joe asked him, knowing the answer. “Oh, I just want you dead Joe. Just like Smith, Jones, Woody Dean, and my girlfriend. I want you to join the waiting list in the queue to hell my friend. The devil’s going to be very busy down in Georgia this year.” “Look, if you think you’re going to kill me as easily as you did Smith and Jones, you’ve got another thing coming. Don’t you know who I’m related to?” “AND DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I’M RELATED TO!” The Boyfriend shouted. “I Loved her, more than you can EVER KNOW!” Joe kept from shouting back how his girlfriend was a little cunt, and how he did him a favor by killing her. And how good she was when he raped her. But Joe didn’t want to tempt fate that much. The boyfriend took a few deep breaths in the phone, and calmed himself. “So Joe, do you have anything you want to say to me?” “Fuck you, that’s what I have to say.” “Well, have it your way then. I’ll be seeing you real soon buddy. Real soon.” And then, the Boyfriend hung up. Joe calmly sat for a moment on the bench in the small cubicle of a dressing room, and then looked at the wall. There was a mirror, and he was looking at himself. I used to be such a nice guy, he thought to himself. And then, he took the phone and began to call Roger. He needed to talk to Roger most of all. * * * Joe is smart, the boyfriend thought, but not that smart. He’ll use his phone again to call Roger. And then I’ll have both of them. But Roger will be harder. He’ll not use that phone again. He’ll have a clean one to start out with. These guys are just like me, they know how to play the game. This, to the Boyfriend is really all it came down to, the game. The killing game is one of the worst games you can play against someone, because you don’t know if you’re going to win or lose. But you do know one thing. If you’re smart enough, fast enough, and strong enough, you can do anything. You can literally kill anyone and get away with it. You can walk away from a killing, a public killing, scott free. So therefore, Joe had to die. He’d won a battle in this war, but he was about to become the next casualty. So, in this game, the Boyfriend was about to even up the odds a little bit. Underneath Joe Castalino’s new car was planted a very small portion of plastic explosive called C4. Attached to that was an electronic radio signal detonator. All the Boyfriend had to do was stand back and press a button. The explosives would blow up the gas tank, and in turn that would blow up the car, and probably surrounding cars as well. So there were some innocent people that became casualties every now and then, but for this killing, it was a price that he was willing to pay. The Boyfriend sat in the car, waiting for Joe and the girl he was with to come out of the mall towards his car. They’d met each other there, but he knew they would be going home together. The girl in her car, parked underneath his in the parking garage, and Joe in his car. So he waited, and waited for them to come outside. And then, as if that particular moment demanded that they would enter the scene, they came outside. * * * Joe and Caroline walked out of the mall, hand in hand, quickly and eagerly. They both had shopping bags in their other hands, but they were still holding onto each other like lovers do. Joe unlocked his car with the remote on his keychain, unaware of his fate to come. He then slowed down as he approached the car, and suddenly realized why the Boyfriend had called. He knew his fate. “Caroline, where’s your car?” “Over there in the parking garage.” “You want to meet me back at the house? I have a stop to make before coming home and you should probably have your car handy just in case. A friend called me while I was trying these on,” he signaled with his bag by holding it up, and then continued, “and he wants me to come over and help him with something.” “Sure hon, I’ll see you in a few.” “You gonna stop and get the food and movie?” “I was going to wait until you got home, but I guess I can go ahead and pick up food and a movie for us to enjoy together. Although, I’m not exactly sure how much of it we’ll watch,” she stepped to him as she said this last line, and kissed him passionately. She then stepped back after their kiss, and began to walk towards her car. “Caroline,” Joe said, stopping her from walking away completely. “Yes?” she asked, turning towards him, looking deeply into his eyes as he looked at her. “I love you.” Joe then walked up to Caroline, and took her into his arms and kissed her. She pushed him back up against the car, wanting to make love to him in the parking lot right then and there. He stopped her from unzipping his pants. “I’ll see you in an hour honey.” “Mmmm, I can’t wait,” she said, seductively. He got into his car, starting it. So far there was no sign of the masked marauder. She was walking away from the car, he saw her in the rearview mirror almost away from his car by a row. Then, as if the irony had a sense of humor, and he thought he would be okay, his car exploded. The last thought in his mind was ‘remember Joe, fireworks at Christmas are fun!’ The force of the blast completely knocked her down, and blown out the windows in a 200 foot radius of his car. There were shards of glass everywhere on the ground around her. Glass was flying in every direction, raining down on top of her head and back. She tried to get up, but the wind had been knocked out of her. Suddenly, she realized what had happened. Joe was in that car. And that car just exploded. Therefore, Joe was dead. And she began to scream hysterically. All she screamed was his name. A few minutes later after the heat of the fire had caused the two damaged cars beside Joe’s to explode as well, the fire department made it to the mall. Three fire trucks, and ambulances, and the police all came to the scene. In all, six people had minor injuries, three cars had blown up, twenty-two cars had their windows blown out. It was as if a little bit of the resurrection had come to visit the local mall. Some people called it terrorism; others called it a dirty cop getting what was coming to him. Either way, Joe was dead. And in a way, Caroline was as well. After she had been sedated by the paramedics to get her from screaming, and after two days in the hospital, she felt the pain of his loss inside her. * * * Before the explosion and after the boyfriend called Joe, Joe decided while he was still in the dressing room to call Roger and let him know what just happened. Roger was on the couch in his house, napping in front of the television. He was taking his month of time off for Christmas, the first Christmas vacation he’d had in ten years. He was owed a nap during Christmas this year, and fuck everyone if he wasn’t going to get it. His safe phone rang and rang as he lay there. He finally stirred from his slumber and picked up the phone off the coffee table. He recognized the number because he was the one who had programmed it in a while back when he handed Joe his safe phone. They both had the same type of phone. He answered the phone, and Joe began to ramble. “Slow down Joe, I was just asleep.” “Roger,” Joe said quickly, “he found us. He just got off the fucking phone with me! I’m only going to be on for another minute. I don’t think this phone is clean. Call the Frenchman and the Chief.” “Who are you talking about?” Roger asked, still groggy from his nap. “You know who. The man who shot our friends.” “Oh fuck….” Roger replied, suddenly awake but shocked they had been tracked down so easily. Roger then began to give Joe some instructions “I’m hanging up now. Throw the phone away when I get off. In fact, destroy it if you can. He’s got some way of tracking us down we don’t know about. Call me in about an hour from your home phone, and I’ll tell you where we can get in contact tomorrow.” “Will do.” “I’ll make arrangements.” “Roger,” Joe began. “Yes Joe?” “If something happens, it’s been a pleasure being your friend and partner.” “Don’t talk like that. Talk to you in an hour.” “Bye Roger.” “Later Joe.” They both hung up. Roger took the phone and went outside with a hammer into the back yard. He took the battery off the back, knowing that if he got the acid on him it would burn like hell when it busted. He took the large sledgehammer he had and busted the phone up. He bent down and picked up the pieces of the phone off the ground, and threw them in the trash. “I didn’t like that damn phone anyways,” Roger said to himself. He walked back inside and got out a new phone from a box he kept for such emergencies. He also grabbed a clean gun, a SIG P226 9mm. Then he turned on the new phone, fully charged. And he made his phone call. He called the Frenchman.
Copyright © 2004 Kevin Myrick |