Mr. Borson lounged in his study, puffing on his cigar. He liked these moments of peace, when the smoke coalesced with the rest of his lavish interior. It gave him clarity to reflect on all the things he had accomplished. For instance, that one time when -
The door smashed open. "Boss! We got a problem." Letting in a harried Tommy. "Slick's been shot."
"Goddamnit Tommy!" Borson nearly knocked over his wife's lovely portrait. He exhaled, calming himself. He absent-mindedly took a book off the desk. "God. Fucking. Damn it, Tommy!"
Tommy ducked the book with practised ease. "Boss! We did everything you asked. But that weasel Jenkins decided he had a better idea. I told him, I-"
"This was your responsibility, Tommy! Yours! Not Slick's, not Jenkins'. Yours!"
Tommy's only response was an audible gulp. Mr. Borson sighed, ran his withered hand through his wispy hair, surprised at how little of it there was. Always surprised. He gestured for Tommy to return the discarded book. He did, silent and obedient. Good lad.
"Will Slick make it?" Tommy nodded. "Is it bad?" Tommy nodded. "How bad?"
"He lost his nose. And... his left eyebrow won't grow back." Tommy was studying the elaborate rug pattern with astounding curiosity.
"Not good that." Mr. Borson leaned back in his chair. "We'll have to retaliate. You see, Tommy? This is why I don't give you more responsibility, you see?" Tommy nodded, good lad. "Get out, and take the book with you, might learn something."
"Yes, boss." The book was called: The Life and Times of a Failed Mobster. Funny and educational.
Borson took a puff from his cigar . Retaliation for Slick, huh, I remember when he was still in diapers... Another puff. And another. His wife's portrait seemed to stare daggers at him. "Not you too, Meredith! Don't give me that look!" The picture on his desk said nothing. "You're right, of course, you're always right. Wish... wish you were here to talk some sense into me. And not... and not..."
There was no retirement plan for people like him. He would have to see this through. How many times had he retaliated though? That time in '79 was dicey. The memories started flowing back, fast and willing. His study did that to him. He loved it here, allowed him to recollect -
"Boss!" It was Jenkins with a gun in his hand. "Tommy's gon' off the deep end!"
Jenkins wasn't as practiced as Tommy, as such, the book hit him square in the face. "Morons! What now?"
"He was talkin' somethin' like 'an eye for an eye'. He's gone with Slick's lil bro and a coupe -" Jenkins was rubbing his face, so he couldn't anticipate the second book hitting him in the forehead.
"I'm surrounded by incompetence! Straighten up, man! It's only a book. What did Tommy say?"
"Somethin' about makin' you proud." Jenkins picked up the two books, placing them on the desk. "Said he wasn't gon' repeat the same mistake."
Mr. Borson groaned, hands massaging his face, then its sides, then his temple. "This family will be the death of me...Imagine that! The first made man dying of stress. I'll be remembered in history, Jenkins!" Jenkins, wisely, held his mouth shut. "Death. That's all it is. Death and more death. When will we live?" Silence.
"Alright. Alright." Borson clasped his hands. "Take the lads from down under and follow Slick. You are to assist him, got it? He made the choice, you will assist him."
"But, boss, I'm superior in -"
"You're superior in nothing!" Mr. Borson's voice was like a whip. "He had the balls to go out, now you'll have the balls to follow. Understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"And take this one, might do you some good." Borson handed over his copy of 'He Who Flew to Close to the Sun'. He thought it apt. Jenkins took it without looking and left.
As he sat, dejected and tired, the prospect of retirement seemed traitorously appealing. Retire where? You fool... The old guard was gone. He was left with adrenaline filled monkeys that understood nothing of honor. They thought they did, but they were just leaves in the wind. Letting their passions get the better of them.
Teach them. Meredith had told him when she was by his side. "I can't. I've tried." He puffed, slow and methodical as he enjoyed the taste. I've failed.
When he came to work this morning he thought it would be a normal day. Expectations always find a way to kick you in the balls. Now? Chaos. Chaos and stupidity. Did he really deserve this? He gave back to the community, he helped those in need. He was as decent a person as could be made in this cursed world. Why, back in '74 his old man told him -
The door slammed open again. Mr. Borson took out the glock from his top drawer. "I just wanted a little peace and quiet to reconcile, is that too much to ask? Step through you motherfcuker, step inside and let me see -"
In came a woman with a blond bun, round face, and a puffy mouthed scowl. Borson's cigar fell on the carpet as he stood. "Meredith!"
"Don't Meredith me you hopeless looser! This how you treat your guests? With a gun to their face."
Mr. Borson threw the thing away as he embraced his unsuspecting wife. "Oh, Meredith! You came back! I thought... I thought I lost you forever..."
"Well..." She returned the embrace. "I must say, you gave the desired reaction."
He kissed her with the passion of a lost lover. "You're staying, then?"
"No. I'm leaving." Her eyes said she was determined. "And...I'm taking you with me..."
"Meredith..."
"Come with me, John! Please! My father says he has a place in Cuba for us. No one will bother us. We can have the life we always wanted..."
"In Cuba?" Borson's tone was incredulous. "Your dad?"
"You don't want to?"
"I..." Don't be a fool, she came back. "More than anything."
"But?"
"A war just started, I have to be by my soldiers side or -"
She untangled herself from his grip, eyes watering. "There's always a war! There will always be a war! Is that all life is to you, John? Death? How about you live for once... take time to enjoy yourself, and reflect on what you've accomplished."
For the first time in a long time, Mr. Borson could feel a lump forming in his throat. God, he had missed her. "Cuba, you say?"
She turned around, beaming. "Yes!"
"It's not in Havana, right?" She shook her head. "Because you know I hate, Havana. And also I want assurances that my men -"
She kisssed him like it was their first time. And Borson forgot what he was about to say.
A fun little rump with a bunch of implications. 😁 This one leaned more comedic than I intended, but I think it worked well in the end. Of course, you guys will be the judge of that.
Obligatory shout-out to the 🍕PIZZA🍕 gang, 🤙 gang. 🤙
Image source.
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Have a great start to your week! 🙌
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