Life for Hire [♠]

[Piers (DELETED 6390)]

Piers had just celebrated his twenty-second birthday, a yearly reminder that he’d done nothing with his life. He spent his birthday holed up in his apartment with a six-pack of beer, two bottles of whiskey, and a stack of dirty magazines. Happy Birthday to him. Halfway through the celebration, he heard gunshots outside of his apartment, followed by shouting and slamming doors. A car peeled out of the parking lot and took off down the road, leaving long black outlines of the vehicle’s tires.

Everyone in the city knew about the crime rate. Piers had family that wanted him to move out of his shitty neighborhood and into a better, classier district, but he held firm. Living in Newborough gave him access to the best places. Drug violence meant good business to him. Not long after the commotion, he had a knock at his door. The cops followed him around like flies; the officers clung to the fact that he had priors related to possession and distribution. He became a sort of whipping boy to the law enforcement of Harper Rock, so he made it harder for them to get what they wanted. He refused to be a narc and he refused to be the fall guy.

“Mr. Daugherty? We heard reports of gunfire.” Officer Hayes was on the scene.

Piers thought about ignoring the knocking, but he knew the man would keep it up until he garnered a response. After another round of loud knocking, Piers lowered his recliner and left the comfort of his living room to answer the door. Without the door between them, the two men stared one another down. Piers had a blank expression, his typical poker face, while Hayes had a smug little smile planted on his pockmarked face.

Piers rested the side of his sock-clad left foot against the bottom of his door, keeping it from closing in the officer’s face, and crossed his arms over his chest. The hallway had a nasty draft. Piers had intended on remaining in his comfy apartment, so his sleeveless black t-shirt did nothing to protect his chilled arms. His body language served a dual purpose, since he tried retaining body heart and intimidating the policeman.

“No gunfire here. I’m just wanking it to reruns of Friends,” Piers finally replied, his demeanor changing to match the underlying irritation in his tone. Officer Hayes laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling to show his true age, and then he placed his palm flat against Piers’ door.

“Listen here,” Officer Hayes began, all remnants of his jovial attitude gone, “I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. You’re working for someone with enough cash and enough ties to get you out of jail, but don’t let it go to your head. You step one toe out of line and you’re mine. In fact, I’m waiting for it. I’m betting on it.”

Piers leaned in so that the two of them were mere inches apart. Narrowing his blue eyes, he uncrossed his arms and stood up to his full height of six feet. He seemed to dwarf the smaller man, since officer Hayes was a short and chubby fellow. Their staring contest had such venom that Piers considered taking his gun out right there and putting a bullet between the aging man’s eyes.

“Get your ******* hand off my door before I take it off my door,” Piers growled. He didn’t really care about the officer’s hand or the way the other man seemed to be just close enough to peer into the apartment. Piers just hated the guy. Hayes had been the arresting officer on multiple counts. Piers still had the scars from the bullet wounds. Apparently, Hayes had quite the trigger finger.

“Is that a threat, kid? You threatening me?” Hayes moved his free hand toward his belt, ready to grab at his police-issued handgun. His other hand remained firm against the apartment door. He was taunting Piers, baiting the younger man. Before either of them could make a more serious move, the police walkie went off with static and then dispatch called for backup at a nearby warehouse. The suspects had been found and handcuffed.

“Look at that. It wasn’t me after all. It was nice of you to stop by, Frank. Let’s not do it again.” Piers didn’t wait for the officer to move. He took the moment of distraction to slam his apartment door in the man’s face. There was a thump as the wood connected with the officer’s foot, followed by a string of curse words.

After that interruption, Piers forgot all about his private birthday. He started cleaning up the empty cans, cups, and bottles, and then he moved onto a once-over with the duster. Before he had time to finish organizing his living room, he got a call on his prepaid cell phone. The guys taken from the warehouse worked for his boss. He had to make a special trip to Honeymead to finish up their work: He had no idea what his boss meant when using the vague word (“work”), but he didn’t ask any questions. Piers pulled on his worn combat boots and he was gone.