We Are Both In The Dirt Ch. 13

"For some reason, I think of my mother whenever we finish making love," Mira says. Mint stands, stretches, ponders her statement. He can see it, she's never quite detached herself from her parent's expectations like a well-adjusted adult, after all. When they first started robbing banks she would always fall into melancholy for weeks after the job, pondering what they would think of the things she'd done. Unlike Mira, he feels no form of guilt about his actions as he knows that any illegal, immoral act he commits will only be followed by more of the same. For him, harboring guilt for acts he has no intention of ceasing is tantamount to insanity.

"Don't tell us something like that right after," Mandrake says. Mint jumps in the shower, watches the two of them through the transparent shower door before the steam obscures the image of their entwined bodies, a cigarette being passed between them.

"Hey I'm going to link up with Delray and flush out Michigan Mike," Mint says suddenly into the steamy air. He hadn't known he was going to speak, and now that he has he can't do anything else but think about what he'd said. Neither of them answer, but soon Mira is stepping into the shower with him.

"We'll all go," Mira says.

"You have a concussion, Mira, you're not doing it."

"I have to, Mint, it's my fault."

"Yeah well--you were only stealing back what Montana stole from us. I would've done the same thing if I'd not been in prison."

"I would have just killed him," Mandrake says from the other side of the shower door.

"No, you don't understand, Montana never stole our take. He never touched it."

"Peculiar, because that's the exact opposite of what you told us. Explain this a little more," Mint says, his stomach feeling unsteady. He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower. He shrugs on a robe and picks up his cigar case from the night stand. Whatever she is about to say will, he is sure, put things into perspective.

"You know I'm--skittish with violence."

"Since when? " Mandrake snorts.

"I know how I used to be, but lately it hall has become a bit, much. Seeing all the shit Montana's laid in his wake, I'm starting to develop a severe aversion to it all."

"I am thoroughly desensitized," Mint says, though this is not entirely true. He believes his heightened aggression, lack of squeamishness is an amplified expression of normal human anger and thirst for revenge. When someone wrongs him he has no issue doling out whatever sort of attack he see fit, up to and including murder....however...to his knowledge he'd never harmed an innocent man and his knowledge in this field is vast.

"Iceman!" Mandrake hisses.

"Listen, I couldn't just shoot him. I couldn't walk up and shoot him. I don't have the stomach. And I've got a clean record and I'll do anything to keep it that way. You both need me to stay that way. A murder charge is not an option. So I did the only thing I could think of."

"You obviously didn't kill him, so spit it out," Mandrake says.

"Mandrake, your razor sharp wit is always appreciated, but pipe down," Mira says. "I fed Montana sleeping pills and hired a guy to drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head."

"Drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head," Mandrake repeats.

"That's what she said," Mint says. His mind is racing, but he is calm when he addresses her.

"Who did you hire?" He asks. He finally lights his cigar, and tries to keep his mind completely blank as he knows this is the last moment of peace he will have. Whatever the name is, they're fucked. He can almost see the end, every detail fleshed out brilliantly by their many missteps.

"Mayven Mikowski."

"M&M." Mandrake says.

"You sent that shockingly astute psychopath and Montana is still alive? Doesn't sit well with me. Montana is a desperate coward which gives him a little bit of an edge, but he's still no match for Mikowski. There's got to be more to it, Mira. How did Mikowski say it happened?"

"He didn't. I haven't talked to him since all of this started."

"So, we going to see Mikowski?" Mandrake asks. He throws on his clothes and jingles the car keys in his hand, a man of action.

"Mira, I cannot express to you how much having that information days ago would have helped us. Why lie?" Mint asks.

"I didn't need to tell you...I didn't want to worry you...I thought I'd take care of it myself? One of those? A bit of all of them? Plus I tried to tell you a few times times. I figured it didn't matter in the scheme of things."

"Well if it matters nowhere else, Mira, it matters in this scheme of things. Not only have you robbed him, generally unprovoked, you tried to kill him. And just what part does he think me and my brother played in this little plot?"

"What's it matter what part he thinks we played? We're in it now. And I know that if we'd ever found out that Montana was trying to off Mira we'd kill him no matter the reason," Mandrake says.

"Without a doubt, Mandrake. I'm just trying to sort out this lie. Give me a second," Mint holds up a finger and raises his voice slightly. Mira slides on a dress and lights another cigarette. She grabs her purse and whirls to face him.

"I lied, yeah," she says.

"After all that shit you gave me about Mya?"

"Well just because I lied too doesn't mean that you didn't lie! We're all a bunch of liars. A bunch of fucking low down liars."

"And she smiles when she says this, that head injury has her going loopy Mint," Mandrake says.

"It's not the head injury. It's her," Mint says. For a moment she is all he can see. She is standing there with her chest heaving, her hair piled high just the way he likes. She knows she is caught, and Mint is not sure exactly what it is he's caught her at. It goes deeper than even what has been exposed, he can tell. "You put that purse down and sit your ass right back on that bed."

Mira does as he says. Her hand shakes as she smokes. "Unprovoked?" She barks. "That remark, Mint, I resent. Robbing him for no reason? I'm sorry, do I know you?" Mira tousles her hair, curses under her breath and grabs an ashtray from the nightstand inside which she places her still burning cigarette. "He's provoked me plenty. He's locked me in the house. He's forced himself on me. Has threated to fucking kill me if I left. Are you crazy? Unprovoked? Before, I was too weak minded to really stand up and by the time I was ready to I wanted his blood."

"Mira, you are one of the toughest people I know. You could have just walked. If he came after you..."

"He is coming after me! Haven't you noticed?"

"I think what she's trying to say is, if she was going to risk leaving and have him chase her down and kill her, she should at least rob him blind and have some fun while she's at it," Mandrake says.

"Yeah, or if she'd just walked without trying to rob and kill him he wouldn't have sent an army of comic book villains after us," Mint says. He picks up his keys. "How much have you stolen from him?"

"Twenty mil," Mira says. She picks up her purse again. "I'm running out."

"Where?" Mint asks, his eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck is with you?" Mira asks.

"Oh I think you know. Go out. I've got a run of my own to make," Mint says.

"Ill go with her," Mandrake says.

"You're more than welcome to, Mandrake. You are too, Mint. Let's not get mad at each other. We're all we've got."

"We are. But I want to be alone for a bit. I won't be out long."

When Mint is alone he finally takes a look at his phone. Countless missed calls from Mya. One outgoing text message to Mya. He'd told her where he'd be tonight. He has not yet decided whether he will show up--take the final step in ruining things for good.

"Where you headed?" Delray is beside him suddenly, opening a stick of gum. Mint stops, faces him.

"What do you want?"

"Listen, underneath all this scheming and scamming, I'm a cop. I believe in the justice system. I believe bad guys should go to jail."

"How much?" Mint asks.

"Slide me a million, I'll make sure the system forgets you were even in prison in the first place. I'll get you released on paper."

"No shit?" Mint says. He looks deep into Delray's eyes, trying to find a waver, a sliver of something.

"I'll do it. Tell you what, since you are working with Mira, a girl who gave my Sela some of the best times of her life, I'll even get working on it before you pay me...the entire thing. Get me half for the down payment, the rest when it's done. Hell, you get me two million? I'll make sure you are clean as a whistle when we part ways."

It is not until Mint has left Delray and is sitting on a wobbly barstool at Fisher's Fry Hole that he ponders this offer. He most definitely has the money. He can't imagine being free of all the weight he is carrying behind him. No jail, no mile long wrap sheet. He could go straight--though the thought of going straight isn't as appealing as he wishes it were. Delray could be blowing smoke up his ass. He is in no position to trust the words of snakes. The offer is almost too good to be true, and he is leaning toward thinking it is just another scam.

Mint checks his phone. A reply text from Mya that simply reads, 'I'm on my way'. Mint polishes off his third gin and juice. He thinks of Mira and her face clouds his vision for an indeterminate amount of time, and it is not until Mya slides onto the stool beside him that he breaks free from the image. He feels a hint of nostalgia when he lays his eyes on Mya's beautiful face, her short blond hair meticulously styled, as usual. Mint slides her the strawberry margarita he ordered for her. She smiles and takes a sip, watching him all the while.

"I missed you. You look good."

"Thanks," he says. He focuses on the television mounted over the bar. It shows a news program covering the explosion. He can't hear what the short balding news reporter is saying, and he figures that that's just as well.

"So, you attached at the hip to Mira again, I hear?"

"You hear? Don't play coy. You tried to kill her. You almost succeeded. Mandrake was there too, by the way. You could have killed him, too."

"Collateral damage."

"You sound like Montana," Mint says. He regrets meeting her, and suddenly wants to be back with Mira. He recalls the press of her thighs, the sounds she makes that differ ever so slightly from the ones she makes when Mandrake is inside of her.

"Well, maybe you should start acting a little more like him, too. Did you know he's got his eyes set on politics? He's going to clean up his money and go legit. And if anybody's got enough money to pull such a stunt Montana does. He says he'll take me with him. Give me a position on his staff."

"Really? You think that goon could be a politician? I mean, most of them are slimy but fucking Montana is an oozing rotting boil on society's backside. He'd have to throw a couple of blow jobs in with any bribes he thinks he's gonna push."

"Well, he says he'll do whatever it takes. Including killing the woman he loves for messing with his life."

"You and Montana are thick as theieves, it appears."

"Well why wouldn't we be? You promised me the moon when you broke out and now look at you! On the lam with Mira and Mandrake while they rob Montana blind!"

"Mandrake?"

"What, you didn't know? Mira's been fucking Mandrake for months. They've been going into Montana's places and sticking them up. This kid Montana found hanging around one of the spots after it got hit said he watched her and Mandrake fuck in the car for about an hour before they went in. Apparently it was all very Bonnie and Clyde."

"You used to lie better than this," Mint says. He stands, ready to go. For some reason, he doesn't care whether this is true or not. If it is in fact the truth, all Mandrake and Mira's dishonestly amount to is another lie or half truth atop a mound of others. At this moment, the mention of Mira and Mandrake's name only makes him want to return to them.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to Mira's hip," Mint says. He throws a few bills on the table and turns to leave. Mya follows him.

"Just like that?" She says once they are back on the street. "All of you are stupid. You have no idea what you're getting into with her."

"Don't I?" Mint asks, a smile on his lips.

"You don't. You wouldn't believe the stories Montana tells about her."

"So you two, you're fucking right?" Mint asks, the smile still on his lips. "Montana this, Montana that. And anyone who would believe any commentary that Montana has about anyone's character is an idiot. I would think you'd know better than to fall for him. You saw with your own eyes how he was with Mira."

"Mira was a bitch who eye fucked you and any other man she wanted directly in front of Montana's face without apology. She is a liar, a sociopath, a slut, and most importantly, a thief. Did you know she sent M&M after Montana? He doesn't just kill, he maims, tortures.."

"Two things Montana has done and is overdue to have done to him. As you well know, that relationship ran a rocky course before Mira began acting that way toward Montana. He put her through hell. She started not to care, and yes, she started being disrespectful, there's no doubt about that. But to feel anything akin to pity for a man like Montana--that's where I draw the line. She gave it to him like he dished it. Montana couldn't handle it."

"And you can? Where is she right now? With your brother? Probably fucking like rabbits the both of them."

"Maybe," Mint checks his watch, "and maybe if I hurry, I can join them."

"You three are sick," Mya says through a scowl that Mint has seen too many times before. "Montana wants all three of you dead. I'm the one trying to convince him to only set his sights on Mira. I'm pleading your case and this is how you treat me?"

"Have I changed your mind, then? Are you gonna do Montana a favor? Put a bullet in my head?" He asks. He is more than aware of the gun in his holster, one reach away. He could do what he should have done before. He watches her make a decision, her jaw set, a decision that is never brought to fruition.

"I won't have to, because--" Mya's words are cut short by a bullet in the head that creates a splash of blood as it escapes her right temple. She drops dead to the ground. Mint grunts in surprise and rips his gun from its holster. He ducks into cover just as another shot narrowly misses his head. He resists the urge to crawl to Mya's side as the gunshots continue to hit the metal and shatter the glass of the old Buick he's hiding behind.

"Who the fuck are you?" Mint calls out. Silence. Mint drops to his stomach and peers beneath the car. Walking toward him, he sees a pair of black leather boots that he would know anywhere, hears the successive chimes of a cell phone ringing. He peeks around the car and aims his gun, but no one is there. Mint takes a cautious look around and sees nothing but Mya's body lying awkwardly on the ground. He chokes back a sob and pulls her back into cover. He covers his hand with the edge of his shirt and slides her cell phone out of her pocket, dials 911. He prays for her as he runs in the opposite direction toward his car, sirens fading in and gaining fast.

He dials Mira's number once he is in the car and the call goes straight to voicemail. "I know what you just did," he says after the beep.