Hyeonverse: The Last of the Balagans

Smiling, Hyeon backed down.

"Careful when you go up against monsters, Mama bear. You may just become one."

She grabbed her cell phone and played back the recording.

"Yes, I hired Mr. Ranta to teach Tommy Balagan a valuable lesson. Yes, I would do it all over again."

The woman went pale and Hyeon stuck her tongue out at her, amused. The teenaged girl removed a pink pregnancy test from her pocket and threw it on the table.

"What's this?"

"Call off your dog, Grandma, Tommy's going to be a Daddy. Leave him and Kayleigh alowne or I'll get upset. And when I get upset, Mrs. Vee gets upset."

"Who's Mrs. Vee?"

"You've never heard about the Vulture of Minsk?" Grabbing a fountain pen from her breast pocket, the girl drew a sneering fly on Arnaud's pastry paper box. "She was a Belarusian bride during the Balkan wars. Snipers shot up her wedding, killing her groom and guests, so she decided to pay them back, an eye fowr an eye. Legend says she could hit a fly from a mile away."

Hyeon took a few steps to the side, and the drawing lit up with a green laser dot.

Arnaud's pastry box exploded into paper shards and dog poop sprayed the kitchen walls.

Ka-pow!

A sniper rifle shouted from a distant rooftop.

The two women and their butler gawked at both the window and the teenage girl, their eyes wide with fear.

"This was a courtesy call, from a monster girl to another. Back the fuck off, Grandma!"

That was the last time they meddled with Ricky, Kay or Tommy's love lives.

YOU SCREAM, WE SCREAM ICE CREAM

"I want that bitch's drawings out of my house!"

"It's my fucking house, those are my drawings!"

The shouting could be heard from across the street. Sighing, Mike rolled his Harley into the Balagan front yard. From the garage, Hyeon saw the biker and sang:

"Who's the leader owf the club

That's made fowr you and me

M-i-c-k-e-y M-o-u-s-e!

Mickey!"

"It's Coach Lawrence to you," Mike grunted, patting his wallet.

"Bulb again?" Hyeon pointed at the bike.

"Yeah, right in the middle of the Lincoln tunnel."

"Tommy told you to replace it weeks ago," Hyeon leaned in to inspect the frame. "You've gotta check the lights once a month, grampaw, you know how hogs are with electrical."

She turned to find the biker staring at an envelope on the workbench.

"Marlon Merlo Brooklyn High?" Mickey's eyes widened, looking at the heading. "My school? What is this, you're finally going to...?"

"Not. A. Fucking. Word."

"A homeschooled Bronx girl in a Brooklyn high school, this is gonna be a whole ball of laughs..." Mike smiled at her pouting. "How's the tooth?"

"Still hurts a bit," her frown morphed into a smile. "The dentist recommended ice cream."

"I'm not buying you ice cream."

"You miserable prick; there's like a hundred dollars in here," Hyeon reached for a wallet in her back pocket and counted the money in it. It was Mike's wallet.

"Gimme that!" he yanked it off her hands.

A door slammed, drawing their attention. Tommy stormed out of the house with Kay Cordoba in hot pursuit.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"

"I'm going to work. Someone has to pay the bills around here," Tommy screamed.

"Fuck you," Kay screamed back. "I work too, you know?"

"Yeah? How come I never see a dime?"

"Fuck you," Kay headed for her car. "We're gonna have a talk when I finish my shift. Things are gonna start changing around here, starting with that!"

Her finger pointed at Hyeon who clutched her imaginary pearl necklace in feigned shock.

"Ain't love grand..." the girl snickered.

"Hyeon, ju... just shut the fuck up..." Tommy growled at her.

Then, his demeanor softened and he lowered his head in apology.

They watched Kay drive away in her car.

"God, I hate that nympho bitch..."

"Then, maybe you shouldn't marry her, uh?" Mike chimed in.

"I... can't," Tommy sighed. "She's carrying my kid..."

Mike and Hyeon exchanged a look while the young Balagan rolled up his sleeves, preparing to dive into his work. The garage had never been so pristine, the teenage girl's eagerness for acceptance reminded him of that sad young boy dancing in front of his cold Mother, fishing for a smile, a hug, or a pat in the head.

"The place looks great, Hyeon," Tommy smiled, watching the girl's face light up. "I could eat off the floor."

"You mean it?"

"Oh, yeah," he smiled, helping Mike set his Harley in the garage.

"Bulb burnout?"

"Bulb burnout," she ticked items off a sheet with her fountain pen. "Which do we do first, the hog owr the Firebird? Green owr blue?"

"I don't deserve blue..." he sighed.

Hyeon fought off the urge to comfort him. Monster girls didn't do hugs.

"Green is cool too," she winked. "Mrs. Vee's eyes are green..."

Mike smiled, watching Tommy teach Hyeon an easier way to remove the headlight housing. The girl mirrored his moves, drinking from his every word.

"So, Mike," Tommy started while checking the wiring. "Hyeon told me something very interesting yesterday..."

"Did you try to kill his Dad, Mickey?" the girl blurted out.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Hyeon!" Tommy shouted. "Fuck!"

"What... what do you mean?" Mike raised his eyebrow, uncomfortable.

"Nobody kills himself by jumping off a 4th story building," Hyeon said. "Especially a HVAC technician, thowse guys have access to the tallest buildings in New York. If I wanted to go splat, I'd pick at least a twelfth story."

"Cats can survive a twelfth story fall..." Tommy pointed out.

"They can?" Hyeon looked at him in wonder.

"Oh, yeah, I saw it on youtube once; above the seventh, the higher you go..."

"You're out of your mind..." Mike stared at the girl angrily.

"You had the motive," she insisted. "You wanted Chari."

The pair stared at Mike in silence. He looked at Tommy, then at her and back again.

Their eyes dug holes in him. The weight of keeping a secret all these years was too much. Mike hunched his shoulders.

"It was an accident... it was never meant to..."

"It was never meant to what, Mike?" Tommy raised his voice.

"Your... your Dad was crazy when he got out, you have no idea!" Mike remembered. "Why do you think your Mom made you move in with me at the time? Carl... your Dad was determined to kill you, Tommy. He told Charissa about this whole plan he had cooked up while in jail..."

The vision of his Dad standing on the roof of their house, casting a colossal shadow on the tiles flashed through Tommy's mind. Suddenly, he was six again.

"The following day, Charissa asked me to go with her to his workplace and talk him out of it. There was a struggle, we fought... it was an accident."

Mike lowered his head, the past had finally caught up to him.

"It was an accident, I've never killed anyone in my life..." he mumbled. "I would never..."

Tommy had never seen Mike this distraught.

"He kept accusing Chari of ruining his life," the Coach mumbled. "I was only trying to..."

Tommy reached for Mike and patted him on the back.

"It's okay, man, thanks for helping out my Mom," Tommy said. "And thank you for saving my life; twice!"

"Hey, I saved your life twice," Hyeon crossed her arms and Tommy smiled. Then, he turned to the Coach again.

"Mike... are you my real Dad?"

"What...? No!"

"Come on, I am not a kid anymore. I've seen you and Mom, I notice the smirks from our neighbors..."

"No, Tommy, listen..." Mike stammered. "I wish you were my kid, I really do but you are a Balagan through and through. That's the problem, you see... fuck, this is awkward... your parents and I had an... arrangement."

"Ew," Hyeon winced.

"An arrangement," Tommy repeated.

"Look, I dunno what fucked up childhood your Dad had growing up in this house, but he swore that he'd never have kids, that the Balagan name would die with him. It was his obsession."

Tommy's eyes bulged at these words.

"The problem is..." Mike continued. "The problem is that your Mom loved him so much that she wanted his baby, so she managed to convince him that you were mine."

"Holy fuck," Hyeon exploded. "That is... holy shit!"

"I'm sorry... I'm not your Dad. I wish I was."

Tommy looked at Mike in silence, weighing everything he had said.

"You were there when I fell from that roof. You got me the Ray Raven part. For as long as I can remember, you've had my back," Tommy smiled. "If not for you, I dunno what I would have grown up to be, a psycho probably. You were more a Father to me than my own Dad. I don't give a fuck whose genes I carry, you are my Dad, Mike."

Tommy hugged him and tears formed in Mike's eyes. The old Coach would probably never have his own kid. Maybe this was as close as he'd ever get but he'd take it. He clasped his boy even tighter.

The muffled sound of a camera shutter snapped them from the moment. Hyeon hid away her cell phone.

"Sowrry..."

"Y... yeah, let's get on with the work, shall we?" Tommy smiled. "Thank you, Mike."

"No prob..."

Taking off his jacket, the Coach joined the pair in the garage.

They worked on Mike's bike before finishing Widow Curtis' Firebird.

"Man, I could eat up a whole ice cream truck," Hyeon mumbled, slamming the hood.

"I'm not buying you ice cream," Mike repeated.

Hyeon groaned, grabbing a wallet from her back pocket.

"You stingy Motherfucker, you have a hundred dollars right here," she counted the money.

"Gimme that!" Mike shouted.

Tommy laughed, watching Coach try to retrieve his wallet back from the girl's nimble hands. She threw it at Tommy.

"I told you to be careful around her," he grinned, giving Mike his wallet back. "Sorry, Hyeon, no free ice cream for you."

"Are you sure?" she grabbed her phone, combing through a set of menus. "Because I'm positive you're about to buy me ice cream."

She hit play on the recording of a conversation and Kay's voice filled the garage:

"Ashley, if you tell Tommy this is Brandon's baby, I swear I will never speak to you again!"

Brandon Hill, the Black Birds quarterback. One of the many guys she had banged in the final months of their senior year. Clearly, they had never stopped.

Mike and Tommy looked at the girl in disbelief, then at each other and back to her again.

"Who wants free ice cream?" Hyeon screamed, waving twin V signs in the air. "Whoo-hoo!"

Mike laughed:

"Well, she's got you."

Tommy put his hand on Hyeon's hair, messing it up.

"Let's go get that fucking ice cream," he smiled.

Closing the garage, the trio headed out to the Ice, Ice Abby on Pitkin Avenue.

They spend the rest of the afternoon sampling the multiple flavors available while discussing ways for Tommy to dump Kay. Some of them were pretty mean while others were probably illegal.

"Blue Moon..." Tommy sat with his shades on, watching the traffic roll by while enjoying his butter pecan ice cream. He would never get used to the colors. "You really like that kiddy stuff?"

"Yeah, Da... Cormac and I had a case in Ohio once and I got hooked on the flavowr."

"You in the buckeye state?" Mike smiled. "I'm surprised they didn't shoot at you."

"We were the ones doing the shooting," she winked.

"Where is she now?" Tommy asked suddenly, in a sobering tone.

"Sh... she who?" Hyeon turned to him wide eyed.

"Seriously?" he knitted his eyebrows. "Just give it to me straight, I can take it."

Busted, she put down her Blue Moon ice cream.

"Dumbo, mostly. Washington street and Plymouth. A bunch of hos shat all over her paintings, stole her mowney and bullied her out of the Old Fulton shelter. She's trying to get into the one in Amity street now, but fuckface-in-charge there won't let her in unless she gives him a blowjob. I've got Cormac to buy one of her art pieces off the street, so she won't be starving for the next few days. It's a nice Notorious B.I.G. art piece with very primal and visceral color values that draw the eye into the canvas."

Tommy wondered how many of those words had been borrowed from her Meth hooker friend Kim.

"We've gotta do something about this..." he stared at the cars passing by.

"The fuckface in Amity Street?" Hyeon looked at him. "Oh, I've got my sights on him."

"No, you dummy..." Tommy turned to her. "I mean Madeline, geez!"

"Well... yeah, I guess I could..."

"You're not sticking her in a boiler room!"

With a strategy set for how to dump Kay, the group finished their ice cream and headed for the Barclays Center where they marvelled at the street performers, joining them in a spontaneous dance session.

Tommy took the opportunity to teach his friends some of his awesome moves.

Watching Hyeon's attempts at a Moonwalk, the young Balagan's lips stretched into a melancholic smile.

"I would have been an awesome Dad..."

COME WITH ME

The warm breeze blew gently on her face.

It was such a bright day.

Charissa walked up the hill toward the silhouette that stared at the dark clouds on the horizon.

"And there he saw the breadth of his domain and he wept," she quoted from a dream. "For there were no more worlds to conquer."

"I already have the only world I've ever wanted," Carl reached for her hand.

"Is it all you've ever dreamt of?" she asked.

"Well..." he smiled. "I had pictured tireless oceans of cocks ravaging you."

"Pervert..." Charissa hugged him. "I've only ever wanted the one."

They softly kissed.

"I wish we could stay like this forever and ever," she muttered. "Just you and me."

"You'd get upset," he smiled. "I like to share you."

"I don't mind..." Charissa sighed.

"They are getting mighty close," Carl pointed at the looming clouds.

"Can't we just... stay here for a little while longer?" Sadness darkened her expression. "I can tell you about how I was once pounded by a retired Yakuza member at the back of Café Matilda..."

"You've already told me that one, in minute detail" he caressed her cheek, wiping away the tear, with his finger. "His cock gets bigger each time you recount it."

"Well, it was a very impressive member," her smile trembled.

"Okay, maybe just a little longer, but then you have to go back," he kissed her forehead. "Tell it one more time."

Charissa's face lit up with a radiant smile.

Tommy could swear he saw his Mother's lips move in her sleep.

It was warm in her hospital room.

Caressing her scarred hand, he returned to Hyeon's signed copy of E. M. Parker's Alexander Unleashed and resumed his reading out loud:

"As the generals leaned in over his deathbed, one of them asked:

'Who shall succeed you, my king? To whom goes your kingdom?'

With his last breath, Alexander whispered:

'To the strongest.'"

There was a knock on the door and a man in a suit came in.

"Mr. Tomasz Isydor Balagan?" he asked. "Hi, I'm an attorney at Rusnak, Rusnak & Waters."

"Is this about the bill? I've already talked to the Insurance company..."

"Mr. Balagan, we believe you and your Mother have enough leverage to contest Urian Forst's will."

"Wha... who?"

"As his daughter, your Mother could stand to easily inherit a third of his fortune, estimated in 96 millions."

"Mom never told me anything about a Grandpa..." Tommy stared at the guy in his expensive grey Hackett suit. "Wait, what's in it for you?"

"Aside from our hefty commission?" he smiled. "Let's just say at the company we represent, the company your Mother works for, they take loyalty very seriously."

They heard Charissa turn on her bed.

"Look, give me a call when you're ready to be a rich man," the attorney whispered, extending a business card before leaving.

Tommy stared at the card.

"Who... are you...?" Charissa asked in a groggy voice.

"Mom!" Tommy hugged Charissa. "You're awake!"

"You're..." she stammered. "You're..."

"I'm your son, Tommy!" he removed his shades; tears were pooling in his eyes. "Don't you recognize me?"

"I'm sorry, I... I don't..." Charissa looked at him puzzled. What a handsome young man, where had she seen him before?

"Don't worry, everything is going to be alright," Tommy buzzed the nurses' station before turning to kiss her forehead. It was the first time he had done that and for the first time in his life, she didn't flinch at his touch. Charissa looked stupefied, was this young man really her son? She had made that? Her heart melted and she grinned, filled with happiness. Seeing his Mother overjoyed, Tommy hugged her even tighter. Yes, everything was going to be alright, he was going to take good care of her.

"I'm so happy you're back..."

"My head hurts..." she touched the bandages in her head. "Must have been a nasty fall..."

"Yeah, something like that," he smiled. "You really don't recognize me?"

"No, I.. I'm afraid I don't..." her gentle fingers examined his features. "But your smile is so familiar..."

AN ACT OF KINDNESS

Friday morning found Ricky Tinsley working in his Dad's animation studio, curating and uploading updates to their website.

Adulthood had changed the once petulant teenage boy into a humble and hardworking young man.

Gone was the snob kid who used to cater to his Mother's whims, replaced by a grownup who had had no problems dumping his cheating fiancée on the spot once he learned from Grandma Izzy that Kay was pregnant with Tommy Balagan's child.

The whole marriage had been a setup by his Mother and he was done kowtowing to her commands. He was free now, free to do what he'd always wanted, work in cartoons like he and Madeline had once dreamt.

Madeline... the name stabbed his chest and loneliness paralysed him. How could he have let the best thing that ever happened in his life slip between his fingers?

The landline phone startled him out of his depression:

"Hi, is this Richard Tinsley?" a girl asked.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, I'm Sara; I've just found your phowne?"

"Oh, God, you did? I've been looking for days!"

"Yeah, it was just like, there on the floor?"

"Thank you, thank you so much. Where can I find you?"

"Y... yeah, like that's the prowblem? I've gotta bail, like Daddy's plane is leaving for Akron. Can you be at the Brooklyn flea on 6th, in like half an hour? I'll be in front of Tadzio's?"

Ricky flew out of the building.

On the radio, reporters discussed Kuraitis CEO Urian Forst's violent death in Rio and the timely resurfacing of his long-lost daughter and heiress in Brooklyn, rendered amnesiac after a home invasion.

On the next station, a Kuraitis International spokesperson was dismissing downsizing rumors.

Speeding down 6th street, he parked his Ford Fiesta near Tadzio's.

As he was getting out, Ricky froze in his tracks.

Across the street, gorgeous paintings leaned against a wall.

He would have recognized those patterns and brush techniques anywhere. Sitting on the ground next to them, a vision reopened an old wound. The dirty floral dress, the messy hair, the disheveled look, and the defeated slouch did little to diminish her beauty; she was still the same girl who had stolen his heart a lifetime ago.

Madeline saw him and her heart was struck with pain.

She tried to get up, gather her paintings and flee, but there was no more strength left in her.

They stared at each other, crying and hurting.