Still The Good Guys

He took my neck.

I said he wasn’t strong enough, and he took it anyway.

Headlights leading the way from the airport, the young man rolled through the dark with exhausted, reddened eyes battling the glare of opposing traffic.

I'm not sure where to go from here.

Rain clattering against the rental’s windshield. Wiper blades battling rhythmically to provide the necessary clarity. Succeeding, but only just.

Fortunately, that decision has already been made.

A familiar left turn in Portland would arrive abruptly, the young man’s muscle memory guiding him from the main drag.

The Black Sheep and The Comeback Kid have come up short. The storybook ending won’t be in the Almasy’s final. 

Guiding him away from the glare of traffic.

But at least they’ll have each other at Colossus.

Guiding him home.

“How far.”

“It’s...ah, shit. It’s close, man.”

Toby stifled an outburst with a heavy burst of air through his nose, lips curling behind that heavy black beard. Dark eyes darted toward the passenger side of the red pickup, the melting frame of his grandson leaning loose against the door.

He rapped Paul against the knee with the back of his wide paw, jolting him to attention.

“Fuck, dude…”

“How close,” the Grandfather urged, knuckles turning white against the steering wheel.

Paul’s head lolled from right to left, his gaunt visage clinging to some form of consciousness. However, in any stage of drug addled distress, West Linn, Oregon would always feel familiar; a church of all places, with a gaudy, brightly lit cross on its front lawn, managed to anchor the eldest Hanlon sibling to reality.

West Linn would always be home.

He lifted a tired finger to the windshield, pointing loosely through the glass and rain.

“Keep going like, ten minutes, then take a right on Skyline.”

Toby relaxed into the driver’s seat, calming himself with a long breath.

“Hey, man?” said Paul, eye-lids drooping.

“Yeah, son?”

“What are…what’re we doing? What’re you gonna do?”

Paul drifted off, the words tumbling off his tongue. Toby reached over with a heavy hand, and clapped it lightly against his grandson’s jaw.

“You’ll see.”

Paul’s head fell forward, drool dripping from his bottom lip. Toby turned his dark gaze back to the road ahead, and kept an eye out for Skyline.

“Everyone’s gonna see.”

Nearly fifteen years ago, Nova told the world “Fuck You.”

And at age eleven, sitting cross-legged on the floor of my house in West Linn, watching him join up with the likes of Angelo Deville, it crushed me.

Painfully sober, Hayes stared at the ceiling of his old apartment in Portland. From a naked mattress with no sheets. No pillow. The same apartment where he’d sought refuge after Mom labeled him The Enabler. With the same bathroom where he’d puked his guts up when PRIME told him “yes.”

He’d always meant to end his lease agreement, but never did.

Fingers laced behind his head, the youngest of the Hanlon siblings filled his broad chest with air in that bedroom; stripped of every comfort and glimmer of personality when the day finally came to make way for Las Vegas.

Nearly every piece gone, save the naked bed. And the walls.

I told myself “never.” Never could I do something like that. Never could I turn my back on the crowd. On PRIME’s heroes. I threw dad’s blue necktie in the trash, stomped away into my room, slammed the door shut…

…and made damn sure to watch ReVolution the following week.

His old apartment represented a quick checkpoint before reaching West Linn. A place to nod off for the better part of a day after the long flight from Memphis to Portland International.

Because he still had me glued to that TV. He had everyone locked in. It didn’t matter that he tossed away his own blue headband, clipped off that beard, and shaved his head bald. No.

It just pulled me in further.

With a tired groan he sat up from the mattress, swinging his legs to the floor. He rubbed at his already frazzled mustache, and pinched the exhaustion from his dark eyes.

Like I hadn’t been betrayed at all.

He stood, pulling the hood of his gray sweatshirt over his head and shoving his hands into the pockets, gently thudding from the bedroom and into the apartment’s living room. As the focus returned to his vision, his dull gaze lingered on the empty corner of the living room, where a sectional couch once lived.

He imagined Paul sitting there, sipping a beer.

And for a fleeting minute, re-lived the moment he told Older Brother the news.

“What’s the word, Hayes?”

“...I’m in.”

With a few blinks and the shake of his head, the memory disintegrated. He stood alone in the quiet. In the empty, bare living room.

One year ago, Cancer Jiles offered me a spot with the Bandits. All I had to do was flop on PRIME’s biggest stage. 

I replied by taking the Universal Title from him after Nova slapped the mat three times.

What a life.

A set of car keys sat waiting on a countertop near the doorway. Taunting him.

And now, a year later, I chose Glue. 

And I can’t help but wonder, what would the Boy in the Blue Necktie think?

Reluctantly, the young man swiped the keys into his hand, found his shoes, and stepped into the early, wet Oregon air. A gray sky threatening rain again. Home sweet home.

What would he think, as I lean into my new role as a Thresher of Hooves?

He didn’t bother to lock the door behind him. The lease was ending for good this time.

What would he think, watching me throw Jared’s shirt at his feet?

Turning the key to his black rental sedan, he flicked the wiper blades to life, preparing for the rain to fall.

I think he’d storm into his room.

Pulling away from the apartment complex’s parking lot, Hayes said goodbye with a glance through the rear view mirror before making way toward Mom and Dad’s.

But I bet he’d tune in next week.

Sofia’s blue eyes stared through the window of her kitchen. Through the rain, and into the driveway.

Behind, peering from the threshold, Gregory studied.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly, hands clutching at her elbows.

“Sofia, you need to...”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “I know what I’m feeling, Gregory.”

Her husband swirled the coffee in his mug, and ventured with a step forward.

“We need to talk about what you told me,” he said. “You need to talk to our children…”

Her sharp features froze, a harsh gaze locked steadfast to the window, and to the rain. She pulled her bathrobe tight around her slight frame, and avoided her husband’s query.

“Sofia,” he pressed, taking another step.

“Wait.”

Her eyes widened, her already tensed figure froze completely, and her lip hung in fear.

“What? What?” Gregory pleaded, rushing forward to his wife..

“Call our daughter,” she said, placing a hand to her husband’s arm.

He pulled the cell phone from his pocket, unlocking it while peering through the window. In the driveway, an old, red pickup; wiper blades battling the rain.

Sofia drew a long, sharp breath.

“He’s here.”

Cecilworth proved me wrong, Jared.

But I can’t let you do the same.

Hayes had pulled over before Skyline Drive, taking a moment before traveling down the street leading to his childhood home.

He sat behind the wheel, watching the wiper blades beat against the storm.

But it’s been really hard, you know? Ever since UltraViolence. Hard to know if I made the right call. 

Fortunately, you’ve done a great job at proving me right.

The young man’s attention turned to his phone, buzzing in the rental’s cup holder.

A notification from Paul.

Big Bro

Wednesday, Nov 29 - 10:22 AM

Hayes read the text, then turned his eyes to the gray.

You still feel like one of the Good Guys, Jared?

Remember that nice moment we had after the break last year? At ReVival 21?

I hope you do. I appreciated you that night. I needed that. And it’s too bad you don’t see me as worth the effort anymore. That me, and Glue, are the “Bad Guys.”

But man, ARE we?

A set of headlights cut through the pouring rain, stealing his attention. An old red pickup, turning in front of him down Skyline.

I get it. It’s an easy label. But man, the more I spend time with this crew, the less it feels like Bad Dudes doing Bad Things, and more like Glue just being…Glue.

And maybe that’s the point I’ve been missing these last few months.

Running a hand through his dark hair, and wiping it across his ‘stache, Hayes pushed the car into gear, and turned down Skyline Drive.

Maybe you’ve been missing it, too.

Toby Castellanos slammed the driver's side door of the red pickup behind him.

Burning dark eyes cut through the rain toward his daughter, standing tall on her porch in West Linn. Gregory stepped through the screen door, letting it crash behind as he joined his wife.

The rain fell so heavy.

“You know you don’t come back from this,” said Sofia, lifting her pointed chin and speaking loudly over the rainfall.

“That’s fine,” Toby replied, deep from the throat. “I won’t be around much longer anyhow.”

Sofia’s teeth clenched together, and Gregory stepped forward onto the first step.

“I’ve got the cops on the other line right now,” said the Hanlon patriarch, holding up his phone. “You’d be smart to get the fuck out of here.”

“Eat shit,” spat Toby, the rain matting his long hair and beard. “Won’t make a lick of difference.”

“What the hell do you want?” said Sofia, cutting through her husband and father. “They finally let you out. Isn’t that enough?”

Toby, already soaked to the bone, offered a dour glare.

“Not even close,” he growled.

He locked eyes with his daughter’s blues, taking heavy steps across the gravel and to the truck’s passenger side, throwing the door open. He reached in and wrenched the limp, drug-addled body of Paul from his seat, gripping him close to keep the eldest Hanlon son standing.

Gregory flinched with anger. Sofia’s eyes flared with rage.

“I mean t’make you fuckin’ suffer first.”

Gregory tapped furiously at his phone screen to contact the authorities while Toby and his daughter seethed, furious glares slicing toward the other.

And then, serendipitously, and tragically, another set of headlights traveled down the driveway, belonging to a black sedan. Toby turned toward the lights, then back to his daughter with a malicious grin.

“Timing’s everything,” he said.

The black sedan parked, headlights on, and out stepped the youngest Hanlon. Hayes scanned the scene, quick to spot Paul’s limp figure in the arms of a black-bearded wall of a man, and quick to see his mother and father, standing tall on the front porch of their home.

He squinted hard through the rain, confused.

“Mom? What the fuck is going on?”

“You just stay right there, boy.”

Toby’s harsh, rugged words carried into the dark as he reached behind and into his belt, retrieving a 9 millimeter glock and pushing it hard against Paul’s temple.

“You son of a BITCH!” roared Gregory, stomping forward down the steps toward the driveway. Toby pressed the pistol harder, keeping the Hanlon patriarch at bay.

“What the fuck?” Hayes hollered, stepping forward, but stopping in his tracks as Toby spun himself around, Paul spinning with him.

In that moment, Hayes took in the sight of his grandfather, even through the rain.

The black hair.

The dark eyes.

The broad chest.

The young Hanlon’s eyes narrowed, head tilting.

“Grandpa?”

“Well shit,” said Toby, forcing a fake grin. “Look at these boys, all grown up. Shame I never got the opportunity to see it for myself.”

“Another word about my sons and I promise I’ll watch you die you miserable shit,” seethed Sofia, advancing down the steps and into the biting rain.

“And there she is ,boys,” said Toby, snarling toward her. “My precious fuckin’ daughter.”

“Let him go!” roared Gregory, fists squeezing. “Let him go and get the fuck out’ve here!”

“TAKE ANOTHER STEP AND YOU’LL WATCH HIS BRAINS SPLATTER ALL OVER THE FUCKIN’ GROUND!”

Hayes fought hard to steady his breath. Adrenaline had taken over every ounce of exhaustion, but he was borderline delirious. In one instance, one moment in time, he had arrived at his childhood home to see his mother and father in a standoff with his grandfather, holding his brother hostage at gunpoint, the rain barreling into the earth.

He fought the urge to rush this man. His spitting image.

Instead, he circled toward the edge of the driveway.

After a long, pregnant pause against the rainfall, Toby nudged toward Paul’s drugged, fearful frame.

“I ain’t here for him,” he gestured toward the eldest Hanlon child. “Hell, ain’t even here for him!”

He turned the barrel of his gun toward Hayes, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’m here for YOU.”

The glock’s barrel shifted toward Sofia, steady and purposeful. The Hanlon matriarch inhaled quickly through her nostrils, unwilling to give an inch to her enraged father.

Toby breathed heavily, and gestured with the pistol.

“You wanna tell these boys why?” he asked his daughter. “Do ya?”

“Fuck you, you miserable piece of sh…”

“TELL ‘EM! TELL RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!”

Toby shoved the pistol into Paul’s skull, threatening to pull the trigger. Paul mumbled in protest, and Hayes fought every urge to rush his doppelganger.

“FUCK, MAN! LET HIM GO!” Hayes screamed.

“BACK UP, BOY!” Toby roared.

“FINE! FINE!” Sofia shrieked.

Her voice carried through the downpour, and silenced the men around her. They all turned their attention to her sharp frame, ready to pounce. Toby, oddly relieved, surrendered hisfocus, but kept the gun to Paul’s head.

“Go on, then,” he said. “Tell ‘em all the lies you said about me. All the LIES that put me in fuckin’ JAIL for more’n TWENTY YEARS!”

“I might have lied but you fucking deserved EVERY MINUTE OF IT!!”

A biting silence, Sofia’s scream echoing into West Linn.

“I lied because of what you did to my MOTHER. You piece of SHIT!” 

“YOUR MOTHER WAS OUT OF HER GOD DAMN MIND!” he bellowed in retort, pointing the barrel of his gun toward Sofia. “SHE COULDN’T DRAG HER ASS OUT OF BED TO FEED YOU WHEN YOU WERE CRYIN’ YER EYES OUT!”

“AND YOU LET HER KNOW ABOUT IT EVERY FUCKING CHANCE YOU GOT!”

Sofia’s chest heaved with rage. Hayes stood frozen in the driveway, drenched by the rain. Gregory stood at the bottom step, soaked and processing the scene unfurling in front of him.

Sofia took another deep breath, and spewed fire unto her father.

“And because of that, because of YOU, she swallowed a bottle of Vicodin, and choked to death on her own fucking VOMIT!”

The breaths came quick through her nose, and tears glistened against her eyes. Gregory and Hayes, frozen but at the ready, stood transfixed at this showdown between father and daughter. Surprisingly, Toby relaxed, allowing his gun to lower from Paul’s temple.

“And then what?” Castellanos asked. “Then what’d you do?”

“Then…” Sofia started, nearly choking on the words as they formed in her throat. “Then…I told everyone how you beat me. How you took your anger out on your only daughter. How you abused me, and took advantage of…”

Sofia forced herself to stop, tilting her head and pinching her eyes shut. Lips pursed together tight.

Toby nodded, relieved to hear the words fall from his daughter’s mouth.

“And? Was all’ve that true?” he asked.

“No,” Sofia replied, cold. And quick. “But you deserved every fucking minute in that jail cell. And I’m glad I’m the one who put you there you miserable FUCK.” 

At that, Toby grinned behind his wet, heavy beard.

“Well, at least you could finally admit it. And at least now, your whole family knows you took more than twenty years away from me…”

And then, a burning rage filled the eyes of Toby Castellanos.

“...so now I’m takin’ more away from you.”

He pulled back the hammer of his pistol, and shoved it into Paul’s temple one more time.

“NO!!!!!” roared Hayes, lunging forward from the driveway.

Gregory replied in kind, bellowing deep into the air. Sofia shrieked: a blood curdling howl. Paul only felt the cold steel against his skin.

But no one heard the roaring engine of a silver Mercedes, or noticed the headlights rushing forward.

And what followed was hard to process.

The engine had taken Toby’s attention, and his pupils shrunk at the sight of the Mercedes’ headlights charging in. Gregory had leapt, wrapping Paul up in his arms and wrenching him away from the oncoming mass of metal The car struck the Grandfather’s broad frame with a sickening crunch, launching him across the gravel and onto the lawn, sliding to a halt with labored, gurgling moans.

Hayes stood frozen, wide-eyed and in disbelief.

Gregory clutched Paul, fallen against the steps and wrapping him up in strong arms.

Sofia’s fingers curled, watching her father careen through the rain.

And behind the wheel of the Mercedes, Olivia.

Nearly hyperventilating, and clutching at her chest as steam billowed from the crumpled hood of the car.

“Holy shit, holy shit!” gasped Hayes, stumbling forward and throwing the driver’s side door open.

“I killed him,” said Olivia through forceful breath, eyes wide like saucers. “I fucking kllled him! Didn’t I!!??”

“Fuck, ‘Liv,” said Hayes. “I don’t know…”

He helped her from the car, guiding his sister to her feet and leading her to the steps. They sat in a heap on the steps, next to their father clutching their older brother, and next to their mother, dropping to her knees and wrapping arms around her daughter.

Soaked to the bone with police sirens reaching their ears in the distance, the Hanlon family drew their eyes to the lawn. To the silhouette of the Grandfather, barely recognizable in the gray and rain.

Broad, and lifeless.

This year has been a lot.

Hasn’t it, Jared?

But I’m glad we get to sort out our differences on the big stage. And I’m gonna enjoy giving you your shirt back. 

Just promise me this:

That however this goes? Remember…

…you still get to be one of the Good Guys.