3. An unexpected farewell

Garrett and Claire go to dinner at an old favorite of theirs, the Evergreen Grill. A few diners sit at different tables, the atmosphere relaxed and calm. Sean and Shawn sit at the far left wall. A man and woman -- a U.S. senator and his wife -- enjoy some desert at a table adjacent to them. And two men sit quietly in the corner. An Asian and another fellow whose face always seems to fall in the shadows of the dimly lit restaurant.

“My one goal in life, if I was ever to get my name in the paper, was to have ‘Ph.D.’ printed after my name.”

Claire feels a slight sting at Garrett’s non-chalant mention of his Chronicle appearance. She wishes he hadn’t brought it up.

Garrett senses that his words were falling on deaf ears. “Well, whatever. Tell me about your job.”

As much as she doesn’t want to, Claire stays on the topic of Garrett’s career. “Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Join up with that guy. Fong.”

Garrett doesn’t answer right away. He tries to think of something to say that won’t upset Claire. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Claire isn’t buying it. “Oh, this better be good.”

Garrett takes his time. “I was pretty out of it. I had nothing going for me. I was living at home, working different temp jobs when they were available. I was depressed. I was miserable. I needed something to get me back on track. I got this job at an import/export business, doing boring nothing work. But the manager there, this guy named Ted, was really cool. He introduced me to Vincent. We hit it off, and to make a long story short, he hired me to work for him.”

“Doing what?”

“Handling money, mostly. Taking care of accounts.”

“Anything illegal?”

Garrett thinks about lying, but he knows it will be in vain. “Well, the money was coming from sources with questionable moral standards.”

“How did that lead to going around shooting people?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Garrett pauses and realizes that there is no amount of embellishment that’s going to give this explanation a silver lining. “You see -- once you start living a certain lifestyle, surrounded by certain types of people, you become more like them. You start doing what they do.”

“But it’s so unlike you.”

“That’s exactly it. My life needed a complete turnaround. And that’s what I got. I got a chance to start over.”

“How could you, though? How could you do all this illegal stuff?” Claire is losing the energy to try and find some reason or sanity behind Garrett’s abandonment of sound judgment.

“It’s not like I’m going around killing people left and right, selling drugs to schoolchildren or anything like that. I’m a businessman. Vincent’s a businessman. He’s all about making money. He’s not the top of the food chain, by any stretch of the imagination. He’s got a lot of connections, that’s all.”

“Then why did the paper call him a ‘crime boss?’”

“Aw, come on. He’s got a family. He drives his kids to school in the morning. He’s really not as bad as the papers and the cops make him out to be.” Claire wonders how long ago Garrett had deluded himself into believing this.

“The cops aren’t after you, are they?”

“For what?”

“Any of that crap you’ve been doing.”

“For the money stuff, no. I’m clean. For Lucky Chu’s, I don’t think so either. Unless you turned me in.” Garrett smiles at Claire. “The owners there are friends of Vincent’s. How else do you think I knew to show up?”

“Who was that guy you shot?”

“Some guy who ripped Vincent off a while back. I talked Vincent out of having the guy and his buddies popped. But I told those boys not to show their faces around the city. And they stood out like a sore thumb at the restaurant. I bet you even noticed them.”

Claire smiles.

“They fucked up, and I had to deal with it.”

“Was it the first time you’ve ever shot someone?”

“Oh, you fucking bet.”

Claire is skeptical about his admission.

“I didn’t want to kill anyone. But I had to do something. It was my responsibility.”

Claire looks at Garrett. He gazes off at the wall. She never thought that she’d be having a conversation with him about how he’s put other people in the hospital. Her head should be spinning from the surreal situation she’s found herself in. But she remains level-headed and focused. She reminds herself that she’s lucky to be here with Garrett. She’s lucky to not have lost him.

“If you had the chance, would you do it all over again?”

“You mean the same way? Of course.”

“You would?” Claire is taken aback.

“Well, yeah. What else could I do? I was losing it. If I didn’t take the job, who knows what would have happened to me. I was this close to giving up. Completely. This close.” Garrett holds his index finger and thumb half an inch apart. “I mean -- fuck.” He pauses as he thinks of what to say, and then looks her right in the eyes. She feels a chill fall down her spine. “What else was I going to do without you?”

Tears well in her eyes. Nothing ever touches her more deeply than Garrett’s honesty. She reaches across the table and grabs his hand.

“I want you to come back with me.”

“To where? D.C.? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. You need to get away from here.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I can’t just pack up and leave. I have responsibilities.”

“What responsibilities are those? The ones that’ll put you in jail?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“How long have you been telling yourself that? And how much longer do you think that’ll last?”

Garrett is silent.

“Remember what you used to tell me? Every trail leads straight back to you. This time, it did. I’m not letting you go. You’ve got yourself mixed up in something you might never get out of.”

Garrett sits in quiet contemplation for awhile. He sighs. He takes his napkin from his lap and places it on the table. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To see Vincent. I’m going to tell him I’m out.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep.” Garrett has a feeling that it won’t be quite that easy, however.

Garrett and Claire get up. Garrett puts some money on the table, and motions to Sean and Shawn to follow.

As Tenaka and the Brit leave the restaurant, the Senator looks up. He feels a shiver rip through his body. There, right in front of his eyes, is the man he simply knows as the Asian. And his faceless companion. The two men that you never want to see. Ever. When you do see them, it means that your time is up. It means that the Old Man has sent his boys to collect.

Tenaka looks at the Senator as he passes by the Senator’s table. The man is as pale as the tablecloth.

Not today, Mr. Senator, says Tenaka in a voice that only the Senator can hear. Enjoy what you’ve been given for a little while longer.

..........

Garrett leads Claire by the hand through a warehouse in South San Francisco. Sean and Shawn flank them on both sides. They come to a back office. Four men smoking cigarettes are gathered around a table, playing cards.

“G.C., whassup,” greets one of them. Claire recognizes him from the restaurant.

“Hey Kenny. Can I go in?”

“You bet.”

As they pass the men, Claire can feel four pairs of eyes sticking to her, like she’s the main attraction at a sideshow.

Although not very impressive from the outside, the office behind the door is quite ornate and lavish. Mahogany desk, overflowing bookshelves, leather sofa. Vincent stands at his desk with a smile and open arms.

“Garrett! What a pleasant surprise!” He nods to Sean and Shawn. “I see the gang’s all here.” He looks to Claire and pauses. “Well, well. You must be Claire.” He looks nothing like the gruff mob boss she expects him to. His hair is greying, as is his moustache. He smiles brightly, with youthful exuberance.

Claire returns his smile. “Hi. How do you do.”

He reaches out and shakes her hand. “I remember you from your picture.”

Great, thinks Claire. Who doesn’t know about me?

“You’re even lovelier in person,” says Fong. “Please -- sit.”

He leads Garrett and Claire to the sofa. Fong sits in a chair facing the two. Sean and Shawn stand in the corner near the door.

“So Garrett, what’s it that you want to talk to me about?” asks Fong.

“Vincent, I’m not really sure how to tell you this -- You’ve been so good to me for the past year and a half. And I really appreciate it.”

Fong’s facial expression turns from jovial to dour. He knows what he is about to hear.

“Well, I’m thinking about moving to Washington,” says Garrett. Garrett feels like a criminal confessing to his crime. Claire reaches over to hold his hand, but Garrett rejects her. He wants Fong to know that it is his decision, not her’s.

“You’re leaving?” asks Fong. His face sinks with disappointment and contemplation. “You’ve decided to leave. For what?”

Garrett sees the disappointment in Fong’s face, and knows that leaving is a let-down Fong has never expected from him. Garrett has seen that look before, but never as a consequence of one of his actions. Every time he saw that look, he told himself: I’ll never be the one to disappoint Vincent. Not like that.

Garrett avoids Fong’s eyes and avoids answering the question. Nothing he can say will please Fong. Not enough to let him go with a clean break. Even if Garrett sits there forever, silent, not muttering a word, Fong will know the reason why Garrett wants out. She’s sitting there, right beside him.

Fong eyes Garrett, looks at Claire, and then looks back at Garrett. “Well, I see how it is,” he sighs. “Why do you want to do this Garrett? What’s so important that you would want to give this up?”

Garrett can’t tell if Fong is threatening him or pleading with him.

“Do you think that since she’s come back, things can go back to the way they were?”

Claire winces.

“Starting over isn’t as easy as it seems, Garrett.” Fong lets out another sigh and runs a hand over his scalp. “Starting over isn’t always the answer.”

Garrett finally speaks. “But it’s what I’ve wanted for a long time.”

“And the things I’ve given you haven’t been good enough? A good job. New friends. A nice place to live. These don’t mean anything to you?”

“Vincent, you know they do. You know they mean everything to me. But it’s just that -- I’ve got a chance to do something. To do something that I never thought I’d get to do. You’ll be fine without me. With a little training, Francis could easily take over for -- ”

Fong cuts him off. “Garrett, you’ve taken James to soccer practice. You’ve been to Janey’s dance recitals.”

Fong’s kids. Garrett adores them more than his own blood relatives.

When this conversation started, Garrett thought Fong was worried about how the business would get along without him. Now he can see that it’s different.

“You’re a part of the family.”

It’s true. In Garrett, Fong had the successful grown son whose diaper he never had to change and who he never had to ground. “What’s Mary going to say when I tell her about this?”

From out in the warehouse, the sound of gunfire echoes off the high ceilings. Garrett turns around, alarmed. He looks to Sean, who instinctively reaches for his sidearm.

Garrett turns back to Fong.

The gunfire continues.

Shouting.

Fong’s attention hasn’t shifted from Garrett.

“You’re not going to Washington.”

Garrett is frightened by the desperation in Fong’s eyes.

The gunfire becomes louder as it draws closer to office. Sean peeks out the door. The four men playing cards are gone.

Garrett asks Sean: “What the Hell’s going on?”

“I dunno.” Sean, the sworn protector, closes the door and says to Shawn, “Take Claire in the back room.”

Shawn draws a gun from under her coat and grabs Claire by the wrist. “Come on, Cinderella. Your coach awaits.”

Claire protests, “Ow! What the -- wait. Garrett --” But Shawn pulls her along hurriedly. The two exit through a door behind Fong’s desk.

Fong gets up from his chair and calmly walks to the bookshelf. The shootout outside doesn’t seem to exist to him. He searches through some volumes, and pulls out an enormous leather-bound book. He reaches into the space left by the book and pulls out a pistol. Garrett stands up. He can tell that Fong hasn’t produced the gun as protection against the unknown invaders in the warehouse.

Garrett breaks out in a cold sweat.

Between a rock and a hard place.

Fong points his gun at Garrett.

Sean uses all of his strength and raises his gun at Fong, with Garrett between them. It was something he has never thought could happen.

Garrett remains facing Fong. “Sean, don’t worry. Put your gun down.”

Sean cringes and reluctantly complies.

The sound of semiautomatic gunfire rings through the room. Garrett and Fong stand silently. The moment of truth. It all comes down to this.

A son’s betrayal of his father is the greatest betrayal of all.

Boom.

The gunshot is deafening in the closed confines of the office.

Garrett feels the bullet tear through his chest, at the place between where his ribs meet and where you’re supposed to press on when performing CPR.

A tear falls down Fong’s face.

Sean mutters an obscenity under his breath and catches Garrett before he hits the floor.

Garrett touches the blood pouring from the hole in him. He giggles a delirious giggle. Sean presses on the wound with his bare hand. Fong stands there, silent. No one notices that the gunfire in the warehouse has stopped.

Claire pushes through the door, shaking Shawn off, who in vain attempts to keep her in the room by her sleeve.

She sees Garrett on the floor in Sean’s lap and screams his name.

The main door to the office bursts open in splinters. Two men, dressed in matching dark suits, enter.

Shawn grabs Claire and pushes her behind her. She lifts her gun to fire at the men and pulls the trigger.

Click. Nothing.

Clickclickclickclick.

Fong would raise his gun but he knows that it won’t make a shred of difference.

It’s the Asian and the faceless one. The Old Man has sent his boys to collect.

Everybody in the room stares in disbelief at the two men who have just entered. Shawn, her arms stretched to the side, uses her body to protect Claire from whatever the men are about to do.

The Asian calmly walks over to Fong and places his left hand on Fong’s right shoulder.

Are you ready? asks Tenaka.

Fong shuts his weary eyes. He nods in resignation.

A brilliant light radiates from Tenaka’s hand and fills the room. When the light subsides, the Asian and Fong are gone.

The Asian’s companion remains.

The stranger looks to Garrett. He walks over to where Sean is cradling the wounded man in his arms, and kneels down. He places his hand on Garrett’s shoulder. Garrett looks up at the stranger in wonder. So it all comes down to this.

“Garrett?!” shouts Claire. “Garrett -- no!” She grabs Shawn by the coat to push her out of the way.

A bright light fills the room. Time stands still.

When the light subsides, the man is gone. Garrett is still lying in Sean’s lap, covered in blood. Nobody moves for a second. Suddenly, Garrett frantically feels his chest with his hands. He pulls his shirt up. The wound is gone.

Tears streaming down her face, Claire rushes to Garrett and collapses at his side. She kisses him and buries her face in his neck. He runs a bloodied hand through her brown hair.

Sean lets out a sigh of relief and looks up at Shawn.

Shawn, eyes wide with shock, leans against the wall and says, “What the fuck was that?”

Sean walks over to her and puts his arm around her shoulder. She begins to cry.

Garrett spits blood from his mouth. “Bleh.”

Claire looks up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than the last time I was shot.”

Unsure of whether or not he’s joking, Claire remarks: “Ha ha. Real funny.”

“I’m not kidding. It sucked.”

“We kept the bullet,” adds Sean.

“Yeah, it’s somewhere in my desk. In a vial,” says Garrett, his voice raspy.

Claire eyes Garrett in disbelief.

A giggle cuts through Shawn’s tears. She rubs her brow with her thumb and middle finger. “I still can’t believe you guys thought it was a good idea to keep that thing,” she says, embarrassed for them and their naive idiocy.

Claire pokes Garrett in the ribs. “You dork.”

Even after all these years apart, she expects him to do something like that. She knows him that well. No matter how much time and distance may have come between them.

“I’ll let you see it when we get back,” smiles Garrett as he dabs some blood on Claire’s nose with his forefinger.

She lays her head on his chest. “Ooooo -- you sure do know how to show a girl a good time.”



( FIN. )