Dead Odds - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Tally Hance checked his watch: midnight. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait two more hours until the bars closed to have his encounter, but that wasn’t up to him. Surprise was his friend, and that required patience.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness of Vibe, a club well known by Millennials as a place to drink, dance, and watch. Although it was twenty degrees warmer inside than the windy December chill outside, he left his jacket on, the collar turned up. His black jeans and white, long-sleeve shirt fit in with the crowd, though his age wasn’t a match. His college days were nearly a decade behind him.

He studied the men at the bar. No one he recognized. A good start. He started a slow walk around and pretended to look at the bartenders. Every few seconds, he stole glances at the men close by. It took him three minutes to circle the inside. Nothing. He started another lap. And this time was rewarded.

Three-quarters of the way around, tucked into a semi-circular leather-upholstered booth in the corner, sat Sean Riggins with five friends. Three men, three women, all college-aged, all flirting and laughing. A hip-hop beat kept their heads and bodies moving.

Tally realized Sean’s male friends were his teammates, football players who, unlike the rest of the students at Orlando University, must not have finals in a few hours. The girl sitting next to Sean looked familiar. What was her name? He stared at her for a few seconds, then turned away before she saw him. Tonight he needed to remain inconspicuous.

He made his way out the front door and walked across the brick-paved street to a pizza café, where he bought a slice of pepperoni-and-cheese and a bottled water and picked a sidewalk table. He positioned himself to watch Vibe’s front door and wondered how long this would take. He couldn’t sit here until the club closed. He’d need to wander and stay close, keep an eye on Vibe.

The hot crust felt good in his hands as he took a bite and promptly burned the roof of his mouth. He guzzled his water, but he knew he was too late. With his tongue, he felt dead skin already coming off. Small sacrifice, he thought.

His meal lasted three more bites. Tally recognized the gold long-sleeved button-down hugging Sean’s muscular arms and shoulders, a contrast against the rich brown of his skin, as he exited the club and made a right. Tally waited for the others to follow, but Sean was alone. He passed Tally, fifty feet away.

Tally stood and abandoned his meal. From across the street, he paralleled Sean’s path to an ATM on the corner. Leaning against a brick building where he could see, he pretended to thumb out a text message while keeping a focus on Sean. If Sean felt he was being followed, he didn’t let on.

Sean pulled cash from the automated teller, glanced at the receipt, and started back toward the club. Graceful and athletic, the kid carried more than two-hundred pounds on a frame that stood just over six feet. Not that these were issues for Tally. He was a couple of inches shorter and not as fast as he used to be, but he was stockier than Sean. And meaner. Besides, this wouldn’t take long. He expected no fight, no chase. He needed only to pass along a message with a little menace.

Sean retraced his course to the bar. Tally checked for traffic and crossed the street, tucking directly behind Sean and closing the gap quickly. As they approached the club, he made up a ten-foot distance separating them with three quick steps and seized Sean by the arm. “How you doing, Sean? Got a minute?”

Sean protested until he recognized the face. “What the hell, man?”

“We need to talk.” Tally steered the taller player past the club to a spot on the sidewalk in front of an empty storefront. It was just the two of them, and Tally faced Sean head-on.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Or anyone else,” Sean said.

Tally narrowed his eyes and crooked his lip. “You made promises you need to keep.”

Sean backed up and pointed a finger at him. “That’s bullshit. All I did, they owe me. They must think I’m stupid. I’m done.”

Tally looked around, then threw a hard, quick jab into Sean’s stomach. The kid doubled over and gasped for air. Tally followed with a fist to sternum, hard enough to raise Sean upright. “Listen, pal, you’ll do what you’re told.”

He pulled back, surprised that Sean didn’t respond with a shove or a bear hug.

Instead, the younger man’s face twisted into a pained, questioning scowl. His eyes opened wide, then rolled back. A ploy? Tally wondered. Then Sean’s knees buckled, and his body folded down to his feet. The back of his head bounced off the concrete sidewalk with an audible crack. His mouth gaped open, motionless.

“Hey, hey.” Tally bent over and looked into Sean’s eyes. Nothing. He couldn’t tell if the kid was breathing. Twice on a football field he’d seen a player unconscious. Both times the eyes were half-closed. This didn’t look like that.

He looked next to Sean’s head and saw no blood. But the kid had nothing, no more fighting for air, no writhing in pain, nothing. Tally reached into Sean’s jeans and pulled out the cash spit out by the ATM. He found an iPhone in the kid’s other pocket. He tugged on it, but a rubber case caught inside the tight pocket.

Too much time. He left the phone. He needed to improvise.

He stood and waved at a small group of people in front of the bar. “Help! Help me! Somebody call an ambulance!”

A young man with a full red beard ran up and kneeled in front of Sean. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Tally said. “He just fainted.”

Three other men and two women circled them as the first man checked Sean’s breathing and eyes and then started CPR.

“I’m calling 911,” Tally said, and walked away from the group and away from the club. After a few steps, he picked up his pace. Fifteen seconds into his escape, a siren shrieked down the narrow street. Help on the way. He sped to a jog to the corner and made a quick right toward the parking lot. The siren fell silent.

His Ford Fusion started on the first try. He felt his heart race as he maneuvered out of his parking space and out of the lot. He sped north out of downtown.

What the hell happened? A heart attack? A stroke? Some weird seizure? He didn’t know, and he couldn’t explain it, though he knew he’d have to. And soon.