What Have We Done (36)

O’Leary turns, puts a finger to his lips. “Let’s wait till we get there. Cars have ears too.”

Nico doesn’t ask where there is, and his gut is roiling. This was a mistake. A miscalculation. If it is O’Leary who sent someone to kill him, he’s put himself alone with the guy. They have a history, Nico and Shane, through their dads, and their paths crossed when they were kids, but O’Leary wouldn’t hesitate to take Nico out if it was good for business.

O’Leary turns up the stereo. It’s a pop station and O’Leary seems to be getting into the Olivia Rodrigo song. He’s an odd duck—not that Nico would ever say that out loud.

Nico watches out the window as roadside ministries and murals give way to elegant

brownstones bordered by iron gates. A sign says: PENN TREATY PARK, and O’Leary veers around and pulls into a lot.

Nico looks out at the large open space. Dozens of kites fill the sky, a kite festival, by the looks of it.

O’Leary parks and they climb out of the vehicle. Standing in the lot, O’Leary says, “Don’t take this the wrong way, Nico, but I need you to take off your shirt.”

Nico gets it. O’Leary wants to confirm that Nico isn’t wearing a wire.

Awkwardly, Nico removes his sling and pulls off his shirt.

“Damn, that looks nasty,” O’Leary says, examining the blood-soaked bandage.

Nico makes no reply.

“But I gotta say, no wonder the girls like you so much,” O’Leary adds. “Don’t worry, I’m not a ho-mo-sex-ual,” he accentuates each syllable. “But a guy can admire another man’s abs, am I right?”

He nods that Nico can put his shirt back on.

O’Leary moves to the rear of the car. Fishes out the key fob. This could be it. Where Nico finds himself in another dark hole, the trunk of a Mercedes.

O’Leary opens the hatch and Nico breathes a sigh of relief. The face of a large red dragon stares up at them. O’Leary removes the kite, unfolds it carefully, and they head out to an open space on the field.

Soon the dragon’s wings are outstretched and it’s darting through the air.

“I didn’t know you were an enthusiast,” Nico says, making small talk now. This day keeps getting stranger.

“When I was a kid, it was the only good day I remember with my old man,” O’Leary says. “I come to the kite festival every year. If it wasn’t for my numbnuts nephew skimming from me, I would’ve been here all morning.”

Nico nods. No matter how bad the person, we all cling to the days of innocence we remember from our youth.

“You and your dad ever…?”

“Not quite,” Nico says.

O’Leary nods. It’s odd talking about their fathers, since Shane’s might be the reason Nico’s father disappeared. It remains a mystery Nico has no interest in solving, although there is one aspect to it he never understood: Once Dad was gone, no longer a threat, why didn’t his mother come back for Nico?

Shane carefully hands the reins of the kite to Nico. It’s then Nico realizes that his hands, his only means of defense, are occupied.

But there’re too many witnesses for that. No question, Nico could still end up in that trunk with a kite string wrapped around his neck … but not here.

Nico navigates the dragon as it tugs the line. He’s still in the sling, so it’s awkward, but he does not want to crash O’Leary’s toy.

“So, about my, ah, accident.” Nico keeps his eyes on the kite, the bright red dragon like a drop of blood staining the clouds, the Benjamin Franklin Bridge in the distance.

“Yeah, you gonna sue that show? Seems like you could make a pile of cash. I mean, how long

were you down there? I suspect you have some back pain and PTSD and other stuff that’s tricky to diagnose.”

Nico smiles. Always an angle. “What they haven’t reported on the news yet is that it wasn’t an accident.” He pauses, watches for O’Leary’s reaction.

“No shit. Like someone…”

“Set off a small explosive device.”

O’Leary chuckles. “Who’d you piss off?”





Nico’s mouth is dry. “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t you.”

O’Leary barks a laugh. “Is that why?—Is that why you came to the bar?” He laughs again, smacks Nico on the back. It sends a thunderbolt through Nico’s wounded shoulder.

“Sorry, I can’t think of anyone else who—”

“You owe anybody else?”

Nico shakes his head.

“Broads? Any husbands pissed off? Or crazy gals you jilted?”

Nico shakes his head again.

O’Leary shakes his head as well. “Usually it’s money or broads that will get you killed.” He laughs again.

“I’m glad you find it amusing.”

O’Leary stares up at the other kites bobbing against the gray sky. “We do got a problem, though,”

he says.

“What’s that?”

“If someone’s trying to off you, I need to increase the amount of your payments. If something happens to you, I’ll be out a lot of dough. You understand.”

Nico is so relieved O’Leary isn’t after him that he doesn’t protest. He’s not completely sure O’Leary is being serious. But then again, if he knows O’Leary, he is.