Risky Business

by Aleksis Bertoni

Snap, Snap, Snap, the repeated click of the hammer against the empty chamber sounded hollow within the thin metal walls of the warehouse. The rush of Russian Roulette really was second to none, I thought to myself. I spun the cylinder again, “last chance?” his lips were defiantly silent as I pulled the trigger for a forth time.

-A Month Earlier-

            The light in the casino is dim as I pull down the lever on the ironically colorful slot machine. The imagery and bright lights of my new found friend mirror the inverse of the apathy I have been feeling for the better part of the last fortnight. The screen resolutely flashes the message Insufficient Funds as I snatch my coat from the backrest of the chair and stride toward the exit; I push open both doors of the Oaks Card Club as if triumphantly returning from some great battle, only to find myself reeling backwards in shock as the radiant beams of early morning sunlight pierce my corneas. Staggering a bit as I recover,  I make my way down the sidewalk and into the parking lot behind the building. I slide slowly into the plush leather driver’s seat of my new M3 coupe and cover my eyes with the palms of my hands.  Trying to breath deeply, I pull the sickly orange colored bottle from the glove compartment and down two pills, dry.

***

            I can hardly think about anything else since the diagnosis was handed down. Sitting at my desk I try to tune it all out but I simply can’t, everything is so tantalizingly imperfect, so unpredictable; I break into a sweat then and there on the eighth floor of the Power Bar Building. I know how this condition can get out of control but sometimes I don’t know what I would do without it, to live your whole life scripted, would be murder. Things need to be improvised, need to be subject to change at any instant. I don’t want to be a mindless drone, numbed by any number of uppers and downers, no.

***

            I look down at my shaking hand, what a rush! I think to myself, now soaring smoothly to the ground after plummeting nearly five thousand feet, checking my Casio watch: twelve noon, plenty of time to catch the shuttle back into San Jose and then its back to the office, back to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, just the thought of menial office work made me sick to my stomach as I floated town to a safe landing on the tarmac. As I got into my newly pre-owned nineteen ninety-two Honda Civic and turned onto the freeway I got a chill up my spine thinking of all the ways an accident could occur on the bustling Mecca of heavy metal moving at exorbitantly high speed. I could not help merging without signaling and changing lanes erratically on the ride home, and though honks came as easily as candy on Halloween, all in all it was quite the uneventful road trip.

***

            I hate wearing these gowns, just this whole sterile environment gives me shivers, or maybe that’s the draft running down my back. “Hi doc,” I exclaim, sarcastically ecstatic. “Nice to see you, how have you been?” 

“Fine, fine, but the real question is how have you been?”

“Oh couldn’t be better! Constant headaches, nausea and bloody noses I feel like a kid on Christmas morning.” I replied dryly.

“You knew going into this that the side effects might be unpleasant, but we do not see an ‘obsession with unpredictability’ often. It’s very rare, subsequently the only drugs we have for you are in trials, so that means you are stuck with whatever they give you until they work all the kinks out.” It annoyed me immensely how calm and cavalier the doctor was about these facts, if only he knew what it was like.

“Well I need something, something stronger, I… I haven’t noticed an ounce of improvement, if anything my downward spiral has even started to speed up. This condition is tearing my life apart doc; I’m barely holding on, I’ve drained my savings account on coke and late night slot machines, jumped out of planes.   I cannot stop, and the urges are becoming more intense.”

“I see.” The doctor said quietly looking at my naked feet. “Well I think our next course of action should be upping your dosage from two pills a day to four.”

“More pills, more pills, alright, what else can I say, my hands are tied.”

***

“So, what do you think, you sure this is how you want this to end?” I asked him. “Mmm.” He grunted, still refusing to speak. “Well I guess this is how it will have to end then.” The metal felt organic under my fingers as I spun the cylinder again.

***

            Even in my unstable state I knew this was a bad idea, but I still could not help myself, the mere idea of it was too enticing, like it was calling to me. He was big, really big, six four, two fifty and built, but I could care less.  As the elevator dinged “fourth floor” I hit him straight in the jaw. Who knows who this guy is, but he can sure put up a fight.  An instant after I hit him his head snapped back, and he looked at me curiously, he smirked a bit and clenched his huge fist in front of my face, Wham! I heard my nose crack sickeningly as my head slammed back into the brushed stainless steel wall. I looked back at him, warm liquid running down the front of my suit and on to my shoes below.  Another swing, and my knuckle connected squarely with his eye socket. I felt the squishy eye ball yield to my fist. Shaking his head he looked up at me questioningly, but apparently he was not all that confused because he grabbed me by the neck and with a faint snap I heard my rib give way to his heavy knee. Ding “eighth floor” the elevator doors slid open and the behemoth walked out, his eye the shade of an over ripe blueberry as he stepped over my crumpled body. It must have been five minutes before anyone else called the elevator because I laid there choking on my own blood and every time I coughed my chest felt as though I had just been run over by a steamroller. The funny part about the whole, admittedly less than humorous, endeavor was that I just could not for the life of me stop smiling. Fighting the ogre, laying in a pool of my own blood, in the ambulance strapped down to a gurney., I smiled all the way until the Rhinoplasty. Despite all the Novocain in the world I knew there was only one way this could end.  Doctor ‘Tough Love’ put the cold metal rod up my nose and told me to “breathe”.  At this point the only thing I could think was ‘fuck.’ Nothing else. The whistle of the hammer through the air seemed to last for hours, I did not even hear the connection of the two pieces of steel as I felt that same warm feeling as blood rushed through my newly broken nose and down the gown that I hated so much.

***

“He is still inside! My baby!” I looked on wide eyed as the blaze shot out of the windows of the four story apartment building. “Fuck it.” I thought as I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve and ran for the crumbling doorway. As I ran through the inferno I felt the flame’s intensity grow.  In retrospect I should have asked where he wa, but where is the fun in that?  Bouncing from room to room as I casually dodged falling support beams and flaming drywall, I began to cough.. With each cough I felt that knee connecting solidly with my side, but no time for reminiscing now. Finally I heard it, a faint scream; I ran for the sound and kicked in the door, which crumbled like ash under my foot. I saw the baby boy lying on the bed and made a dash for him. Honestly who leaves their son in a burning building, that is just plain inconsiderate. I snatched him and ran to the door; God must have acknowledged my good deed, because miraculously flaming pillars seemed to yield to me and this boy as I ran through the rubble of what was an apartment a few moments ago. I could hardly breathe, and as we reached the lobby I tripped.  Trying to shield the boy, I hit the ground.

“He’s waking up.” A woman said. I opened my eyes to a circle of people, some in uniforms some in regular clothes surrounding me. Someone started talking to me but I couldn’t hear a thing due to the fact that I was busy hacking up a lung and thinking it might be good if they just removed my ribcage now. “That was very brave what you did tonight, stupid, but brave, you could have been killed.” The fire chief said.

“Yeh.” I said indifferently.

“You’re a hero, but a lucky one at that,” he said. “We barely got here in time to pull the two of you out.” He said.

“Is, is he ok?”

“He is, thanks to you.” A woman wearing her bathrobe and holding a bundle of blankets said, on the verge of tears.

“Well I’m just glad I could help.”

***

“So this is a 357 magnum?” I asked, “Looks so much more menacing in the movies.”

“Well that sucker packs a punch I tell you what, fatal from over seventy feet.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Great, we are going to have to do some background checks and what not, but you’ll have it in about five days.”

On the way out of the store I took one heavy lead bullet out of the case and threw the rest of the container into the storm drain, the bullets bounced and twinkled as they flew like raindrops into the gutter.

-A Week Later-

Tick, tick, tick, the click of the cylinder revolving make a soothing noise as I looked down at this shiny gun. “This could be it, the end of the line, the last stop, El Fin” I said with a chuckle. “No, still nothing to say?  Well then I guess this is the end of the line.” I put the gun in my mouth and considered the gravity of what I was getting ready to do. My finger shook as I placed it firmly on the cold trigger. I never heard the gun go off, and in the split second in which my life flashed before my eyes the corners of my mouth showed the slightest signs of a smile.