By Any Chance
Chapter 12 Fin
By Nicholas Nocketback

Evan folded in on himself, chin on his knees, arms wrapped loosely around his shins, back against the cold latex enameled wall in the darkness of the storage closet. It had been hours since Rose left for the night, but he couldn’t sleep—not because of the task that awaited him in the morning, but the knowledge that what Rose said could be true. Fighting off feelings of anger and betrayal, he slackened his pose a bit and began thinking of Jodi Ashton, a girl he’d adored from middle school to his senior year. When he couldn’t sleep, Evan would think of past relationships, future relationships (which were basically girls he’d never be able to sleep with in the diurnal world) or just plain fantasies. It was like a cleansing of all things stressful which in turn would have him unconscious in a matter of minutes, no prescription needed. There was really no telling what time it was—late at night or early morning—the only two options. Evan was given explicit instructions not to open the storage door since the janitorial team came in the morning and wouldn’t be done until well after 6am.
Although he’d never had a relationship with Jodi, he was good friends with her. She thought of him as a goofy older brother; however, they were really the same age. This was most likely her way of never having to engage in any romantic way with Evan, and he knew this. Nonetheless, when you’re infatuated with someone, hope transcends reality and you begin to believe that just maybe something could happen. He hadn’t seen her in seven years and heard nothing from her since graduation. Often times he’d conjure images of the both of them together on a date—some dreamlike restaurant that was an amalgam of Thai and Italian. This night, though, found them in the back of a white Ford Explorer. It was snowing, probably in Massachusetts somewhere, and completely black out except for the orange glow of a streetlight burning several yards down the street, not another car in sight. Rufus Wainwright crooned on about cigarettes and chocolate milk in the background of their heavy petting and joking. Jodi’s laugh was a raucous and infectious, displaying a full mouth of straight white teeth—almost too white. Imaginary Evan stroked the back of her head, winding thin strands of her blonde hair in clockwise circles with his right hand. “Wanna hear a joke?” he imagined himself saying.
“Only if it’s funny. Can you promise me that?” Jodi asked with an air of seriousness. “Cause if not, you can save it and tell me a riddle instead.”
“No, no, it’s good. Okay, so, what did the wall say to the other wall?”
Dream Jodi shrugged her shoulders and leaned in closer to Evan in order to hear him more clearly. “Well?” she urged.
“Meet you at the corner.”
She giggled, covering her mouth with her right hand, something Evan couldn’t even control in his imagination. “That was terrible,” she responded. “Did you make that up?”
“Salinger.”
From there he pushed on, fast forwarding the images in his head toward the back of the vehicle. The seats were down and the two of them wrapped in a Star Wars comforter, Rilo Kiley singing The Absence of God. The two kissed angrily, tongues navigating each oral void for a home. Evan pictured her unzipping his pants and digging her left hand into his underwear, wrapping around the base of his penis and pulling upward, as her right caressed the back of his neck. They rolled around like toddlers in the back of the Explorer until they found the ideal geometric formation. He thrust himself in her and she whimpered, not of discomfort but more in relief then puffed a series of warm draughts of breath in his ear. His face stayed nuzzled in her neck the entire time. Although it’d been many years, her scent stayed clearly unique in his head—chamomile, before steeping. Evan continued the dream in various themes, moving it to rooms, the beach, and even a portable toilet. While he’d done this countless times throughout his life, he could never conjure an image of finishing the coital act. By the time he’d exhausted all areas of fornication, he was usually asleep. This was no exception.
)(
The sound of keys slapping the wooden door aroused Evan from a deep, dream forgotten sleep. It opened wide, a ray of light slashed through the darkness, blinding Evan. He closed his eyes and held his head down. “I can explain no need to call the police.”
“It’s only me, get up off your butt and get out of there before anyone sees,” Rose demanded.
Evan pushed himself up and wiped the crusted corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his button-up shirt. “What time is it?” Evan’s voice broke. Looking down he noticed he had an erection and quickly injected his hand into his right pocket in order to adjust it.
“It’s 6:45. Hurry up now and grab that bag. There’s something’ you better see,” Rose pulled Evan by his left arm mid-sentence.
“Okay, well, can you give me a second? Jesus.”
“You don’t got a second, Hun.”
Rose led Evan outside and sat him down on a bench awaiting the 8am Amtrak. She sat next to him, setting a newspaper on his lap. Looking down Evan read the front fold heading: Mayor’s daughter found slain in North Fresno Home. “Rose? You got a cigarette?”
The two smoked in silence until Evan finished reading the article twice. “Well, I guess this is the bluff being called, huh?” Evan stamped his smoke out on the concrete, twisting the butt under his Converse until the fibers had separated, making the butt appear to be a brown cotton ball to the unknowing.
“It says they don’t have any leads yet, and the house was thoroughly cleaned, probably by a professional. You a professional?” Rose laughed, forcing the final syllable from her sentence.
“I did not do this, Rose.”
“I know, I know, I’m just tryin’ to lighten the mood a bit.”
“Aren’t you outraged? I mean, this was the mayor’s daughter,” he opened his eyes wide and grabbed Rose’s elbow, as an exclamation.
“Let me tell you something, there’s all kinds of people dying, getting killed, or just starvin’ out here in the streets. You think he gives two rats asses about any of these folks. Now don’t get me wrong, any life lost is important, but just because this girl was of some importance in the community, doesn’t mean she’s worth more than my Dean. My husband worked for this city almost his entire life. He came from Oaxaca when he was just fourteen and stayed here, picking fruits in the winter, apples, oranges and the like, and in the summer he’d landscape with his brothers. He was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus. He never had insurance after working his whole life, sun up to sun down. We went to city hall, we campaigned for equal rights, we begged the community for private donations, and received nothing. So, you know what? Screw em all. The only one I feel bad for is that poor girl.”
“But I was told that her mother killed herself and her father died accidentally at work.”
“Well,” Rose positioned herself toward Evan now, shaking a Marlboro Light from her pack. Evan reached in his pocket and found the Zippo with a sheep engraved on it from Janelle’s house, and lit her cigarette. He closed it and stared at it perplexed. “The part about her mother is true. You see the he had a child out of wedlock and didn’t want that to hurt his campaign and future political aspirations, so he paid her off and never really talked about it…but everyone knows. This is really gonna make some waves though. You’re gonna have to get, and sooner than later. There’s no telling what can happen. Cops here shoot to kill if you mess with one of their own, but the mayor? They’ll probably torture you before they kill you.”
“What are you suggesting, Rose? I didn’t do it.”
“They don’t know that.”
Her sentence stagnated for a minute before Evan got up and shouldered his bag. Shuffling over to the locker, he unlocked it and opened the door. The locker was absent one million dollars and held only a small sealed Hallmark envelope. Evan looked over his shoulder and left to right. There wasn’t a soul at all. As far as he could tell it was only Rose and himself. He snatched the light purple envelope, closed the locker door and walked back to Rose. “Money’s gone and this is left. Whoever picked it up must’ve done it within the last six hours. Isn’t the depot monitored? There’s gotta be footage, right?”
“What’s the card say?” Rose questioned.
Evan ripped the side of the envelope, blew into it and retrieved a card with a crow in flight on the front, escaping from a jail. The inside inscription read welcome home jailbird, we missed you. Evan couldn’t believe Hallmark made such an offensive card. In blue pen at the bottom of the card there was a note. It read Look who’s Fresno Famous. You made the front page, killer. You should keep a lower profile around these parts. One way of doing that is filling that locker like a good boy. You lucked out this time. If you don’t think this could get worse, think about this: you’re pretty good about cleaning up after yourself except for one tiny thing—a single bottle cap. Must get thirsty after killing someone. It’s okay, though, I got it with me and will quickly dispose of it once we’ve met our agreed upon fee. Keep your head up, partner.
))]\}{/[((
Sitting in the same Chase Financial couch that he’d occupied just yesterday, Evan thought about the visceral scene at Janelle’s. How was this even possible? That one dart sticking in Fresno, California had created a fate worse than the one he’d left in Worcester. How could a city completely siphon the life and wealth out of so many people in a handful of days? What was this place? And why wasn’t there a warning sign when he entered the county? The bottle cap he remembered clearly now. He’d been careless and let it roll underneath the sink, forgetting about it after finding Janelle slain. Rose had to be right. Buckley was the only one who knew all this about him and could possibly set him up like this. No one else was aware that he’d come here. Further, January was gone, cleaned the room as he had done. So the two must’ve been in cahoots, but how? No matter, Evan was sure of what he needed to do. The bank agent, a completely different one from yesterday, walked in the room. “Wow, I’ve never seen so much dough before,” he spoke while smiling, something Evan found repulsive. He must’ve been new; he had to be no more than 21 and clearly couldn’t fill out his Van Heusen off the rack suit.
“Yeah, well, three million’s a lot to some people,” he said without so much as a faux, personable grin.
“Looks like you’re all set, we just need your John Hancock here,” the agent passed a three page document over to Evan, the first two pages folded behind the third.
Evan simply scratched Chance above the signature line and walked out of the office. The money, all three million of it, had been put into a series of bags, three altogether. He picked them up in a small room toward the back of the bank and exited, using a back door quarantined for high profile clients only, the agent said happily.
At the Amtrak station, Evan found Rose still smoking outside; she was talking with someone who looked to be staff. He donned a light blue button up short sleeve shirt with a patch on the left breast that read Brian. He took a seat at a bench populated by two teenage girls, iPod buds stuffed in each of their respective ears, sharing an Us Weekly. They ignored Evan as he tucked his bags under the bench. Two minutes later Rose sat down next to him. “I think you’re right, Rose, Buckley made this happen some how and January’s got to be a part of it, too. Why wasn’t there any mention of her in the article? I mean, I could’ve sworn they were roommates,” Evan shook his head and clasped his hands as in prayer.
“What’s with all the cargo?” Rose motioned to the bags with a nod of her head.
“I’m out, Rose, that’s why I wanted to come back here…to thank you.”
“Where are you gonna go? I don’t know, but with three million, I can surely get out of the country and worry about this elsewhere. Fresno has ruined my faith in people, Buckley has ruined my faith in friendships, and women have betrayed my faith in love. There’s absolutely nothing left, but I sure as hell don’t find prison an option, nor am I giving this blood money to some fink. I woulda given him cash if he asked.”
“What if he gives the cap to the police?”
“I should be out of town by that time.”
“Sure, but if they have your license number from that Jetta, they’re surely gonna set up a block of some sort.”
()
Evan boarded the 8:45 bound to Portland. Sitting in his own car, all three bags hovering above him in the luggage rack, he looked reflectively out on the passing scenery. The cabin shook as the train sped along. Reaching into his bag, he found the novel that was stuffed into the locker, The Magus. He opened to page 95 and read the poem in the middle of the page aloud: From this skull-rock strange golden roots throw ikons and incidents; the man in the mask manipulates. I am the fool that falls and never learns to wait and watch, Icarus eternally damned, the dupe of time.