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FICTION SHORT STORY

Benning

Benning began writing in 1996 as an outlet for his creativity, and to see if he could. Working as a Housekeeping Supervisor in West Central Florida, he has yet to publish a thing, but has earned a rejection slip, and continues seeking more!

Brothers

I sat gripping the red rubber ball in my left hand; muscles tightening, joints straining. I'd been doing this for fifteen minutes, trying to release the tension in my neck, my back. Taking my mind off what I must do. I pulled a drawer open in my desk and dropped the ball in, shutting it as it bounced playfully inside. I sat up in my chair and straightened my tie, absently stroking the texture of it. I looked up at Richard, standing at the door like an immense granite statue.

"Send him in."

Richard nodded, turned without a word, and left, closing the door softly behind him. I glanced to my right at the Bible that lay there, and picked it up, opening it to a passage in the New Testament. I scanned the page and found the words I'd committed to memory:

"What you do, do quickly." Christ to Judas Iscariot. Judas, the Betrayer. "What you do, do quickly."

I closed the Bible and placed it in its accustomed spot. I'd been betrayed. Now payment must be made. I would not ask others to handle this. A tapping at the door brought me back to the present.

"Come" I murmured.

Marty, my brother, entered, Richard looming over him like a shadow. Richard closed the door and took his place beside it. I noticed that his suit jacket was now un-buttoned. Marty sauntered in and slouched into the leather chair across the desk, crossing his legs, and smiling at me. "What's up, little brother?"

I leaned back, returning his smile benignly, noticing again the expensive cut of his clothes, the gaudy glint of gold at his wrist. The overpowering fragrance of his cologne left a sour taste in my mouth.

"Marty," I began, "you've been a very naughty boy."

He smirked. "That's what power does for ya, Hank."

I could feel the smile on my face dissolving, melting into deadness.

"My power, Marty. Mine, and mine alone." I stared into his eyes, gratified to see some of his insolence fading. I sighed. "Papa and I built this organization, not you. We nurtured it, kept it alive, defended it."

Over his shoulder I could see Richard's face in the dim lamplight. "When we were boys, Papa tried to make you learn the business. But you paid little attention to him; showed him no respect. So he chose me." I glanced away, putting the words together in my mind. I remembered how I'd so idolized Marty when I was still in short pants; wanted so much to be big and tough like my brother. I remembered also how he'd bullied our sick mother, the Idol becoming dung in my eyes as he lied to Papa about her 'fall.' I remembered forgiving him in my heart, but never forgetting. And now this.

"You've always been a cheap thug, Marty. Nor were you ever a true part of this Family. After you left, Papa asked me to bring you back in, should he die, begged me to remember my brother.

"And I followed Papa's wishes."

Marty looked confused and I continued.

"Fifteen years and not a word from you until Papa was cold in the ground. Then you wanted in. Wanted the money; wanted the respect he earned. The respect I earned."

"Geez, Hank." Color rose up his neck.

"You were a louse, Marty, but I brought you in. Just as Papa wished."

"Geez, Hank, that's kinda rough" he whined. "I just wanna get what's mine, y'know?" He sat up a little straighter.

My eyes drilled into his. "Nothing here is yours, except what I gave you. You repaid Papa and me with incompetence, laziness, greed, stupidity."

Marty, cheeks red, squirmed in his seat. "Yeah, Hank, I know all that." He glanced at Richard, before looking at me. "I just ..." hands clasping with a nervous dance.

"So tell me, why have you tried to destroy all that Papa and I built, brother?"

He sat up straighter, fidgeting. "What're you talking about, Hank?"

I said nothing.

"Look, Hank, if it's about the contract, I can tell you, I got the Union to see things my way." He smiled at me. I said nothing.

Marty cleared his throat. "Your way, I mean, Hank."

"Three months after I told you what to do, Marty. Three months and a quarter million dollars in lost time."

I turned in my chair, facing the wall. In thirty years not a hint of scandal had ever tainted the Family. Not one investigation had ever implicated us. All of our history now threatened. I stared at the painting of a mountain stream, wishing again that I could be there. The cool waters, clean air. An ease of soul I had never had here. But I was here, in my darkened office after midnight, with a problem I had never expected, and the problem must be taken care of.

"Where were you last night?"

"The Cafe Rococo!" He grinned. "Had a date."

"Ah, a date, Marty." My lips ticked a slight smile. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

He grinned again, leaning back in limp memory of enjoyment. "Sure did! Dinner, dancing, a little slap and tickle, if ya know what I mean."

He gave me a wink. I wanted to slap it right off his smug face. Richard's hands flexed, his face turning grim.

"And how is the young lady this evening?"

Marty snorted, waving his arms expansively. "Hell, Hank, I love 'em and leave 'em, right? How should I know how she is?" He grinned at Richard, who stared at him as if he were an insect.

"She's in a hospital, Marty. Did you know that?"

Marty frowned, "No, Hank. What's wrong with her?"

I turned to him, saying in a whisper "She was raped last night, Brother."

Marty clasped his hands together, sat forward as if in prayer, looking at me. "Jesus, Hank. She wanted it. Hell, you know how they are." Sweat glistened on his forehead.

"As it happens, Marty, I know precisely 'how' this young woman is." Richard moved silently closer. "I was at her christening, attended her graduation. Helped with her college tuition." Richard was standing over Marty. "She has always been like a niece to me, Marty." Marty's eyes were black holes in a doughy white slab. His mouth was open. "She always trusted me, trusted this family. You betrayed that trust. Betrayed this family. Betrayed her.

"You betrayed me."

I sat back, looking at him in disgust, my eyes closed to slits.

"Who is she, Hank? I'll make it up to her. I know I can."

"Make it up to her?" I slammed my fist on the desk. "'Who is she?'"

Leaning back slowly, I whispered "She's Richard's daughter."

The knife came out of Richard's belt in a blur, crossed Marty's throat, and was back in its place before the blood began to spurt. Marty's eyes bulged. He gurgled, blood pouring from his mouth. I watched as he shrank away from my desk, slipped from the chair, slumped onto the floor. I looked up at Richard, his eyes wet with tears. My bodyguard and closest friend these past twenty-five years. The man who had been like a brother to me.

I said, "It is finished."