Holiday (The Falau Files Book 5) Read online

  Holiday

  The Falau Files, Volume 5

  Mike Gomes

  Published by Mike Gomes, 2018.

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  HOLIDAY

  First edition. February 22, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Mike Gomes.

  ISBN: 978-1985530348

  Written by Mike Gomes.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  To my ART. You guys rock!

  Chapter 1

  “The hell you are!” yelled the teenage boy’s mother as the boy reached for his coat. “Over my dead body are you going to be hanging out with those gang boys. They are nothing but trouble. I didn’t bring you here for this kind of problem.”

  The boy stood motionless in front of his mother torn about what he should do. At sixteen his body and mind screamed for him to make his own way in the world and that meant taking chances and getting out of the slums. He was of olive skin and held a crooked grin due to his mother not having the money to get him the braces that the orthodontist said he needed. The boy would not open his mouth, smile in pictures or when meeting people embarrassed by what others would see. Some of the gang boys called him Jigsaw due to the random directions of his teeth. A nickname that caused him to cry himself to sleep many a night.

  “Are you listening to me?” questioned his mother “You are staying home.”

  “Why did you move us here? Things were fine in Brighton. We didn’t need to move!”

  “We didn’t need to move? Are you daft?” said the woman waving her hand into the air and turning away. “They were coming for you. You know that. Those Brighton Boys wielding their razors and raising hell. Your Daddy was one of them, so they think you belong to them.”

  “Would that have been so bad?”

  “It would have got you exactly what it got your daddy.”

  The room fell silent as the boy’s eyes tightened to small slits and his jaw tightened. His hands turned into fists and squeezed as hard as they could. A mist of tears slightly shimmered in his eyes as he fought it back.

  “Don’t you talk about him.” said the boy.

  “Joaquim, I loved him too.” said the boy’s mother as she attempted to place her hand on his shoulder but was shrugged away. “Brighton Boys took him away from us. He ran with them when he was young and when he came back after we were married he was told there was no way out. They killed him.”

  A tear rolled down the boy’s face and he turned away from his mother.

  “I can’t have that happen with you.” she said.

  “A cop killed him. Beat him with his stick until he died. It was not the Boys!”

  “IT WAS THE BOYS!” shouted his mother grabbing the shoulder of the boy and spinning him around. Her small but strong hands grabbed the outside of his shoulders and she moved into his field of vision not letting him look away. “He would not have been there if not for them. He would have been with us. But they told him he had to watch the courtyard. That stupid bullshit about guarding their turf. Your father should have been more a man and stood up for himself and his family, but he was too weak and gave into them.”

  The tears drained from the boy’s eyes and he leaned back and pulled his hand back. In one swift motion he swung his hand and the back of it meet the cheek of his mother knocking her to the ground and toppling a chair. The sound of the metal on the chair legs covered the thud of the woman’s body hitting hard down on the floor. Laying on her side she looked up to the boy and then back down to the floor seeing a small pool of blood developing from the blood running from her mouth.

  “FUCK YOU!” shouted Joaquim pointing his finger down at his mother and trying to keep the tears back with no success. “Don’t you talk about him again or I promise you I will do more than just slap you.”

  “Joaquim...” said the boy’s mother looking up at him wide eyed and filled with disbelief. “You... Why...No...”.

  “I am in charge now! You’re the one who took us to Madeira, so we can work for the rich tourists.” the boy said mockingly. “And what has that got us. Nothing! You are a maid and I have nothing. You ran and hid from the gang. You’re the one who is weak! So just go back to your job at the hotel and shake your body for the rich Europeans and hope to get a tip.”

  Turning hard Joaquim walked to the door wiping the tears from his eyes. The sadness had faded and was replaced with a more primal rage that filled him. Grabbing the door knob, he pulled it open and kicked the other screen door open.

  “Joaquim, come back.” called his mother still laying on the floor reaching one hand out for her son. “Please.”

  Entering the courtyard Joaquim stuffed his hands into his pockets and made way for the dirty picnic tables that held a gathering of four boys. The boys dressed in basic black with the occasional flash of color from a T shirt or hat. The gangs of the island knew better than to wear identifying clothing. The island was a hotbed for tourist activity and if the gangs were seen it could hurt the island, so the police were quick to stop anything that looked like it was a gang.

  “Joaquim. How goes it little brother.” said a tall handsome young man dressed in black jeans and coat. On his head he wore a Chicago Bills hat tilted to the side. As the young man spoke all eyes turned to him looking for direction.

  “Hey, Carlos.” said Joaquim.

  ‘Just hey? Nothing more than that?”

  “Sorry. Just got into it with my mother.” said Joaquim regretting the words as he said them.

  The boys at the tables laughed and snickered hiding their mouths.

  “Shut up!” snapped Carlos slapping his hand down on the table. “The man just had a bad go around with his mom. If you don’t feel bad about that then you got no soul.”

  The laughing stopped at once and the boys looked to Carlos. Carlos was eighteen and clearly led the group. At the back table sat José a fourteen-year-old who had hung around with the gang since he was 10. Next to Carlos was Candido a 16-year-old who was new to the area and across from him was Roberto a 17-year-old who was more brawn than brains.

  “Thanks, Carlos.”

  “Hey man, when are you going to learn that your mom is not going to fix anything for you? If you want something you need to go out and take it.” said Carlos pointing hard at Joaquim. “You think those rich guys that come to the island got that way waiting for things to just happen? Fuck no! These guys are the real gangsters, but they do it in a suit.”

  Nodding his head Joaquim tightened his jaw feeling more anger that his mother had not done more for him. His stomach flipped struggling with the
idea that he could take what he wanted when he wanted.

  “I am getting tired of being run over.” the boy said looking to Carlos. “My dad was with a gang back in England. He was a badass.”

  “I bet he was. Looks like it runs in the blood. I wonder if he would just sit around and let his mommy tell him what to do?”

  “No way. He was his own man.”

  “I like the sound of that. That’s what I aim for. Someday I know they are gonna lay me down in the funeral parlor and have a big mass for me. My hope is that I go out being a man. On my terms and not some boy for someone else.”

  Feeling a twinge deep inside, Joaquim pictured his father’s face for just a moment smiling at him. The young handsome man pulling his arm up like he was doing a bicep curl, but Joaquim hung from his wrist laughing and getting a kiss on the head as he reached the top each time.

  “Things need to change for me. I don’t want to end up cleaning rooms or fetching drinks for some fool by the pool just hoping he slips me a few euro and doesn’t grab my ass.”

  “It’s all up to you, brother. We are here for you” said Carlos with the heads of his disciples nodding behind him.

  “I know. I am so close to saying yes.”

  “Hey Jigsaw!” called out a boy moving quickly across the courtyard. The boy had pale skin and dark hair. His mother was from northern Brazil and had been disowned by her family when she ran away with the boy’s father.

  “I told you not to call me that Brazuca.” said Joaquim turning to the boy who matched him in age but was slighter in build and stealth.

  “Come on, Jigsaw, let me see those choppers, so I can shave the skin off my apple.” said the boy placing his hand on Joaquim’s shoulder and patting him.

  “Shut up!”

  Leaning into Carlos, Brazuca held up one hand flat to Joaquim as he was whispering to the leader of the boys. “Must take him an hour to eat one corn on the cob with a grill like that.”

  The joke drew no laughter from Carlos or his crew. The young man stood stone faced and looked at Joaquim not breaking his eye contact.

  “Time for you to leave.” said Joaquim pointing back in the direction that the taunter had come from.

  “Can’t you take a joke? I was just having some fun with you. You need to relax man.”

  Joaquim nodded his head and pulled his anger back feeling he may have reacted too harshly to the boy.

  “You should head home and cool off. Maybe brush your teeth. That should take an hour or two.” said the boy laughing at his own joke and motioning like he was brushing his teeth.

  Lunging without warning Joaquim tackled the boy to the ground. The boys seated started to get up, but Carlos raised his hand and motioned for them to sit back down.

  The two boys rolled to the side before Joaquim pushed one knee and then the second between the legs of the other boy stopping him from rolling. Having him on his back he pulled back his head and smacked his forehead down into the nose of the other boy. A loud cracking noise caused the others to let out a groan knowing that the nose had been broken.

  Arms dropping to the ground and then moving up to his face Brazuca moaned in pain and attempted to roll.

  Joaquim lifted his head to see blood running down both sides of the boy’s face and his hands fumbling as if trying to keep the blood from rushing out.

  Turning his head, he saw Carlos sitting bent over in his chair with his elbows on his knees like he was watching a football game on TV. His eyes contacted Carlos’s and he smiled.

  “Your tough, no doubt about that.” said Carlos leaning back. “But, are you going to teach him a lesson? Are you going to make a statement? One that will spread around and let people know not to mess with you? Something a man would do. Something your dad would have done.”

  Letting his eyes drift back to the injured boy, he looked down knowing he was helpless to defend himself. Joaquim pulled himself up the boy’s chest straddling him with a leg to each side and resting on his knees. All expression left his face and he looked two inches above the beaten boy’s head. His right hand raised into the air and crashed down on the other boy’s face followed by the left and the right again. Joaquim repeated the pattern over and over until the boy was unconscious and his face was covered in blood.

  Breathing hard and hands cut from raining blows down upon a boy he had once called a friend, Joaquim turned to Carlos seeing him sitting with his legs crossed and a smile on his face.

  Chapter 2

  The zipper on the suitcase was caught on the fabric on the inside. The hand pulling it had strength, but the small catch was too much of a match for him. Right. Left. Right. Left. The hand pulled but nothing. The hand slammed down on the suitcase with a sigh a frustration.

  “You ain’t gonna accomplish nothin’ like that.” said Grady leaning against the door jam. The older black man was dressed in a casual pair of pants and a T-shirt of Miles Davis from a tour years ago. His face was drawn and battered from years of drinking and hard living. Deep lines creased his face where his mouth rose and dropped, and his hair had an attractive touch of gray in it.

  “Do you have a solution?” said Falau smacking the suitcase again with his open hand. The big man was unshaven and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt looking hopelessly out of date. Grady made no bones teasing him for his wardrobe and that he looked like he was in a grunge band from the early 1990’s.

  Walking across the room Grady reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife used for cutting boxes open. He crouched down next to the suitcase and inspected it.

  “Don’t cut the lining.” chirped Falau looking over Grady’s shoulder and drawing a slight turn of his friend’s head and a shift of his eyes. “The lining is the only thing holding it together.”

  “You can afford to buy this whole building and a new car, but you can’t go out and get a suitcase?” said Grady pulling at the zipper and sliding the tip of the knife into the fabric.

  “I never think of that. Nobody thinks of that.” said Falau pulling away from his friend and walking to the window.

  “Most people just don’t decide to take a vacation on a moment’s notice.”

  “Most people are not me.”

  “Thank God for that!” said Grady with a smirk on his face and looking out the corner of his eye. The zipper slipped free from its jam and he slid it back and forth nodding his head in improvement. “Where are you going anyway on Christmas?”

  “Christmas is the key. Nobody travels on this holiday. My plan is to get somewhere within the day and then spend New Year’s just relaxing.”

  “Nice plan but where are you going?”

  “The airport.” said Falau with a smile and raise of is eyebrows.

  ‘Now you’re just trying to piss me off!”

  “Okay. Okay. I am going to go play airplane roulette.”

  “What the hell is that? You know that the airport is no place to be screwing around.”

  Laughing, Falau flipped open the suitcase and placed it on his bed. “I know. It's nothing like that. The idea is simple. I have my passport and credit card with me and I go to the airport. I look up at the departure boards and look for something that I might like. Or just the first thing to leave. I have no idea where I am going until I look at that board.”

  A long and exasperated filled sigh rolled out of Grady. Dropping himself down on to the bed he kicked his feet up and crossed them watching Falau move between the suitcase and the dresser.

  “You don’t like the idea?” asked Falau shooting his rolled socks into the suitcase like a basketball player.

  “It’s not that I don’t like it. I just think it’s stupid!”

  “Oh, come on man. It’s an adventure.”

  “Sounds like an opportunity for a major screw up if you ask me. Just jetting off to some unknown place and thinking you’re going to make it work when you hit the ground. This isn’t the 1960’s man.”

  “It’s not like I will go any place that’s unsafe. I am looking for r
elaxation and rest.”

  “Ya, we know how rest and relaxation end up for you.” said Grady pointing at his friend and then curling his hands into fists. “You end up in a fight and drunk.”

  “Hey!” snapped Falau as he turned to Grady and clapped his hands “Today is thirty days sober for me! I go to my meeting tonight and get my chip!”

  “I am feeling good for you right now, Falau.” said Grady with a wide smile. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re better sober then you were drunk.”

  “How many days you got?”

  “Fifteen today and feeling good. Got a meeting in a few hours.”

  “How about coming to my meeting with me tonight? You can meet Dave.” asked Falau placing a few shirts into the suitcase.

  “No offense, but your meeting is a little white for me. I like the one with all the brothers.”

  “What year is it?”

  “You know what I mean. The guys at my meeting are like me. They come from where I come from and have lived lives like me. It just fits.”

  “I can dig that. Finding the right fit is what matters and if it keeps you sober then who cares where or who is there.”

  “What are you going to do on this vacation? No meetings.”

  “There are meetings everywhere.”

  “What about the nightmares. I understand them, but some hotel staff might not.”

  “I know. I am going to try to explain things when I get there, maybe I can find an understanding bed and breakfast.”

  “Some giant guy yelling and screaming during the night? They will have to be one hell of an understanding bed and breakfast.”

  The corners of the big man’s lips rose, and he reached to the far end of the suitcase and pulled the zipper shut. Patting his hand on the top of it he looked across the room seeing if he had missed anything.

  Grady’s feet hit the floor and he grabbed the handle of the suitcase and pulled it off the bed and placed it next to the door leading into the hallway.

  “You know if you start thinking about drinking I am just a phone call away. Day or night. I don’t care what time it is. I will talk.” said Grady extending his hand for Falau to shake.