Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE HEART

“Who was that?” Evan asked as Hugo ended the call.

“Bobby. Sam told them that we’re leaving, and they want to meet for drinks.”

“Is Gen going too?”

“She still won’t return my calls.”

As Samuel had ordered, Hugo did complete that first job for Dill. It had been grisly and when Genevieve had found out she was enraged that Hugo had dared to kill one of her own. Several weeks later, she still refused to talk to him. He missed her, but he had no regrets. He’d done it for Evan.

“I still can’t believe it.” Evan took hold of Hugo where he stood looking thoughtfully out of the living room window, hugging him close. “We’re free. We can do anything we want now.” Evan had said some variation of that sentiment over and over throughout the day and it warmed Hugo’s heart to see the man he loved happy at last, delighting in their shared future.

“I only want you.” Hugo rested his cheek against Evan’s and swayed slightly from side to side, content just to stand there.

“You have time to figure out what you want. That’s the beauty of freedom. We can go anywhere, be anything.”

“Yeah, and what do you think I should be? A florist? Teddy bear salesman? Oooh, maybe a cop! No, wait—cage fighter,” Hugo teased.

“I could get behind that last one.”

“I bet you could.” Hugo kissed the side of Evan’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” They stood together for a moment in comfortable silence just holding each other. When Evan spoke again his voice was soft and thoughtful. “Even though Samuel gave us permission to leave, we’re still going to have to change our names to avoid your enemies, aren’t we?”

Hugo nodded, sliding a hand over Evan’s back as he did so. “I’m sorry.”

“The papers Gen made for me before say ‘Elijah’.”

“Do you like it?” Hugo murmured softly.

“I think I could. What about you? If I’m Elijah, who are you?”

Hugo pulled back ever so slightly so he could look Evan in the face. “You tell me. You’re the one who’s going to have to say it for the rest of your life.”

“The rest of my life?” Evan raised an eyebrow with a smile.

“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” Hugo kissed him sweetly.

“What about Hugh?”

Hugo let out a crack of laughter and kissed him again. “I have always said it’s your creativity that I love.”

“Shut up,” Evan said against his lips, laughing along with him before growing more serious. “You really want me to pick your name?”

“Every other part of me is yours, why not my name?” Hugo ran a hand over Evan’s cheek then said, “Do you mind if it’s just me and Bobby tonight? I think they want to say goodbye, just the two of us.”

“Of course not. They can have you for one night, because I get you forever.”

Forever was starting to sound pretty damn good to Hugo. They shared a slow, decadent kiss. When Hugo finally pulled free, he was breathless.

“I love you. I won’t be long.”

“Everything changes after today.” There was such hope in Evan’s expression that it made Hugo feel like they really could do anything as long as they were together.

Hugo hadn’t been back to Trade since the night he had met Evan. It felt like an apt place to say goodbye to Bobby and Tenebrium. The bar was quiet. A slender Black man with a trilby hat played jazz piano in the corner, and many of the patrons were content to watch in silence, just enjoying the music and the atmosphere.

Bobby arrived just as Hugo was sitting down in the booth furthest from the piano. While he was in awe of the player’s talent, this was a night for talking and reminiscing with a dear friend and he didn’t want to have to shout over the extended chords.

Hugo anticipated a night of celebration and revelry, but as they sat down, he noticed that Bobby looked drawn and tired.

“I ordered you a beer,” Hugo said, pushing the pint towards them.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay? You don’t look so great.”

“Well, fuck you too.” Though they smiled weakly. “You’re really out?” Bobby took a sip from the glass and let out a small, satisfied sigh.

“Free and clear.” Hugo couldn’t help but grin.

“You seem, different.”

“I never had a future before that didn’t involve blood and murder, but now I do.”

“Never bothered you before.” They looked down at the scrubbed tabletop and picked at it with a painted nail.

“Honestly, it still doesn’t, but I felt like that was all I was good for. Now I know that I can have more. I do have more. We’ve never been normal people, but I’d like to give it a try.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Tell your face.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…I’m gonna miss you.”

“It’s not like you’re never going to see me again.”

“Isn’t it?” Bobby looked at Hugo sadly. “If you really want to be out you can’t be hanging around with mobsters. It’ll be too dangerous.”

“We’ll make it work. Is that really all that’s bothering you?”

“If this is our last night together, let’s make it a good one. Let’s go clubbing for old time’s sake.” It was a clear deflection, but Hugo chose not to push. They were making an effort for him. “Better yet, we could go to the casino.”

Hugo knew that Bobby wanted to go to Elysium, and he agreed hoping it would improve their mood. Bobby loved to gamble.

Even though Elysium was owned by Dill Kelly, it was seen as neutral ground of sorts. Mobsters, regardless of their family affiliations, were known to enjoy betting and not be short of a credit or two, so it made more sense to reap the rewards than to refuse them entry. As a result, all casinos—mob-owned or otherwise—were safe havens for the mafia, where gangsters who might be enemies on the streets could enjoy a game together without fear of violence.

The casino was loud, dark and crowded. A haze of smoke filled the gaming floor, giving the place an almost mystical quality.

“What do you want to play first?” Hugo asked, clapping Bobby on the back and looking around from the slot machines to the felt covered tables.

Bobby shrugged.

No matter what Hugo tried, he was unable to improve Bobby’s mood. They played cards, slots, craps, roulette, and even the large number of credits they had won didn’t get so much as a smile from Bobby. After two hours of their moping, Hugo pulled them into a quiet corner next to the restrooms.

“Get your hands off me,” they said half-heartedly as Hugo manhandled them.

“Something’s up. What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” They tried to move away but Hugo stayed them with a hand on their chest.

“Bobby. It’s me. Talk.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.”

They cast their eyes around as if looking for an escape but found none. “I just don’t get how you can give up everything for some guy.”

“I love him.” Hugo shrugged. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for Dana?”

Bobby’s eyes dropped to the floor as they shifted uncomfortably. “No.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I just don’t get it. I don’t get him.”

“Since when? I thought you liked him.”

“I do, but?—”

“But what? You’ve been acting weird all night. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Where are your loyalties, Ford?” They blurted. “You’re abandoning us.”

That one caught Hugo off guard. “I’ve given enough. Is being a Conti really all you want from life? I want more. Don’t you?”

Bobby’s eyes were over bright as they gazed at Hugo. Finally, he recognised the look on their face. Guilt.

“There’s something going on, isn’t there?” Hugo’s throat was tight.

“You thought because you like to put your dick into this mark that it would change something. That because it’s you the rules don’t apply. That you choosing that man wouldn’t have consequences. That just knowing about it wouldn’t damn me with you.”

The first thrill of fear took hold of Hugo at their words.

“What are you talking about? Don’t call him a mark. He’s not a mark.”

Bobby couldn’t meet his eyes. Hugo grabbed them by the shirt front and slammed them into the wall.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re a blind fool if you didn’t see this coming.”

“See what?” Fear was quickly turning into dread.

“Samuel was never going to let you leave. He’ll never let any of us leave.”

“What is he planning to do?”

“He’s already doing it.”

“Doing what?” Hugo shook Bobby.

“Evan made you soft.”

“He wouldn’t…” Even Hugo heard it. He sounded naive.

“Maybe you can still save him…if you run.”

And Hugo did run. He ran, raced, sprinted, and hurtled through the streets until exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. His burning lungs and aching legs nothing to the tearing feeling in his chest. Terror was the only thing that kept him on his feet as panic tightened its stranglehold on his heart.

He all but kicked down the lobby door before darting to the lift. He hammered the call button. As the doors opened, he dragged the occupant, a young man with a tiny dog, out and rushed inside. He punched the button for his floor. It felt like the lift was moving in slow motion. He tapped his feet and wrung his hands, needing the lift to move faster. He had to get to Evan. When it finally arrived, he ran the few meters to his front door and stopped dead, breathing hard. There was a bloody smear on the handle. Like someone with blood on their hands had pulled it shut. Swallowing with difficulty, he pushed it open.

“Evan?” His voice died in his throat.

The apartment was trashed. Broken furniture, smashed glass, and splintered wood littered the floor mingled with blood. So much blood. Too much blood.

“Evan?” It was a strangled cry. “Evan!”

There was no response.

He stepped over the remains of the coffee table he had only replaced a few days before and knelt. Mingled with the gore were thick ropes as if someone had been bound. Hugo wanted to vomit.

With fumbling feet and shaking hands Hugo searched each room, they were all as dishevelled as the living room, telling dark tales of torture and a brutal fight. The victim he refused to name in his head had run. He had tried to hide. He had fought for his life, and it showed in every room. Hugo found nothing tangible, no part of him, until he entered their bedroom.

In the darkness he could see something fleshy resting on his pillow.

“Lights,” he whispered almost too afraid to find out what it was. The lamp next to the bed flickered on and Hugo dropped to his knees with a wail.

There on his pillow, still slick with crimson, was a human heart. Above it on the wall, scrawled in blood, were the words, ‘All yours’.

Hugo let out a cry like a wounded beast, the searing in his chest so acute it caused him physical pain. It was like he had been shot. Hugo doubled over and vomited over and over again until the retches turned to sobs.

A hand touched his shoulder and Hugo reared up, grabbing the attached body and slamming it into the door frame with a snarl. It took several long seconds for his brain to register the fact it was Bobby.

“I’m so sorry,” they said dismally.

As Hugo regained some small semblance of composure, a shutter seemed to close in his mind refusing to except what he knew in his blood was true.

“It’s a trick. It has to be. Samuel wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Hugo…”

“Samuel wouldn’t do this to me. He doesn’t want me to leave so he’s taken Evan. He wants me to say I’ll stay and then he’ll let him go. Right?” Hugo was begging, even to his own ears it sounded tragic. Tears rolled down his cheeks even as he lied to himself. It was his mind’s way of coping, of avoiding shattering, a falsehood to stave off the inevitable tumble into a dark void. “This can’t be real. It can’t be real. It has to be a trick. A warning. Tell Samuel I’ll do it. I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever he wants as long as he gives Evan back to me. Tell him. Please.”

“Hugo,” Bobby said again, their eyes filling with tears, too.

If Hugo had been in his right mind, he would have seen the pained and pitying expression on Bobby’s face and recognised it for what it was.

“Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all they said.

Just outside, a police transporter whizzed by, then another, then another. Hugo ran to the bedroom window and looked out. They had landed in the alley opposite the building and were cordoning it off.

“Don’t go down there,” Bobby pleaded.

Hugo took a few faltering steps before finding his stride. He made his way blindly outside, Bobby dogging his steps.

On the street, the flash of red and blue lights drew him nearer. He felt like he was floating somewhere away from his body, detached from his own misery. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw a corpse. He couldn’t. How could his world have ended without him knowing it? It didn’t seem possible.

There were cops everywhere, but he didn’t care. The police had blocked off a dead-end alley with transporters and Medicus hovering above waiting to be called. Hugo pushed through the crowd that had gathered like vultures and ducked under the yellow tape of the cordon. He was vaguely aware that Bobby stopped at the police line and went no further.

“Sir, you can’t be here. Sir!” Hugo ignored the officer as he pressed on.

His feet carried him forward even though he knew what he was going to find would be the end of him. He stumbled to a stop, almost shoulder to shoulder with two detectives looking into an old and dirt encrusted dumpster.

There inside, pale and lifeless, body beaten and broken, chest cracked open, and eyes gouged out, covered in his own blood, was Evan. Undeniably, irreversibly dead.

Hugo broke into a million pieces. He dropped to his knees and howled.

The detectives turned their attention to him then. One was a man in his late thirties and the other a woman in her mid-twenties. Both were white and dark haired, though his eyes were blue and hers a golden brown.

“Sir,” the woman said in a soft voice. “I’m Detective Williams and this is my partner Detective James. Do you know who the victim is? Can you tell us anything about what happened here?”

Hugo couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to. There was nothing inside him. No words, just an empty void filled with a darkness he willed to consume him.