"For some reason, I think of my mother whenever we finish making love," Mira says. Mint stands, stretches, ponders her statement. He can see it, she's never quite detached herself from her parent's expectations like a well-adjusted adult, after all. When they first started robbing banks she would always fall into melancholy for weeks after the job, pondering what they would think of the things she'd done. Unlike Mira, he feels no form of guilt about his actions as he knows that any illegal, immoral act he commits will only be followed by more of the same. For him, harboring guilt for acts he has no intention of ceasing is tantamount to insanity.
"Don't tell us something like that right after," Mandrake says. Mint jumps in the shower, watches the two of them through the transparent shower door before the steam obscures the image of their entwined bodies, a cigarette being passed between them.
"Hey I'm going to link up with Delray and flush out Michigan Mike," Mint says suddenly into the steamy air. He hadn't known he was going to speak, and now that he has he can't do anything else but think about what he'd said. Neither of them answer, but soon Mira is stepping into the shower with him.
"We'll all go," Mira says.
"You have a concussion, Mira, you're not doing it."
"I have to, Mint, it's my fault."
"Yeah well--you were only stealing back what Montana stole from us. I would've done the same thing if I'd not been in prison."
"I would have just killed him," Mandrake says from the other side of the shower door.
"No, you don't understand, Montana never stole our take. He never touched it."
"Peculiar, because that's the exact opposite of what you told us. Explain this a little more," Mint says, his stomach feeling unsteady. He shuts off the water and steps out of the shower. He shrugs on a robe and picks up his cigar case from the night stand. Whatever she is about to say will, he is sure, put things into perspective.
"You know I'm--skittish with violence."
"Since when? " Mandrake snorts.
"I know how I used to be, but lately it hall has become a bit, much. Seeing all the shit Montana's laid in his wake, I'm starting to develop a severe aversion to it all."
"I am thoroughly desensitized," Mint says, though this is not entirely true. He believes his heightened aggression, lack of squeamishness is an amplified expression of normal human anger and thirst for revenge. When someone wrongs him he has no issue doling out whatever sort of attack he see fit, up to and including murder....however...to his knowledge he'd never harmed an innocent man and his knowledge in this field is vast.
"Iceman!" Mandrake hisses.
"Listen, I couldn't just shoot him. I couldn't walk up and shoot him. I don't have the stomach. And I've got a clean record and I'll do anything to keep it that way. You both need me to stay that way. A murder charge is not an option. So I did the only thing I could think of."
"You obviously didn't kill him, so spit it out," Mandrake says.
"Mandrake, your razor sharp wit is always appreciated, but pipe down," Mira says. "I fed Montana sleeping pills and hired a guy to drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head."
"Drive him to Mexico and shoot him in the head," Mandrake repeats.
"That's what she said," Mint says. His mind is racing, but he is calm when he addresses her.
"Who did you hire?" He asks. He finally lights his cigar, and tries to keep his mind completely blank as he knows this is the last moment of peace he will have. Whatever the name is, they're fucked. He can almost see the end, every detail fleshed out brilliantly by their many missteps.
"Mayven Mikowski."
"M&M." Mandrake says.
"You sent that shockingly astute psychopath and Montana is still alive? Doesn't sit well with me. Montana is a desperate coward which gives him a little bit of an edge, but he's still no match for Mikowski. There's got to be more to it, Mira. How did Mikowski say it happened?"
"He didn't. I haven't talked to him since all of this started."
"So, we going to see Mikowski?" Mandrake asks. He throws on his clothes and jingles the car keys in his hand, a man of action.
"Mira, I cannot express to you how much having that information days ago would have helped us. Why lie?" Mint asks.
"I didn't need to tell you...I didn't want to worry you...I thought I'd take care of it myself? One of those? A bit of all of them? Plus I tried to tell you a few times times. I figured it didn't matter in the scheme of things."
"Well if it matters nowhere else, Mira, it matters in this scheme of things. Not only have you robbed him, generally unprovoked, you tried to kill him. And just what part does he think me and my brother played in this little plot?"
"What's it matter what part he thinks we played? We're in it now. And I know that if we'd ever found out that Montana was trying to off Mira we'd kill him no matter the reason," Mandrake says.
"Without a doubt, Mandrake. I'm just trying to sort out this lie. Give me a second," Mint holds up a finger and raises his voice slightly. Mira slides on a dress and lights another cigarette. She grabs her purse and whirls to face him.
"I lied, yeah," she says.
"After all that shit you gave me about Mya?"
"Well just because I lied too doesn't mean that you didn't lie! We're all a bunch of liars. A bunch of fucking low down liars."
"And she smiles when she says this, that head injury has her going loopy Mint," Mandrake says.
"It's not the head injury. It's her," Mint says. For a moment she is all he can see. She is standing there with her chest heaving, her hair piled high just the way he likes. She knows she is caught, and Mint is not sure exactly what it is he's caught her at. It goes deeper than even what has been exposed, he can tell. "You put that purse down and sit your ass right back on that bed."
Mira does as he says. Her hand shakes as she smokes. "Unprovoked?" She barks. "That remark, Mint, I resent. Robbing him for no reason? I'm sorry, do I know you?" Mira tousles her hair, curses under her breath and grabs an ashtray from the nightstand inside which she places her still burning cigarette. "He's provoked me plenty. He's locked me in the house. He's forced himself on me. Has threated to fucking kill me if I left. Are you crazy? Unprovoked? Before, I was too weak minded to really stand up and by the time I was ready to I wanted his blood."
"Mira, you are one of the toughest people I know. You could have just walked. If he came after you..."
"He is coming after me! Haven't you noticed?"
"I think what she's trying to say is, if she was going to risk leaving and have him chase her down and kill her, she should at least rob him blind and have some fun while she's at it," Mandrake says.
"Yeah, or if she'd just walked without trying to rob and kill him he wouldn't have sent an army of comic book villains after us," Mint says. He picks up his keys. "How much have you stolen from him?"
"Twenty mil," Mira says. She picks up her purse again. "I'm running out."
"Where?" Mint asks, his eyes narrowed.
