Chapter 50
word count: 610
Frank took the last bite of fritatta and laid down his fork and knife with care. He snapped the clean linen napkin out of his collar and waved his hand for Luigi. The harried chef rushed in from the kitchen.
“Get me Tony.”
“Yes, Uncle Frank.”
Luigi rushed to a phone on the kitchen wall. It didn't take long for Tony to arrive. Frank's “staff” were generally on the premises, cocooned in its terse corridors and closet-like enclosures.
“Uncle Frank?” The grim fellow stood, waiting for a nod of Frank's head to indicate he should sit. The nod didn't come.
“Tony. I want you to take them out—Bud Kramer and that imbecile, Ren. And find DiMarco and that whore—get rid of them, too. Take as many men as you need.”
“Yes, sir, Uncle Frank.”
“Now get outta here!”
As his minion made tracks, Frank leaned back and enjoyed his cup of steaming coffee. Ah, peace at last...
Bud burst through the door of McDonald's with Jorge in tow, his eagle-like eyes scanning the room before he was all the way through. The place was empty except for a couple seated by the window. The man's back was to them, but the hair was DiMarco's coal black. The girl was no prize, but Bud had no idea what the whore was supposed to look like.
He turned and grabbed Jorge by the collar and hissed in his ear. “Is that your buddy?”
“I don't know...could be. I can't see his face.”
“Well, let's find out, shall we?” Bud rushed up and spun the man around, then flinched. The man wasn't Vic.
“What the fuck you doing?” the guy screamed, pulling himself free of the man's grasp.
Bud pulled back in horror. What was he doing? Accosting innocent people, bullying them. What was happening to him? His intensity about Janie was making him a crazy bastard. He had to get a grip.
“Look man, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Get away from me, you son of a bitch!”
Bud grabbed Jorge and dragged him out of the restaurant. He felt the anger broiling in his chest again. He pulled Jorge close. “Are you bull-shitting me or was he really supposed to be in there?”
“That's what he told me! I wouldn't shit you, man!”
“Yeah, right!” Bud leaned against the building in exhaustion. What next? His eyes rested on the boulevard out front. He bolted up. A black Cadillac was cruising toward the red light. “That's Uncle Frank's thugs! I'd know that car anywhere!”
“So what! I don't want anything to do with them!”
Bud grabbed Jorge and shoved him in his car. “Yes, you do. We're following them. I'm not taking my eyes off you, so you're coming with me.”
The Cadillac wove through city streets with ease. It never missed a green light and flew just above the speed limit getting from point A to point B with style and grace. Bud was hard put to keep up. He was surprised when the car turned onto a desolate bridge on the edge of town and stopped. A fast-moving river flowed beneath it. Bud knew full well what would happen next.
Two men got out of the car and opened the trunk, lifting a large dark bundle out and with a heave-ho hoisted it up and over the railing. The Cadillac sped away before the waters calmed.
“Looked like we're going to have to get a crew down here to fish that up and see who Uncle Frank has bumped off now,” Bud murmured, reaching for his cell. “Poor soul!”
Thursday, December 27, 2007
chapter forty nine
chain fiction chapter 49
word count: 523
frank malleo replaced the receiver.. this was a mess.. a fucking mess.. how the hell did all of this happen as a result of one dead junkie?? sure he was his brother wally's kid,, god rest his soul... but he was a filthy piece of drug addict shit,, and truth be told frank had wanted to kill the little son of a bitch on more than one occasion himself...
"i shoulda' just wacked the little mother fucker years ago... none of this would have happened...." frank allowed himself to dream for just a moment...
something had to be done.. something to put an end to all of this now.. once and for all.. over.. out of sight out of mind... that was it... bud and ren and di marco and that fucking whore,,, gone.. all of them.. the end.. put this whole thing to bed,, "and then," frank thought to himself as he surveyed the deep circles that were forming around his already sunken dark eyes,, "then i can get some rest...."
the call had been placed.. one small matter of business remained unfinished here,, and then he would have a nice breakfast.. food had always made him feel better.. he had his mama to thank for that....
as frank strode thru the kitchen,, he told luigi he was feeling especially down today,, "a nice frittata might be just the thing.. oh and a side of hot cakes,, yeah,, that ought to do it...." said frank with his forever embracing warm smile,, and that spark in his eye,, that let luigi know,, whatever had the don down,, he was no part of it...
with relief and a feeling of reinforced security,, luigi opened the large side by side,, and surveyed the contents.. this would have to be the frittata to beat all frittata's.. luigi would personally see to it that it was...
frank continued on thru the maze of hallways in the back of the building,, hallways that were specifically designed years ago,, to more often than not,, go no where.. hallways that had on more than one occasion meant the difference between freedom and captivity to frank himself,, and life and death for many others..
he finally stopped in front of a pair of metal doors,, no handle,, no push bar,, just doors.. he removed a brick to the right of the doors,, slipped a key off his vast ring in the slot, and watched as the doors disengaged.
he kicked the door noisily out in front of himself,, as if to surprise anyone that might be laying in wait on the other side..
no one was there... no one accept a useless scrap of a man,,there on the floor... still hog tied,, still blindfolded,, laying shivering in a pool of his own piss...
frank slipped the silenced 38 out of the rear waist band of his dark brown silk pants, and fired five shots.. he stepped back,, swung the door closed, replaced his revolver,, and proceeded to the kitchen to see how luigi was progressing on his breakfast...
a nice frittata sounded like just what he needed....
word count: 523
frank malleo replaced the receiver.. this was a mess.. a fucking mess.. how the hell did all of this happen as a result of one dead junkie?? sure he was his brother wally's kid,, god rest his soul... but he was a filthy piece of drug addict shit,, and truth be told frank had wanted to kill the little son of a bitch on more than one occasion himself...
"i shoulda' just wacked the little mother fucker years ago... none of this would have happened...." frank allowed himself to dream for just a moment...
something had to be done.. something to put an end to all of this now.. once and for all.. over.. out of sight out of mind... that was it... bud and ren and di marco and that fucking whore,,, gone.. all of them.. the end.. put this whole thing to bed,, "and then," frank thought to himself as he surveyed the deep circles that were forming around his already sunken dark eyes,, "then i can get some rest...."
the call had been placed.. one small matter of business remained unfinished here,, and then he would have a nice breakfast.. food had always made him feel better.. he had his mama to thank for that....
as frank strode thru the kitchen,, he told luigi he was feeling especially down today,, "a nice frittata might be just the thing.. oh and a side of hot cakes,, yeah,, that ought to do it...." said frank with his forever embracing warm smile,, and that spark in his eye,, that let luigi know,, whatever had the don down,, he was no part of it...
with relief and a feeling of reinforced security,, luigi opened the large side by side,, and surveyed the contents.. this would have to be the frittata to beat all frittata's.. luigi would personally see to it that it was...
frank continued on thru the maze of hallways in the back of the building,, hallways that were specifically designed years ago,, to more often than not,, go no where.. hallways that had on more than one occasion meant the difference between freedom and captivity to frank himself,, and life and death for many others..
he finally stopped in front of a pair of metal doors,, no handle,, no push bar,, just doors.. he removed a brick to the right of the doors,, slipped a key off his vast ring in the slot, and watched as the doors disengaged.
he kicked the door noisily out in front of himself,, as if to surprise anyone that might be laying in wait on the other side..
no one was there... no one accept a useless scrap of a man,,there on the floor... still hog tied,, still blindfolded,, laying shivering in a pool of his own piss...
frank slipped the silenced 38 out of the rear waist band of his dark brown silk pants, and fired five shots.. he stepped back,, swung the door closed, replaced his revolver,, and proceeded to the kitchen to see how luigi was progressing on his breakfast...
a nice frittata sounded like just what he needed....
Saturday, December 15, 2007
chapter forty eight
word count: 550
"Look at me! You've got to be kidding!" They stood outside Macy's window, gazing at their reflections. Jessa clenched her fists and stood rigid, glaring, ready to explode. Her hair, flattened and combed down straight went perfectly with the "sunday-go-to-meetin'" pants suit which boasted a silk blouse with a matching scarf tied in the front and, of course, 'practical' shoes. Tiny eyeglasses perched on her nose in a blatant aura of intellectuality.
"You'd better rip that jewelry off your fingers...and those fake nails, too."
"No freakin' way!"
Do you want them to find us and kill us? That get-up is a dead giveaway that something's up." He tilted his Fedora and buttoned his top button, next straightening his plain blue tie.
"We look like Lois Lane and Clark Kent from those old TV shows."
"That's better than looking like who we really are. We'll blend into the office crowd downtown here. Now I just have to figure out what to do next. I want to get the fuck out of town."
Jessa surveyed the secretaries and desk clerks milling all around. They did fit in. "Why don't we catch an Amtrak or a bus?"
"I thought we might, but that's so easy to stop and search. I got another idea." With that remark, he turned on his heel and waved for a taxi. A rattling yellow cab pulled up.
"You on the clock? I need to go about 50 miles. Can you handle it?"
"Sure. Hop in."
As they settled in the back, the driver asked, "Where to?"
"I'm not really sure. Just head north." He leaned forward and handed the guy a wad of bills. "As far as this takes us."
The cabbie grabbed the money with a big smile. "No problem."
Jessa leaned close and whispered in Vic's ear. "What the hell we going north for? Why not south? I mean, who goes north, for Gawd's sake?"
Vic smiled back, a cocky grin. "Exactly, 'who goes north?'--you get it? They'll never think we'd go north either."
He relaxed. It felt good to be off the street where they might be spotted. Ever since he called Jorge from the restaurant, he had an uneasy feeling. Not that he didn't trust Jorge, but hey, these were desperate times. Anything could happen.
The whore leaned closer. He could feel her body heat blending with his, streaming along his thigh. Her hand tickled between his legs. The wench, teasing him. He could feel his body reacting... hardening, aching to be satiated. If he could close off the front of the cab and have the back seat free from view, he'd push her down on him and get relief. Oh fuck...he needed to do that... his breath caught in his throat. The sensations emanating from his groin were beginning to overpower...there's be no denying "little Vic" soon...
He bolted up! Outside...the cab was passing McDonald's where he and Jessa had been earlier. Walking through the front door was Jorge, and he wasn't alone. Bud Kramer sprinted by his side.
Vic ducked low in the seat, pulling Jessa down with him. The two men didn't see him. They were through the door before the cab got close. "Get this buggy moving, dammit!" he told the driver. "I want out of town fast!"
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
chapter forty seven
word count: 830
bud pointed ren in the direction of the lazy boy and the remote,, as he made a pot of coffee,, and dissolved four of janeys sleeping tablets in the light sweet cup he fixed for ren...
while ren enjoyed his coffee and a little channel surfing,, bud showered,, redressed and perfected his time line....
as he entered the living room,, ren was in the fully reclined position sleeping like a baby... bud checked the cup,, he had drained it... thank god...
bud set the timer on his watch for five hours,, as he set off out the door.. he figured he had five hours in which he had to locate jorge,, locate vic,, and get back here before ren awoke...
bud returned to the prison. he "re-interviewed" martinez. getting jorge's contact information with out too much difficulty in light of the fact that he had advised martinez,, just in case he was reluctant to cooperate,, that they were prepared to charge him with "accessory to murders, plural. three of them so far,, and the longer you hold off,, the longer the list will become"...
staring at three life sentences or a minimum 75 years inside,, getting martinez to spill his cousins address and cell number was as easy as getting ren to have just one more donut....
he was not even out of the parking lot of the prison before he had jorge on the phone... he told him some bullshit about vic being on the move,, and needing him to meet him at the pay phone in the parking lot of the seven eleven on 34th and clark.. he ended the call with "and vic said, don't fuck this up like you did the fucking bucket thing,, whatever that means... he said you would understand....." and abruptly snapped his cell closed....
bud parked in the liquor store parking lot across the street from the seven eleven.. he wasn't there more than a few minutes when he saw a beat up old white pick up pull up in front of the pay phone...
as jorge sat obediently in the truck and waited for vic to arrive,, bud crossed the street and sauntered toward the truck.. he walked toward the pay phone,, digging in his pocket like he was trying to rustle up some change. he approached the passengers side door,, saying something to jorge about "having change for a dollar.." when jorge looked up,, bud stuck his 45 thru the window of the truck, and yelled "freeze!!"
"chinga madre..." was all jorge could say,, as bud explained to him that he had every intention of blowing his fucking brains out if he did not take him to vic dimarco... now....
jorge,, having no desire to die protecting a cheap piece of shit like vic di marco,, took bud right to the hotel room.. bud accompanied him to the door,, and they knocked.. nothing..
"you better not be playing with me motherfucker ,, i am telling you i am in no mood to play..." bud snapped at jorge,, the 45 in his ribcage emphasizing the point...
"no ,, man i am telling you,, i fucking dropped him off here,, him and that whore,, the one with the cuffs.. i am telling you ,, they were here... " jorge pleaded,, knowing bud didn't believe him,, the one time in his life he was telling the fucking truth....
bud jimmied the window free and knocked the screen to the floor,, he pulled back the curtain.. the room was empty... but,, as nearly as he could tell,, jorge had been telling the truth,, amongst the discarded beer cans bud saw a pair of bolt cutters laying on the foot of the bed,, and some severed handcuffs on the counter near the bathroom sink... fuck..
"get back in the truck..." he said as he nudged jorge in the direction of the stairs....
three hours and fifteen minutes to go.... bud sat silent for a moment,, his thoughts consumed with his janey... what the fuck was his next move?? he had been so sure,, so positive that he could pull this off,, that he could get to di marco,, and back to ren and pull this whole thing together... his thoughts were jarred by the unfamiliar ringing of a cell phone,, jorge's cell phone...
"answer it!" bud directed as he stuck the gun under jorges jaw,, and pressed it in for good measure.....
"diga mi"
"vic!!" jorge exclaimed loudly as a bit of the color returned to his face... he pointed to the phone,, signaling bud that it was vic on the phone...
"macdonalds?? which one?? no problemo mi amigo,, estoy viniendo,, i'm coming, i am on my way..... " he exhaled for what felt like the first time since he had met bud and his side kick, 45....
they drove toward the macdonalds at which they had been instructed to pick up vic fucking di marco and his whore,, in silence,, each of them was privately thanking god for small favors.....
bud pointed ren in the direction of the lazy boy and the remote,, as he made a pot of coffee,, and dissolved four of janeys sleeping tablets in the light sweet cup he fixed for ren...
while ren enjoyed his coffee and a little channel surfing,, bud showered,, redressed and perfected his time line....
as he entered the living room,, ren was in the fully reclined position sleeping like a baby... bud checked the cup,, he had drained it... thank god...
bud set the timer on his watch for five hours,, as he set off out the door.. he figured he had five hours in which he had to locate jorge,, locate vic,, and get back here before ren awoke...
bud returned to the prison. he "re-interviewed" martinez. getting jorge's contact information with out too much difficulty in light of the fact that he had advised martinez,, just in case he was reluctant to cooperate,, that they were prepared to charge him with "accessory to murders, plural. three of them so far,, and the longer you hold off,, the longer the list will become"...
staring at three life sentences or a minimum 75 years inside,, getting martinez to spill his cousins address and cell number was as easy as getting ren to have just one more donut....
he was not even out of the parking lot of the prison before he had jorge on the phone... he told him some bullshit about vic being on the move,, and needing him to meet him at the pay phone in the parking lot of the seven eleven on 34th and clark.. he ended the call with "and vic said, don't fuck this up like you did the fucking bucket thing,, whatever that means... he said you would understand....." and abruptly snapped his cell closed....
bud parked in the liquor store parking lot across the street from the seven eleven.. he wasn't there more than a few minutes when he saw a beat up old white pick up pull up in front of the pay phone...
as jorge sat obediently in the truck and waited for vic to arrive,, bud crossed the street and sauntered toward the truck.. he walked toward the pay phone,, digging in his pocket like he was trying to rustle up some change. he approached the passengers side door,, saying something to jorge about "having change for a dollar.." when jorge looked up,, bud stuck his 45 thru the window of the truck, and yelled "freeze!!"
"chinga madre..." was all jorge could say,, as bud explained to him that he had every intention of blowing his fucking brains out if he did not take him to vic dimarco... now....
jorge,, having no desire to die protecting a cheap piece of shit like vic di marco,, took bud right to the hotel room.. bud accompanied him to the door,, and they knocked.. nothing..
"you better not be playing with me motherfucker ,, i am telling you i am in no mood to play..." bud snapped at jorge,, the 45 in his ribcage emphasizing the point...
"no ,, man i am telling you,, i fucking dropped him off here,, him and that whore,, the one with the cuffs.. i am telling you ,, they were here... " jorge pleaded,, knowing bud didn't believe him,, the one time in his life he was telling the fucking truth....
bud jimmied the window free and knocked the screen to the floor,, he pulled back the curtain.. the room was empty... but,, as nearly as he could tell,, jorge had been telling the truth,, amongst the discarded beer cans bud saw a pair of bolt cutters laying on the foot of the bed,, and some severed handcuffs on the counter near the bathroom sink... fuck..
"get back in the truck..." he said as he nudged jorge in the direction of the stairs....
three hours and fifteen minutes to go.... bud sat silent for a moment,, his thoughts consumed with his janey... what the fuck was his next move?? he had been so sure,, so positive that he could pull this off,, that he could get to di marco,, and back to ren and pull this whole thing together... his thoughts were jarred by the unfamiliar ringing of a cell phone,, jorge's cell phone...
"answer it!" bud directed as he stuck the gun under jorges jaw,, and pressed it in for good measure.....
"diga mi"
"vic!!" jorge exclaimed loudly as a bit of the color returned to his face... he pointed to the phone,, signaling bud that it was vic on the phone...
"macdonalds?? which one?? no problemo mi amigo,, estoy viniendo,, i'm coming, i am on my way..... " he exhaled for what felt like the first time since he had met bud and his side kick, 45....
they drove toward the macdonalds at which they had been instructed to pick up vic fucking di marco and his whore,, in silence,, each of them was privately thanking god for small favors.....
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Chapter forty six
word count: 847
"We gotta get outta here," Vic muttered under his breath. The last thing he wanted was Uncle Frank's thugs to realize he saw them load a body into their car. Hell, he'd be the next cadaver they took for a ride.
"I'm still hungry," the whore said, standing next to him. They were calm words, but a glance her way showed she was trembling as much as he.
"Right, let's go."
The warmly lit McDonald's was a great relief. They pushed other patrons aside to get in, in to safety, away from the carnage they'd seen a few blocks away.
The teenage clerk eyed them warily. "CanITakeYourOrder?"...It all came out a like a rumbling freight train. He tapped his fingers on the counter and glanced away.
"What do you want?" Vic asked.
"Pancakes and sausage." Her voice chirped it out like a happy five-year old.
"Make it two...and coffee, lots of coffee."
When they settled at a table, the girl grabbed her food like an animal, fumbling for the plastic fork, tearing open the container.
"I guess your mother never taught you table manners." He opened his utensil packet calmly and spread the napkin on his lap.
She looked up from her syrup-deluged pancake stack, fork in hand, stating, "Don't talk about my mother."
"Sensitive issue, I see."
She glared back. "Did it ever occur to you I'm a person, not just some whore you can force to go down on you whenever you like. I got a family and stuff just like you. I'm a person!"
"Okay. Okay!" Other people were staring. He could feel their eyes cutting into his skin. Their conversation, louder than it should be, didn't help either. He started his stack of pancakes. In his annoyed state, they slid down his throat like cotton balls, sticking along the way.
His eyes rested on her skinny fingers, clutching the fork in a fist like a farmer's wife. Except unlike a farmer's wife, her fingers and thumbs were riddled with cheap rings and her long fake nails boasted a ghastly shade of black. Her bare arms were so skinny, it was hard to believe a living person possessed them. The last time he'd seen arms that thin was his Aunt Frieda days before she succumbed to cancer.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing...nothing." He studied her face, so thin, etched at the moment with lines of outrage. With her dark hair spiking out all around, she looked like a scarecrow. He ran his eyes down to her breasts, held captive in a tight shell which hardly diminished their significant size. It looked like balloons stuffed in there. No wonder people were staring at them.
"Quit looking at me. Dammit!" She returned to her meal, eating slower now that her initial hunger had been sated. As she savored each bite, her expression took on a childlike innocence.
"I didn't mean to stare. I'm sorry."
"Well, I'd appreciate you treating me better. I'm just saying, I deserve better."
"You're a whore!"
"Well. I'm a person, too! Why don't you call me by my name once in a while, instead of 'Hey you' or something?"
People were staring again. His brain was muddled. "What is your name anyway?"
"Jessa! Dammit, my name is Jessa!"
"Okay...Jessa." His eyes traveled to the entrance. He was always on the lookout. When you had as many dirty deals going down as he did, you kept your eyes open. Two big men came through the door. Vic's heart slammed to the floor. "Get down!" he said, grabbing Jessa's wrist to squeeze his point home. He motioned she should duck under the table. They met there, bumping heads.
"What the hell is it?"
"Uncle Frank's men. The ones we saw. They know me. Can't let them see me."
"Oh shit! From the fucking frying pan to the fire."
"Stay still." He peeked up, scanned the restaurant. Bending back down, he whispered, "I don't see them. Let's run for it."
"What about my breakfast?"
"Bring it with you! I don't care. Let's go!"
They scurried like mice, out the front door and off to the nearest alley, stopping to catch their breaths, leaning against a wall.
"Good! I think we made it," Vic said.
"Can I finish eating now?" Jessa had her plate of pancakes. She lifted one with her bare fingers and stuffed it in her mouth.
Vic was busy thinking and didn't notice. "You know what?" he said. We need to change our appearance. We're gonna get caught if we don't do something. He paused to look at her. "I think you need some different clothes, maybe a ladies' suit, some old lady shoes, flatten your hair down, maybe some fake glasses, perhaps a 'librarian'-look."
"Old lady shoes? No way! What the hell are you talking about?"
"We're going to Macy's and get some clothes so we blend in. No matter how far we travel, they're gonna find us if we look like this. And if they find us, we're dead meat. Now come on, let's go."
Friday, December 7, 2007
chapter forty five
word count: 694
sated now,, ren eased back in his chair and emitted a contented belch..."so,, you want i should call down for the other one?? whats his name?? martinez??"
"what i want,, is for you to call your uncle frank and check on janey.." bud barked at ren,, doing his best to filter out the disgust in his voice...
"not a problem..." ren retorted as he withdrew his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and popped a single digit speed dial number...
bud was playing out every possible scenario for getting himself free of ren.. killing him now,, was out of the question.. loosing him equally as bad an option,, either way would have capos crawling out of the woodwork,, and put janey's life in the ultimate danger...
"hey... is my uncle frank around??" ren spoke somberly into the phone. he knew this was killing bud,, and had he had his druthers,, he would not have put him through this... but it was out of his hands.. like so many things in this life.. just out of his hands....
as ren waited obediently for audience on the phone,, bud arrived at what he deduced to be the only way to separate himself from ren,, and do it in such a way that neither ren nor his family of dago slime balls would be any the wiser...
sleep had become an unnatural act for janey over the course of her progressive illness. though they never really talked about it,, bud knew she had been addicted to a variety of sleeping pills over the years. he had turned a blind eye.. he had wanted her to be comfortable,, to be happy,, as happy as she could be living her lonely solitary life in a chair...
he knew her tolerance to the sleeping pills was outrageous,, it was not unheard of for her to take them four or five at a time,, in order to just be able to fall asleep... and that was never a guarantee she would stay there...
he also knew the last few times he had picked up her prescriptions for her, she had been prescribed flunitrazepam, rohypnol, on the street they called them "roofies" or the "date rape drug"... one of the most potent benzodiazepine on the market...
"uncle frank, how ya doin'??" ren spoke as if he was making a social call... there was a period of silence,, as he listened intently,, ren stood and walked toward the vending machine.. he struggled his hand into his pocket and withdrew a hand full of change as he spoke,, "yeah,, thats why i'm calling... " he fiddled two quarters out of the mess and managed to slip them in the slot on the machine... " yeah,, yeah,, i gottcha... hey,, you got it..." he said as he snapped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket...
if bud could just get a couple of the roofies down ren,, it would buy some time,,, time in which he could get an exact address on martinez cousin,, jorge,, and pay him a little visit,, without anyone in the yacovella family even knowing what was going on... it was a shot in the dark,, but the only shot he had right now.. he had to take it... janey's life was on the line....
ren searched the glass plated vending machine for a moment,, before he said, "fuck it" clicked on the coin return and retrieved his money...
"nothing to report on that end... everything is fine.. uncle frank says to tell you not to worry,, they wouldn't do anything to hurt her..." he knew how unconvincing he sounded,, but that was the best he could do.. he was breathless,, he knew if bud found out what uncle frank had really said,, he was a dead man...
"i gotta get the hell outta here.. i need a fuckin' shower and a change of clothes,, and a good cup of coffee.. i cant fucking think anymore..." bud said as he stood and walked toward the door,, he wasn't giving ren any chance to oppose him,, he either followed him or got left behind,, and he knew he couldn't afford to be left behind...
sated now,, ren eased back in his chair and emitted a contented belch..."so,, you want i should call down for the other one?? whats his name?? martinez??"
"what i want,, is for you to call your uncle frank and check on janey.." bud barked at ren,, doing his best to filter out the disgust in his voice...
"not a problem..." ren retorted as he withdrew his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and popped a single digit speed dial number...
bud was playing out every possible scenario for getting himself free of ren.. killing him now,, was out of the question.. loosing him equally as bad an option,, either way would have capos crawling out of the woodwork,, and put janey's life in the ultimate danger...
"hey... is my uncle frank around??" ren spoke somberly into the phone. he knew this was killing bud,, and had he had his druthers,, he would not have put him through this... but it was out of his hands.. like so many things in this life.. just out of his hands....
as ren waited obediently for audience on the phone,, bud arrived at what he deduced to be the only way to separate himself from ren,, and do it in such a way that neither ren nor his family of dago slime balls would be any the wiser...
sleep had become an unnatural act for janey over the course of her progressive illness. though they never really talked about it,, bud knew she had been addicted to a variety of sleeping pills over the years. he had turned a blind eye.. he had wanted her to be comfortable,, to be happy,, as happy as she could be living her lonely solitary life in a chair...
he knew her tolerance to the sleeping pills was outrageous,, it was not unheard of for her to take them four or five at a time,, in order to just be able to fall asleep... and that was never a guarantee she would stay there...
he also knew the last few times he had picked up her prescriptions for her, she had been prescribed flunitrazepam, rohypnol, on the street they called them "roofies" or the "date rape drug"... one of the most potent benzodiazepine on the market...
"uncle frank, how ya doin'??" ren spoke as if he was making a social call... there was a period of silence,, as he listened intently,, ren stood and walked toward the vending machine.. he struggled his hand into his pocket and withdrew a hand full of change as he spoke,, "yeah,, thats why i'm calling... " he fiddled two quarters out of the mess and managed to slip them in the slot on the machine... " yeah,, yeah,, i gottcha... hey,, you got it..." he said as he snapped the phone closed and returned it to his pocket...
if bud could just get a couple of the roofies down ren,, it would buy some time,,, time in which he could get an exact address on martinez cousin,, jorge,, and pay him a little visit,, without anyone in the yacovella family even knowing what was going on... it was a shot in the dark,, but the only shot he had right now.. he had to take it... janey's life was on the line....
ren searched the glass plated vending machine for a moment,, before he said, "fuck it" clicked on the coin return and retrieved his money...
"nothing to report on that end... everything is fine.. uncle frank says to tell you not to worry,, they wouldn't do anything to hurt her..." he knew how unconvincing he sounded,, but that was the best he could do.. he was breathless,, he knew if bud found out what uncle frank had really said,, he was a dead man...
"i gotta get the hell outta here.. i need a fuckin' shower and a change of clothes,, and a good cup of coffee.. i cant fucking think anymore..." bud said as he stood and walked toward the door,, he wasn't giving ren any chance to oppose him,, he either followed him or got left behind,, and he knew he couldn't afford to be left behind...
chapter forty four
word count: 732
Vic felt calmer now. The girl had finished, at gunpoint, what he needed her to do. Still gasping for breath, he kicked her away from his crouch, sending the handcuffed whore rolling into the corner. His hand grasping the gun hug low and useless only for a second. Even in the midst of orgasm, he knew to keep his guard up. This bitch was tricky.
"Now I can think," he sputtered in between breaths that came like volcanic eruptions, only in reverse.
"What the fuck did you kick me away for?" the girl whined, crawling back as best she could manage. Her eyes were always on the gun, even now, as she struggled to keep from toppling over, her balance totally off because of the cuffs.
"I'll tell you what, I got a lot on my mind, so shut up, okay. I don't want to have to gag you." He struggled to zip his trousers with one available hand, while the other still clutched the weapon. "I'm worried about Jorge. Everyone knows following him is likely to lead to me."
"So what?"
"So what? I got a feeling a lot of people would like to get their hands on me. You do realize I've been strong-arming the mafia, don't you? And that Kramer guy, he's always out there snooping around."
"No skin off of my nose."
"You think not? You think they won't take out a two-bit whore just for a little target practice? We gotta dump Jorge and get out of here."
"Let me go. You don't need me."
"I'm not leaving you behind to squeal all about me to anyone who asks. I'm keeping an eye on you."
The whore didn't respond. She sat close, her eyes staring back like tiny black dots. Her hands trembled. She looked away to hide her vulnerability. The bitch needed a fix. Couldn't deal with that now. "You know," he said, "you'd be smarter to work with me rather than against me. Let's face it, we're in the same puddle of shit. We should be helping each other instead of fighting." He reached over and lifted her face up to look her in the eyes. "What do you say? Will you work with me a little here?"
For what it was worth, she nodded.
"Okay, we're out of here. Jorge has gone for a while. If we leave now, he'll never know what happened." He helped her up and creaked open the door. All clear. "I'm taking the cuffs off you, but I've still got a gun. Remember, we need to stick together, you got it?"
She nodded. He could only hope for the best, but he'd kill her to keep her quiet if she bolted, and she knew that. She had to know that. He was crazy, surely she realized he was insane, right?
It was a new day outside. The sun was just rising, casting a soft orange glow over the busy city, bouncing off skyscrapers, softening their importance. Hard to believe they could be in so much shit on such a gentle morning. Oh well, grab a sniff of the good life when you can.
"Look, we're going on foot. A car is too hard to trace. Maybe a bus or train, I dunno."
"Where?"
"I dunno. Let's just head for the train station."
"I'm hungry."
"Huh?"
"We haven't eaten since yesterday. I'm hungry."
"Okay, okay. Maybe some fast food. Gotta be careful not to show our faces around, you know." Truth be told, he was hungry, too. He was always hungry after sex, and the whore's blow job had made him ravenous. They walked quickly toward a McDonald's at the edge of town, side-stepping the usual junkies littering the sidewalk. As they neared Malleo's, Vic grabbed the whore.
"Look, I don't want to walk past the front door. That damn place is Mafia-Central. Let's cut through the alley."
Even by morning's light, Malleo's aromas filled their nostrils as they slid between buildings to the alley. When they arrived, he pulled the whore back with an abrupt motion. Malleo's loading dock was a busy place today. A Cadillac was parked, trunk open, and two busboys were loading a huge plastic bag into it.
Vic shuddered, startling the girl. "What's wrong?" she whispered.
Vic shook his head in horror. "That's a body. They're loading a body into the trunk!"
Vic felt calmer now. The girl had finished, at gunpoint, what he needed her to do. Still gasping for breath, he kicked her away from his crouch, sending the handcuffed whore rolling into the corner. His hand grasping the gun hug low and useless only for a second. Even in the midst of orgasm, he knew to keep his guard up. This bitch was tricky.
"Now I can think," he sputtered in between breaths that came like volcanic eruptions, only in reverse.
"What the fuck did you kick me away for?" the girl whined, crawling back as best she could manage. Her eyes were always on the gun, even now, as she struggled to keep from toppling over, her balance totally off because of the cuffs.
"I'll tell you what, I got a lot on my mind, so shut up, okay. I don't want to have to gag you." He struggled to zip his trousers with one available hand, while the other still clutched the weapon. "I'm worried about Jorge. Everyone knows following him is likely to lead to me."
"So what?"
"So what? I got a feeling a lot of people would like to get their hands on me. You do realize I've been strong-arming the mafia, don't you? And that Kramer guy, he's always out there snooping around."
"No skin off of my nose."
"You think not? You think they won't take out a two-bit whore just for a little target practice? We gotta dump Jorge and get out of here."
"Let me go. You don't need me."
"I'm not leaving you behind to squeal all about me to anyone who asks. I'm keeping an eye on you."
The whore didn't respond. She sat close, her eyes staring back like tiny black dots. Her hands trembled. She looked away to hide her vulnerability. The bitch needed a fix. Couldn't deal with that now. "You know," he said, "you'd be smarter to work with me rather than against me. Let's face it, we're in the same puddle of shit. We should be helping each other instead of fighting." He reached over and lifted her face up to look her in the eyes. "What do you say? Will you work with me a little here?"
For what it was worth, she nodded.
"Okay, we're out of here. Jorge has gone for a while. If we leave now, he'll never know what happened." He helped her up and creaked open the door. All clear. "I'm taking the cuffs off you, but I've still got a gun. Remember, we need to stick together, you got it?"
She nodded. He could only hope for the best, but he'd kill her to keep her quiet if she bolted, and she knew that. She had to know that. He was crazy, surely she realized he was insane, right?
It was a new day outside. The sun was just rising, casting a soft orange glow over the busy city, bouncing off skyscrapers, softening their importance. Hard to believe they could be in so much shit on such a gentle morning. Oh well, grab a sniff of the good life when you can.
"Look, we're going on foot. A car is too hard to trace. Maybe a bus or train, I dunno."
"Where?"
"I dunno. Let's just head for the train station."
"I'm hungry."
"Huh?"
"We haven't eaten since yesterday. I'm hungry."
"Okay, okay. Maybe some fast food. Gotta be careful not to show our faces around, you know." Truth be told, he was hungry, too. He was always hungry after sex, and the whore's blow job had made him ravenous. They walked quickly toward a McDonald's at the edge of town, side-stepping the usual junkies littering the sidewalk. As they neared Malleo's, Vic grabbed the whore.
"Look, I don't want to walk past the front door. That damn place is Mafia-Central. Let's cut through the alley."
Even by morning's light, Malleo's aromas filled their nostrils as they slid between buildings to the alley. When they arrived, he pulled the whore back with an abrupt motion. Malleo's loading dock was a busy place today. A Cadillac was parked, trunk open, and two busboys were loading a huge plastic bag into it.
Vic shuddered, startling the girl. "What's wrong?" she whispered.
Vic shook his head in horror. "That's a body. They're loading a body into the trunk!"
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
chapter forty three
word count: 599
"focus,, focus,, you will never get anywhere swirling around in your own dust,," bud chanted to himself silently, in the dimly lighted recesses of his overloaded, aching brain...
he forced himself to focus on the interview...
"you are so full of shit... you might as well save it though,,, i don't know nothing,, so it isn't going to do you any good to be making up horror stories to get me to spill something i don't know..." jason seethed,, looking straight into buds worn,, bloodshot eyes...
even as the words escaped his lips,, he could tell bud wasn't making all of this up... he could tell bud had not the energy to make any of this up.. something was wrong,, something was different.... a cold chill ran the length of his spine,, as he waited in silence for bud to say something... 15 seconds... 30 seconds,, 45 seconds...
"come the fuck on man... what the hell is going on here??? who could possibly even know i know jessa??" he paused,, "except the fucking screws that let her in here.. damn it,, damn it,," he stood and started pacing wringing his hands looking around wildly.. "its them isn't it?? those fuckers... i told martinez not to get involved with those fuckers... i told him it would be drama.. god damn it.. "
"keep doing exactly what you are doing,, don't look at me,, but listen.. act like i am not saying what i am about to say... it is our only chance, alexander,, yours and mine.. no matter what we think about each other,, or have ever thought about each other,, you and me,, we have to pull together on this.. do you get me on this?" bud said pleadingly.. he could not stop his own agony from showing thru...
jason stood at the end of the table,, he placed his palms on the stable and leaned into toward bud.. he looked him directly in the eyes and said,, "i don't know why i am even telling you this.. but for some reason i believe you.. deputy di marco... that is the guy martinez hooked up with his cousin jorge to dispose of the buckets... i swear to god,, that is all i know.. "
they heard the door open,, bud looked up at ren with a look of disgust,, "call in the babysitter in outta the hall,, will ya ren,, this little fucker doesn't know a thing..." bud barked,, as he shot one last pleading glance at jason alexander... he stood and slammed his chair against the table as he pushed it in,, "i need a cup of coffee,, how about you??" he said as he went out the door and quickly down the hall.. he couldn't look ren in the eye.. not now..
di marco,, again with the di marco.. but now he had something to go on.. something no one knew a thing about but him... jorge,, martinez' cousin.. a connection on the outside,, a connection that just might be able to lead him to di marco... now all he had to figure out was how the hell was he going to shake ren malleo,, shake him without allowing him to know he had been shook....
bud looked on in amazement,, as across the table,, ren sat there loudly sucking stray sugar off each finger as if he hadn't another care in the world... as his stomach heaved with disgust,, bud promised himself,, if he made it out of this alive,, he was gonna kill that fat fucking two faced son of a bitch....
"focus,, focus,, you will never get anywhere swirling around in your own dust,," bud chanted to himself silently, in the dimly lighted recesses of his overloaded, aching brain...
he forced himself to focus on the interview...
"you are so full of shit... you might as well save it though,,, i don't know nothing,, so it isn't going to do you any good to be making up horror stories to get me to spill something i don't know..." jason seethed,, looking straight into buds worn,, bloodshot eyes...
even as the words escaped his lips,, he could tell bud wasn't making all of this up... he could tell bud had not the energy to make any of this up.. something was wrong,, something was different.... a cold chill ran the length of his spine,, as he waited in silence for bud to say something... 15 seconds... 30 seconds,, 45 seconds...
"come the fuck on man... what the hell is going on here??? who could possibly even know i know jessa??" he paused,, "except the fucking screws that let her in here.. damn it,, damn it,," he stood and started pacing wringing his hands looking around wildly.. "its them isn't it?? those fuckers... i told martinez not to get involved with those fuckers... i told him it would be drama.. god damn it.. "
"keep doing exactly what you are doing,, don't look at me,, but listen.. act like i am not saying what i am about to say... it is our only chance, alexander,, yours and mine.. no matter what we think about each other,, or have ever thought about each other,, you and me,, we have to pull together on this.. do you get me on this?" bud said pleadingly.. he could not stop his own agony from showing thru...
jason stood at the end of the table,, he placed his palms on the stable and leaned into toward bud.. he looked him directly in the eyes and said,, "i don't know why i am even telling you this.. but for some reason i believe you.. deputy di marco... that is the guy martinez hooked up with his cousin jorge to dispose of the buckets... i swear to god,, that is all i know.. "
they heard the door open,, bud looked up at ren with a look of disgust,, "call in the babysitter in outta the hall,, will ya ren,, this little fucker doesn't know a thing..." bud barked,, as he shot one last pleading glance at jason alexander... he stood and slammed his chair against the table as he pushed it in,, "i need a cup of coffee,, how about you??" he said as he went out the door and quickly down the hall.. he couldn't look ren in the eye.. not now..
di marco,, again with the di marco.. but now he had something to go on.. something no one knew a thing about but him... jorge,, martinez' cousin.. a connection on the outside,, a connection that just might be able to lead him to di marco... now all he had to figure out was how the hell was he going to shake ren malleo,, shake him without allowing him to know he had been shook....
bud looked on in amazement,, as across the table,, ren sat there loudly sucking stray sugar off each finger as if he hadn't another care in the world... as his stomach heaved with disgust,, bud promised himself,, if he made it out of this alive,, he was gonna kill that fat fucking two faced son of a bitch....
Monday, December 3, 2007
chapter forty two
chapter 42
word count: 514
The silence suffocated Jane. The crazy man hadn't spoken for the last hour. She had thought they were bonding when he admitted they were both victims in the same calamitous soup. But now he sat in the corner, curled up, aloof, as though she didn't exist. When he did at last speak, his voice sliced in acerbic cuts through the dark, digging deep.
"Yep. We're both victims, victims of your hubby."
"What?"
"Your hubby. I mean, he's chasing me down til I'm stuck in a hole, and he's abandoned you in this hellish cell, as well."
Jane shuddered. The very idea! "Bud did not abandon me."
"Sweetheart, we've been in here for days. It seems to me he doesn't want to get you back very much or he'd have gotten his precious wife out of here by now." He followed that with a chortle from deep in his throat.
"He's trying. I know he is." Her heart started again... thump, thump.
"In your dreams."
She could hear his shoes scraping the concrete floor, shifting position. The next time he spoke sounding closer, even though it was a whisper. "Seems to me this is a handy way to get rid of a useless wife...an invalid wife...let her die in some stinking basement somewhere."
"NO!"
"Mrs. Kramer, you're going to rot here, while hubby shops around for a new little missus. One with some signs of life below the waist."
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she roared, pulling against the ropes that bound her wrists, wishing her useless legs could propel her. She'd kill him! She'd go over and grab his neck and squeeze and squeeze...a pain in her chest...a pressure the size of an elephant slammed against her, squeezing the air out of her lungs....she couldn't breathe.
A crip like you shouldn't make empty threats," Stan returned. "Besides like you said, we're two peas in a pod, you and me. Hell, maybe we can get together since hubby don't want you." Now that would fix Bud Kramer, screw his wife.
She didn't answer.
"Ms. Kramer?" Nothing, not even a squeak from the wheelchair. Stan dragged himself to her. He found the woman's body slumped over. She was still. Was she breathing? He checked. Dragging back to the door, he pounded with both fists. "HEY! HEY! SOMEBODY! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE WOMAN! YOU BETTER GET HERE QUICK! Mission accomplished. He'd taken proper revenge on Bud Kramer, through his precious wife.
As Bud took his last sip of coffee, he placed the cup down, next folding his hands on the table to watch as Ren went for another donut. Unbelievable! A stab of fear suddenly overtook him, deep, resonating, the kind of fear you get in nightmares, uncontrolled. It swirls like a cyclone out of your reach, taunting you, hurting you, and you can't stop it. He felt light-headed as it took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of him. His head swirled while at the attack's conclusion, a black-fisted illusion of dread sucker-punched him in the face. What the hell? Something was wrong, very wrong.
word count: 514
The silence suffocated Jane. The crazy man hadn't spoken for the last hour. She had thought they were bonding when he admitted they were both victims in the same calamitous soup. But now he sat in the corner, curled up, aloof, as though she didn't exist. When he did at last speak, his voice sliced in acerbic cuts through the dark, digging deep.
"Yep. We're both victims, victims of your hubby."
"What?"
"Your hubby. I mean, he's chasing me down til I'm stuck in a hole, and he's abandoned you in this hellish cell, as well."
Jane shuddered. The very idea! "Bud did not abandon me."
"Sweetheart, we've been in here for days. It seems to me he doesn't want to get you back very much or he'd have gotten his precious wife out of here by now." He followed that with a chortle from deep in his throat.
"He's trying. I know he is." Her heart started again... thump, thump.
"In your dreams."
She could hear his shoes scraping the concrete floor, shifting position. The next time he spoke sounding closer, even though it was a whisper. "Seems to me this is a handy way to get rid of a useless wife...an invalid wife...let her die in some stinking basement somewhere."
"NO!"
"Mrs. Kramer, you're going to rot here, while hubby shops around for a new little missus. One with some signs of life below the waist."
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she roared, pulling against the ropes that bound her wrists, wishing her useless legs could propel her. She'd kill him! She'd go over and grab his neck and squeeze and squeeze...a pain in her chest...a pressure the size of an elephant slammed against her, squeezing the air out of her lungs....she couldn't breathe.
A crip like you shouldn't make empty threats," Stan returned. "Besides like you said, we're two peas in a pod, you and me. Hell, maybe we can get together since hubby don't want you." Now that would fix Bud Kramer, screw his wife.
She didn't answer.
"Ms. Kramer?" Nothing, not even a squeak from the wheelchair. Stan dragged himself to her. He found the woman's body slumped over. She was still. Was she breathing? He checked. Dragging back to the door, he pounded with both fists. "HEY! HEY! SOMEBODY! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE WOMAN! YOU BETTER GET HERE QUICK! Mission accomplished. He'd taken proper revenge on Bud Kramer, through his precious wife.
As Bud took his last sip of coffee, he placed the cup down, next folding his hands on the table to watch as Ren went for another donut. Unbelievable! A stab of fear suddenly overtook him, deep, resonating, the kind of fear you get in nightmares, uncontrolled. It swirls like a cyclone out of your reach, taunting you, hurting you, and you can't stop it. He felt light-headed as it took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of him. His head swirled while at the attack's conclusion, a black-fisted illusion of dread sucker-punched him in the face. What the hell? Something was wrong, very wrong.
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