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.....