Dirty Deeds

by Armand Rosamilia

  He looked sharply at me and nodded. “Yes. We lived on the streets together. We had each other’s back. If it wasn’t for Will I’d be long dead. He helped me kick the gear twice. I helped him three times.”

  “I guess that’s what friends are for. I’m really curious how it came down to you killing the guy and dumping him in the ocean?”

  He stared off for a few seconds before answering. “He knew who he was. His awful father told him when he was a kid in a drunken rage. Will couldn’t take it, and his parents always told him if he tried to contact the guy he’d be killed. Chenzo had paid for his murder. They thought he was dead. He started smoking pot at ten and got into the heavy stuff a couple of years later. Dude was a mess when I met him, and I was a nightmare by then with the drugs. I needed to get out of the lifestyle and off the streets. I begged Will to go see his dad. Get it straight and live the life you were supposed to lead. He wanted nothing from his real old man, who’d paid someone to kill him.”

  “Paid me,” I said.

  Chenzo Junior laughed. “Exactly.”

  “Why’d you save me? You could’ve kept your mouth shut and let Chenzo bury me,” I said.

  “Everyone has their place in life. Everyone can be used like in a game of checkers,” he said.

  “You mean chess.”

  “I never got into board games. Just using it as an example. I think you’re worth a lot more alive than dead right now. I might need to use your skills,” Chenzo Junior said.

  “I’d never work for you. I’m not a killer for hire, either.”

  He snapped his fingers. “True. But you are someone with a network for getting things done. You’re a guy who has information, which is all the real power today. You can do things I can only dream about.”

  “I’m not for sale and I don’t do favors,” I said. I was done talking to this lowlife. He was making me feel dirty just standing next to him. He knew I was tipping my hand because I’d never go to Chenzo with any of this information. I’d be a fool. A dead one, too.

  He scooped a glass of champagne off of a tray a waiter was carrying as it went past, threatening to knock the rest to the floor. The waiter wisely didn’t protest and was able to right the ship and keep moving.

  “Your face is starting to heal,” he said.

  I put a hand to my lip unconsciously. It had been hard to have anything touch my lips for a couple of days. I was beginning to see the black eyes had gone down from the heavy swelling and my nose as well. Nothing significant had been damaged but my pride.

  “I’ll be good as new before you know it. I know you’re worried about me,” I said.

  “I was worried one of my biggest assets in the future would be out of commission. I told you, I have a few things I’ll need help with. It would be in the best interests of you and my dad to get these things done,” he said.

  “You don’t really want to go this route. I can be quite a gentleman when I have to but don’t mistake this smile for a soft heart.” I leaned a little closer and winked. “Two Will Blacks washing up on the same beach at different times isn’t so hard to imagine.”

  “I’ll be in touch once I get a few things done,” he said.

  “Like what?” I had to ask.

  He grinned. “I’ll probably be attending a small memorial service in the next few weeks. I hear the roads in Vancouver are pretty treacherous, especially when you lose control of a Winnebago.”

  I watched him move away and into the crowd, smiling and laughing like he had no cares in the world. And he didn’t.

  A part of me wanted to call Keane or find someone in the Canadian police force to warn them about the accident the Black family was going to have soon.

  I couldn’t be bothered. I know I’m going to burn for it but they also deserved the bed they’d made. I had no sympathy for Frank Black and his horrible wife, and they were going to get what they deserved. I’d learn to live with myself for feeling the way I did.

  “I figured I’d give you and Junior some space to talk, but I know you’re probably starving,” Marisa said. She handed me a plate loaded with meats and a small salad.

  I decided to thank her for the food instead of making a snide remark. I really was hungry.

  “How long do you plan on staying?” she asked.

  “Until Chenzo notices me and smiles or waves. I don’t want to talk to him. I just want to get credit for being here. Then we can fly back to Atlanta and relax.”

  “You know another job will come in as soon as your head hits the pillow in your own house, right?”

  I smiled. “Of course. No rest for the wicked.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  I promised myself I’d enjoy the weekend in Miami once the convention doors closed and the sports card show was done for the day. I owed it to myself, right?

  It wasn’t like I was going to hit the clubs or go down to South Beach and dive into the ocean, but a nice stroll and maybe some window shopping before a sensible dinner and an early bedtime watching Fallon was in the cards.

  “Wow. You look great.”

  I turned to see the redhead and she liked what she was checking out. Me.

  “Thanks,” I said, breaking eye contact like a fifteen year old. I suddenly became very focused on the cards in the display in front of me, which were already laid out perfectly.

  She wasn’t good at taking hints or maybe she was done with the brief flirting and wanted to actually talk to me, and hope I talked back.

  “How was the Philly show for you?” she asked, leaning on my table across from me. I smelled her perfume and she smelled awesome.

  She smelled awesome? Now I felt like a fifteen year old.

  “The coast shows are always the best,” I said, not making eye contact. I knew if I looked into her gorgeous eyes I’d be a mess.

  “Are you doing San Diego again?”

  I nodded and made sure the perfectly straight binders to my right were still perfectly straight.

  There was an awkward pause and I was too stupid to add something witty, even if my mind could help instead of hinder me.

  “Well. . . good luck today,” she finally said and started to walk away.

  “Wait,” I said, a little too loud. A couple of the other vendors looked up form their work and more than one grinned. I was sure now everyone around us, the regulars we set up nearby during these bigger shows, knew what was going on. I was always the last to know.

  She stopped and turned. She was so pretty. Gosh golly, my fifteen year old inside screamed.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I said.

  “I’m Dee.”

  “I’m James.”

  She laughed. “I know.” Her laugh was really nice, too.

  “Are you flying right out after the show?” I asked, getting bold and forming actual sentences.

  Dee opened her eyes wide before recovering. She shook her head. “My flight back to Myrtle Beach isn’t until Sunday night. You?”

  “I fly back to Atlanta Sunday night, too,” I said, making another mental note to have Marisa change my early Sunday morning flight. This note I would remember.

  “Maybe we can get some dinner tonight?” Dee asked.

  I was about to protest out of habit but stopped myself. She was upfront and forceful and I really liked it. Why shouldn’t I hang out with this pretty lady instead of going right back to the hotel and getting to bed early, before another day of selling cards? I deserved it. I’d earned it.

  My face was healing up nicely and I could smile again without too much pain or popping ibuprofen like it was candy. Chalky gross candy.

  “Sure. I’d really like that,” I said and tried to make eye contact. I made it for a few seconds, until she smiled and her dimples smacked me in my face.

  Marisa was going to rip me apart if I told her about any of my feelings, and I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to take my man card from my wallet and rip it up and scatter it on the floor. Stomp on it.

  “Are you staying nearby?” she asked
.

  I really didn’t want to tell her where I was staying. The Setai on South Beach was over six hundred a night. Marisa had booked it for me, knowing I needed to be pampered for awhile after all I’d been through.

  I wanted to get off on the right foot with Dee and trying to explain why a guy selling baseball cards was paying more for a hotel a night than his setup at the show and how much money I’d technically be throwing away this weekend. . . I didn’t need the headache. I also wanted her to like me for me and not because I might be filthy crazy rich.

  Did she already know I had money? Is that why she was being flirty?

  She must’ve seen the war going on inside my head because she frowned. “Is everything alright?”

  I nodded, wiped the sweat from my forehead, and told myself to suck it up.

  I was a man’s man. I had my life together. I had more money than everyone in this room combined, and I’d gotten it because of hard work and smart investments. I did something completely illegal and yet completely noble. I’d been around the world and back and seen things most people will never even begin to imagine. I’ve been in ballrooms with the biggest crime bosses and senators and movie stars. I’d rubbed elbows with some of the richest and worst people in the country.

  I was worrying about this beautiful redhead not really liking me?

  I knew she did. She’d been trying to talk to me for the last two years at every event. Quite frankly, if I were her I would’ve given up. I was being the biggest idiot around. I didn’t deserve this many chances.

  “I’m fine. It’s a little warm in here today. I guess I’m getting old,” I said and smiled. I stopped what I was doing and concentrated on her face. I was not going to break eye contact. I was better than the weird dude I’d become.

  “You’re still a young man,” Dee said.

  “Age is more perspective,” I said. I knew it sounded lame and made no sense but she smiled anyway. I was really starting to like her.

  “I feel like I’m eighteen most days. I get to travel across the country and sell baseball cards to men who see a woman behind the table and think I don’t know the difference between Bryce and Tommy Harper,” Dee said.

  “Tommy’s rookie card doesn’t get the prices Bryce’s cards do,” I said.

  “Which is a shame. The buyers chase the next big thing and ignore the stars of yesteryear. We get to mark up prices and sell these guys before they go bust. I have a stack of Brien Taylor rookie cards if you’re interested,” Dee said.

  We both laughed. Taylor had been a monumental bust in 1991 as a can’t-miss pitching prospect for the New York Yankees. At his peak his cards were going for huge sums of money.

  Dee knew a few things. I was interested to see just how much she really knew about the sports card business and anything else about her.

  The announcement came over the PA system the room was about to open.

  “Is it a yes or no?” Dee asked.

  “What?”

  “Dinner, silly.”

  I nodded. “Of course. You pick the place and I’ll meet you there. Sounds like a date.”

  Sounds like a date? It is a date. Idiot.

  “Perfect. I’ll ask around. What are you in the mood for? There are a few really good Miami food places not far from here. Interested in eating what the locals eat?”

  “Whatever you want. I’m easy.”

  Dee smiled and walked back to her table. I watched her go and wanted to jump up and down like the fifteen year old I was inside but turned back to my table to get back focused on work.

  Just as the first pair of customers reached my table and began perusing the glass display cases and the five thousand count boxes set up on the side tables, my cell phone rang.

  “Hey, James. . . or should I say David?”

  I closed my eyes and my hand holding the phone shook.

  It was Harry.

  “You didn’t think I’d forget about you. I’m just getting started,” Harry said.

  I smiled at the customers and hoped they wouldn’t ask me any questions. I looked around for Marisa, who should’ve been back from getting our breakfast by now. I needed to excuse myself and talk to Harry in private.

  “What do you want?” I asked. He had me in an awkward spot right now. Did he know what I was doing? If he’d coincidentally called at this moment he’d soon figure out with all the background noise.

  “I want to remind you I’m still looking to collect on payment from you for not killing me all those years ago.”

  “It was ten years ago. You’re being a little dramatic,” I said. I decided the best course of action would be to get him so mad he’d screw up. More importantly, I was frustrated he’d called me to begin with. “How did you get this number?”

  “The same way I got all of your personal information. The same way I got your address in Atlanta and I spent last night watching your sixty inch television and eating your M&M’s. I’m very disappointed you don’t have a cat, though. I figured a guy like you, on the wrong side of forty and alone, would have a pet or three,” Harry said.

  The customer flow was steady but so far no one was looking to break the ice and buy something, which was fine with me.

  “I hope you’re joking about eating my M&M’s,” I finally said.

  “There aren’t any personal pictures anywhere in this house. Nothing with your name on it. The mail doesn’t even get delivered here. I can’t wait to check out all of your other properties. This is going to be such a fun trip,” Harry said.

  “I guess you’ll bore me to death first?”

  “I’m going to make your life a living hell, like you did for me.”

  “If I did the job I was paid to do we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but you should be thanking me,” I said.

  “My life was. . . unsettling.”

  “Boo hoo, buddy. Life is bad. Get over it and yourself. I’m sorry your stepparents never hugged you or let you play tee-ball. Don’t blame me for it. I’m sick of your generation thinking everyone owes you,” I said, suddenly feeling much older than forty-five. If we were talking in front of my house I’d yell for him to get off my lawn, damn kids.

  “I’m going to ruin your life like you did mine,” Harry whispered angrily.

  A guy walked up to the table and asked to see what signed Marlins cards I had. I held up a finger, hoping he would wait a second and not walk off.

  “You’re like a broken record. You keep repeating yourself. Come up with something new or I’m hanging up,” I said. Harry hadn’t thought through what he was going to say, obviously I guess he thought he could throw me with a few threats over and over.

  Harry laughed.

  “I’m hanging up now,” I said.

  “Before you go, I’d like you to say hi to someone.” I heard the phone moving around.

  “Boss, ignore this jerk. I’ll take care of him myself.”

  It was Marisa, and it sounded like she’d been crying.

  Harry was laughing in the background.

  “He’s a horrible date, too,” Marisa said.

  The phone was moved again and Harry was back.

  “Do I have your attention now?” Harry asked, sounding oh-so smug.

  “Yes,” I answered quietly.

  There was no way he was in Atlanta. I’d seen Marisa an hour ago when she left for coffee.

  “Enjoy your weekend. I’ll send you instructions on Sunday night when the show is over. Then the real show can begin,” Harry said.

  “I swear, if you hurt Marisa in any way I will hurt you ten times as hard,” I said.

  “Now it’s your turn to make idle threats. Nice,” Harry said. “Here’s the deal: if you go to the cops she’s dead. If you pull Keane out of retirement I will cut her into little pieces. If your new friend Chenzo even asks a question about me I will bury Marisa’s body where they’ll never find her. Do you understand?”

  Harry didn’t wait for an answer, disconnecting the line
and leaving me stunned.