by Glenn Gamble
Jim started to entertain her banter, but was more concerned with shooting an important text to Frank. Make sure each U-Haul truck has 1 driver in it. We’ll need each driver to be on point when hauling out. To say that Carla had a valid point would be an understatement. This was a flop motel located on the infamous strip on the east side of Chicago. The room was equipped with cable television, but the only channel that worked properly was the cheesy ebony porn channel which featured 80s crackheads sporting jheri curls and wildly contorted facial expressions. One of the lamps didn’t work properly. The heating/air conditioning unit was stolen and the out of order sign that was placed on the motel lobby’s ice machine had been taped onto the machine for so long that some of the tape had warped, which caused the sign to lean hopelessly to the right. This establishment wasn’t even worthy of fucking a dime bag hooker in, but Jim knew that no one would find them there right away.
“Jim, are you even listening to me?” Carla asked.
“Yes.”
“How can you be so comfortable then?” Carla whined.
“This place has its charm.”
“You know what, I’ll be glad when I won’t have to share a motel room with your cheap ass. Steve tells me you got all this money, yet you won’t rent a room where I can at least get the local news on the TV. You know…I mean, what’s the point of even trying to reason with you? You don’t care.”
“Would you shut the fuck up for once?” Jim yelled. “God…I’m surprised Steve never beat the fuck out of you. I totally wish I had left your punk ass in that house to complement Chuck as a side dish.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Carla asked.
“I have no idea, but if you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll put a bullet in you myself! Shit, one bullet in your skull would make life much easier on me. I could just disappear and no one would know what happened to me, but I just had to bring your punk ass into the equation, so be glad that I did before I take you out myself! Now hurry the fuck up so we can get out of here.”
###
Ten minutes later, both Jim and Carla were back on the expressway en route to Oak Brook, Illinois. Their awkward silence had continued from the time they left the motel until the time that they arrived in Oak Brook. Once Jim arrived at the storage facility, a carhop ran toward his car to fetch the keys. He turned off the engine, handed the keys to the carhop and instructed Carla to get out the car. She sat there without blinking an eye.
“You have five seconds to get the fuck out this car!”
Jim got out of the vehicle, awaiting Carla to do the same. When she didn’t, he rushed over to the passenger side of the vehicle. Just as he was going to pull Carla out to pistol-whip her, Jim’s anger softened at the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
“Jim, I can’t do this.” Carla cried. “You talk to me like shit, you treat me like shit, I’d rather for Steve to kill me than to continue to take the heap of shit that you unload on me every hour.”
“Don’t act like you’re innocent here, you condescending fucking bitch!”
“Easy Jimmy, easy,” said the carhop. “She’s a lady.”
“Shi-iiid, you ain’t seen this bitch in action.”
“She no bitch,” the carhop said, displaying his lack of command of the English language. “Look at her! She pretty, so fragile, so precious.” Carla cracked a genuine smile. “Treat her like a lady, man!”
Jim could only respond with a look of disgust as the carhop attempted to soothe Carla. He had his plan in place, now he needed Carla to be on the same page as him. Just as he was going to address her, the carhop had convinced her to slip out the car so he could drive off.
“Carla, I’m sorry.”
“Boy please!”
“Really, I am… look, in order for us to stay alive I need you to be on the same page with me.”
“Why are we leaving the car here?”
“So Steve won’t be able to trail us,” Jim answered. “Look, we’re going to get on the next Pace bus back into the city. Frank will pick us up once we’re in the city. C’mon, we’ll go more in-depth once we’re on the bus.”
“Hey!” Jim motioned to the carhop with a $20 bill. “Take care of my lady.”
“Gracias senõr!” The carhop grinned. “Senõr!”
“Yes?”
“Take care of your senõrita!”
Jim looked toward Carla with sincerity as she looked back at him with a curious stare as if she were on a search for something in Jim’s eyes. She wondered how he was going to respond to the carhop. Jim wasn’t sure how to respond, or whether he should respond.
“See ya around!” Jim replied
Jim and Carla turned around and boarded the #766 Pace bus and sat near the back exit.
“Carla, you will mark all the boxes for the men to pick up. Once all the boxes are marked, we will leave in a U-Haul truck and they’ll drop us off right where my car is.”
“How do you know that Steve and Jessica won’t be here waiting for us?”
“Because no one knows that I store my shit here, except for you. We need to keep it that way. Got it?”
“Yes Jim, I got it.”
“Good.”
“Wait, if Steve is your right hand man, how come he doesn’t know about your stash?”
“Carla, I learned very quickly that in this business, you can’t tell people your business; not even my best friend. My people can turn on me at any time and if they know too much about me, then I can never truly disappear.”
“How do you live like this?”
“I try not to think about it.”
Jim and Carla didn’t say another word until they met Frank at the bus depot.
###
“Hurry, get in,” Frank said.
On cue, Jim gently grabbed Carla’s arm and guided her to the jet black Lincoln Continental before opening the door for her. Usually, Frank would do the honors, but Jim didn’t have the patience to wait for Frank to lumber his fat ass around the car. Just as Jim closed the backdoor behind him Carla let out a big scream.
“What the fuck is back here?” Carla said, freaking out. “Something’s squishy and disgusting back here!”
“Oh, that’s where my jelly doughnuts are. I’ve been looking for those,” Frank said unwittingly.
“It looks like they’re no good now thanks to Carla’s donk,” Jim cracked. “We’ll toss them when we get a chance.”
“Oh no, don’t toss ‘em! Pass em to me,” Frank said anxiously.
“But Carla just sat her ass on them. They’re no good,” Jim responded while holding the halfway opened smashed donuts.
Frank quickly snatched the donuts before Jim could say another word. “Jimmy, they’re fine!” He then pressed his face into the smashed box of jelly donuts and licked as much of the seeped jelly from the box as he could before he finally came up for air.
“You guys want a donut?” Frank said with sugar and strawberry jelly still sprinkled on his face along his cheeks, nose, mouth, and chin.
“No thanks, we don’t have much of an appetite with all that’s going on,” Jim said. Carla quietly agreed with Jim.
“Suit yourselves. That just leaves more for me!” Frank dived back into the smashed donuts. Jim’s and Carla’s stomachs both knotted, churned and turned as they listened to Frank’s disgusting food noises as he chomped, grunted, and smacked on the box of donuts.
This has got to be more disgusting than watching a fat man having sex with a chimpanzee! Jim thought.
Carla was so grossed out from Frank’s eating that she had temporarily forgotten that she was sitting in wet, sticky strawberry jelly. They couldn’t determine which was more disgusting: the grunting noises that Frank made as he was chewing, or the sight of this man eating the smashed donuts as if he were a homeless slob.
“Just a few more moments before we pull off,” Frank said as he polished off the last three donuts seemingly all at once.
Watching
Frank eat seemed as if it went on for hours, but driving from the west side to the Carla’s far south side residence seemed like it took only seconds. Before they knew it, fat ass Frank still having not wiped his face announced their arrival. The goons were in place at the front and back exits. Frank handed Jim a piece of paper with a phone number on it, and he quickly recognized it. Jim and Carla thanked Frank as they slowly climbed out the car and walked inside her house.
“Where does Steve keep his guns?”
“Everywhere! You’ll find a gun behind the toilet, one in the pantry behind the cream style corn, and another under the sofa cushion,” Carla said.
“Make sure you grab as many bullets as you can comfortably fit in your purse,” Jim instructed.
“Okay, but may I ask why this is necessary? We got 20 something men over here.”
“You may not see Steve as the brightest crayon in the box, but tactically, he’s the new millennium version of John Rambo. He’s not the one to underestimate.”
“So why do you have all these men out here then?”
“To buy us enough time to get the fuck out of dodge if he drops by to pick up some clothes,” Jim said. “Don’t get scared. Take your time in marking these boxes because you won’t be able to come back for anything later. It’s better to mark too many things than to not mark enough.”
“Okay,” Carla said, appearing visibly shaken.
“Don’t be scared. I’m right here if anything goes down,” Jim assured.
Carla suddenly grabbed Jim and hugged him. Jim embraced her as that moment in time seemed to pause just for them.
Carla doesn’t deserve this. She’s played by the rules all of her life. She deserves better than being on the run with me, Jim thought.
Reluctantly, the two parted, and Carla made her way to her small office where she turned on her computer and began printing sheets that instructed the men to pack carefully. After grabbing her printouts, she began labeling items that she wanted to pack until she realized that most of the items in the house were hers. Most of Steve’s belongings were in his separate bedroom, so she labeled everything outside of his “man den.” Meanwhile Jim had grabbed the gun under the sofa cushion and another gun behind the toilet when he accidentally bumped into the soap dish, causing it to fall to the floor.
Carla let out a scream when she heard the noise.
“Jim, what’s was that?” she yelled.
Jim pulled out his newfound glock and proceeded toward the room that he thought Carla’s scream came from. He carefully crept toward the bedroom and Carla continued to freak out.
“Jim, where are you?”
“I’m right here, Carly,” Jim assured as he hugged her. “Don’t be scared, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Carla held onto Jim in the same fashion as a three-year-old would hold on to a teddy bear or security blanket. Despite the great danger they both faced, Carla felt safe in Jim’s arms as she buried the left side of her face in his chest. She found Jim’s assurance comforting. It also helped that Jim’s 6’2” height towered over her 5’7 frame as opposed to her husband’s 5’9 stature. She couldn’t remember the last time she had this secure feeling with a man.
“Are you going to be able to continue labeling, Carly?” Jim softly asked.
“Yeah, as long as you’re around I can.”
“I’m not going anywhere. The farthest I’ll be is at the windows.”
“Okay. I’m sorry for screaming.”
“We’ll work on that,” Jim responded as he dialed Frank’s phone number.
“You’re ready that fast?” Frank answered.
“You got the plan committed to memory, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, send the U-Haul.”
“It’s on the way.”
Jim hung up, thinking that just maybe he and Carla would be able to leave without either of them getting hurt.
“You did good,” Steven said coldly. “You deserve to live.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Frank said, agitation lacing his words.
“Good point.”
Steve pulled the .38 away from Frank’s temple and knocked him unconscious with the butt of the gun. After going to the trunk of his car to pull out a duffle bag, Steve poured two dozen 2 for $1.00 Hostess honey buns on Frank’s unconscious body.
“No hard feelings…you fat fuck,” Steve mumbled.
Chapter 5
“Carla, show the men the non-essential shit that we can put on the U-Haul.”
“Why the non-essential?”
“I’ll tell you later. Just trust me on this, okay?” Jim said.
“Yes sir, Mr. Jim.”
“One more thing…we both must help the guys load up your things.”
“No problem.”
Steve sat on the next block with binoculars watching Jim, Carla and the two movers as they loaded the U-Haul truck. He sat undetected by Frank’s hired goons because he borrowed a police car from the station as part of an agreement established by Benjamin Franklin and his accompanying clones stuffed in a white envelope. He even wore a police uniform and had a radio, baton, and appropriate holsters. He looked like an actual police officer which wasn’t inconceivable since he spent five years in the Marines as a military police officer which included two tours in Iraq. After his service, he became a police officer for the Chicago Police Department, but was relieved of his duties when he crippled a convicted child molester who was given a light 30-day jail sentence at the county jail and 1 year probation. Steve was the arresting officer on the scene when he caught the child molester penetrating a 9-year-old boy.
Naturally, Steve was infuriated by the light jail sentence given to the criminal due to his being the mayor’s nephew. Steve beat the child molester so brutally that he would never be able to walk for the rest of his life. Doctors had to perform three surgeries to spare his life. Meanwhile, Steve was given a 10-year prison sentence at a minimum security facility for his crime. Jim hired a politically-connected criminal attorney who was able to get Steve released from prison on bail pending an appeal.
Now Steve was in the process of executing his plan to cut off the hand that had fed him for so many years. He had them where he wanted them as he continued to observe Jim and Carla through his binoculars. Jim was coordinating the move, and Carla was hauling ass and loading the truck with two other men.
Jim thinks he’s so smart, Steve thought. His luck has run out today. He should have planned for me to come back to my house. Dumb fucker underestimated me.
“Damn, it only took us an hour to fill this truck given all the stuff you have” Jim observed. “I must’ve been paying Steve way too much if you got all this non-essential shit.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so careless with your payroll,” Carla cracked.
“Now that was a low-blow, young lady,” Jim said.
Carla could only laugh as she finally one-upped him with her condescending remark. Jim smiled nonetheless; it was almost as if they had forgotten the danger they faced and the sense of urgency of the situation.
“Okay, it’s time for us to haul ass. Let’s roll!” Jim shouted.
“I got shotgun!” Carla announced.
“Carla, you can have whatever you want,” Jim said playfully.
“I’ll have to hold you to that,” Carla said as she smiled.
Jim and Carla climbed into the U-Haul truck with Jim occupying the middle seat. The driver started the ignition and headed west on 95th Street. Steve followed them until they got near the Dan Ryan Expressway. He proceeded to flash his blue lights, pulling the three passengers over. The driver, a man in his mid-50s began swearing under his breath. He was worried about the police officer discovering the 8 ball of coke he had in his possession. That was until the officer got out of the squad car. Jim stretched his neck to the left to catch a glimpse of the police officer.
“Man, I can’t afford to go to jail,” the
driver said.
“That should be the least of your worries,” Jim said. “That’s not a cop. That’s Steve disguised as a cop.”
“Steve’s all right by me,” the driver said, relieved.
“Look, I don’t give a fuck how cool you think you are with Steve. He’s trying to kill me, and he’ll kill your sorry ass to get to me and Carla,” Jim warned. “Now you make got damn sure you listen to me right now. We’re going to slip out this truck. When he asks you what direction we’re headed in, tell him the truth. Then when he runs after us, speed off and head to your destination. Don’t look back!”
“Okay, I can handle Steve.”
“Carla, get out this truck as quietly as you can, now.”
Jim turned the volume up on the radio just as Steve walked past the taillights on the trailer. Carla eased out and took off running. After a few moments, Jim followed after her as they ran down Wabash and cut through the gangway of the first house they saw. Moments after Jim and Carla eased out of the U-Haul vehicle, the driver jumped once he heard three quick knocks on his door.
“Step out the car!” Steve commanded.
“Yes sir.”
The driver slowly stepped out the vehicle and raised his hands over his head. The driver was visibly shaken, but had no other choice than to do what he was told.
“Where are the passengers that were with you?” Steve barked.
“They ran down Wabash, then went down the gangway.”
“If you’re lying to me, you’re a dead man!”
“I’m telling you, they went down Wabash.”
Steve took off running down Wabash, and as soon as the driver saw him turn the corner, he hopped back in the U-Haul and took off toward his destination.
Jim and Carla made a left down the alley and shot toward 95th, but stopped short of the cross-section of another alley leading from Wabash Street. After seeing Steve run down Wabash Street toward the gangway that they just ran through, Jim and Carla took off running south until they got to 95th Street. As soon as they made it to 95th, three bullets zapped by Carla, one grazing her Coach purse. Jim pulled out his gun and fired two warning shots, both missing, but causing Steve to take temporary cover.
“Carla, run toward the Red Line! I’ll hold off Steve.”
Steve fired three shots.
“Jim…”
Jim returned the gunfire, narrowly missing his former best friend.