Young Americans

by Josh Stallings

  “How did she look?”

  “Bad. Her parents—”

  “Bob and Jen.”

  “Is that their names?”

  “Yeah. Clueless, but not bad people. They told Candy they thought I was a lesbian and was trying to corrupt her.”

  “They were half right.”

  “Shut up. Was she . . .”

  “She was . . . she looked bad. I don’t know.” Jacob stared out the window. They hit the 101 and headed home. Seeing Candy’s parents had shifted something in Jacob. Made it more real. Made it hurt more. He’d been running on a romantic notion of what being a member of Sam’s heist crew would be. Somehow it always seemed like Sam lived outside the laws of nature. But that was bullshit, a little brother’s vision of his sister. The truth was . . . the truth was Candy in that room with tubes and wires. The truth was her parents’ anguish.

  • • •

  It was early afternoon when they reached the Creekside Apartments. In the visitors’ parking sat a year-old, black Lincoln Continental. It had a black vinyl roof, opera window in the back and deeply tinted glass. It looked to Sam like a shark waiting to feed. Pulling into the carport, she looked at their apartment. “I don’t like it.”

  “What, what don’t you like?”

  “Any of this. ‘Trust the gut’ Pop used to say. I want you to creep around back and come in the kitchen door.” She passed her brother the .38 and relocked the trunk.

  “What about you? Won’t you need a piece?”

  “I come through that door with an M16 and someone is waiting, it’s likely to escalate to bloodbath before you can say boo. But it goes sideways, I’m counting on you, Crazy Jake.”

  Jacob gripped the snubnose in his pocket and started around the building.

  Sam waited five minutes, giving him time to get in position, then she moved up the walkway. The front curtain moved almost imperceptibly as she reached for the door. The living room was dark with the curtains drawn, but even in the gloom she could see it had been ransacked. Feathers dusted every surface, sofa slit open. In her periphery someone moved. She started to turn toward a huge shadow. Something roughly the size and hardness of a two-by-four slammed into her right cheek. Pain exploded down her nerves. Her knees went out and she was falling, then she was on the floor. Blood was coming off her cheek, running into her mouth. A boot slipped under her belly, lifted her up, flipped her onto her back. Jo Jo towered over her. His huge fist was wrapped by a set of brass knuckledusters. Out of his leather jumpsuit, dressed in a dark jogging suit, he looked a lot less silly and a lot more menacing. He roughly searched her for weapons then stood back up.

  “She’s clean, boss.”

  “She’s anything but clean.” Maurizio Binasco was sitting in the easy chair, drinking from a coffee mug. “Your mother’s coffee sucks.”

  “You suck—”

  A boot nailed Sam in the side. She coughed, trying to pull air in.

  “Espresso. I had a machine imported from Italy. It is the cocaine of coffee. This swill . . .” He poured the remains of the cup onto the floor. “Wait, I remember you. You said you were Bruce’s sister. Some story about your mom being a whore.”

  “I lied.”

  “Clearly. Is my head bartender in on this? Don’t answer that, it’s a stupid question. Obviously he is. You were casing my joint. Where is my cash?”

  “Where, where is my mother?”

  Jo Jo the giant cocked his boot back, ready to kick her again.

  “Before he kicks you into the emergency room, maybe I should explain how this works. I ask. You tell. Or Jo Jo kicks the living shit out of you. Capisce?”

  Now would be a good time to come through the door. And as she thought it, Jacob did come through the door. Where is his gun?

  Something from behind propelled Jacob into the room and he stumbled and caught himself before falling onto Sam.

  “Looky, looky what we found snooping around out back.” Sardine limped into the room, a makeshift splint tied to his wrist with a bandanna. Behind him was Cracker, his face a blooming mess of lumps and contusions.

  “He had this.” Sardine held up the .38.

  Maurizio looked from the gun to Jacob. He smiled and licked his upper lip ever so slightly. “You’re the brother, um, Jake, right?”

  “Sam?”

  “I’m OK, Jake. And, yes, he’s my brother.”

  “Nice to have family time.” Maurizio nodded to Jo Jo. The giant slugged Jacob in the gut, doubling him over. Jo Jo was about to nail Jacob in the mouth when the boy plopped down onto the floor. He looked up at Jo Jo, then squeezed his eyes shut. Jo Jo felt any rush of battle leave him. He didn’t want to hit this kid. He looked to his boss, who shrugged. Jo Jo relaxed, relieved.

  “For the moment, and it may be a brief one, I have decided not to crush your brother’s face.”

  “He doesn’t have anything to do with any of this.”

  “Oh, but he will pay the price if you don’t get me my money.”

  “I don’t have it.” Sam flicked a look at Sardine. “I don’t know what bullshit these duplicitous hillbillies been feeding you—”

  Sardine raised his voice, trying to drown her out. “You lying bitch. She took—”

  “What, you inbred sister-fucker? I took—”

  “Bitch shut your—”

  “Stop!” She put her palm up at Sardine, then looked at Maurizio. “They have your cash.” She quickly crossed her heart, trying for what she hoped was a cute sexy smile.

  “Liar! Black liar!” Sardine was red faced and spitting when he spoke. “She’s a fat liar, Mr. Binasco. See what she did to my cousin Cracker? Knocked his teeth out and near took his face off with a blowtorch.”

  “OK, I did do that, but look at them; they are an invitation to be beaten.”

  “Enough.” Maurizio looked from Sam to Sardine then back to Sam. “Jo Jo?”

  “Yes boss?”

  “Next one speaks, take a finger.”

  Jo Jo nodded. Sam started to say something but stopped herself.

  “Sam? Is that short for Samantha?” She nodded slowly. “OK, here is how this plays out—we searched their rolling troiaio. No cash.” Sam’s lips went white from clamping them closed. “I know, you’ll say they hid it. But, and this matters, if they had it, why hang around?”

  Sam raised a finger, but Maurizio shook his head. “We’ll have time to talk in a moment.” He smiled at Sardine. “And you, inimicus inimici mei amicus meus est.”

  “Huh? That French?”

  “Latin. The enemy of my enemy . . .”

  “Ain’t your enemy?” Cracker spoke up.

  “Close enough,” Maurizio said, standing up. “Just a couple of innocent weed dealers?”

  “Yep, sir. Like I told you, this bitch here and her crew was ripping us off.”

  “Bullshit,” Sam said. “They—”

  Maurizio nodded and Jo Jo grabbed her pinky and waited for his boss to give the order. Maurizio thought about it. After a long moment he shook his head. “Ribs.”

  Jo Jo kicked Sam in the side, driving the air from her lungs in a painful grunt. Jacob trembled with impotent anger. He wanted to attack the giant, but he also wanted not to be beaten to death, so he stayed still. Sam slowly sucked air in. She was able to inhale without screaming so either the big man pulled the blow or, for once, being big boned saved her ass.

  “Careful, she is a wily wench. You seen the way they had us trussed up. You hadn’t come along, she and hers would have killed us for sure.”

  “Where did you say you gentlemen were from?” Maurizio asked Sardine.

  “Mountains above Arcata.”

  “Where is Arcata?”

  “Humboldt County.” Maurizio looked confused, so Sardine took another stab. “Way up north near the Oregon border. You know, logging country?”

  “No, I don’t. But I trust you know your way back home.”

  “Sure do.”

  “Then shoo.” Maurizio motioned with his hand, sweepi
ng them out of the room. As they walked out, Sardine gave Sam an evil smile. Cracker couldn’t look at her at all. And then the door was closed and they were gone.

  Maurizio stood over Sam, smiling. “I could have Jo Jo play kick the human can all day long. Much fun as that might be, it will also get messy.”

  “I swear, I do not have your money.”

  “That is a real shame. Grab the kid.” Jo Jo did as told. Gripping Jacob’s biceps he lifted him onto his feet. He vised down on Jacob’s arms making movement impossible. “This is how it will play out: I get my cash, all my cash, in twenty-four hours or I send your pretty little brother home a chunk at a time.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Too bad. After him I come back for your mother, then anyone dumb enough to have ever known you.”

  Jo Jo stiff-armed Jacob out of the apartment.

  “Twenty-four,” Maurizio said and walked out into the afternoon sun.

  CHAPTER 23

  * * *

  “The money’s the key to whatever this is.” —All The President’s Men

  Sam fought to stand. Stumbling out the door she saw the Lincoln Continental sharking its way out onto the street. She would never make the Firebird in time. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. Fumbling with the keys she stabbed at the lock several times before opening it. She fell into the driver’s seat, cranked the key over and drove after them. She blasted down Rengstorff but the Lincoln was nowhere. They were long gone. She drove up the 101 for several miles until it became clear her brother was gone. Pulling off at University Avenue she parked. She shook, tears rolling down her cheeks. She got angry seeing herself crying in the rearview mirror. She slammed her fist on the dash. She screamed. She stuffed it all back inside and drove home.

  • • •

  Jacob was surrounded by dark. When Jo Jo placed him in the trunk he had whispered to keep still or Maurizio would make Jo Jo hurt him. Jacob could see the giant didn’t want to do that. He also knew he would hurt Jacob if he was ordered to. The highway thrummed under the tires as they floated along on soft luxury cruiser shocks. Sam will find me. She will.

  • • •

  Sam walked back into the apartment. She sat down on the sofa, ignoring the down she kicked up. The feathers danced in the shaft of light coming in through the open door.

  Valentina filled the doorway. “Where did the goombah squad go?”

  “They took Jake.”

  “No. Bastards. Where did they take him?”

  “I don’t know, Val. Said they’ll kill him if they don’t get their money.”

  “Then we better get their cash, and fast.” Valentina said she had seen Maurizio coming, but she didn’t know how many boys he had with him so she grabbed Esther and Terry and lit out the back door. She stashed them at the Glass Slipper Motel on El Camino.

  “I’m all out of ideas, Val.”

  “Fuck that, princess. Climb out of that hole, we ain’t got time for it. You gots to move that pretty fanny and figure out how to get Jake back and us clear of this mess.”

  “I screwed it all up.”

  “I don’t care. Don’t. I need you fully functioning, so clean up your thinking and get it together.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  “Val, Breeze didn’t tip them to us. Maurizio hadn’t heard of Humboldt, but he knew this address. Knew my name, Jake’s. How?”

  “We screwed this up somewhere. Where?”

  Something was gnawing at Sam’s mind. Something she didn’t want to face. But once it hit the surface, it had to be said. “Jinks knows where we live.”

  “He sure does, baby.”

  “He wouldn’t sell me out.”

  “You willing to bet Jake’s ass on that?”

  “Let’s jet.”

  • • •

  They took the Ford Galaxie and headed to the city. Not knowing if Sardine and Cracker would return, they decided it was best for Esther and Terry to stay at the motel. Sam promised to call that night.

  “You didn’t tell her where Jacob was,” Valentine said, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

  “No need to worry her.”

  “You say so.” Valentine felt the lie, but let it drop. Truth was, Sam didn’t want to deal with her mother finding out she’d lost Jacob.

  • • •

  They parked off Grant Avenue. They wanted to be able to keep an eye on the Golden Pot. When Jinks finally arrived he was walking slowly up the street, limping. Sam was out and moving and reached him quickly. Grabbing his shoulder, she was about to punch him when he spun around. “Jinks, you backstabbing—”

  When he turned she saw his ruined face. One eye was swollen shut, his upper lip purple and torn. He spoke through broken teeth. “Sorry.”

  “Who?”

  He looked at her and then down at the pavement.

  “Maurizio?”

  He nodded slightly. “I . . . he knows about my son. Kimmy. So sorry.”

  Sam’s face softened.

  Valentina walked up behind them. “Get in the car, Jinks.”

  “Val, I couldn’t . . . They . . .”

  “Fuck them. It’s me you have to worry about. Here or at my crib? Here it gets ugly fast.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes what, Jinks? Spit it out.”

  For an answer he climbed into the back seat of the Galaxie.

  No one spoke until they were moving up the steps to Valentina’s flat. “Are you going to kill me?” Jinks asked.

  “All signs point to yes.”

  Sweat was beading on Jinks’s brow. His arrogant stance and rakish bravado were gone.

  “She’s not killing anyone. Tell him, Val.”

  “It’d be a lie. I don’t get some truth, this man will be chum in the bay by sundown. Keep him here.” Valentina left them standing in the entryway.

  “They took Jake. The motherfuckers took Jake.”

  “Sorry.” Jinks wasn’t able to hold her gaze. He looked down at the floor. Valentina came from the bathroom carrying the shower curtain. Dropping it on the kitchen floor, she took a chair and set it on the vinyl. “Bring him.”

  Sam nodded her head and Jinks moved into the kitchen. Sitting, he closed his good eye. Valentina slammed a butcher knife into her cutting board. Jinks jumped at the sound, his eye popping open. Sam started to speak, but one look at Valentina’s face shut her down. Valentina pulled the blade from the wood and moved on Jinks. “Scared?”

  “What?”

  “Are you scared?”

  “Yes. Please, I’ll tell you—”

  “Be clear. Comes to it, I don’t have any qualms about slicing you up. Clear?”

  Jinks looked at her, steadying the building tremor best he could.

  Valentina flicked his swollen eye with her finger. He let out a high squeak. Sam had to turn away.

  “We clear, Jinks?”

  “Yes. I’ll tell you what you want.”

  “Yes, you will.” From a drawer she took an extension cord and looped it around Jinks’s arms, tying him to the chair back. “Where are they holding Jake?”

  “Don’t know, swear.”

  “Fair enough. Easy one then, how did they find us?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Valentina slapped him across the face, opening a scab on his upper lip. “How, not why.”

  “Fuck. I don’t . . .” Blood was running into his mouth, reddening his broken incisors. “My uncle, he’s a tong soldier. Bought the black powder for the Pinto from him. Sold me out. Swear.”

  “So you gave them us.”

  “Had to.”

  “Or they would hurt your wife and baby. I got that. Where?”

  “What?” Jinks braced for a blow. Valentina raised the butcher knife. “Don’t, Val, just tell me what you want me to say.”

  “Where did they take you?”

  “The club, Taxi Dancer.”

  “OK.” Valentina buried the knife once again in the cutting block. “Don’t go
anywhere.”

  • • •

  On the front stoop, Valentina plucked the Marlboro pack from Sam’s front pocket.

  “You don’t smoke.”

  “I also don’t torture men in my kitchen.” Putting the cigarette between her ruby red lips, she waited for Sam to strike her Bic. Taking in a deep lungful of smoke she let it dribble out. “I was on the other side of the world last time I had a cigarette. Still tastes like shit.” She pulled another deep drag.

  “What do we do with Jinks?” Sam asked.

  “You buy his story?”

  “Seems scared enough. Why would he lie?”

  “Whole deal sounds wrong. Uncle tells Maurizio? How did the uncle know what he used the explosives for? Uncle sells out nephew, why? What are the odds some street tong knows Maurizio in the first place? No, not buying. If that’s bullshit what else is?”

  “You think he knows where they took Jake?” Sam’s face went stone.

  “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

  Sam’s anger bloomed. She marched into the flat. Her first punch landed on Jinks’s jaw with enough force to topple him and the chair. She kicked him in the guts and air flew out his mouth in a fine spray of pink mist. “Enough going easy, asshole. Truth, or I take you apart one joint at a time.”

  “Sam, it’s me.” It hurt when he spoke.

  “Hell yes it’s you, you scheming son of a bitch.” Sam kicked him again. “How much did they pay you to sell us out?”

  “They didn’t . . .” Looking into Sam’s hard face he rethought what he was about to say. “Samantha—”

  “Jinks? We’re almost out of time here. I don’t think you’ll survive much more.” She sank the steel toe of her Red Wing Engineer boot deep in his gut. He fought for air, panicked. Gasping, he struggled to form words. “Ribs go next pal,” Sam said. “Probably no coming back from that.”

  Valentina leaned against the wall, smoking a fresh cigarette, watching Sam impassively.

  “Nnnnno. Sam. Had to,” Jinks said, every word costing him precious air. “I owe them.”

  “You gambling again? Stupid question, of course you are.” She shook her head. For a man who prided himself on control, Jinks had always been weak when it came to cards. His ego told him he was a better player than he was. Sam could see now why he had been so anxious to sign on for the heist. If he had planned to sell them out from the jump or it had come to him later didn’t matter. He had, and now his only value to Sam was if he could lead them to where Jacob was being held.