Bad Citizen Corporation

by S. W. Lauden

  “Beautiful speech, Mr. Salem. I didn’t know you had such a gift for public speaking.”

  “There’re probably a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  “That might be true. I do know you’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I had an interesting talk with Mr. Barrett. Were you aware that he had a break in over at his office a few days ago?”

  “Barrett might have mentioned it last time I saw him.”

  “You mean at the beach?”

  “Hard to say. I’ve been kind of busy.”

  “His security company notified us that a silent alarm had been tripped, so a couple of my officers responded. When they arrived they saw a shirtless man running from the yard. Apparently he looked an awful lot like your friend Marco.”

  “There’s lots of guys in North Bay who look like Marco.”

  “There was also a second suspect who escaped out the back of the property.” Officer Bob turned so that they were standing side by side facing the reception. “Mr. Barrett came out and did a survey of the office. He was reluctant to allow a thorough investigation of the premises.”

  “Well then, case closed I guess. Listen, I would love to stand here and chat about this fascinating police work, but in case you hadn’t noticed there’s a funeral going on.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Salem. I guess I’ll let you go—for now.”

  Officer Bob took a few slow steps backwards before he started mingling with the other guests. Greg was walking back to where Junior and her family were seated when a strange sound came from inside of the garage. He listened for a second, convinced that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Then he heard it again. It sounded like a cross between a whistle and a hiss. He went over to the side door and took a tentative peek inside. Marco was standing there, leaning against a stack of plywood sheets that went half way up to the ceiling.

  Greg made sure the coast was clear and slipped inside. The room was almost totally dark once he closed the door. Marco lit a cigarette and almost tripped over his own shoes.

  “I just got done talking to Officer Bob about you out there.”

  “I heard him, and he doesn’t have shit on me. Besides, you know I never miss a party.”

  Marco reached up on top of the stack of plywood and produced a half empty bottle of whisky. The smell of it hit Greg like a ton of bricks. Marco tilted the bottle up and took a long drink. Greg kept his eyes on him, his thoughts alternating between disgust and envy. Marco offered the bottle to him through the gloom, but Greg waved him off.

  “You go ahead.”

  “Back on the wagon, bro?” He laughed and took another chug. “Guess you’re gonna have to start all over again at those meetings of yours.”

  “We’ll see. Either way, you need to get out of here.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll leave when I’m ready. I wanted to let you know that I did some checking around. Ricky wasn’t exactly an angel.”

  “What’d you find out?”

  “For starters, half the shit in this garage was stolen from Barrett’s job sites.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason for Barrett to hire somebody to kill him.”

  “No, but there could be another reason in here.” Marco produced the folder they had taken from Barrett’s office. Greg grabbed it out of his hands and tucked it into the back of his pants, under his dress shirt. “And I found a couple of other things out from a few of my friends.”

  Greg flipped the folder open and scanned the first page.

  “I didn’t know if you were actually able to hold onto this or not.”

  “I stashed it between two dryers at the Laundromat near the motel. Pretty rad, right?”

  “That was a couple of days ago. Where have you been since then?”

  “Laying low. The guys I was doing those deliveries for—you know, those dudes from Mexico? They weren’t too thrilled that the whole shipment got snagged from my hotel room.”

  Just then somebody tried to open the side door to the garage from the outside. Greg pressed his heel against the base. He yelled ‘I’ll be right out’ while urging Marco to hide.

  “Greg?”

  It was Eddie.

  “You in there? Ricky’s mom is looking for you. Let me in.”

  “I’m on the phone. I’ll be right out.”

  The old man grumbled, but backed off. The garage was empty when Greg turned around.

  “Marco? Where’d you go?”

  His response was an exaggerated whisper.

  “You fucking told me to hide. So I’m hiding.”

  “What did you find out from your friends?”

  Greg barely finished the question before Eddie started pounding on the door again. It sounded like he was drunk enough to make a scene. Maybe even attract the attention of Officer Bob.

  “Marco. Get out of here before you get arrested. Meet me on the beach first thing tomorrow morning.”

  He waited in the silence for a few moments and then let himself out. The buffet was looking pretty picked over, but people were still eating. A line extended several guests deep from the bar where Eddie had jumped in to help. Ricky’s crew had picked up guitars and were strumming a few chords.

  Junior was sitting at the table with Chris and Ricky’s mom when Greg arrived. She immediately stood up and threw herself into his arms. He pulled her in tight and stroked her hair while she sobbed into the collar of his shirt.

  “What you said today was just so beautiful.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Ricky was so lucky to have a friend like you.”

  “We were all lucky to know him. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Oh, not tonight. I imagine this will just go on until the booze runs out.”

  “Okay, well let me know. I can stay as late as you need me, too.”

  “I’m actually going to need your help over the next couple of days. Somebody has to get all of his things out of that apartment before the first of the month, and you’re the only one I trust. I hope it’s not too much to ask, I just don’t think I could bear to do it myself.”

  Her words faded into sniffling and tears. Greg waited while she tried to overcome the waves of sadness.

  “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”

  “Yes we do. I just want it all behind me.” It was getting harder for Greg to understand her through the tears. “I can’t imagine waiting, just leaving his stuff sitting there to collect dust.”

  Her wailing became inconsolable as Greg pulled her into his chest again. Junior came up from behind and placed a shawl across her shuddering shoulders. She motioned to Chris with her eyes before leading Ricky’s mom off in the direction of the house. Greg slumped down into the seat next to the boy and took a sip of water. He was disappointed that it wasn’t a beer.

  “How’re you holding up?”

  “Okay, I guess.” The boy kept his eyes on the table where he was playing with a small ball of dried candle wax. “He really isn’t coming back, is he?”

  Greg placed a reassuring hand on Chris’s back.

  “Doesn’t seem like it. This is all pretty confusing, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s just, well, Ricky was teaching me how to surf the last few months.”

  “He was? I didn’t know that. I bet he was a pretty awesome teacher.”

  “The best. I just hope my mom keeps taking me surfing.”

  “We’re still on for dawn patrol this Sunday?”

  Chris perked up and they exchanged smiles. Greg stopped short of mussing the boy’s hair, but the urge had definitely struck him.

  “Did you get a chance to eat anything?”

  “A little. I’m still pretty hungry.”

  “I’ll get you a plate before the vulture
s eat it all.”

  He stood up and headed back to the buffet. Officer Bob was standing there eating a spoonful of mac and cheese directly from the chafing dish.

  “I love the little crusty parts that stick to the pan.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  “What were doing in the garage?”

  “Oh, just now? I had to make a phone call.”

  “Anybody I know?”

  “Probably.”

  Junior and Eddie were both back when Greg returned with the food. He set the plate down in front of Chris and went to squat between the adults. He looked at Eddie first and instantly knew the old man was a lost cause.

  “Why don’t we call it a night soon and get some rest? Looks like I have to start clearing Ricky’s apartment out tomorrow.”

  “You think we can drop my dad off on the way? He shouldn’t be driving.”

  Greg stood up, grimacing through the pain in his knees and back. He offered Junior his hand and then gave Eddie a pat on the shoulder. Chris didn’t need any prompting at all.

  Greg would normally just sneak out the back gate, but that was hard to do with four people. At least Ricky’s mom was already safely tucked away in her bedroom. It made him feel better about leaving so early.

  They hugged and kissed their way to the door. Junior did most of the kissing while Eddie hugged Greg tight to keep himself upright. They poured Eddie into the back seat of Junior’s car and Greg got into the driver’s seat. It took all three of them to strip the old man’s clothes off and put him to bed. He was snoring loudly as they locked the door and closed it tight behind them.

  Chris fired up his gaming console the minute they got home. Junior told him he had fifteen minutes to play before bed. He grunted and started obliterating aliens on the TV screen. Greg poured himself a glass of water and took a seat on the couch behind the boy. He noticed an electric guitar leaning in the corner of the living room just as Junior came back in wearing sweats and a loose fitting T-shirt.

  She curled up on the other end of the couch and closed her eyes. Chris finally turned the game off an hour later and shuffled off to bed. Greg gave Junior a peck on the cheek and slipped out the kitchen door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Greg didn’t have a single drop of booze at the reception, but he still felt hung over the next morning. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry and the thought of coffee made his stomach turn. It could have been all the stress from the last few weeks finally catching up with him, or it might have been all that trashy food. He had to get up and meet Marco either way.

  Mrs. McMillan was already working away in the garden when he went outside. She was a little too chipper for his current state of mind.

  “Good morning. Are we still on for breakfast?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good. Have fun in the water.”

  He lifted the paddleboard on top of his head and started toward the beach. There was a steady wind blowing as he crossed the sand and dropped his board in the water. The waves were breaking close to shore and there were small whitecaps dotting the seascape. Marco wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Greg looked for him under a boarded up lifeguard stand, and checked the stalls in the public bathroom. He knew that Marco might be crashed out somewhere, sleeping off his bender. Or maybe the previous night never ended and he was still going strong with some of his friends.

  The possibilities got darker as Greg went down the list. What if Officer Bob had finally caught up with him? Or the Mexican mafia? He scanned the horizon on the off chance that Marco was already out in the water. A few members of the sober paddleboard group were making their way across the rugged surf at a slow clip. Greg’s best option at the moment was to paddle out and ask if they had seen Marco.

  He found seven people bobbing up and down on their boards when he caught up. It took him a minute to realize there was an eighth board a little beyond the rest of the group. Somebody was lying down on their back with their arms over their face. Greg recognized the stringy blonde hair immediately and paddled over to say hello.

  “Marco?”

  The man on the board didn’t move, but Greg heard a muffled response.

  “I can’t move or I’m going to puke again.”

  “Don’t. It’ll attract the sharks.”

  “That might be less painful.”

  Greg heard members of the group starting to talk. He needed to get Marco out of there before he made a scene.

  “Let’s paddle back to shore and grab a cup of coffee.”

  “I’m staying for the meeting.”

  “Seriously?”

  Marco rolled off of his board and submerged himself in the water. He re-emerged seconds later and climbed up onto his board looking a little too much like a wet rat. His emaciated frame was glistening in the morning sunlight as they paddled toward the others. Pete couldn’t contain his surprise as they joined the meeting.

  “Welcome back, you two. Quite a surprise to see you here together.”

  “Nobody was more surprised than me.”

  Greg paddled the last few strokes and then let the board glide to a wobbly stop. Marco was a few yards behind him, huffing and puffing.

  “Holy shit, dude. I am so out of shape.”

  Marco curled up on his board with his paddle and moaned quietly under his breath. It was a little painful for the others to watch because they had all been there at one time or another. Pete tried to lighten the mood.

  “Anybody have anything they want to get off their chest?”

  Nobody expected Marco to start talking.

  “I’m almost forty years old and I don’t have shit to show for it. I couldn’t even go to my friend’s funeral yesterday because the cops are after me…again.” He pronounced it “uh gain” for emphasis. “And I would have been too wasted even if the cops weren’t after me. I’ve got drug dealers breathing down my neck and, and…I don’t know dude. I think I just need to get my shit together. Like for real this time.”

  Nobody said a word during the pregnant pause that followed. It felt as if he was daring them to doubt him.

  “And to top it off I stole this board off the beach this morning.”

  Even Greg had to laugh at this last line. There was no greater sin on the beach than stealing somebody’s board, but Marco’s story was just getting worse by the second.

  “Yuck it up. But you guys aren’t gonna have to fight your way off the sand later on.”

  “Calm down.” An exasperated edge was beginning to undercut Greg’s tone. “We’ll make sure you get home okay.”

  “That’s another thing. They’re closing the motel down. We all got thrown out last night.”

  “You can crash with me until you figure something out.”

  Greg knew it wouldn’t be easy sharing a studio apartment with an addict who was going cold turkey. He also knew that Marco had nowhere else to go.

  “Seriously, bro? That’s awesome.”

  Greg watched a squadron of pelicans gliding effortlessly along the water as Marco finished up. A couple of the others said a few things afterward, but nothing like the complete wipe out that Marco described. The two of them were paddling back to shore together less than an hour later.

  Marco managed to get the stolen board back onto the sand without getting noticed. His T-shirt and tattered jeans were still buried where he’d left them. He dug them up and they made a beeline for the boardwalk.

  Mrs. McMillan was setting out breakfast plates for two at the garden table when Greg and Marco came through the back gate.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize we were expecting company. I’ll get another setting.”

  “It’s okay. He’s just needs to use my computer for a while…”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Your friend should absolutely join us for breakfast. It’s been a while si
nce I’ve had a threesome.”

  Greg pushed Marco inside the apartment and told him to get in the shower.

  “Dude, what did she just say?”

  Once Greg heard the water running he went into his closet and found some old clothes that were too tight. Marco toweled off and eyed the pile suspiciously, but agreed to put them on. They were baggier than Greg thought they would be.

  Breakfast was already set up when they went back outside. There was a basket of homemade muffins in the center of the table along with a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs and plate full of bacon. Mrs. McMillan instructed them to take their seats and immediately started serving her ravenous guests. She nibbled at a muffin and waited patiently while the two men shoveled forkfuls of food into their mouths.

  “Is this a friend of yours from the paddleboard club?”

  “I’m so sorry.” Greg set his fork down and forced down a mouth full of food. “This is Marco. He’s an old friend of mine. From the neighborhood.”

  “It’s Marco Johnson, correct? You look a lot like your father.”

  “That’s what people tell me. I didn’t know him too well. But nice to meet you anyway. This food is fu… Uh, it’s really delicious.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Please, keep eating. I hate leftovers. How was the funeral yesterday, Gregory?”

  “Good as can be expected, I guess. Didn’t stay too late.”

  “I understand Eddie had a little emergency a couple of nights ago.”

  Greg knew that nothing happened in The Bay Cities without old timers like Mrs. McMillan finding out. He still had no idea how she got such accurate information. It made him curious about the things she knew but didn’t mention.

  “It was just stress. They’re doing some tests, but everything seems all right for now. He was the same old Eddie at the funeral yesterday.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that. I’ve known him for more than forty years. Sweet man.”