“Tommy … you can’t beat up a car.”
“Fuck you, Jack. I’ll beat up whatever the fuck I want.”
That attitude is going to get you killed. That’s what I wanted to say. Instead I kept my big mouth shut and cranked the wheel. The car slid smoothly into traffic.
The car slipped through quiet residential streets, past tiny 1940s bungalows. Tommy pointed. “Turn left here. Left! Yeah, that’s it. Now up ahead take another left.”
I turned the wheel. Tommy peered through the window. “My dad bought a little house in this neighbourhood just after the war. When he moved out, he rented the place. Never could bring himself to sell …” Tommy trailed off. Ahead of us was a construction site, filling the windshield.
“Is that the place?”
“FUCK ME!”
Before I could stop him, Tommy was out of the car and running toward the construction site.
“WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?”
A burly man with a wraparound moustache and a hard hat stepped in front of Tommy. “Sir … you can’t be here.”
“Can’t be here? Can’t be here? This was my father’s house! What the fuck did you do?” Tommy ducked and dodged around the construction worker, ran into the wooden frame and fell to his knees on the freshly-hardened concrete. “No, no, no!”
The construction worker had one hand on his cellphone. I took a step forward, a dopey smile plastered across my face. “Sorry about this, sir. My name is Steve and that’s Earl. I’m Earl’s social worker. He … well, a few years ago his childhood home burned down. He’s had a problem with construction sites ever since.”
The construction worker was none too impressed. “He can’t be here, and neither can you. It’s not safe.”
“Understood. Sorry again. I’ll get him out of here. Sorry.”
Tommy was scratching his nails across the concrete. I hauled him up by the scruff of his neck like a momma cat. “We’ve got to go.”
“It’s under there, Jack! I swear to God!”
“Forget it. It’s gone.”
I led Tommy back to the car. I gave the construction worker another dopey smile and a wave before I slammed the door and fired up the engine. Beside me Tommy straightened up and smiled. “All right. So that didn’t work out. Don’t you worry, Jack. There’s plenty of money out there.”
“Right.” Somewhere out there was an Early Bird hopping and whistling down the sidewalk, a jaunty top hat perched upon his head, a bag of Tommy’s money thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Did the Early Bird get it all?
“No, seriously. I’m telling you, Jack. My dad had cash stashed all over this city. What I said to Lou about retiring … I was serious. I’ve seen the light, Jack. Help me get out of here and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Sure, Tommy.”
Did I believe him? I wanted to believe, but the man was making it difficult. Did Tommy’s dad stash cash? Of that I had no doubt. Was any of that money left? Possibly. More likely it had all been hoovered up by Vito and the rest of the jackals.
Still, Tommy’s dad had connections. Say the money was gone. Maybe, just maybe, Tommy could get one of his dad’s old friends to loan him some Escape Cash. And then there was the matter of that canvas bag Tommy took from the club. There was money in there, huge wads of it, tied up in rubber bands. How much? Enough for a down payment on my place in the country. Rocking chair on the porch. Drinking lemonade and watching the world go by. Red, red robins going bob bob bobbin’ along.
What would The Chief have done? I’ll tell you what The Chief would have done. He’d have said, “Enough is enough.” He’d turn to Tommy and demand his cash up front. If Tommy said no, he’d walk. That’s it. Just turn his back and walk away. In fact, that’s exactly what The Chief did.
Yeah, and where was he now? Dead, that’s where. Cut down by Joey Economy, a.k.a. Joey Machine. Right? No one ever found The Chief’s body. Maybe he faked the whole thing. Maybe he was sitting on a beach far, far away. It was crazy to think so, but these were crazy times. Deep down, though, I had a feeling The Chief was dead.
What would Grover do? There was no telling. Grover was unpredictable. The Random X Factor. He might work for Tommy just for the fun of it. Or he might shoot Tommy in the back of his head, take his money, and give it all to a homeless man. There was no way to know for sure.
Tommy settled back in the leather seat as traffic rushed past. “Well, let’s head back to the house. What do you think Eddie’s making for lunch?”
“He’s not your personal chef, you know.”
“Hey … I know that. Don’t you think I’m grateful? I’m crazy grateful. I’ve got gratitude busting out all over. I owe you … I know that.”
“You owe Eddie, too.” Even as I said it my stomach sank a little. Five percent, ten percent, fifty percent — if there’s no cake, it doesn’t matter how you slice it.
“Hey, I’m good for it.” Tommy grinned crookedly. “That was something else back at the club. Did you see those fuckers run after I threw that Molotov? Whooo-EE!”
I shook my head slightly and ground my teeth. My hands tightened around the steering wheel. What a fucking liar. I threw the Molotov, not him. Tommy had learned nothing. He was still lost in fantasy, playing cops and robbers.
Back at the house Eddie didn’t look too pleased to see us. “Any luck?”
Tommy shook his head. “Nah. The entire house was gone. Someone tore it down. Don’t worry … there’s more out there. Do I smell spare ribs?”
Eddie looked over at me and I gave him a slight shrug. Eddie shuffled past me and muttered, “I can’t stay closed down much longer, Jack. We’re bleeding money.”
At the stove Eddie served up BBQ pork spare ribs, white rice, and broccoli with black bean sauce. Tommy dove into the food like a man who’s just been rescued from the desert. Eddie scowled and looked away.
I went up to the stove and served myself. I ate slower than Tommy, scraping every last scrap of meat from the bones. My fingers were sticky with sauce. I closed my eyes, and for a split-second, all was right in the world.
Tommy pushed away his plate, patted his belly, and groaned. “Goddamn, that was good. Eddie, you’re some kind of genius.”
I stood up and opened the refrigerator. “Anyone want a beer?”
Tommy shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not me. Got to stay focused. Well, maybe one beer.”
Three beers later Tommy had a big smile on his face. Now was the time.
“Tommy … this house, this food, these beers … they’re not free.”
Tommy looked shocked. Or was that mock shock? “Jack! What are you saying? You know I’m good for it! I’m the man with the golden plan! There’s cash stashed —”
“All over the city, yeah, I know. So here’s what we’re going to do. You pay Eddie and me now. Then you can replenish your supply from one of your dad’s hidey-holes. Okay?”
“Well, I … see, the thing is … I don’t have that much on me. We left the club so fast. I didn’t have enough time to grab that much cash.”
“How much did you grab, Tommy?”
Tommy opened his mouth but Eddie answered for him. “Fifty-one thousand, four hundred and eighty-three dollars.”
A black cloud passed over Tommy’s face. “You counted my money? You counted my fucking money?”
Eddie stood up and loomed over Tommy. “That’s right.” Eddie turned and shouted something in Cantonese. Willie The Driver ambled forward, opened a drawer and pulled out Tommy’s money bag.
Tommy sat there, incredulous. “What the fuck? You fucking STOLE MY MONEY?”
I shook my head. “No one stole anything, Tommy.”
Eddie nodded. “It’s all there. You want to count it? Go ahead and count.”
Tommy’s chair scraped the linoleum as he jerked to his feet. “This is bullshit. BULLSHIT! I see your little shakedown scheme now, Jack. How could I have been so blind?”
“Shakedown?” You little prick. I should’ve left you t
o die at the night club. “No one’s shaking you down, Tommy. We’re working for you. But we don’t work for free.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know how it is. You’re businessmen, right? Just like my father. Fucking businessmen.” Tommy spat words like a cobra spitting venom.
Eddie pointed to Tommy. “Put the money on the table. My price is one hundred thousand. I’ll need a twenty percent retainer.”
“One hun! That’s outrageous. That’s highway robbery.”
Tommy’s twitching face was reflected in the cool gaze of Eddie’s sunglasses. “You don’t have to pay. You could just walk out that door. I won’t stop you. Jack, will you stop him?”
“Eddie’s right, Tommy. We won’t stop you.”
“A hundred thousand. A hundred thousand dollars.”
“For Eddie. Plus the two hundred thousand for me.”
Tommy groaned like he was just punched in the gut. “You’re killing me. You’re killing me, Jack.”
“No. What we’re doing is keeping you alive. If you want to walk, walk. Maybe your buddy Lou would take you in.”
“That fat slug would slit my throat while I slept.”
“Then I suggest you stay here. Good food, cable T.V., no throat slitting. How much is that worth to you?”
Tommy said nothing.
“Is your life worth three hundred thousand dollars?”
“You’re a fucker, Jack. You know that? You guys are fucking me all the way to the bank.”
Eddie pointed to the bag. “Put the money on the table.”
Grumbling, Tommy did as he was told, stacking the cash in neat bundles. Eddie got twenty thousand. I got another twenty thousand. Tommy folded the last wad of cash into his front pocket.
“There! You happy now? Thanks to you clowns I’m down to my last eleven thou.”
“Don’t forget the four eighty-three.”
“Fuck you.”
CHAPTER 47
Walking around with twenty thousand bucks in your pocket could put a smile on your face, but it could also make you paranoid as fuck. I passed my stack across the kitchen table to Eddie.
“Hang onto this for me, will you?”
Eddie nodded. I didn’t even see his hands move, but when I blinked the money was gone.
Twenty grand. Plus what was left from the money Eddie kept for me while I was in jail. That’s enough for now, but I sure as shit can’t retire on it.
Tommy had stormed off down the hallway and slammed the bedroom door. The only thing missing from his teenage-style sulk scene was heavy metal music blasting through the walls.
Eddie cocked his head. “Should I bring him back?”
“Nah. Leave him be. He feels ripped off now but after he’s thought about it he’ll realize it’s a bargain.”
Eddie grinned. “You think we’ll ever see the rest of it?”
“Hard to say. Tommy’s a born bullshitter.”
“I don’t like him, Jack.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Eddie scraped back his chair. “You know, when I was just starting out in the business I met a guy like Tommy. He was full of sound and fury, all bluster and bullshit. I didn’t want to work with him but he was connected, so there you go. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay you next week. Don’t worry about it.’ Then the next week would roll around and my wallet stayed empty. I expressed my concerns to my boss one day and he said not to worry, I’d get my money.”
“Is this story going anywhere?”
“Point is, I got my money. But no one will ever see that guy again.” Eddie’s chair creaked. “What’s the next move, Jack? We can’t just sit here and wait for Grover or Little Vito to come gunning for us.”
If I was a real smart guy I’d have a plan. Not just any plan, but a plan so intricate and fiendish it would make angels fall to their knees and weep. I’d arrange it so Little Vito would drive to an abandoned warehouse thinking Tommy and I were inside. Grover would be in the warehouse waiting for me. Then in a hail of bullets and confusion Little Vito and Grover would kill each other. Tommy would crack open one of his dad’s treasure chests and pull out wads of loot and Eddie would clap me on the back and say, “Good job.” Then Suzanne and I would ride off into the sunset on the back of a fucking unicorn.
“It’s under control,” I told Eddie. It was a small lie, teeny tiny and oh so lily white. I looked at Eddie smiling, how relieved he was. Poor bastard was losing tens of thousands a day as dust gathered on his gaming tables. Grover or no Grover, Little Vito or no Little Vito, Eddie was going to have to reopen his casino soon. He wasn’t sitting in that dingy house for Tommy; he was doing it for me. Oh, I knew it. That creaking sound? That was my back buckling beneath all the responsibility. Save Tommy. Stop Grover. Stop Vito. Get Eddie back in business. Win back Suzanne’s heart. “On second thought, let me hold that twenty grand after all.”
Eddie squinted at me over his sunglasses. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you, Jack?”
“Who, me? Nah. I’m going to invest it wisely. Do they still sell Beanie Babies?”
Eddie grinned wryly and handed over my money.
I tilted my head toward Tommy’s bedroom. “Keep an eye on our Problem Child. I might not be back tonight.”
“You need any help? I could send Willie …”
“Tell Willie to go home and play with his kids or his model trains or whatever the fuck Willie does on his days off. Tonight I’m flying solo.”
“Be careful, Jack.”
I grinned. “Always.”
Birds were singing as I strolled down the street. Marking territory, looking for mates. I hear ya, birds.
On the subway a bored-looking young woman was cutting her fingernails. The subway doors pinged open and she got up, leaving a pile of fingernail clippings on the seat next to her. I felt like grabbing her shoulders and slapping her, hard. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you think someone wants to sit down in a pile of your scrapings?” But no, she wasn’t thinking about other people AT ALL. Selfish and stupid. Totally oblivious. As soon as she got off the subway, to her the subway no longer existed.
I went to school with people like her. Gum-smacking idiots. I overheard my ninth grade teacher, Mr. Mackintosh (what a putz that guy was — creases in his brand-new jeans, a blue pen stain on his shirtfront, and a heavy dusting of dandruff on his shoulders), explaining proudly to another teacher (Mrs. Judy, everyone called her — a big woman who wore dresses shaped like horse blankets) that he arranged his seating chart so the dumbest kids would be closest to his precious plants. That way, he explained, the kids would breathe out CO2 for the plants and at least they’d be good for something.
My desk was next to the biggest plant in the classroom.
Man, fuck that prick. Fuckers like that shouldn’t be teaching kids.
Back in Chinatown. Back to the hustle and bustle of the crowds and the drunks and the neon signs glowing against the sky. A drunk in a dirty coat shambled past me and puked in the gutter. I smiled. It was good to be home.
Suzanne’s bar was a block away. My feet tingled as I walked closer. I knew how this should play out. I should have slicked back my hair and put on my best suit and bought a bouquet of flowers and a box of candy. I should compose achingly beautiful love songs on a fucking lute and play them outside her bedroom window. I should get down on one knee and pull out a box containing a diamond big enough to choke a horse.
I didn’t have a diamond, flowers, a lute, or a suit. Luckily for me the liquor store was still open.
Outside Suzanne’s bar I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. All right, boyo. This is it. Once more unto the breach.
Inside I squinted through the murk. It was the usual crowd: stumblebums and drunks and hipsters. A tall man wearing serious glasses stared intently at the jukebox. A table full of girls broke out into shrieks of laughter. An old man with a face like discarded lunch meat lurched by, a piss stain running down his leg. I walked by two fresh-faced university guys who looked like they wer
e about twelve years old. “I love this place,” one of them said to the other. “It’s so Authentic.”
Ah, well. In another year or so the students and hipsters would be gone, roaming the streets searching for their next Authentic Fix.
Where the hell was Suzanne? Chris, the other bartender, was right where he should be: behind the bar pouring out a shot of Jack. Suzanne was nowhere to be seen, so fuck it, might as well flee this scene and … oh wait, there she was, walking back to the bar with a tray full of empty glasses.
She scowled when she saw me. My fucking heart dropped into my boot. Dangerous, Jack. She has her hooks in you.
Yeah, yeah. I know. I should be a lone samurai on a mountaintop, practising my sword moves as the sun comes up. Totally alone. Forever.
Screw that action. I used to think that way, back when I was younger, but I didn’t anymore. It’s all about connection. You think you’re alone? There are billions of people on this rock orbiting the sun. Billions and billions. Like it or not, we’re all connected. We’re All In This Together.
“Suzanne.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m working.”
“This will only take a minute.”
Suzanne glared into my eyes, and she must have seen something there, because her anger drained away and she sighed.
“All right. Just for a minute.”
I followed her into the back office. Stacks of empties lined the walls. A sad scarred desk sat in the corner, piled with papers and one of those giant calculators that old people use when they start to go blind.
“I brought you this.” I handed Suzanne the bottle of red wine.
“Thanks.”
She let me take her hand. “Suzanne, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be dragged into all of this. I’m not going to stand here and bullshit you. I’m not going to pretend everything is hunky-dory, peaches and cream. It’s not. Things are fucked up, but the end is in sight. No, wait … I know, I know, I’ve been saying that for weeks. But it’s true. Tommy paid me off. Look.” Suzanne cocked her eyebrow as I pulled out the thick wad of bills. “Soon Tommy will be on a plane heading south. Beaches and hammocks, bikinis and rum punch. As soon as that plane takes off, you and I are free. We’ll leave all the crap behind us. A fresh start. You and me, together.”
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