At Their Own Game

by Frank Zafiro

  I whipped into the Safeway parking lot at 7:17 , and found an open slot in the center of the parking area. Then I turned off the ignition, and waited.

  He didn’t keep me waiting long. Less than two minutes later, a black Ford with flames painted on the hood pulled up behind me. Randall was driving. Ozzy slid out of the passenger seat and waved me over.

  Reluctantly, I got out of the car and walked toward him.

  “Get in,” Ozzy said.

  “Where we going?”

  “Fucking Disneyland. Get in.”

  I hesitated, then climbed up into the truck. The odor of Armor-All permeated the cab. Randall gave me a short nod as I sat down.

  Ozzy got in after me and slammed the door. Without being told, Randall gunned the engine and pulled away.

  “Where are we going?” I repeated deliberately.

  “First off, the fuck you care?” Ozzy shook his head. “Second off, you’re late.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “The whole world is fucking sorry,” Ozzy said. “Why don’t you try to be original?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Randall jetted across the street and through a McDonald’s parking lot. Then he stopped behind the Swinging Doors Tavern.

  When he’d put the car in park and killed the engine, Ozzy turned toward me. His large frame twisted and he leaned back against the door. “So we got problems?”

  “No.”

  His brow furrowed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your guy brought the money, but your other guy didn’t pick up the product, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That sounds like a problem.” He smiled, his lips looking like two stretched sausages. “’Course, it’s more of a problem for you than it is for me. I got paid.”

  “It’s not a problem.”

  “See, I think it is. Not so much because you don’t have your shit, because honestly, I don’t care about your cash flow a whole lot. But I think it’s a problem because it’s unprofessional. It raises questions. Like, why the fuck didn’t your guy show?”

  “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry the logistics got screwed up, but—”

  “See, I heard he didn’t show up because he got picked up by a patrol cop. That true?”

  I hesitated. Then I nodded. Obviously, he knew, so why try to lie about it?

  Ozzy lifted his chin inquisitively. “And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

  “It’s not your problem.”

  He scratched his chin. “Not my problem, huh?” He leaned forward, glaring at me. His voice lowered. “Are you telling me this is none of my business, motherfucker?”

  “No. I’m telling you it’s not your problem.”

  “That sounds like the same thing.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Well, why don’t you break it down for me, professor? Before I snap one of the bones in your hand or something.”

  I took a breath. “It’s your business, all right? It’s your business because it seemed to involve our business together. But it doesn’t. He got popped on a bullshit misdemeanor warrant out of Idaho. Completely unrelated. So that’s why it’s not your problem.”

  Ozzy stared at me for a while, not blinking. Waiting.

  After a while, I shrugged. “What else do you want to know?”

  Quick as flash, his right hand lashed out and caught me on the tip of the nose. The force of the blow wasn’t overpowering, but stinging pain shot through my senses. My eyes immediately teared up. I grabbed for my nose with both hands.

  “Next one’s to the throat,” Ozzy said, still low and mean, but matter of fact. “Now tell me the rest.”

  “What rest?” I asked, my voice thick. Anger churned in my gut.

  “There’s more. I can tell.”

  I blinked. Blood was starting to flow into my hands. I pinched my nostrils shut. I wanted to lean back, but I believed what Ozzy said about my throat, and I didn’t want to make it any easier for him.

  “Spill it,” he growled.

  For a moment, I considered telling him about Falkner. If he knew Matt got arrested, he might know about the conversation with Falkner, too. But I doubted it. And if I told him, I might graduate from someone he did a little business with into a loose end. A risk.

  Plus, he hit me. So fuck him.

  “You got a rag or something?” I asked.

  “You’re stalling,” Ozzy snapped. “And I swear to Christ, if you don’t start talking –”

  “I want my money back,” I said shortly.

  He blinked at me. Slight surprise registered on his face. Then he shook his head slowly. “You…what?”

  “You heard me. I changed my mind about this line of product. I want out.”

  Ozzy leaned back again, regarding me with curiosity, as if I were some new kind of weed that had grown up in his lawn. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No.”

  He glanced up at Randall. “You believe this shit?” Without waiting for a reply, he returned his gaze to me. He shook his head. “This isn’t fucking Walmart. I don’t take returns. You bought the product. It’s yours. You don’t want to buy any more, the fuck I care? You don’t want it at all, I’ll keep it. But I don’t give refunds.”

  “You can always sell it to someone else,” I told him.

  “I can always…” He shook his head at me again. “I oughta go ahead and hit you in the throat, just for trying to tell me my business.” He pointed at the silver tool chest in the bed of the truck. “Your package is in there. Your money ain’t. You want your package, or not?”

  “I want my money.”

  “You can’t have it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I already fucking told you. The deal’s done. I don’t give refunds.”

  “Let’s undo the deal, then.” I stared at him, and tried for that happy medium between not appearing to challenge him enough to piss him off, but still not looking like a pussy to him. The first part was hard because of the anger that was fighting to get out of me. The second part was hard because I was pinching off the bloody nose he gave me.

  “ Un do? Like a do over? What are we, in fifth grade?”

  “No. But the deal was never actually completed, right? The money and the product didn’t both change hands. So it’s not a refund. We’re just calling off the deal.”

  Ozzy sat quietly, staring hard at me. I could sense Randall’s gaze on me, too. The muffled sound of traffic was all I could hear except for Ozzy’s heavy, labored breaths.

  Finally, he raised his hand and motioned to Randall. “Back to his car.”

  Randall started the engine. He drove more carefully on the brief return trip. When he stopped at the rear of my car, Ozzy made no move to exit the cab. Instead, he cocked his head at me and asked, “Who are you connected with, Jake?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I know you do some minor league shit with boosted property, and I know you’ve got these two ass clowns working for you, but who are you connected with? As in, if you had a big problem you couldn’t solve yourself, where would you go?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not—”

  “That’s fucking right,” he snapped. “You’re not with anybody. You are all alone.” He paused to let the words sink in. “Now, you coulda been with me, but for some unknown reason, that doesn’t appeal to you. So you’re still with no one. No. Body.”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t like where this was headed.

  He smiled. “Smart.” He tapped the side of his head with his finger. “You are a smart motherfucker, aren’t you? You probably already got this figu
red out, huh?”

  “No,” I said, but my voice sounded dull and weak.

  “Bullshit, but I’ll spell it out anyway.” He pointed at the tool chest in the truck bed. “That was your shit. Now it’s mine again. You know why?”

  I didn’t reply.

  He didn’t seem to care. “Because I can’t trust someone as pussy as you are to sling my dope. Not on the street, not as a middle-man, not at all. You’ve got no balls, Jake. So your shit is mine again. It’s that simple.”

  “That’s fine. Just give me my money, then.”

  “Just give me my money,” he mimicked in a sing-song tone, his hands at the sides of his head, fingers dancing. He dropped his hands. “It’s not your money anymore. Get it?”

  I released the pinch on my nose tentatively. No blood flowed out. I wiped my palms on the front of my jeans. “Is this how you do business?” I asked. “You just rip people off?”

  Ozzy shook his head. “No rip-off. You forfeit.”

  “I didn’t forfeit anything.”

  “I say you did .”

  “What do you think everyone else will say when they hear you welshed on a deal?” I stared at him, letting some hot anger seep into my voice. “That can’t be good for business.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Ozzy asked.

  “No. I’m pointing out the obvious. Business is built on trust. You violate that trust, and business can’t proceed.”

  “Listen to you,” Ozzy said. “Mister big time businessman.” He leaned forward. “Let’s say you do that, smart guy. Let’s say you go all over town telling people that I welshed. Keep in mind, these are people I’ve done business with, some of them for years. And I’ve never welshed on any of them. I’m good to my word.”

  “Except this time.”

  Ozzy shrugged. “Says you. And maybe you can get people around town to listen to your whining for a little while. You might even get some of them doubting me. At least until I start saying that you’re full of shit. That you welshed on the deal. Who’re they gonna believe?”

  “They don’t have to believe anything. They only have to doubt. That’s enough to destroy trust, and business.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ozzy conceded. His voice sank to a whisper. “But when I fucking kill you for spreading bullshit rumors about me, that pretty much removes all doubt for most people, don’t ya think?”

  A cold sprinkle of panic splashed across the base of my spine. I’d had my life threatened plenty back when I was on the job. Guys in the back seat talking trash on the way to jail, or behind locked doors. Somehow, it felt a lot different sitting in a truck cab with a psychopath and his thug.

  Ozzy smiled at me again. “See? It all works out in the end. I’m actually doing you a favor here. You don’t belong in this racket, Jakey. You’re not this kind of guy. You’re a clerk. Now go back to your little fencing business, and leave the heavy lifting to the real men, huh?”

  He popped open the door and got out.

  I hesitated, then slid across the seat and dropped down to the asphalt.

  Ozzy gave me a light shove in the chest. I saw the move coming this time. I could have reacted, catching his hand and twisting it into a wrist lock.

  And then what? Brawl in the middle of the parking lot? With a package of dope in the tool chest of the truck next to us? Officer Burke or some other Falkner crony was probably already watching us. No need to give them probable cause.

  I accepted his push, absorbed it, and stepped backward.

  “Don’t let me hear from you again,” Ozzy said, waggling his finger at me. “I never fucking liked you from the beginning, so don’t push your luck.”

  He got back into the truck. Randall gunned the engine, roasting the tires. A little spray of loose debris kicked up behind him as the truck shot away from me.

  I watched it go. Then I got into my car and sat at the wheel for a long while. A momentary hopelessness came crashing in on me.

  Now what?

  What am I supposed to tell my guys about this?

  What is Falkner going to pull next?

  And what the hell was Helen doing back in my life?

  No answers came, and after a while I realized no one ever solved the secrets of the universe from a parked car in a grocery store parking lot.

  I headed home.

  ELEVEN

  Helen was waiting for me at the kitchen table, a glass of whisky in front of her. When she saw me, she stood up.

  “What happened?”

  I went to the kitchen sink and ran cold water. Then I rubbed my hands underneath the stream, before splashing the icy water on my face.

  “Jake? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction. It sounded thick to me, like I had a cold or something.

  “Did someone punch you?”

  I dried my hands and dabbed at my face gently. Helen’s hand came to rest on my shoulder.

  “Jake…”

  “It’s just some shit,” I told her. “Something I have to handle.”

  She looked at me, then nodded. “All right. It’s your business. I don’t want to pry.”

  “Good.”

  “But, Jake…is there anything I can do to help?”

  I had a vision of Helen smacking the bejesus out of Ozzy while Randall watched on with a dumbfounded expression. I smiled slightly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I was just imagining you handling this guy, is all.”

  Helen wrapped her arms around my waist. “Maybe we handle him together?”

  “Wow,” I said in a low voice. “When you come on, you definitely come on.”

  She kissed my neck near my shoulder, then at my jaw. “I can’t help it. It’s been a long time. I’ve missed you.”

  I soaked in the warmth of her body. “I…I missed you, too.” And as soon as I said it, I realized how true it was. Crazy but true.

  We stood there for a little while, her nuzzling my neck and me stroking her hair. I didn’t think of anything at all. I just enjoyed her presence.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have a favor to ask.”

  “What?”

  She pulled her head back to look me in the face. “It’s a lot to ask.”

  “So ask. Let me decide if it’s a lot.”

  Helen leaned away a little, then stepped back. Her hands dropped down to mine. She squeezed. “Okay. Here goes.”

  I waited.

  She gave me a tentative, slightly worried smile.

  “Jesus, what is it?” I prodded.

  She let out her breath in a long sigh. “I didn’t come back to town to see you. I mean, I would have sooner or later, but something else brought me back now .”

  “What?”

  “My mother died.”

  I blinked. “God, Helen. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s all right. We haven’t been close for a long time. After my parents split up, she tried to act like she hadn’t known what Dad was doing to me all those years. Let’s just say she didn’t take it well when I called her bullshit.” Helen took another deep breath and let it out. “But she’s gone, and I’m here for the funeral and all that goes along with that.”

  “I’m confused. Were you on speaking terms with her?”

  “No, not really. Not since I was sixteen.”

  “So if you two weren’t close, why are you going to the funeral?”

  She stared at me. “Is that a serious question?”

  “Yes.”


  “Jake, she’s my mother .”

  I thought about that. My own parents had been out of my life for so long, I had some difficulty processing what she meant. They weren’t bad people, but they moved to Florida while I was still a cop and we were lucky if we spoke four times a year.

  “All right,” I said. “Duty. I get it.”

  She nodded. “Some things you just do.”

  “I understand. What’s the favor you want to ask me?”

  “Will you go to the funeral with me?”

  I shrugged. “Sure.”

  “No, don’t say yes so easily. Let me tell you why first.”

  I motioned for her to continue.

  “My father will probably be there.”

  “Even though they’re divorced?”

  “Like I said, some things you just do. He’ll show, even if it is just for appearances sake, so he makes all those people see what a great guy he is and how Mom was the one who blew it.”

  “Do people know about…what he did to you?”

  “No,” she said. “I never told anyone except Mom. And now you.”

  “Not even your husband?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “Especially not him. Can you imagine what Kyle would have done if he found out?”

  I thought about it. “Probably tried to see your father prosecuted.”

  “Probably? He definitely would have. And he would have done so with single-minded fury. Trust me. I know him.”

  I know him, too, I thought, but said nothing.

  “That’s the other part of the favor,” she said.

  “What’s the other part?”

  “Kyle.”

  “What’s that mean—?” I started to say, then stopped.

  Helen fell silent and watched me.

  “You think Falkner’s going to be there?”

  “I know he will,” she whispered.

  “Why? Why on earth would he do that?”

  “Because it’s the only way he can manage to be in the same room with me without violating the no contact order.”

  I blinked again. “No cont—wait, you still have that?”

  “Of course.”