by I N Foggarty
The visitor leapt upon his remark. “And why might you say that?”
Only on hearing the visitors comment did he realise that he had not meant to vocalise his last thought. Ramone cursed his loose tongue as he digested the question. Hastily he thought up what he felt would be an adequate response. “She’s young and slightly spirited that’s all.”
“She is that,” the man agreed.
That remark worried Ramone slightly. How would he know she was ‘spirited’? The bitch had been asleep for the duration of his visit. Hadn’t she? “Yeah well she’s up for sale and we thought we’d give you first refusal since you’d already shown an interest.”
“I am honoured that you thought of me. Though as thrilled as I am sure your employer was at discovering he already had an interested party, I find it strange that I am hearing from you directly, rather than from that charming young lady with whom I spoke initially.”
This time the cigarette had travelled halfway to his lips before Ramone knew he had withdrawn it. He did not like that last comment one bit. Though he had only met the visitor once, he had a strong suspicion that he knew Sergio had absolutely no idea about this conversation. Quickly he forced his brain to come up with a plausible lie. “Tanya’s busy just now and asked me to deal with it.”
“Such a pity. I did enjoy conversing with that one.” The sincerity of the visitor’s remark took Ramone by surprise. Since when had anyone liked talking with Tanya? “Nevertheless I’m sure that the two of us can come to some arrangement.”
Crisis averted he thought. Hastily he held the smoke between his teeth, lit it and removed it. “She’s yours for three-hundred-thousand cash, plus we’ll throw in her cellmate for no extra. You can pick them up tomorrow morning.”
For the second time that afternoon Ramone found himself subject to a mocking laugh.
“My dear fellow...” Oh lord, the words were almost the same. Ramone shuddered and forced himself to pay attention. “…I could not possibly agree on such an amount for a specimen I have not personally inspected and had examined thoroughly by a trained physician.” Though the visitor's tone was laced with humour, he knew his words were no joke. “It will take a few days for my physician to be contacted and fly over here. They are such busy people after all.”
Shit. He had been afraid of such stipulations. He could not allow the man to have a doctor check her over nor wait the ‘few days’ for it to occur. He would have to try his luck and play hardball on that condition.
“Boss won’t let some quack he doesn’t know paw over his merchandise. If he damages her, she is worthless. How about I cut you a deal since we are friends now. Two-hundred-thousand for the pair and you can look her over like you did the last one?”
“I am afraid you still have your head in the clouds, my Friend. Even if I were to forgo flying my physician here to check her over I would have to insist on conducting a full inspection myself before I would be willing to part with anything in the region of one-hundred-thousand, let alone two.”
Ramone took a draw from the smoke. He’d already hit the one-hundred-thousand mark and not even come close to reaching agreeable terms. It was becoming increasingly likely that Roca would need to part with his share. However, before he could even contemplate such matters it looked like he would have to allow some concessions. “What’s reasonable to you?”
There was silence for a moment while the visitor considered his next gambit. “Why don’t we say fifty-thousand for the pair as seen? Needless to say, I am being exceptionally generous here.”
“Ok,” Ramone said, gritting his teeth. It may only have been half what he had hoped for, however, the slow nature of the man’s voice told him that the possibility of more still existed, pending the aforementioned concessions. “What if we agree to let you inspect them?”
“Then I would be happy to negotiate an extra sum of up to one-hundred-thousand based on each of them being pure and in good health.”
“Sounds fair,” Ramone grunted. Though in reality, he wondered whether they would even get the fifty-thousand. After all the red-haired bitch’s health could not exactly be considered ‘good’. “If you come around here for nine tomorrow we’ll have them ready.”
“Very well I shall see you bright and breezy tomorrow morning. Until then I shall say adieu.”
The smugness in the visitor's tone suggested to Ramone that for the second time that day he had just been screwed. That only begged the question of how much the man would have been willing to part with had he gotten everything his own way. However, it did not matter and he would never know.
“Yeah. Bye,” Ramone said curtly.
“Good day.”
Finishing the roll-up in his hand Ramone threw it to the side and stomped down all of his frustration on it. Grinding it into the dirt.
##
The rest of the days hours ticked by in an awkward fashion as Ramone sat almost expressionless with the wheels in his head turning repeatedly.
The ageing, pristine, skeletal figure of Jasper had sat for nearly an hour with his face screwed up and a look of disgust passing over it every time he looked at the younger, slob of a brick that was El Roca. Finally, the doctor had stood from his perch, an old black stool with what looked like a white handkerchief covering it, and rubbed some gel from a small blue tub under his nostrils. His expression relaxed somewhat after that but he made sure to keep his distance from the two men pretending to be too busy with his patient.
Ramone and Roca had sat with a musty deck of cards and gambled using a packet of mouldy peanuts. Ramone looked over at one stage while the cards were shuffled and watched the old sawbones carefully clean a cut on the girl's shoulder. He looked away but knew the old git had caught him watching.
For the next hour or two, bar a few grunted exchanges, little was said. Eventually, Roca had left to get some food, leaving him alone with the doc.
The silence was intense as Jasper once again descended from his perch to check his patient. He held her wrist and stared at his watch while Ramone crossed his arms and tried to get comfortable on the creaky sofa. The movement caused a twinge of pain in his almost forgotten rib injury. He hissed slightly and turned himself in the other direction to stare at the blank TV.
“So, Ramone, how is the wife these days?”
Ramone looked up and gave the doctor a dark look. “She’s fine,” he grunted. Turning his attention away he picked up the playing cards and began to shuffle them. Even though they were not married, Jasper liked to refer to Maria as ‘the wife’.
“You know, Ramone, when people normally say things are fine to me it usually means they are about to bleed out over my examination room.”
Ramone turned again to look in the direction the voice had come from and found the Doctor’s gaze fixed on him skeletal digits fingering a brass pocket watch. “Tell me, is the metaphorical lifeblood seeping through the cracks of your relationships?”
Ramone caught a glimpse of the thin smile that played on Jasper’s lips as he failed to meet the man’s gaze. The doctor had an uncanny ability at making him feel uncomfortable at every step and turn. “Something like that,” he finally said.
“Yes well, you should watch your step. The only thing more blood-sucking than a woman is a shady lawyer.”
Ramone gave him a sideways look. “Or a black-hearted doctor?”
Jasper let out a hollow laugh. “The physician heals. The lawyer simply cuts through your purse strings.”
Ramone grinned slightly and the doctor promptly ceased his verbal probing. With any luck, he had prevented it becoming physical. Foolishly attempting a riffle shuffle with the cards, he dropped the entire deck as a sudden pressure followed by a sharp pain flared up in his left side. Cursing he turned to see the waxy figure of the sawbones looming over him, bony fingers outstretched and poised over the space Ramone’s ribs had just occupied. He had not heard the man ghost across the room. Jasper smiled maniacally at him and Ramone opened his mouth to yell something offensive,
only for the sound of the door bursting open to silence him.
“You want me to give you guys some quiet time?” the gravelly voice of Roca boomed, his thick form filling up the doorway.
As though Roca had brought the sun in with him, along with the smell of garlic chicken the doctor withdrew to his perch. They ate a bucket of greasy fried chicken that had required reheating in the microwave. Jasper had remained on the stool and declined the offer of food with a look that suggested that even the offer were detestable. Roca had gladly eaten his share but Ramone could not shake the feeling that the doc spent the next few hours watching him.
Eventually, as midnight approached, the doctor checked the red-haired bitch over one last time and pulling his stethoscope back around his neck, finally began to remove the IV line.
“Is that it?” Ramone asked, peering over the doctor’s shoulder to take a look. The redness in the bitch’s cheeks had drastically reduced over the twelve hours, however, her general complexion still looked pale.
“It’s the best I can do without a long-term treatment option and without running blood tests to narrow down exactly what infections she might have.”
“Will she pass for healthy by 9 am?”
The doctor laughed. “She’ll be lucky ever to pass for healthy again.” Ramone opened his mouth to argue that it had not been what they had agreed when Jasper silenced him with a glare. “However, will she be awake and able to stand up on her own? Possibly. Nevertheless, she will probably be fit for purpose. You could always explain her condition as being a side effect of the drugs she was given to keep her docile. Hopefully, no one will notice any difference.”
That actually sounded like a good idea. Though he played no part in that side of the business, Ramone knew that the girls Sergio sold were first forcibly addicted to heroin to allow the buyer to have an invisible leash on them. Though such measures were likely to deter the visitor they could argue that they had given the bitch something to make her more compliant, temporarily.
“Now if we are all done here I would appreciate it if you would pay me for my services and then take me home. The longer I wait here the more patients I could potentially lose. I would rather not return to find a corpse littering my doorstep. Too many awkward questions.”
“Fine,” Ramone replied and made for the door. “Roca, make sure you feed the other one. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Roca grumbled but complied with the instruction. As Jasper followed him up to the van, the doctor spoke once more. “I would also advise, Ramone, that you try to feed her something when she wakes up and make sure she drinks plenty of fluids. However, I would recommend bottled water… god knows what contaminants come out of the taps here.”
Ramone did not reply. He opened the shutter, drove the van out and then closed it behind the doc. The conversation died and only the voice of the late night radio DJ broke the monotony of the trip back to Chicago. However, when Ramone turned left instead of right at a key junction Jasper began to complain until informed that if he wanted his payment then they would have to take a detour.
Pulling the van up outside the old bungalow, he did not need to see that the lights were off to know Maria would not be home. The previous week being the exception Maria typically did not finish her job at the club until three in the morning. That gave him plenty of time to get in and out without her ever knowing he had been. Telling Jasper to wait he climbed out of the van and made his way up the path. Fumbling in his pocket for the key, he withdrew it and inserted it into the lock holding his breath. The door opened. He had doubted Maria would have the readies to change the locks that quickly.
Making his way through the house to the bedroom without turning on a light was something he had learned to do a long time ago. Maria had often said that if she kicked his ass to the curb that she would have the place looking far better. Therefore, when he illuminated the bedroom to discover that it looked to be in exactly the same state as when he had last seen it, Ramone could not help but smile. Though he would not be able to laud it over her without arousing suspicion, Maria might have learned that he had not been to blame for all their problems… hopefully.
Opening the wardrobe and his smile widened slightly. After all this time, his partner had never thought to look under her own nose for his rainy day fund. He had to clear out some of Maria’s old work ‘outfits’ in order to lift the carpet and prise up the floorboards. Pulling out the bundled up notes he gave them a quick count. There would be just enough for him to pay Jaspers outrageous bill and have some left over to make a getaway should the need arise.
Stuffing the money into an old bag he began to put everything back the way he found it. Nearly finished his eyes lingered on the box of old lingerie and he recalled the image of the ginger girl standing in her unappealing attire. The manner in which she had been displayed had been almost farcical. He scoffed, Pirelli may not have cared about such things but he would bet it had been a factor in detracting the visitor first time around. It might be worth a punt he thought as he cobbled together the two best matching sets of bras, knickers, suspender belts and hold-ups he could find. For the first time ever he was thankful for Maria’s small breasts. Both girls would have looked ridiculous in bras made for a bigger bust.
Leaving the house more or less the way he found it, Ramone made his way back to the van and the waiting doctor. Ten minutes all in and he was left standing with everything he owned in the world and with luck his only hope for the future.
“Trouble fishing coppers out of the piggy bank, Ramone?” Jasper said when he climbed in and closed the door.
“I’ve got your money,” he dug his hand into the bag and grabbed the majority of the bundled notes before handing them over. A chill shot up his arm when the doctor's icy fingers brushed against his skin.
Jasper flicked through the notes before depositing them inside his archaic leather bag “Very well. Now if you don’t mind I no doubt have clientele waiting.”
Ramone said nothing as he shifted the van into first gear. When he reached the end of the street, the doc spoke again, conversationally. “Tell me, Ramone. How long have you fantasised about being a woman?”
The tyres squealed as he hit the brake peddle and the van lurched to a halt; stalling. Turning his head, a look of horror plastered across his face, he took in the sawbones grin.
“The hell?” was the best he could articulate. Behind him, someone blasted a horn in protest to his sudden stop.
“Brasseries and pantyhose, Ramone?” the doctor asked indicating the bag. He must have seen the contents. “I would have pegged you as more the mini skirt and heels type.”
His face burning brighter than the days sun Ramone restarted the engine and set off. “Don’t be… not for me… fuck sake.”
“Ah yes. I can see that now. I am sure El Roca will look most exquisite in that little get up you have selected for him. Do the two of you have someone else coming over to play?”
The thought of Roca dressed in such a manner was perhaps the worst image Ramone’s head had ever conjured. The sooner he got rid of the doc the better it would be for his own health and sanity. “Not for Roca either! It’s for making the bitches more presentable for Mr fancy pants,” he spat.
“Yes well, good luck with that. I am sure that should the worst happen you might be able to get a dime or two for old Roca. A brickyard might be willing to pay for him. But if you want my advice, use plenty of lubricant… and that is my medical opinion.”
“For fuck sake…” he trailed off.
The doctor’s laugh sounded heartier than Ramone would have thought possible and he bit down on his lip. He did not need reminding that he would probably have to render Roca as dead as a brick before all of this concluded. In silence, they drove the rest of the way back to the doctor’s clinic where, despite Jasper’s earlier predictions, no corpse decorated the front porch.
When the doctor climbed out of the van Ramone breathed a sigh of relief and fingered the steering wheel for a
moment. His load lightened in more ways than one he started to plan his long trek back out to the garage. It was late and he would need to try to grab some shut-eye.
A knock at the driver side window made him jump. A cold sweat beading on his brow he turned expecting to see a police officer and nearly fainted when for some inexplicable reason the face of Jasper stared back at him. Ramone frowned and cast a glance at the house then back at the doctor before rolling down the window.
“What?” he spat and then stopped as the doctor’s thin arm thrust inside clutching a small bottle of pills. “‘The fuck is that?”
“For your ribs. Or if you like for the…” Jasper paused for a moment. A brief smile flashed across his lips. “…bruising and the headache.” Before Ramone could reply and reject the costly little oblongs the doctor shook his head. “On the house, Ramone. Let’s call it for old time sake.” He pressed the bottle into Ramone’s hand and headed towards the house not stopping to look back.
Ramone watched him go not sure what to make of it and a small part of him wondering if that would be the last time he saw the creepy old git. After a few pensive seconds, he shook himself, pocketed the pill bottle and rolled up the window. Dawn would not be long in coming and he could only hope that it was not just the day that would receive a fresh start.
Walking free
The sky was dark, cloudless and starry with a waxing moon hanging over the grassy landscape. Behind the only building in sight, inside a rusted out old trash compactor, the crumpled body of Dylan Rodgers resided. A two-inch split in his scalp had long since clotted the hair on the back of his head into a bloody mess, literally. Slowly he opened his eyes. However, before he could even comprehend his surroundings the throbbing pain from the wound caused him to wince. What had happened? He quickly regretted having the thought for it only intensified the pain.
This felt worse than any hangover he had ever experienced. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the low light level, the walls of the container coming into focus. Struggling to disentangle his limbs Dylan tried to stand only for his stiff legs to give up in protest. He groaned in defeat. What had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was hiding up on the roof of the building. It still hurt to think, however, being unable to rise left him with little else to do.