Bad Reputation: The Complete Collection

by Matt Hader

  The day they moved into the old house in Balmoral, Franky “Five Bucks” called again. This time he wanted Keith to pay the additional $100,000 promised in their initial deal.

  Franky didn’t even feign any pleasantries this time around. But Keith had grown a spine, though - something that Franky didn’t expect.

  “Frederick, do you really want to go down this road? Hey, I’m talking to you, Frederick Gregers of 12 East Arthur Avenue in Oak Park?”

  “How do you know this?” said the supremely surprised Franky “Five Bucks” in his Chicago/Danish accent.

  “I’ve been watching you, Frederick. You may want to change up your routine. You do the same thing every day. You go to the same places. You’re very predictable,” said Keith.

  It was true, too. Franky “Five Bucks” hated changing up his normal, daily activities and routine. He was very set in his ways.

  He woke at six, showered, dressed and went to breakfast at the same greasy diner every day of the week. He would do some phone work from the front room of his house and then head back to the same diner for lunch at 11:45. By one in the afternoon, he was back on the phone at his house, mostly collecting on debts owed to him.

  Business was good, too. At 4:45, Franky would head right back to the exact same diner. And by six in the evening, he settled back in at home for a night of DVR’d game shows and America’s Funniest Home Videos reruns. Day in and day out, it was always the same for Franky “Five Bucks.”

  “You shit! You don’t threaten me!”

  “Frederick, you’re not used to dealing with guys like me. I’m willing to put it all on the line,” Keith lied. “I’ll take you out, and I don’t care if I die doing it. In fact, that’s exactly what I want. That way my family will get the life insurance. I want to die, Frederick. Want to join me?”

  There was a long silence on the phone line. “You leave me alone,” said a shaky Franky “Five bucks,” and he hung up.

  And it really wouldn’t matter if Keith had actually followed through on his threat or not because within six months Frederick - Franky “Five Bucks” - Gregers would be dead from a massive heart attack – brought on by stress and his lousy eating habits.

  Keith sat back down at his desk, picked up the phone and dialed. “Have the finance director come to my office immediately. The Fourth of July Festival will be on after all. What? Right now, yes. And who’s in charge of making new signs? Okay, put me through to him.”

  With the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, he spun in his chair and put the note and the envelope through his shredder – but he kept the baby face mask as a souvenir.

  ***

  Gretchen, the shampoo tech from the spa in Deer Park, left work early after receiving a similar envelope as the one Keith had just opened in his office.

  Now, as she stood in the teller line at her bank, propped up on crutches, and sporting a new knee brace, she wondered if she would even go back to her minimum wage spa job ever again.

  Maybe she would finally look into attending college. Or she could travel. That was something she always dreamed about when she was growing up back in Iowa. Who wouldn’t want to trade an ocean of corn rows to having Jamaican cornrows placed in their hair while gazing at the real ocean?

  She did make up her mind about one thing, though, when she was the next customer to be helped by the teller, a handsome man about her age. She definitely wouldn’t even bother going back to the spa again. The $100,000 cashier’s check in her hand would see her through for a while, she was quite sure of that.

  The handwritten note that was placed into the large envelope along with the check apologized for the injury she received when she aggravated her knee chasing down John. “I’m glad that I didn’t tackle that asshole…” said Gretchen to herself.

  “What was that?” asked the handsome teller.

  Gretchen smiled and waved her own comment away as she hobbled forward to deposit her check.

  “Hey, what are you doing after work?” she asked the teller with a self-assured smirk on her face.

  ***

  The very same hotel clerk that John had robbed at gunpoint in the upscale, Lake Geneva hotel couldn’t believe his bad luck.

  This would be twice that he was robbed by the asshole wearing a baby face mask. The poor guy was still battling the emotional turmoil that the last robbery brought to his life.

  He tried to cover for it when he was at work, but he was terrified most days. He had spent many sleepless nights seeing the robbery play out as if on a video loop. He needed to regain the carefree life he had led up to the point of being robbed.

  To do that the hotel clerk needed empowerment in his life, and fast. The psychologist he had been seeing ever since the crime occurred had also advised him of the same thing. If he could get control over smaller portions of his life, things would return to normal for him.

  But something was different this time around. The Baby Face Robber didn’t point a gun at him. He actually slid a pile of bundled bills back across the counter as if making a deposit at a bank.

  The hotel clerk made his move. He dove over the counter, tackled the assailant and pinned his arms behind his back. He didn’t really know what came over him, but he knew he had to act, and act quickly. He was pissed that this baby face mask-wearing asshole had ruined his life.

  “Okay, man, take her easy. Brother, I’m giving the money back, can’t you see?” said Dwayne under the baby face mask.

  “Call the cops,” screamed the hotel clerk.

  “Don’t bother, brother, I already called ‘em,” said Dwayne. “Hey, you know anything about the chow in the prisons here? I heard it’s pretty good. You wouldn’t mind taking this mask off my face, would ya? Kinda stuffy.”

  ***

  John strolled along the streets of his Balmoral neighborhood with a plastic grocery bag full of loose, fresh eggs.

  He was eyeing potential targets.

  He stopped in front of the house that was owned by Emil, the 80-year-old Dink’s Diner regular. Emil was most likely responsible for a few of the egg stains back at John’s home. Maybe more than a few of the stains, but John didn’t have definitive proof.

  By the way Emil had treated him for the past 20 years, yelling from afar that he had ruined his son’s life, he was pretty sure he was an egg tosser.

  John reached into the bag and gently grasped a single egg. He hefted the small sphere, gauging its weight and how much power he would need to launch it, directly into the large, picture window at the front of the home.

  John was surprised when Emil himself stepped into the living room of his home and peered out at him.

  Emil noticed John, the egg and John’s smirk. He flipped John the bird.

  But John didn’t throw the egg. He had a change of plan. He simply walked up the driveway of Emil’s house and toward his garage.

  “You better not, Sparky!” said Emil, standing at an open window in his kitchen, as John stepped inside the garage. “Hey, what in the hell are you doing?”

  John dragged one of Emil’s empty garbage cans out of the garage and placed it in the middle of the driveway, just as Emil charged from his back door.

  “I’m calling your brother. He’ll arrest you for trespassing.”

  “I have a good feeling that he won’t,” said John.

  “Screw you, Sparky. You ruined my kid. He’s a nobody because of you. You almost ruined this entire town, too, you, you arsonist. You’re a criminal!”

  “I’ve seen your son around town delivering the mail.”

  “Don’t you dare speak with me about my family,” said Emil, adding, “Leave! You go right now.”

  “I’ve seen your son playing guitar at a bar on Route 14, too, and you know what? Whether he’s delivering the mail or picking a tune, he looks like
a happy man to me. Not everyone from the ‘burbs grows up to be a lawyer or a doctor…or a great basketball player.”

  John smiled, opened the lid of the garbage can and dropped the entire bag of fresh eggs into the bottom with a wet thud. He still hefted the single egg, and Emil’s face froze.

  “Oh…you better not!” he screamed.

  John dropped the single egg in with the others and walked away. As he left, he said, “And here all these years I thought that I was the pitiful one.”

  Emil didn’t like that at all but John was right.

  Emil, and all the others like him, who had given John shit over the years were cowards, never really confronting him face-to-face. They would spout rude comments from across a room, a street or a crowded grocery store, but none of them had really ever spoken directly to John.

  The late night, stealthy, egg-throwing escapades cinched it, too. They were weasels. At least John had the idea of going public once his misguided, and yes, now admittedly delusional, “Save the Fourth of July Festival” plan was complete.

  Emil, shaking with anger, dragged his garbage can back into his garage.

  CHAPTER 49

  Amy was dressed down in an inexpensive, gray-colored pullover and jeans. She sat uncomfortably, and make-up free, in the posh surroundings of the Bistro on Route 14 in Balmoral awaiting John’s arrival.

  The place was gorgeous, complete with original artwork on the walls, white linens on the tables and a well-dressed and extremely attentive wait staff.

  John was late.

  She was pissed and didn’t want to be there. She was dressed inappropriately for the establishment, but she didn’t care one little bit. She was here because, admittedly, she really did need this Kid Crew operation to work out.

  She could start her job search all over again, but she didn’t want to kid herself. The employment market was brutal. There were no jobs for the getting. She didn’t like this at all, but she weighed her options and decided to roll the dice on this dinner date. She didn’t have to completely follow through if they did, indeed, wind up back at John’s place after dinner.

  “He never seemed like that type of guy,” she thought as the waiter poured her another glass of sparkling water.

  Wine was offered, but she wanted to keep her head as clear as possible. Who knew where this meeting will all lead. She may have to physically fend for herself after dinner. She didn’t want to soften her angry edge with alcohol.

  ***

  “You do exactly what I tell you to do, okay? Exactly how we talked about it. We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” said John as he and Danny drove in the old station wagon toward the area of Balmoral Road and Route 14.

  The sun was setting fast. As they slowly drove past what John had told Danny was a new lumber wholesaler, Danny took a look at the building. All of the front windows were covered in brown paper so no one could get a look inside.

  “Is it even open?”

  John said, “Yeah, I cased it earlier. That’s what I was doing when you saw me with your mom. They’ve been doing well, so there’s got to be some cash there.”

  “These morons are going to shit their pants when we throw down,” he laughed.

  “Danny, we’re doing this my way. We don’t scream and yell. We don’t showboat. We go in, ask for the money, take the money, and we leave.”

  “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

  ***

  “Hi, Amy,” he said.

  She was a little startled as she turned and finally noticed Henry standing a few feet away. He was holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a large manila envelope. He was dressed in an expensive sport coat, open shirt and trouser ensemble. Amy looked around the room, now very uncomfortable with her evening’s clothing choice.

  “You look beautiful. May I sit?”

  “Sure. I’m waiting for someone, though.” She didn’t like the tone she used, so she continued with a softer, “What are you doing here?”

  Henry didn’t seem thrown by her “waiting for someone” comment one bit. He handed over the flowers, took a seat and motioned to the waiter. As he approached the table, Henry said, “We’ll have the Bordeaux now. Thank you.”

  “I’m not drinking, Henry.”

  “I think I may be the one you’re waiting for, Amy.”

  ***

  The traffic on Route 14 was fairly light at this time on a weeknight and John was glad for that.

  He and Danny had parked the car two buildings away in the back of the closed car wash. As they prepared to step through the front doors of the Kid Crew/fake lumber wholesaler, John motioned for Danny to pull his baby face mask down over his face. They were both armed with 9mm pistols and dressed in dark blue windbreakers.

  “Let’s go,” said John as he opened the door for Danny. The kid charged into the retail space and accidentally fired a shot directly at Larry’s head. Luckily, he had crappy aim.

  Larry was able to quickly duck down behind the front counter.

  “What the fuck?!” screamed Larry. He knew that the gun was loaded with blanks, but that paper and plastic wadding that rocketed out of the barrel could still do a lot of damage if it hit you in the head.

  John grabbed the gun away from Danny and gently said, “Kid, relax, okay. Do it the way we talked about.”

  John stepped around the counter where he could get a look at Larry to make sure he was okay. Larry gave John a “what the hell” look before he stood up again.

  “Okay, don’t shoot. I got a family,” said Larry, giving John a “was that okay?” expression. John shrugged a little and nodded. Larry punched a button on the cash register and the drawer popped open.

  John handed Danny the gun back and said, “Do this.”

  Danny was a little more careful handling the gun this time.

  “Put it all in the bag,” said Danny.

  But he didn’t produce a bag. John cleared his throat and Danny finally understood. He reached into his back pocket and yanked out a plastic grocery bag. Larry took the bag from Danny and began putting the stacks of cash inside.

  ***

  When Henry had arrived at the Bistro he immediately asked the maître d’ for the envelopes John said were waiting there for him.

  Earlier in the day on the phone, John had advised Henry, “Don’t mess this up. This is your shot. Down deep inside she wants this to happen. I’m sure of it. She may not realize it yet, but she will. Treat her with respect or I will hunt you down and hurt you. Are we clear?”

  “I love her, John. I won’t hurt her.”

  “I’ll be checking up on you from time to time,” John said.

  Inside the envelope marked with Henry’s name was a cashier’s check for $100,000 and a handwritten note – “Save your company.”

  At the table, Henry finally handed Amy the other envelope. As she took control of the envelope, she noticed that her name was handwritten on the front.

  “Open it,” Henry said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Go ahead and open it,” he said, as he sipped his wine and smiled.

  As Amy carefully opened the envelope, the waiter stepped up to the table and delivered two, toaster-sized, gift wrapped boxes. Amy and Henry looked at one another and then to the waiter.

  Henry said, “What’s this?”

  “From an admirer,” the waiter said as he stepped away.

  So as Amy opened her envelope, Henry tore into the wrapping around the box in front of him. He opened the box and extracted a small metal sculpture exactly like the ones John had created in his garage from pieces of metal junk.

  The sculpture depicted a man sitting in a chair with his hand out to the side. Both Henry and Amy were confused.

  Amy said, “What a strange little pile of metal. Go ahead an
d open the other one.”

  She then reached into the envelope and extracted a stack of legal papers that were crafted at a law office on East Haddock Place in downtown Chicago. The title of the legal brief was: Sole Ownership Agreement for the Amy Bowling Kid Crew franchise venture.

  Henry finally got the other box opened and pulled out a similar piece to the first one. Only this sculpture was a woman sitting in a chair – her hand extended as well. Henry placed the two sculptures side-by-side, and their hands fit perfectly together.

  Amy was totally baffled by what was transpiring.

  As she allowed the envelope to fall, open side down, on the table, a handwritten note and a single key slid out.

  The note read: “You are the sole owner of the Balmoral area Kid Crew. It’s all yours free and clear. The rent, utilities, and insurance have been paid in full for the next three years. You may not think that you’ve earned this, but you have. You’ve saved my life, Amy, and this is how I’d like to repay you. Be good to Henry. He loves you. Thank you for helping me to get clean and sober.”

  The note was signed “J.”

  ***

  As Larry placed the last of the money, $1,500, into the bag, John tugged on Danny’s collar. It was time to leave. But Danny didn’t want to go. He stood there and just stared at Larry.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here,” said John.

  John gave Larry a little nod and the dreadlock-wearing man reached back under the counter, coming back up with a sawed-off shotgun.

  John forcefully shoved Danny toward the back door of the building as Larry fired off a blank round over their heads.

  “Go! Go!” screamed John.

  Danny, now scared shitless, finally got the message and bolted toward the back door that John was guiding him towards. John was right behind him.