Fast Bang Booze

by Lawrence Maddox

  “Did he brag about Popov?” Vlad said to Janie. “Did he do the retard noise for you he makes?”

  Janie got down on one knee. “Just tell him, Frank. Tell him where you put the money.”

  The Russian from Violet’s picked me up by my shirt and flung me onto a chair.

  Vlad must’ve known the money wouldn’t be with Popov anymore. Suddenly it dawned on my that Vlad wanted to know where the drop had been. Those train station lockers were used as a drop for Popov. Were being used at this very moment. I’d dropped something there before I’d come to Ray’s. Something else of value was in them right now.

  “Brag, retard. Make that retard noise to let her know what kind of man you are.”

  I groaned aloud. My voice cracked, but no turkey gobble. I tried it again. Nothing.

  “I figure you out, retard.” Vlad said. He sat down next to Janie and put his arm around her. “He was nothing. Small time street loser. Punk. Grunge kid. He was hired by Koreans during the riots for protection and got people killed.”

  That stung. Vlad had done his homework on me.

  “He doesn’t wash. Young bum. Toilet drinker. Shoplifter. He doesn’t care where he ends up. Can’t even speak. But I figure him out. Retard gets drunk, he find the tongue.” Vlad turned back to me. “Were you drinking with pretty girl tonight? Talking like normal?” Vlad stroked her hair.

  I cleared my throat loudly, spitting out small chunks of whatever had been in my gut.

  Vlad looked at me expectantly.

  I took a deep breath, relaxed, let it happen. The gobble was a little forced. It wasn’t half as frightening as when I’m totally straight and revved up, but it was the gobble. I kept it up for a good five seconds.

  Vlad clapped, excited. “Did you hear that, Jane?”

  She stared at me, shocked. It must’ve been clear to her now.

  This is who I am.

  I glanced at her, looked away. I couldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Maybe coffee will get him to talk,” Janie finally said. “Or an espresso, if I can figure out how to use the machine. Then we can leave this loser behind.”

  “The instructions are taped on the fridge,” Ray said from the floor.

  Vlad slapped my face. “Where are the lockers? Talk, or I kill you and your friend. Slow. Slice by slice.”

  Chapter 24

  1993

  My fancy-ass shirt was soaked through with sweat. My legs ached with every step. The Frank tank was empty.

  Popov looked beyond pissed when I pulled his gag out.

  “The money?” Popov said.

  I shook my head.

  “Vlad?”

  I shrugged. Vlad was gone. So was the money. We were done. All that action had only taken fourteen minutes. It was six minutes after three.

  “These damn weirdoes show up. Looking for you. Tie me up.” Popov said.

  Maybe Dr. Matt had some information, but I had to untie Popov first. I tried to hurry, but the cords were hard as hell to figure out. Cape Man was good at this shit. I was still shaky, too. It took a while just to get his hands loose. I saw a growing spot of blood on Popov’s shirt under his jacket. I pointed. He gave a tiny shrug like it wasn’t worth mentioning.

  “You are not going anywhere, victim.”

  I turned to see Cape Man, back on his feet. He pointed his chic 9mm Sphinx at me. Leather pants now replaced the shrunken-head banana hammock. Small burnt letters on his studded leather gun holster spelled out Zandar Enterprises, Inc.

  Blood streamed down his temple. Crack Eyes’ shot had cut a pretty deep swath.

  We didn’t have time for trick-or-treat. Popov was going to need help.

  “Surprised, Speedy?” Esmerelda held a Browning. Freckles were visible beneath the powder on her face. So was the discoloring around her left eye, a souvenir from yours truly. I sensed she was strange-hot underneath the costume.

  “What do you want?” Popov stepped forward.

  Cape Man backed up, giving himself room to survey the scene. “Sit, foreigner!”

  Popov sat wearily on the couch. Behind him, I could see foggy bits of moonlight through the curtain, illuminating a black Beamer parked in Popov’s driveway. It hadn’t been there before. Our surprise had finally arrived.

  “I think I understand now,” Cape Man said. He pointed the gun at me. “You don’t speak English. That’s why I haven’t heard a squeak out of you. I thought it was just a test of wills. How utterly disappointing.”

  Popov and I exchanged looks. Cape Man was one weird dude.

  “You want money?” Popov asked.

  The dominatrix handed Cape Man a fresh scarf. “Are you feeling all right, Rick baby?”

  “Zandar, unruly bitch!” he said. “It’s Zandar during a performance. Haven’t you learned a damn thing from me?” Cape Man turned to me. “Where’s my car?”

  “Down the street. And this one speaks English,” Popov answered.

  “Zip it, foreigner.” Cape Man said. “I’m not afraid to get freaky. Esmerelda, the handcuffs.” He turned away, stumbling against the wall.

  Cape Man slowly slid down Popov’s golden wallpaper, his cape bunching up behind his head. “Perhaps when I’m through with you, car thief, you can join that fanciful group of castrated outcasts known as Hedras. They travel the streets of Calcutta, singing off-key while dancing about like wild children. They break up solemn ceremonies until someone pays them to leave. Their curses are considered deadly. Have you read Forrester?”

  Esmerelda forgot about me and ran to him. “Rick!” she screamed.

  I picked up Cape Man’s gun where it had fallen.

  Popov kicked Cape Man in the ribs.

  “Leave him alone!” Esmerelda pleaded. “Can’t you see he’s delirious?”

  Popov punched him in the face. Cape Man’s head lolled.

  “Stop!” Esmerelda implored. She pointed the gun at us, but I snatched it away. Popov collapsed back onto the couch.

  “How you find us?” Popov asked.

  “Rick called me,” Esmerelda said. “I live in Eagle Rock. We followed you from Violet’s.”

  “You here to help Vlad?” Popov asked.

  “We’re here because Rick wanted his car. And some payback. From him,” she said, pointing at me. “It was a mistake.”

  “It’s Zandar, bitch. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” Cape Man mumbled through a bloody mouth.

  “I’m sorry, baby. Show’s over,” Esmerelda said.

  Popov turned to me for corroboration.

  I nodded.

  The door opened. Everyone quieted as high heels click-clacked on Popov’s hardwood floor. Just like at the Tiki. Anything could happen when you heard that sound.

  “You looking for these?” Calendar dropped two briefcases.

  She was our surprise.

  I guessed that she’d arrived when I saw the black Beamer. I was shocked Calendar actually showed up. I couldn’t underestimate the ties between her and Popov.

  Popov didn’t say anything while his eyebrows danced a jig. “Vlad?” he finally asked.

  “He was limping out with the briefcases,” Calendar said. “Right up to me. Didn’t see me in the dark until he was looking down my barrel. He tried to deal, but I’ll never trust that scumbag again. So I got the briefcases and he split. He drove off in an Audi with pussy plates that said ‘Dr. Matt.’”

  “Give,” Popov said.

  Calendar brought the briefcases over. That’s when she noticed the blood. “Damn Popov. You’re bleeding.”

  Popov popped one briefcase. Hundred dollar bricks.

  I looked at all that money. Here’s what it was all about. At the moment it was math I couldn’t wrap my brain around.

  Calendar sat next to Popov. “You need to go to the hospital. Like, now.”

  Popov turned to her. “How much?”

  “How much what?”

  Popov glared steadily at her.

  “You said you’d pay me for spying on Gilbert, so I grabbed a few tho
usand is all. A girls gotta eat.”

  “That also pays for ride to Huntington Hospital.” Popov turned to me. “Frank, no cops here. If these two weirdos are a problem, kill them.” He gestured for me to come over.

  “Closer,” he said. I bent down. “Glendale Train Depot. Know it?” I nodded. I’d taken the Greyhound out of there before. He told me to leave the briefcases in two lockers there, numbered sixteen and seventeen. He reached into his pocket and handed me a key ring. I took the keys. I had to get going.

  “Wait,” Popov said. He took his big fat Rolex off of his thigh-sized wrist and handed it to me. I stared at it, not knowing what to say, if I could say anything. “Not for you, Frank,” Popov said, as if he’d read my mind. “Include with the briefcases. Just in case I’m short.” He gestured towards Calendar. Popov kissed my cheek and patted my head. “When you come back, sleep here tonight.” It was three thirty-five. I had to book.

  “I’ll call the cleanup crew.” Calendar said, holding up a Motorola. She hurried Popov out the door. I heard the Beamer start up and peal out. I quickly surveyed the damage. Crack Eyes was dead. I guessed Dr. Matt was too. Vlad didn’t have to do that to the doctor. It chilled me that he was still out there somewhere.

  I helped Esmerelda load Cape Man into her beat-up VW. Calendar had already warned Esmerelda to keep her “damn bitch mouth shut” about everything or “every vato in town will be after your freak-show asses.” I think Esmerelda got the message. I wondered if she took Cape Man to the same hospital that Popov was going to, and what would happen if Popov and Cape Man became hospital roommates.

  I left for Glendale. It was three forty-five. I’d make it if nothing got in my way.

  I parked the Spyder in the red zone in front of the train depot.

  Inside, people waited. Smoking. Reading. Sleeping.

  I deposited the briefcases in the lockers. Right on time. I could hear the train whistle in the distance.

  When I came back to the house after fulfilling Popov’s instructions, I raided his incredible fridge, ignoring the cleanup crew, who also ignored me. I considered roasting the beat-up lamb, but I couldn’t wait for grub any longer. I made two roast beef sandwiches, grabbed some pickles, pickled herring, a chilled bottle of Belaya, and a pack of Marlboros.

  Popov said I could crash at his place. I had a view, a thread count beyond my experience, walls of gold, and a fridge I could look into without opening the door. It felt good.

  I pigged out on the balcony. An occasional truck horn blared from the distant Foothill Freeway, but otherwise the winds ruled the night, stirring up trees and giving me goosebumps from my stilt-house perch. I whipped out my pocket notebook and tried to make sense of the evening with all the words I hadn’t been able to say.

  I came back inside an hour later to finally crash. There she was, in the kitchen, standing over the stove. Calendar pulled a tray out of the oven. The pictures that had tormented her were burning, curling like deflated, defeated monsters. Calendar pushed the tray back inside and slammed the oven shut. More time ticked by.

  I tapped her on the shoulder.

  She turned to me with a sharp intake of breath, swinging at me. I blocked her wild punches while I studied her beautiful mask of fear.

  She was probably thinking maybe there was still some shadow lurking. Something that had survived that night with Gilbert. Something colder than the negatives, more secret than Vlad snapping pictures. And it was waiting. It had leapt out of the fire and it was coming. Coming for one last desperate charge. One last shot at taking her down.

  But it was just me, Popov’s driver, looking for Popov’s stash of frozen waffles. Calendar relaxed. After a smoke she left. When I heard the door shut, I turned the oven off.

  Chapter 25

  1994

  It was the worst espresso I’d ever tasted.

  “He’s pathetic,” Vlad said. He limped over to Janie. “You let him kiss you?”

  “That’s what you paid me for,” Janie said. “You promised me extra if Frank gives you what you want. I earned extra being with the creep.”

  Vlad clapped his hands. “Yes!” Vlad turned to me. “Creep. It means you, Frank. Now talk. The drop. You know where it is. Popov still using it. I want what’s in it now.”

  “Maybe these are something,” she said. “Locker keys.”

  Vlad looked them over. “Yes, I know. But to where? LAX? Union Station? YMCA? Talk, retard.”

  I gulped the espresso. Hot. It burnt my already scalded throat.

  I couldn’t look at Janie as she watched. It was a nightmare moment, something you’d live out painfully in a dream and then wake up so damn happy it wasn’t real.

  I finished the cup. It took forever to go down. I motioned for a second cup. Downed that too. I sucked in air. Pushed it out. Vlad watched me closely. So did Janie.

  I grasped the edge of the chair and feebly started to rise. The Russian from Violet’s stepped in. His right arm rose slowly, poised to smash me back down.

  Suddenly, Vlad looked alarmed. “No! Wait!” Vlad yelled.

  I came to life, slapping the Russian’s gun hand away and nailing him with a left elbow to the side of his head. He fired twice, way wide. My right elbow clocked his temple.

  “Stop him!” Vlad ordered.

  I was behind the Russian now, punching his kidneys. He grunted and twisted away. These Russians were tough. I met him with another elbow and he fell straight back, knocking into Vlad and falling onto Ray.

  “Damn him!” Vlad said, toppling over the bed.

  Ray, bless him, grabbed onto the Russian like a crab.

  I was spent. I could’ve used Janie’s assistance, but she stood back, watching. Did she give me the espresso to help me, I wondered, or just to get me to talk? I never found out. Either way, she let the genie out of the bottle and now she was in over her head.

  The Russian tussled with Ray on the floor. I wasn’t much help. Ground game was where my speed meant the least, and I was seriously fatigued.

  Ray chomped down on the Russian’s gun hand. The Russian screamed, finally dropping the gun. I grabbed it and brought it down on his damn Russian skull.

  The Russian relaxed with a groan, his eyes rolling back into his bony sockets

  Vlad drew a bead on me. I quickly brought the Russian’s gun up. Vlad and I faced each other down.

  Vlad grabbed Janie. He backed out of the room, using her as a shield.

  I knew she’d played me, but I couldn’t bring myself to fire and risk shooting her.

  “Retard,” Vlad said. “Should have killed you.”

  “Dude,” Ray said. “This is some messed up shit.”

  My head swam as I staggered out of the room.

  Outside, Vlad fumbled with his car keys. Another Beamer. He pointed his gun at Janie’s head.

  “I’ll shoot her in the face if you come closer,” Vlad said. He grabbed her hair, pulling her in.

  Janie, a beautiful question mark that punctuates my memory still, slammed her palm into Vlad’s bad leg.

  Vlad cried out in pain as Janie got loose and ran. It was a useless gesture. He pointed his gun at her back. She could only get footsteps away.

  “Bitch,” he seethed.

  And that was it.

  That’s where it ended.

  The frost white GMC Typhoon mowed him down as he stood there in the middle of the street. The SUV with the tiny flashing lights around the license plate. Vlad got caught underneath and was dragged to the end of the block.

  The GMC slowly came at me in reverse, leaving Vlad crumpled up in the middle of the street. I wasn’t sure if Vlad was dead. I kept my eye on him as the SUV pulled even with me. Antoine rolled down the passenger window. The driver was Platinum Mouth from the 35er.

  “Been following,” Antoine said. “I knew Vlad would have to split if Popov got his shit back.” Antoine paused, waiting for me to respond. I left him hanging. “Popov got his shit back?”

  I nodded.

  Antoine thought
about it. Then he looked down the street at Vlad. “He won’t double-cross nobody anymore,” he said.

  He looked at Janie. She stood there, arms folded. He turned back to me.

  “You want a smoke?”

  I took his cigarette. He lit it for me.

  “Tell Popov I want to deal. For real.”

  I dragged deeply. Sunrise was still a couple hours away. The cold of the night hit me for the first time.

  “Look me up if you ever need work,” Antoine said. He held my gaze. Platinum Mouth gunned the engine. They peeled out, running over Vlad once more for good measure.

  I realized Popov would probably deal with Antoine. He’d do what he had to do. He might even take Calendar to Vegas when he got better. Keely Smith was playing at the Desert Inn. Maybe he’d let me tag along. Nothing would change. Except maybe I’d be in the game for real, too.

  And then it was Janie and me across the street from each other. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it right back. I knew I couldn’t talk. I did it just to let her know if I could, I would. I would’ve told her something that would make her forget everything and come back to Ray’s with me. And just like before I’d have a great story for her and she’d be able to look at me like she had and be close to me like she had. And I’d be just a normal guy. No, a better than normal guy. I’d be someone who does exciting things and could show her a world that no one else could. And we’d be there together. Even if it had all been a damn lie, and I was the biggest sucker in the world.

  But the sirens were upon us, and I knew I had to run. I got in my borrowed Benz and drove up the hill behind Ray’s.

  Out of sight, I watched as long as I could. The cops pulled up to Janie. I didn’t want to let go, but I didn’t want to end up in jail either. I couldn’t let it all come out in some interrogation room.

  That was funny. Me getting interrogated.

  I watched until I saw they had a jacket for her.

  I started up and drove away.

  I’d beat sunrise back to apartment. I was drained. I wanted to hit the sack and be out of it for hours and hours. Days on end. I thought about Popov, totally unconscious with a morphine drip. And Ray, out cold in his pillow-cave, r.e.m.’ing like mad. Even Gordo, taking his chance, running like hell. I fought to stay awake, jerking my lids up after they’d slide shut. I was so tired. Dead tired. It would all be worth it when I got back to my pad and fell into bed. No one would bother me until I woke up. No one would come around. I’d just be there. And then it would be nighttime. And then it would be all right.