Blood Red Turns Dollar Green Volume 3

by Paul O'Brien

  “When will the time be right?”

  Ade took out a beautiful cigarette box, opened it, and offered Lenny a smoke; he declined. She took one for herself, tapped the end of it on the box, put it between her ruby red lips, and lit it.

  “So, you’ve been out for a day, or two,” she said. “You’ve been to Babu’s place, slept in a bus shelter, and visited your father. Now you’re here. And you’re still not dead. What does that tell you?”

  “That you’ve been following me?”

  Ade laughed. “Well, not me, personally.”

  “I don’t know. What does it tell me?” Lenny asked.

  “That you’re safe enough. If I can find you, then these guys can find you. You’re going to be fine.”

  She took a big pull from her cigarette. “Most people in your situation would have gotten drunk, and fucked a couple of whores, or something. I admire that about you. Who’s in here, your mother?”

  Lenny nodded.

  Ade blessed herself. “Lord rest her soul.”

  Lenny stood, and extended his hand.

  “Are you in a rush?” she asked.

  “I told Ricky that I’d wait until I heard what he had to say... no offense to you. The way I picked it up, though, was that he is the one you have the deal with. Now, if he says that you’re the one who I hand it all over to, then I’d be happy to do that, for the right price.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  Lenny felt like being honest. “I have no love for this business anymore, Mrs.—”

  “Just Ade.”

  “Ade. It has taken everything good from my life. I’m counting the short hours to when it’s over, and I make some money. Then, I’m moving on.”

  Lenny nodded and smiled before he turned away and went for his car.

  “It’s going to take years,” she said.

  Lenny stopped, and she continued, “To get this territory healthy, again, and to get it making real money. It’s going to take years.”

  He turned around.

  “I’m just saying it, because I get the impression that you’re aiming for something quick,” Ade said. She stood on her cigarette butt, and walked toward him. “You’ve seen it yourself, Lenny. Even when you have the pick of the litter, it takes time to build stars, it takes time to build towns to see those stars, and it takes time for your TV to reflect that. And that’s with all the other bosses on your side.” Ade picked a pretend hair from Lenny’s shoulder. “Do you think your TV is going to hold your time slot if you don’t produce something? How about the venue owners? What about the granddaddy of them all, the Garden? How long do you think they’re going to remain exclusive to you guys if you don’t have matches to go in there every month?”

  Lenny nodded as he deciphered everything that Ade had to say.

  “So, where is Ricky? Where is he, and how long are you prepared to wait, until that contract you have is worth nothing?”

  “I appreciate your time,” Lenny said.

  “And now you’re blacklisted, and you don’t even have any wrestlers,” she said. “You need to act, Lenny.”

  “I’ll talk to Ricky,” Lenny said.

  Ade handed over her business card. “I want to do business, but I don’t want to do business with a corpse territory. Give me a call tomorrow, and let me know of your plans.”

  Lenny watched as Ade got into her car, and left the parking lot.

  She was right, and Lenny knew it.

  This music was different. It was more direct, and started with a bang that never stopped. Lenny was rocking-the-fuck out to Dancing in the Dark, in his father’s car, cruising along 47th Avenue. He didn’t know all of the words, but that chorus—he could roar that chorus with the best of them.

  He beat the steering wheel in time with the drums, and tried to not look like an absolute mental patient when another car was driving close by. Other than that, Lenny was on stage, and the world was singing along with him.

  Music was a great release, and a happy tool to help him forget—until he felt a movement behind his seat.

  Lenny froze. He thought he’d heard something earlier, but had put it down to a squeaky chassis, or something. This, though faint, was undeniable: someone was hiding on the floor in the back of the car.

  His first thought was to swerve the car into traffic; his second thought was a little less insane.

  He turned down the radio. “Who’s there?”

  Lenny figured that, whoever it was, if they wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now.

  There was no response.

  He wondered for a second if he was losing his mind. “Hello?” There was nothing. “I’m going to count to three, and then we’re both going head-first into that bus!” Lenny shouted.

  “I’m sorry,” came the voice from the back.

  Lenny knew the voice. “Jimmy?”

  Lenny’s youngest son appeared in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m sorry,” Jimmy said, again.

  Lenny was at first relieved, but he soon became very angry. He turned right on 29th Street, and parked the car under the huge, abandoned factory.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lenny asked.

  He got out of his seat, went around the back, and pulled Jimmy out of the car.

  His son was instantly ready to go: he put up his hands, and was prepared to fight. He looked like he was terrified, but his fists were so tight that his knuckles were white.

  “What are you doing?” Lenny asked a bit more calmly.

  Seeing Jimmy so frightened quickly brought Lenny back to civility. Jimmy didn’t answer; he was shaking a little, but he hadn’t dropped his guard.

  “Jimmy?”

  Lenny tried to sooth him, but his boy unloaded with his best right hand, which missed by a mile. He then turned, and ran into traffic.

  “Jimmy!” Lenny shouted, as he took after him.

  “Leave me alone!” Jimmy yelled, as he tried to make it to the end of the block.

  Lenny cut Jimmy off at the pass, and immediately, the boy tried to bite, scratch, and punch Lenny. He was wild—almost uncontrollable.

  “I’ll kill you!” the kid screamed over and over again.

  “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Lenny whispered into his ear.

  He had his son wrapped tightly enough to protect him. Lenny had no idea what was going on, but Jimmy was terrified, and he was fighting for his life. People were beginning to stare as they walked by. Lenny just sat on the edge of the sidewalk, and held his shaking son.

  “I’m sorry,” Lenny said.

  “You scared me,” Jimmy replied.

  “I’m sorry. It’s the car. You were in the back of the car before, and I didn’t know...” Lenny had never said the sentence before. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know you were there.” He began to sob. “I should have known you were in trouble. I’m sorry. I should have protected you and your brother.”

  Jimmy watched his father cry. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  His son’s kind words only made Lenny sob harder. He released his grasp on Jimmy, and hid his face in his hands.

  “I was only in the car today, because I thought you were leaving. I don’t want you to go. I get bullied a lot. It’s hard, sometimes, when you don’t have a daddy,” Jimmy said.

  Jimmy’s eyes filled, too, but he didn’t cry. He lifted his shirt, and showed Lenny the yellow bruising on his ribcage and back.

  “What happened?” Lenny asked.

  “That pizza place we went to the other day? The guy behind the counter owns it. He beat me last weekend, when I was down here. He said I robbed something off his son.”

  “That fuck-face.”

  “I brought you in there to beat him up, but I didn’t know you enough to ask you, then.”

  “As God is my witness, Jimmy, we’re going to get him back for hitting you. Do you hear me?” Lenny knocked his head gently off of his boy’s. “You don’t know how much it hurts me that I wasn’t there for you, son.”

  “
Does that mean you’ll come home with me?” Jimmy asked.

  Lenny laughed, and wiped his eyes. “You know crying is for girls, right?”

  “You must be a big girl then,” Jimmy said as he stood up.

  “And you must be nearly a girl.”

  “Let’s go buy you a dress with flowers on it,” Jimmy said.

  Lenny put his arm around his boy’s shoulder. He felt like he’d made some real connection with his youngest, but his oldest was still up for grabs.

  Babu lay in his darkened bedroom. It wasn’t particularly late, and the noise of the keys in the tray by the door let him know that there was nothing to worry about. He heard his wife’s footsteps, as she walked directly to the room. She knew where he was.

  “Hey, honey,” she said, as she opened the door and tried to let as little light from the hallway in as possible.

  She leaned in, and gave her huge husband a kiss on his clammy forehead.

  “You’re not doing so well?” she asked.

  Babu’s tired eyes watched her as she kicked off her shoes, took off her earrings, and unclipped her bra under her blouse, and let it slip to the floor. She got in the bed on the little piece of mattress that was left beside Babu, and snuggled.

  She was a slight woman, and she was short, too. She had nothing to do with the wrestling business, and didn’t want anything to do with it, either. He had met her on a break in Hawaii, where she’d worked the bar. Babu had spent three weeks sitting in front of her.

  She had smiled a beautiful smile, looked tanned and relaxed, and happy with life. He went there to die, though—at least he had thought. Doctors had been telling him for years that it was only a matter of time before his body gave out on him.

  He lay there in pain, and wished that this night was the night his body did give up. He was tired, constantly sore, and not half of what he used to be. He wasn’t half as happy, or half as spry. He found it hard to complain, though, because the closer he got to dying, the more he felt loved and wanted.

  “I’m sore,” he whispered.

  She began to rub his chest, and massage his huge fingers. She was used to this, and he was used to having her look after him. He was huge, and she wasn’t; he was in the wrestling business, and she wasn’t. He was dying, and she wasn’t.

  “Is it your back?” she asked.

  He could only nod.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m feeling better, now.”

  She knew that he wasn’t feeling better. Ava wanted to cry for how hard he tried to protect her from anything bad.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I get you anything?” She sat up a little.

  “Can you wait just a little longer?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  His massive hand guided her head gently back onto his chest. “Where does a politician go to check out books?” he asked.

  She smiled—it was joke time. “I don’t know.”

  “The lie-brary. Get it?”

  Her head jolted up and down as his chest rose and fell with silent laughter.

  “What’s President Reagan’s favorite pick-up line?” Babu couldn’t see it, but she was crying, now. It was such a shame; he was such a big, strong man.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “What is Ronald Reagan’s favorite pick-up line?”

  “‘Hello, do I come here often?’”

  She laughed at that one; it was good. The more she laughed, the more he laughed.

  “I want to go here, when it’s my time,” Babu said.

  “Like this?”

  “Just like this.”

  Ava squeezed her husband. His talk wasn’t dramatic, or over-the-top; it was practical, and that’s what made it all the more heartbreaking.

  “You promise?” she asked.

  “Promise,” he replied.

  He lay in their oversized bed, tired and sore, with Ava. They were both in pain, just different kinds.

  Lenny didn’t have any money to treat Jimmy, but that didn’t mean that Jimmy couldn’t treat them both. Babu’s ten-dollar gift bought new sunglasses for their faces, and sugary candy bars for their mouths. Jimmy felt cool as ice as he sat crammed in the driver’s seat between his father’s legs, as they cruised slowly through the neighborhood.

  “Left a little,” Lenny said. “The key here is not to park the car on anyone’s back or head.”

  “Roger,” Jimmy said.

  “A tap more of the gas, and keep it left, here.”

  “Over and out.”

  Lenny leaned forward, and checked out both sides for any signs of danger.

  “How are we doing?” Jimmy asked.

  “Coming up to Granddad’s place, soon. Maybe you should pull in, and let me take over.”

  Lenny took a quick peek in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t believe his luck. “Oh, fuck,” he said.

  Jimmy wobbled the car with the fright. “What?”

  “My parole officer is behind us,” Lenny said. “What the fuck?”

  Jimmy started to panic, a little. His driving became more erratic. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t think he... can you slip over, if I take a sharp right here?” Lenny asked.

  “What?”

  Lenny didn’t have time to repeat himself. He pulled down hard on the steering wheel, and pushed down on the gas, taking the car on a tight right turn.

  “Now jump over,” Lenny said.

  Jimmy slid into his place under the height of the dashboard; Lenny looked behind him, again, but there was no one there. He put his foot down, and took the next left which put them behind the parole officer’s car.

  Lenny watched as Tad nearly dislocated his own neck by looking into Edgar’s house as he freewheeled by.

  “What’s he looking for?” Jimmy asked.

  “Nothing, son,” Lenny said.

  Lenny parked, and wondered, just as his son did, what the parole officer was looking for.

  Edgar stood in his tiny front garden, in his dirt-stained white shirt. He watched as his son and grandson came walking down the street in unison. They had a matching walk, and matching sunglasses.

  He would have been ecstatic, if he wasn’t plagued with the feeling that Lenny was bound to fuck it up, again.

  “Lenny?” whispered Donta. “Lenny?”

  Lenny awoke suddenly to find a gloved hand over his mouth, and a huge shiny hunting knife an inch from his eyeball.

  “Joe wants to have a talk. Are you free?”

  Donta grabbed Lenny’s ear, and pulled him out of his bed. “Now, there are two others in this house. Do you want to make it out of here without me having to kill either one?”

  Lenny nodded.

  “Good,” said Donta. “Let’s go.”

  Lenny walked into his father’s hallway, and Donta followed behind, with the knife to Lenny’s spine.

  “Drop the fucking knife,” Edgar said from behind.

  Donta turned Lenny first, and used him as a shield. Both men saw Edgar standing outside his bedroom door with a double barrel shotgun pointed in Donta’s direction.

  “Pop, please...” Lenny said.

  “He’ll be back in a couple of hours, old man,” Donta said. “Now, put your gun down before I get all nervous, and gut your son like a fish.”

  “Pop, do what he says,” Lenny said. “I’ll be okay.”

  Donta kept enough of himself hidden behind Lenny that if Edgar pulled the trigger, the spread of pellets would tear his son to bits.

  “Do it,” Donta said to Edgar.

  The middle bedroom door opened, and out walked Jimmy, right between them all. He was still more or less asleep, and had no idea what was going on. Edgar quickly put the gun down.

  “What’s happening?” Jimmy asked, wiping his eyes.

  “I’m just going out for an hour, son,” Lenny said. “I’ll be back for breakfast.

  Jimmy went to h
is father, and hugged him. “Okay.”

  He quickly tried to wrestle Donta away from his father; he wasn’t as sleepy as he pretended to be. Jimmy was fearless. “Shoot him, Grandad,” Jimmy shouted. “One in the head!”

  Donta easily threw the boy into the wall, which caused Lenny to struggle. Donta slid his knife across the skin of Lenny’s throat, and used his free hand to grab his nose.

  “I will rip his face open, and then his throat. I will do it here in your hallway, if you don’t stop your advancement.”

  Edgar stopped. Jimmy looked on, holding his head, but the boy looked more angry than scared.

  Donta backed through the house, moving Lenny with him. As soon as they got out of earshot, Lenny said to Donta, “If you touch anyone in my family ever again, I will kill you.”

  Donta laughed a little before marching backward through the front door.

  “How the fuck would you even know how to treat a gem like that?” Joe said, as he pointed to Manhattan. “Just look at it! Look: the greatest fucking city in the world, and you think that you can have it?”

  Joe grabbed Lenny by the throat. “I can’t even remember the last time I grabbed another man by the throat. God in heaven, help me, Lenny, I will fucking cut your head off, and dump you in the river, if I have to.”

  “We both know that you’re not going to kill me, Joe.”

  He punched Lenny in the face. “Just give it up. I spent ten years putting this territory back together. I bought a place, and got to know the right people here. I nurtured New York back to her knees, when all the other barbarians couldn’t give a fuck about her. I put in the time, and I put in the money. Someone like you isn’t going to stop someone like me from getting what I deserve, in the end.”

  “Neither of us deserves it.”

  “But one of us will end up with it. You have nothing left to barter with; you don’t even own a wrestling ring. Your company has no assets, no workers, and no TV show to submit to your station.”

  Joe looked back over the river at the city, all lit up. “You know the difference between me and those other fucking apes that came before me? I always knew that there was a way to kill people off without blood or bodies... or attention.”