Three Sides of the Tracks

by Mike Addington

  Slink chuckled. “Okay then, but thanks anyway. I’ll get it back to you.”

  “C’mon, kid. We’re goin’ messing around. C’mon and go with us.”

  “I better stay here and finish the yard, Slink, but I appreciate the offer.”

  “That wasn’t no offer. I said, c’mon, we’re gonna go mess around a little bit. It’s a favor for you helping my unc out the other night.”

  “Leave him alone, Slink. He don’t need to be hanging ‘round your bunch,” Bernard said.

  Slink looked at Danny and motioned with his hand.

  “Oh, it’ll be okay, Bernard. I’ll be back later this afternoon and finish up the grass.”

  Bernard looked at his watch. “It’s afternoon now. We been shootin’ the breeze longer than I thought. Slink, you better not get this boy in trouble now, I’m tellin’ ya’. You hear me?”

  “Damn, Unc, you don’t have no faith in me at all, do you?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  Slink chuckled. “C’mon, kid.”

  Danny followed Slink through the house. The red Barracuda was parked against the curb.

  “Great car, Slink.”

  “Yeah, I kinda like it. What’s your name again?”

  “Danny.”

  Slink walked with Danny to the passenger side and motioned to the man in front. “In back. This guy’s riding up here with me.”

  Red eyes looked up at Slink. Red eyes set in a squared head and face that seemed as if someone had made it piece by piece. The sunken chin under the wide cheeks and strong jaws gave the impression his face stopped at the lips. Eyebrows were almost white, and the skin looked washed out, bleached, the same color as a leather baseball glove a kid bought when he was nine and was still using twenty years later in pickup games. His father was a white man and his mother black. But that didn’t tell the whole story behind his features; at least Danny didn’t think so.

  “This is Whitey,” Slink said and nodded toward Danny. “This here’s Danny.”

  Whitey nodded and held out a hand, big well-developed arm muscles rippling as he did. “How ya’ doing?”

  “Good,” Danny said nervously, not surprised by the strength in Whitey’s hand.

  When Whitey bent over to get in the backseat, Danny saw white initials “WW” on the left back pocket of Whitey’s blue jeans. The first line of the second W interlocked with the last line of the first W and was set a little beneath it. Danny remembered that Whitey’s last name was Whitlock or something like that. He couldn’t stop staring at the bleach job Whitey had used to monogram his blue jeans. Whitey’s artistic ability was further diminished because the bleach had run a couple of inches when applying the last stroke of the first W so that it looked more like a Y in the middle of the monogram instead of a W. Danny finally looked away to keep from laughing.

  “Move your big ass over, Smurf,” Whitey said to one of the biggest men Danny had ever seen.

  Smurf’s bulk covered more than half of the backseat. He was six-feet four-inches tall, and Danny guessed he must weigh close to four hundred pounds, not much of it fat either. Danny knew them both by sight and reputations, which was that little was outside the boundaries of anything one could imagine.

  Danny wished he were five years younger and could just run, run away as fast as he could. Anything to keep from getting in the car with this bunch, but he couldn’t. He’d lost that freedom when he became a man.

  The Barracuda’s engine purred when Slink turned it on, but the purring didn’t disguise its power. Slink touched the gas pedal, and the car raced up the street, tires squealing as he slid out of a curve and headed out of town.

  Danny clenched his teeth to hide his uneasiness.

  “I thought we’d cruise for a while, see what we can get into. Might find some loose chicks running around,” Slick said and lit a cigarette, holding it between his middle finger and ring finger.

  “I guess you don’t have any problem imitating Spock.” Danny said, watching as Slink smoked casually.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  “Real cool. I’d have burned my fingers off.”

  “Damn right you would, Hair Lip,” Smurf said from the backseat.

  The Barracuda slid sideways and smoke filled the air as Slink slammed on the brakes. He jerked the gearshift in park, swiveled in the seat, and smashed the beer bottle against Smurf’s head.

  Smurf threw up his hands but not in time.

  Slink jammed a jagged point of the beer bottle under Smurf’s chin. Blood ran down the side of his head and mixed with that from his chin. He flattened against the seat in an effort to escape Slink’s anger. “What’d I say? Stop it, Slink. What’d I do?”

  “This here guy helped my uncle out the other night. He’s got more balls than any of you, so don’t fuck with him. You hear me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, all right, Slink. Gosh, man, I didn’t know. C’mon now. Put the bottle down, man. Please, man. I’m cool. I won’t mess with him no more.”

  Slink snipped a piece of flesh off with the bottle as he turned back around. “Better watch that big mouth,” he said, glowering at Smurf in the rearview mirror.

  Smurf held his hand to his throat to stop the bleeding, but blood ran between and beneath his fingers. He looked at the floorboard, but there was nothing in the immaculate Barracuda.

  Whitey pulled out a yellowed handkerchief. “You want this?”

  Smurf gave it a dubious look. “Hell no, but don’t guess I have a choice.” He snatched the rag from Whitey’s hand.

  Slink looked at Danny, who was trying to maintain a calm expression.

  “Just exactly what went on at Unc’s? By the time I got there, those damn cops were everywhere, and I hate cops.”

  “Oh, there wasn’t really much to it,” Danny said, downplaying his part. “I was coming home and saw all the flashing lights, so I parked and snuck up to see whether they might be looking for me or what.”

  “Lookin’ for you? Why would they be looking for you?” Slink cut suspicious eyes at Danny, searching for signs of bragging.

  “I’ve been having trouble with one of the big shots in town, and I figured maybe he sicced the cops on me. No big deal. My imagination, I guess. But when I came closer, I saw they were at Bernard’s. I heard them calling with their bullhorns, so I snuck around back and in the kitchen window, and, when I got the chance, took the gun away from Bernard and yelled to the cops they could come in. I was afraid they’d shoot him or me or both of us. I know how they are too.”

  “You got that right. Anyhow, I appreciate you steppin’ up for Unc.”

  As they approached a convenience store, Slink slowed the Barracuda. He scanned the parking lot, including the building roof and tops of poles, looking for security cameras then pulled the car beside the vacuum and air machines.

  Slink stepped out and raised the seat. “Get your ass out and clean up that mess,” he told Smurf, referring to the pieces of glass and beer stains.

  Smurf groaned but didn’t say anything.

  Everyone piled out.

  Slink pulled a large roll of bills from his pocket, a lot more money than Bernard gave him. He slid two twenties from the roll and handed them to Danny. “Go in and get us some beer, snacks, and stuff.”

  “I’m not old enough to buy beer. Besides, it’s Sunday.”

  “Don’t matter. That guy don’t care. He’s Pakistani or something like that. Guess he pays the cops off, whatever.”

  Danny looked skeptical, but there was no harm in trying, plus he didn’t want to look chicken to Slink. He took the twenties and, shortly, came back out grinning and toting two 12-packs of Budweiser shielded from view in paper sacks.

  Smurf’s mass leaned into the car, his blue jeans halfway down his buttocks. The sight snuffed the grin from Danny’s face.

  “What’d I tell you?” Slink said. “Was the old man the only person working?”

  “Yeah, only him, and you were right, he just rang it up.”

  A few customers
had come and gone while Danny bought the beer and Smurf cleaned the car.

  Slink opened the trunk and took out a baseball cap. “Get outta there, Smurf, and come over here.”

  Smurf joined the others at the front of the car.

  “Go in there and amble around a little and pick up a couple of things to buy. Work your way around to the corner that’s on the same side as the cash register. There’s a camera up there you can reach. I want you to take off your cap and put it over the camera. Do it about 3 minutes after you go in. You got that?” Slink asked with a threatening look at Smurf.

  “Yeah, I got it. You gonna tell me what you’re fixin’ to do?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Danny felt a shiver run down his back.

  “Don’t worry about it kid; you won’t be involved in this,” Slink said, noticing a suddenly pale Danny.

  “Whitey, fill that bucket with water. Go on in, Smurf. Don’t screw up, now. Make damn sure that camera’s covered.”

  Smurf pulled his cap low and entered the convenience store, looking up at the clock after he was out of range of the wall camera aimed at the checkout counter. He ambled down the aisles and picked up a large bag of potato chips then headed up the aisle next to the camera. When the owner wasn’t looking, he took off his cap and hung it over the camera, careful that it completely covered the lens.

  “Whitey, if any customers pull up and start to go inside, stop them. Ask them directions to some place or something like that. Distract them till I come out.”

  Whitey knew better than to ask questions, so he just nodded.

  Slink didn’t even look at Danny. He and Whitey stood at the corner of the building.

  The baseball cap pulled low as he could get it, Slink grabbed the bucket and walked to one of the pumps. He unhooked the hose and nozzle from the pump and laid it on the ground, then sloshed water from the bucket to imitate the look of gas running from the nozzle. He tossed the bucket back to Whitey and ran to the convenience store and burst through the door.

  “Your nozzle’s on the ground and spewing gas everywhere,” Slink yelled to the clerk. “Might catch on fire.”

  “What you say? What you say?” the owner said excitedly in broken English.

  “Fire. Fire. Your gas pump is spewing gas. Hurry. Hurry, come see,” Slink yelled.

  The owner rushed from behind the counter and saw the hose lying on the ground then scampered to the gas pumps to turn off the nozzle.

  Slink dove over the counter. He punched the “miscellaneous” button then the “open” button, and the cash drawer slid out. Slink grabbed all but a couple of the twenties and tens then pulled the plastic money tray up. Sure enough, there were several 50 and 100 dollar bills. He grabbed them all, slammed the tray back down and closed the cash register.

  “Put that stuff on the shelf, and, when I get outside, take your cap off the camera and leave. We ain’t waitin’ around,” Slink told Smurf.

  “Get in the car,” he told Danny and Whitey. “Both of you in the backseat. Hurry up.”

  The owner was still dipping his fingers in the water and smelling it. He had already hung the nozzle back up. He directed a customer who drove in to another bank of pumps.

  Slink pulled up to the door just as Smurf came out.

  Smurf plopped down in the front seat, and Slink drove slowly out of the parking lot and turned onto a dirt road a quarter mile away.

  “Hand me a beer, there, Danny boy.”

  Danny handed Slink a cold beer and took one for himself. His throat had been dry ever since Slink told Smurf to cover the camera.

  The Benton city limits were to the right, so Slink turned the Barracuda left when they reached the end of the dirt road.

  Slink chuckled. “I wonder how long it’ll take raghead to figure out he’s been robbed?”

  Danny pressed himself deeper into the seat.

  “Scared?” Slink asked, looking at Danny.

  Danny nodded.

  “If you’d said no, I’d know you were lying. Hell, everybody’s scared the first time. Well, actually, you don’t ever get over being scared; you just get used to it, I guess. Scared is half the fun. Plus havin’ a pocket full of money. Right boys?”

  “Hell, yes,” Smurf said, and Whitey echoed agreement.

  “The Cross Crusaders.” Slink read the sign in front of a middle-sized church a mile or so out of the city limits.

  Slink turned into the large parking lot and parked behind the church, empty now after the morning services. The building hid the car from sight. The closest house was a hundred yards away and set back in a grove of trees. No one should bother them here while they drank a few beers.

  “Looks like a choir’s putting on a show here tonight,” Danny said after reading the sign in front of the church.

  “Cross Crusaders?” What does that mean? That they’re pissed off Crusaders,” Slink said with a smirk, one corner of his mouth lifting in a common expression of his.

  “I hate these gold-diggin’ singing groups. Delude themselves into thinking they can sing when all they really want is some blankin’ attention. Then they push themselves on a bunch of worthless losers like the ones who come to this place. Probably even have the balls to charge the suckers. What a crock,” Slink said.

  “Oh, what a friend I have in . . .” Whitey sang.

  Slink’s head jerked around. “Cut that crap out. I ain’t superstitious or nothin’, but that gives me a creepy feeling.”

  Whitey chuckled, but with an anxious tone, and he chopped it off when Slink frowned at him. Whitey focused on the beer can and turned it up, swallowing the contents without lowering the can.

  Slink pulled the wad of money from the store out of his pocket and began straightening it out. “There’s six of these hundred dollar bills. Let’s see; that’s seven fifties, 17 twenties, and 13 tens. Fourteen hundred and twenty dollars. Ha, I’d say that was worth the stop. How ‘bout you, Danny? You ever made that kind of dough?”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot of money, Slink.”

  “You like it too, don’t you?”

  “I’m scared to death to be honest with you.”

  “Yeah, I can dig that, but you like it too. Come on, now.”

  Danny felt trapped. “I might, once I get over being scared,” he managed to say, trying to be diplomatic. The last thing he wanted was to piss Slink off.

  Slink tossed half of the hundred dollar bills in Danny’s lap.

  “Hey,” Whitey said.

  Slink backhanded him. “Shut up. You guys would be cuttin’ grass if it weren’t for me.”

  “That’s for helping my uncle,” Slink said. “And to help you get over the ‘scared to death.’ ”

  “Oh my gosh. I can’t take all this money, Slink,” Danny said.

  “Oh, quit whinin’, Danny. Hell, you’re just like us. I can see what you’re like. The fast life is in you just like it’s in me. You might’ve even fooled yourself, but you haven’t fooled me. I know about these things. I’m gonna maximize your talent. You won’t have to be a sucker all your life.”

  Slink saw the fear in Danny’s eyes, but he didn’t see the anger. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll bring you along slow. I wouldn’t want you ‘scared to death’ all the time.” Slink laughed loudly, gulped his beer, and cranked the car.

  “Well, let’s get outta here. I’ll drop you off, Danny. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Slink said. He turned, looked Danny in the eye and winked. “ ‘Don’t spend it all in one place’ is absolutely true. Remember that.”

  The Barracuda sped out of the parking lot, but not without Slink giving the sign a final look. “Assholes,” he muttered.

  12

  Church

  The screen door banged behind him. Slink hopped in the car and pulled three ski masks out of a big plastic bag, which had another large bag inside it. He tossed a mask to Whitey then Smurf. “You guys in or out? I’m gonna do that church. With the Cross Crusaders there, should
be a crowd. Out in the country a ways. Take a while for the cops to get there, and we can haul ass down the road a half mile, cut back on the dirt road we came down today and end up on the other side of town. We’ll head north and stay out of town until it all blows over. Shouldn’t be long; there’s always something new to get the cop’s attention.”

  “Damn, Slink,” Smurf said. “We ain’t never done nothin’ this big. Hot dang. Rob a church. I never even heard of anyone doin’ that. Ain’t you scared? I mean you jumped on Whitey just for singin’ a little; now, you want to rob the place.” He paused and chuckled. “Sure shock the hell out of ‘em though. Might be an easy gig, like you said. Could be a big pile of dough too, what with that singin’ group there tonight. I’ll do it. Yeah, I’ll do it. Count me in.”

  “We’re gonna need some guns,” Whitey said.

  “Don’t be a dumb ass, Whitey; you know I got guns.”

  “Well, okay then, but I want the shotgun.”

  Slink smacked his lips in disgust at Whitey’s attempt to use the situation as a bargaining tool, but didn’t bother telling Whitey what he wouldn’t understand anyway. “Whitey gets the shotgun. Whitey better be damn careful with it too.” Slink glared at Whitey till he dropped his eyes.

  * * *

  The Barracuda passed the church at a crawl. The parking lot was full. Overflow full. Cars parked on the grass alongside the lot as well as the road beside the church.

  “They’ll take up the collection before those morons start singing,” Slink said. “It’s six on the dot now. As soon as those two smokers go in, we’ll ease up to the door. The ushers might bring the plates to the foyer or might meet at the back then march back up front and hand the dough to the preacher. Be easier if they come to the foyer, but it don’t matter none. Not really. They ain’t stupid enough to rush no shotgun and rifle.” Slink grinned with one side of his mouth. “If they do, the rifle and shotgun gonna make some mighty big holes. This .45 too for that matter,” he said patting the ivory-handled .45 pistol in his waistband.