Out of all the boys at Daddy’s Boys Bar, Gerry was the only one known to have been picked up by the aging action actor who owned the mansion the thief was standing in front. He had already scaled the stone wall around the property. Getting inside wouldn’t be that difficult. He had the security codes from having secretly visited the mansion and having fucked to old man while he was wearing panties and bra. The image brought a smile to the thief’s face. If the actor’s millions of fans had seen me strutting around the bedroom wearing black panties and black bra like Frank N Furter in Rocky Horror Show they wouldn’t be buying tickets to his movies.
If I am every arrested, I’ll tell the world all these rich old men’s secrets.
The thought pleased the thief as he opened the door and quickly punched in the security codes. The alarm beeping stopped. In like Flint. What he didn’t like was having to go up to the second floor. The painting he wanted was hanging in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. The actor had told him he would be out of town on location for a movie he was shooting. That the old man could still play leads in actions movies amazed the thief. If only the movies goers could see his naked saggy body they would wonder how he could even walk much less beat up bad guys.
The stairs squeak! The thief stopped half way up them. He hated noisy stairs. The sound reminded him of when he was a young boy and his father would come home late at night drunk. The stairs always squeaked a warning before his father would barge in and drag him out of bed and make him go down to the kitchen and make him a sandwich while he flop down in an EZ chair in his bedroom watching the Jonny Carson Show. And his mother never said a word to him. Stop it! There’s no one home. It doesn’t matter if the stairs squeak or not, he thought as he climbed the remaining stairs to the second floor.
He had the crayon sketches to leave in place of the painting he was stealing. The painting was actually one of Gerry’s that used to hang in Matilda’s gallery that used to show his painting. She had removed his unsold painting when he had been taken to the police station for questions for stealing Dan’s ring. That had been a delicious moment for the thief when he had heard the details of Gerry getting taken out of the gallery in handcuffs.
He stopped in front of the abstract painting. He liked it better than Gerry’s sketches even though the painting didn’t make any sense to him but then abstracts weren’t meant to make sense. He liked the colors. The thief was lifting the painting off the wall when he suddenly caught movement from his right side. He glanced around to see the aging actor running toward him like he was thirty-five and in an action flick again.
The thief danced out of man’s way like a bull fighter from a charging bull. But the old man, still muscular and quick for his age, reached out and slapped the thief on the side of the head hard enough to addle him and cause him to stumble. He regained his balance just as the actor charged him again. This time he moved to the side quick enough to avoid the flailing arm of the old man.
Enough of his, the thief thought as he sprinted for the stairs.
“Hell, no you don’t you son-of-a-bitch. You’re not getting away from me,” the man yelled.
The thief could hear the man’s naked feet slapping the oak planks of floor as he gave chase. Reaching the stairs first, the thief grabbed the railing and rushed down the stairs with his feet moving as quick a football player’s feet stepping through car tires during football practice.
“Fuck!” the action actor suddenly yelled.
Hearing a crashing sound, the thief glanced over his shoulder to see the aging actor rolling down the stairs screaming as he rolled. When the man came to a stop half way to where the thief stood, he grabbed his leg and continued to scream.
Damn he wasn’t supposed to be here, the thief thought as he continued down the stars and raced out of the mansion. He didn’t stop running until he was over the wall and on his bike. Fuck, I didn’t even get the Gerry’s painting! I was going to burn the fucker!
Chapter 13
The loud banging on the door of his apartment startled Gerry causing his hand to jerk. Suddenly the face of the young boy he was sketching had a smile that run off his face and on to the blank canvas.
“Okay, I’m coming. Don’t knock the door down!” Gerry said as he stood up. He glanced down at his jockey shorts and shook his head. Grabbing his jeans, he quickly slipped them on hobbling toward the door before he had them pulled all the way up. He buttoned and zipped them as he opened the door.
“Laurel and Hardy!”
“Still with the jokes, Kid. Well I don’t think you are going to be joking for long,” Dennis, tall detective, said barging in even before the door was completely open. “Gerry Blunt, you are under arrest . . .”
Gerry tuned out the rest of the words as he glanced around his apartment. His eyes moved from his sketches to the abstract painting. They are my true friends, he thought as he felt Tony the fat detective pulled his hands behind his back and clamp handcuffs on his wrists.
He was surprised to see uniformed police standing in the hall outside.
“All these officers just to arrest like old me? I am flattered.”
“Search the place, Office Mendez. Tear the place apart,” Dennis said waving Mendez and the two other offices with him forward.
“Be careful with my sketches!” Gerry said as he turned his head back to see the officers rushing through the door.
“You mean like this, Kid,” Mendez said as he kicked his foot through the canvas that Gerry had been working on. “Oh, sorry, my foot slipped. I’ll be more careful with the rests of your perverted paintings.”
“Sketches, asshole, sketches,” Gerry said as Tony shoved him down that hall.
“Mendez loves Chuck Thomas movies. You are going to regret breaking into his house!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I haven’t broken into anyone house!”
“Tony! Wait until we are at the station. Fuck you already said the vic’s name,” Dennis said catching up with them. “Get a grip man. I know you are a big fan of Chuck’s.”
“Yeah, Laurel, listen to Hardy,” Gerry teased even though he knew better than to rile the two detectives.
Tony turned sideways and swept his left leg around knocking both of Gerry’s leg out from under him causing him to fall face down.
“Oops. Sorry that was real clumsy of me. Hope you aren’t hurt, Mr. Blunt,” Tony said reaching down and jerking Gerry to his feet.
“You are strong for a fat man,” Gerry said as he slid into his tough prison persona that had kept most of predators at bay while he was locked away for four years.
“Tony!” Dennis called, “Cool it!”
Several people were standing outside of the small apartment building when Tony pulled Gerry out the gate.
“Is this the man that broke into Chuck’s house?” an older woman called out. “Shame on you, you hoodlum. I hope you rot in jail.”
“See what happens when you mess with a screen idol?” Tony said. “If I let them have their way there wouldn’t be enough of you to take to the station,” he said as he put his hand on top of Gerry’s head and bend it down as he shoved him in the back seat of the car.
The ride to the station was a blur in Gerry’s mind as he considered that this time he was probably going back to prison to serve out the rest of his time. The thought threatened to shatter him if he dwelled on the prospect too long. Instead he retreated behind his prison persona and stared at the back of Tony’s head.
I’ve been in here before,” Tony thought as Tony placed him in a chair and locked the handcuffs onto a clamp on top of the metal table. Don’t say anything.
Tony banged his fist on the metal table. “This time we have you!”
Gerry stared into the fat man’s eyes but didn’t respond.
“You want to tell us what went wrong with the break in?” Dennis asked. “Did you get sloppy? Didn’t do your homework?”
Gerry crooked his finger at Tony. The big man moved nearer to the table. “Lawyer,” Gerry whispered.<
br />
“You piece of shit . . .”
“Tony!” Dennis snapped and lifted his chin toward to mirror.
“You are very lucky it’s not just me and you in the room.” Tony said.
Gerry shook his head slowly. “No, my overweight friend. It is you who is the lucky one. Or haven’t you read my file. Maybe you missed the part about me being to junior golden glove champion of Alabama?”
“Tony!” Dennis said putting his hand on his partner’s shoulder.
“Now, you two clowns run along and get me a lawyer!” Gerry said but he glanced at the mirror as he spoke. “And this is the final time I’m going to ask for legal consul.”
Dennis taped his partner on the shoulder “Come on Tony.”
Tony glared at Gerry and for a moment, he thought the big man was going to attack him. “Come on, Tony,” Dennis repeated.
“That went well!” a neatly dressed man with a thin mustache greeted them in the hallway outside of the interrogation room. “Maybe I should show the video to new detectives on how NOT to interrogate a suspect! The boy is fucking right you two are as funny as Laurel and Hardy!”
“But, Captain, he broke the leg of Chuck Thomas! Chuck Thomas!”
The neatly dressed man just shook his head. “God, why me.” He turned and walked away only to stop after a few steps. “And get him appointed a lawyer!”
“Fuck!” Tony said.
“You shouldn’t have lost it, Tony.”
“But it was Chuck Thomas!” Tony said making a chopping motion with his hands in front of himself. “Chuck Thomas.”
“I’m Jose Torres,” the Latino in the ill-fitting suit said as he walked into the interrogation room thirty minutes later. “I’ll be representing you.”
“I guess I’m in good hands like with All State, right,” Gerry said noticing the spots of taco sauce on the man’s white shirt.
“The best the public can buy with what little they pay me,” Jose said.
“I didn’t . . .”
Jose held up his hand. “Look I really don’t care if you are innocent or guilty. It’s a moot point.”
“Gee that should inspire me with confidence, consular.”
“And that doesn’t matter either,” Jose said as Tony and Dennis entered the room.
“Are you two butt buddies already,” Tony asked.
“Tony,” Dennis said wearily.
“My client is ready to answer any questions that doesn’t incriminate him,” Jose said ignoring Tony’s remark.
“Where were you last night?” Tony asked glaring at Gerry like a pit bull ready to be released for a fight.
“At Daddy’s Boys playing in a pool tournament,” Gerry answered.
“And after that?” Tony snapped.
“I’m not sure. I was drunk. I don’t remember leaving.”
“Do you know Chuck Thomas?”
“Yes, I’ve met him. . .”
“Have you been inside his house?” Tony interrupted to aske.
“Yes, once.”
“Why?”
“Milk and cookies.”
Tony slammed his hand on the table.
“Detective Blaze. You will reframe from threatening jesters toward my client immediately!” Jose said sounding bored, as though he had been though the same routine a thousand times.
“I asked you why were you in his house?” Tony asked. “Why would a fine man like Chuck Thomas have a pervert like you in his house. What kind of con were your running?”
“He bakes very good oak meal cookies,” Gerry replied smiling. “I asked him for his recipe but he said it was a family secret.”
“You fucking asshole!” Tony said.
“If you can’t control Detective Blaze, ask him to leave the room,” Jose said as he glanced over at Dennis. “I’m on the verge of filling harassment charges. And I don’t think it would be the first such charges filed against your partner.”
“Ah, Laurel, you and Hardy might as well leave, I not saying another word. Charge me or release me.” Gerry said.
“Okay, you heard my client. The interview is finished,” Jose said as he stood up. “Please transfer my client to a holding cell.”
As the holding cell door slammed shut behind him, Gerry eyed the five occupants as he moved over and stood against the wall. The two Latino were going to be trouble and soon. He had seen the look they were giving him often enough in prison to know that they were eager to show their dominance.
He figured that Tony had put him in this very cell hoping he would get his ass kicked. We’ll see, he thought as he slid down into a sitting positon. He had no more than set down when one of the Latino, he one with the most tats walked toward him stopping about five feet from where Gerry set on the floor.
“Your Reebok’s look my size, dud. And they look new. Take them off and let me try them on. I want to look like a tennis star. Like that Raphael guy that’s kicking all you white duds asses on the court. Take them off!”
Gerry nodded his head as he unlaced both shoes and slipped them off. Then he removed his socks.
“Hell, you can keep your stinking socks.”
Gerry ignored the man as he finished removing his socks. Then he put the socks over his hands and pulled the tops back so they were doubled over his knuckles. He made a fist as he got up.
“What’s that far, asshole. Your hands cold?”
“No, it to keep from busting my knuckles when I bust you and your gang banger friend’s face up.”
“Hey, did you hear the pretty boy he’s going to bust us up bro,” the man said turning back to look at his friend. He shook his head. “No, don’t bother. I’ll take care of him de hombre a hombre”
“Just don’t kill him, Vic. Just don’t kill him,” the other gang banger called out.
“There no sense in fighting over a pair of shoes,” a big black guy said from the far corner.
“You want some next big guy?” the gang banger still standing at the other side of the cell asked. “If you do just keep running your mouth. When Vic bloodies white cake he can whip some chocolate cake too.”
The black man held up his hands. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“I didn’t think you did,” Vic said as he took a step toward Gerry.
“You don’t have to do this. Or do you? Did Laurel and Hardy asks you to gang bangers to work me over?”
“Who?”
“The two detective that brought me here. Detective Moor and Blaze.”
“Maybe they did and maybe they didn’t. I’m going to have . . .”
Like a ballet dancer, Gerry stepped in and throw a stiff left jab. The moment his sock covered knuckles hit Vic’s nose it started spraying blood.
“You son-of-a-bitch I’m . . .”
Gerry jabbed his bleeding nose again knocking Vic head violently back.
“Vic, you need help?” his friend called out taking a step toward them.
“Hell, no. He hits like a girl . . .”
A smile flashed across Gerry face as he doubled jabbed Vic in the nose then stepped in and delivered a right cross to the gang banger’s chin.
Vic’s legs gave way. He dropped limp to the cement floor with a thud and didn’t move.
Gerry glanced as the other gang banger. “Do you need a pair of shoes too?”
“No man. I’m good. I’m good,” he said as he hurried over to Vic and lifted his head. “Vic, Vic are you okay?”
The gang banger opened his eyes. “What happen?”
The middle age man in a business suit what hadn’t spoken before said. “Hell, you get got KO’d amigo.”
Chapter 14
They held me for as long as they could out of pure spite, Gerry thought as he got out of the cab at his small apartment complex.
“Gerry!” Mr. Chantou, the owner of the motel turned apartment complex, called out as Gerry walked around the tiny kidney shaped swimming pool. “You are a month late with the rent! I can’t keep carrying you. You must pay or I evict you,” the little
Cambodian said with a bow. “I no like but must do.”
“I’m playing in a pool tournament tonight. I pay the rent tomorrow, promise,” Gerry said smiling at the little man as he hurried past him. “Promise,” he called over his shoulder.
As he entered his apartment a look of shock distorted his face. The floor was littered with his sketches and paintings. Some had been purposely trampled until they were ruined. He steeled himself from the on rush of emotions that swept over him and started straightening up the room.
When he had the one room apartment back to a resemblance of order, he lifted his arm and sniffed his arm pit. “Damn, I need two showers to get clean,” he mumbled as he stripped. He ran his hand over his stomach. He hadn’t been ripped when he went into prison but with nothing to do except sketch when he could get the canvas, he had worked out with free weight daily until he had six pack abs that were the envy of the yard. He had keep up the exercise although not with weights.
“All I can say is I better win tonight,” Gerry mumbled as he walked into the shower. He planned to get to the bar early to practice just to make sure he was sharp for the tournament. He wasn’t usually nervous about winning but since getting drunk and losing to the L.A. guy he was just a bit apprehensive.
The parking lot of Daddy’s Boys was empty except for Bucky’s yellow Volvo and a couple of local alcoholics’cars that live nearby and drank at the bar during the day while they chatted with Bucky. Good, I’ve have the pool table all to myself, Gerry thought as he nodded to the security guy who was just coming on duty. “Hi, Ricky.”
The big muscular man didn’t respond.
What’s with him!
Gerry stepped inside. As the parking lot had foretold the bar was empty except for Bucky and the two old alcoholics, Ray and Bud.
“Hi, guys,” Gerry said as he walked past the two men who always camped out at the end of the bar nearest the door. “How is it hanging.”
“Bucky, long time no see, amigo,” Gerry said as he took a stole across from the pool table.
“You can’t come in here!” Bucky said standing with his arms founded in front of him. “I don’t want you in the bar anymore.”
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