Looking For Trouble
a short story
These legal wrangling take forever, y’know. Or maybe you don’t. Well anyway, they do. I mean, you can spend literally months in county waiting for them to sort this shit out; even just to get a court date. So after all that, now I’m waiting on sentencing. Like who gives a shit, the public defender, who was a really decent guy by the way, got ‘em to charge me as a minor, so it don’t mean jack. I mean, what’re they gonna do to me, right? Probably get a shot at boot camp, which is like ninety days of hell, and then they let you go. Man, compare that to ten years in the big house. Yeah, well… So it’s all cool. Then the assistant DA comes to see me.
What the fuck’s he want. They take me down to this little office where you go to talk. Him and this other guy in their fucking fancy suits. Sitting there on the edge of the table, one leg crossed over the other. Can’t help but see his shoes are worth more’n I am. Me sitting there in front of them in the chair with cuffs on. He smiles at me, hands me a cigarette like he can read my mind. Like this is all a big game to him, serious as hell, but a game nonetheless.
“You got anything for me” he asks. “Like what?” “Election year, Mikey, that’s what.” “So?” “So every four years, citizens wanna know what we’re doing to clean up the streets, keep ‘em safe. That’s how people get elected.” “Yeah, well I aint runnin for no public office.” “That’s true” he says “but the people who are… are looking to bust some heads. Looking for information, leads, names, that sorta thing.” “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Everybody knows something. And right now, everybody’s singing to save their ass.” He lights up a cigarette. Not smiling anymore. “We got Jimmy Dee’s in ISO. You probably didn’t know that.”
Yeah well y’hear a lotta stuff. But I hadn’t heard that. Jimmy Dee’s is one of Lantro’s boys. I don’t know him, but I’ve heard the name, and I know where this is headed. Sends a cold shiver down my spine. Like the barrel of a .45 stuck against your forehead.
He takes a drag off the cigarette, goes on. “Jimmy’s staring at death row. About all he can look for, is to keep feeding us. So we got a reason to keep him alive.” “I don’t know the guy” I tell him “never met him.” “Yeah? Well what about that Malone boy, who was murdered, beaten to death. He says that was you.” “Jesus Christ, I tried to save his ass. They damn near killed me too.” “Who did” he says.
I look at his face, stone cold, like I’m nothing, less than an insect to him. Step on me and squash me anytime he feels like. I don’t know what to say, gotta stall, try to think this out. “You want me dead?” “I don’t care” he says. “Yeah, well I do.” He lights up another cigarette, hands it to me. “With all these convicts singing, everybody spilling their guts, ratting out everyone they ever heard of…you could be here for awhile.” “How’s that?”
“It’s a pretty simple process.” Looks me in the eye, doesn’t blink, like a stone wall and no way around it. “You play ball, maybe find yourself in boot camp. Or...with all these accusations flying around, we might have to bring charges. You gonna be eighteen pretty soon, right?” “Three weeks” I tell him. He smiles. “So…got anything for me?”
Running all this stuff through my head, still haven’t come up with anything. Like you’re stuck in a vise, and thinkin’s not gonna help much. “Could I…talk with my lawyer?” “When I walk out that door” he says “I was never here, and this conversation never took place. You got one shot. And I got a lotta other convicts to see.” “So whatta you want?” “Lannie Trophers” he says, without blinking an eye. Then he shakes his head. “That guy… ‘causing a lot a headaches, on the street.” “Yeah… okay.”
Back in my cell, almost lunch time. Don’t feel like seeing anybody’s face in the chow hall. Like you can tell by looking at me, that I just poured out my guts to the DA. Anybody and everybody, make shit up if you have to. Just keep talking. Every rumor you ever heard, every little scrap of information that’s maybe got some truth to it, or at least sounds like it. I suppose he’s heard it all before, a million times. And maybe some of it he can piece together from other stories he’s heard. Shit, that’s what I’m doing, and no doubt he knows that too.
Tell the guard I’m sick. Can’t make it to chow, or anything else. Just stay in my cell. He smiles, like that’s how they all look when they go talk to the DA. Shit, let him laugh, nothing I can do about it. And that’s the least of my worries. Told the assistant DA how we can set up a buy. Take ‘em straight to Lantro, slap the cuffs on. And it’s all bullshit. But what can you do. Figure my only shot is to make a break for it, once we’re outside.
Lie down on my bunk. Try to figure out how all this shit happened, like a ton a bricks just fell on you outta the blue. Carrot and the stick, keeps running through my head. Coulda charged me with a buncha shit, but they let me plead down, to almost nothing. Burglary, sounds a lot better’n armed robbery. Maybe they couldn’t a proved it anyway, but who knows. Somebody picks you out of a line up, and you’re fucked. Who’s the jury gonna believe, them or me. Shit.
And it was all gonna be so good. Ninety days in boot camp. Toughen up, play by the rules. Go home free. Shit, maybe even get your GED while you’re there. And now this shit. Go back to trial, as an adult. And all this ‘new fucking evidence.’ Wow, how does this happen, like the walls closin in on you. Get the feeling that crime doesn’t pay. Not for a small-timer like me, anyway. Like you’re just somebody’s pawn, waiting to get played.
Coulda told ‘em the truth about Dougie Malone, not that anybody’d care. Dumb bastard, too stupid to be alive anyway. Rips off some crack dealers, punk kids with pocketfuls of money. Wants to be in our gang. Aint no fucking gang anyway, just me and some other guys, hanging around together. And Dougie wanted to join. But you can’t have some… dumb fuck like that. Little guy with a big mouth, and no brains. Of course they gonna come for him. And his little sister telling me, they got Dougie, and gonna beat the shit outta him.
I find ‘em, down a dead end alley, vacant lot. Nothing here but sunshine, barbed wire and broken up rubble. Thinking I can maybe talk our way out. Give ‘em back the money, be all square. What the fuck, that aint gonna happen. What am I even doing here. Just, she asked me to, is all. But they want blood, not money. Bust some skulls, set an example. Then Lantro shows up. Like death staring into your eyes. Kinda like that DA guy, just a game to him. Doesn’t even mean anything.
Try to fight our way out, and they beat us, and beat us, and keep on ‘til you’re out cold. But Lantro, I remember. Tall and rangy, bare arms, swinging his fists. Me lying there, looking up at the sun, seeing his face, blank, lifeless. Not even mad, just something to do, playing the game.
When they found us, Dougie was dead before we even got to the hospital. Hell, I hardly even knew the guy. Just some kid in the neighborhood. Couple a years older’n me but shorter and mouthy. Always talking shit, that don’t mean nothing. Type a guy you’d wanna punch in the mouth, tell him to fuck off. But his little sister…you couldn’t help but want her. She doesn’t even belong here. Sweet kid, such a pretty face, nice round breasts and ass, blonde hair. Like she oughtta be out in the country somewhere, or maybe the suburbs where good people live. I dunno, not here anyway.
Two years ago that they killed Dougie, nobody’d care or even notice it, except now it’s an election year. An unsolved homicide they can maybe pin on Lantro ‘cause it’s about as solid as anything else they got, I guess. And all the time I been here, what… three, four months now, she’s come to see me. The only one who ever showed. That’s nice, a nice thing to do.
I told them, the assistant DA and the other guy, about this place I know. A shot in the dark maybe, but what else is there. When they’re looking down on you like that, like you’re staring down the end of a gun barrel. Telling ‘em you just wanna live; and doesn’t matter to them. What are you gonna do. Gotta get outta this place, that’s for sure.
Next morning they drag me outta bed before sunrise. What a bitch, but at least none of the other convicts will see me leaving, that’s good. Be the shits if they pulled me out with everybody watching. You don’t ever wanna be the latest rumor on the cell block.
Get dressed and out the door. Feels good. Air is somehow fresher, cleaner, on the outside. Tastes like being free. For the moment anyway, shove me into a car and we’re gone. Four guys, two of ‘em DEA, the others Metro detectives, all of 'em dressed like street thugs. We pull into a pancake house for breakfast, sounds good to me. Obviously the older fed is in charge of this gig, does all the talking, introduces me to the others, spells it all out. Like my life is in his hands, and whether I live or die depends on doing exactly what he says.
Geez, can’t help feeling like this is my last meal. Guess he knows that ‘cause he keeps everything moving so fast, you barely have time to think, or be afraid. Says his name’s Gus. Franko’s his partner, and the two metro guys are Roy and Scott. When we get there, he’ll do all the talking, and I’m just ‘sposed to be invisible, stay outta the way. Guess I better do my tough guy act, ‘cause me knees are starting to shake. Then it’s time to go. Goddamn.
Sunrise just breaking over the horizon, poking through gaps in between the tall buildings. Grey, pink, and blue. Gonna be a nice morning. Hope I make it to noon. Park down the street, me and Gus and one of the metro guys saunter down the sidewalk. Hands me a little briefcase and we go up to the house. Weird, it’s the only thing left on this vacant lot, rubble and weeds everywhere, like nobody’s been here in ages. The house is all boarded up but there’s a wooden stairway around back that goes up to what looks like a second floor apartment.
I knock on the door, and it echoes out across the deserted lot, like gonna wake up the whole neighborhood. And everybody here’s a gun totin cop killer. No answer. Keep knocking, try to listen for sounds above the pounding of my heart. Man, it’s hard to even keep my eyes focused, like a bad dream, and not really happening. I wish.
Finally a guy comes to the door and cracks it open. “Yeah” he says. “Hey” I tell him “wanna do some business.” “Fuck off” he says, and closes the door. I pound on it again, and he cracks it open. “You still here, motherfucker.” “Got a pound a smack” I tell him, holding up the ratty little briefcase. “Fuck you” he says “get outta here.” “Hey” says Gus “are we here to talk…or what?” “Who the fuck are you” says the guy. Tell him my name, feels like I’m writing on my tombstone. Tell him the others are friends of mine.
“I heard of you” the guy says. “You some little punk hood, right?” “Yeah” I say “but I ran into Jimmy Dee’s in county. He told me to look you up.” The guy doesn’t say anything, like he’s mulling it over in head. Then opens the door and motions for us to come in. Dark as hell inside, shades all drawn, little table lamp glaring in the corner. Crumby beat up furniture in a big open room. Me and Gus sit down on the couch, the guy sits down across from us. Looks like he’s just a kid, but tall thin old for his age. Roy, the metro cop leans against the wall by the door. A couple of the guy’s pals are leaning against the other walls. Don’t see any others, but feels like there are, like we’re all being watched.
“I got two kee’s” says Gus “for starters. If you can move it, there’ll be one or two a week from now on.” “Who are you guys” says the kid, like he’s not interested. “Name’s Gus. That’s my partner, Roy. This kid here says you the man to see.” He nods his head at me, I’m thinking none of us gonna walk outta here alive. “Gus…” the kid says “you come to my house, with two kee’s, and I’m ‘sposed to do what?” “Hey, the kid brought us here” nodding at me “if this aint the place, just say the word.”
The guy doesn’t answer, like he knows we’re cops, but maybe we’re not; and the deal sounds too sweet to pass up. “I don’t know you” he says. “Nobody knows anybody” says Gus “until we get acquainted. After that, maybe we’re tight. Who knows.” The kid considers that, but still like he’s not interested. “How’s Jimmy Dee’s.” “They moved him to ISO” I tell him, shrug my shoulders. “So… you got nothing to tell me” says the kid. “He’s making it” I say “didn’t seem like he was worried about it.” “Good” he says, nodding.
Then he looks at the briefcase. “How I know it’s any good?” “Leave you a sample” says Gus. “If it’s good” he pauses, smiles a big smile “you give me a call.” “Yeah, okay” says the kid. Gus reaches into his pocket, tosses the kid a little baggie of white powder. “Be careful, it’s pure, hundred percent.” “How much” says the kid, indicating the briefcase. “Quarter mil” says Gus. The kid nods, lights up a smoke. “Okay” he says “we’ll be in touch.”
Man, that’s a relief, now if we can get ougtta here, I’ll be able to breathe again. Then Gus says “just one thing. I gotta see the cash.” “You don’t trust me” asks the kid, so nonchalant you’d think he was bored. “Not that” says Gus “just, if we’re going to move a couple a kee’s a week, I gotta know… you can pay.” The kid gets up, goes in the other room. Gus leans back on the couch, glances around the room. I’m picturing the kid loading a .12 gauge, gonna come back and splatter us all over the room. Gotta hand it to Gus though. Man, he’s so cool, like he enjoys this shit. Gets off on staring death in face, like it’s a game, no big deal.
The kid comes back with a big shoebox, stuffed full with bound up hundred dollar bills. “There’s a half” he says “or a little more. For the stuff you got, plus next week’s. And a little extra, for you guys. Have some fun, on me.” Man, I can’t believe it. Half million dollars, in a shoebox, like its tipping money. Like even if the kee’s are just powdered sugar, he can afford the loss, not worry about it. Gus looks at the money, then up at the kid. “Count it, if you want” he says.
Gus smiles like he’s just swallowed the canary, looks over at Roy. “Shit… gonna trade my Porsche for a Lamborghini.” Weird thing to say, unless that’s his go sign for the other two cops. “Just one thing” he says “I’m DEA, and you’re all under arrest.” Nobody makes a move, wondering if he’s just joking or what. Then the other two cops bust open the door and come flying in with their guns drawn. “Freeze. Hands in the air. Nobody move!” Shit, my heart’s pounding like it’s gonna explode. The kid looks up at the other metro cop. “Scott... what the fuck, man?”
Oh shit, man this aint good. I start looking for exits. The DEA guys look at the two cops. Roy over by the wall, aims his gun and fires at Gus. Gus hits the floor, then fires back. The kid and his two pals pull their guns and like all of us figured it out at the same time. Couple a crooked cops gonna take the money, the dope, and never be seen again. They start shooting at everybody, and everybody shooting back. I hit the floor, start crawling for the kitchen fast as I can. Some guy from the hallway comes in with a shotgun, gets off a couple of rounds then goes down. I see a window over the kitchen sink and hurl myself through it.
Freefalling, waiting for the ground to come up and meet me, manage to flip over just as my feet hit, then my face. Almost go out, but I can’t. The sound of muffled gunfire coming from the house, like hatred, death, ‘til you can’t stand it. Gotta get up, fall again, get up and run, stagger like falling downhill, dizzy, but still moving across the vacant lot to an alley. Down the alley, into the street. Down the sidewalk, cross the street, walking fast now, trying to clear my head, get my eyes to focus. Think. Keep moving, gotta get outta this neighborhood. The only white face around and all those gunshots, not a good mix. Find a cab maybe, I dunno. A bus, where’s the bus stop. Lemme see, Lennox and 29th, there’s a bus a couple a blocks over. Gotta get there.
Couple of old ladies waiting there. I sit. My face feels numb, hope it’s not all red or muddy or whatever. Feel around, see if I’m cut, bleeding. Shit, a gash along the left side of my forehead. Rub my hand over, but it doesn’t stop. The old ladies look at me. See by their faces, it isn’t good. “Got a handkerchief” I ask. One of ‘em looks in her purse. Hands me a kleenex, and a little compact mirror. “What’s wrong” she asks. “Late for work” I tell her “tripped running down the steps. I must be a mess, huh?”
“I heard…gunshots” says the other. “Me too” I say “what’s going on. Is it a robbery?” Police sirens ring out, then more of ‘em, like echoes, one after the other. “Where they going” I ask. “I don’t know” says one of the ladies, trying to see where the sirens are coming from. The bus shows up, and we get on.
Keep spitting on the kleenex, trying to wash the blood off, all the way down my cheek and neck. Grass stains on my forehead, and imprint of where I hit the ground, feeling the little bumps, like if I rub it, it’ll smooth out somehow. My ears burning red, and I’m trying to act all calm at the same time. Walk down the aisle to the back of the bus. If I have to, can jump out the side door when we stop. Or jump out a window, if I have to do that. Not going back to county, that’s for sure.
But where am I going? School…how far is that? Could boost a car, but don’t think I can drive. Maybe call somebody. But nobody wants me to do that. Like a death sentence for anyone caught with me. Can’t do it. School, why am I going there. Oh yeah… but it’s the other way. So how do I get there. Got no money. Geez, wish I coulda grabbed one of those stacks of hundreds. A half million dollars, and like that was a drop in the bucket. No wonder those cops couldn’t pass it up. But sure as shit, its gonna all come back on me.
Get off the bus and start walking. Wrong direction but at least it’s getting me farther away from the house. Take a deep breath and look around. Things aren’t spinning anymore, that’s good. Can almost focus clearly. Cars parked along the quiet street. Hop in a rusty old Honda and get it going. My head’s clear now, know what I have to do.
Get to the school and go inside. Man, like walking back to your childhood. A year and half since I been here. So innocent back then. Like little games children play, pissing off the teachers, making the other kids laugh, and they think you’re so cool. That was good times, back then. Better than now, anyway.
See some kid wandering around the halls, ask him if he knows LaRissa Malone. “Yeah” he says “so what?” Tell him he’s gotta find her, get her outta class, and right now. He doesn’t get it, so I gotta make it stick. Tell him I’ve just come from a shootout and she’s the next target. Now all of a sudden, like he’s in on it. Gang war, feds, and all that shit. All excited and whispering, what’s the plan.
Just… I dunno, that she’s gotta come to the office, family emergency, something like that. “Yeah, that’ll work” he says, and goes off to find her. I watch to see where he’s headed then duck into the bathroom to check my face. Shit, grab some paper towels, run water on ‘em and wash the dried blood off the side of my face. Straighten my hair a little, doesn’t look so bad now. Up the steps and there she is, coming outta a classroom with the kid.
“Jesus, Mikey, what’re you doing here?” “We gotta go” I tell her “I’ll explain, okay.” Get in the car and take off. Thing is, I don’t know where to go. Gotta figure the cops made it to the house in no time. No doubt, word’s on the street too. That means Lantro knows… that we hit his money house, and shot the shit outta the place. And the tall skinny guy with the cash, was probably his little brother. Not good. But at least I got LaRissa before they did.
Sure as shit, she’d be the first one that Lantro or the cops would come looking for, to find me. I dunno, maybe I’m paranoid; but a pretty girl like that, showing up in county every week for visitation… people notice shit like that. And maybe I can get lost in the city, or get out even. But wouldn’t do any good if they got her. Just be a death sentence for both of us. I try to fill her in on what happened, probably got it all backwards, but I think she’s gets the idea anyway.
“Oh no, no, no” she says. “Mikey, you gotta get to the police, explain to them…” “Can’t. They maybe got me pegged as a cop killer. Who knows. Sure as shit they gonna try to pin it on me somehow.” “So what’re we gonna do?” I try to think, and drive, and figure out where I’m going. Pull into a little mini-mall, see if they got anything on the news. Pick up a baseball cap and sunglasses from the convenience store. LaRissa’s only got a few bucks, and I don’t have any. But gotta hide as best I can so nobody can match me to any photos,
Go into an appliance store and see what’s on tv. Breaking news, got reporters outside the house already, but no statement from the cops. Cool, breathe easier now. We could just drive outta here. Might not even have any checkpoints set up yet. Turn to leave, LaRissa grabs my arm.
There it is, my photo, mug shot from county plastered on the big tv screen. Doesn’t look much like me, but sure as shit sends shivers down your spine. “Breaking news, the police have just released the identity of a man they’re calling ‘a person of interest’ in this case.”
Yeah, shit man, person of interest. Person gonna get fucking shot by any brother wants to score points with Lantro. Probably every cop in the city too. Motherfuck, I’m dead, sure as shit. And anybody around me. Walk outta the shop like you’re watching a movie, except it’s your life. Can’t feel my legs, Rissa helps me to the car. “Whatta are we gonna do, Mikey.” “We’re gonna die.” “I don’t want to.” “Me either.”
Look at her face. She’s too young, too pretty, to be mixed up in all this. “I’m sorry” I tell her, like that’s gonna make any difference. “Why did you do it” she asks. Yeah well, I shoulda known. Shoulda known nothing good was gonna come of setting up Lantro, picking some house outta the blue, and fuckin-A, turns out to be a good guess after all.
Yeah, that worked. But not like they gave me any choice. So, now whatta you do. Tell LaRissa to call her folks, tell ‘em to go to the police, ask for protection. The cops probably got people over there anyway, watching to see if I might show. No doubt they been to my sister’s house, maybe even my mom. Even though I aint seen her in quite a while. I don’t know. If we just had some money…
Go back to the convenience store, tell LaRiss to get some candy, gum, whatever. The clerk’ll be looking at her, checking her pretty face and nice breasts. Gimme a chance to grab a BB pistol or whatever off the shelf, stick it under my shirt. Better’n nothing. She gets the stuff, goes out to the car. The guy’s still watching her through the window. I go around the counter, stick the gun in his ear. “Open the till.” He does, and I grab the cash, not much, just what’s there for making change.
Tell him to lie down, keep his mouth shut, eyes closed. I grab a pack of smokes, then see an old .38 under the counter on top a stack of papers. Grab that and go. Looking back, don’t see him get up so that’s good. Guy probably didn’t even see what I look like, too busy staring at Riss. Not that it matters. At least we got a few bucks, and a gun. So that’s something.
“What’re we gonna do” says Riss. “I dunno” I tell her. “But, we gotta stay cool. Not panic, y’know. We’re not gonna get a lot of chances here. So…” If only I could think of something. But there’s no place to go. No place to hide. Geez, head over to the old park by the airport. Construction goin on, like they been working on it for years, dozing out new places in the forest along the creek. Don’t know what there’re up to, but it’s all deserted, lots a places to park where nobody can see the car.
“Why don’t we just leave” she says. “Get outta here, go to Canada or something, and nobody can find us.” “Yeah, we can” I tell her. But there’s something else. Something holding me back. “Mikey, whatta we doing, why aren’t we going.” Riss is all wound up, seconds ticking by like the rest of her life. Woke up this morning without a care in the world. Now it’s like your last day. And it’s on me, whether we live or die.
“The guys, who are after me… are the guys, who killed Dougie. The same ones.” “How can that be.” “It just is, that’s all. The cops, wanna solve that, all of a sudden. Wanna, catch the guys.” “You said you didn’t know, who it was. That’s what you said, Mikey, that’s what you said.” She’s so hurt, this guy, me, she thought was like a hero. Now this, the truth, reality.
“What I know is… they would kill you, and your family, and everybody else; if I ever talked. That’s what I know. And how, how’s that gonna make anything better, huh?” She turns, walks away. I watch her go, what can I do. See a robin hopping along on the ground, poking through the leaves. An airliner flies low overhead, deafening roar like it’s gonna drop right down on top of you. Weird. How do people live here, with that going on all the time.
Light up another cigarette. Riss comes back, tears running down her face. Wipes her eyes, looks at me. I try to see what’s there. Hurt, anger, but no fear. She puts her arms around me, hugs me. Maybe it’s all she’s got left, makes me feel like crying too. But what’s the point. “We can go” I tell her “run, hide, forget all the people you ever knew, all that. Or… maybe go find some people.” “Who?” “The ones who started this, that’s who.”
Makes me feel better to say that. Like I’m a dead man, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing they can do to you after that. Thing is, once you decide, there’s no turning back. So, gotta think it through, figure it out. I go over the whole thing with Riss again, so she’s got it straight. And I can use her to think off of.
“The DEA guys gotta be dead ‘cause otherwise it woulda come back on the cops. But one of the cops musta made it outta there alive.” “Why?” “Cause if everybody was down, or shot up… and then the police show up, find the drugs, and all that money. It’s like this big drug bust, big news, and all that. But it didn’t come off like that.”
“They said it was, a drug bust gone bad” says Riss. “Yeah, and if they’d found all that money, and all those dealers shot to shit, it woulda been… yeah, well at least we’re doing our part, y’know.” “But they did find all those guys.” “Yeah, but not the money. So… one of the metro guys musta split with the cash. Then come back, before the police got there.”
”Why would he do that” she asks. “I dunno. The plan… woulda been to just get the money, maybe the drugs too, and split. But maybe he got hit, not so bad as he couldn’t get around, but figuring he’d half to get to the hospital, get fixed up…” “Then come back for the money” she says. “Yeah, so it’s gotta be out there, somewhere.”
“In his car” she asks. “No… that's a police unit. They’d shake it down, y’know, just in case. ‘Cause his story’s gotta sound fishy as hell anyway. How come he’s alive, and everybody else is dead. No, he stashed it. Close by, hoping he can get back to it.” “And you wanna go looking for it.” What else can we do” I ask. “I thought you wanted, the guys who… did this.” “One thing leads to another” I tell her “cause it’s all about the money.”
That hurts, you can see it on her face. That Dougie was killed just for some measly handful of dollars. But that’s about the size of it. Life is cheap around here. Money means something, a lot more’n any of us. Poor kid, I ‘spose we all know that, but hurts to hear it just the same. Looking at her face, then I see a black and white pulling in the entrance to the park.
Rissa looks at me. “Whatta we do?” “Go flag ‘em down. Tell ‘em you’re… out walking around, found some homeless guy… bleeding to death, down under the bridge there.” “What. Why, what for?” “Trust me” I tell her. She runs off toward the cop car, waving her hands. I sink back into the woods, watching.
Car pulls up to the bridge, Rissa walking alongside. One of ‘em gets out, and she goes to point at whatever. Then the other guy gets out to see what’s up. Come up behind. “Put your hands up. Don’t touch anything. Don’t move.” They turn, look at me. Riss runs off.
“You don’t wanna do this kid. Think about it.” “Shut up! shut up shut up. I’m pretty nervous, don’t want this gun goin off by mistake.”
Tell ‘em to lace their fingers behind their heads, then one at time, toss the guns, and then the cuffs. Grab the guns and stick ‘em in pants pockets, but makes me nervous, for real, gotta light up a smoke. Geez, either one of these guys jump me, we’re cooked. Fuckin fried, and that’s that. Gotta think, and try not to shit my shorts. What’s the drill? Tell ‘em to throw their keys out. One guy does, the other says his are in the car. Yeah maybe… no that’s bullshit.
“Your cuff keys” I tell him “look, I aint got time to fuck around.” He reaches in his pocket, throws a rings a keys toward me. “Okay then.” I pick up the cuffs and toss ‘em to one of the cops. “Put it on, loop it through, under the bridge there.” Get the other guy to do the same. Feels better, both of ‘em cuffed up to the underside of the bridge. They’ll get out of it, soon enough. Probably got other keys they can get to. But I aint worried about it.
“Listen, I didn’t kill any of those guys, back at the drug house.” “Nobody says you did.” “Doesn’t matter, just shut up and listen. I need to know some things.” I tell Rissa to pull the cop car up into the woods, get our car and be ready. She doesn’t ask, just does it. And that’s good. Guess she doesn’t have much choice. I can feel the seconds ticking and they’re moving fast.
“So, who got out of that house alive?” “What?” “Don’t fuck with me, I’m not waiting for your backup, okay. Who, tell me.” Stick the gun in the cops ribs, pull back on the hammer. “Orenson” he says “Detective Orenson.” “What’s his first name?” “Huh? I don’t know.” “Scott” the other guy says “I think his name is Scott.” “Okay. How bad was he hurt?” “What?” “Fuck it man, just answer me.” “Not bad” says the other cop “just… he’s gonna be okay. Is what we heard.”
“Excellent. Now listen to me, Orenson… was the guy… and his partner. They started shooting, at the DEA guys. I got the fuck outta there. And that’s all, that’s all I did. Okay.” “Okay.” “Yeah, okay” says the other cop. “You tell ‘em that. And… I’m sorry about this.” Run up the hill and jump in the car. Shit, wait. Wanna go get the .12 gague outta the cop car, but jeez, just to get outta here is all. Floor the accelerator and take off. Oughtta stay cool, but can’t do it. Too much adrenalin, or fear, or whatever. Just wanna get the fuck outta here, and not get caught.
“Mikey, slow down.” Yeah, she’s right. Ease off the gas, try to drive normal. Just to get outta the park and down the street. Sure enough, you hear the sirens coming in the distance. Geez, they musta called it in as…just an incident, no big deal. But maybe somebody back at the cop shop figured it’s worth rushing in the cavalry. Man, glad we got outta there. Pull into a side street and look for a place to park. Shit, might as well keep going. Cops aren’t gonna be coming down any little side streets, they’re all heading for the park. Yeah well, we aren’t there, so it doesn’t matter.
“What were you doing” says Riss “pulling a gun, on the cops. That’s…” “They told me, Detective Orenson, was the guy.” “From the house?” “Yeah.” “And?” “And…he wasn’t hurt bad. So we gotta go get the money, before he does.” “But they’re gonna be cops all over that place.” “Yeah, and he can just slide right in. Nobody’ll notice.”
That’s one thing. Gotta figure the hospital staff gonna be telling the guy he can’t leave. And he’s saying, nah nah, gotta get back, to my guys, whatever. Give us a little time anyway. But we gotta get outta these clothes. People can’t make you from a photo, not at a distance. But they got a description of your clothes and everybody be calling the cops anytime they see somebody dressed like me, or probably Riss too. Now that she’s in on it.
Stop by the Goodwill store, pick up some stuff that’s altogether different. Nice though, they got good stuff here. Little old lady behind the counter thinks we’re a cute couple. Yeah, I guess. At least she’s got no tv or radio on, so she hasn’t heard about it. I’d like to get an update. Go next door, into a darkly lit bar, can hardly see in here, but they got a tv over the bar. Still running that stuff with my picture and all, and some new stuff.
Firemen and cops outside Riss’ house, burning to the ground. They torched it, but nobody was inside. That’s good. Looks like it blew all to pieces when the fire got to the gas pipes. Shit what a mess. Riss is still in the store trying on clothes. Good thing. Guess I’ll mention it to her, at the right time. Motherfuck, just glad her mom wasn’t home. That’d be the shits. Not like any of ‘em are safe anyway. Probably got all my guys. Can see ‘em now, jacked up against some brick wall, fists slamming into your gut.
What can you do. They’ll say they haven’t seen or heard from me. And it’s the truth. That’s better’n me calling ‘em, telling ‘em to run. ‘Cause they’d be caught anyway, and then it’d be even worse on ‘em. Wish the cops could do something. But not like they wanna help me out anyway. Probably want me dead and all my friends and relatives too. Just the way it is.
Go back and get LaRissa, then pick up a car in the alley behind the crummy old bar. “What'd you find out” she asks. Kind of a cheery lilt in her voice. All decked out in some nice jeans and cute jacket. Got her hair tucked up under a hat, very chic. She could be anybody, any high school kid in town, nobody’d know. I feel better too, with dark-colored clothes, hat, sunglasses. Like you’re a different person, anybody you’d want to be. Looking in the rearview mirror thinking ‘we are in-cog-nito.’ Feels good. I look over at Riss. “They fire-bombed your house.”
“What? Mikey, no, no.” “Nobody was hurt though, not home, I guess.” “How could they do that. Why. My house, where I live, all my stuff, everything, my whole life; gone. Jesus.” “That’s what they do, Riss. Wouldn’t matter if you, or your mom, was home, or inside. It’s what they do.” She doesn’t say anything, tears running down her cheeks. I can’t even worry about it, no time. But it’s like that kid back at the school. It’s kinda cool when it’s all like a game. But people get killed and lives ruined, and it’s no fun anymore.
Circle around a block or so west of the drug house. Park on a side street. “You ready.” “No” she says. “Wanna wait in the car.” Shakes her head. “I can’t, wouldn’t know…if you’re coming back, or not.” Get out and make our way in between the houses. Feels safer walking through people’s yards, instead of the sidewalk. Cops got the end of the street cordoned off. Don’t know what they’re up to, maybe fingerprinting shit or fiber samples or whatever.
I make it about a block and half north where we’d parked the car. Just a few hours ago but seems like a lifetime. Guess it was, for the guys in that house. Shit, all those kids, and the DEA guys too, murdered over some fucking shoe box full of money. Fucking paper, worth so much more than human lives. What a waste.
Fuck it, gotta figure out where Orenson woulda stashed the stuff. Don’t know what to look for, just an ordinary street. Could be anywhere. Bushes, under somebody’s porch, trash can. I don’t know. Then something clicks. When we got outta the car this morning, had to step up on the sidewalk, over a sewer drain. It was right in front of the car. Looking at it now, there’s maybe one per block.
Head down farther to east, tell Riss to wait in the alley by an empty garage stall behind some apartments. She can duck inside if anyone comes. Good a place as any. No problem for me to slip down through the sewer drain, but now I gotta crawl on my hands and knees. Not so bad down here. Fairly dry and just kinda smells like old leaves and dried sewage that’s been stuck to the sides from heavy rains or whatever. After a few feet you can’t see anything. That’s weird, kinda like a mole underground. Eyes and ears got no use ‘cause it’s all pitch black and no sound.
Keep edging forward, takes forever ‘cause you can’t hurry. Every bit of you screaming to turn around and go back, so you gotta force yourself to keep moving forward. Don’t know if these things have like drop offs or whatever or even what’s down here. Rats or snakes or some kinda mutant monster eels or who knows. Try not to think about it, just think about Riss, up there in that nice dry garage. All safe and pretty.
After forever I can see light, where the next sewer drain is. Wanna speed up now but not make any noise ‘cause there could be cops standing right on top of it. Maybe even Orenson, waiting for a chance when nobody’s looking. Finally get there and look up, feels good to see the sky. Man, like claustrophobic down here. The whole goddamn thing could cave in and nobody’d ever find you.
Wanna try to stand up, see if I can see any cops or what they’re doing but my knee hits on something. The fucking briefcase, the same one the DEA guy handed to me. Shit, I grab it and open it up. There’s the two kee’s and all that fucking money, jeez, all in one place. Gotta hand it to Orenson, he may not care about killing kids and cops, or even if his partner gets it. But he knows enough to grab the valuables and stash ‘em someplace safe.
Make my way back down to the other drain, stand up and peer out. Can’t see anything but its gonna be harder getting out than in. Figure I’ll tie the briefcase to my shoelace, try to pull myself out head first, and drag that up from behind. It’s tough, a tight squeeze, and takes forever but I guess nobody saw me, so that’s good. Try to act casual and just walk back to where I left Rissa.
Geez, my heart starts to beat so loud I can’t hear anything else. And it feels bad, like death coming. Like being watched by people who want you dead. Don’t know what to do. Reach for the 9 mil, pull back the slide and hold it down by my side. Look around for any movement. Get to the garage, nobody here. Shit, they got Riss. Shoulda taken her with me. Now what. Get out, look around. All quiet, nobody, nothing. Just…a phone ringing. Inside the garage, on a ledge, her cell phone.
“Yeah, what!” “Mikey, it’s me…” “Riss, where are you?” “Get outta there, come over… to where all the cops are.” “What?” “Just do it.” Yeah okay. At least she’s alive. Start walking toward the drug house, then running. See the cops still meandering around the place; slow down, try to catch my breath. Phone rings again. “Mikey, I’m in the house…‘what’s the number?’ 2401, on Grissen.” “Okay.”
It’s on the street facing where all the cops are. Go in, and Riss runs up and grabs me. Says she got spooked at the garage in the alley. Guys watching from behind other houses, start coming toward, so she took off. Figured nobody’d do anything if she’s within earshot of all the cops. Then she ducked in here.
Squalid little place. See an old grandma, and a buncha little kids. She’s trying to keep ‘em all quiet ‘cause it’s like a big game to them. Big shootout across the street at the vacant lot, and cops and reporters there all morning. Little kids watching from the windows, playing cops and robbers in the living room. A couple a kids got little toy guns or plastic water pistols, hiding behind the furniture, shootin at each other. Like the most exciting thing that ever happened.
Shit, around here, they’ll get used to it. Get hit up by the gangs when you’re nine or ten; or even younger if you’re a crack runner or lookout. And that’s that. No way out. Grandma doesn’t know what to do with ‘em all. Just try to keep ‘em from knocking stuff over. “What’re we gonna do?” I ask LaRissa. “I don’t know. No way we’re gonna make it back to the car.” “How many, you think.” “Don’t know, saw two of ‘em; young guys, mean looking.”
Jesus, like we’re stuck here. Can’t go to the cops, can’t make a run for it. See the phone on a table in the corner, gives me an idea. Call a cab. Tell ‘em there’s a big tip if he gets here quick. Then go over to the window and wait. Meantime, I ask grandma if she’s got a bag or something that I can use. She goes to the kitchen, comes back with a little plastic grocery bag. Open up the briefcase and dump the stuff in. Riss watching me, her eyes light up when she sees all those hundreds. “Jesus, Mikey. They’ll kill you for that.”
“Yeah, but they’d kill me anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” She grabs one of the bound up hundreds, hands it to grandma. “For all your help” she says “thanks.” That’s nice of her, but the cab’s here. Take a quick check, open the door, and take off running. Jump in and tell the guy to get outta here fast as he can.
“Where to” he says. Hand him a couple of hundreds, tell him to get to the airport. Half way, tell him to stop, and we hop out. Give the guy another bill, tell him to keep on to the airport. “What for” he asks. “Just do it, okay.” I guess he gets the picture. Somebody chasing us, he’s suppose to lead ‘em in the wrong direction. Whatever, not a bad day’s work. Better’n taking little old ladies to the grocery store.
“What now” says Riss “why didn’t we just go to the airport. You got the money.” “I dunno. We gotta think, figure it out.” Walk across the street to little diner, get something to eat. Sit in a booth in the corner, outta the way. Call up this guy I know, figure he’ll get word to Lantro.
“Yo, Tony Boy, this is Mike Creston.” “Hey Mikey, where you at?” “On Mars, aint comin back. But tell Lantro I know where his money is.” “So, whyn’t you come over. We can talk.” “Cut the shit Tony. Everybody wants me dead, you and I both know that.” “Yeah, okay. So what’s the deal.” “The money and the dope… a cop, named Orenson, Detective Scott Orenson. Stuck it in a briefcase, tossed it into a sewer drain, down the street from the house. He’s probably there looking for it, right now.” “Okay, that’s good Mikey.” “Yeah, and by the way, I didn’t have anything to with it. Metro cops, and DEA, they set me up. Took me to the house, like a pawn, y’know.” “Sure, sure, no problem. Meet me somewhere, we’ll straighten it all out.”
Think about that for a moment. Oughtta just hang up, but I need him. Maybe can use him. “Yeah sure, Tony. Call me back, at this number.” Click the phone shut. “What’s that about” asks Riss. Tell her I want Lantro’s boys watching for when Orenson shows up. Give ‘em his just desserts. “But they won’t find anything” she says. “Yeah, but Orenson’s gonna die trying to explain it, won’t he?” “And then they’ll come for us.” “Doesn’t matter, we’re at the top of the list anyway.” “So whatta we do?”
That’s the part I haven’t figured out. Anyway the food’s pretty good here. Too bad I can’t taste it. Everyone who walks in looks like they got a .12 gauge under their coat, and looking for me and Riss. Makes you jumpy. Hard to even smoke a cigarette without looking all around all the time. Shit, my hands are shaking. Some fucking tough guy, can barely hold a cigarette. The tv’s got the same old news, plus our pictures, and stuff about Rissa’s house getting torched. Wonder if that assistant DA is happy about all this shit. All those dead kids, and dead cops too. What’s the point.
And then I get it. Clear as bell, all of a sudden. He’s right. Yeah, he was right all along, and LaRissa too. The thing to do, the only thing to do, is to bring down Lannie Trophers. If we don’t, we’re marked for death wherever we go. He’s not the forgiving type. So why should we be. Yeah, that’s what it all leads to. Ever since he killed Dougie. Or before that even. Ever since he decided to sell death on the streets. He probably knows that too. Just waiting for that bullet with his name on it. I guess that’s me. Or not. Either way, that’s how it is.
Shit, like nothing matters anymore. Sit back, drink my coffee, have another smoke. If this is our last day on earth, no need to rush it. Somebody come here to take us out, let ‘em come. And may the best man win. What else can you do. Makes me smile. “What’s so funny” says Riss. Just shake my head ‘cause it all seems so easy now. “They want us dead.” “Yeah…” “Well, two can play that game, right?”
I guess she pretty much feels the same way. They killed her brother, torched her house. What’s she got left. Either keep running, or go down swinging. At some point, everybody gotta do the last one. ‘Cause they back you into a corner, that’s all you got.
Okay then, we go out and find a sporting goods store. Get a box of .38 shells and a couple of boxes of 9 mil, some other stuff. Guy wants to know if we’re going camping. Yeah, either that, or going to war. I tell LaRiss how to work the guns. She wants the .38 ‘cause it’s simpler, just pull back the hammer and shoot. But you gotta take time to line up your sites. Can’t just point and shoot, and no way you gonna hit a moving target. Same goes for them. And that’s good to remember.
I figure we got all day, might as well find someplace safe to stash the cash. A locker somewhere, but both Lantro and the cops got people watching the airport, bus depot, everyplace you could think of. No problem, there’re other places; community college, or a fitness club, YMCA, maybe even a bank. One’s good as the other.
Call Tony Boy on the cell phone. Tells me they found Orenson, and he died screaming like a pig. Changed his story a dozen times but eventually came out that it was him and his partner, and I had nothing to do with it. I guess that’ll happen when they bustin your balls with a hammer and a pair of pliers, tap tap tap. That musta hurt.
“But Mikey… guess what, there wasn’t any money.” No shit, Sherlock. Tell him I wanna meet. Just me and Lantro, unarmed. Tell him where and when. I give him the money, he lets me and Riss go free. And that’s it. “Yeah” he says “I’ll see what I can do.” Motherfucker, you better ‘cause it’s the best deal you gonna get.
We catch a cab, tell him where to drop us off. Feels kinda shaky but what can you do. Go over it with Riss. She nods her head “okay.” But her breath is short, mine too. Wish there was some way to relax, stop my heart from pounding. Watching the buildings and streets go by, trying to think of anything I might’ve left out, overlooked. Too late now, we’re here.
Get out and walk up the long steps to the Federal Building. Sun shining, looks nice, flowers in baskets hanging from the street lamps. Go inside, there’s the metal detector and a couple of fat cops. We hang out by the glass door, watching. A car stops across the street. Lannie Trophers steps out, looks around. Tall rangy guy, looks like death to me. Take a deep breath and walk outside, down the steps. Wave my hand and he comes toward me.
No expression on his face, hard cold eyes. “You got my stuff.” Hand him the briefcase, he opens it up. Couple of kee’s wrapped in tin foil, stacks of hundreds on the outside with one dollar bills in between. “It better all be here” he says, like he could kill you with his eyes. “It isn’t” I tell him “it’s a set up.”
Look up the steps, a guy in a suit walks out the door. Just a coincidence, or is it a fed coming down to bust him. Lantro follows my gaze, runs it through his head, smiles. Looks at me, then back at the man. Then he blinks.
“You dead, Mikey. A dead man.” Turns away, then comes back at me with his fist. Catches me on the side of the face. I go down, and he’s on top of me, fingers clutching my throat in an iron grip. I can’t breathe, try to swing my fist but I’m pinned, seeing his eyes, and my life slipping away. Hear a thud and he slumps down. Rissa standing over us with the .38 in her hands. Holding it by the barrel like she’d cracked him hard with the butt end of the gun.
“Hold it... right there… nobody move!” A couple of cops, guns drawn, and the assistant DA. Cop cars screeching to a halt all around us. Lantro rolls over, looks up. No fear, just hatred, disgust. Like it’s all a big waste of time, just a game. Rissa squeezes the trigger, empties the .38 into his chest. “That’s for Dougie” she says.
Yeah well, doesn’t matter. They’ll probably try her as a juvie, anyway. Maybe get boot camp, both of us. Ninety days in hell. And nearly half million dollar in a locker at the YMCA, waiting for us when we get out.
