“…and Tone, don’t let us down please. Again.”
“I won’t.”
“Good, now get the fuck out.”
I left the cigar-stenched Lincoln through the passenger side door from the back seat. The cold, midnight air stung my lungs as I drew fresh breath to clear out the hazy smell offending my olfactory senses. It was a dull night. Usually this late there’s a symphony of hookers calling, sirens and the occasional shout from some drunk dick-head yelling from a bar or their window. I was in the less savory part of town called Brickmill where you don’t just walk around all willy nilly without some type of protection on you; something I always kept on me. Shit, you’d be a dumbass not to.
Uncle Weep sent me off on my way and the asshole couldn’t even get me within two miles of my apartment. Oh well. more time to think about my predicament as I trek home I guess. This is some bullshit, honestly. How the fuck did I get myself into this? Oh, that’s right. Because I’m an idiot. A few years back I went in on a job with Uncle Weep and his “merry men” which ended up with me in his pocket for a long long time. The arrogance of these pricks, the merry men. What the fuck kind of name is that? They thought they were some gangster, Robin Hood hybrids that shook down corporate scum and gave back to low income and impoverished people. They did a decent job at first, but when they realized how much they could really squeeze from these white collar pussies, guess who got the shit end of the stick and lost their “charitable donations”? Right, the poor people.
Uncle Weep had a knack for obtaining information. Whether it was stock tips, business development information, upcoming crimes, hits, political and corporate corruption, sex rings… you name it. He started out in his line of work as a tough kid from Wallgrove, a similar neighborhood as Brickmill. Shit piled on top of shit. He was part of a small crew and did small favors for the local top thugs and gangs. He was handsomely rewarded for his services and basically worked freelance. Anything from drop offs to cops, to picking up his employer's kids. He would even sometimes supply women for parties and gang initiations.
One day he got his hands on the top dog's “beige book”. Now in economics, the beige book is basically a book where the fed records details of meetings and keeps detailed records on the status of the economy. In this case, it was a gold mine of underworld information and details on past, present and current dealings that would have been disastrous for the powers that be falling into the wrong hands. Well, Uncle Weep spent six hours with this beige book, copying down page after page before returning it to it's not so secure resting place. Knowing what was already in play, and what would soon be in play, Uncle Weep got greedy and bold. He started a coup that took out the older bosses, and assembled a loyal team that would follow him after he disposed of the big dog. Once his power was consolidated, he took control of the bars, the hooker holes, and the underground casinos that were the main source of income for the group. The beige book was now his and only his. What happened to the copy that he made? He gave it to the only person he trusted. His very first jail cellmate, Chuckie Knowles. The book also contained heavy dirt on a decent amount of the cops, which kept them looking the other way and kept his operations running smoothly. Over time, Uncle Weep expanded his influence and the money grew, becoming the now well known Uncle Weep and his Merry Men.
I became a part of this organization not too long after and quickly gained his trust, or as much of it as I could. Uncle Weep believed in being on the front lines with his men; he loved the thrill and loved the excitement of a nice “operation”, however, one went terribly wrong due to false information. I got out, but half of the merry men, Chuckie and Uncle Weep were caught by an ambitious new detective and were sentenced to prison time. Uncle Weep had to destroy his original beige book during the bust, something he was not happy about. Having high powered attorneys at his disposal, coupled with somehow convincing Chuckie to take most of the fall, Uncle Weep was out in a couple short years. Chuckie however caught fifteen years, but he was out in ten.
So that little meeting I just had with Uncle Weep was him giving me instructions to meet Chuckie and retrieve the location of the package that he kept hidden all these years. I made it back to my shitty ass apartment and grabbed a beer from the fridge. It was a dingy piece of shit that I got for near nothing, but I kept it relatively clean. I scuffed my foot on a high heel. Christ, this bitch is always leaving her bras and tee shirts on the floor as if I don’t have laundry baskets. Six months we’ve been fucking and she still leaves her shit everywhere.
I collapsed on the sofa and as I laid there, thinking about seeing Chuckie for the first time in years, something kept worrying me. That young ambitious detective that got us into this mess. Detective McGavin. A force to be reckoned with nowadays and is one of the main reasons Uncle Weep’s empire has drastically diminished these past few years. She’s also why this book is now of utmost importance to him. This agent has been shadowing Uncle Weep for a while now but she hasn't been able to make anything stick. . I’ve never met or seen the bitch, but I have my eyes and ears open. Fuckin feds. They’re determined, but I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to this ‘thing of ours’. Ha. I’ve always wanted to say that. I closed my eyes, and thought about the next day. Slipping off into a deep sleep.
I woke up greeted by honking and shouting as I walked over to the bathroom sink and splashed water in my face. I stared in the mirror at myself for a few minutes. I didn’t know who the hell was staring back at me. I didn’t know or recognize him at all. I opened the mirror to grab my pills but I forgot I finished the last of them before I met with the merry men last night. I was just about to start looking for my phone when I heard it buzz on the kitchen table. Flipping it open, two missed calls. God she’s annoying. I flipped the phone shut, grabbed my coat and went out to take a stroll. The sun felt good on my face, but the glare on this particular car as I made my way down the street caught my eye. Fuck that’s bright. This car though… I’ve never seen it before. Tinted windows and a newer make. I usually knew all the vehicles that parked on these blocks around my apartment, especially ones that stood out. We aren’t in the type of neighborhood that one would come to see how nice the cars are, to put it nicely. Who was this mother fucker? I kept looking back as I walked by it, catching a glimpse of the make and model and the license plate. Weird.
I made it to Quickie Pete’s place and per usual he had me in and out with a fresh batch of footballs and some extra random assortment of goodies that he likes to throw in. I have no idea how this became a game of ours, but one day after establishing myself as one of his best customers, he starts throwing in extra goody bags of unknown pills with a label that told me how many to take in a given time. The effects would vary but he never told me what they were. It was like getting a grab bag with something different every time. I loved it, and he was always putting me on to new shit. I stopped at my favorite pizza place where this girl named Michelle worked. God damn the things I would do to her. She was only eighteen and I was thirty-eight but shit, if she gave me a night I would be gay not to capitalize. She rolled her eyes the moment she saw me come in.
“Tone I told you to stop coming here if you’re not buying any food. My brothers are afraid to say anything but I told you before we can’t just give you free stuff all the time.”
“Relax. I know exactly what I want to eat…”
“Oh… my bad then-“
“But it ain’t pizza…”
She threw a salt shaker at my head and spat something at me in Italian which I could only assume was something slightly harsh. I laughed and went up to the counter. I reached over to grab me a big, cold, slice of barbecue chicken pizza while Maria watched in disgust. Fuck her. All these wide eyed customers in here knew who I was and who I worked for. Her brother Frank just stood in the doorway to the back room and watched as I stared him down and sucked the sauce off each of my fingers. I threw a crumbled five dollar bill in his chest and turned around to leave. Before the door closed I could just make out the faint arguing of the two of them in Italian. I chuckled and kept making my way to stop for a drink at Maestro Mack’s, my favorite bar. This time though, I didn’t have any urge to drink. As I waited for the light to turn I noticed a figure off in the distance down the street. Black hoodie, white shoes. Just leaning against a pole with their hands in their pocket. What the fuck are kids wearing these days? I walked in to Mack’s to the usual gauntlet of high fives and cheers. Being a merry man had its perks. I stood at the bar waiting for Joe to pour up my go-to beverage when a hand slid around my waist and down to my dick, followed by another inside my pants. Like I said, there’s perks to being a merry man.
“Get the fuck out of here Trish, you know I’m taken.”
I turned around and moved the hands off of me, staring directly into the eyes of the she-devil known as Trish the Wish. She wore those freaky ass Halloween contacts in her eyes, and wore her hair in ponytails of which she died purple. Her tank top was filthy, barely being able to distinguish between its true color and the grime that she collects throughout the day. Her nails were an assortment of violets and blues, while she wore a jean skirt that only the horniest of horny ass dudes could find out on the spot if she was wearing panties or not. I was not one of those horny dudes, and this is always how it went when I walked into Mack’s. Trish has been trying to fuck me for months but I would never let my dick near this creature.
We call her Trish the Wish because one time this new guy comes in all depressed and pissed off, telling sob stories at the bar to anyone who could listen about how his wife left him, he lost his kids and there was a warrant out for him for some violations of his probation. He yelled out ‘I wish I was just getting my dick sucked right now…’ And sure enough, the clank of heels started approaching this fucking loser and Trish didn’t even say a word. She just unzipped his pants and took it in her mouth. The whole bar froze. I spit my drink out. Some other perv, yells out from the corner “I’m next!” Trish pops the dick out and yells back “YOU WISH!” The bar erupted in laughter, and ever since then she had her nickname, Trish the Wish. She could grant your wish, but you better be careful what you wish for. Oh, and yeah, uh I forgot to mention… She's a hooker.
“I swear you’re a fag Tone, how come I neva seen this woman.”
“None of your business, now where’s Chuckie?”
“Who?”
I grabbed her by her wrist, very subtle, but tight enough to let her know that this was no joking matter. She looked around to see if anybody was paying attention to the developing situation. Only the bartender looked back and glanced at us as he pulled a bottle down to serve another patron.
“Chuckie. Charles Knowles… must I repeat his name again?”
Chuckie was also a fence. Someone who plays the middle man for anything stolen of significant value. Art, jewels, cash, cars, but most important, information.
“Tone, come on I don’t kn-“
I pull my shit back and show her my knife hilt. I prefer knives to guns, only because I like to be up close and personal when I have to escalate a situation.
“He’s upstairs in the office, Christ. Now get the fuck off of me.”
I let her twist her arm and shrug away. I kiss her forehead and pull her chin towards my face.
“Don’t ever touch me again. If you do, your heart will make love to this knife and trust me, it won’t be a quickie like most of the men around here that you fuck with. I pushed her face aside, leaving her there staring into space as I sprung up and made my way to the upstairs back office. There I found Knowles in front of a laptop and a sound system, listening to Rage Against the Machines with a cigar in his hand.
“Tone! What’s up fucker? How’ve you been?”
He went to shake my hand and I just stared at him.
“Knowles… you know why I’m here, you know what I want to know.”
Chuckie sighed. “Ok. They live at…”
“Stop,” I told him. I held a hand up.
“What?”
“Write it down on that piece of paper. Don’t say a word.” I pulled my waist into view to show him the blade that was on me.
He wrote the address down on a pen he had on his desk. 325 Mulhocken Drive. Blue shutters.
“Tone, what’s the-
“Shut up.”
I took the paper and turned to the door
“Ok, well I told you I would take care of you.”
I stopped and turned around.
“Why are you wearing all those layers? It's hot as hell out and even hotter in here.”
“Haha, well I guess I just have poor temperature regulation.”
“Hm. Alright well, you did come through. I’m impressed, come here, bring it in.”
He slowly approached me, and I grabbed him in close. He was sweaty and smelled like shit.
“You know I have to be a hard ass with you man, it’s the nature of the business,”
“Yeah I get it man, and I’m sorry.”
“No… you’re not. Not yet.”
I grabbed him as he slumped down, clawing at my shoulders to stop his fall. His legs buckling under him, he began to cough with blood trickling out of his mouth. I let him down gently so as to not make a commotion. I pulled the blade out of his chest and then used it to cut the wire that he was hiding under his shirts. I collected the device and grabbed him by the hair so that he looked up at me. Holding his wallet in my hand, I laughed.
“Whether you survive or not… I couldn’t care less. But I will pay Lisa and Joe a visit if anything happens to get in the way of my job.”
“Leave my... family out of this…” His coughing and heavy breathing made me sick.
“You should've thought about that a long time ago. Goodbye.”
I left him there bleeding as I maneuvered my way into the blind spots of the cameras; the same way I came up. I brushed past the drunks and went outside, ignoring the insults being shouted from the slut. A cool breeze gave me a shiver as I stepped out of the bar, the sun setting perfectly to give that orange pinkish hue that I loved seeing. I smiled, and just as I went to take another step towards home this gorgeous woman brushed past me going into the bar.
“I’m so sorry,” she said as she turned back.
“It’s ok.” And I gave her a wide comforting smile. She smiled back and pulled her hair back behind her ear. I thought about going back inside, but it was too hot in there. I had to create distance. I put some headphones in my ears, and damn near skipped down the street. Fuck. I almost fucked up as I licked my finger and bent down to wipe away a drop of blood that was on the tongue of my shoe.
ns 172.70.126.98da2