by P G Loiselle
Once he was out of sight, I ripped out the letter from the so-called bankers. They’re demanding that I pay back 10% of the principal, two thousand dollars, by the end of month or they’ll come collecting. Two frickin’ thousand? Where was I supposed to get that kind of money so quick? I would have burned the stupid notice if I had had a match and felt like burning down the whole office building for that matter. What a kick in the nuts. I fell quiet and sifted through the container, picking up receipts and letting them float back down into the box. There was no way to be done by midday. I intended to draw it out much longer to aggravate him even more. Every half hour, he came back yelling and each time, dumped some new piece of trash chore on me. I swear, he must have spent the day roaming the office, gathering tasks people dreaded. Right before quitting time, Carney again summoned me to his office. I was wondering what he was up to now, but after passing through the door and spotting a bowling-pin-shaped presence staring out of the king-sized window, I knew why I was there.
“Mr. Moore,” said the creepy yet familiar voice of the man known as Stone. “I heard about your little mishap on Friday night. Such a pity that those nice things had to be unnecessarily dismantled. My men don’t know how to behave sometimes. Yes, such a pity.” He continued peering through the oversized glass pane and didn’t turn to confront me.
Carney was on my right, looking tense as always in Stone’s presence.
“Sorry Mr. F., but I’m not sure how to reply to that.”
“Mr. S.,” he said, snarling. “We agreed on Mr. S, didn’t we?”
My nostrils flared to hold back a chuckle. “Yes, of course. Well, I’ve offered all I have, Mr. Esss. Apparently, it’s not good enough.”
“All you have?” he said, tempering himself. “I highly doubt it. I’ve got a feeling that the pressure isn’t great enough. You know, even the best men buckle when the pressure gets too high. Don’t they, Albert?” he said, looking over at Carney.
Albert? Albert Carney? I nodded and grinned, refraining from out-and-out laughter. Carney’s eyes burned through me, though he was forced to contain his ire.
My focus again moved over to the mobster. “Well, you can’t get blood out of a stone,” I said, with the pure intention of busting his balls for the second time.
He swiveled towards me with one quick jerk and almost tripped.
“How can I tell you something I don’t know?” I said, smoothing over the reference. “I could lie if you want, send you on a wild goose chase. What would that bring you? No further to the truth than now, whatever that truth might be.”
Stone’s arrogance gathered onto his exaggerated features, and his lips puckered in amusement. “The truth is, Miss Almeida can’t be too far.” His smile widened even more to reveal a mouthful of discolored enamel. “While you and your little friends deliberated with my men Friday evening, she was snooping around my compound. My rottweilers sensed her right away. The poor girl hardly made it back over the fence.” The oversized mob boss wagged his head in disfavor and expelled a long breath. “One of my babies, Reginald, even snatched this.” He held up a woman’s shoe, presumably Amy’s, and let it drop to the floor. “Hate to think what would have happened had he seized the whole foot.”
“You saw her?” I said with restrained aggression, taking the surprise hook without flinching. How could she not have warned me?
“It’s all on videotape. My security team perused the area. I must say, she hid herself well. We’ll catch up to her. It’s only a matter of time.”
“And it was her?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Her curves were unmistakable,” he said, winking, and clicked with his tongue and cheek. “Not to mention the length of her physique.”
“So, you didn’t see her, face I mean?”
“It was all too obvious.” He clasped his hands together, looking delighted with himself. “Did I frighten you with that news, Mr. Moore?”
“If it was her, which there’s no proof, at least I’d know she’s alive.” I dropped my hands and jutted out my underdeveloped pecs. “And you? You frightened? Having someone in your backyard? Maybe an enemy?”
“It was her. I’m positive. And, Mr. Moore, for the record, I fear nothing, absolutely nothing, especially some pesky feline.” He stood there gleaming, the pompous fat-cat, as if waiting to be immortalized by some well-known Victorian sculptor.
I mirrored his pretentious stance. “You seem to be wasting a lot of time trying to catch that pesky feline. And how would I know if it was Amy anyway? I was busy with your gang. Think what you want and trust me, I want this over more than you. The truth is, I’m worried, worried as hell.” I peered right through him. My voice darkened with a frosty gust. “You worried, Mr. S.?”
Stone either let what I said soak in, calculating next steps, or simply didn’t have a quick enough comeback. Whatever the case, we both rode it out, observing each other, until he finally replied. “I must admit, you are good. I could really use a young man like you on my team: nerves of steel, true to your values, a real go-getter. But, in the end, I will come out ahead. I always do, Mr. Moore, always do. And what of my poor adversaries, losers on a losing team, I’m sure they rue the day they met me or heard my name. Don’t end up being one of those unlucky ones, Mr. Moore. Do the right thing.”
“Again Mr. S., I have nothing to say, only that you better leave me and my friends alone or else. And maybe someday, you’ll find your money, or your money will find you.”
“Is that a threat I detect? Or a promise? Or both?”
“Neither nor. Call it an observation.”
We had a three-way staring match until it became too silly for me to stay and put up with any more nonsense.
“Mr. S., Mr. Carney.” I glared over at that spineless worm with contempt. “Or should I call you Albert? My eight hours of work are over and according to Rhode Island Labor Law, I’m free to go. If there’s nothing else, I’m sure there’ll be many more opportunities to continue such pleasant conversations.”
“Yes, many,” Stone said, concurring with me. He appeared to be burning inside.
I left for the exit and as I reached the hallway, rotated back towards them. “Oh, and Mr. S., your subordinates seemed to have had some car trouble on Friday. Hope it wasn’t too inconvenient.”
The hours until nightfall dragged. Before starting my trip to the warehouse, I even held tight in the cellar contemplating whether the situation was too hot to risk it. After hearing about Amy’s escapades from Stone himself, I had to go and talk sense into that girl. Instead of my usual way of motoring there, I detoured through the wooded trails of the Cumberland Monastery to make extra sure nobody followed me, hopped back onto Mendon Road and proceeded on my regular route.
When I got there, it wasn’t a shocker. Amy was laterally imprinted into the couch, staring at the metal girders holding up the ceiling. “There you are,” she said, not bothering to look at me as I pulled open the window.
I moved to the far end of the three-seater and nudged her feet with my hips so I could sit. “I’m not mad, just disappointed. Kind of thought you’d include me in your plans. The way you asked for my help.”
“Only you?”
“All of us,” I said, rolling up my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Sorry, daddy. You were busy playing.”
“Come on, Amy. Talk to me.”
She propped herself up and slid her lower back against the armrest. “What do you want me to say? That I screwed up?”
“Course not.” I swung my legs onto the cushions so that we were facing each other, toe against toe. “I’m just glad you’re safe. Heard about the dogs and all.”
“Those beasts? I can be tough meat, but they would have chewed me up good.”
“How did Stone not see your face?” I asked.
“Had a mask, Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddy Kruger.” She growle
d through her teeth while clawing the air with her hands crimped. She looked more like a suffering arthritic than a demon with switchblade-fingers.
“I know who Freddy Kruger is.”
“Luke, I wanted to tell you. I swear. You were preoccupied, with the Woonsocket gig, and the recording coming up. I didn’t want to ruin anything. I only wanted to spy on him, a reconnaissance mission. That’s all…since that asswipe investigator just vanished on me.”
She clamped down on my feet with hers, outstretched her arms and offered me her palms.
“Almost got you caught,” I said, and instead of putting my hands into hers, gave them a gentle slap. “And could have gotten you killed.”
“It’s impossible to sit around and wait for something to happen.” She straightened her rounded torso. “I thought I could make something happen,” she said, imploring me with Italian hand gestures. “Or at least dig up something to help us.”
“How’d you even get there?”
“I live in a warehouse for Christ’s sake. Wasn’t hard to find some truck keys.”
“You kidding me? One of Mike’s father’s trucks?”
“No need to rag out on me about it. Mike and I talked. Actually, I confessed,” she said as if it would justify her actions. “He understood.”
“Amy, promise you won’t go it alone again. We need to stick together like you said, remember?”
“I admit. It was stupid.” She eased back and grabbed the back of her thighs, right below her buttocks. “Next time you’ll be in on my plans. I promise.”
“Our plans,” I said and hinted a smile. I looked down to where her hands were. “Did you cross your fingers?” My smile blossomed.
“Maybe,” she said and let out a giggle. She snatched a throw pillow and lobbed it at my head. I closed my eyes and let it hit me. When I opened them, she had bent towards me, and her face was inches away from mine. “Just because I’m joking, doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”
“What are you talking about?”
She returned to her original position at the end of the couch. “It can’t stay like this forever. You’re out galivanting around, and nothing’s getting done. I’m a wanted woman. You saw what happened when I tried to regulate the shit that’s going on. I almost got my leg chewed off.”
“What do you mean galivanting? I’m busting my ass for you, Amy. You should be grateful.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… It’s just that…” The poor girl started hyperventilating and banged her hands repeatedly against the sides of her head. “I’M JUST GOING FRICKIN’ BONKERS. Ahh,” she screamed, convulsing like she was having a seizure. “Ahh…” Her limbs thrashed in all directions, and globs of saliva flew out of her frothing mouth.
“Whoa, Amy. Chill.” I secured her wrists before she hurt herself or caught me with a stray fist. Her screaming wouldn’t subside. “Just calm down. Calm down, I said. It’ll be ok.” The crazed maiden continued with her mental fit, and I scissored my legs around hers, securing her fully like a human straitjacket. Gradually, she stopped yelling and writhing about; she breathed heavy and flared her nostrils like a dragon. She scowled at me as if I was the one who killed her father. “That’s it. Relax. It’ll be over soon.” I caressed her hands, and her breathing eventually entrained with mine. After several minutes of consoling her, it slowed to a normal pace.
“Alright,” she said and wheezed. “I’m okay now. These attacks, they come out of nowhere. There’s no controlling them. It’s especially bad when I’m alone.”
“We will get you out of here,” I said. “Please, Amy, please. Try to stay calm, and patient. It’s like in a fire. You panic, you’re done for.”
“I promise. I’ll try to stay calm. If you promise me some action.”
“Action?” I snickered, thinking I could loosen things up. “I’ll give you some action, baby.”
She examined me with cunning eyes, seeming to forget her bout of madness. “No, I’ll give you action,” she said and threw another pillow at me.
“That’s my girl,” I said and grinned, happy that the situation had stabilized. “One more thing. Don’t hold it against Tommy that he wasn’t there on Sunday. Or next time too. He didn’t say anything, but he’s got Tina to think of.” I tossed the pillow back at her, and her hands received the cotton-stuffed fabric square.
“Why hold it against him? I meant what I said. If I was Tina, I wouldn’t let him get mixed up in this either. He’s got more than himself to think about. We’re doing this for people like them, good people.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
“Damn straight I’m right. Now take this,” she said, laughing, and after a decent wind up, chucked the pillow hard into my chest area.
I countered with a different cushion; we continued to horse around and bust balls for several minutes until I ground to a halt. I hadn’t slept at all the night before, and the fatigue weighed me down like a lead afghan. Without getting into other details about my encounter with Carney and Stone, I cut the visit short and rode home on only the fumes of my diminishing biotic energy.
Sitting in my living room recliner was a godsend after getting that ridiculous payment notice from Carney, being thrown off-guard by Stone and dealing with Amy’s freak-out. I had cracked open a Bud to steady myself before attempting to bed down and was chilling out to UFO’s, “Out on the Street” from their Strangers in the Night live LP when the phone rang. It’s almost eleven, I thought. Can’t a man get a little peace? I lowered the music and picked up the receiver.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Hey, Champ, its me.”
“Craig, how’s it going? Sorry I, you uh, your call surprised me. Not bad news, is it?”
“Great, it’s all great. For you, too, apparently. Heard all about your legendary concert last Friday, in Woonsocket to boot. Four-n-Moore’s the talk of the town.”
“Was quite the show,” I said. “You know how it is, though, the fans make it special.”
“Don’t be so modest. You rule, and you know it. How’re you going to be a star if you don’t have the right attitude? You got to know you’re the best and live it. You reckon Jagger walks off stage thinking he sucked? Those guys celebrate themselves, Champ, and everyone celebrates with them. That’s how it works. But hey, I’m not calling to talk rock star basics. I have important news for you. The film, you know, Boston, it’s there for the viewing. The video guy called and said he has a cut ready to check out. There’s only one hitch. You’d either have to go tomorrow, or the next slot would only be in three weeks. What do say, Champ? Maybe you should play some hooky tomorrow. You ain’t sounding so fit now that I think about it.”
“Uh, let me think, work or the video? It’s got to be the video,”
I said without pause, period or comma. “My boss is being even more of a loser than usual, so I could use the break.”
“Here’s the address. Got a pen?”
I grabbed my four-color Bic and jotted down the details.
“Had an inkling you’d go. He’s expecting you at eleven. And hey, you must need your rest for Friday night. Better let you go. Can’t wait, Champ. Four-n-Moore’s a highlight for The Showroom.” He hung up before I could respond, and I was relieved that I didn’t have to spend half the night listening to his babble-storm.
Finally, we get to know the truth. Who’s right about the Faneuil Hall performance? Amy, who’s impartial? Or that Scheister character, who’s probably also impartial? In twelve hours, I’ll judge for myself. I figured it’d be good if all of us could go or at least one of the Four. Stevie should have first dibs no matter how asinine I thought he was being lately, so I dialed him up. He said he couldn’t swing it and seemed pissed that I called past his bedtime. It was almost as though he didn’t even care one way or the other. Dale didn’t pick up, and it was too late to call Tommy, so my last resort was Piano Mi
ke. It’s not that I didn’t want to go up there with him, it’s only that he tends to be pessimistic, and in this case, it would have been helpful to have someone who was more uplifting. Nevertheless, he’s still one of us, so I gave him a shot and called him.
“P.M., it’s Luke. What’s going on?”
“Sleep, maybe? It’s almost midnight.”
“Sorry. Big news though. Craig just called. Said we could check out that film. You know, the Scheister thing. The video guy only has time tomorrow. I’m scheduled to meet up with him at eleven in Boston. Up for a road trip?”
“A road trip? Tomorrow? Who else is going?”
“Just us.”
“Guess I can take the day off. Nothing special going on at work. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something anyway.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty and bring coffee. Want a doughnut or something?”
“A banana muffin, maybe.”
“If they have it. And hey, what’d you want to talk to me about?”
“It’s no biggie, but it’s best if we talk in person”
“Ok, that’s cool. See you tomorrow morning.”
I hung up and was dying to know what he wanted to talk about. Quitting the band? Booting Amy out of the warehouse? Or has he plain had enough? As if life wasn’t complicated as it is, I thought that even Piano Mike, good old reliable Mike, might turn on me. Maybe I was being too cynical, but things aren’t going my way lately. Out of nowhere, panic set in, and I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders when the music, low in the background, snuck into my senses. As I turned up the volume, “Love to Love”, my favorite UFO song from the album was reaching its pinnacle and the young Michael Schenker had broken into a simple but virtuoso solo. The playing style reminded me of Stevie, my brother, my savior, and how great it is to be able to make music with him. Yes, my brother who’s somehow changing and weirding me out in the process.
