by Carey Lewis
“Not at all boy-o, was the best thing could’ve happened.”
Bulldog looked for the waitress, stuck his hand in the air, ready to order some food.
“What happened to your Jeep?” Mick asked.
It wasn’t long after Bulldog left that Cowboy arrived. The sun was well on it’s way up, everything illuminated in daylight now, The Boss knowing the day had to get started. The pause of tranquility was over.
Heard the Triumph coming before it pulled into the driveway. Heard something else too, like an old engine knocking. The Boss guessed it was the timing belt, making the engine’s cylinders misfire like that.
He recognized the Boppers, even if they weren’t wearing their plaid. What he didn’t recognize was the girl, that’s the one that gave him pause. He told them to sit down, outside, hoped being in his yard relaxed them and offered them a drink.
“After the night we had?” Cleon said.
The Boss took Cowboy into the house to get the drinks, standing in the kitchen he poured Cowboy a shot of Wild Turkey.
“There’s going to be another body in the wall,” Cowboy said. The Boss leaned against the counter, listening. “A gang dresses up like cowboys, one of them calls himself The Kid decided to draw on me. It’ll be him.”
The Boss waited, saw Cowboy wanted to talk. Watched Cowboy gulp down the shot, then poured him another.
“They go around with replica guns, the ones made to look real. This kid drew on me, his gun fired in the holster. That’s when they told me about the fake guns but this kid’s gun fired.”
“So it was real?” The Boss asked.
“They say he found it in the park, thought it was a toy.”
“And now you’re beating yourself up about it. Putting down a kid with a real gun that wanted to draw on you.”
“He was just a kid.”
“A kid with a gun. A real one that fired.”
Cowboy downed the other shot instead of sipping it like he normally did. The Boss poured him another.
“What would’ve happened if he beat you? You’d be dead and that kid would be confused about his toy gun.”
“I know all this but it was still a kid.”
“And that kid would’ve killed you.”
“Anyway, thought you should know about another one in the wall. Probably holding the gun that did in Cyrus if they found it in the park.”
“What about the one that called? You meet him?”
“We’ll be meeting again,” Cowboy took the phone from his pocket, looked at the dots. “Looks like he’s the one going to pick up our boys. Thought maybe someone else was sent.”
“The money’s in your account. Your time is yours now,” telling Cowboy he was free to go, a job well done.
“You need that kid’s body in the wall?”
“It’s out of my hands now.”
“This guy’s of the disposition might find it better to put four bodies in a wall just the same as one. Did it already tonight with those Cyber kids the way I figure.”
“Our business is done.”
Cowboy gulped down the Wild Turkey, nodded to The Boss and left the house. The Boss heard the Triumph roar to life then rumble away. He grabbed four more glasses and headed back outside.
Came out to the swing, saw Cyrus on the phone he borrowed from Cochise. He was going to get some drinks in them, loosen them up a bit, start asking questions about what happened, see if there was anything they could tell him he could use. See if there was anyway he could keep his business going.
Heard Cyrus say, “I’m with him now but he won’t want to talk to you, he wants to talk to me,” then saw him hang up the phone, told The Boss it was his cousin that’s been bugging him all night.
The Boss poured shots of the Wild Turkey, the bottle almost empty. They walked over, taking seats at the table The Boss built. He watched as Cochise and the girl didn’t take the shot, just looked at each other.
“I want to hear from the girl,” The Boss said.
“We need your protection man, everyone’s after us,” Cleon said.
“In a second. It’s these two I want to hear from.”
He watched them tense up, especially Cochise, looking like he was in school and got called on by the teacher. “It’s nothing to do with you,” he said.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.”
He watched Cochise struggle, looking at the girl and then to Cleon, then back to the girl. Saw the girl nod so Cochise braced himself.
“I’m out of the Boppers,” he said finally.
“What?” Cleon asked, anger forming on his face.
“It’s not for me.”
“Is it the girl? She put you up to this?” Cochise’s phone started ringing in Cleon’s hand.
“She didn’t put me up to anything, it’s something I want to do. Cyrus is gone, there’s no more Boppers.”
“Cleon’s the Boppers,” Ajax said.
The phone kept ringing.
“We’re here trying to get protection. I don’t want to need protection Cleon.”
“What the hell Cochise?” Cleon asked. The Boss saw why Cleon was really upset. He was being abandoned.
The phone kept ringing.
“Fuck sakes,” Cleon said, answering it, “I’m fucking busy how many times I got to tell you to stop calling?” turned to The Boss, said “can you talk to him so he stops?”
The Boss took the phone, covered his ear as the kids kept arguing amongst themselves, asked who the other person on the line was.
“You Cyrus’s partner?”
“Yes,” The Boss said.
“I want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with all this dope down here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
He pulled up to the dry-docks, watched the sun rising above the factory building. He figured he had about five minutes before Ritchie would pull up with the troops, take the place by storm. He had five minutes to put his plan into motion.
Jamal was surprised how easy it was to get access into the place, just had to hit a button and the door rolled up. Might as well have a red carpet for him too he thought. But then again, no sense making entry difficult when no one knew where the place was.
He drew his gun and went inside the shipping area, heard the soul music of Asteria’s station blasting away. Saw the old crates busted open, some rusted equipment off to the side, an old forklift that hadn’t been used in generations. Went through the plastic partition into the main floor of the factory, saw the crane overhead, heard the music echo through the mainly empty complex.
He looked at the fresh blood in front of him, little bits of brain matter scattered where the pour soul bought it. Saw the bucket of cleaning supplies beside it, figured they’d get to cleaning it when they could. Saw the throne made of metal over there, off to the side of the steps leading to the office up top. A metal throne, Mesiah thinking highly of himself. Saw the blood stain in front of it, another bucket with cement inside, a stick poking out from the top. Busy night for them.
Jamal saw the guy standing on a ladder smoothing the cement on one of the pillars. Saw the wet cement clinging to the others. The guy was big, wiped his brow before continuing. The whole pillar was wet.
He went around the office, moving underneath, careful to keep the big guy’s back to him. Jamal was careful not to make any sound, trying to walk softly on his feet, watched the guy come down the ladder wiping his brow again. He turned to see Jamal standing about ten feet in front of him, the gun pointed at his chest. He stopped in his tracks.
“You do good work,” Jamal said.
“It’s not easy.”
“Imagine not, your arms stretched out over your head like that.”
“Gets tiring.”
“How long you been at it?”
“All night.”
“What’s your name?”
“Joseph. You looking at getting some work done?”
“Think I’d come here if I was looking?”
“Weird place to look but anything’s possible.”
“Like a bunch of cops coming to storm this place?”
“Thought so. You don’t look like the type come in here trying to get scrap metal.”
“You don’t look like the type wants to go to jail.”
“There’s a type looks that way?”
“You’d be surprised. Want a job?”
“Just said you wasn’t looking.”
“Thought maybe you’d want to get out of the cement business. You listen closely you can hear the sirens. Figure we got about two minutes.”
“High pressure interview.”
“Think you’ll do fine. It’s one question, whether or not you want to go to jail.”
“Say I don’t.”
“Then you say you’re my informant.”
“Yeah?”
“Then say I’m a silent partner when you take over the Black Knights.”
“The man behind the man huh?”
“How’s that sound?”
“I’m your informant, no one’s going to listen to me out there, some rat for the fuzz.”
“Think we got about a minute now. Why don’t we go see if Mesiah’s the type to resist arrest. He got a gun up there?”
“Be surprised if he don’t.”
“He resists arrest I don’t see a reason why you’d come out as an informant to anyone other than the cops I tell to get you clear.”
“Let’s go see what Mesiah has to say.”
Jamal motioned with his gun and Joseph led the way up the stairs, Jamal behind him. They went into the office, saw Mesiah with his back to them, his hand propped up on the chair holding a massive blunt, staring at the porno on the monitor.
“Cops are coming,” Joseph said.
“They’ll pass,” Mesiah said.
“Don’t think they will this time,” Jamal said. Still, Mesiah didn’t turn around. Jamal needed him to have a gun in his hand, make it look like self defense. “I’m not here to arrest you, I want to get you out of here. Turn around so I can take a look at you.”
Mesiah swiveled on the chair, not holding a gun but had it tucked into his pants. Not what Jamal wanted.
“You want to get me out of here?”
“For a price. We don’t have much time.”
“That’s why you waited for the final moment? Until I could hear them coming?”
“Thought I could get a higher price.”
“How much?”
“How’s fifty sound?” Jamal asked. What he wanted was for Mesiah to not have a gun on him. Have it tucked away in a drawer. Some place where he’d have to grab it before he left. There was no reason for him to grab it if it was already on him.
“Mesiah, can you make up your mind? I’m not going to jail,” Joseph said.
“Sorry, I have very little trust in cops. I’m trying to figure out his game.”
“You want to wait here and go to jail?” Joseph asked.
Jamal saw Mesiah’s eyes squint, eying him, trying to figure out the play.
“I’m trying to get some money,” Jamal said.
“Mesiah come on, let’s bounce.”
“Think I’ll stay here,” he said, taking a drag from the blunt.
“Mesiah, I ain’t playing,” Joseph said, taking a step to the open door and grabbing the AK-47 leaned up against the wall. Shit, Jamal didn’t even see it when he came in, too focused on Mesiah and the thick white girl on the screen.
He watched Joseph pick up the gun and his heart raced, wondered if he’d survive the shootout. He’d have to put Joseph down first holding the AK, wondered if he could turn in time to get Mesiah before he pulled the piece from his pants.
Joseph tossed the AK across the room to Mesiah, said “let’s go,” while it was in the air. Jamal traced the gun with his eyes in its arc over to Mesiah, saw it fall into Mesiah’s hands when he caught it. That’s when Jamal pulled the trigger. Watched the blood explode out of Mesiah’s chest. Watched his upper body fling back in the chair and his body slid down, coming to rest awkwardly, the AK-47 still in his grip.
Boon didn’t know how Noah did it all the time, doing the man’s running around for him. No sooner did he get back Mesiah was sending him off again for some bubble headed kids that didn’t seem too important none too long ago.
Back long enough for Boon to tell him some cowboy motherfucker was there to meet him, not the Oriental kids he was supposed to be seeing. The cowboy telling Boon those kids was done, not to be touched. The man hearing that, puffing away on his pot cigar, thinking about it, taking his time. Man sure loved drawing it out, keeping that pot all to himself. Then he said some cowboys got the ones they was looking for. Told Boon all about the fire at the church, that lesbian gang done goofed, the kids getting away.
Now they were caught again, told Boon go out to the farms, bring the boys back to him. Boon thinking shit, it don’t matter when he goes and gets them, those boys had a talent for getting caught.
But here he was, taking Rural Route who the fuck knows, to go and fetch. Noah had some patience for damn sure. Boon wanted him to get better just so he wouldn’t have to run these damn errands anymore.
All these damn farms looked the same to him, hard to tell one apart from the other. Wondered what all these crackers out here with their pitchforks thought of the Sean Paul he blared from his stereo. He pulled up alongside a tractor taking up all the space on the road, guy on top wearing a cowboy hat, had a piece of grass sticking out of his mouth. Guy actually tipped his hat to him when Boon passed. The music didn’t seem to bother him none.
Finally thought he saw the place he was looking for, pulled onto the dirt road, passed some cherry trees, coming up to a barn where the cowboy kids were all leaned over something. They got up when they saw the plumbing van come up to them, Boon seeing the dead kid on the ground.
“Fuck me,” he said as he climbed out.
“You got to help us,” one of them said, running over to him.
“Motherfucker, I look like a wizard to you?” he kept walking toward the body, saw the one look up at him, the tears staining the dirt on his cheeks. “The fuck happened?”
“Guy dressed like a cowboy shot him. He wanted the Boppers then he shot The Kid,” one of them said. Boon was agitated to say the least.
“You assholes dress like cowboys.”
“Not us, someone else,” and Boon knew who they were talking about. Didn’t expect him to pull a move like this though.
“Tall guy? Walks with a swagger like he got a dick run down to his knee?”
They didn’t know how to answer but it didn’t matter. Boon knew who it was. He was impressed, didn’t think the guy had it in him to kill a kid. Now figuring those Boppers must be important to someone if Cowboy wanted them. It made him want Cowboy that much more.
But it would have to wait. He counted them, seemed to be four with the body. He was supposed to be bringing back four including a girl. Wouldn’t make much difference, Joe still going to have to put four bodies in a wall. Once he found the Boppers again, he’d have to put in four more so that might piss him off. Shit, the way they were going, they’d have to get more concrete.
“He dead?” Boon asked.
“We think so.”
Boon stood over the kid, saw his vacant eyes staring into the sky. Boon looked up to see what he was staring at, saw the clouds moving slowly. Thought it wasn’t a bad sight to see if you had to go. Could’ve fell the other way, into the dirt, watch ants bringing crumbs back to their hole.
“Get him in the truck.”
The boys came over and hoisted the dead one up and shuffled over to his van. Boon slid the door open and waited, watched them try to angle the body inside, being gentle about it.
“Hurry on up, you ain’t gonna hurt him more.”
They tossed him in, crying. Weak ass bitches Boon thought, staring at the boy in his van. More accurately, he was staring at the remaining space, figured they wouldn’t be none too happy riding in a bu
mpy van with tools and their buddy bouncing around. He looked at the kids, all the little bitches crying, figured to get them in the van they’d have to be in the same state as their dead friend.
“What now?” one of them asked.
“Wait here,” Boon said, made his way to the passenger side and opened the door. He reached in and came out with the AK-47. Oh man, the look on their faces was priceless, thinking he’d have to remember this moment. Remember the one kid falling backwards on his ass, mouth open like he was catching flies. That’s when he heard the motorcycle.
Of course he would drive a motorcycle. He didn’t expect it but it made sense. He closed the van door, kept the AK in both hands, not pointing it, but having it ready as Cowboy pulled up. Watched Cowboy stare at him, got off his bike.
“You pop the kid huh? Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“He drew on me.”
“Still just a kid. Now I got to clean up your mess. Running my ass ragged.”
“Should get a new line of work.”
“I’m good at it, not much else for me. How about you? Lots of demand for a cowboy?”
“Not really but it pays well so I can afford to take the time off in-between.”
“Shit, what’s that like, knowing you get paid well?”
“You can try it for awhile, see how you like it.”
“Think I stay where I’m at. Don’t think the hat would fit.”
“So there’s that.”
“Ain’t no cameras around here, you understand?”
“I understand,” Cowboy said, pulling back the duster jacket to reveal the sidearms on each hip.
“Shit, you pack heavy. You know, you was any kind of smart, you would’ve snuck around the house, shoot me in the back.”
“I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t occur to me.”
“Guess you can’t huh, moral code y’all have. That’s what I would’ve done. Moral code goes to the one that’s living.”
“Ain’t no moral code. Just want to see the life bleed from your eyes.”
Boon looked him over. The guy had balls of steel, no look of give to him. He knew he made a mistake, started talking to the cowboy trying to get under his skin. Turned out the cowboy was better at talking shit than he was. It was the first time Boon actually thought he could be taken out.
