by C. S. 96
Seeing Tony enter this quiet, family-friendly restaurant, the waitress approached the hostess and whispered something to her.
Tony stood at the table, arms wide open, grinning ear to ear. He wasn’t going to sit, not until he got that cursory hug to check for wires.
I stood, he hugged me, and in a not-so-veiled maneuver, those big callused hands moved expertly up and down my back and sides, he then patted my chest then began rubbing my belly up and down like a caring dad. “Poppy, you look skinnier. Food must’ve been for shit out there, eh?”
He’d covered my front, back, and sides in a matter of seconds. I was clean—this he was sure of. He dropped into the booth heavily, disregarding the family in the adjacent one. I saw them actually rise and fall in their seats, though they didn’t dare confront him with so much as a snooty look. In fact, everyone in the restaurant, after first glance at the colorfully coordinated drug lord billboard, made it his or her business to look away from him. Though I knew it wasn’t just his circus clown outfit that deterred looks; it was his demonstrative arrogance, his utter display of condescension toward the hardworking folks in the restaurant.
His demeanor goaded me. Something was bubbling up inside, overriding my preternatural survival instincts. I knew he’d kill me right there if he deemed me disrespectful or disloyal—he’d killed for much less, men and women he’d known a lot longer than he had known me. In fact, seventeen years of his life had been spent behind bars because he was caught with his favorite gun, which was traced back to a string of those very murders. So I had to tread lightly to cover or placate the hatred I now felt toward him, though with enough moxie he’d fall for the frustration over the whole situation that I betrayed.
How had I allowed myself to be taken in so easily by this animal, this savage beast of a man? Yes, I’d needed the money the day I’d agreed to my first smuggling run, and then, as the money grew, I’d liked what it could do for me. But somewhere along the way I forgot to leave this life behind. Tony didn’t deserve to be in the company of these decent people, out for an afternoon with friends, colleagues, loved ones. Tony, without question, belonged behind bars. The irony of this situation was not lost on me. I began working for Tony all in an effort to make enough money with the hopes that one day I’d become just like these very people Tony had such contempt for. And now it was crystal clear that I had to put Tony down like the rabid dog he was. Because if I didn’t, my family might end up murdered any day in his destructive wake. He was cagey and clever, and his only loyalty was to his money and himself.
The waitress, now obliterated with fear, offered us two scary, oddball men a menu, one of us a stammering mess, the other a cross-dressing torpedo who looked like he’d just walked off the stage of a ’70s glam rock show.
I casually asked Tony, “You want something to eat?”
He was staring intensely into my eyes, same tight grin; after a long moment he shook his head no.
I tried to let this poor waitress off the hook. I caught her eye and shook my head, no. What I meant was, we’re okay, no menus, and as long as you stay as far away from this table as you can, you’ll be okay, too.
I sipped my tea, staring right back at Tony. Ever since we had come face-to-face, my fear had been slowly dissipating and excitement filled me all over again the way it had in Sevier County, the surge of electricity I’d felt when I was revealing all the secrets to Chris, the customs agent.
I’m going to burn down your house, I thought.
I could only hope I’d be there when Tony realized it was me all along, and he’d missed his chance on taking me out, the only man who could do so much damage, the young Sherpa who guided him up the icy crags of a sky-splitting mountaintop, and, just before reaching its summit, drop-kicked him the fuck off.
Tony held out his hands, very close to my face. I eased back in the booth, now totally in control of the situation. I said, “What, your manicure? Shiny, like always, very pretty, Tony. Has sort of a French tip thing going—très cosmopolitan.”
Tony shook his head no and wiggled his fingers as if he were calling over a toddler.
“Tony, I’m not in the mood for games. What is it you want?”
“The paperwork, your wallet, and your phone,” he said quickly.
I was taken off guard when he asked about the phone; I had told him it was destroyed during the arrest. Why would he ask for it? I was sure Raul hadn’t seen me with it on the bus ride home, so under the harshest of tortures he couldn’t have given me up, unless he lied, which was not a huge stretch of the imagination.
I stalled, pulling the folder off the seat. I slid it over to him. He didn’t look at it, obviously waiting for the wallet and phone.
I tilted my head at Tony, feigning an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look. Then after a few very tense moments I simply shook my head, pulling out my wallet and sliding that over to him as well. I said, “Tony! I don’t have a phone, remember? I told you it’s gone. Broken during the arrest.”
His eyes opened wide. “You think I ain’t been arrested before, Daddy? They have to give you your phone back, your property, regardless if it’s broke or not, there’s still the SIM card. Once you free you get it back, so why you so nervous to give me your phone, or what’s left of it?” He tilted his head at me, feigning a joke, though it was no joke. “You trying to hide something?” His smile was creepy, twisted, his blingy gold tooth glistening as always under the bright fluorescents above. I wanted to take a blowtorch to it.
I’d left the phone in one of the hidden compartments I had built into the floor of the Mercedes, an aftermarket, spring-loaded electric compartment, built and hidden into the undercarriage of the car with an opening hatch, nearly seamless, underneath the driver’s seat rug.
“Yeah, they tried to give it back to me, busted! And do you honestly think I’m that stupid, that I’d keep it whether it was broken or not, or that I’d keep that fucking SIM card of all things? How do I know they didn’t put a trap on it while I was in lockup, or a tracking device, or worse, some new kind of listening device?” I tried to suppress the smile blooming from inside of me.
I continued, needing to hammer this in so it stuck, “You see, that’s why, until this major fuckup, which by the way I said was a disaster waiting to happen from the very beginning, I have never done one day inside because I think not one step but three steps ahead of everyone else. So fuck that phone. And fuck you for the accusation. What do you think, I’m working with the Dudley-Do-Right cops of Sevier County, Utah? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Tony tilted his head at me, that Hun-like smile gone, his thin sadistic lips twitching, hidden under that droopy mustache now involuntarily moving back and forth. I knew I had him. He was sold. I just prayed to God that the paperwork was as good as my lie.
Tony said, almost in a whisper, “Yeah, three steps ahead of everyone else, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
I shot back, “Oh, suddenly because I’m careful I’m the bad guy? My caution has made you a lot of money over the years. It’s also kept all of us out of prison, if you haven’t forgotten.” I paused for greater effect, pretending to still—not fully—understand his accusations. “And I really don’t understand what it is you’re trying to get at?”
Tony pulled out a small, stylish chrome case containing delicate reading glasses; he carefully unfolded them and slid them onto his nose.
The worn leather bench seat crackled with his every move. He began to examine the documents, checking to see if there was anything off. I knew this was do or die. He would not repudiate anything he read, or give me any indication he found discrepancies between the law as he knew it and what those documents revealed, not yet anyway.
Eerily calm, Tony looked up over his lavender glasses into my eyes. He asked, “What I don’t get is that you got caught with thirty keys of pure powder and they just let you and that fool waltz out of there without bail. That’s very interesting to me.”
“Well, let me help dispel any doubt you hav
e or accusations you might be cooking up in that head of yours. First off, it wasn’t ‘they just let us waltz out.’ It took time. As you may have forgotten I was there for weeks on a federal hold. The cop that jumped us, Phil Barney, is apparently some loose cannon out there in the sticks, thinks he’s some super trooper and a true believer, just doesn’t go by the book very often, and there have been lawsuits brought up against the town by people who have been arrested by this particular superhero deputy. Regardless of what he found, it’s fruit of the poisonous tree. He had no reason to enter the RV, no threat to life, any imminent danger or circumstances, nothing. He just took it upon himself to search the RV, and then, without a warrant, busts up that incredible hiding spot you put together with, I’ll assume, Raul, because a five-year-old could’ve found it.”
WHAM! Tony, having reached his limit, slammed his fist on the table sending silverware, my cup of tea, and sugar packets onto the floor. By this point diners had quietly asked for their checks, leaving half-eaten food, slinking their way out of the soon-to-be crime scene restaurant.
Tony pointed his finger in my face, hissing at me like a cornered rat. “Blame me? Who told you to take a nap for a mothafuckin’ day? You were on that transport to watch over that maricone! You forget who the landlord is and the tenant is all a sudden? ME, I’m the mothafuckin’ landlord, ME!” He pointed his thick shaking finger so close to my face I could smell the nicotine on it. “Don’t blame me because you fuckin’ checked out. That was your job staying on top a him. You were right that we should’ve sent him alone, because apparently for fifteen fucking hours he was alone!”
The waitress didn’t even attempt to move to the table. I had to slow this down, calm the beast, or else we’d need to move this meeting to another venue, and I was afraid of what Tony might do to me if he got a moment alone. I casually scooped up the mess off the floor.
After a few moments I cautiously continued, “Tony, the judge knew it was a bad arrest, and my lawyer screamed bloody fucking murder that if I wasn’t released on my own recognizance or the charges weren’t dropped in light of the sheriff’s disregard for the law, I was prepared to file suit against the county for false imprisonment.” I indicated the paper, still shaking in his hands. “Read on, it’s all there. He’s getting the whole thing thrown out without even bringing it to a Mapp hearing. The case is getting tossed.”
Tony thought about it, all seemingly calm, and he finally nodded his head. He removed the thin lavender frames from his face, slowly folding them up and placing them back into their pretty little chrome case. “Lucky? Huh. That’s a good one. You know what Raul told Hector and then Hector told me?”
Here it comes, the do or die, or start blasting and run-like-hell scenario.
He didn’t wait for me to answer. “He told him that you were cooperating and that’s why you got out without any bail and they’re dropping these charges. Now why would he say that?”
The little ratfink had to know I was going to inform Tony that he in fact tried to work out a deal with the feds, and furthering his duplicity by decidedly going to Detroit to sell the gack and in the process potentially blowing up our Canadian connects with the Italians. I realized then the grave mistake I’d made. I should have told Tony this as soon as he walked in. Now, for the first time, I felt cornered.
My only choice was to appeal to Tony’s malevolent hatred. The hatred he had tamped down for years. I had to give him the reason to kill this predestined doomed junkie, Raul. If I was successful, I thought Raul was going to die a very unpleasant death, and even though he had tried to make me meet that same fate in order to cover his own scrawny ass, I felt terrible sending him to such a terrible end. I needed to remind myself that I no longer had a choice. It was either him or me.
I dropped my head, slowly shaking it. I started to laugh. “That little junkie rat,” I said. “Do you actually think it was me that tried to set that deal up? You know both of us for how long? Think about that for a second. And if you had to pick which one of us would pull such a ridiculous boneheaded maneuver? But beyond the obvious, why would I do it when I knew the case was weak? It makes no sense. If I were the one who went out there to sell the material, I would’ve sold it! No. Raul rolled the dice because he’s an idiot junkie. That’s why they separated the two of us from the jump, as soon as we got there, divide and conquer. Who would you try to turn, him or me?”
Tony’s face was slowly turning from a crimson red to a white complexion. The vehemence Tony had, squashing Raul like a bug, was just too overwhelming for him to think clearly. He began shaking all over again. I’m sure he was thinking of a million different ways to torture Raul, and possibly Hector, for getting caught up in the lie.
I didn’t stop. I had to fully manipulate the kill cog in Tony’s head, that once clicked into place could never be reversed. “Tony. Look at my paper: when asked if I wanted to talk without the presence of counsel, what’s the statement read?”
He didn’t answer me, just kept staring into his shaking hands.
“It reads, after subject was read Miranda rights he refused to make any statements without the presence of an attorney. Now I’ll bet you my SEL outside that not only haven’t you read Raul’s paperwork, but you haven’t even heard from or seen him. And as sure as we’re both sitting here, Hector did not bring you Raul’s paper. What’s that tell you? And you know what, they’re both going to come up with some dumbass excuse that Raul lost his paperwork, or tossed it, because he’ll claim the case was weak and thrown out. But let me go one better. It was that little asshole who talked.”
Tony’s head shot up; eyes wild like that of a basset hound close on the trail of a fox, snout flaring in the musky air, ready to pounce, clench, and shake its prey till its neck snapped. “What are you saying?” His voice was as close to desperate as I’d ever heard from him.
“Like I said, they had us separated from the arrest on the scene all the way to the time we were released. They kept me segregated in the hole, and that prick was in gen pop. They figured him as the type of clown who would be doing a lot of talking with—I’m now sure—prison snitches or worse, undercovers inside the prison. From my cell I could see the outer offices. And who is walking out, uncuffed and surrounded by a group of guys that I can only describe to you as suits with attitudes, and not the type of suits you can purchase next to the garden hoses at Sears. No, these were feds.”
Tony’s eyes were darting back and forth like laser beams at some drug-fueled rave, no longer in disbelief of me, but of himself, for not eliminating this problem long ago. He said, “And you decide to let me in on this little tidbit of information only now? Not last night, or as soon as I walked in here, maybe a heads-up on the phone this morning?”
I shook my head no. “I don’t trust the phones any longer, and last night? What would’ve the difference been? It was four in the morning when I got in. And the moment you walked in here you had your finger pointed at me like I was some newbie mule come up short on a load without paper.”
“Did he ever return to the jail? Did he tell you he ratted?”
“He didn’t have to. The COs in the facility told me. After I saw him skipping out with that troop of Eagle Scouts I asked, and they told me he gave up everything about the run. The crazy thing was, he was trying to sell it to our Italian connects in Detroit.”
“Italians! Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony dropped his head in his hands, his giant fists balled up like two large coconuts, turning white as he squeezed the blood out of them, veins pulsing in his powerful wrists and forearms.
“Listen, Tony,” I said gently. “The good news is that it was a total clusterfuck, a bust of a trip. They flew him out there and he wasn’t able to make any connects, that’s what I got from the inside guys. So as far as I can tell he didn’t damage our relationships yet. What he gave up as far as the organization, Mexico, that I have no idea.”
“So, he finally got his chance to fuck us and he did. I swear I’m gonna drop hundred fifty
thousand on the street right now for anyone who can bring him to me alive.”
“You can’t, Tony. He’s in the system and they’re watching him now. Me, too. We need to put a little distance between all of us for a while. They don’t know anything about you unless the asshole gave you up, but that means he’d be giving Hector up, and honestly, Tony, I don’t see him rolling up his own brother.”
Again, he screamed, “Guy’s a fucking crack fiend, he’d give up his mother for a $10 rock!”
By now the restaurant was almost completely empty. Tony tended to clear restaurants and clubs, but only after he’d had a few bourbons and half an ounce of his own product. I noticed the manager and a few waitresses huddled in a corner talking quietly, occasionally sneaking a peek at our table to see what we were up to. If the police came, that’d be a major problem, since I was strapped and I was sure Tony was carrying as well. We sat there quietly. I was certain Tony was only thinking how he was going to exact revenge on Raul, but also how he was going to get the Beltráns their money back for the previous load we lost, the one this load would have paid for, and of course the other debt, the one Hector hung like a noose around his neck.
I was worried Denny’s workforce, seeing all of their tips quickly evaporating behind the crazy man screaming and cussing, might have called 911 to try to salvage the rest of their day. With that would come the inevitable toss from the cops, and they might find the gun strapped to my ankle, ending my chance at the start of the new life. “Listen, let’s get out of here, Tony. I think we scared half the people out of here and one of them might have called the cops. Let’s take a walk and talk about what to do next.”
