The Undertaker

by William F. Brown

  Jamal and the rest of the gang broke up laughing, pointing down at Tinkerton, and chattering. “He diss'ed you, Chuck.” “The White Boy diss'ed you good.” “Swish!” they said. “Thas two points. Two points for White Boy.”

  Tinkerton could barely contain his rage. “Look, Talbott... Pete.” He tried another tack. “You can't win this thing. You can't run fast enough or far enough. I can reach out and grab you by the throat anywhere you try to hide.”

  “So far, your grab ain't been too good, Ralph,” I said.

  “Two more points for White Boy.”

  “He be killin' you, Chuck.”

  “You been poster-ized, my man.”

  “No mas, no mas!” another homie ridiculed him.

  Tinkerton's eyes flashed up at them. “If you continue with this folly, you're only going to earn yourself a lot of pain. You should remember that before you go dragging other people into it with you.”

  “Nobody dragged me into anything,” Sandy snapped.

  “No, no, man!” Someone in the crowd called out. “Da bitch don't count. Dis be one-on-one.” And, “Yeah, dat be a technical. She be on da bench.”

  “You be right, Doughboy,” The others joined in. “Jus’ White Boy and Chuck. Rules is rules and da bitch don't count.”

  “Yeah, 'cause she could kick both their sorry asses, she want to.”

  They all broke up laughing, all except Toothpick who was still holding his crotch. “Yeah, y'all got that right,” he added warily.

  “The score still White Boy four, Chuck zip.”

  “Look, Pete, you're an intelligent fellow,” Tinkerton said, pointedly glancing around at the homies. “I won't scam you or try to scare you anymore. The world's full of two kinds of people — those who understand the moment and seize it, and those who let it run roughshod over them. As I told you in Columbus, we're the good guys. We're cleaning up this country, putting the low lifes and the riff-raff in jail where they belong.”

  “Low lifes? Riff-raff?” I heard from the crowd. “Who he talkin' 'bout, Jamal?”

  Tinkerton ignored them and kept his eyes focused on me. “We'll be running this country soon enough and we can use someone with your determination and your resourcefulness on our side,” he said with a big Texas smile. “Unfortunately, you haven’t had a chance to see the big picture yet.”

  I looked down at him with an equally big smile and said, “Ralph, if you're the big picture, it's time somebody tore it down off the wall and hung up a new one.”

  The gang went crazy. “A trey, a trey!”

  “Shit, a trey from half-court, man.”

  “He be da white Kooo-beee Bryant.”

  “Das it, game over. White Boy win.”

  “I want them.” Tinkerton turned and shouted at Jamal, pointing at us.

  “Like, I'm supposed to give a shit?” Jamal laughed.

  “How much do you want for them?” Tinkerton looked at me then back at Jamal with a thin, sinister smile. “I’ll buy them.”

  “Reparations? Now thas a different story.”

  “How much?” Tinkerton seethed with anger.

  Jamal thumbed his chin for a moment and pointed. “That gold Rolex on yo' arm.”

  “He's with the government. He wants to kill us,” Sandy said.

  “That right, Chuck?” Jamal asked. “You gov'ment?”

  “Why do you care?” Tinkerton answered as he pulled the big, solid-gold watch off his wrist and tossed it up to Jamal.

  “The man do have a point, Lil’ Sister,” Jamal said as he slipped the watch over his wrist, admiring the way the solid-gold band gleamed in the bright morning light. He turned and looked at Sandy, then shrugged. “Why do ah care?”

  Tinkerton smiled, supremely confident now, figuring we were cheap at twice the price as he motioned for the goon to climb up on the platform.

  “Not so fast, Chuck,” Jamal raised his hand. “All the green in yo' pockets, too. Toss it on up here.”

  Off to our right, we all heard the unmistakable sound of another El train coming in. Heads turned. This time the train was on the northbound track where Tinkerton and the goon were standing. They saw it, and so did we. Tinkerton was on the verge of losing it, but he did what Jamal said. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a money clip with a thick wad of bills and tossed it at the feet of the young black man.

  “Done!” Tinkerton answered through clenched teeth. “Now toss them down.”

  “His too,” Jamal said, pointing at the goon.

  The goon frowned. “Give it to him!” Tinkerton shouted at him as the train came closer and closer. The goon did what he was told. He pulled out his wallet and tossed his loose cash onto the platform.

  “Shee-it, Jamal,” one of the gang laughed as he picked the money up and started counting. “Gov'ment sho don't pay like it used to. You think Richie Daley or Jesse Jackson make chump change like this? Ah don’t think so.”

  “The guns, too,” Toothpick added.

  “The guns?” Tinkerton glowered up at him. “No deal.”

  “Your choice, Chuck,” Jamal smiled. “Put the guns up here or go fuck yo’self, ‘cause we don't want nobody pullin' none of that shot-in-the-back-while-escapin’ crap.”

  Reluctantly, Tinkerton and the goon laid their automatics on the edge of the concrete platform. Black hands quickly scooped them up and they disappeared in pockets. Tinkerton looked down the track at the onrushing train and began to fidget noticeably. “All right, you bastard! Now throw them down here.”

  “Uh, oh!” A gang member moaned. “Chuck jus’ diss’ed Jamal's mama.”

  “He gonna be real sorry ‘bout dat,” another chuckled.

  Jamal looked down at Tinkerton and shook his head. “Chuck, time you learned, some things ain't fo’ sale down here. You want ‘em, y'all can come on up here and get 'em yourselves. Dey be all yours.”

  Tinkerton's eyes flared as he knew he’d been had. He grabbed the edge of the platform and tried to pull himself up, but his bandaged hand wouldn’t support his weight and he fell back onto the tracks. Behind him, the goon had not even gotten that far. Given the choice of climbing up alone and facing the gang or staying in the path of an onrushing El train, the goon decided the top of the concrete barrier was the safer bet. Tinkerton looked at the train and gave up too, climbing up onto the barrier next to him. The ring of black faces laughed at them even harder now. In less than three minutes, they had picked Tinkerton and his goon clean and completely outmaneuvered him.

  Tinkerton knew it too. He looked up at me in angry frustration and said, “I'm warning you, Talbott. It doesn't end here.”

  “You got that right, Ralph.”

  “You don't understand. They were scum. All of them. Scum!” he screamed, but his words were drowned out by the El as it roared into the station and stopped. The train doors opened. I grabbed Sandy's hand and headed for the open door, but she turned back.

  “Thanks, Jamal,” she told him.

  He smiled, “Most fun we’ve had all week, Lil’ Sister. A tidy profit, too. But you best watch out for that big dude. He be pissed at you and he really pissed at White Boy. He goin’ cap his ass, he get the chance.” With that, Jamal and his homies ran down the platform and climbed the stairs to the street.

  We got on the train and looked out the window. On the barrier next to us, Tinkerton’s face was only inches from the glass. This had become personal. It had nothing to do with Columbus or the bodies, or the Mob. He wasn’t accustomed to losing or being humiliated like this, as I escaped from his grasp once again.

  “Good thing the homies got his gun.” Sandy chuckled. “Your lawyer friend’s mad enough to melt the window glass.” She pulled out her camera and began snapping shots at Tinkerton and the chaos on the Dan Ryan and back on LaSalle.

  Behind Tinkerton, a growing crowd of dark-suited goons and Chicago cops yelled at each other and pointed up at the El car, but they were too late. The motorman was not about to wait around in the middle of all this chaos with all th
ose guns out. The doors of the car closed and the train began to roll, picking up speed as we left the station.

  “You know, Talbott, I gotta hand it to you,” Sandy said, grinning from ear to ear. “Yesterday, I thought you were just another tight-ass nerd. What a hoot!” As Tinkerton and his goon watched, she reached up and threw her arms around my neck. “Shows how little I know,” she said as she gave me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  With a $5.00 rose and a $50 Cubs hat…

  For a small woman, it took it took a lot to pry her loose and set her back on the floor. It was a hard, wet, noisy kiss, and our faces were only inches apart as I raised my hand toward my mouth. “Don’t you dare wipe that off.” She grinned up at me. “It’s bad luck.”

  “I wasn’t wiping, I was checking to see if my lips are still here.”

  “Good idea. I’ve been known to damage some things when I get excited.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Yeah, you’ll have to remember.” She looped one arm around one of the El car’s stainless steel poles and the other around mine, pulling me close. Her cheek was pressed against my arm and I could smell her hair. Considering we were screaming at each other only a half hour ago, I was surprised and suddenly very much afraid.

  “Giving me a big wet one in front of Tinkerton wasn’t real smart, you know.”

  “That depends on your perspective.”

  “It’s going to be hard to argue I dragged you here against your will, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

  “My will, huh.” She looked up and gave me a helpless shrug. “I guess I was so pumped after all that stuff back there, I couldn’t control myself. But don’t push me away, Talbott. Please. Let me have some fun before I come back down, okay?”

  The El train quickly gained speed, rocking and clattering its way north, back into the city. Sandy seemed content with the vise grip on my arm and I was content to watch her reflection in the dirty window glass. Some people have a sixth sense when people are watching them. She must be one of them, because it didn’t take long for her eyes to pan up and lock on mine as I watched her.

  “What?” she asked with those dark, curious eyes.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “If it wasn't for you, they'd have had me for lunch.”

  “Who? Jamal and his homies? Nah, they were just messing around. If you want to see some bad, I'll take you on a real tour of the south side.”

  “No thanks. I’ve had my adrenaline for the day. Look, I know I acted like a jerk this morning. Part of me wanted you to go away, but most of me was glad you stayed. So I apologize. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

  “Jeez, a man who knows how to apologize. Does this mean we’re a ‘we’ again?”

  “That’s up to you, and Tinkerton.”

  “And you aren’t going to run off and dump me the first chance you get, are you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Is that a promise? Because a gentleman like you would never break a solemn promise he made to a vulnerable young maiden like me. Would he?” She stared up at me with a straight face. “Okay,” she added. “Maybe I’m not so vulnerable.”

  “Only if you promise me that if this all goes wrong and we get caught or they’re closing in on us, you’ll get away from me and run off and hide. Will you promise me that?”

  “How sweet. He almost cares.”

  “I mean it, Sandy. I’m worried about you. Promise.”

  “All right, I promise. Cross my heart, I’ll run away from you. But if you run away from me, I’ll hunt you down like a mad dog.”

  That was a cheery thought. I looked around the El car. Spartan, you might call it. It had a tile floor, molded plastic seats, and aluminum poles with straps for the rush hour crowd to grab. Plastic: the surface of choice for a cattle car. Nothing to break, steal, or stain. And Sandy and I were the only white faces on the train. It had been noisy when we jumped in, then all conversation instantly ceased. The other passengers had their noses jammed into their newspapers or their eyes closed, hoping it would all go away.

  I looked back through the window. The northbound lanes of the Dan Ryan were strewn with cars and trucks involved in the chain of accidents. Their drivers stood arguing with a growing army of cops and with each other. On the grassy bank, cops swarmed all over Gino Parini's white Mafia-wagon and I could barely make out Tinkerton and his goons working their way back uphill to LaSalle.

  “That guy Tinkerton doesn’t like you very much,” she said.

  “You believe me now?”

  “Jamal was right. He's got you in his cross-hairs.” She still had her arm wrapped around mine and she tightened her grip even more. It didn’t look to me as if she had any intention of letting go. I knew it, she knew it, and we both knew the other one knew it, but neither of us wanted her to take it away. There was a newly found warmth and energy there and God, I had to admit it felt good. It had been a long time.

  Behind us, some of the police cars had already turned around. Lights flashing, they raced north on LaSalle, trying to catch up. On the busy city streets at that time of day, they stood no chance. Sometimes though, if they couldn’t do anything else, cops just liked to make noise. Eventually, Tinkerton would send a small army after us. The man had no shortage of anger or motivation, but he had no idea where we were going or where we might get off. For the moment anyway, we were free.

  “How long do you want to stay on this thing?” she asked.

  “You're the local expert, you got any suggestions?”

  “The El drops underground in another mile and turns into a subway. It runs north under State Street into the Loop. We could get off at Randolph and run like hell.”

  “Running would not be a good thing. We want to be quick, but melt into the crowd.”

  “I’m much better at melting,” she hugged my arm tighter.

  I looked down at her, exasperated. “Are you going to keep making suggestive comments like that, because…”

  “Hey, I’m just fooling around, Talbott,” she said, not backing off an inch. “So lighten up. You sound like an old man.”

  “I am an old man. How old are you? God, you are sixteen, aren’t you?” She smacked me on the arm. “That was to show you I do have a sense of humor.”

  “Humor? Well, they might lock you up for a lot of things, but you are way too late for statutory rape,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m twenty-four.”

  “And I’m thirty-four and the longer I hang around with you, I’m not sure I’ll ever see thirty-five.”

  “Then I’ve got a lot of work to do to ‘young’ you up, don’t I?” She squeezed my arm tighter again. “’Cause I’m not ready to act thirty.”

  The train rolled on north through another station. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll get off at Randolph.”

  “We could go back to my aunt’s. And I have a couple of girlfriends out in the suburbs I could call. Or we could hop on another subway and head north to Evanston.”

  “Bringing in your friends would be a bad idea, but what’s in Evanston?”

  “My Toyota. I have it parked up there in a rental garage. It isn’t much, but it’s a car and it can get us to Milwaukee, or Peoria, or St. Louis, or somewhere.”

  “No, Tinkerton would have already checked on vehicle registrations and they’d have an APB out on your car and the license plates.”

  “Well, we can take the El out to O'Hare or Midway and catch a plane.”

  “You and me make it through airport security? That won’t work.”

  “Let me think,” she said. “There are some commuter railroads that come into the Loop. The Northwestern Station is about a half mile away. Or we could run over to Michigan Avenue and catch the Illinois Central or the South Shore.”

  “The South Shore? Where does that go?”

  “South, dummy! Well, actually it swings east around the south shore of the lake into Indian
a, as far as South Bend, I think. Eddie took me there once, to a Notre Dame game.”

  “Eddie? Did he go to Notre Dame?”

  “Get real. His golden dome was above his ears. No, Eddie was a gambler and he liked to watch his money work. He bet like Pete Rose and he lied even worse. He would tell me he quit and then put down serious money on a half-dozen football games the next weekend. The bastard borrowed money from everybody, always looking for that big score. He hocked my camera once. I chipped his front tooth over that one.”

  “A real sweetheart.”

  “Yeah, he was a walk in the park. We had our moments though,” she smiled wistfully. “They lasted about a week and a half after the honeymoon, when the love muffin disappeared and I woke up next to the real Eddie.”

  Through the window, I watched the train drop lower and lower until we disappeared inside a tunnel and everything went black. The lights came on inside the car and the rumbling clickety-clack of steel wheels reverberating off the concrete drowned out her voice. Outside, the first sign for the Randolph Street station flashed past.

  “Is this where we get off?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  I turned her around so she faced me and looked into her eyes. “Look, you can stay on the train and ride it to the end of the line, you know.”

  “Then what?” she asked. “Go home and feed the cat? Clean the kitchen? Bury the stiff in the rear yard? I don’t think so.”

  “If you come with me, we’re getting out of Chicago. I don’t know where we’re going, probably to Boston, and I don’t how long it will be before you ever get back here.”

  “Promise? Because I’m bone tired of Chicago, Talbott. It’s flat worn me out and there’s nothing here I want to go back to. Frankly, Boston sounds pretty good to me. Anywhere sounds pretty good, so stop trying to talk me out of it.” She still had her arm through mine and she pulled me out the door onto the platform. “I’m coming, are you?”

  I pulled my arm free and ran down the platform toward the staircase, but she blew by me at a dead run. I ran after her, but I never stood a chance. In seconds, we were up on the street, walking away, and blending into the fast-moving crowd. The truth was I was glad she was with me. I also knew it was stupid and very dangerous, but I couldn’t stop myself anymore. She was so alive, and I was so tired of being alone.