by Andrew Birch
“You just called me…” he tailed off, wondering what the hell had just happened.
Tay was smart. She knew what had happened. Jack had happened. He was onto her over the drug deal, and now he knew about this shmuck offering her a way out. Damn damn damn. This guy didn’t really matter, but she knew Jack was royally pissed about the drugs.
Larry told her what he’d said, and she put the rest of it together. Tay now realised that Larry Burke’s business card hadn’t fell out of her pocket, Jack had seen her take it and got it from her. Protective. No, more than protective, he was smothering her. Trying to own her. Fuck trying to protect me, she thought, I don’t need protecting. So Jack knew about the drug scam. And he knew about Larry. How long before he found out about the credit card scam she was running through the bar. Things had been going ok, but Tay realised that this was what she did. Built a life, and then tore it down.
She thought what to do. The Maranzano family hated her already for her antics with that car eight years ago. And now she’d ripped off a drug shipment that had been tainted and was causing shit for their family. Carl with the glasses would put pressure on Jack to have her killed or hurt. Normally, she knew jack would have refused, but she had lied to his face. She couldn’t predict what he would do. She didn’t, in all honesty, care for him enough to risk her life finding out, and so she made an arrangement to meet Larry the following morning. Then she worked fast. She got back in the jeep and went to an internet café. Public place. No trouble here. Then , logging into jacks online banking, she transferred five hundred thousand of his money in to her own bank account. This took her a while, as she had to move it in separate amounts, to dozens of dummy accounts she’d set up years ago for the credit card fraud business. Then she went to her apartment and packed her one or two remaining things. She sat back and sighed. This was fucked up.
Tay slept in the jeep, behind an alley on 14th street. She’d dumped her phone in a trash can a mile away, so there would be no GPS to track her. Larry had bought the plane ticket for her, that had been her final phone call before trashing the phone. And now, here she was, with five hundred thousand of Jack Mason’s money, running to the airport to escape her gilded cage. She didn’t want to be some gangsters bitch. Groucho had once told her that rich people collect people like they do possessions, but they always remain merely possessions, as the only thing the rich worshipped was being rich, and the fear of one day becoming poor. The very same reason that the prison guards had not been trusted with any of Tay’s business affairs.
The airport seemed quiet. She hung out at the front, trying to look cool and smoke a cigarette. Where the fuck was Larry. Then she saw a guy approach. Tay panicked. She’d left the gun in the jeep, unable of course, to smuggle it onto the plane, and she missed its comforting presence. The guy came towards her, and she panicked.
“Got a light, miss?” he asked.
She breathed a sigh of relief and she flicked him her Ronson. He took his time lighting the cigarette,
“Nice morning for travelling”, he said amiably.
Normally, she would have shot the shmuck straight down for hitting on her, but he was useful cover, in case Jack’s goons came looking for her.
“Yeah”, she said, its…”
But the man broke in to her sentence,
“Larry isn’t coming”, he said just as amiably, “he was…tied up. We can give you a lift in the van, if you like?”
He moved his jacket back to show his silenced pistol. Her heart pounded. Caught. Nowhere to run. Maybe there would be a chance later. She nodded,
“No need to get your panties in a bunch, baby”, she said smiling, “I’ll come nice and easy”
“Thought you might”, he smiled, “here”
He pulled out a shiny pair of police handcuffs from his belt,
“here…baby”, he said smiling, “why don’t you put these on for me.”
“I’m not really a jewellery person, sugar”, she drawled, but as he stepped nearer to her, she snapped the handcuffs closed around her wrists, securing her arms behind her back.
He led her quietly to a waiting van. They hopped inside and drove.
“Where we goin, baby?” she said.
“Pick up a friend”, eh said curtly.
They did pick up another guy along the way. Taylo9r sat in the van, expecting to be driven to a warehouse for questioning, but instead they turned and headed out of town, towards the quiet desert scrubland that lay outside the suburbs of the city. After an hour of try9ing to think of an escape plan and failing to think of anything plausible, Tay spoke up,
“I need to stop, boys”, she said in her best wheedling tone.
“We’ll be making our final stop; real soon”, said one of the men.
Tay didn’t like the sound of that. That word…’final’. A plan would have to be forthcoming and soon. Despite what she’d seen in movies and books, handcuffs were impossible to get out of, and they remained as firmly locked as before.
“I kinda need to stop now, boys?” said Tay again in her best and sultriest Southern drawl, “I gotta go to the little girls room”
“We ain’t stopping. Pee in your pants”
“ew” shuddered Tay, “that’s gross, you guys have a fetish for that sort of thing or what? Cos I’ll do just about anything”
That shut them up. Taylors eyes suddenly sparkled. Got em.
“Ain’t time for that now”, said the other man, almost there.
They pulled off the main freeway that had led them out of the city and into the desert scrubland. The side road continued for a mile or so, after a while the farms and the occasional gas station petered out until there were only iguanas and lonesome dogs for company. They turned again, and Tay began to panic. This was a mighty lonesome spot for two guys to be questioning a girl on her own. Finally, and literally in the middle of nowhere, the van pulled up. After leaving the van, the two men helped Tay, still handcuffed, out into the desert dust. With one man holding a gun to her head, the second guy undid her handcuffs, and handed her a small shovel,
“Dig”, he said simply.
“C’mon boys”, she said smiling, “there already is a grand canyon in Arizona. Besides, I never was any good at manual labour.”
“Just fucking dig, or I’ll shoot you” he said, his face a mask of serious.
“Hmm”, Tay thought, leaning on the shovel, “but then, if I’m dead, who’s gonna dig the fucking hole? You’re the one on the phone all the time while your buddy drives, so I’m guessing you’re the senior goon here”
“The two men looked at one another,
“So”, Taylor considered, “That makes you ‘it”, she pointed to the younger man in the nice dark suit.
“Nice suit”, she said running her fingers down his lapels, “hope the dirt and blood comes off. And sweat. Not that I don’t think you can do it, big guy, but digging a grave is a mighty hard job.”
“What the fuck man”, said the younger guy to the old guy, “I ain’t digging no fucking hole in this suit. I got to wear this to Marianne’s wedding next week”
“How weird”, broke in Tay, “I used to know somebody called Marianne years ago, children’s home volunteer”
“This is my niece”, he said, before catching sight of the older man, and then he was quiet.
“Listen bitch”, the older man snarled, “I said I was gonna shoot you, not kill you. It’ll be hard to dig a fucking hole with your ankles shot out.”
“Probably impossible”, Tay said, “either way boys, you’re digging my grave. Course, y’all could just let me go?
“Yeah, course we can”, said the younger man, “Carl would have us out here in the fucking desert.”
The big man shot him an evil look.
Tay thought hard. So0 Carl was the motherfucker who had decided to have her got rid of. Jack, being pissed at her, had obviously been unwilling to step in and piss off his high powered friends and save her life. Just like Allen. When the chips were down, the
y just didn’t give a fuck. Never side with her for fear of facing her fate right alongside her. It was the story of the guards all over again. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.
“I got a better idea, boys”, Tay said sweetly, “Y’all don’t kill me. And in return, I wire you fifty kay each, for your gas money. And I suck both of y’all off, right here. And I’m good, baby, real good. You’ll never have anyone so good on your dick ever again.
They were actually thinking about it. Dumb shmucks. Like she said before, men thought with their dicks.
“I mean”, she continued, “did either of you sign on to have pretty blonde girls killed in the desert. I’m guessing y’all didn’t think you’d be doing that when you were kids, did ya?
The men thought some more,
“Who gives a fuck man, said the younger guy, “we’ll tell Carl we killed her, Vincent is probably gonna get rid of Carl anyway, so it won’t matter.
“Suck us both off”, the older guy said, “and if you hurt us, I’ll smash each one of your pretty teeth one by one”
But Tay had no intention of even touching either man’s dick with her mouth. Kneeling, she unzipped his pants, and stroked his already erect member. Normal man, she thought ruefully. As she stroked it with her fingers, and grasped the head, she eased his hand that was holding the gun away from her head,
“Don’t need that, baby”, she cooed
She maneuverered the gun to what she thought was the right position, and she bent further to almost touch the tip of his erect member with her lips,
“Man”, moaned the guy, “You are good”
“It’s about to get better, baby”, she purred, then moved her right hand to the hand on his trigger finger. He didn’t notice, such was his anticipation of what was to happen. In fact, he was so excited she thought he was going to end up with a face full of it right there.
She squeezed his trigger finger, and he shot himself in the thigh. She rolled into him, turning the gun arm as he fell and squeezed again.
Bang
The second guy went down, but only in the shoulder. As he wrenched for his own gun muttering, she ripped the downed guys weapons free from his grasp, and fired again.
Bang
Right between the motherfucking eyes. How many of these guys did she have to kill, she wondered, before they realised not to fucking mess with her. She heard a moaning from behind her. Fat boy wasn’t dead. She turned and fired, right between the eyes.
“Goodnight, motherfucker” she said, and still holding the gun, left the bodies where they were and climbed back into the van. She was still leaving town. There was nothing left for her here now, not with the Maranzano family probably after her in a big way, and Jack Mason with his own scores to settle. So yeah, she was still leaving. Just not yet.
Chapter 19. Reckoning
Jack Mason sat in the bar, brooding. The sign said closed, Justine was still in the hospital and Taylor was….where Tay was he didn’t even want to think about it. Carl told him that had been orders from Maranzano to have her taken care of. Mainly for bringing the poisoned blow onto the street, but also for getting heat brought down onto the family. Jack had thought about this. He could fight against Carl, he could have even killed Carl right there where he stood, and the old Jack would have done, but for what? Taylor didn’t give a fuck for him. Plus if he did that, the entire east side mob would have been after him and for fucking what? A girl who he’d known for nine months and who had lied to him and double crossed him at every turn. Fuck her. He stroked Horace absent mindedly. Even Horace had betrayed him. Something had happened between the mangy black cat and Tay who had at once been enemies. Until her running out, they had suddenly become firm friends. Who knew?
It took her a while to get back into the city. Now she had to be careful. Public enemy number one, two and fucking three all rolled into one. And for what? One drug deal gone wrong? A couple of dead bandits and a business card for a Californian TV producer. And for that she had to be killed. Who did these fuckers think they were. Top dog, Tay thought. Top fucking dog. She’d abandoned the van, and shimmied up the drainpipe of the Foo Lim laundry warehouse nearby to watch the fun. The flames from the fire she’d set in the dumpster were now following the trail of gas that had come from the van. Instantly, the fire enveloped the building. She knew he was in there. Had checked that the light was on in the office and everything. Fuck him. One way or another, he was to fucking blame for having them goons try to kill her. The orders might not have come from him, but he certainly knew about it, and hadn’t done anything to stop it. That’s what life as a gangsters woman meant, she guessed. The instant that they suspect you of doing anything for yourself it was fucking blam and a hole in the desert. Right there and then as the fire took hold of the bar with Horace and Jack inside, she swore to never be anybody’s woman ever again. I’m gonna be in charge of me, she thought, no well-meaning guy wanting to protect me and have me as a little fucking woman. Fuck them.
The fire took hold properly now, and it wasn’t too long before the fire department sirens could be heard. The lights had gone out in the building now as the fire engulfed the basement bar and destroyed the offices behind. She heard explosions as the alcohol exploded. Fire trucks were on the scene now, but the blaze had engulfed the old building and was now threatening the next block. Taylor lay back on the roof of the warehouse and lit a cigarette.
The fire blazed until the early hours. By dawn, it was all over. One body had been pulled from the wreckage. Unrecognisable. She guessed the ashes of old Horace were in there somewhere. Poor little bastard. Least he go to where his kid was now, she thought. Climbing down from the warehouse roof, she went to go have a closer look at the wreckage. Apart forma few fire guys still making things safe and a resident cop, all was quiet. Half the building had fallen in as the timbers had burnt, the rest was a crumbling blackened ruin. Whatever the fuck else happened, the place would never be a bar again.
“Jesus”, she said to the cop who sat reading the early edition, “what happened?”
“Dunno ma’am”, he said honestly, “looks like the dumpster caught light and that set the rest of the building off. This whole block is like a tinderbox”
“God”, she said looking around, “hope nobody was hurt.”
“Just one guy”, he said sadly, “in the office. Figure he was the owner.”
Then it was done. She went to the back of the building where there was nobody around and stood and looked. Where the office had been, and next door where she’d seen the guy beaten was nothing left. The entire wall and ceiling had fallen in, and the whole building was perilously dangerous. Most likely the place would have to be demolished. Shame about old Horace.
At that moment, she jumped at a sound in the rubble nearby where the Fire department had piled it. Still mangy, with half his fur singed, and looking more worse for wear than ever was old Horace. He started at her with his one green eye, a malevolent look.
“I’m sorry buddy”, she said softly, “I tried to shout. But you wouldn’t come. I just had to finish that bastard. He tried to have me buried in the desert. What’s a girl to do? I wish I hadn’t had to do it, you were the only friend I ever had. Can you forgive me?”
Horace apparently decided that he could, and approached Tay. She picked him up and cuddled him, and after one or two protests, Horace began to settle.
“See”, she said, “everything worked out all right”. Now we can have a road trip all the way to LA. I got a friend there who’ll give me a job and keep you in fresh fish forever.”
“If you mean your lover Larry Burke”, a voice said behind her, “then I’m sorry to have to break it to you, but he’s dead.”
She turned rapidly. And drew in a sharp intake of breath. There before her stood Jack Mason, unscathed.
“You…” she stammered, “they carried you out in a body bag. How the fuck are you…”
“They carried Carl Maranzano out in a body bag”, he explained, a tone of anger in his voice.
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br /> “Carl fucking Maranzano”, he continued, “Tony Maranzano, who knows you by the way, is already in jail thanks to some shit between you and a body in the trunk of a car. Vincent, his eldest son is facing twenty years thanks to the fuck up with the poisoned crack and his other son, Carl…you just murdered him last night in a fire. Not to mention the four other guys, all of which you’ve shot. You’re quite the little fucking gangster”
“Hey baby”, she said putting Horace down and rising to her feet, “they come after me and I’ll put em down. Keep setting em up, and I’ll keep striking em out”
“I’m putting you down”, he said drawing his gun, “you realise how much shit you’ve brought to my door. How much grovelling I have to do to stop Vincent Maranzano from putting me in a fucking hole in the motherfucking ground. A fucking lot, that’s how much.
He drew his gun. It was the same gun that had been hers, he’d obviously retrieved the jeep and taken the weapon,
“As if that wasn’t enough”, he continued, “all my money is gone and the bar is…is…”
He kicked at the remains of a wall, and it collapsed, one of the bricks going near Horace and making him howl.
“And that fucker”, he said, angry now, that mangy no good piece of shit little fucker. You care for that piece of flea bitten crap more than you ever did me. I guess there was nothing you could take off him, huh? I guess it’s ok, Horace, I guess she don’t like the taste of your cat food.”
“Leave Horace alone, he’s ok”, said Taylor, wondering if she could go for her own gun. The cop was still nearby, and it was a risk.
“Horace is ok huh?” he said, “you care about him, huh? I cared about my bar, you burnt it to the ground, I cared about Justine, you made her OD and nearly die and now she’ll have nothing to do with either of us. Fuck you. Fuck Horace.”
He fired the gun, pumping five bullets in the old cats side. With a feeble mewl, Horace fell over on his side and died.
“That’s your last fucking mistake”, she said with genuine tears in her eyes, and while he stood seething, she drew the weapon she’d stole from the guys in the desert and pointed it at him.
