by Bryan James
It was too much. He had gone too far. She set down the cup and turned on him.
“I said I’m not going to see him again. If he comes around I’ll be nice and if it turns into something else I’ll get a restraining order.”
Chapter 23 - Two Targets
Tim and Elliot weren’t to be trusted but they were his two new contacts in town, Conrad told himself, and as long as they had reason to fear him they’d have to pay up. He rolled to his feet and sat up on the side of the bed to rub his face, then stretch his arms and get up from the bed. He adjusted himself in his underwear and looked to the closet where he felt like someone was watching him. Get a good show? He checked the nightstand drawer to make sure his pistol was still there.
Even if they don’t have the money they have to know someone who does, he thought. They have to have connections either higher up or lower down. He got his cell phone from his jeans on the floor and checked the time. It was after one o’clock in the afternoon. He looked to the illuminated window with drawn white curtains and heard the sounds of birds chirping before he looked back to the phone and found Elliot’s number and called. He pressed the phone to his ear and opened the drawer again to find his bottle of pills. He popped the lid off and carefully knocked two Ritalin out onto the surface. He sat and picked up a small mortar and pestle from beside the bed. There was still no answer. He placed the pills in the mortar and began to slowly grind them down with the pestle. He heard a voicemail message so he set the phone down, poured the powder on to the table, pulled a straw out of the drawer. He snorted a line.
There was the initial burn in his nose and then he felt the drug waking him up, kick starting his brain and nervous system. He looked to the phone and realized it was still on. He picked it up in a panic to delete the message and any evidence it might hold but wasn’t sure which button he should press.
“Fuck it,” he said before ending the call.
He found Tim’s number. There was an answer on the second ring.
“Hello?” Tim asked.
“Hey this is Conrad. Elliot gave me your number. We uh, had that little party yesterday. Listen I have some catering supplies and I thought we might hang out today, maybe invite some other people. What do you say?”
“I say it sounds like fun,” Tim replied. “Where are you?”
“I’m at my place right now but I can meet you somewhere soon,” Conrad replied.
“Meet us at the gas station like yesterday. I have to get something to eat and we have some errands to run.”
Conrad smelled himself for the first time and he was pretty ripe. He cringed at the odor and turned his nose away disgusted at himself.
“How about an hour? I have to get cleaned up first.”
“No problem,” Tim said.
“See you then,” Conrad replied before ending the call.
He looked to the closet again, pointed the gun there. My finger is on the trigger, he thought, I could shoot you full of holes. The thoughts seemed ridiculous. There was no one there. He laughed to himself and put the gun away but opened the drawer just after he closed it and looked at it.
Maybe I should take it with me? Maybe I’ll need this to give them something to fear? He shook his head. If he got picked up with a gun, seen with a gun, then it was all over. No, he had to be reasonable at first, go unarmed. There was nothing to prove completely in this second meeting, but if they double crossed him and he could make it back, then it was all over for them. He smiled and closed the drawer.
Thirty minutes later he was ready to go out. He assembled his collection of pills in a satchel bag, except for a few Ritalin he left in his night stand and headed out of the house to his car. He threw the bag in the passenger seat, thought better of it, and moved it to the trunk. He checked himself in the rear view mirror and barely looked around at anything else before he drove away.
He had barely seen Simon or his mother in the last day or so, he thought, definitely didn’t see Heather or Kevin. He thought about DJ working at the bar, about his ass and the way he looked in a white shirt. He felt his mind drifting as he drove but he told himself it didn’t matter much because these were easy roads to manage.
It was easy to get to the gas station. He only waited a few seconds for a car to pass before making the left hand turn into the lot. He pulled to the side of the store where he saw Tim and Elliot standing against the wall. Their clothes were all wrong but he couldn’t help but think of Jay and Silent Bob. He let out a laugh and shook his head before turning off the car and exiting it.
“What’s so funny?” Tim asked.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it, something I was thinking about on the car ride over. Did you get something to eat?”
“Microwavable burrito,” Tim answered.
Conrad let out another laugh but felt his own hunger pain and told them he’d have to get something to eat. He made his way inside and began to look for something to eat but was quickly annoyed by the place’s lack of diversity, especially for good food.
Just another small town gas station, he thought. He was about to give up and leave when he thought about the burrito. It’s something, he thought before getting himself one and using the open microwave in the corner. He waited and listened to the other customers and cashier who talked about the weather and other small town subjects. I hate this place, he thought, I wish it would burn down.
The microwave dinged and he took out his burrito, used two napkins to carry it to the counter along with a bottle of soda. He paid and exited the store, back around the side to where Tim and Elliot stood. He moved to stand next them and lifted the burrito to his nose. It smelled of beans and seemed to have enough integrity that it wouldn’t fall apart in his hands. He ate in mostly silence until there were only a few bites left and he was feeling full. He looked at the rest of it disgusted by what he had just ingested. He carried it to a nearby garbage can and threw it away, went back to Tim and Elliot and signaled for them to get into the car.
Tim sat in the passenger seat and Elliot in the back. Conrad drove the familiar path back to their place and parked in a nearby lot. He was about to get out but something didn’t feel right so he stopped and signaled for them to wait. He was worried they just wanted to party.
“Listen, I have some pills, grade A pharmaceuticals, but I’m not looking to party. I’m looking to get rid of them.”
Tim looked to Elliot, then back to Conrad and nodded.
“I have a bag full. I want to do one big deal. I need to get out of this town.”
Conrad nodded.
“Do you know one person or a few people who might be interested?”
“Well, I’m not sure,” Elliot said.
“Of course,” Tim replied. “But this isn’t some kind of undercover thing right? You’re not going to bring in some detectives or something?”
Conrad thought about the day before and waking up in his underwear. He thought about Tim naked in the bathtub and Elliot in the lawn chair in the living room. He would have been the worst undercover cop.
“No cops,” Conrad said.
“Good, I just had to ask. I mean it’s too good to be true. How much are you looking to make?”
“I have close to a thousand dollars worth but I’ll let it go for seven-fifty or eight hundred. I’m not expecting to get city prices here.”
“That’s still a lot of product and a lot of cash,” Tim said.
“Can you do it?”
Tim and Elliot looked each other in the eye. Conrad felt uncomfortable by their silence but he was also desperate. Part of him wanted to bail right then on the idea but he remembered other times and similar situations that worked out just fine. You can’t control the details, he told himself, just let it go.
“We can do it,” Tim said.
“How soon?”
“Today probably,” Tim said, “this evening for sure. We can get the cash to you by like eight o’clock.”
“The bag is in the trunk. I’ll call you every hour to
see how things are going. Don’t burn me on this.”
Tim let out an nervous, annoyed laugh.
“Of course not,” he said.
Elliot got out. Tim got out. Conrad used the lever inside the car to open the trunk and watched in his mirrors as Tim retrieved the bag and the two of them walked away. Don’t burn me on this, he thought, I know where you live. He waited until they were out of the lot before he drove away and back to the house. He pulled to his now usual parking spot and got out of the car. He looked up the house and all its windows.
There was nothing there for him. Simon was some pathetic shell of a man and his mother was worse. She was the remains of some Sunday School teacher. He decided he needed a drink and wanted to go to a bar. He thought about DJ and knew he couldn’t go there but he had seen other bars in town. But he wasn’t going to go unprepared. He thought about the gun and decided to retrieve it. The house felt empty as he moved through it. The pistol was right where he left it. He made sure the safety was on before he slid it into his pocket. He got back into his car and drove away slowly as he thought about the bars he had seen and trying to map his way to one. He ended up back in town and only a few blocks from Tim and Elliot’s apartment. He found an empty lot and parked, headed into the bar.
The place was nearly empty with only a few regulars spread out at the bar. A television was on but there were no other noises, no clack of pool balls, no sound of a jukebox, and no talking. He went to a stool and sat, an old man stood trying to occupy his time behind the bar approached him. He ordered a beer.
Drinking at the bar made it easy to check every hour on Tim and Elliot’s progress but when he called Tim said little about who he was calling or how long it would take. After a few drinks Conrad began to snack on bar food like chips, jerky, and hard boiled eggs until he felt he was too intoxicated. He made his way into the restroom. The place was clean enough but wasn’t well maintained, the stall was missing a door. He laughed at the sight of it. He realized he was too drunk, looked at himself in the mirror, and realized he had to compose himself. He nodded at his reflection.
“Get a grip,” he said.
He stood up straight, cleared his throat, and headed back out to the bar where he asked the bartender for a place nearby to eat. The bartender said there was a Chinese place down the block.
“I thought that place was closed. I mean it doesn’t look open for business.”
“Trust me it’s open,” the man said.
Conrad pushed away from the bar and headed out the front door into the blinding sunlight. He stopped for a moment to shield his eyes and get his bearings. He thought he knew where the Chinese place was so he started to head in that direction. He spotted it a few storefronts away but it still looked closed. He laughed it off and headed there anyway. The door was surprisingly open and when he entered he found two couples were inside eating. He made his way to a table away from everyone else.
The waitress looked like a daughter. The two people working the register and waiting for his order looked like parents, a husband and wife couple. He ordered by numbers next to pictures on a menu. He thought for a moment the other couples were staring at him and he realized he probably looked as drunk as he felt so he made an effort to sit up. When his soft drink arrived he drank it down quickly and asked for a refill. The young woman was happy to oblige.
The food came hot and well done. Every little town around there, his own home town even, had a Chinese place just like this. He had once theorized they were all connected somehow, owned by the same people, maybe as a front for a criminal organization to launder money. He ate until he felt stuffed and somewhat more sober. The couples had left by the time he was done. He called Tim.
“Hey man still no word. It might take longer than I promised. What about tomorrow morning? Could I get it to you then?”
Conrad looked around and saw that only the owners remained so he felt a little confident in letting himself go.
“You promised me today. I want my fucking money or I want my stuff back. One or the other. You have until eight tonight and then I’m going to collect.”
There was a pause and Conrad thought for sure he had them.
“Don’t fucking threaten me. You’re a nobody in this town. No one knows you. We’re doing you a favor so if I say it takes more time then it takes more time. And don’t you fucking threaten me. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
Conrad ended the call, pushed his food dishes away, and got to his feet. He picked up the bill, pulled a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and dropped them both on the table before he walked away. He headed back out to the sidewalk, down to the bar. Inside he ordered another beer and sat on a stool. He felt angry but he also felt something else. He felt like things were falling into place, a puzzle was being revealed to him. He knew what he had to do.
He drank the beer methodically as he thought over his options. There weren’t many when doing something illegal. And he thought back to Marcus, he thought back to Dylan, and how he was a fugitive. Murder one, he thought, that could be life. No, he thought, not for me, I’m getting the fuck out of here. He had two more beers and headed to his car but the motion and the full stomach weren’t agreeing. He was almost there when he felt the need to vomit. The contents of his stomach came up without much protest and he spit them out behind the driver’s side tire of his car. Once, twice, and he fell to his knees, one hand in the gravel and dirt. He spit out all he could, wiped away the saliva and mess from his mouth, pushed himself to his feet.
He got to his car, unlocked it, and got inside, stuck his key in the ignition but was afraid to start driving so he relaxed in the seat. He was asleep in seconds. It was a deep, restless sleep of only darkness and quiet for a few hours. He awoke to the sound of people talking beside his car. He was scared for a moment that it was the cops or that the people had seen him and would call the cops but when he looked they seemed too preoccupied with their own lives, and drunk as well. He looked around to see other people getting into their cars and realized the bar must have closed. He waited until most people had driven away before he started his car. He was tempted to drive back to Simon’s house, get into bed, and fall asleep, but as he thought about the day he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
The drive to the lot where he had dropped off Tim and Elliot was simple and he didn’t even see one police car. He pulled into a spot and turned off the car, patted the gun in his pocket. He got out and dashed across the lot. There were no cars on the street so it was easy to cross to the building. He made his way inside and to their apartment. He knocked on the door and pulled out his gun. They are going to give me everything, he told himself, I’m not going to be burned by two small town thugs.
The door opened and he saw his first target. Bam! The gunshot was louder than he expected and echoed down the hallway and into the room in a sickening, distorted way. It was too loud, not at all like in the bar. His ears hummed in pain. But he had to push ahead. He stepped into the apartment and saw Tim scrambling for cover behind the far end of the couch. He fired into the armrest hoping to shoot through it but it didn’t seem to work. He held the gun on his target as he advanced. Tim peeked over the couch, then ducked quickly. Conrad thought he had him but Tim dashed from behind the couch, across the living room, and towards the bedrooms.
Conrad tracked him with his gun but resisted the urge to shoot. He didn’t have many bullets. He saw Tim was faster than he had expected and there was a real chance he might get away so he ran after him. Tim was about to get the door closed when Conrad hit into it full force pushing his way into the bedroom and knocking Tim onto his back. He turned on the young man with his gun and the advantage of still being on his feet.
“Wait, wait,” Tim said.
“Where’s my fucking drugs?” Conrad demanded.
“In the closet, in the closet, I swear,” Tim said.
“Give them to me along with anything else you got, drugs and money, I want all of it.”
“Okay, okay,
” Tim said.
Conrad stepped back to let him get up, watched him move through the room to the closet where he pushed away some clothes to reveal a small safe. He opened the door without turning the dial once and stepped aside. Conrad moved closer but left enough distance that he could still shoot Tim if he needed to do it.
“Is that everything?”
“Yeah, yeah, everything is in there. I promise.”
Conrad took out the bottles of pills and put them in his bag, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted everything just like they had tried to do to him. He filled his bag with everything else that included some cash, jewelry, and a bag of marijuana. He looked to Tim who held up his hands in defeat. Just walk away and keep walking, Conrad told himself, but then he thought about Elliot’s body, the gunshot, and possible neighbors. He thought about Tim testifying. Bam! One more shot and Tim fell clutching his stomach. He moved to the young man, aimed for his head and fired again.
Chapter 24 - Lucy Kleinman
Kevin was flat on his back on the bed in Heather’s room. He watched the spin of the ceiling fan, movement of light and shadow. There was an open box of pizza next to him missing three slices. His one piece, barely eaten was on a plate across the room on a dresser. He wanted to ask her opinion about Conrad, but more importantly Thad’s recommendation about Conrad.
“You know Thad,” he said.
“Your boyfriend,” she said.
“It’s just that, well, we’ve been together for a while. I thought it was going really good and we had something but then he kind of threw this curve ball at me. I was telling him about Conrad and how he came out to me and was hitting on me. I didn’t really think anything about it. Maybe, I was just bragging but he starts telling me about how I should go for it. He was encouraging me to date the guy, or something. He thought I should have more experiences.”
“Do you want to?”
He looked to his foot as he felt his face warm at the question.
