by J. A. Marley
“Let me explain…”
And Danny did. He laid the whole job out as he saw it in his mind. Everything from start to finish, even down to how he thought all the parties would react.
And when he was done, Ciaran poured them both another shot.
“Jaysus, if I didn’t know you were a feckin’ Englishman, I’d swear you were a cute enough hoo’er to be Irish. God bless you, Danny Felix. Let’s get into trouble together…”
And for the second time that night, they chinked glasses.
30
Finishing Touches
Woody’s strip joint was a little sad even at the best of times. When all the neon was switched on and the music was pumping, it had a robust dinginess about it. But during daylight hours, when the house lights were on, and the doors were open to let some fresh air in, it seemed more down at heel.
That day it was more than fit for purpose. Danny was in front of possibly the strangest crew he had ever put together. Slow Tina had helped to gather this rag-tag band, so he shouldn’t have been too surprised at the variety of the bunch. Still, he hadn’t worked with a six-foot transvestite, a huge black guy who was as camp as Christmas and another eight peroxide blonde women of varying sizes all at once before.
Rounding out the contingent were Ciaran, Slow Tina and the guy who played the music and fixed the lighting for this august establishment. His name was Rusty.
Danny had just laid out most, not quite all, of the plan to them. He’d walked each of them through their piece of the operation, using floor plans of the convention centre, images courtesy of Google Earth all printed off at the local library in Islamorada.
Ciaran also went through the route that the armoured cash van would take. He had spent three days identifying and then tracking the right van, following it from base to pick up, to drop off, to base. The drivers, to his mind, had been lazy. They hadn’t bothered to vary their approaches, not even once, especially as their route took them past ‘The Salty Donut’ shop in Wynwood.
“Jaysus, but they love their donuts, these boys…”
As usual, questions had been asked, answers given. Scenarios were discussed and debated. By the end of the two-hour session, everyone agreed that they were about to take on a great adventure.
Danny praised them all for their willingness and enthusiasm, while assuring them that they were all at the low-risk end. The high-risk portion was preserved for Ciaran and himself.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, truly thank you. Two last things. We have just four days to go until the ‘Holy Joes’ start their gig at the convention centre and a further two days until we spring into action. In the interim, please, keep your heads down and your noses clean. I don’t want to be losing a team member this late in the day. And finally, here’s the uniform we are all going to wear.”
Ciaran started to move amongst them, handing out T-shirts, baseball caps and sunglasses.
The huge black guy held his T-shirt up, reading aloud: “IJESUS. Who y’all kidding? I never did like a man with a beard.”
Ciaran instinctively stroked his own ginger fuzz at that point.
The baseball caps all had a diamante cross on the brow and “Jesus is my homeboy” embroidered over the airgap at the back.
“We must keep the caps and the sunglasses on at all times, even you guys who are performing on the big night. There are too many security cameras in this place, so we need to hide in numbers. The hats and glasses will do that for us, since most of the cameras are in the ceiling void. There can be no customisation of the hats and T-shirts, and no way out of wearing them.” Danny had on his most serious face.
“And last, but not least, here is a little pre-game ‘thank you’. You will get more of the same after the job, I promise.” Ciaran was distributing again. This time, it was envelopes containing ten thousand dollars for each of the assembled team members.
“If anybody has any last-minute doubts or concerns between now and the day, Tina will be glad to help, and she knows how to get a hold of me. That’s it, everyone. Stay safe. See you at the convention centre.”
The little group gathered their things, and Danny went over to talk to Slow Tina. “Tina, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been great.”
“Honey chile, with this, you’ve already started to thank me handsomely.” She waved the envelope at him as though it were a fan. “And besides, I haven’t had this much excitement since one of my gentlemen callers introduced me to one of those rampant rabbit contraptions. My, that was an afternoon of entertainment.”
Danny couldn’t help but laugh. “I am sure it was, Tina. And you’re happy with your part of the plan? Not worried about putting your little dog, Morty, at risk?”
“That liddle, damned dog has more grit and determination than any so-called shining knight I ever met, sweetie. We’ll get your job done, no doubt. By the way, that other individual you wanted to meet? He should be here any time now. I explained to him you needed his assistance for which he would be well remunerated. He’s a salty old fool, but I know a greedy boy when I see one. He’ll be here. Now please, excuse me. I have to run. My chiropodist and I have a hot date. I flash him a liddle ankle, and he assesses my bunions. Don’t grow old, dear. It really is a bore.”
And with that, the oldest stripper in Florida, possibly America, was out the door.
Rusty the DJ came over, a CD in his hand. “I can convert this to an MP3 file. It will make my job a lot easier on the night.”
“Thanks, Rusty. Just as long as you’re clear about when and how.”
“Clear as day, mister, clear as day. I must say, I am a little curious. How did you manage to get a hold of the preacher’s own running order for the night? That’s smooth work, right there.”
“Rusty, let’s just say the Lord moves in mysterious ways.”
“He surely does. God bless us all. And thank you for this envelope. My wife has been dropping hints about a vacation to Cabo for months. You have just made that possible. Every time she treats me nice down there? I’ll be thinking of you, mister.”
Danny didn’t know if that was the type of tribute he wanted, but he said thanks, all the same.
Once everyone had gone, Rusty locked the building and left Ciaran and Danny in the parking lot.
“Do ye think they’ll be okay?’
“I think so, Ciaran. Tina is a woman of many talents who has lived many lives. Despite her artistic endeavours, I suspect this might not be her first ‘job’.”
“D’ye know, I thought that too.”
“And all we have left to do is meet the last piece of our puzzle.”
“And then, I can look after Marvin, the dirty wee fecker.”
Before Danny could respond, a huge lorry pulled into the parking lot, festooned in lights and pulling along behind it a trailer that was painted red and white, the Coca-Cola logo bright and shining in the sunlight.
“And here he is. Give me that last envelope, Ciaran, and let’s see if our truck driver friend here will help us.”
31
Life Changer
When Marvin J. Quantick III left his home to go to work that day, little did he know that his life was about to be fucked with.
The radio was playing Manic Monday. The DJ was trying to be ironic, blinding the working-Joe to the misery of another mundane week with the inanely chirpy song. Marvin drummed his fingers along to the tune, remembering how hot Susanna Hoffs had been when she recorded the song with The Bangles.
Who could blame Prince for gifting her the song? I mean she was… damn hot. His next thought was also a damn, as the stoplight he was hoping to pass through on the first go changed and blocked his progress. It was the same every morning, but, somehow, Marvin had forgotten. He happened to look down, noticing a stain on his plaid patterned tie, one he had never spotted before. He silently mouthed the word “fuck”, licked his finger and started to rub at it in vain. That was when he heard it. TAP. Something metallic on his car window.
Marvin lo
oked up, expecting to see some street seller trying to offer him oranges or flowers or to wipe his windshield. At first, his brain couldn’t quite compute what he was looking at, but once it did, Marvin felt his guts turn to liquid and a sweat break out on his brow. It was a gun. A big one. TAP. The holder gestured with it, signalling they wanted the window opened.
Marvin knew he was fucked. There was another car in front of him, at the lights, with many more behind. The man with the gun sat astride a huge Harley Davidson, blocking that route out, more traffic on his inside.
TAP TAP TAP.
This time, the motorbike guy cocked the gun. With trembling fingers, Marvin lowered the window. Just a crack, not all the way. As if that made a blind bit of difference.
The motorbike man leant over. Marvin could see for the first time he had a bandana across his nose and mouth, mirrored aviator shades and a cropped crash helmet, the type that looked like the one the Germans used to wear in World War Two.
“Pull the fuck over at the next junction, or I’ll ride up and blow yer brains out. Nod if you understand.”
Marvin was now in the full-on shakes. In a daze, he slowly nodded. The light changed, the cars began to move forward. He looked ahead, trying to see if there was a way he might drive off, evade this madman. Had he cut the biker up? Had he almost wiped him out with his Jetta, to make him angry enough to draw a gun and threaten him?
But Marvin knew. Between the weight of the traffic and speed and agility of the bike, he knew that if he tried to make a break for it, the Harley would catch him, and things would go south from there.
So, he did as he was told. Switching to the inside lane, the bike matching his move, he stayed alongside.
The next turning was the entrance to an abandoned gas station. The motorbiker moved slightly ahead and used his front wheel to guide Marvin into it. As he pulled in, Marvin’s heart was hammering in his chest. He felt his guts churning, his mind raced. What the fuck had he done? What was going on?
As he pulled to a stop, he contemplated abandoning the car, to fling the door open and run like hell. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, his brain shut it down, a self-loathing, small voice laughing in his own ear. You? Run? Give me a fucking break.
And then, it was too late. TAP TAP TAP. The motorbiker was at the passenger door of the Volkswagen, demanding to be let in.
“Listen… Mister… I… if… I cut you up, or crowded you on the road, I… I didn’t intend…”
“Open the fuckin’ door.”
The gun looked awfully big and black to Marvin. He’d never owned one. He’d never even shot one. Lots of his friends did. They said it was for personal safety. He now regretted he hadn’t taken up their invitations to learn how to handle one.
Noticing the furious shake in his hand, he reached out and pressed a button, the doors clicking open.
The motorbiker sat next to him. Marvin couldn’t take his eyes off the gun. It was laid there, in the biker’s lap. The guy wasn’t even breathing heavy. He was cool, calm. Not angry. What was this about?
“Hello, Marvin. How are ye today?”
“What…? I…I don’t understand.”
“Look, ye can calm down. If this little chat goes as it should do, I’ll have no need to use this on ye. We clear, Marvin?”
Marvin, petrified though he was, managed a nod in agreement. “How… how do you know my name?”
“Ach, Jaysus, Marvin. It’s not just your name I know. I know you have a wife… I know she drives a green piece of shite car. I know where ye work. I know ye have a wee packed lunch every day at yer desk… see? I know lots about ye. Yer wife goes to the gym a lot, doesn’t she?”
Marvin stammered. “What’s this got to… g... g... g... got to do with her? You leave her alone!”
“Now don’t be getting all ‘ants in yer pants’, Marv. I know ye love yer wife. She keeps herself trim for ye. Works hard at it, she does. And ye probably worship the ground she walks on. But sometimes… sometimes, a wee wife just isn’t enough, now is it?”
“What are you talking about…? I don’t…”
And then, Marvin stopped cold. A thought had just crashed to the front of his consciousness. His mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but it created an involuntary croaking noise instead.
The biker opened a pocket in his cargo shorts and brought out what looked like a photo, but Marvin couldn’t be sure, as it was face down. But Marvin knew in his heart of hearts it was a photo. He knew before the biker turned it over that it was a photo of him.
“Sometimes, ye just need a wee bit of fun on the side, don’t ye? Like this, maybe.”
The biker brought the picture up in front of Marvin’s face. He was staring at himself. Buck naked. Face down on a massage table.
“That… that could be… anyone…”
“Ach, now. That’s not what Anastasia says. She says yer a regular. She says ye bring her little gifts, try to touch her up, now and again. Mind, who could blame ye.”
Marvin’s heart sank even further. The biker had another photo, this one of Anastasia kissing him goodbye at the front door, wearing nothing but a smile and probably some of that perfume he bought her. Now that he thought of it, he’d wondered that day about how brazen she had been at the door. She’d normally hidden behind it. She usually didn’t even give him a kiss.
“But, Marvin. This need not be anything more than a bump in the road for ye. As I said at the start of this chat, we can both be calm here.”
“How… how…”
“How did I stumble across all this info and lovely pictures?”
“No… I fuck… I fucking know how.”
Marvin spat the words out through gritted teeth. He felt like a fool. He’d blurred the lines between emotional connection and someone he paid to jerk him off twice a week. What a cliché.
“Then what? If not that, Marvin?”
“How… much? How much do you want?”
“Oh. No, Marvin. You misunderstand me. I just need a few wee favours. Nothing much. And, if you do as I ask, then all this… unpleasantness can be forgotten. Mind you, by the look of those tatas,” the biker waved the photo at him, “I’m not so sure it was all unpleasant for ye, eh? But if ye don’t do what I ask, I think ye might have some explaining to do to that wife of yours. Oh, and if you try and go to the police? I’ll just hunt ye down and kill ye. Clear?”
“What do you want?” Marvin mumbled, resignation descending upon him.
“Ah, sure yer a grand lad. Now. It’s about where ye work…”
The end of the afternoon had been marked by dark clouds gathering over Danny’s house. He could feel the atmosphere change in the air, as he rhythmically punched out sequences on the bag in his carport.
He hadn’t been in Florida all that long, but he still recognised the tell-tale signs of an oncoming storm. A long shower followed by a brief update from Ciaran when he arrived back from Miami Beach rounded out his day. Danny took to his favourite seat on the porch and said goodbye to his friend as he descended the steps of the house.
“I’m only nipping down to Woody’s… Ye know… bit more research, like.”
“Really? Nothing to do with that bottle blonde who was fluttering her false eyelashes at you during the meeting the other day?”
Ciaran looked bashful for a moment, then pulled himself upright. “A man has needs! Yer all right, ye’ve had a bit of tomfoolery lately. I’m still waiting.”
Danny reached into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out the keys to his jeep. “Here, take this. It’s going to storm. And you might need a roof over your head as you drive to her place.”
Danny tossed him the key ring and Ciaran caught it one-handed. “Yer a good man, Danny Felix. I don’t care what everyone else says…”
Once the taillights of the jeep had faded off into the night, Danny poured himself a large Blanton’s and sat back, beginning to think through every aspect of the job for the umpteenth time. Soon, he could hear the first ticks of fat raindr
ops on the roof, a thunder rumble not too far off in the distance. The night sky pulsed every so often, electricity trying to find its way from the clouds to earth. Danny stopped thinking just for a moment, sat back and enjoyed God’s light show. The thunder crept closer, growing in volume. Which meant he didn’t hear the car creeping up his drive. A small Subaru. At that moment, the heavens chose to open. One thing Danny had learned was that when it rained in Florida, it really rained. Great sheets of water tumbling out of the sky, filling the senses, clearing the atmosphere.
The Subaru stopped just shy of the steps, and Danny’s heart leapt as he saw it and recognised who was behind the wheel. He went down the steps and met Amparo as she stepped out of the small car.
“Hello, you. I didn’t think I’d see you again. Let’s get undercover.”
But as he reached for her, she stopped him, grabbing his arm and holding it tight.
She pulled him directly in front of her, both of them getting drenched in the storm.
Amparo stood on her tiptoes and had to half shout to be heard over the clatter of the rain. “I watched your film. Out of Sight? You were right, it’s great. And yes… it is a very sexy scene. J-Lo and Clooney make it really hot.”
“I’m glad you liked it… Why don’t we…”
“Cállate, hombre. I’m not finished. What I wanted to say was, I loved the movie, but it’s just a movie. I’m a cop. You’re playing fast and loose with the rules. When I joined the sheriff’s, I made a promise. A promise that I would never get caught up in the kind of shit that mi hermano did. So, I can’t be some kind of movie romance for you. Some kind of fairy tale ending.”
“Amparo… I…”
“Shhhh. But what I can do, is this. I can find out. I can find out, just for one night, what I might be missing.”
“Amparo, let’s talk about this.”
“Talk? Madre de Dios! Danny, let me be claro, okay? This isn’t for you. This is for me. This is so I don’t spend months, maybe years, wondering ‘what if?’. Now, take me inside and rip these wet clothes off me.”
