by Kirk Alex
The sun had set. It was early evening. Ortiz drained his can with great satisfaction. Handed the empty to his pal, who promptly crushed it and jammed it in his hip pocket.
The junky had the infrared binocs trained on Biggs’s billboard and the latest it had to say. Ortiz cursed under his breath. Scratched his privates.
Rudy Perez wondered why he was cursing. He spot something? “What is it?”
“Heat rash. Maybe I caught something from Mancini’s old lady.”
“Come on, man.”
“Got another one of them brain farts up. On the billboard: Is God your steering wheel, or your spare tire? The fuck does that mean?”
Rudy Perez shook his head. This is the way it was when you dealt with a dopefiend like Ace Ortiz and his sewer rat pal.
“Only pointing out what a fake the punk is. Three-dollar bill. God ain’t nobody’s spare tire, and he sure ain’t no steering wheel. Know why? ’Cause he’s the hooptie. Total package.”
Whatever it was Rudy felt like responding with he kept it to himself.
“One thing we know for sure: Rasputin zones out during the day, seems like. Crawls out at night to do whatever it is he does: peepin’, and like that. Lives to prowl. Like a vampire. Got to be in his blood. Knew a few punks like him. Night Stalker was one of them. How they get their freak on.”
Felix looked at Ortiz without saying anything, not a word.
“Don’t say shit, Felix.” Ace continued, tried to. “Thing is, you never know when the asshole might creep up on you—like that time we went to boost his car stereo—and the lookout we had wasn’t lookin’ out with both his eyes.”
Felix ignored him. Felt like adding to what was being said. “Had something like a three-five-seven on him.”
Rudy Perez wanted to know how they were going to get in.
“What do we do? We need to get in there somehow.”
“Keep your voice down, maricon. First off, it don’t do no good to get worked up. I don’t care whose ass is on the line, who’s goin’ down. Got to be a pro—be cool, ’cause you’re dealing with a stone ghoul here. Cold-blooded loco. Peeps say it about me, only I ain’t half as bad. No way. We seen him chill those chumps, and he liked it. Now me, I don’t get into that kind of shit unless it’s self-defense. Don’t believe in fuckin’ with nobody for no reason. Now, if you badger me, that’s a different story. Anyway, Biggs and that darkie punk with him, probably got a thing goin’ on, them two; laughed about it afterwards. No shit. Didn’t they, Felix?”
“You mean like you, when you pistol-whipped my Uncle Hilario. Dude ain’t got but one leg—and badass over here beat his face in with a piece—”
“Yeah, on account he was about to take me out with it.” Ortiz had to pause. “Where was I? Caused me to lose my train of thought.”
“It don’t take much.”
“Oh yeah, that ain’t all. Trusty watered the heavy ass real good; Big Bertha. After they rolled her grande culo in the grave, clown watered her like a dog doin’ it to a fire hydrant.”
“Do I really need to hear all this?”
“Pays to know what you’re up against, Perez. Lookee-here: You want to get to Biggs? I’ll tell you exactly how to do that. Ain’t gonna be easy. Like I said, you got a ghoul in there with a twisted mind, a real degenerate.”
“Why don’t you get to the point?”
“I got a plan.”
“I know what he’s gettin’ at, Rudy.”
“Shut your mouth, punk. It’s my idea. Got it?”
“Hey, I don’t give a damn whose idea it is.”
“Let’s hear it, Glassy.”
“Will you shut your mouth for just one damn minute, Monk, so I can finish what I’m trying to say?” Ortiz’s itch was back. He handled it. “It’s like this, homeboys. See this?” He indicated the scars from the pistol-whipping Biggs had given him that night. “Something to remember the fruitcake by. Caught us by surprise when we tried to bust into the Caddy.” He looked at the one, then the other. “The big plan is we do it again. He ain’t gonna expect it. That’s the best way to get that cochino to come out—only when he pokes his head out, one of us gets the drop on the mother—and that’s how we get in. Later, when it’s good and dark, we start messin’ with the rides and wait for the douche to come out and we get the drop on them both.”
“There’s only one thing, what if the creep don’t go for it? What if he don’t come out and sends that flunky of his out instead?”
“You got a funny way of bein’ positive, Perez.”
“I’m just saying what if that happens? What then?”
“He’s right, Ace.”
Ortiz shrugged. “I’ll tell you what, then: could be I’m disgusted with the whole thing; could be you assholes oughta do it without me. You got a better way to bait that pendejo? Let’s hear it.”
“On the other hand, it could work.”
“Works every time. That slick son of a pendeja ain’t gonna send that nigger out after us by himself ’cause he don’t trust him with a loaded piece; probably give him a knife or something, or ball bat—like before—and when that happens, we kick his black ass real good. I figure if Marvin comes out we hold him and wait for Biggs and we get the drop on the asshole and check the place out real good; get your lady out.”
CHAPTER 434
They climbed over Biggs’s fence later that night. As planned, Felix Monk went to work on the Caddy door with the slim jim while Rudy and Ace waited hidden in the weeds on either side of the house. Unfortunately it did not look like Felix was getting anywhere.
“What’re you doing?”
“Slim jim ain’t goin’ through, Ace. Asshole probably had a steel bar put inside the door.”
“You ain’t got to get in, fool, to trip the alarm. Jump on the bumper, man, and shake the short.”
Felix did that. Only it still was not happening. He looked back at his partner. “Told you.”
“Besame culo.”
Ortiz cursed under his breath. Walked over. Shoved the lame-ass out of the way. Leapt up from where he stood and landed with both feet on the front bumper of the Brougham, failing to trip the alarm. Baffled himself, Ace resumed his previous position by the side of the house, waited at the ready, while his buddy Felix remained on the ground where he had landed, trying to pull a thorn or something, piece of glass, out of his right palm.
He did that. Sucked at the cut, and spat the blood out. Ortiz hissed at him to get back to work on the door, trip the alarm somehow.
At last the slim jim paid off, and the alarm started wailing. Only he still could not get the door to open. Ace waved at him to step away from the car.
“What the fuck?”
Felix made a gesture of his own, without turning his head, for Ortiz to shut up. He didn’t want to hear what else he had to say, either. Only the next voice did not belong to Ortiz. Muck had walked up and he had the Louisville Slugger with him.
CHAPTER 435
“Yo. What chu be doin’ there, dumb mothafuckah?” And Marvin swung the bat. Felix spun out of harm’s way in time, his arms over his head for protection, just as Ace Ortiz moved up from behind and stuck the Saturday night special in the deacon’s left ear.
“Play hard, dick snot, and get your fuckin’ brains lookin’ like one of Jessup’s fancy omelettes—with extra bacon and cheese. Yo.”
“Take it easy, brother. Ain’t no harm done here. You don’t be wantin’ to pop nobody.”
“Kill the alarm.”
Marvin did that: pressed the clicker in his hand.
“Where’d you come from?”
“Back door.”
“Smell like it.”
“Huh?”
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Ain’t got no boyfriend, me.”
“Where is he?”
“Kitchen.”
“Kitchen?”
“Eatin’ Twinkie’, while the rest of them be eatin’ jambalaya. He don’t be likin’ it hisself. Make everybody el
se eat it—to save coin. Dude be like that.”
“He’s in the kitchen?”
“Told you.”
“You sure about that?”
“Sure I’m sure.”
“He strapped?”
“He strap’? Naw; he ain’t that.”
“Fuck you.”
Ace patted him down. Found a half-smoked pack of smokes, book of matches. He shoved those in his shirt pocket.
“Who else is in there with him? How many?”
“I ain’t counted, Ace. All them ones be hungry, an’ they in there wiff him, eatin’ Greta Otto’ cookin’. Peep’ got to be real hungry to eat that shit.”
They dragged him in the direction of the backyard. Held him at the rear door.
“I asked you how many he had in there with him.”
“Like I said: never did count. Bigg’ brung in new peep’ from time to time ’cause some of them geek’ be so fucked up in they head they got to be took back to the bughouse. Olin Goodfellow be one of them should be took back. Dude be from South Dakota; one of them Dakota’. Wear a diaper. Mothafuckah always be talkin’ ’bout Bullwinkle the Moose. Mothafuckah always be sayin’ I be the one hung like Bullwinkle. Sheeyet. I ain’t that. Ain’t no brotha alive packin’ that much.”
Ortiz punched him in the belly once, then followed that up with a smack to the face. Marvin went down.
“Payback, Bullwinkle.” Ace Ortiz wanted to give him more of the same. Rudy Perez held him off.
“Should break the darkie’s legs.”
“Save it.”
“Break his legs and arms, both.”
“You can always get even. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Bullshit. You ain’t the one got your pretty face messed up, huevos slammed with a Louisville Slugger.”
“He’s right, Ace.”
“Shut up. Both of you. Coupla pussies.”
CHAPTER 436
Rudy and Felix pulled Marvin Muck to his feet.
“Don’t be my fault the way it went down. I do what the bishop tell me to do. He was pissed, is all, ’cause you was messin’ wiff his Cadillac. Don’t nobody mess wiff his Cadillac and get away wiff it.”
“What’s another way to get in?”
“There be a tunnel you get to in the garage, Rudy. Go under the backyard. Take you right into the basement. That be a real mothafuckah to get through. Tunnel and basement be booby-trap. Cecil use some ambush technique he learned him in the army, before the dude got let go for bein’ mentally fucked up in the head.”
“Let’s use the tunnel. I don’t trust the soul brother.”
“No, man. Dude gonna do us, Glassy.”
“Yeah? Biggs is waitin’ on the other side of that door with that Magnum. Bet you anything.”
“Dude gonna ice me ’cause I spill’ the bean’ about that tunnel now. See, he got that tunnel booby-trap ’cause of the board of director’. Cecil don’t be usin’ the tunnel like he used to ’cause them crazy fuckin’ geek’ would learn about it and use it to get outside and the bishop always be nervous about that, made him always nervous—and he never like’ to use the tunnel if he could help it even when sometime’ it be real tough gettin’ a ho inside the church wiffout them nosy neighbor’ seein’ us. If the mental retard’ got loose that could only mean trouble for Cecil an’ me—big trouble. If Cecil got busted there go my meal ticket—there go all that, and it be the cold street’ for me and my pet’, scrounging in dumpster’ and shit.”
Ace Ortiz still held the cocked revolver under the deacon’s chin.
“You gonna cut me loose now, ain’t you? Tellin’ you all I know, Dawg. Cecil could dice my ass when he find’ out.”
“Fuckin’ cuckoo clock. Crazier than my uncle Hilario—and he ain’t got but one leg to stand on.”
CHAPTER 437
Rudy said nothing. Thought about it. He had to get his girl out. How long would it take his brother to notice the note and get help if something happened to him inside Biggs’s place? How long? Monroe worked late at the shop sometimes. How long before he got home from the job?
“What’s he done with Olivia?”
“Olivia? Ain’t here. Cecil let the ho go. At Denny’ out there by the freeway. Ho had to use the crapper and make a phone call.”
Felix Monk found it hard to believe. Didn’t buy it.
“After what she seen in the cemetery? Ain’t no way Biggs woulda turned her loose.”
“You’re a lyin’ darkie bitch.”
“You ain’t got no right to go there wiff me. Don’t nobody go there wiff me.”
“That right, pendejo? I go anywhere I feel like goin’.”
Ortiz sent his left fist into Marvin’s face about three or four times. Meth Mouth’s next move was to let the .38 barrel do a slow crawl up from Muck’s Adam’s apple, over his chin and mouth. Had it rest at about the deacon’s right nostril. Meth Mouth held it there. Pushed the muzzle in.
“Lord, why do everybody got to stick they piece in my face?”
“Know who done this to me, ‘Dawg’?” Ace pointed a finger at his glass eye. “Your kind. ‘Soul Brotha’—in the walls. Black Muslim type. Only I don’t think he could tell a Muslim from a cat turd. Cut my eye. Cocksucker. All I done was wiped my ass with a few loose pages from his bullshit book he was always readin’. We was out of ass-wipe in the cell—an’ the mother-fucker makes me blind in one eye. Know what? Took care of his jungle bunny ass, sure did—like I’m gonna take care of you.”
Marvin got the message. Wondered if he might wipe the blood from his chin and upper lip. Ortiz let him.
“What’s the asshole done with Rudy’s girl?”
Marvin looked at him, then at Rudy Perez.
“Ho be all right.”
Ortiz cocked the hammer.
“She ain’t no ho. She never was no ho.”
“Young miss be all right. Don’t know what she be doin’. Omar say stay away from her; ain’t time for Sloppy Second’. Maybe I could get me some Thrillin’ Third’—the way Omar said, so I stay away. Ain’t had none a that trim yet. Ain’t touch her.”
Rudy gritted his teeth.
“I ain’t lied.”
“Who the fuck is Omar?”
“Yo, who we talkin’ about, Brotha Ace?”
“You smell like a stiff. Like a corpse. Like maybe you been around dead peeps. Yo.”
Marvin had no response to offer.
“How much stuff Biggs got in there, asshole? What’s he holding?”
“Can’t say, Glassy, ’cause I don’t know.” Marvin sighed. Did not wish to experience additional pain. “If I knowed all that, where the man got his stash hid, I be doin’ it. Big time, too, me.”
Ortiz glared at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Marvin. ’Cause if you’re fucking with me, Marvin, I’ll drop your sorry ass.”
“Bigg’ don’t never let me know all he be up to, Brotha Ace. He don’t let me see none of that, only what he want’ me to see. Don’t trust nobody. The way he always be. Every time when he make the buy, every time the dude score, he put’ it away wiff his other stash’, an’ just gimme enough to bait the bitches wiff. I swear, Ace, on my crack ho mama’ grave.”
“Who does he get the shit from? Where?”
“Vegas.”
“Vegas. Who from? Give me a name, a place. I need a location: street name, address, something.”
“He don’t never take me wiff. Make me stay in the motel, while he go off and make the buy. Sometime we brung a chicken wiff us, ’cause after the buy we go an’ check out the ho house. Dude can’t always get it up unlest he cut the head off a Foghorn Leghorn first. I ain’t lied.”
“Wait a minute. He’s stroking us, man. This is bullshit.”
“I don’t be boo-shittin’, Brotha Monk.”
“All right. Fuck all that. Where’s he keep the gems, good stones; the gold. I got me a taste out in the graveyard; where’s he keep the rest? I know he’s got to have more where that came from.”
“Fence
in Vegas. Where his fence be at. Same peep’ he get the dope from.”
“Hell.”
“Swear it, Ace. We drive out there onced or twiced a month: trade what gold and jewelry we got for dope and dough, then we pay the ho house a visit wiff the leghorn; only they tol’ us not to come back; they don’t like seein’ no yardbird get they head cut off. Don’t like the mess. Them hoe’ was freakin’, made a scene, on account of the chicken killin’.”
“For dope and dough.”
“Swear on my long-time-gone crack ho mama grave.”
“Dope and dough?” Ace was not willing to accept it. Was it a line? Had to be. Couldn’t be certain. He was being conned.
“What I said: dope and dough. How the dude got all the hoe’. It take’ real cash to buy gash—or else get ’em high. All the hoe’ be wantin’ to get high. Everybody know’ that, Glassy. Don’t be nothin’ new.”
CHAPTER 438
Ortiz didn’t know what to think at this point.
“Yer sayin’ the best way to get inside is through that door?”
“I’m sayin’ it, Brother Ace.”
“This better not be no setup, motherfuck. ’Cause if it is, you gonna get your nigger nuts shot right off, man. No mercy.”
“You can trust me; you dudes know that. I be Deacon Marvin. I be clergy, me. Cecil say so hisself.”
“Trust you? The last pendejo who told me that in the joint tried to fuck me in the ass. Lookee-here, I don’t take no dick in my ass, ‘Soul Brotha.’ That what you tryin’ to do here? Slip darkie dick in my asshole?”
“I ain’t queer, bro—you know that. I don’t be fuckin’ no mens in they culo. Do hoe’ in they culo. Don’t do no fag shit, me. Tang be my way. Been hungry for tang all my life. Could never get enough tang. Why I hooked up wiff Cecil. He know how to pull the bitches in. He got the way: use Caddy and blow to bait the hoe’. Work’ every time.”
“You miss the point, butt-lick.”
Rudy Perez concluded that they would be going in through the door and said as much.
