Remember the Future

by Delafosse, Bryant

  “What the fuck do you want?” the kid demanded.

  “I want my car,” Rudy responded.

  The teenager looked him up and down. “You mean my car, bitch.”

  Smirking at the other’s audacity, Rudy looked around for other cars. “What? Is this your initiation?”

  The kid stiffened. “You wait long enough, maybe you'll find out.”

  “Fine. Which gang?”

  “The Seventh Street Gangsters.”

  “Never heard of them,” Rudy replied. “What’s your name?”

  “V-Man.”

  “Okay… V-Man. Do you know what will happen to you and your brothers if Arturo Torres finds out you stole one of his cars?”

  V-Man glanced at the car behind Rudy. “I don't know any Torres, bitch.”

  “I bet your brothers do? Do you want to bring that kind of heat down on them?”

  The kid shifted his weight. He clenched his belt tighter.

  Rudy angled his body toward the Toyota. “Look if you need to save face with your buddies, you can have the Toyota.”

  V-Man snorted derisively.

  “It's like this, V-Man. You keep the Mercedes and bring shit down on your gang, or you can have the Toyota. Then at least you won't meet them empty-handed.”

  The teenager fixed his eyes on Rudy.

  “Yeah, okay, maybe,” V-Man decided, dropping his hands in a less aggressive posture. “Let's go take a look at it.

  Rudy turned toward the Toyota, taking his time and allowing the kid to catch up with him.

  Click.

  The teen pressed the gun to Rudy's head. “On second thought, I'll take them both.”

  Rudy sighed.

  The Toyota blasted a single honk.

  Rudy spun and trapped V-Man’s gun arm under his. A shot broke the dead silence.

  The bullet struck high on the Toyota's windshield.

  Inside the car, Maddy—folded over the center console in order to reach the horn-- screamed and dove back, falling into Grant’s arms.

  Snatching the gun from V-Man, Rudy cuffed him on the ear like a naughty child. The teenager fell to the ground holding his ear with one hand.

  “Kids today,” he sighed. He leaned down to his ear and yelled, “Don't get greedy!”

  A knife appeared in the teen’s hand.

  Rudy drove a booted heel down on the other’s hand. Kicking the knife across the parking lot, he brought the side of the gun down across V-Man’s face. V-Man screamed in pain.

  The teen yelled, rolling onto his side and throwing his hands up in defense.

  The rear door of the Toyota flew open. Maddy rushed out of the Toyota, the ever-present satchel clutched in one hand. “He's just a child,” she bellowed at Rudy’s back.

  Behind her, Grant grabbed Maddy’s arm and gently restrained her.

  Rudy yanked his arm away and stepped up to V-Man, slapping his hands away and taking his chin in his hand. “Cowards,” he said in a contemptuous tone. “Your generation is nothing but a bunch of pussies.”

  “Get off me, you bitch,” V-Man said in a whimper.

  Releasing him, Rudy turned his back on him in disgust and headed for the Mercedes.

  Stepping slowly up to the youth, Maddy offered him her hand as he struggled to rise from the ground. He slapped her hand away and spit in her direction.

  She backed away with a grim expression and collided with Grant standing behind her. They watched as Rudy popped open the trunk of the Mercedes, peering down into the open trunk from behind him.

  A small wooden case sat in an otherwise empty trunk. Several bungee cords secured it to the frame to keep it from sliding around. Rudy unfastened the strap and opened it with a squeak of hinges.

  Grant furrowed his brow and cocked his head to one side.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Maddy asked, trading a look of confusion with Grant.

  “Either that Chihuahua is a very deep sleeper or it’s a corpse,” Grant commented.

  Ignoring them, Rudy closed the lid and fastened the bungees back in place.

  “She belonged to the boss,” Maddy said to Grant.

  Rudy glared at her. Grant edged slowly between them.

  “We wouldn't have come back for just any car and it's not every dog gets a coffin like that,” she added.

  Slamming the trunk, Rudy turned to face Maddy. “You're so fucking smart, then maybe you can tell me what its goddamn name was.”

  “Pepe,” Maddy replied flatly.

  Rudy blinked wide-eyed at Maddy.

  Grant coughed into his fist, then just surrendered to laughter.

  “Name was inscribed on the coffin.”

  “Wait, you got a dead Chihuahua in your trunk named Pepe?” Grant managed between laugh fits.

  Rudy grabbed Grant by his collar.

  Something in the distance caught Maddy's attention. “Headlights!”

  Rudy peered in through the open driver’s side window of the Mercedes and found the keys in the ignition. “Get in the car!”

  All three piled into the Mercedes.

  As the car squealed away in the opposite direction, V-Man crawled across the parking lot and retrieved the knife. He slowly rose, weaved to the Toyota, and collapsed behind the wheel.

  The dark sedan arrived moments later and pulled to a stop along the left side of the Toyota. The Shorter Blank Man leaned out of the passenger-side window and quickly scanned the interior of the adjacent car. Satisfied that his target had gone, he stared out at the fading taillights of the Mercedes.

  Rolling down the driver-side window of the Toyota, V-Man cast a long look at the men in the sedan and attempted to strike a look of bravado. “Hey, you assholes ain’t from Seventh Street.”

  A gun appeared in the Blank Man’s hand.

  Two gunshots echoed across the empty concrete lot.

  18

  Maddy awoke from a sound sleep to the hip hop strains of Rudy’s cell phone. Grant lay asleep in the seat next to her, stirring slightly at the music. She took a look outside and saw nothing but dark empty highway. It appeared to her like they were still on the interstate.

  “Yeah?” Rudy spoke into the phone. “Only my suppliers call me ‘Mr. Pedroza.’ What are you trying to sell me?”

  Maddy settled slowly back into the darkness behind Rudy’s seat, but cocked her head closer to the left side of his seat, straining to hear both sides of the conversation.

  “Aiding and abetting, my ass,” Rudy replied in an even tone. “Law enforcement wouldn't use your tactics. Try again.” After a moment of silence, Rudy snorted derisively. “Oh, is that right? If you're lonely or something, try the classifieds. Just don't try and threaten me, Mr. Lonely Heart. I don't respond well to threats.”

  Silence. Rudy sighed heavily.

  “Can you hold on a moment?” Rudy responded in a bored voice. “I gotta put you on speaker so that I can dig my underwear out of the crack of my ass. You’re scaring me so bad, everything’s retreating up into my anal cavity.”

  Bringing the phone up to the steering wheel, Rudy hit the speaker-phone button as he glanced casually up into the rear view.

  Maddy shut her eyes and listened closely.

  Over the other phone, she could hear the hum of freeway noise, the steady thump-thump-thump of tires on a patch of highway she feared not far behind them. The anticipation of the voice on the other end of the phone sent a slow, agonizing chill up her spine.

  Finally, the Blank Man spoke. “Up until now, this was just business. Do you really want it to get personal, Mr. Pedroza?”

  In the rear-view mirror, Rudy's smile disintegrated. He cut the call short and flung it angrily atop the dashboard.

  Maddy recognized the words and judging from Rudy’s reaction, he did as well.

  When he glanced up into the rearview mirror again, Maddy appeared fast asleep.

  II.

  NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

  1

  Grant felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into self-loathing.
Lack of sleep always did this to him. He’d caught precious little this morning and had awakened abruptly because of the nightmares. They were the typical ones. He had arrived at the scene of his wife’s car accident, the officer on site informing him of what they knew—though he heard only half of the explanation the first time because of his overwhelming grief.

  Though it had been over a year ago, the pain felt as fresh as it had been the day after.

  When she had been with him, the world had seemed tolerable. After the tragedy of her loss, he had honored her memory through sacrifice, knowing that he was obligated to her to pay back what she had borrowed on his behalf.

  And now that that was done…

  He was tired, physically and emotionally. He couldn’t deal with this corrupt pit of a world any longer.

  He felt ready to die.

  He cast a look at Rudy out of the corner of his eye. My reaper, he scoffed.

  Oh well. Beggar’s can’t be choosers, he thought.

  The newly risen sun shined dimly on a sign that announced the Orleans Parish line.

  Maddy awakened with a start and looked around. Grant stared silently out his window.

  “Did we miss the sunrise?” she asked.

  Grant made no sign of acknowledgement.

  Rudy glanced back indifferently, spitting the gum from his mouth into his hand and angrily tossing it into the plastic litter-bag hanging from his gearshift.

  Lip curling in revulsion, Maddy turned from Rudy to examine Grant, who sat so quietly, he almost looked as if he were in a meditative state.

  “Y'know, the French Quarter is number seven on my list of things to see before I die,” she said quietly.

  Grant gave her a sad little smile. “Glad I had the chance to share it with you,” he replied, failing to keep the irony out of his voice.

  Giving his profile a moment of serious appraisal, she turned away to stare outside her own window. “So am I, Grant,” she said in a low melancholy tone.

  Rudy snorted and shook his head.

  Maddy glared at him as he shook out another square of gum from the container in the console and began to chew it with a look of disgust on this face.

  “So what's the deal with Pepe?” she ventured to ask their driver.

  “What? You don't know already, smartass?”

  “I figure that maybe he knew too much and you had to rub him out.”

  Rudy allowed himself a smile, before asking, “Who are these men who are following you if they’re not feds?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You must have some idea. You a criminal, Maddy?”

  “Are you a murderer, Rudy?”

  “I have killed men who had it coming if that’s what you’re asking,” he retorted. “What are you wanted for?”

  “I have a clean record before God. Can you say the same?”

  Rudy chewed his gum in silence, a smirk on his face. “Oddly enough, God’s never really evaluated my work record.”

  “Be patient,” Grant murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

  Rudy’s eyes shot up to the reflection in his rear-view.

  “Where are you going to bury Pepe?” Maddy quickly asked before anyone else could interject.

  “That would be up to the boss,” Rudy said.

  “So your boss doesn't know yet?”

  His steady chewing suddenly stopped. “Course he knows.”

  “If your boss was very attached to Pepe and he knows Pepe is an ex-Pepe, why is Pepe in your trunk?”

  “Your girlfriend's got a smart fucking mouth, Frederickson.”

  Grant smiled silently out his window.

  Maddy nodded to herself in satisfaction then turned to look out her own window. “You don’t have a clue about either of us or our relationship.”

  “Why are you protecting this whore?” Rudy asked Grant. “You knock her up or something?”

  At the sound of that ugly word, Grant’s spine jerked whip straight. He felt a rage rise out of him for the first time in hours and wiped the depression from his soul like a flame streaking over a dry field. He cleared his throat as life flooded back into him.

  “How do you stand on the death penalty, Rudy?” Grant inquired, turning his attention away from the world outside his window to focus it fully on the man at the wheel.

  “Never given it much thought, Frederickson.”

  “I believe that there is evil in this world, Rudy, and as a fan of social order in general, I figure if and when you have the opportunity to destroy something evil you do it without thinking twice. That's why I'm a big advocate of capital punishment.”

  Grant turned and looked at Maddy. “Do you believe in evil, Maddy?”

  Maddy stared seriously at Grant. “Yes.”

  “So, that is the reason why I'm protecting her, Rudy,” Grant told him. “Because as long as there are evil men like you in this world, there will be ordinary people like me to protect their own.” He promptly turned back to his window.

  Maddy stared over at Grant with wide-eyed with admiration.

  Rudy gave an exaggerated show of applause. “This conversation is putting me in the mind of a last meal,” he commented darkly. “Anyone else hungry?”

  2

  As the Mercedes headed east down Poydras Street in the heart of the city of New Orleans, Maddy gripped Grant’s arm and pointed excitedly out the window as it passed the Superdome.

  “Look! The Superdome!” she told him. “It’s one of the largest man-made structures in the world… in terms of diameter. It covers 13 acres and stands 27 stories tall.”

  “Thank you, Travel Channel,” Rudy interrupted.

  A brooding silence settled over the car. Maddy continued to gaze out the window with the awed smile of a child.

  Grant watched her with a newfound interest for a few moments before asking Rudy, “Where are we going?

  “The best hole-in-the-wall in town,” he replied. “A little place called Mother’s.”

  The Mercedes pulled into the cracked-asphalt parking lot of a low-profile downtown restaurant. Killing the engine, Rudy leapt out almost cheerfully and held the back door of the Mercedes open for Grant, but ignored Maddy entirely as she stepped out. She gasped aloud, turning a slow circle to take in the sight of all the tall buildings surrounding them.

  “Y’know, New Orleans is a great city to get lost in,” Rudy said slamming his door and breezing past her. As he started to the entrance of Mother’s restaurant, Maddy joined Grant, smiling broadly at the streetcar that passed on the street.

  Continuing to watch Maddy, Grant’s face finally broke into a smile.

  Smiling self-consciously, Maddy said, “Sorry, but you don’t know how great it is to finally see this city.”

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he remarked. “It’s actually pretty cool to see genuine happiness for a change.”

  Waiting patiently, Rudy held one of the double glass entrance doors open. Trotting several steps ahead, Maddy opened the other door for Grant. He stopped short and took the door from her, waving her ahead and garnering a glare from Rudy.

  Inside the cafeteria-style restaurant, a few customers stood in front of the open kitchen placing their orders for the various Cajun and Creole style dishes behind a steam-covered glass partition.

  “Order up, Frederickson,” Rudy told Grant with a congenial slap on the back. “I'm buying.”

  Grant gave him a grim look.

  An elderly black woman stirred a pan filled with crawfish etouffee. “What can I do for ya'll?” she asked stifling a yawn.

  “Morning, could I please get a crawfish etouffee omelet. Black ham biscuit. Pancakes. Stack of three,” Maddy said enthusiastically.

  The woman started to scribble out the order on a receipt, but Rudy waved a hand in her face. “Nah-nah-nah.”

  The woman’s face hardened. Her eyes pinpointed Rudy like the tip of finger leveled in accusation.

  “Boy, ya better get ya hand out ma face,” she snapped. Making eye contact
with Maddy, her face softened slightly. “Sugah, you want any toast with that omelet?

  “No thank you, ma’am. The biscuit will do just fine.”

  Rudy turned to Grant, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. “What do you want?”

  “How much did you plan to spend on me, Rudy?” Grant asked him. “What’s the price for whitewashing your soul?”

  “Look, Frederickson, do you want the fucking food or don't you?”

  The elderly black woman’s face hardened even further as she glared at Rudy.

  “You want absolution, go to a priest. I don't want any part of your charity,” Grant snapped.

  Rudy sighed heavily and turned back to the woman behind the counter. “One coffee. Black.”

  The woman ripped the receipt off and slapped it down in front of Rudy with a glare.

  Rudy took one look at the receipt and adamantly shook his head. “Nah-nah-nah. Separate tabs. She ain’t with us.”

  The woman snatched up the receipt, ripped off a thin strip on the bottom and tossed it back to Rudy, while she handed Maddy back her receipt.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Maddy responded with a gracious smile. “And may I ask your name?”

  The woman blinked at surprise at Maddy, an unpracticed smile appearing on her work-worn face. “I’m Cheryl.”

  “Well, you have a good day, Cheryl.”

  “Same to you, Shug,” the woman replied, flashing a more genuine smile this time and pointing to the cashier. “You can pay Mavis over there at the register.”

  The dining room behind the kitchen was a non-descript room that looked almost like a patio out of someone’s house. Rudy chose a seat at a table in the back near a window looking out over his car. Giving the parking lot a long look and feeling satisfied that no cars had arrived after them, he finally dropped into his seat.

  Maddy made eye contact with Grant. Grant lifted his brows in question. Maddy shifted her eyes to an ancient black man at the adjacent table thoroughly buttering a stack of pancakes.

  Grant felt his stomach growl.