"Bullshit," Spider said. "We'll just tell them what street corner to go to as we're walking them out the door or not letting them in. You just don't want to stand out in the rain when you're selling."
"Damn right."
"We'll then get some more of the Props to push the H instead of you. You shouldn't be selling it anyway, you're too high up the ladder for that menial shit. On top of that, you could get arrested or the cops could get familiar with your face. That's the last thing we need since you're half of the connection we've got with the suppliers of the H."
"I know," Paint agreed. "I just like pushing."
"What you like," Pogo said. "Is getting blow jobs from the chicks that don't have the money for the brown horse.
Spider looked at Paint with raised eyebrows.
"I don't give it away," Paint quickly explained. "I give them a discount, and whatever the difference is comes out of my own pocket. I'm not ripping the club off one damn cent."
"Not an issue since you're not selling anymore," Spider waved the problem away.
Paint looked at Pogo. "Fucking big mouth," causing everyone to laugh.
"Speaking of brown horse," Pogo said. "Some of our long term customers are looking for stronger stuff. I was wanting to talk to my supplier about buying some white horse from him for high tolerance junkies, but I thought I should bring it up here first."
Brown horse was a term used for a more diluted, more common form of heroin, while white horse was the stronger, more expensive form. It was also much more likely to kill someone from an overdose if they didn't know what they were doing or didn't have a high tolerance for brown horse.
"I dunno know, man," Spider replied. "Our pushers start selling it to the wrong junkies and we start killing our customer base."
"We've got a specific list of who's looking for the potent shit," Pogo explained. "We would give the white H to a specific pusher and tell the hardcore junkies that they would have to go to him for the strong shit. The pusher would have a list of names and know who to sell it to."
"We got a dealer that has enough brains to follow this list?" Spider asked.
"I know exactly who to give it to." Pogo answered. "I've got prices for the product and gave all the info to Beans so he could crunch the numbers."
Spider looked at Beans. "What kind of increase in revenue are we looking at?
"Potential to make a couple thousand more a week," Beans answered.
"Well," Spider smiled. "That's all I need to know to give it the green light. Anybody got anything else they need to talk about?"
The others shook their heads.
"Good," Spider said. "One last thing an then we are outta here. The H is making us so much money now, my head is still spinning, which is why we need to implement a new rule." He took a moment to look each member in the eye. "The money we're making has allowed us to expand, which is great, but the bigger we are the harder it is to have complete control over everything. Which is why, as of right now I'm making the new rule that nobody associated with the club, which includes full members, the chicks, Props and Berries, shoots H, ever."
Both Paint and Pogo shifted in their chairs.
"That's going to be a little hard to enforce," Paint replied.
"I don't care," Spider said. He looked at both of his H contacts. "I know you two aren't hooked, but that you do shoot occasionally. That stops now."
He stared at both of them until they nodded in agreement.
"If somebody is playing with the needle, their name gets brought to me, and then I decide what their punishment will be." He leaned back in his chair, taking a drink of beer. "The punishment will be one of two things, either they're kicked out of the club, or they die. Make sure everybody understands that."
Spider looked around the silent room. "Any questions?"
No one said anything.
"Good," Spider said with a dark smile. "Class dismissed."
As they started getting up Spider added:" By the way, the new patches for the original six are cool as hell, Paint," he pointed to the patch on the front right side of his jacket right above the chest pocket. The top of the patch said: The Sleazy, and then below that was the number 666 in larger lettering. The writing was blood red on a black background.
Everybody agreed, patting Paint on the back.
"Thanks," he replied to everyone.
The other five left the room, leaving Spider sitting in the Bizz Mezz room all by his lonesome.
The following week was quite tense as the new rules started to kick in. Several Berries disappeared along with a few Props and one full fledge member who had just recently been patched in. The official rumor was that they all split before having to go in front of Spider. Even though Frank was part of the inner circle of the DBMC, that was all he had heard as well. If anyone had been killed, either Beans or Fizz would have taken care of it, and neither of them were saying anything. So the days and nights floated along in a dead silence, until the night they brought Ann into the back room.
Ann had came up to Chicago with the original six. She was one of the girls that had left the Chevy factory job to come party. She was one of Margie's close friends and she was Bean's woman.
Spider had gathered all of the six but Beans into the back room where they did the auto work. "Just be quiet and hang tight," he had told them, staring at the inner back door that joined The Zombie House to the back room.
After a few moments, Beans brought a giggling Ann through the door, closing the door behind them as Ann made eye contact with Spider.
"Hey, needles," Spider smiled. "Ready to party?"
"I haven't shot up since the new rules were announced---" she began, already crossing her arms and shaking her head.
"Shut up," Spider commanded. Even the music from the clubhouse seemed to fade. "This is my time to talk. You'll get your chance when I'm done."
The closest she could do to answer was to take a big, dry swallow.
"Earlier this week, Tut got picked up by the cops, you hear about that?" They called him Tut because he braided his go-tee that weird way the Egyptian Pharaohs use to.
She started to shake her head but changed it half way to vigorous nodding. "Yeah, I think I did hear that," she said, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.
"You think you did?" Spider asked, nodding his head with raised eyebrows.
"Yeah, I think it wa---" she started to reply.
"Damn shame," he cut her off. "Tut was a hell of a pusher, it's almost like he could smell when the cops were coming around. It was like he had this dealer sixth sense that is so rare and unbelievably valuable to a business like ours, you know?"
She nodded her head vigorously again.
"That's why we patched him in so quickly," Spider explained. "Cause not only was he good at pushing, he was smart. He knew his customers. He knew who could handle white horse, and who couldn't. That's why he was the only dealer that carried any white H, and that's why he is in such deep shit with the pigs."
He had slowly approached Ann as he spoke, until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at her as she started to shake like a scared rabbit. "They are telling him since he has a more potent variety of H, that he is going to get a much longer sentence." He drifted down closer to her, nose to nose. "Twenty to life with no possibility of parole. Wouldn't that suck?" It looked like he had bitten the tip of her nose for a moment, his teeth were so close. "If you were in his shoes, wouldn't that just suck ass?"
"Yeah," she whispered as tears started to stream down her face.
"That puts me in a real pickle, needles," Spider said, fading back from her face slightly. "I have to decide if I believe this brand new club member is going to keep his mouth closed and go to jail for the rest of his life, or that he'll turn rat. If he talks, then of course I'd have to have him killed, but what if I have him offed and then find out he wasn't going to talk. If that happened, I'd just feel rotten."
Stepping back, he put his hand on his chin, thinking dee
ply. "What would you do, needles? If you were in my shoes?"
"Kill 'em," she said louder than before, but still with a shaky voice.
"The thing is," Spider said, turning and walking away. "You're not in my shoes, and you're not in Tut's. You're in your own shoes, and you're knee deep in some serious shit.
She quickly walked after him. "The cops had picked me up, and I was holding enough H to be charged with a felony, which would have put me in prison for at least ten years!"
"You'd had been out in five," Spider replied, his back still to her. "And we would have taken care of you why you were in.
She fell to her knees, almost grabbing the back of his legs, but too scared to touch him. "I had to do six months a couple years back, and I barely made it. There is no way I could do five years!"
"What all did you tell them?"
"They wanted me to give up someone who was patched in, not a Prop or a Berry. It was the only way they would let me off. I gave them Tut since he had just got his patch, I figured he would know the least."
"I suppose that's pretty sound thinking for a dumbass little junkie bitch, like you," Spider said, his back still to her.
"I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "I'll do whatever I have to do to make this right."
"That's not possible and you know it."
"Please!" She trembled like a reed in a fierce wind.
"Stop with the whimpering," Spider snapped. "We're not going to kill you."
"Thank God," she said in a voice that sounded better than anything else she had said since she came into the back room.
"Hold her down, boys," Spider said, walking away.
The other five did what they were told. Ann didn't struggle, fully expecting a gang rape or something of that nature.
Spider walked up to one of the big tool boxes. Pulling out a pair of pliers, he made his way back to Ann.
"Ya know, Ann, you've really forced me to think of a lot of shit here lately, dark shit." He stood right above her now. She noticed what was in his hand, and the other five could feel her tense up.
"Sometimes, you've just got to bite the bullet, ya know?" He squatted down, tapping the pliers on her chin. "Ya gotta do the hard shit for the good of the club. It's known as sacrifice, you ever heard of that word?"
Ann made a squeaking noise, she didn't seem to be able to put any words together anymore since those pliers showed up.
"I'm going to let you live, but you're out of the club." He opened and closed the jaws of the tool, making sure it was loose. "You already knew that though, right?" He flickered his eyebrows in rhythm with the clacking of the pliers' jaws.
She nodded her head like a bobble head toy on the dashboard of a monster truck that was raising some serious hell off in the hills somewhere. "Please," she whispered, not knowing what was about to happen, other than it wasn't going to be good.
"Believe it or not, you've actually caught some luck today, cause you really should die for what you've done. Slow and painful like," Spider snapped the jaws shut one last time. The clacking of the metal teeth seemed to echo in the large room for a moment.
Ann's ragged breath was the only sound that followed the snap of the pliers.
"But the real example that needs to be shown tonight, has nothing to do with you," he waved the pliers at his fellow bikers. "And everything to do with the Sleazy Six. You see Ann, the more money the club makes, the more I depend on my most trusted men. The more I depend on them, the heavier the responsibility is on their shoulders, and that's some tough shit, and I understand that. You've got to trust me, my brothers, your loyalty to me will someday be rewarded with your darkest desires." He looked upon the other bikers with his patented Spider's smile. The grin no one else could truly replicate with the cold evil that he could. "And with this act, we will solidify our coven."
Spider's eyes rested on Frank's as he flipped the pliers around with a quick spin in the air, the handles now facing outwards.
Frank had been numb up till now, not knowing what to think or do. It was as if he was in the back seat of a speeding car being chased by the cops, suddenly finding out that the beer stop they had just done had really been a robbery that ended up in the murder of the clerk. He hadn't known anything about any of it, but there was the roadblock up ahead and a pistol had just been shoved into his hand. He was either going to prison or dying in a gun fight. Hell of a decision to make.
The blood in his veins seemed to thicken as it slowly froze, stopping him from moving his limbs. The very oxygen in his lungs seemed to solidify from the coldness inside his body, not allowing him to speak, slowly choking him.
Spider sensed his struggle and moved his eyes on to Beans. "She's your old lady, seems only right you do the deed," he held the tool out towards the tunnel rat.
"Sure," Beans replied with no hesitation, taking the pliers and switching places with Spider.
Spider glanced at Frank, giving him a quick wink. God only knew what the hell that meant.
"What kind of procedure are we performing this evening?" Beans asked, looking down at Ann as if she was a pig for slaughter.
"Beanie, please," she whispered.
He reached down and slapped her, hard.
It was common knowledge to never call him Beanie. He must have allowed her to use it during times of intimacy when it had been just the two of them. It was a testament of his actual feelings for her. Feelings she had called upon at this time of dire fear with negative results. One quick slap had shown Beans' true loyalty, which made Spider smile once again.
"Removal of her front teeth," Spider replied. "Two top, two bottom.
As Beans went down on his knees, Ann found her voice, screaming wildly. Beans pushed her head to one side, setting one of his knees down, so she couldn't move around. Her screaming turned to whining as she clenched her teeth. Her tactic didn't really slow him down, quickly bringing back the screaming, along with crying, choking, hacking and gurgling as blood quickly traveled down her throat. Each yank was followed by a howling scream like none Frank had heard since the war. That scream had come from a woman that had been torched by a flamethrower from behind. She had died quickly, but had left this world with one last scream reminiscent of what he heard now.
Beans would pause in between each pull to wipe the blood from the pliers onto his jeans, so they could get a better grip, Frank guessed, even though he was sure the tool would have worked just fine either way. The sounds she made in between the extractions were even worse than the screams. The crying, pleading and gurgling was just soul shaking.
Frank was thankful he had a hold of one of her legs, which were harder to hold down than an arm, but at least he wasn't as close to the torture. Beans had his back to him, so he couldn't see her eyes but he could see the other three holding her down.
Fizz had the same look that he did when they were pulling a stingy engine out of a car. He looked slightly annoyed that things weren't going smoother, but no big deal. The damn things would come out soon enough and then he could go back to drinking.
The airborne boys definitely had a different look in their eyes. Pogo had a hold of her other arm, and it was like he was watching a particularly good, bloody boxing match. With every pull, he would make a hiss and then either chuckle or curse in amusement. It was quite the show for him.
Paint was on the other leg, and kept trying to get a good look at the action but all of Ann's kicking kept drawing his attention back to his job, pissing him off. He made her pay for him missing the show with a punch to her thigh.
"What the hell have I gotten into?" Frank asked himself as the final tooth came out.
"Let her loose boys," Spider commanded as Beans climbed off her.
She crawled away and made a noise like a wounded banshee.
"How about some complimentary white horse to help with the pain?" Spider called out to her as she staggered to her feet, running for the exit.
She reached the door handle, grabbing it but not opening it as Spider's words sunk in. She didn
't leave, but she didn't turn around. Her body shook with pain and fear as she cried and moaned, leaning her head against the metal door.
"What a fucking junkie," Spider said, pulling a small balloon full of heroin from his pocket and throwing it toward Ann. The balloon arced through the air, landing on the smooth concrete and sliding up to her foot, slowly bouncing off her heel, coming to a stop about four inches from her.
She reached down, picking it up without looking back and then rushing out the exit.
"There is no way she won't OD on that," Paint said.
"That's the idea," Spider replied, making everyone chuckle except two of them. Frank didn't think it was funny, Beans was somewhere else. Somewhere where nothing was funny.
Beans turned towards the others. His mouth was open, breathing hard, his eyes were iced insanity.
Beans' look stole everyone's voice, except Spider's of course.
"You ready to go party, Tunnel Rat?" Spider asked.
Beans didn't answer, just stared at the bloody pliers. "These are mine now."
"Sure are," Spider agreed.
Beans nodded his head once, then put them in his back pocket and walked back toward the clubhouse. For the rest of the time that Frank knew the tunnel rat, those pliers were either in that back pocket or in his hand.
The rest of them followed after Beans. No words were said between them as they walked.
Spider's hand was suddenly on Frank's shoulder as he whispered in Frank's ear. "Hold up a second, let's you and me talk."
Frank nodded his head in silence as the others went through the door to the club, no one looking back. No one noticing the two left behind.
"I was really planning on you being the dentist tonight, Franky," Spider said, lighting up a joint and inhaling deeply. "But I could tell by your eyes, you weren't up to the task," he said after exhaling the smoke, then handing it to Frank.
Frank took a deep drag, then slowly letting it out. "Sorry, man, that was just..." he couldn't find the words to finish his sentence.
The Damned Summer (The Ruin Trilogy) Page 12
