The black and white pimp. Maddox struggled back a fit of laughter. What else had he expected? The guy was wearing white sunglasses, for fuck’s sake.
“I take it you’re here on account of Vinnie.” His voice was high and squeaky, reminding Maddox of the times his brother used to inhale air from balloons.
The pimp approached him and stuck out his free hand—the other wrapped firmly around the crystal ball of the cane’s head. “Jules.”
Maddox shook it and introduced himself.
“That’s a fine name.”
“Thanks,” Maddox said.
“You know, that name, it sounds familiar. I know you?” Jules tilted his shades a notch down his nose, exposing his eyes.
“I don’t think so…”
Jules snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Yeah, I know you! You that crazy cracka playa who got busted the day of his first game, right? I remember hearing about you! That shit was hilarious.”
Great. “You a baseball fan, huh?”
“Oh, you best believe it. Ain’t nothin’ better than the good ol’ black and white, baby.”
His grin brightened as he revealed his fandom for the Sox, and it took all Maddox had to stop himself from punching the guy’s lights out.
Shit.
“You were gonna be a Cubbie, ain’t that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Well, if you ask me,” the black and white pimp said, “getting pinched was the best thing that could’ve happened to ya. Put you in line, got you thinking straight, didn’t it? Jesus, boy, why the hell you wanna go around playing for that silly little team in the first place?”
Maddox breathed in, breathed out. It was obvious where this would lead to if someone didn’t end it soon. “Do you mind if we got down to business?”
“Got somewhere else you gotta be, do ya?”
“Yeah, kind of,” Maddox said, stressing over Benny’s sense of time. The adrenaline of his dream as a criminal finally coming true might override the boy’s patience. Might make him do something stupid, like jumping the gun and barging in way too early.
Instead of the bullet Maddox had been expecting, however, Jules repaid him with another smile. “Well shit, why didn’t you say so?”
He plopped down on the mattress, letting the springs bounce him up and down, and spotted the briefcase locked in Maddox’s kung fu grip. “That what I think it is?”
“Depends on if you have what I need,” Maddox said. Vague, yet to the point. Very smooth. After ten long years you still got it, baby.
“Yeah, I got yo money. You got what Vinnie speaks so highly of?”
Maddox lifted the briefcase up and set it down on the bed. “Sure do.”
Still lighting the room with his teeth, the pimp said, “Well, a’ight, let’s get down to bizness then, shall we?” He bent down and dragged a black duffle bag out from under the bed. Struggling to carry it, he heaved it up next to him and unzipped the top.
Maddox peered inside and his rhythm of breathing skipped a beat or two as the bag’s contents overwhelmed him. Sure enough, inside was a shitload of money. Who knew how much? It was full, nearly overflowing of cash. The bag was going to be damn heavy.
“Now,” Jules motioned to the briefcase, “your turn.”
Maddox noticed the bodyguard tensing as he unlatched the briefcase and opened it, as if there was a gun waiting for him. It hit him then that a gun very well could have been hiding in there, since he had never exactly looked inside. King had just given it to him and that had been that. Now here he was.
Nope, no gun. More like four rows of twelve small black bottles; each fastened against the cushion of the briefcase’s interior by thin straps. Forty-eight potential destroyers of civilization.
The pimp whistled in awe. “Just as he promised.”.
“Are we good?” Trapped in such a dark enclosed space, it was impossible to judge the passing of time. For all he knew, this transaction could have been going on for hours now. Days, even.
“Shoot, boy, you sure are in a rush.” Jules looked up at him “Where you gotta go anyway, huh?”
“Just would like to get this over with, if that’s all right with you.”
Jules leaned forward. “You know who I am?”
“You’re Jules.”
“That’s right. I’m Jules. You know what Jules does, Maddox Kane?”
“No—what?”
“He keeps bitches in line, that’s what does.”
“Oh,” Maddox said. “That’s nice.”
“Now,” Jules continued, “don’t get me wrong. It takes years—I mean years—to fully master pimping a ho. You wouldn’t believe how much practice it takes to tell when a bitch is holding something back. It’s not as easy as it seems, ya know? You don’t just have to learn the art of facial expressions, no, but you gotta study every single movement of the body. I’m even talkin’ about the fuckin’ hips. The way their toes wiggle. Everything, you feel me?”
Maddox nodded, although he was not feeling the pimp at all. He had no idea what this guy was planning and he didn’t like it. He also had to consider the fact that if Jules didn’t really intend on a double-cross, then Jules himself would surely suspect one when Benny came barging in shooting up the place.
“So,” Jules said, “I can’t help but look at you with the same attitude I would approach one of my girls with. And man, I have to say, you’re showing quite a few signs of a bitch in need of a good beatin’. It ain’t that hot in here, boy. The AC is maxed and yet here you are, sweatin’ like some kind of goddamn pig. You’re bouncing up on the soles of yo feet like you’re just begging to get the hell outta here. It’s clear as all can be that you be hiding something from me. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I just want to finish this.”
Jules laughed. “Finish this? Boy, if that ain’t code I don’t know what is.” He turned to the bodyguard. “Roach, you clearly missed the bug up this fool’s ass. Give me the fucking Glock.”
The pimp stood up off the bed. There was no mistaking the determination of murder in his stance.
Maddox threw his hands up in the air. “I’m not wired! Jesus Christ, I just got out of the joint. You said you knew that yourself. This is just a favor for King, nothing else. I am not working for the cops. Trust me, okay?”
The bodyguard, Roach, was in the midst of pulling out a pistol from his waist when Jules stopped him. He paused and awaited more directions.
“Vinnie did put in a good word for you, and your tone’s implying you’re telling the truth…or that you’re a really good liar, one of the two. Which is it, huh? You a fuckin’ rat?”
“No,” Maddox said calmly, “and if you accuse me of being one again, I’m going to drive that cane down your throat.”
The two men stared at each other coldly. Maddox thought he had it under control again. Just a simple death threat was all that was needed most of the time in a situation like this. You made these gangster assholes know you meant business, otherwise they walked all over you.
Jules cracked first. That smile returned and he clapped Maddox on the shoulder. “You’re all right, boy.” He sat back down on the bed. “What do you say we finish this up? Maybe a drink afterwards?” Jules pushed the duffle bag of cash to him. “It’s all there, but I’ll understand if you wanted to count it. I know I would.”
“I trust you.” King hadn’t exactly informed Maddox how much he was picking up—just that his pay for deliverance would be quite charitable.
“Good man.” Jules cracked a smile. “You mind if I test out the product real quick?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Maddox thought of the Mexican from the day before. How he had twitched in his chair, utterly helpless.
The bony fingers of the black and white pimp piano-walked across the bedspread, stopping at the opened briefcase. They climbed upon its clean interior and ventured toward one of the bottles. He pulled away the Velcro strapping and caressed the black metallic capsul
e.
“Cold,” he whispered. He took the bottle in one hand and softly tapped the side of it with the other. “So very cold.”
“Yeah, uh, it’s supposed to be.”
Jules raised his brow. “Oh yeah?”
Maddox nodded, hoping it wasn’t obvious how full of shit he was.
“What, am I supposed to keep it refrigerated or some shit?”
“That would probably be best.”
“Funny,” Jules said. “Vinnie never mentioned any refrigerating bullshit at the meeting. You sure?”
“Uh…” Stalling, he searched for a lie strong enough to get his ass out of there. And then, just like that, it came to him. “Yeah,” he said.
“Oh-kay,” Jules said. He studied the bottle some more. “So I just spray it in my mouth, right?”
“I think so.”
He sniggered. “Would be pretty fucked up to find out you swapped these with some pepper spray or something, huh?”
“Sure would.”
“Hmm.” Jules raised it closer to his face and shrugged. “Well, here goes nothin’.”
He moved his index finger to the top of the bottle and opened his mouth. He pressed down on the trigger and…
And nothing.
He pressed again.
And still nothing.
He shook it and then tried once more.
Nothing.
Fuck.
Jules looked up, puzzled. “Is there something I’m doing wrong? Why isn’t it working?”
“Um.”
The pimp investigated the drug a little while longer and sighed. “Boy, how long have you had this briefcase in your possession?”
“Since yesterday evening. Why?”
“And where, exactly, did you store it between then and now? And please, please do not tell me you were stupid enough to keep it in your trunk.”
“Um.” Maddox suddenly found himself feeling like his brother. Poor guy.
“Because if you did, and I’m thinking you did,” the pimp said, “that would mean the briefcase stayed out all night in the cold. Now, that would have probably been all right if it was maybe July or somethin’, but no, it’s November. The beginning of fuckin’ winter, man. And obviously, this was some liquid type of shit we were dealing with, considering its container and all.” He stared at Maddox, shaking his head disapprovingly. “You know what happens to liquid when you leave it out in the cold, boy?”
Maddox couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do shit. He just stood there, frozen.
“Roach!” Jules called out.
“Yes, boss?” the bodyguard asked.
“Tell this lost soul what happens.”
“It freezes, boss.”
“Correct! You know what that means, Maddox Kane?”
Maddox could only stare at him. Where the hell was Benny?
The bottle of Jericho smashed into Maddox’s forehead.
His first thought was: He wasn’t kidding. That really is cold.
The second one was: Oooowwww!
“It means it’s fucking worthless,” Jules said, and swung his cane at Maddox’s knees, knocking him down to the floor. He felt a large bump already forming on his head as Jules brought the cane down upon it.
The pimp did all of this while staying seated.
Maddox couldn’t help but question his own status as a tough guy. Perhaps prison had weakened him.
The sudden blood rushing down from his skull didn’t seem to help matters either. Jules hit him again and again with the cane and told him had he screwed with the wrong pimp.
Shit, I knew this was going to happen.
* * * * *
Benny was fantasizing turning around and emptying the entire clip into that evil bitch’s dirty ugly face.
He gripped the pistol’s handle tighter and tried his best to relax, but with them kicking his seat every other second and howling into his ear like a couple of dying animals, he didn’t think relaxation was much of a possibility.
If he shot her in that ridiculous glass eye, however, he thought things might be different.
Benny smiled childishly, and probably would have done it if there wasn’t a chance of spilling hooker blood all over his brother’s leather seats. Best to wait until he caught her outside. Maybe when they took her back to the truck stop. She’d step out, with those supernaturally strong legs of hers, and BLAM! she’d die right there in the snow.
POP! goes the lot lizard.
Why doesn’t anyone stop this? It wasn’t as if the motel’s parking lot was totally empty. Plenty of people had strolled by since Maddox’s departure. Although, the guy inside this motel was supposedly a dangerous pimp—maybe it was the neighborhood’s norm to pass a car with two people screwing in the backseat.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check out if there were any apartments available to rent out here. Passing by automobiles full of fornication could totally turn into a hobby of his, he reckoned. Something to do on a Saturday night. Hell, maybe if he was smooth enough he’d get in on some of the action as well. It then crossed his mind that, like now, Jazzy—or something equally horrible—could very well be one of the occupants of these idealistic shagmobiles.
The dream died instantly.
Jazzy kicked the seat once again and sent Benny springing forward against the dashboard, nearly pulling the trigger against his own thigh. He wondered why he was holding the gun so close to his crotch.
That’s it, I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna shoot her. I swear I’m gonna shoot her. I don’t care what it does to the…
Benny’s vision fell upon the time on the car radio. 11:51 A.M.
Crap, did he leave at 11:30 or a quarter ‘til?
He briefly debated asking either Jazzy or Floyd if they remembered, but felt it would probably be in his best interest to not disturb them. They were doing a pretty phenomenal job of disturbing him as it was.
What was he supposed to do—wait another four minutes, or just go for it?
Another four minutes with the hooker and his roommate would be akin to an eternity in Hell. Also, they’d been going at it for a while now, and it could end any second.
Benny feared being this close to them when the time…came.
He shivered, said screw it, and leaped out of the Cadillac. Holding the Beretta against his side, Benny headed for the motel across the parking lot. He placed one foot on the icy steps and nearly slipped on his ass. And if it wasn’t for the handrail, he would have.
Pulling himself back up, Benny wondered how many of those shagmobile gawkers had witnessed his embarrassing slip. Thank God the gun didn’t go off, he thought, and cautiously made his way to room 32, ready to blow away the first sonofabitch he came across.
Guns blazing, baby.
* * * * *
Fuckin’ canes, thought Maddox Kane.
The black and white pimp bashed the cane against Maddox’s ribs, still seated in the same place as before. He was laughing. This was fun for him.
Maddox raised his hands up and blocked the incoming bash, shouting, “Wait! Stop!”
And to his utter disbelief, the pimp stopped.
“What?” Jules said, evidently irritated that he’d been interrupted.
“Stop hitting me!”
“Why?”
“Because it hurts?”
“Oh…well, why didn’t you say so?” Jules asked, and brought the cane down once more across Maddox’s cheekbone. He then twirled it around his hand and rested it on his lap. Maddox didn’t really think he was done being smacked just yet—perhaps just some breather room for the next bloodbath.
After a moment of painful silence, Maddox felt it was finally safe enough to move again. He slowly sat up, panting heavily and leaking a fair amount of blood. Most of his jean jacket and undershirt were now a brownish color. His Cubs cap had fallen off his head ages ago and now lay on the carpet beside him. The bill was stained crimson.
He wiped the blood out of his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket a
nd looked up at the pimp weakly, who was staring directly back down at him. He wore a very cruel expression that Maddox just did not particularly care for.
He gulped. It was a struggle not to swallow too much blood.
“You’re one stupid motherfucker, you know that, Maddox Kane?”
When Maddox didn’t reply, the pimp went on: “Boy, man, sometimes you people crack me up. I mean, of all the things you could have done, you leave it out in the snow. A fortune of drugs…ruined! What were you thinkin’? Huh?”
Maddox coughed and told the truth. “That fuckin’ hooker would have stolen it if I took it inside with me. She already took Floyd. She’s evil, pure evil.”
The pimp eyed Maddox queerly, finally letting out an understandable sigh. “Well, we’ve all been there.”
Jules cracked a small laugh, merrily tapping his fingers along the side of the cane.
“You know,” Jules said, “I bet you would be a pretty all right guy to hang out with.”
Maddox felt a tiny gleam of hope.
“It’s a real shame I’m gonna have to kill you.”
Oh, well, that’s more like it.
“Roach,” Jules said, still not breaking eye contact with Maddox.
“Yes, boss?”
“Shotgun me.”
“One shotgun coming right up, boss.”
Roach bent down near the closet and retrieved a sawed-off shotgun, handed it to Jules, and backed away.
Maddox watched the weapon in Jules’s grip with horror. Where the hell was Benny? He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it.
“Opened or closed?” the pimp asked.
“What?”
“Do you want your coffin opened or closed during your funeral? Jesus, boy, and I thought you called yourself a gangster.”
“Why don’t you just reconsider this whole funeral idea in the first place?” Maddox suggested.
“And what would that do to my ego? You can’t let one nigga slide, ‘cause then you’re gonna be lettin’ all kinds of niggas slidin’, and that’s just bad business right there.”
“I suppose so.” Maddox hung his head low and thought, regretfully, that the pimp actually made a solid point.
Toxicity Page 16
