Savage

by Tiana Laveen

  “The target moves around a lot. He’s erratic and though he doesn’t have a ton of people around him, protecting him, he is quite paranoid and will bounce if he has the slightest suspicion that he is under surveillance and being hunted. Germane also has collected too many enemies from this same city; he wouldn’t make it across the first line of defense. This target’s line of work is quite familiar with him. They’d spot him a thousand miles away. He is a marked man amongst their ilk due to some prior dealings that, shall we say, didn’t end well. Johnson is amazing. There’s no denying that. He is a talented young man with amazing accuracy. He could be your biggest competitor, but I think, for this, I simply need to go in another direction. Therefore, you’re my first pick.”

  “Oh, lucky fuckin’ me. You got any of those little chocolate mints you had last time? I don’t want this visit to be a total waste.” He pointed to an empty crystal bowl on the table and placed his toothpick down. Longhorn quickly opened another desk drawer and hastily tossed about ten of the sweets onto the desk. Savage grabbed a few, putting them in his jacket pocket, and scarfed down the rest.

  “Ask Johnson.”

  “Savage, you have more experience than he does, and that will work to your advantage.” The man shrugged. “I must call it as I see it. So, please stop pretending you’re not rolling this over in your mind. It’s a big jackpot, a big fish. If you ever wished to expand your horizons, as they say, it’s right up your alley, too.” Chewing loudly, Savage looked about the room, noting more paintings of old White men wearing gold crowns or military garb. The paintings were grand, featuring stern-faced generals, warriors, kings and tyrants, and they seemed better suited for the walls of a history museum.

  “There’s nobody Black in here.”

  Longhorn cast him a confused expression. “True. So what?”

  “Well, I just find it curious is all. The first people on the planet were African. You seem to enjoy history, leaders that ruled with iron fists.” Savage got to his feet and began to pace the room, scanning the pieces of art once more. They seemed so lifelike. “Over here you’ve got Joseph Stalin, for instance. Right there is Attila the Hun, I believe.” He reached into his pocket, unwrapped another chocolate, and tossed the wrapper on the floor, smashing it with the thick sole of his black boot. “That looks like Vladimir Lenin over there and right here we have George W. Bush, Sr. Now, I’m not one to criticize anyone for their, shall we say, artistic leanings, but you seem to be drawn to who’s the best, who’s on top, regardless of how ruthless they are. Anyway, I’d like to suggest you expand your collection. Maybe read up on, say, Behanzin Bowelle, also known as “The King Shark.” Interesting shit. Check out, Marcus Garvey, Richard Allen, and Benjamin O. Davis, Sr., just to name a few. Those are some real O.G.s.”

  “Very interesting commentary, Savage. Are you interested in such people due to your current romantic leanings?” Savage shrugged as he walked about the place. “There’s no need for us to beat around the bush, though you became rather irritated when I mentioned your lady friend previously. We know that she’s Black and it seems this has possibly sparked you to diversify your interests.”

  “It could be, but I’ve always included everyone in my history lessons. See, like you, I’m a history buff, too. I like to learn from the past, and if I can learn from another motherfucker’s mistakes, regardless of their race and gender, then I will. If they’re doing some shit right, I want to learn how they did that, too. I can’t live in a place without color, because I’m from Hell. Some of us just pretend to be demonic, but I can spot an imposter… Have you ever been to Hell, Longhorn? Ever looked in the eyes of evil? Everything is gray down here…” They locked eyes. “So.” Savage approached the desk once again, placed his palms on the smooth, polished surface, and leaned forward. “If I accept this offer, I want ninety percent, not eighty.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “That’s my final offer. I’m the one on the front line, not you, and if that much money is being placed on this bastard’s head, then it is serious and he’s a hard target. You obviously know how dangerous this mission is or you wouldn’t have offered any extra icing on top of the shit-cake, so I deserve every penny. Not to mention you want to send me in there solo. And lastly, I demand that you have a sit-down with Austin before the end of the month to air out your differences. You two temperamental little girls having a fit at a tea party are affecting the entire organization, and we’re all sick of this shit. I lost a good man because of your bullshit. I will never forgive you for that.”

  He snatched the cigar, took a hearty puff, then smashed it right into the man’s desk, extinguishing it. “If you don’t like my counter offer, that’s not my problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some other business to attend to.” Savage turned around to vacate the premises but paused when Longhorn called his name.

  “I accept your conditions, Savage. Do you accept the assignment?”

  “Yes. Send me the details. I’ll follow up with you in the morning. Oh, and one more thing.” Savage turned on a dime and shot out the window right above Longhorn’s head, causing him to honker down, the damn thing to shatter and a group of men to race into the study, their guns drawn. “Don’t mention my woman again. That’s a real big pet peeve of mine. She’s not a toy, something you can play with to get your way, toss on the table like dice. I don’t play when it comes to my money and my pussy. You just tried to fuck with both. First and last warning. Tell your boys to not have any more kneejerk reactions.”

  He chuckled as he headed out the door, snapping his fingers to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4…

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cross My Palm With Silver

  The sounds of a drill going full throttle blended in with the blaring music of ‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant. The scent of stale cigarette smoke, oil, and smog clung to the air like snot to a wall, and the humidity made it all the more pronounced.

  The older man, wearing soiled jeans held up by a leather belt and a dirty denim vest smeared with emollient on bare skin, was busy working in the garage. His broad, bare chest, covered in gray hair and crude tattoos, strained against the material of the old garment. Savage entered the open garage attached to the large ranch style home. The sound of his footsteps, or perhaps his shadow, caused the old timer to rise from behind his 2015 Harley-Davidson Wide Glide with a drill in his hand.

  The man donned a black bandana around his sweaty forehead. Long, thin strands of hair, dark blond with auburn, silver, and light brown running through it, twisted into a long braid draped down the center of his back. Sunburned flesh, abundant wrinkles, and a shitload of freckles adorned his face from years of riding hogs in the blazing sun. His body, especially the arms, were completely covered in prison tattoos and a few professional ones during his stints out for a taste of freedom during his youth. For many years, he’d never returned to jail unless it was to visit one of his many incarcerated brethren. He’d been determined to stop stressing Mom the fuck out, and be there for his kids. They wanted him home, where he belonged.

  “There’s my boy!” Savage’s father called out, his grin sporting a black hole on the side where his left incisor tooth had been knocked out in a fight years ago, before he was even born. His dad turned the radio off and stood like the tower of power he was. “Get your ass over here!”

  Savage approached the old man and stiffened when the guy wrapped one arm around him and brought him in for a tight squeeze. He could feel the man’s strength in that simple embrace. Dad had remained physically strong, despite a couple of health scares. They stepped back and eyed each other. The old man’s ice blue eyes looked straight through him, as if he could read his mind.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s up?” Savage slid his hand in his pocket and rocked back on his heels. Dad returned to his bike and continued to work on it.

  “Same ol’, same ol’. Same shit, different day.” The old man chuckled hoarsely. “I’m glad you stopped by… haven’t seen ya in a couple of months. The text mes
sages are fine, but sometimes I’d like to look my only son in the face.”

  “Yeah, been real busy. So what’s up with the bike?” Savage crossed his arms as the man tampered with it. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed in the air.

  “Not a damn thing, believe it or not. Just a routine oil change. Haven’t had many problems outta this bike at all. That’s nice for a change.” Savage nodded. Dad tended to purchase fixer-uppers. Not always because he had to, but he enjoyed the challenge. This time, he treated himself to something that required nothing more than a good time.

  “Need some help? I can finish it for you.” Savage quickly tore off his leather jacket and tossed it on the hood of his father’s old Plymouth, prepared to get his hands dirty.

  “I’ve got it under control but you can hand me that bucket over there,” Dad said, pointing toward the other side of the garage. His large silver Indian chief head ring glimmered as he moved. Savage returned to him with a small black bucket. Setting it beside him, he looked closer at what he was doing. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Where’s Mom? In the house?” Dad grabbed a filthy rag from the back pocket of his jeans, swiped it across his grimy, ruddy face, then jammed it back in its place.

  “Yeah, she’s in there. Might be on the phone.”

  “Is she okay? I’ve had trouble gettin’ a hold of her lately. No response to my calls, one-word answers for the text messages. I started getting worried until I spoke to Shauna and then you.”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s your mom.” The man laughed, though his voice had a tinge of something in it, something Savage couldn’t quite describe. “You know how she is, Max.” True, the woman kept everything inside. He’d learned that early on. Repression was her middle name. “Anyway, she told me the other day she was going to stop by and see ya.” Dad grunted as he toiled. “She must not have gotten around to it yet.”

  Typical…

  His father paused to take a breather. Dirt was smeared along his cheek and on the bridge of his nose. His scruffy white and blonde beard was soiled, too, but a mischievous twinkle gleamed in his eyes.

  “How’s work been?”

  “Good, not too many complaints. Well…” He shrugged, “I could. But it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. I hate that you can’t really ever tell me much about what you’re doing.”

  “Like you really want to know.” Savage smirked.

  “Hell, I do! When I do what you do, I go to prison. When you do it, you get a check and a pat on the back! What kind of bullshit is that?!” Savage burst out laughing. “My son is a hired gun, but I shoot that fuckin’ bastard, Roy, in the groin, and get sent away… It was self-defense!”

  “Losing a card game was not self-defense, Dad. Poker just isn’t your calling. Admit it.”

  “He cheated!” Dad snarled. “He deserved to lose his left nut, stupid son of uh bitch! And don’t you snub my gambling skills. I taught you everything you know! Why do you think you’re so good at it?”

  “I dunno. Lady luck? She must not like you. Mom must’ve run her off in a jealous rage,” he teased, drawing a dirty look from his father. “Blackjack is my thing, you know that. Poker doesn’t give me the same rush.”

  Dad nodded in understanding.

  “Oh, Max, before I forget, would you do me a favor?”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Tell the president to go fuck himself.”

  “I don’t talk to the president and something tells me he’s oblivious to what I do, how it’s done, the logistics, all of it. He’s not exactly in our group, the way some past presidents have been. If you’re hellbent on giving him a piece of your mind though, I’m sure you could tweet it.”

  “Fuck the Internet. Nothing but bad porn and fake news stories.” Dad went back to work. “You could just tell him for me. But that’s kinda your boss, I suppose, so it wouldn’t work out, now would it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “You still helping out that one guy? What was his name? Dallas?”

  Savage burst out laughing and shook his head. “Austin… His name is Austin and yeah I am.”

  “Can he get my man James outta prison, yes or no? You told me you’d ask, have it looked into. Did you?” Dad gave him a stern look, as if he somehow believed his thoughts alone would in some way influence the situation and make all of his wishes come true.

  “Oh, believe me, Austin looked into it all right, Dad, but James killed two cops. You neglected to tell me that.”

  “They were chasing him. It was none of their business.”

  “I can’t believe some of the shit you say sometimes.” Savage couldn’t help but smile, for he knew his father meant every damn word. “This was James’ fault, Dad. Come on now. Remember all the shit you told me about taking accountability for our fuck-ups?” His father rolled his eyes. “Not only did the police incident happen, but he’s a well-known member of your Outlaw Vagos Motorcycle Club, which you know is a ‘no-no’ in the political circles.”

  Dad glared at him. “That’s your family. Show some respect.”

  “I am. I am not bringing it up to down them; they had our backs. I show the utmost loyalty. The problem is, Dad, it doesn’t bode well politically. Strings can’t be pulled as easily if a guy has basically shown the middle finger to the system. I figured maybe Austin could work around that but then there’s the pussy sales… That was the nail in his coffin.”

  “The whores? Well, hell! Half of that entire police force is fucking the same women! The hypocritical bullshit is why I would never join in any gotdamn army, a police force, the Boy Scouts, hell, even what you do! You’re still helping. If it weren’t so sweet of a deal, I’d call you a traitor.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  Dad chuckled. “All right, I wouldn’t, but you know exactly what I mean.”

  “I tried though, regarding James, and Austin couldn’t get anyone to budge. He’s been tied to running a couple pretty big prostitution rings, Dad. It wasn’t a woman or two—we’re talking across state lines, none of them legal. His ass is grass, old man.” Savage slid a cigarette out of his father’s little tin cup that sat on a counter in the garage covered with sullied pieces of cloth and tools, lit it, and blew out a gust of smoke. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Well, shit. That’s some really fucked up news. I wish they’d hear this out. That shit he did was a long time ago. It amazes me how they’ll toss him in prison and throw away the key, but won’t discuss their cocaine habits. I hate those cunts in the White House. The entire government is ass backwards. What happened to the Republican party from my era?! We were proud! They’re going to try ’nd take our guns, too… fuckin’ assholes. I don’t give a shit that I’m a felon. I’m keeping some heat on me at all times and I dare a motherfucker to come in my gotdamn house and try to tell me otherwise.” Dad hawked a wad of spit and went back to working on the bike.

  “No one is taking your guns, Dad, trust me. I have inside information. Anyway, back to what we were saying. According to James’ records, it was only three years ago that he had those prostitutes. Some were interviewed and said it was against their will so he got some additional charges, like kidnapping, and don’t forget he also got wrapped up in that extortion case. He’s not a good candidate for Austin to rally for.”

  “I don’t care what they say. He’s a good guy—turned a new leaf.”

  “Unless you’re talking about a marijuana leaf, no he didn’t.”

  “Anyway, the lawyer he had wasn’t shit, Max! I did take that money you gave me though and we got him another one. Hopefully it’ll make a difference. Anything else going on in your life? Cool trips planned? Gotten any women pregnant? You’re not blowin’ blanks, are ya?”

  They both chuckled at that.

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Savage scratched his head. “I just got back not too long ago from Missouri.”

  “Missouri, huh? Not too bad there. Your birthday
is comin’ up. Gettin’ long in the tooth there, fucker.”

  “I am.” Savage smiled.

  “When are you going to put some roots down somewhere, you handsome son of a bitch?! You got your looks from your mother, that’s for damn sure. You look like a fuckin’ GQ model. You’re an embarrassment to the Savage name!” Dad quipped. “If you had long hair, Danny might try to fuck ya, pretty boy.”

  Savage burst out laughing again, this time until his stomach hurt.

  Danny was a good friend of the family, an Outlaw and a well-known pervert. He’d been caught whacking off in his ex-wife’s flower garden and trying to fuck a literal hole in a wall.

  “Time to find you someone to continue your fucked up last name, Savage. Where’s the pregnant girlfriend, huh? I’ve heard about you…”

  “You’ve heard about me, huh?” Savage rolled his gold skull ring around his finger.

  “Yeah… lots of women. Just like your old man back before I settled down with your mom. You’re a fuckin’ jack rabbit but your days are numbered. Time to get married maybe? Move in with someone at least… Dump some Savage sperm in the well of life we call pussy and hope the baby doesn’t turn out like Chucky, you sick motherfucker.”

  Savage took a drag of his cigarette.

  “Funny you should mention that, Dad, you know, settling down. I met someone.”