by Tim Meyer
“What about?” Blaze paused to listen at the door, afraid his boss would stumble upon them. “I’m at work, you know?”
Dougie chuckled. He glanced at his companion, rubbing the faint blonde beard on his chin. “Hey man, business is business. You’re late on your payment.”
Blaze stiffened. He began to work through his next steps. First, he would strike the greaseball in the throat to incapacitate him. Then he would bring the fight to Dougie. Blaze wouldn’t allow them to beat him up easily. Not that he was too concerned. He was thicker than both men and believed he could out strike them if it came to blows.
ARE YOU CRAZY? IT’S MAFIA. THEY’LL KILL YOU.
Blaze shifted slightly to the left in order to make his body a smaller target.
“I’m sorry. I had to pay rent this week so I’m short. You know I’m good for it. Have I ever screwed you before?” Blaze turned his attention to the man in the suit. “What’s he gonna do? Beat me?”
The greaseball grimaced and moved in Blaze’s direction as if to prove his toughness. Dougie stretched his arm across the man’s chest to keep him in place. “Blaze. Don’t be stupid. Tony is only here to talk.” Tony cracked his knuckles and smirked at Blaze. “That’s all. Nobody is hitting anybody. Okay?”
Blaze steeled himself for a sucker punch. He didn’t believe Dougie. Not that Dougie had ever lied to him in the past. But a drug dealer was a drug dealer. Even if that drug dealer looked like a cheap imitation of John Lennon.
Dougie stepped closer to Blaze. He slowly perched his scrawny arm around Blaze’s shoulder. Blaze allowed the friendly gesture, but he prepared for what might come next. Dougie walked Blaze across the storeroom. The smell of stale beer and dust permeated the cases of liquor and spare tables. Blaze strained his ears to keep tabs on any sudden movements from where Tony remained.
“Look, I like you Blaze. I really do. But you gotta understand, I have mouths to feed. And those mouths have a lot of power.” Dougie glanced behind Blaze at Tony. He lowered his voice. “These guys don’t like to be stiffed. I’d cover for you myself, you know I would. But I just don’t have the means right now.”
Blaze wiggled free of Dougie’s arm. He glared at Tony. Tony chewed a stick of bubble gum as he grinned at Blaze. “So, what’s there to talk about? You guys are gonna break my legs and then leave.”
Dougie laughed. He got Tony to join in the mirth. Dougie swung his long hair over his shoulder with one hand. “I told you. Nobody is breaking nothing. We might be able to come to another arrangement.”
Blaze scratched his dark scalp. He bristled at the offer he knew was coming. Because he had been in Vietnam and had done lots of killing, they would task him with knocking off some other mob boss in order to pay his debts. The job would end up getting him killed anyway. A whole army of greaseballs would stand between him and the target. His chances would be minimal. And these guys wouldn’t care because Blaze couldn’t be tied back to The Family.
Tony approached, his shiny dress shoes scuffing the dirty floor. The smell of Tony’s cheap cologne nauseated Blaze. His bubblegum snapped. Black eyes looked back at Blaze, crowned by smiling laugh lines.
“This is a good deal, Blake.”
“It’s Blaze.”
“Whatever. This country is great because of guys like you. My own Pop fought in France. Killed lots of Krauts. Suffered many tragedies. Came back here and gave my brothers and sisters a good life.” Tony circled Blaze as he spoke. “The things he seen over there, it was rough. I’m sure you seen things too, huh?”
Blaze folded his arms. Dougie winked at him, acknowledging his impatience with the deal. He rolled his eyes. Tony paused, scanning the chaos of the inventory in the storeroom.
“Bad things make you appreciate the good times. You kill a bunch of chinks. And what has your country done for you? Squat. You’re not welcome anywhere. Got no friends. Family don’t want to be seen with you. And now you’re hooked. I feel for you.”
“Is there a point to this? My boss is gonna lose his shit if he finds us back here.” Blaze stepped toward the door. He restrained himself from peeking into the bar. Blaze didn’t want to blow his one opportunity to hold down a steady job.
Tony put his hands on his hips, his jacket flapped over his arms. The powder blue shirt cuffs rode up to reveal an expensive gold watch and fingers full of rings. “You have to take advantage, Blake. We can become…partners.” Tony opened his arms as if to invite Blaze into his life. “One hand washes the other. And we all get what we want.”
“What do you want?”
“Access. You let us use this place for some things.” Tony glanced around the storeroom. He lifted a sheet draped over old tin signs and wooden frames. “And we look the other way when you can’t pay some bills.”
Blaze felt sick. His needs scratched beneath his skin. A thin sheen of sweat broke out along the back of his neck. Blaze wanted to tear Tony apart. But he couldn’t help his sickened desperation. Blaze licked his dry lips.
“See, Blaze. We came for good reasons. Huh? Whaddaya think?” Dougie rejoined the discussion. He smiled back at Tony as he moved his sunglasses from his nose to the top of his head.
Blaze broke down. He agreed to the terms of the deal. The gnawing of his addiction hastened the argument in favor of Tony. Blaze would sneak them in and out of the brewery, behind his boss’ back. All they wanted was to stow away some “hot” goods and shoot a dirty film occasionally. In exchange for the clandestine space, they would give Blaze the best heroin this side of the world and forgive his debts.
It seemed an easy deal to make.
But what about Matt? After all Matt had done for him, this was how he would repay his kindness?
When Blaze returned from the war, he couldn’t find work or a place to live. One look at his stuff bag and shaved head was all it took for doors to slam in his face. Even his folks turned him away when they found the track marks dotting his skin. Just when Blaze had been on the brink of suicide, he had run into Matt in the brewery.
He remembered it like it was yesterday.
Strung out with no options left, Blaze figured he would attempt to drink himself to death. He had been drawn to the brewery, feeling a magnetic pull pulse through his boots. The weathered façade reminded Blaze of a weary sailor’s countenance. The cracked shutters like fuzzy eyebrows perched upon sad eyes. An ancient wooden door welcomed him like dry lips accepting a wrinkled cigarette. The massive structure stoic along the dusty landscape of a time that had long ago been forgotten.
And the upstairs window. It stood alone like the third eye chakra of a foreign god, watching over the patrons who defied the signs of lurking darkness within.
Blaze had shaken off the goosebumps crawling along his tanned flesh. He had ignored the sensation of a presence that followed him from behind the warped panes of that solitary window. He had shrugged and decided the brewery was as good a place as any to finish his struggle.
Matt had been covering the bar because Tina, the bartender, had called out sick with “female issues.” Matt had engaged Blaze in conversation as he tried to close the brewery that night. Blaze’s slurred speech and sad story connected with Matt. His benefactor offered him a place to stay, a simple cot in the back and an honest day’s wage if he would promise to work hard and help out around the brewery. Blaze had cried as Matt tucked him in that night.
Once he had saved up some money, Blaze had found an apartment in town where the landlady was too old and blind to realize he had been a soldier. She only cared about the money to support her golden years.
After all Matt had done for Blaze, when nobody else would give him a chance, he would betray the kindness that he had been given. Blaze clenched his fists. Tony’s words echoed in the recesses of his mind.
“You didn’t survive that war only to come home and be killed, didya?”
Blaze punched a hole in the storeroom wall.
***
The image reflected in the mirror scared the hell out of him
. Blaze wondered how much of the monster that stared back at him was the thing that fed his addiction. Warped angles around his jawline and forehead morphed, adding to the nausea which swirled in his belly. Blaze splashed some cold water on his face, took a deep breath, and did his best to straighten himself before leaving the restroom. Dougie had given him some truly strong “medicine” as a down payment towards their new arrangement.
Blaze opened the restroom door. He glanced around the hallway, careful to avoid Matt. The coast was clear. Blaze returned to the bar to finish his work. When he rounded the corner, Matt waved him over from behind the bar. Blaze blinked hard to clear the fog from his wobbly brain. He smiled at Tina. Matt tossed a filthy dishrag over his left shoulder. He signaled Blaze to follow him into the storeroom.
As they entered, Matt slammed the storeroom door shut. Blaze jumped, but more so in his mind than physically. His body still felt numb and slow from the dose.
“Can I ask you an important question?”
Blaze nodded without removing his gaze from the floor.
“Who were those guys? And why the hell are they back here?” Matt threw the dishrag across the room. The dry rag hardly sailed across the stacks of beer. The ire in Matt’s tone scared him. Even though Matt was shorter than Blaze, his stocky build and Irish temper were enough to cause concern.
“Just some friends.” Blaze wiped at the sensation of saliva along his lips.
“Just some friends.” Matt parroted Blaze. His graying, reddish hair dulled against the hostile flush which filled Matt’s angry features. “I have friends, too. I don’t show them around the back of the brewery, Blaze.” Matt dipped his head, drawing Blaze’s attention. “Why were they back here?”
Blaze thought for a moment before responding. He needed to come up with something plausible or everything would implode. No access to the brewery, then no drugs. And he would have to come up with the funds to cover his debt. Quickly.
“Uh, they wanted to understand the business. Um, they might open up a place of their own.”
Matt folded his arms across his chest. Experienced muscles twitched along his forearms. His head nodded furiously. “I see. So, you gave them a personal tour so they could figure out how to compete with us and put me out of business. Is that it?” Matt’s voice sounded on the brink of outward hostility.
“No, not like that.”
“Not like that, huh?” Again, Matt used Blaze’s words to taunt him.
“I mean, they were thinking of opening a brewery a couple of counties over. They just wanted to get a simple look. That’s all.” Blaze dug his hands deep inside the pockets of his threadbare jeans. He felt the tremors working down to his fingers.
Matt walked a tight circle. His breathing came through his nostrils like a bull, heavy and steaming. “I don’t know, man. I gave you a chance. You brought people in here without my permission. You shared MY trade secrets. And they didn’t look like friends I would want to be seen with in public. I’m not sure what kind of friends these clowns are. You…” Matt stopped mid-sentence and leaned closer to Blaze. “Are you high, man?”
Blaze backed up a few steps. “No, man. I’m clean.”
Matt glared. Blaze felt as if his eyes roamed within his soul, searching for the truth. A trail of sweat broke out along his back.
“You better not be getting fucked up on the job. And nobody else gets a fucking tour, you understand me?” Matt poked an iron finger into Blaze’s chest.
“Yes.”
“Louder. I can’t hear you.”
“Yes.” Blaze elevated his words above the mumbled whisper he originally gave. Matt’s authority mirrored the drill instructor’s in boot camp. He tried to maintain eye contact with Matt, but, every few seconds, the guilt tugged his attention to sporadic objects around the room.
“I like you, Blaze. I fell for your story and gave you an opportunity. You became like a brother to me. But I can’t have you giving away my business. I’ve worked too hard to build this place up from nothing, especially to have a junkie Vet blow it for me. I’m fucking pissed, Blaze. Don’t mistake my charity for weakness.” Matt rubbed his face. “I’ll fire you. I’ll do it. Don’t make me. Don’t force my hand. I can deal with slip-ups occasionally. But, if you betray my trust, Blaze, then I will cut you out quicker than you can spit. Am I understood?”
Blaze fought every fiber of his being from collapsing inside his drug-induced blanket. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep off the sweetness flowing in his veins. Blaze needed to control himself, get through the tongue-lashing. Then he could figure out the rest of the plan. In his heart of hearts, Blaze felt sorry for Matt. He knew his addiction would lead him to the betrayal Matt warned him against. Until then, Blaze would lie.
“I’m sorry. Really sorry, Matt. I should’ve cleared it with you first. I would never give up your secrets.” Blaze scratched at the back of his scalp. “I promise. I won’t be so stupid again. I’m really, really sorry.”
Matt bent to pick up the dishrag. He glowered at Blaze for what seemed an eternity. His finger jabbed Blaze’s chest once again, reinforcing his warning.
“I won’t hesitate, man. Fuck up, and you’re out.” Matt slung the rag over his shoulder, nearly running over Tina on his way into the bar.
Blaze attempted to look busy, as if he had been moving supplies around the room the entire time. He didn’t want Tina to know he had gotten chewed out. Since he had laid eyes on her, Blaze had had a mild crush on Tina. She was almost a decade older than he was, but she was extremely attractive and had a stunning figure. Blaze had always had something for redheads, even though she was more of an auburn than a true redhead.
“Everything good back here?” Tina looked for a crate of beer mugs.
“Yep. Just doing my job.” Blaze’s words hung in the air as if he had something else to say but had thought better of it. Tina caught him checking out her rear as she stood up with the crate of mugs.
“Sounded like Matt was upset.”
Blaze shrugged off her comment. Tina was either fishing for gossip or she already knew the answer, having overheard Matt’s raised voice.
“Oh, we’re good now. I just…made a mistake.”
Tina slammed the crate of mugs down on a couple of kegs. She neared Blaze. His breath caught in his throat.
“We get that a lot around here. Matt has a habit of getting lots of bugs up his ass.” She grinned and snapped her gum. Blaze couldn’t help himself. He allowed his eyes to linger on hers for an extended moment. He smiled back.
“I brought my friends back here. Matt didn’t like it.” Blaze sat back against some pallets. “It was harmless, but I get Matt’s point.”
Tina slapped Blaze’s shoulder. “He’ll get over it. A few pints and he’ll be humming drinking songs from his ancestors.”
They shared a short laugh.
“So how do you know these friends of yours?” Tina tilted her head, adjusting the band which propped up her hair.
Blaze scrambled to come up with a cover story, something that would pass muster should Tina and Matt talk.
“Well,” he paused, as if figuring out how to tell her. Suddenly, a detailed lie popped into his head. It was too detailed to be confused for a lie. “I served overseas with Dougie’s brother. He didn’t make it back. I brought Dougie his belongings.” Blaze wrinkled his brow as if he were biting back tears.
Tina ate up the story. “That’s so sad. At least you made it back, honey.” She rubbed his arm with compassion.
Tina left Blaze to finish his work. As she picked up the case of mugs, Tina turned toward Blaze. “Tony is cute, huh?”
Blaze bristled.
“You should’ve introduced me to him. You know, I used to do some acting back in the day. And Tony offered me a part in a new film he is shooting. How lucky is that?”
Tina hurried from the storeroom, all giddy with potential fame and fortune as a re-discovered movie starlet. Blaze struggled to keep his anger in check. He understo
od what type of movie Tony was interested in shooting. And Blaze had no intention of letting Tina get caught up in mobster adult filth.
He clutched the end of a pallet so hard, the wood fractured, splinters jamming under his skin. The high he had been enjoying had been overrun with rage.
***
Crawling along the stained, gray tiles, Blaze fought the surge of dope flying throughout his system. The needle was still jammed in the crook of his right arm. A trickle of blood leaked from the pinhole surrounding the head of the needle.
Mortars go off all around him. Palm fronds shake like evil banshees trying to scare him from his spot along the jungle floor. Screams behind him reveal one of his comrades is hit. Another shell strikes the earth at his 9 o’clock. The ground rocks beneath him, lifting his body up and slamming him back down. Machine gun fire rips through the greenery ahead. Blaze tucks his head into the soil, a grimy hand holding his helmet to shelter his skull.
RAT-TAT-TAT. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT.
Blaze needs to find his platoon. They were separated when the ambush struck. Mulroney and Schwartz were shredded. Mulroney had been pointing out their objective on his soiled map. He was mid-sentence when a heavy round tore his left arm clear of his body. He let loose the most sickening noise Blaze had ever heard before it was cut off by another round straight through his windpipe. Schwartz had been radioing in their coordinates for the potential Pickup Zone when small arms fire peppered his chest. Blaze heard the air hiss from his friend’s lungs as he dropped. The recognition of the end evident in Schwartz’s expression.
The neon sign in the bathroom window flickered and buzzed. Flashes of blueish-purple refracted off the tile walls.
Blaze wanted to scream. So much terror. But he was afraid the dinks would zero in on his location. He inched along the moist turf, trying to see through the smoke and chaos. Blaze heard his commanding officer barking out orders. Tucking his chin into the dirt, Blaze crawled in the direction of Sergeant Polk. He hoped to re-group with his brothers in arms.
