Friday, July 31, 2009

THIS GUY SITTING NEXT TO ME HAS NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING

Look at me, sitting in a coffee shop instead of on top of it. I’m writing this, drinking a cup of coffee like a regular human being. No one would think that I’m about to meet with a guy who tried to kill me.


And none of these people are stupid enough to get in touch with a woman who is setting them up for murder and assault. I’m using her computer to write this. Her phone number is in the address book. Why does someone put their own information in the address book? In case they get hit on the head and have amnesia? Some fucking soap opera? I hit Mrs. Nerd on the head with my phone call.


She didn’t expect it and stammered for a bit while I talked slow, repeating, “I’m not calling to kill you. I’m not calling to kill you.”


“What, what, what? Why did you call?”


It was a hell of a lot easier talking to her on the phone, when she wasn’t swinging a seven iron at my face. “I understand why you did what you did to me. You’re too stupid to see that I’m the only guy who can get you out of this.”


“Don’t call me stupid, you piece of shit. This is all your fault. You were too stupid to handle it.”


“The Nerd was never going to get his payoff. If I’d stayed out of it, he’d be as dead as he is now and you’d still be broke.” She was quiet and listening. I hit her with, “Only difference is, you wouldn’t have any blood on your hands. But I had nothing to do with that. That was your decision.”


Mrs. Nerd stayed silent for a minute. I didn’t care, I had change. Jasmine set me up with a little cash before we split, more guilt. She’s paying for this cup of coffee.


I let Mrs. Nerd pace or stand still or stare at herself in the mirror or whatever she was doing on the other end of the phone. Then I heard her take a breath and she said, “Why did you call?”


“Because I’m not stupid. Because I got to who the Nerd was dealing with, broke him down. He’s going to pay now.”


“Good for you.” Said through gritted teeth.


“Doesn’t do me much good when the cops want me for murder. We need to deal.”


“I want ninety percent.”


She was quick. I can see how she motivated the Nerd into a fine job and a ton of debt. Bet he wasn’t imagining watching her stick him with a knife over and over until he was dead when he said, “I do.”


“I’m going to give you fifty percent.”


“Not enough.”


“You don’t even know what the payoff is.”


“Doesn’t matter. Ninety percent.”


“Fifty. And I’ll tell you—”


Bitch cut me off. “You’re wanted for murder, Trey. You have no leverage.”


“I’m doing all the heavy lifting. I’m putting my ass on the line and if I wasn’t, you wouldn’t get anything.”


“Eighty percent. And this negotiation is over.”


Then I went silent, like I was thinking about it. “Fine. For eighty percent you drop all the charges and come up with another story of who did it.”


“Fine. When do you get the money?”


“Soon.”


“And how much is it?”


“Two million.”


“That’s all you could get?” Glad she isn’t my mother.


“One point six for you. You can’t live on that, you ain’t living right.”


“Let me know as soon as you have it.”


“Where’s the knife?”


She knew which knife I was talking about. “They’ll never find it.”


“We need to find it. We need to pin this on someone else. I know just the guy. Friend of mine from back home who’s in town. So where’s the knife?”


“I cleaned it off. Threw it over the bluffs. It’s in the trees and bushes. I don’t know how you’ll find it.”


“Let me worry about that. Kitchen knife?”


She must have been remembering how it felt in her hand when she killed her husband.
“Yeah.” Her voice shook like all the bricks of her body were about to rattle loose.


“What about your clothes? You get rid of them?”


“Fireplace.”


“This is all too bad,” I told her, slow and serious. “We could’ve made some noise you and me.”


“We did.”


“Maybe on the other side of all this, when you land and I land. Might be in the same spot.”
Don’t get the wrong idea, Tokyo. If you’re reading this. It was business. It’s always better to keep your business buttered.


“Maybe.” She sounded sad and hopeful, but not for me. She just wanted a way out of the trouble and the crazy in her head.


I wanted to hang up on her. I want to hang up on her for good. “I’ll get in touch when I have the money. Should be soon, maybe today or tomorrow.”


“Good.”


“Then this’ll all be over. We can start over.” I sounded like a fucking girl.


She was stone cold. “Call me when it’s ready. I have to go.”


Mrs. Nerd hung up without waiting for my goodbye or my kisses through the phone. Wasn’t going to give them anyway. I just need her on the hook until I’m in the clear.


And I’ll be clear soon. Quarter to one. Short walk to the meet with Rodeo. Caffeine’s pumping. My cup of coffee is empty and I’m ready to finally get what I want.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

GUILT

One block where she was vulnerable. That’s all it takes. I’ve said it before, girls got to be careful out there. Walking back from lunch, Jasmine was on her cell phone and wasn’t looking over her shoulder.

I had found the Santa Monica address for her production company on the internet and followed her out the front door and watched her eat lunch from across the street. On her way back, I stepped up to her side and kept pace with her, talking low. “Keep walking.”

She jumped out of her skin and dropped her big cup of diet soda. The ice went everywhere and she didn’t even wipe the liquid off her hand. “The cops are looking for you,” she said. “They talked to me about you.”

“Everyone’s got the wrong idea. Helen Dunne told the cops I killed her husband.”

“You didn’t?” She wouldn’t look at me, kept her eyes straight ahead and I could feel how she wanted to start running.

“Why the fuck would I do that? You know who killed him.”

“No, I don’t.” But she was just telling herself that so she wouldn’t feel guilty.

I fed her the line, kept her on the hook. “Rodeo killed him. He stuck him with a knife until he died. They found his body in the same park where the drop went down. Did you set up the Nerd? You tell him to meet Rodeo there that night?”

“No.” She stopped walking and looked me in the face. “I got them in touch one time. The first time when I thought it would be a simple deal. After that, they talked directly to each other.”

“It’s never a simple deal, is it?”

“The cops want you. Rodeo wants you.” Sig, too, I added in my head. She asked like I was crazy, “What are you still doing here?”

“I have this.” I held up the thumb drive. She pulled back from like it had the curse of the mummy. “I want to get rid of it. I want a little money from Rodeo. Less than I wanted before, but a real deal this time. No tricks.”

“You’ve been fucking with him too much. He won’t go for it.”

“Then you take it.” I pushed the drive toward her and she backed up. “Take it and sell it to him for me.”

“I don’t want it.”

“The only person who does want it wasn’t willing to pay straight. He tried to fucking kill me. Call him. Get him on the phone right now. Let me talk to him.”

“I have to get to work.” She checked her watch and glanced around for a way out. “I have a meeting.”

“A meeting? A fucking meeting?” I showed her the thumb drive again. “One person’s already dead because of this. Call Rodeo. Let’s get this done and maybe we’ll live to spend the money.”

You notice I never said I’d split the money with her. Made it seem that way and she was motivated. Mostly, though, I think she was doing it out of guilt. With one small contact, she managed to get the Nerd killed. Let her think Rodeo did it, instead of Mrs. Nerd. For Jasmine, it doesn’t really matter who killed him. It all comes back to her.

She took her phone out of her purse and looked at it, at me. Deep breath and she dialed. “Hey. You’ll never guess who I have with me.”

Jasmine handed the phone to me and whispered, “Finish it.”

He was beyond pissed. “You fucking motherfucker cocksucker….”

I cut him off. “That’s what you get, asshole. Wouldn’t it have been cheaper to pay me in the first place? This is what you get for double-crossing me.” Must have been yelling because a couple of people on the street looked at me funny. I started walking and found a quiet doorway in front of a building for lease. Jasmine followed, arms folded across her chest, chewing on her lower lip.

Rodeo still steamed. “You never should’ve picked up that bag.”

“And I know why. Because you don’t want to deal with a real player like me. It was easier when you could manipulate the Nerd. Well, now you killed him, so you have to do business with me.”

“I didn’t kill that worm.” Rodeo’s the kind of guy that only lies to his mother and the cops. Give her a kiss on the head and tell her that he owns restaurants and she believes it. And with the cops, he’s a business man with lowlife friends but no trouble of his own. He didn’t need to lie to me. But it sounded like he was disappointed he didn’t get to put the Nerd in the ground.

I wasn’t going to tell Jasmine that, though. Gotta keep the girl motivated.

I had to keep things on track. Might be a light at the end of the tunnel. “You ready to do business? Or should I keep fucking you all over town?”

“You keep doing it, I catch you eventually. Then you die.”

“I’ll be dead and your legit business will be screwed and good luck finding crooks for your side projects like the black bag. You think anyone’ll deal with a guy dancing on the stove like you? Cheaper if you deal now.”

Silence. Jasmine stared at me, waiting for the answer. I waited, too. Finally he said, “I don’t discuss prices over the phone. We meet.”

I remembered a big sign on the outside of the body odor Los Angeles library. “Farmers’ market by the library, one o’clock.” I gave him the address.

“See you then.” If the tone of his voice was a knife, I’d be bleeding to death.

Jasmine didn’t know what to say, but looked tired and worried. I can’t afford to be tired. The clock is always ticking. I gathered my swagger. “Told you it would make a great movie.” I gave Jasmine her phone back. Might be giving Jasmine her life back.

The meet is on for tomorrow. I'm Batman again on the rooftop with Mrs. Nerd's laptop. Gotta sleep. Clock's ticking. I'm fucking tired of this. Gotta sleep. Gotta get my money. Then I gotta get out of this town.

Friday, July 24, 2009

SEVEN IRON

No one’s going to believe me now. Cops’ll shoot first and save the questions for my corpse. Tokyo, if you’re reading this, you got to know that everything I say is true. No reason to lie.

I’m writing this from the roof of the coffee shop, poaching their wifi. Stole another laptop. You’ll never believe whose this is. Mrs. Nerd.

Every fucking time I try to make things better, they get worse. How the fuck am I going to get my payoff and disappear with all this shit coming down?

I went to Mrs. Nerd, her name is Helen, to tell her I didn’t off her husband. A quick visit. I hopped the back fence, in case the cops were watching the front.

“I know you didn’t.” Her face was calm. There was no sugar coating on the woman anymore, but she wasn’t worn down. She seemed more real than ever. Watched as I finally washed all the sand and blood off my face.

“So you didn’t tell the cops about me?”

“No.” She was making me a sandwich. I ate an apple, handfuls of chips, couple of cookies. Still have an another apple in my backpack, some energy bars.

“They have any idea who did it?”

“No.”

I told her I was still on the hook for my payoff, but when I got it, I’d shine the light on Rodeo so the cops could get him for the Nerd’s killing.

She smiled at this, said that at least someone would get a payoff. Talked about selling the house, maybe going back to Florida. Something about bankruptcy and life insurance not covering the debts. Tried listening, but she was talking mostly for herself.

I ate the sandwich and she sat and watched me, then asked when I was getting the payoff from Rodeo. Didn’t know. Still don’t. Especially now.

Mrs. Nerd told me to wait in the living room and she’d bring some clothes down that might fit me. She drifted upstairs, silent as a ghost. Food wasn’t sitting well in my stomach. Felt sick. Something was wrong.

Like being in the Nam tunnels with my dad, using every sense I had. Just the smallest sound upstairs. The clean crack of glass. No footsteps though. She was that quiet.

I was reaching for my backpack when I saw the display on the downstairs phone. LINE IN USE. Another fucking doublecross.

I got my backpack on, ready to bail, when Mrs. Nerd comes down the stairs. She’s got a cordless phone in one hand, screaming, “He’s here! The man who killed my husband!” In her other hand was a seven iron. She was swinging the club like a fucking Viking. Vases exploded. Glass shelves disappeared into galaxies. I’m ducking and running like a crab to stay under the iron. She’s still screaming into the phone, “He broke in the upstairs window. I think he’s going to kill me.”

Bullshit, that bitch was trying to kill me. I saw the hole in the wall that was meant for my head. She dropped the phone and put both hands on the club so she could really swing it. No way I could get close enough to take it from her. And if I fought her straight up, gave her a right hook with a closed hand, it would just make me look more guilty.

All I wanted was an exit. She knew that and broke that house down all around me, blocking any clear run out of the place. I felt the clock ticking. Like a quarterback, don’t they say that? He knows when he’ll get sacked even if he doesn’t see the rush. Except when he gets sacked, they lose yards, maybe the game. I get sacked by the cops, I lose my life.

I picked up a chair and blocked some of the club, angled myself toward the front door. She came on strong then, even kicked at me under the chair. I wasn’t going to let her kill me. I wasn’t going to let her stall me until the cops showed up.

Before you judge me, understand that she wanted me dead. For no good reason. She knew I didn’t kill her husband. Should I just have laid down and let her put the iron in my skull?

No. Caught her on the backswing. Pushed the chair against her, ran her body back until she hit a wall. She groaned and her head snapped back into the sheetrock. She didn’t drop the club, but her grip was looser. This was my chance to get out.

I dropped the chair, grabbed her laptop from a small desk and ran out the front door.

Rich neighborhoods get the cops fast. I was barely a block away when I heard the sirens. Kept running until I remembered this spot. Took an hour for my heart to stop pounding.

Fucking bitch. If the cops weren’t looking for me before, I’m public enemy #1 now. And what the hell does she get for it? She knows I didn’t kill the Nerd. Why the hell would I do something like that?

Oh, shit. I get it. You probably saw it coming, didn’t you? Could’ve said something earlier. She wants to pin the murder on me.

Because she did it.

Say she cancelled his credit cards like I told her to. He comes home with his tail between his legs and no money. But it isn’t enough to have her husband back. Mrs. Nerd wanted her world back and there’s no way of that ever happening now. It’s all over for her, like waking up from a nice dream and finding yourself surrounded by tarantulas. Last time I had seen her, she was cracking, selling off the good life and losing her identity. I know all about leaving things behind. When you got nothing, you learn who you really are. I’m a stone-cold badass. At her core, she’s a killer. But the Nerd doesn’t know that. He walked into that house without a clue. Mrs. Nerd has him show her where the dead drop went down. But he doesn’t know she brought a kitchen knife along with her. They’re in the dark and she gets that calm look on her face. I know that look now. It means, “You’re dead.”


I’m dead.
Been dead since Ballentine. Might as well go down fighting.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

SORRY I SCARED YOU

Sons of bitches rolled me out of the condo. That’s what got me back to your side of town.

After leaving the college library, I pulled some bills off my shrinking wad for food and ate as I walked back to the condo. I knew something was up when I saw a flashlight bouncing off the walls in the condo next to mine. Stepping closer to investigate means getting caught. I bailed, backpack strapped on. I lost a pair of socks and underpants, a t-shirt and a good place to sleep.

That’s not the worst of it.

I went back to Santa Monica. It was like reaching into a hollow, rotting log and searching for a gold ring, knowing the scorpions were in there waiting to sting you to death. Thought I’d drop in on Jasmine and have her set up a little face time with me and Rodeo. Didn’t even make it to her street. Scorpion stung.

Sig.

I was glad.

He was dirty and fucked up looking, had been sleeping outside like I had been. He’s not such a badass when he doesn’t have his gang. Or his car. Because he wasn’t mobile, he must have been staying in the parks, waiting for me to show up again. But I couldn’t just walk up and step on him like a bug. I knew he still had his 9mm stinger.

We spotted each other from across a street. It was quiet, real late at night. I didn’t have a chance against the gun. I stashed my backpack in some plants by a parking lot so I could streamline. Keeping Sig in sight and keeping my distance, I backtracked through the neighborhood. He tried to close the distance, but I would quicken my pace to stay out of his spraying range. Sig thought I was running away from him. I took us to the only safe spot that time of night.

Up on Wilshire is a 7/11, the lights are always on and before all this trouble started I would go there to spend what money I had on cookies or jerky or anything to get me by. In that parking lot, lit up and in full view of the dude behind the counter, I stopped and waited for Sig to close the distance.

The idiot was smiling when he stepped up and came within a foot of my face. I wanted to crush him with my hands until he was just meat. Then I’d feed him to the Rail Riders who turned on me. Sig pulled his plaid shirt aside to show the but of the Glock in his waistband.

I cocked my head toward the guy in the 7/11. “What’re you going to do, Sig? Shoot me in front of him and the security cameras? Then what, run all the way to Ballentine?”

Sig’s smile shook. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” That was all he could come up with. “Just like I killed your dad.”

Time slows down when you move fast. I pushed Sig in the chest with one hand. With the other, I grabbed the handle of the Glock. Damn, that gun feels good in the hand. I remember the texture of the plastic, the weight. And my brain was turning so fast that I realized that I had cornered myself. He couldn’t shoot me and I couldn’t drill him. I wanted to pull that trigger, the gun was ready. But I was sure the cops already wanted me for the Nerd’s stabbing. Shooting Sig in public would really heat up the manhunt.

Sig was still stumbling backwards when I decided I couldn’t shoot him right then. I threw the gun with all the strength I had. It flew across the parking lot and into some giant window of a building next door. Sounded like a big drum. Then the gun landed in some bushes.

Next thing I saw was the yellow lights around the parking lot. I was on my back. Fucking Sig punched me in the face. I rolled out of the way when he tried to kick me in the head. I put the tread of my boot on his knee and it gave me enough space to stand up. A little dizzy and saw some stars, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

Sig turned and started running for the bushes where the gun fell. I chased and he veered away when he saw how many bushes there were. He knew that if I got to him before he got the gun, it would be a hell of a beatdown. So he kept running.

Across wide Wilshire Boulevard. I was hot after him. Just him and me and a score to settle. We scattered pigeons out of the park over the bluffs. Woke up some bums.

Caught wheezing Sig by a tree and dove at his legs. We went down into the grass and wrestled, making pain where we could. He was hissing in my ear, “No one’s going to miss you. No one misses your dad. Even the Rail Riders gave your ass up because of him.”

I don’t know why he thought that would make me give up. Just made me fight harder. Almost tore his ear off. He kicked me in the stomach and ran again while I was trying to breathe.

Thought I had him cornered. Sig was up against the fence at the edge of the bluffs. I collected enough of myself to keep at him. Had a fantasy of throwing him over the bluffs and watching him fall. It’s got to be a hundred feet down. And at the bottom is a highway. A truck could drive over him.

Then I thought he took care of that for me. Sig disappeared. Could’ve sworn he tossed himself over for the big fall. When I got closer to the spot where he was, I saw that there were stairs leading down. And Sig was booking it on them and heading for a bridge over the highway.

Fucker was all the way on the other side when I hit the bridge. We both got spit out on the other end in an empty parking lot by the beach. Sig kept running.

Then we were both going in slow motion. Sand is impossible to move in. He stumbled, I stumbled. We crawled and I ate sand and felt it in my eyes. Waves were crashing about a hundred yards away.

Getting punched in the face hurts. Getting punched in the face by a fist wrapped in sand paper hurts worse. It was ugly, down there on the beach. I won’t lie. I tried to kill Sig with my hands.

But you got to know, Tokyo, why this all came down. He killed my dad. I’m fighting to stay alive. I’m fighting back.

It was dark and neither of us were any good at brawling in the sand. We lost each other. I couldn’t figure out if I was standing up or lying down. Black sand and water and sky. No fucking idea where I was. And I thought every shadow was Sig. Don’t know how long I wandered around at the edge of the beach and the highway. There are some buildings down there and I hid out, tried to get my bearings.

The sun came up. Beach was pale, like someone had cut its throat.

I used a spigot to wash the sand and blood off my face and knuckles. But I wasn’t clean. That’s how you saw me, Tokyo. Sorry I scared you. You were just out for your morning run, right?

I took the bridge and stairs back to the bluffs. The town was coming alive, walking its dogs and riding its bicycles. And there you were, Tokyo. You didn’t even see me at first, just another bum. Then you saw my face, recognized me. Then you saw how beat up I was. Sorry I scared you. All I could think was to tell you the name of this blog, so you’d understand.

You ran away. Don’t know if you’re reading this now. Hope you are. I’m not that far from you, at a library and I can’t come back here after this because people are looking at my face. Hope you understand me, Tokyo. I’m just fighting to stay alive.

Friday, July 17, 2009

C4 AND CLAYMORE

Stabbed to death. There was one more article about the Nerd’s killing. They said he was stabbed to death at the park. Rodeo did to the Nerd what the Nerd tried to do to me with the dagger. I keep the knife in my backpack now. Can’t give it up, but I don’t want to be caught by the cops with it in my pants, like I’m the killer still hungry for more. Couldn’t find any more news about the Nerd. It was already old news for everyone else but me and Rodeo and Mrs. Nerd and Jasmine. I’m sure the cops are still interested, too.

That’s why it was a big risk walking into that restaurant in Santa Monica. Super fancy place, with a bar downstairs and probably tables up top. Another place Jasmine told me Rodeo had a piece of. I strutted in like I belonged. Never underestimate a little swagger. The hair- gelled guys and big blonde girls all looked at me like I was someone. I am someone, motherfuckers. I’m Trey, the guy who hopped a train to Los Angeles and messed this town up.

The barmaid came by and liked what she saw, but that’s her job, right?

“What can I get you?”

“Pickup truck with a full tank of gas, redwood two by fours and a bag of concrete.”

She must have heard it all, didn’t even blink. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Get the hell out of this city and build a house.”

“Sounds nice. Call me when you hook up the plumbing.”

I’ll call Tokyo first. “Plumbing? Hadn’t planned on that.”

“I’ll bring you some extra napkins to draw the blueprints. What are you drinking?”

“Drinking blood tonight. I want Rodeo.”

Now she blinked. Then glanced at the bartender, a burly fucker who looked like he could crack a telephone pole in half over his knee.

I smiled to make her feel better, but it didn’t work. “Not looking for trouble, sugar. Looking for Rodeo. Is he here?”

“No.” She wasn’t lying. She was relieved.

“Give him a message. Tell him that the guy he tried to kill is looking for him.”

She kind of stammered, “I can remember that,” then studied my face, like trying to memorize it.

“No doubt.” But I wasn’t done fucking with Rodeo. “And tell him that I planted a wad of C4 around the gas line to the kitchen of this restaurant. And there are claymore mines pointed toward all the exits. Can you remember that?”

Her eyes went bigger than dinner plates. She put her tray down and glanced around like the whole place was ready to go to hell any second. “You serious?”

I leaned close and whispered, “Finger’s on the trigger.” Then I turned and walked toward the front door. Super fucking ice cold.

The barmaid ran to the bar yelling, “Todd! Todd!” and things started getting electric so I booked faster and ran out to the street and across traffic and didn’t stop until all I heard was the sirens.

Didn’t see anything in the online news about it today, but people’ll be talking. Were you there? Did you run out with everyone else? Or did you see the cop cars and the flashing lights from the street? Sorry if the false alarm fucked up your evening. I was just taking a bite out of Rodeo’s business. Hope it hit him hard. Would’ve been cheaper to pay me in the first place. He’s learning that now and will pay with good cash when the time comes. Soon.

Until then, I can snipe at him and come back to the comfort of this college. Nice around here. School’s out for summer and there are only a few people wandering around the campus. Dedicated types that can’t get enough learning, I guess.

Funny, I couldn’t jump out of school fast enough. Barely graduated high school and that was it for me. No JC, no Washington State. Am I going to stand in the rain while the football team gets all the glory? Hell no. Sold weed to the football players, went to some of their parties, but never thought I was college material. I learn it from doing. That’s how I got good pouring concrete for fence posts. And who ever got a girl off from things he read in a book? Gotta learn on the job to develop the real skills.

But college could’ve taught me different ways of making money than selling weed and picking up someone else’s dead drop.

No chance of getting that education now. But I can almost see myself here. Hanging out and talking trash in class and doing a little reading and a lot of spanking. These kids have it good. Probably have electricity and running water where they live. I still have the empty condo and it’s a step up from the bushes or roof tops. I guess I fit in enough around this college. No one looks at me like I’m a raccoon that came in the cat door.

Almost makes me want to stay. I could call up Tokyo and I’m sure she’d know what I could do to fit in better around here. We could hit up some keggers together and she could read my term papers. Nice and simple. Safe. Getting a grade couldn’t be worse than having someone try to kill you.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

IT JUST GOT REAL

I’m fucked. The Nerd is dead.

No, I didn’t do it. You really think I did? I have no reason to off him. Sure, he tried to stick me with his dagger and screw me out of my money, but he was just scared and sloppy. It felt good punching him in the jaw, but killing him wouldn’t solve anything.

Rodeo’s a different story. The world could be a better place without him.

The world without the Nerd? We’re missing a doughy guy with a nervous face who got in over his head. If he’d made friends with me, let me be his ally, he might not be dead right now. At least he had some good screws, right? Mrs. Nerd and Jasmine. Not bad for a jellyfish. Don’t know about a heaven or hell, but wherever he is, he’s probably thinking about those two women.

Might be thinking about me. Cursing me. Blaming me that he’s dead. If I had just stayed away from that black bag, he might be alive. But that’s bullshit. I bet Rodeo would’ve stiffed him on the payment and when the Nerd would try and complain, he’d get a round to the head. End of story. Rodeo has the identities and keeps his money.

I’ll bet that’s who did it. Rodeo must have found the Nerd.

The body was found early Wednesday morning by city groundskeepers. The area was quickly cordoned off and police have been collecting evidence. “It’s clearly a homicide, but we’re still working on the circumstances,” said Santa Monica Police representative Sgt. Pamela Lopez. Michael Dunne was an Executive Vice President and programmer for the Brainiac Software Group, located here in Santa Monica.

That’s from the article I found. They didn’t mention Mrs. Nerd, but if they wrote down his name, that means she was notified.

I’d been looking at the local news websites, trying to see if my dust up with Rodeo made some noise, when the headline, Santa Monica Man Found Dead In Park, caught my eye. It happened in my park. Where I picked up the black bag.

The Nerd was finished where this all started.

And now I’m fucked.

You know who they think did it. When they talked to Mrs. Nerd, who do you think she gave them? I’m the only one she knows from the Nerd’s dead drop. She might give up Jasmine, but that girl’ll never sing about Rodeo. Don’t kick a hornet’s nest. Jasmine will point the finger at me, just like Mrs. Nerd. It’s easy to blame an out of state drifter.

Isn’t that who they’re always putting away for crimes? See it all the time in the papers. Someone’s killed, robbed, a store knocked over, the cops shake down the homeless guys and find one to pin it on. Not all drifters are villains. You know me. You think I’m a bad guy? I’m just trying to get by like everyone else. I’m not a drifter. I’m a hunter.

But the cops won’t believe that. They want a sap to string up so it looks like they’re doing their job. Maybe you’re a cop. No offense, but you can’t deny drifters are always taking the fall. Could you put a call into the Santa Monica PD and tell them Trey didn’t do it? Let them read this blog, they’ll get the details. But I’m not telling everything yet. Still looking for my payday. Just don’t want the cops to roll me in for no reason and instead of disappearing and not bothering anyone anymore, I’m looking at a cell and a bunch of ball point pen tattoos.

How great would the cops feel to get their hands on me? They’d find a way to pin the Nerd’s death on me and at the same time get me for the trouble in Ballentine. Every time I would open my mouth to explain, I’d get a gloved fist in it. And I’m sure they’d find the worst drunk, doesn’t give a shit lawyer to defend me.

I’m a serious vampire now. Moving in the night and hiding in the day. Taking a chance staying at the library to write this. Still at the university and I don’t think they’re looking for killers here.

The cops should be looking for Rodeo. He must have told the Nerd to meet where the drop was supposed to happen so they could talk about setting up a new deal. Don’t know how he found the Nerd. Jasmine maybe. She’s trouble. Might have to pay her another visit. Need more dope on Rodeo.

You see, the cops can’t have Rodeo yet. I’m not done with him. Still have to soften him up and get my money. I can use the Nerd’s death as leverage against Rodeo. This is all gonna be harder, now that Trey’s a real wanted man.

Run? You think I should run again to another state and lay low? Running makes you look guilty. I ran from Ballentine. I’m not running anymore.

Friday, July 10, 2009

BEVERLY HILLS

Can’t remember the last time I had any fun. Back in Ballentine, hanging with the boys, or spanking Rosa, who was my last good lay. No fun in Los Angeles. Only daggers and guns and a lot of motherfuckers trying to off me. Even screwing Mrs. Nerd wasn’t anything to smile about. More like going to the batting cages.

But last night. That was fun. And dangerous as hell. I swear I saw a dude with a sub-machine gun. This town is hard core.


And big. When I first got here, I hopped off a train in Downtown Los Angeles. It took me a day to walk to Santa Monica, following the sun like the Rail Riders told me to do. Wasn’t paying much attention to the city then. It was all a bunch of low and tall buildings and traffic and bright skies. I was hungry and alone and didn’t know what I would find near the ocean.


I found a little black bag and a lot of trouble.


Been here long enough to get a lay of the land. I can recognize the landmarks. Across from the Veteran’s graveyard is the big concrete Federal Building. It looks like a giant headstone, looming over all the smaller ones. Must be teeming with G-Men, salivating to get their hands on me, lock me up and throw away the key. I walk wide around that building.


The college campus makes me feel better. Big eucalyptus trees and all kinds of hot chicks. No one looks at me funny here. I’m in their library now and they probably think I’m working on a term paper. It’s an essay on how badass Trey is.


Chapter 1: Trey walks from his empty condo, across the college campus at night, hearing a couple of parties from the dorms, and keeps moving, heading east. He’s like a ghost, living in the shadows. Vampire Batman. Sexy as hell. Caught the eye of a couple of betties on the campus. They were outside some theater or something, looking alt and hot. But Trey was on a mission, gave them a smile and a wink and disappeared into the shadows.


Chapter 2: Trey finds Beverly Hills. Can’t miss it. Keep heading east on Wilshire Boulevard. You have to be careful on a long stretch with just a little sidewalk. Big trees all around and the cars are blasting past. Thought I was going to buy it a couple of times. Came out the other end of that stretch and into the golden glow of Beverly Hills. Glittering lights everywhere and department stores and hotels, all with clean glass.


Chapter 3: Trey mingles with the natives. Saw two kinds in Beverly Hills. One type was dripping with money. Sunglasses at night and the women in tight jeans and high heels. The other type was the tourist. They pointed and took pictures. Lots of Japanese. They had money too, but from out of town.


I was looking for an address, one of the restaurants that Jasmine told me Rodeo was an owner in. At first, I hit up the locals, but they didn’t know shit. Most of them looked stoned and sloppy. The tourists knew more about that berg than the people living there.


Chapter 4: This is bullshit. I never wrote good essays.


With the help of the tourists, I made it to the restaurant. Not much more than a door to the street and ivy covering the walls. The name of the place was real small, like they didn’t want anyone to know it was there. Maybe they were hoping Trey wouldn’t find them.


Trey’s on the warpath. What I want I get. Even got lucky. See what happens when you stop running and start hunting? I took a chance going to this restaurant. Jasmine told me about some places that Rodeo had his fingers in, but one was downtown and I wasn’t ready to take that walk. If the Beverly Hills valets had been looking in the shadows across the street from the restaurant, they would’ve seen my vampire smile in the shadows. Rodeo’s Mercedes was parked out front.


You think I had Mrs. Nerd buy me this Carhartt jacket in black because it goes with my eyes? No, it’s so I can hide in the dark of night and spring on my prey when they least expect it. I might be outside your place. I could be looking in your window right now. But I wouldn’t do anything to you. You’re my only friend.


I watched a couple of fancy cars and SUVs pull up to the valets. The dudes in the red vests ran around like doctors in the ER while the douchebag a-holes strutted out of their cars and handled their skinny women toward the door. Would be cool if I could waltz into that place with Tokyo on my arm. We’d shoot sneers at all the fools, drink their bar dry and eat all the good food. I’d let Tokyo order, don’t think I’d know the kind of food this place served.


Night got later and I made my slow way around to the side of the restaurant. Took a while, like a sniper stalk. My dad told me stories of some Nam snipers who took days to cover a hundred yards so no one saw them. Then they’d put a bullet in a dude’s head and disappear like they were never there. Sounds cool. But Trey doesn’t have long range capabilities. I got stealth.


Ducked into the shadows by a Dumpster when Beverly Hills Cop rolled by. These boys were no shitty comedy. Cocked buzzcuts looking for a reason to beat you down. I want no business with them.


Cops cruised past and I found a good place to wait for my shot. Couldn’t see the front door of the restaurant, but I had a view of the sidewalk and Rodeo’s car. I waited. Thought about those snipers, or my dad. What was going through their minds as they crawled through a field or down a tunnel? You plan every move, every inch forward? Or does your body go automatic and you have time to remember your 18th birthday or first girl you kissed?


My 18th birthday party was a summer barbecue around the trailer. All my friends were there. Got blasted and punched out a good buddy and made out with a couple of girls at once. Hell of a time.


First girl I kissed was Brooke. You don’t deserve to know anything about her other than she was sweet.


She was on my mind, her eyes closing and getting closer and that first thrill that scares the shit out of you, when Rodeo stepped onto the sidewalk. I got that thrill again and ran at him with everything I had. Don’t think. Take the shot.


Rodeo’s bitch was the first to see me coming. Guess women are more trained to be ready for an attack. He should’ve been paying attention to her. Her hands went up to block me and her eyes went wide. I noticed her shiny, tight pants and thin high-heels as I shoved past her. Girl couldn’t keep her balance on the stilts and went over on the sidewalk. Didn’t like hurting her.


But I loved lowering my shoulder into Rodeo. He was just turning toward his woman when I hit him. He grunted all his breath out and we went down to the sidewalk. I may have caught him by surprise, but the dude was ready after that. Punching and kicking and gouging, we worked each other on the pavement. Don’t know what he ate for dinner at his fancy restaurant, but there’s no way he was as satisfied as I was when I put my thumb in his neck under his jaw.


His face turned red and he flailed, but I kept pressing. And I punched him once in the ribs with my free hand. He kneed me in the side and reminded me of the bruises from my run in with Sig and The Eagle. Part of my body knotted up and I barely managed to slap him with the back of my hand. He felt it and I’m still feeling good now, a day later.


Footsteps started shuffling all around us and I heard Rodeo’s girl screaming. She was probably singing the whole time, but it didn’t hit me until I knew it was time to blow. I was on my feet in time to see the dude in the suit coming out of the restaurant. No kidding, he had a fucking Uzi or something like it.


If I were the American Ninja, I’d be spraying back at him with my belt-fed M-60. I’d level that whole place. By now you know I’m not the American Ninja and I ran like hell before the dude started popping caps in my ass.


Running away and laughing the whole time. I’m still smiling. I fucked with Rodeo on his turf. Knocked his girl down and he couldn’t stop me. People’ll think twice about going to that restaurant. I made that fucker hurt. If he’d dealt square with me, he would have had his girl all over his face that night, instead of an ice bag.


Rodeo’s learning. You don’t cross Trey. It’s an expensive lesson. He’ll pay later, once I’ve softened him up and he’s really ready to hand over the cash for the black bag. That’s right. Trey’s still going to get his payoff.


And it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun kicking ass until I ride off into the sunset.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

PLAYGROUND BULLIES

You try and make things better and they get worse. Ain’t that always the way things are? Maybe you have better luck. You and I should switch places. You dodge the cops and gangsters while trying to get a slice of the pie and I’ll sit at your desk and answer the phone and take long lunches and collect your paycheck. Want to trade?

Didn’t think so.

You wouldn’t last a second out here. And I’d probably hate your life. Working five days a week? That ain’t human.

Besides, I still have business to settle before I disappear. Don’t know if there’ll be any payday, but I got here with nothing, I can get somewhere else with less. Kicking ass will be my reward.

Then you can hear about it on the news and know the real story. Tell your friends that you and Trey go way back and you were along for the ride. Hell, you might give my eulogy before the 21 gun salute.

Tell them how I left the safety of an empty condo behind and walked into Santa Monica ready to fight. I used Jasmine to call out Rodeo and it’s just a matter of time until I find him. I have some spots of his to haunt and if she talks to him, he’ll be looking for me.

There was one fight I knew wouldn’t be hard to find. All I had to do was stand out in the open.

Sig.

Time to end it. One less shark swimming around me. But it never works the way you want it to.

I had walked up and down the open air mall in Santa Monica, but Sig wasn’t there. Got a fish burrito to go and headed up a big street called Wilshire until I found a park with a nice bench for lunch. Strange sitting and eating out in the open. Hadn’t done that in a while. Been hiding out like some creature of the night. I’m the sexy vampire that’ll get the teenage girls creaming.

Halfway through my lunch I hear the rumble of the Valiant. I finished the food fast, knowing I’d need the energy. Let them come. Fuckers. Don’t ever tell anyone I backed down from a fight.

I was ready for this one. Polished off the burrito and walked through the park, finding an open spot between the playground and the basketball courts. There were a few people out, but these weren’t the type to start brawling.

The fight was all for me, Sig, Big Wes and The Eagle. The public place gave me one advantage, no Glock to attract attention. Sig must have been hoping beat me close enough to death that they’d be out of town before I kicked for good. Trey doesn’t go down that easy.

They came all three shoulder to shoulder like gunfighters. If we were all heavy with six-shooters, I would’ve mowed those fuckers down before anyone blinked an eye. Instead, I waited with fists until they were close enough to throw.

They were willing, too. No trash talk or jokes or threats. It went down real quiet. The Eagle was first. I knew he would be. They rely on him for all the heavy lifting. Big ol’ overhand right and I ducked underneath it. Got the toe of my boot on the side of The Eagle’s knee and he hopped sideways into Sig.

I tackled Big Wes and that’s when the people in the park started paying attention. Didn’t see them, but I heard some moms pulling their kids from the sand and the basketball game stopped short.

Sig grabbed me from behind, but I wasn’t done with Big Wes. Even as I got yanked off him, I landed shots in his face. Saw the blood on his beard.

Felt Sig’s knee in my side, then my back and I heard some snaps in my spine. But I’m still walking, so he didn’t break my back. He’ll wish he had.

I was kicking while Sig held me and The Eagle’s big fist tried for my face, but hit me in the chest instead. Still hurt like hell and I saw stars and lost all my air. I kept kicking.

Got enough breath for the hurt to really set in. That made me mad. Sig was having a hard time holding on to me and I twisted around and put an elbow into his head. It would’ve been satisfying, hearing him gag on the pain, except that The Eagle now had me by the ankles and spun me sideways. It was like motherfucking ice dancing. I flew through the air and landed in the playground, eating sand.

Then on comes Big Wes, spitting blood and pissed off. He’s flailing, kicking and punching. I took one to the ribs and tasted copper. He backed off a bit when I punched him on the inside of his thigh. Gave me time to stand up and get a good grip on him.

The jungle gym was metal bars, painted in rubber. The whole thing rattled when I slammed Big Wes into it. I doubled him over with a knee to the gut and saw Sig and The Eagle coming. I slid under the jungle gym for safety and yanked Big Wes’ arm through a ladder. He was groaning and gasping for breath. Big Wes found enough breath to scream when I broke his arm against a rung of the ladder. I heard the bone snap, just above the elbow.

I pushed him forward into Sig and The Eagle, just to slow them down. Big Wes turned into an animal. He screamed and shook and got his good hand into Sig and would not let go. Sig tried to pull away to come after me, but Big Wes put all the strength of his broken body into that one hand and couldn’t be moved.

But The Eagle was free to come after me. I ran. But it was to buy time, make a plan. I even thought about running into this big gray church across the street. That would just corner me and I don’t think The Eagle gives a shit about Christ or Buddha or whoever else. He cares about money and weed and pussy and lifting weights.

“Fuck Sig.” I threw it out and he kept coming. We were in the parking area of an apartment building, dodging around the cars. “You gonna take the big fall for him? Crossing state lines to mess me up is Federal, man.” Now I was getting to him, I could tell because he glanced back to the park where Sig was balled up with Big Wes. “Would Sig do that for you? Fuck no. You saw what he did that night. You were there, Eagle. Sig got out of the car and shot my dad without a fair fight. Sig ain’t right in the head. And he shouldn’t be running the North River.” This was all I had. I knew I’d lose a stand up fight with The Eagle. You should be. Sig’ll run the gang into the ground. You take over. Leave him here. Take Big Wes with you and leave Sig here. It’s my score to settle with him. Just the two of us.”

The Eagle thought, made conversations in his head. He spoke slow, so we both understood. “You can’t come back to Ballentine.”

“No,” I told him. “I’ll never go back.”

Somehow I’d always thought I might go home. Now I can’t.

The Eagle and I heard Sig running in our direction and we took off in different directions. I ran a big loop around the park and Sig chased. Out of the corner of my eye I saw The Eagle collecting Big Wes and helping him into the Valiant. Both Sig and I stopped running when the Plymouth growled to life and peeled away.

Sig is now alone. With me.

Come and get it, Fucker.

We didn’t have time to finish it that day. Couple of cop cars showed up with lights spinning and sirens chirping. Some of the people at the park started pointing and me and Sig disappeared in different directions.

When you see it on the news tonight, you’ll know why those homeless guys were fighting at the park. Tell your friends that I didn’t back down. And I’m still here, ready for more.

I’m back in the university library. Didn’t see any empty spaces for my dad in the Veteran’s graveyard. He’d be happier on this campus, scoping the hot ass all around. Even in summer, there are smart bitches with books and computers. I’d try to get in on one of their parties tonight, but I have other dinner plans.

With Rodeo.

Friday, July 3, 2009

HOME INVASION

I had to go back to Santa Monica. That’s where all the action is. It started with Jasmine. Like diving back to hell after you’ve climbed out. But I hadn’t made my way to heaven.

You want me to just leave it all behind.
Keep running away and find another life wherever I land. Is that what you’d do? Run? With less than a hundred dollars on you, two changes of clothes and nothing else? Won’t get far. What do you do when you run out of money? What do you eat? You’re hungry for too long, you get tired and sloppy. So what if I’m in Colorado and away from this hell? I’ll make a mistake up there and get rolled by the cops and they’ll see that I’m wanted for questioning in Ballentine. Then goodbye Trey.

There’s no more running. I have to make this work here and now. This is my shot at living. You’ve probably got a plan. Sitting at your desk, reading this and knowing that you get a raise after three months of more ass-kissing. After the raise, a new car, maybe make some babies. You got a house or a condo or an apartment and food in the fridge. And if there’s nothing worth eating, you have a phone and you can get delivery. You could be reading this while eating a slice of hot pizza.

I’m sitting in a library with a belly that, four hours ago, was full of two tacos for 99 cents. It’s live or die, every tick of the clock out here. Trey isn’t running anymore.

Jasmine wishes I blew out of town. She would’ve been happier if Rodeo used his .45 to perforate me. Except for Tokyo, I think the whole population of this town believes the only good Trey is a dead Trey. They can wish all they want. Until someone does it, I’m going to fuck some things up.

And it started with Jasmine. She’s my closest link to Rodeo. I waited in the bushes by her front door until 1am. Same routine, she came up the street alone, returning from girls’ night. She wouldn’t have a guy with her. Girl like that doesn’t bring a guy to her place. If she fucks someone, she does it where she can make a clean getaway.

Ladies, a word of advice, check over your shoulder before you unlock your door. Especially if you’re alone.

As soon as her door opened, I was behind her and pushing her into her apartment. She gasped for air like she was drowning. I shoved her too hard and she stumbled to the floor. I closed the door and locked it and turned on a light. Never saw someone look so scared. Good. That’s how I wanted her.

“I’ll scream.” She slid backwards on the floor.

“Do it.” I moved toward her, didn’t give her space. “Call the cops and I’ll tell them all about the Nerd and Rodeo and the drop and how you started it all.”

Her mind spun through other options. “I’ll call Rodeo.”

“Yes,” I smiled. “That’s what I want. You call him. Tell him that Trey is looking to tangle with him.”

This gave her some leverage and she stood up, tilting her chin up at me. “You don’t want to find him. He’ll kill you if you try and double-cross him.”

“The fucker double-crossed me.” She didn’t expect this. “We set up the meet and I was ready to hand off the goods. Instead of the money, he tried to give me a bullet to the brain.”

She blinked a couple of times.

The girl was off balance and I kept pushing. “I’m sure that’s what he had planned for the Nerd after the deal went down.” She walked backwards until she hit a tall chair and leaned against it like she was dizzy. “You think he’d let you keep walking and talking after all this?”

“Me?”

“Like you’re not part of it? Like being a hot Arab with tits makes you immune?”

“I’m Persian, you fucking redneck asshole.” Girl has sparks.

“You think Rodeo gives a shit about your sweet Persian pussy? He’ll cut your throat and fry your body with acid in the bathtub until you’re nothing more than a stain.”

She was picturing what I said and glanced to the bathroom. “I’m not involved. I hardly know him.”

“You know him enough to hook him up with the Nerd.”

“We needed the money.”


We, I thought. Mrs. Nerd needed the money. Jasmine has a job and a place of her own.


She still leaned on the chair. Don’t like hurting girls, but it was nice to see someone else shaking for a change. I didn’t let her get any balance. “It only took one phone call. Now you’re involved. You’re as dead as I am.”


“No. No. This was supposed to be simple.” Her eyes welled with tears. It almost felt like a privilege, watching her cry. Don’t think a lot of guys get to see her this way. Then she looked at me and I saw it wasn’t sadness, it was anger. “You fucked it up.”


“Even if I hadn’t picked up that bag, there was no good way out of this. If the deal had gone down the way it was planned, you and the Nerd would both be dead by now.” I laughed because the idea struck me funny. “I saved your life.”


She laughed too, but it was more like she was spitting poison out of a wound. “I’m not going to thank you.”


“No one ever does.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. “Don’t want it. I want payback. I want Rodeo and you’re going to tell me everything you know about him.”


She did. Wasn’t much. She knows him from clubs and bars. Dude is big business, over and under the table. Rumors of a friend of a friend that dealt with Rodeo, gave him some inside tips on construction contracts and walked away with a million bucks. Rodeo’s part owner of a couple of restaurants around town. I got the names, the addresses. I left her place from the back door Rodeo had used before and I heard the locks quick behind me. She probably didn’t get much sleep that night.


I didn’t either. Back to the rooftops. I had found an empty condo building in a decent neighborhood after leaving the college library, but couldn’t make it that far that night. Place looked brand new, but there was no one living there. Climbed to a second floor balcony around back and the glass door was open. Slept alright there on the new carpet. But I couldn’t stay comfortable. I woke up remembering Rodeo pointing that gun at me. And Jasmine was my only way of getting to him.


Making tracks back to Santa Monica and Jasmine, I had passed a big graveyard. Looked like miles of clean white stones. All the same size and in perfect order. Veteran’s graveyard. Like all the headstones were standing at attention in their parade uniforms. I saw my dad dressed with his medals and polished buttons. He was saluting someone. It was a picture from a newspaper or magazine. He kept it flat in a book and I’d find it every once in a while.


After shaking Jasmine down, lying on a Santa Monica rooftop, staring at the blank pink sky, I thought about that graveyard and wondered if there was any room left for my dad.