tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2861932553495073662024-03-04T21:20:10.044-08:00Dead DropDead Drop is a fiction blog in the form of a modern Noir, set in Santa Monica and Los Angeles, CA. Homeless and on the run, Trey finds a dead drop and takes it, hoping to sell it to the highest bidder and buy his way out of the trouble that pursues him. But the trouble only gets worse and Trey finds himself in the fight of his life.Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-20118270312407454832009-08-12T09:48:00.000-07:002009-08-12T10:01:05.948-07:00NOT DEAD YET<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Blood and steel and gunpowder. Don’t think I’ll ever get the smell off my body. Won’t ever forget what I saw. What I did. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">When I shot Rass, Sig’s brother, in the chest, I hardly had time to see his body stop moving before I was running. He spun backwards and twisted face down in the mud. And then I was gone, no time to stand back and soak up what happened. It’s still there, in my head, but it happened so fast and I wasn’t thinking, makes it seem less real. Almost like someone else did it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It was someone else. I’m not the same guy I was when I pulled that trigger. Firing that bullet in Ballentine changed me. Everything that’s happened in Los Angeles has changed me. Things aren’t happening as fast. I see them coming, I shape them if I can. Not reacting anymore. Carving this world into what I want. But you never get what you want. I’m still trying. That means getting your hands dirty.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I got my hands dirty tonight. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">There’s still blood under my fingernails. Leaving flakes of it all over this keyboard. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It was the meeting with Rodeo. The final payoff. I had the black bag and he was supposed to bring the money. I set it up so we would meet after midnight in the park over the bluffs. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It’s a long stretch of grass and trees. I stayed to one end so I could see people coming and going. I was hidden and spotted Rodeo’s Mercedes crawling up the street. He double parked up the block from where we were supposed to meet and a big dude got out of the passenger side. Looked like the bone breaker bartender I had seen before. Rodeo wasn’t taking any chances tonight. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I had my backup, too. Only he didn’t know it yet.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Rodeo parked his car and got out, strolled through the park in the area we had arranged. But I wasn’t coming yet. I paced in and out of a dim streetlight until I heard footsteps behind me. Then the slide of plastic coming out of a pocket. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">When I turned, there was Sig, smiling and pointing the Glock at my chest. Just like he had aimed it at my dad. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Don’t do it, Sig.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I’m going to do you, then I’ll take care of The Eagle and Big Wes and anyone else that wants some. I’m taking it all back.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Wait, Sig. I need your help and there’s enough money in it for both of us.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">He stopped smiling and the gun looked like it got heavier in his hand. “Ain’t going to help you.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I got a deal going. What you think I’ve been doing in this town, when I could’ve kept running? I got a deal. It goes down tonight. Here.” His tiny brain was shaking like Jell-O. “But I need help. A backup.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“What’s the deal?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Selling something for two hundred fifty large.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That got him. The smile came back then flickered. “What the fuck do you have that’s worth that much?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Something I stole.” I glanced around, feeling the clock ticking. “The dude’s here right now to make the trade. But he’s got another guy and I need you to handle him until the deal’s done.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Should just drop you right here and take the guy’s money.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“He hears the shot and he’s gone. Let me make the deal. You cover the other guy. We’ll split the money. Fifty-fifty. I just want enough to get the fuck out of town.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig showed me his teeth again and he nodded. “Where’s the other guy?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Up the block. Big dude in track pants. Probably packing. Scare him away or pin him down.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fifty-fifty?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Hell, yeah.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">He waved the Glock before lowering it. “I’m the one with the gun.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ll never fucking forget that, Sig. “This’ll be smooth. Quick payoff and then we split.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fifty-fifty.” Then he ran off into the park to find the big dude. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I gave Sig a couple of minutes, then started walking toward where Rodeo still paced. When Rodeo saw me he stopped and put a heavy duffle down next to his foot. He was slick, didn’t check over his shoulder to where he had dropped off his man. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">If he had looked, he would’ve seen his man stepping out of the shadows with his hands in the air. Sig kept a safe distance behind him, aiming the Glock at his back. The big dude pulled out his own piece slowly and set it on the ground. Once Sig got that gun, he aimed, two-fisted, at the dude. Couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I’m sure Sig’s breath was enough to make the guy run. And the guy did run. Before Sig could pull the trigger, the dude ducked around a tree and into the shadows and up the street. Rodeo probably sold the bartender with the idea of a quick few bucks as backup, no trouble. Even money isn’t so tasty when you’re on the wrong end of a gun. Don’t blame the guy for running. But I knew there wasn’t much time. The dude might not be willing to take a bullet for Rodeo, but he would make some calls and the shit would really come down. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Let’s make it real this time,” I told Rodeo. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“It is real.” He stepped away from the duffle and let me come close to it. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Keeping my eyes on him, I squatted down to open the bag. The leather sheath of the dagger was thick inside my pant leg. Genuine money in the bag. I could feel it, stacks of bills.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Give me the drive.” He put his hand out.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I stood and pulled the black bag from my jacket pocket. He licked his lips. I tossed it and he caught it, then made a wave to bring his guy forward. I waved, too and he frowned like he bit into a hand grenade instead of an apple. Quick glance over his shoulder confirmed the bad news for Rodeo.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig, grinning like a maniac, a gun in each hand. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Rodeo whipped out his .45 and I was wondering why I was the only asshole without a piece. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Give me a gun.” I held a hand out to Sig. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">He pointed one of his pistols at me. “Fuck you.” He glanced into the open bag of money and drooled. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Then kill this guy,” I told Sig, “And you and I can finish it.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Rodeo pointed the .45 at me and I heard the big bang. You don’t hear the one that gets you, so I must still be alive.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I did feel a blast of air move past me. Rodeo lay on the ground, writhing and trying to stop the bleeding in his side. He gasped for air and gurgled. When Sig shot him, Rodeo’s .45 went off. Could’ve been goodbye for Trey. Then you wouldn’t get to hear the end of the story. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig stepped over to Rodeo and taunted him, “I get to kill Trey.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Stupid fucker Sig. He wasn’t watching me. The silver dagger came out of the sheath. <br /><br />Sometimes it feels like my skin is thin, fragile. Like everything out there is sharp and can get through to my blood and guts. Skin is harder than that. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I pushed the tip of the dagger through Sig’s shirt and pressed into his skin until it popped open and the blade sunk into his body. The knife was real steel, not just for dragons and elves. Sig screamed in my ear and turned to point the guns at me. The blade slipped out of his body and I pushed it back in him again. And again. And again. Don’t know how many times. Sig dropped his guns and grabbed my body to stay standing. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I let him fall. The pain kept his body stiff. He shuddered and shook and breathed out of the holes in his chest. The dagger stuck out from between two of his ribs. I slowly slid it out and whispered to him, “My dad’s waiting for you.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig couldn’t say anything. He looked at me with scared eyes as he drowned in his own blood. Whatever pain he felt, and whatever fires he’s burning in now, it’s not enough. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I slapped Rodeo’s face until he came to. “The money’s bad, isn’t it?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Of course.” He probably thought I was the angel of death and he was confessing. “For laundry.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I wiped my prints off the dagger and it fit perfectly in Rodeo’s hand and he clutched it to his chest like it was a crucifix. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">This was Santa Monica, not Ballentine. Gunshots bring people out here, and cops. You might’ve heard the shots, Tokyo. Don’t worry. I’m safe and still have your note. Can’t tell you what you did for me. Thanks for being the only human in this town. Don’t know when I’ll see you. Hope it’s not never.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I ran. Again. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">But this time, I’m not leaving anything behind. Somewhere, my dad’s finally resting. Maybe he’s looking down on me, clear view from the stars up there to my rooftop. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Who’s reading this? Tokyo? Who else? If anyone can do something about it, I don’t think my dad should be buried. Don’t put him in the dirt, like he was back in the Nam tunnels. Cremate him. Let him go in the flames. Then he can go free.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">If any cops are reading this, it’s all lies. Rodeo killed Sig, who shot Rodeo over a bad deal. The thumb drive that Rodeo has is empty, erased. The list of identities is on Gabriel Chacon’s laptop. It’s on this laptop, too. Cops’ll have this one by tomorrow. And I’ll be gone. </span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Can’t go home to Ballentine. Can’t imagine I’ll ever stop running. But there’s business on the road. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I have a score to settle with some Rail Riders. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-50228411222808423702009-08-07T07:32:00.000-07:002009-08-07T07:43:02.146-07:00MY SECRET<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I couldn’t tell you. Anyone who’s reading this. Tokyo, or someone else. It was too important, too fragile a secret and I felt if I told anyone it would break in my hands. And then I’d be fucked. Don’t like keeping secrets from you, Tokyo.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It went down the day after you brought me the burgers. I still have the note you wrote. It’s in the pocket of my jacket. Weather’s hot, but there’s no way I’m taking off this jacket. Tough like a second skin. And it keeps the note close. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I climbed down from the rooftop just before sunrise and no one saw me. Back to Santa Monica. Most everyone’s driving in this town, but you can cover some distance on foot if you have the time. And summer has long days for walking. Bright sun makes it dangerous, though, when you’re tempting the wolves. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Early morning recon. Town was waking up and I was on the street, watching the delivery trucks and the lines at the coffee shops. I was hunting again and it felt good. There’s a real satisfaction in watching someone who doesn’t know you’re there. Kind of gives you a hard on. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Which I know is a little sick, considering I was watching Sig, but you gotta take your thrills where you can. He was in a park where other homeless dudes were waking up. He looked like hell, but he didn’t look bad enough for my liking. I figure he doubled back after our fight on the beach. He had all night to find his Glock in the bushes. So I kept a good distance. Which was all part of the plan. Recon. Hunting.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig left that park and I followed from a distance. He made the rounds, checking for me at other parks, the open air mall and out in front of Jasmine’s condo building. He ate food out of garbage cans. I haven’t had to do that. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Part of hunting is baiting. At the next park, I let Sig see me. Two, three hundred yards away. I pretended I didn’t know he was there and kicked around in some plants like I was looking for something. Kept him in the corner of my eye, so when he started to come toward me, I bailed and got lost quick in the city streets. He couldn’t follow me after that. But I did what I needed to. Sig smelled fresh blood and would be ready when I wanted him.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Didn’t see you jogging today, Tokyo. Maybe it’s best you lay low until I finish this. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">After I lost Sig’s bloodshot eyes, I dropped some coins into a payphone. Mrs. Nerd was awake. Golf day with the ladies. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“You get a new seven iron?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I’ll play without it.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I have the money. Tonight, at the park where it all started and the Nerd ended.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“What time?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Just after dark.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“One point six million. He came up with it that fast?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I think it’s just a drop in the bucket with this guy.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“You couldn’t squeeze him for more?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“We were lucky to get the money and not a bullet.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">She wanted to get this over with. “Tonight.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I need something else from you, to frame up the guy I want.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“What?”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Get on your hands and knees. Clean the ashes out of your fireplace, where you burned your clothes. Give them to me in a plastic bag. They’ll be perfect.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fine.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“See you after dark.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I had the rest of the day to kill. But that didn’t mean I could go to Disneyland and Hollywood Boulevard. The cops still wanted me for the Nerd’s death. Mrs. Nerd wouldn’t help me on that until she had her money. So I had to stay out of sight from the SMPD, Sig and anyone else who wanted a slice of Trey. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I kept walking. Headed out of Santa Monica and found parts of this town I’d never seen. This place goes on forever. You can walk from one side of Ballentine to the other before lunch, even if you slept in. Two bridges over the river, and if you can’t find either one of those, it’s a short swim. Los Angeles is like a whole other planet. No, like a solar system, and each part of this town is a planet with different life forms and buildings. And I don’t belong on any of these planets. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Don’t know where I belong anymore. Don’t know where I’ll go when I get my payoff. Just want to rest and eat and not worry about who wants to kill me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sun started setting and I walked back into Santa Monica. Ate a good burrito during the day, drank an orange soda and stayed out of the sun in the bushes by a freeway overpass. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Dark came and I was a couple of blocks from the park where it all started. Could see some people there, silhouettes in the streetlights. An SUV circled the park a couple of times. I figured that was Mrs. Nerd. And I was right. She took her car to the curb and stalked cautiously into the park. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">But not cautious enough. If you kill someone, throw the knife where no one will find it. Ever. There’s a whole ocean out there and Mrs. Nerd ditched the knife in the dirt. And if you get blood on your clothes, burn them, but then take the ashes and throw those in the ocean, too. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Because if you’re not careful, then the guy that you’re trying to pin the murder on might turn on you. It wasn’t hard, especially after she tried to smash my head in with the golf club. Hell, even the phone number was toll free. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That’s my secret. I called the cops. It was the only way I could see getting out from under the Nerd’s murder. I wasn’t going to take the fall. Who better to hang for it than the person who really did it. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Called the cops twice. The first time was to tell them about the knife somewhere in the bluffs and that they should take a hard look at the wife and her fireplace and to see if any knives are missing in the kitchen. Someone must want a promotion, because when I called the second time and talked to the same detective, he said that they had looked at Mrs. Nerd before and after I called and wanted more details to build a case. I gave him Mrs. Nerd, at the scene of the crime with a bag full of ashes that had been her bloody clothes. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I watched her silhouette standing there, then lights blazed all around. She stood frozen as a bunch of people in police jackets circled her. They got closer and closer until all their shadows swallowed Mrs. Nerd. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That’s what you get for fucking with Trey.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Maybe the Nerd is resting in peace now. Those are the only people who can rest. The dead ones. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-86018845211040874032009-08-04T08:08:00.000-07:002009-08-04T08:19:04.205-07:00AVOCADOS<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“You know, I liked you, you foreign fuck, until you tried to kill me.” I came on strong with Rodeo at the farmers’ market.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“You are a child. This is man’s business.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We stood at a stall filled with avocados. Good looking crop. There were a few people shopping, but no one gave a shit about us.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“I’m man enough to deal straight. Not like you, asshole. This all started because you had to be a dick and fuck the whole thing up.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Vein popped out on his forehead and he got so close I could smell his garlicky lunch. “You started it when you picked up the bag. Blame yourself.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“When you look at it, this started in Ballentine.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rodeo looked at me like I was crazy. He hitched up his jeans and I saw the flash of his belt buckle. Felt a lot of satisfaction because he stood tenderly on the foot I smashed. “Once you have your money, you go back to Butterfly and I never want to see your fucking face again.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Can’t go back home. But you’ll never see me again.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“And forget about any new identity. You get cash and nothing else.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Fine. I’m not greedy. Three hundred thousand dollars.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">He squeezed back. “Two hundred thousand.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Two fifty.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Done.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We set up the time and place. Night after tomorrow.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Then it came time for him to limp out and me walk out, eyeing each other and neither wanting to turn our backs. I’m sure he packed the .45 and itched<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">What the fuck? Someone’s out by my roof, saying my name.<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">You’ll never believe what just happened. Guess who was down in the alley behind the coffee shop with a bag full of food?<br /><br />Tokyo.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">She read my blog and figured out where I was. What kind of woman does something like that? Only the best. It’s late, after eleven and no place for someone like her to wandering around alone. I hope she’s home and safe by now.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Are you home? Sitting at your computer, waiting for me to post this? If it wasn’t for you, I’d think this whole world was fucked. Everyone else out here tried to kill me. Hadn’t thought about it before, but everyone I’ve met in this town except for you has tried to end me with a dagger, a bullet or a golf club.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">So first off, I have to thank you for not trying to back over me with a steamroller or crash a helicopter into me or hit me with a flamethrower. Scared me when I heard my name coming from the alley. Thought you were someone else who wanted to kill me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But when I saw you down there, looking hot like a fucking ninja all in black, I couldn’t believe my eyes. You found me. You listened to what I was saying and found me. No one’s ever done something like that for me before. In Los Angeles or Ballentine.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Hands were shaking. That’s why I almost broke my ass climbing down to you. And thanks for laughing at me. That was nice.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Actually, it was. You got a great laugh, girl. Like you’ve seen it all. You must have seen and done a lot. Took some kind of balls to find me, call my name. Or whatever girls have when they have huge cast-iron balls. Some day, I want to sit down with you and a bottle of bourbon or rum or your drink of choice and hear all your stories. You been reading my story, I want to know what you know. Some day.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Until we crack open that bottle, I’m holding on to what you did tonight.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">We didn’t need to talk. Glad you ate one of the burgers with me. Like a date. Next time, I’ll shower and I might shave. Didn’t know what to say to you. Maybe I’ve been using all my words to talk trash and stay alive these days. Sorry if I was a mute. Usually can’t shut me up. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Now I’m blabbing. Now that you’re home and behind a locked door. Keep your eyes open. I don’t know who else is reading this. If you found me, they might be able to find you. Sorry if I brought any danger to you. Not what I wanted. Ever. You got to know that.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But you didn’t back down. Even if it was dangerous. Look at you coming down to the alley. Hardcore, Tokyo. You one hot ninja.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Didn’t want to climb back to my roof. Felt like that vampire again, like I can never be with normal humans. Did you see me up there? I watched you walk to your car and drive away. If anyone had tried something, I’d have been on them in a second. But no one tried anything because they know you’re too much of a badass.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Thanks for the food. Thanks for coming to see me and treating me like a human. I have your card right here, cool little envelope. Wiped my hands clean on my jeans so I can open it. Reading it by the light of the laptop.<br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I will, Tokyo. I’ll stay safe. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-27820084708742629652009-07-31T07:24:00.000-07:002009-07-31T07:36:02.698-07:00THIS GUY SITTING NEXT TO ME HAS NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.” <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“What, what, what? Why did you call?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Don’t call me stupid, you piece of shit. This is all your fault. You were too stupid to handle it.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Because I’m not stupid. Because I got to who the Nerd was dealing with, broke him down. He’s going to pay now.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Good for you.” Said through gritted teeth.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Doesn’t do me much good when the cops want me for murder. We need to deal.” <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I want ninety percent.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I’m going to give you fifty percent.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Not enough.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“You don’t even know what the payoff is.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Doesn’t matter. Ninety percent.” <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fifty. And I’ll tell you—”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Bitch cut me off. “You’re wanted for murder, Trey. You have no leverage.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Eighty percent. And this negotiation is over.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fine. When do you get the money?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Soon.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“And how much is it?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Two million.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“That’s all you could get?” Glad she isn’t my mother.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“One point six for you. You can’t live on that, you ain’t living right.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Let me know as soon as you have it.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Where’s the knife?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">She knew which knife I was talking about. “They’ll never find it.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“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?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Let me worry about that. Kitchen knife?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">She must have been remembering how it felt in her hand when she killed her husband. <br />“Yeah.” Her voice shook like all the bricks of her body were about to rattle loose. <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“What about your clothes? You get rid of them?”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Fireplace.” <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“This is all too bad,” I told her, slow and serious. “We could’ve made some noise you and me.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“We did.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Maybe on the other side of all this, when you land and I land. Might be in the same spot.” <br />Don’t get the wrong idea, Tokyo. If you’re reading this. It was business. It’s always better to keep your business buttered. <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“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.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Good.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Then this’ll all be over. We can start over.” I sounded like a fucking girl.<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">She was stone cold. “Call me when it’s ready. I have to go.”<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-14501909294916551382009-07-28T07:38:00.000-07:002009-07-28T07:58:27.826-07:00GUILT<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >One block where she was vulnerable.<span style=""> </span>That’s all it takes.<span style=""> </span>I’ve said it before, girls got to be careful out there.<span style=""> </span>Walking back from lunch, Jasmine was on her cell phone and wasn’t looking over her shoulder.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >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.<span style=""> </span>On her way back, I stepped up to her side and kept pace with her, talking low.<span style=""> </span>“Keep walking.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >She jumped out of her skin and dropped her big cup of diet soda.<span style=""> </span>The ice went everywhere and she didn’t even wipe the liquid off her hand.<span style=""> </span>“The cops are looking for you,” she said.<span style=""> </span>“They talked to me about you.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“Everyone’s got the wrong idea.<span style=""> </span>Helen Dunne told the cops I killed her husband.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“You didn’t?”<span style=""> </span>She wouldn’t look at me, kept her eyes straight ahead and I could feel how she wanted to start running.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“Why the fuck would I do that?<span style=""> </span>You know who killed him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“No, I don’t.”<span style=""> </span>But she was just telling herself that so she wouldn’t feel guilty.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >I fed her the line, kept her on the hook.<span style=""> </span>“Rodeo killed him.<span style=""> </span>He stuck him with a knife until he died.<span style=""> </span>They found his body in the same park where the drop went down.<span style=""> </span>Did you set up the Nerd?<span style=""> </span>You tell him to meet Rodeo there that night?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“No.”<span style=""> </span>She stopped walking and looked me in the face.<span style=""> </span>“I got them in touch one time.<span style=""> </span>The first time when I thought it would be a simple deal.<span style=""> </span>After that, they talked directly to each other.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“It’s never a simple deal, is it?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“The cops want you.<span style=""> </span>Rodeo wants you.”<span style=""> </span>Sig, too, I added in my head.<span style=""> </span>She asked like I was crazy, “What are you still doing here?”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“I have this.”<span style=""> </span>I held up the thumb drive.<span style=""> </span>She pulled back from like it had the curse of the mummy.<span style=""> </span>“I want to get rid of it.<span style=""> </span>I want a little money from Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>Less than I wanted before, but a real deal this time.<span style=""> </span>No tricks.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“You’ve been fucking with him too much.<span style=""> </span>He won’t go for it.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“Then you take it.”<span style=""> </span>I pushed the drive toward her and she backed up.<span style=""> </span>“Take it and sell it to him for me.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“I don’t want it.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“The only person who <i style="">does</i> want it wasn’t willing to pay straight.<span style=""> </span>He tried to fucking kill me.<span style=""> </span>Call him.<span style=""> </span>Get him on the phone right now.<span style=""> </span>Let me talk to him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“I have to get to work.”<span style=""> </span>She checked her watch and glanced around for a way out.<span style=""> </span>“I have a meeting.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“A meeting?<span style=""> </span>A fucking meeting?”<span style=""> </span>I showed her the thumb drive again.<span style=""> </span>“One person’s already dead because of this.<span style=""> </span>Call Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>Let’s get this done and maybe we’ll live to spend the money.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >You notice I never said I’d split the money with her.<span style=""> </span>Made it seem that way and she was motivated.<span style=""> </span>Mostly, though, I think she was doing it out of guilt.<span style=""> </span>With one small contact, she managed to get the Nerd killed.<span style=""> </span>Let her think Rodeo did it, instead of Mrs. Nerd.<span style=""> </span>For Jasmine, it doesn’t really matter who killed him.<span style=""> </span>It all comes back to her.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >She took her phone out of her purse and looked at it, at me.<span style=""> </span>Deep breath and she dialed.<span style=""> </span>“Hey.<span style=""> </span>You’ll never guess who I have with me.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Jasmine handed the phone to me and whispered, “Finish it.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >He was beyond pissed.<span style=""> </span>“You fucking motherfucker cocksucker….”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >I cut him off.<span style=""> </span>“That’s what you get, asshole.<span style=""> </span>Wouldn’t it have been cheaper to pay me in the first place?<span style=""> </span>This is what you get for double-crossing me.”<span style=""> </span>Must have been yelling because a couple of people on the street looked at me funny.<span style=""> </span>I started walking and found a quiet doorway in front of a building for lease.<span style=""> </span>Jasmine followed, arms folded across her chest, chewing on her lower lip.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Rodeo still steamed.<span style=""> </span>“You never should’ve picked up that bag.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“And I know why.<span style=""> </span>Because you don’t want to deal with a real player like me.<span style=""> </span>It was easier when you could manipulate the Nerd.<span style=""> </span>Well, now you killed him, so you have to do business with me.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“I didn’t kill that worm.”<span style=""> </span>Rodeo’s the kind of guy that only lies to his mother and the cops.<span style=""> </span>Give her a kiss on the head and tell her that he owns restaurants and she believes it.<span style=""> </span>And with the cops, he’s a business man with lowlife friends but no trouble of his own.<span style=""> </span>He didn’t need to lie to me.<span style=""> </span>But it sounded like he was disappointed he didn’t get to put the Nerd in the ground.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >I wasn’t going to tell Jasmine that, though.<span style=""> </span>Gotta keep the girl motivated.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >I had to keep things on track.<span style=""> </span>Might be a light at the end of the tunnel.<span style=""> </span>“You ready to do business?<span style=""> </span>Or should I keep fucking you all over town?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“You keep doing it, I catch you eventually.<span style=""> </span>Then you die.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“I’ll be dead and your legit business will be screwed and good luck finding crooks for your side projects like the black bag.<span style=""> </span>You think anyone’ll deal with a guy dancing on the stove like you?<span style=""> </span>Cheaper if you deal now.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >Silence.<span style=""> </span>Jasmine stared at me, waiting for the answer.<span style=""> </span>I waited, too.<span style=""> </span>Finally he said, “I don’t discuss prices over the phone.<span style=""> </span>We meet.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >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.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:";font-size:130%;" >“See you then.” If the tone of his voice was a knife, I’d be bleeding to death.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Jasmine didn’t know what to say, but looked tired and worried.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I can’t afford to be tired.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >The clock is always ticking.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I gathered my swagger.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“Told you it would make a great movie.”</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I gave Jasmine her phone back.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Might be giving Jasmine her life back.</span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: courier new;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >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.</span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-79184348396124452872009-07-24T08:23:00.000-07:002009-07-24T08:48:32.505-07:00SEVEN IRON<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">No one’s going to believe me now.<span style=""> </span>Cops’ll shoot first and save the questions for my corpse.<span style=""> </span>Tokyo, if you’re reading this, you got to know that everything I say is true.<span style=""> </span>No reason to lie.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>I’m writing this from the roof of the coffee shop, poaching their wifi.<span style=""> </span>Stole another laptop.<span style=""> </span>You’ll never believe whose this is.<span style=""> </span>Mrs. Nerd.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Every fucking time I try to make things better, they get worse.<span style=""> </span>How the fuck am I going to get my payoff and disappear with all this shit coming down?<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I went to Mrs. Nerd, her name is Helen, to tell her I didn’t off her husband.<span style=""> </span>A quick visit.<span style=""> </span>I hopped the back fence, in case the cops were watching the front.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>“I know you didn’t.”<span style=""> </span>Her face was calm.<span style=""> </span>There was no sugar coating on the woman anymore, but she wasn’t worn down.<span style=""> </span>She seemed more real than ever.<span style=""> </span>Watched as I finally washed all the sand and blood off my face.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>“So you didn’t tell the cops about me?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>“No.”<span style=""> </span>She was making me a sandwich.<span style=""> </span>I ate an apple, handfuls of chips, couple of cookies.<span style=""> </span>Still have an another apple in my backpack, some energy bars.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>“They have any idea who did it?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>“No.”<span style=""> </span><br /><br />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.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>She smiled at this, said that at least someone would get a payoff.<span style=""> </span>Talked about selling the house, maybe going back to Florida.<span style=""> </span>Something about bankruptcy and life insurance not covering the debts.<span style=""> </span>Tried listening, but she was talking mostly for herself.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I ate the sandwich and she sat and watched me, then asked when I was getting the payoff from Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t know.<span style=""> </span>Still don’t.<span style=""> </span>Especially now.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Mrs. Nerd told me to wait in the living room and she’d bring some clothes down that might fit me.<span style=""> </span>She drifted upstairs, silent as a ghost.<span style=""> </span>Food wasn’t sitting well in my stomach.<span style=""> </span>Felt sick.<span style=""> </span>Something was wrong.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Like being in the Nam tunnels with my dad, using every sense I had.<span style=""> </span>Just the smallest sound upstairs.<span style=""> </span>The clean crack of glass.<span style=""> </span>No footsteps though.<span style=""> </span>She was that quiet.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>I was reaching for my backpack when I saw the display on the downstairs phone.<span style=""> </span>LINE IN USE.<span style=""> </span>Another fucking doublecross.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I got my backpack on, ready to bail, when Mrs. Nerd comes down the stairs.<span style=""> </span>She’s got a cordless phone in one hand, screaming, “He’s here!<span style=""> </span>The man who killed my husband!”<span style=""> </span>In her other hand was a seven iron.<span style=""> </span>She was swinging the club like a fucking Viking.<span style=""> </span>Vases exploded.<span style=""> </span>Glass shelves disappeared into galaxies.<span style=""> </span>I’m ducking and running like a crab to stay under the iron.<span style=""> </span>She’s still screaming into the phone, “He broke in the upstairs window.<span style=""> </span>I think he’s going to kill me.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Bullshit, that bitch was trying to kill <i style="">me</i>.<span style=""> </span>I saw the hole in the wall that was meant for my head.<span style=""> </span>She dropped the phone and put both hands on the club so she could really swing it.<span style=""> </span>No way I could get close enough to take it from her.<span style=""> </span>And if I fought her straight up, gave her a right hook with a closed hand, it would just make me look more guilty.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>All I wanted was an exit.<span style=""> </span>She knew that and broke that house down all around me, blocking any clear run out of the place.<span style=""> </span>I felt the clock ticking.<span style=""> </span>Like a quarterback, don’t they say that?<span style=""> </span>He knows when he’ll get sacked even if he doesn’t see the rush.<span style=""> </span>Except when he gets sacked, they lose yards, maybe the game.<span style=""> </span>I get sacked by the cops, I lose my life.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I picked up a chair and blocked some of the club, angled myself toward the front door.<span style=""> </span>She came on strong then, even kicked at me under the chair.<span style=""> </span>I wasn’t going to let her kill me.<span style=""> </span>I wasn’t going to let her stall me until the cops showed up.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Before you judge me, understand that she wanted me dead.<span style=""> </span>For no good reason.<span style=""> </span>She knew I didn’t kill her husband.<span style=""> </span>Should I just have laid down and let her put the iron in my skull?<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>No.<span style=""> </span>Caught her on the backswing.<span style=""> </span>Pushed the chair against her, ran her body back until she hit a wall.<span style=""> </span>She groaned and her head snapped back into the sheetrock.<span style=""> </span>She didn’t drop the club, but her grip was looser.<span style=""> </span>This was my chance to get out.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I dropped the chair, grabbed her laptop from a small desk and ran out the front door.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Rich neighborhoods get the cops fast.<span style=""> </span>I was barely a block away when I heard the sirens.<span style=""> </span>Kept running until I remembered this spot.<span style=""> </span>Took an hour for my heart to stop pounding.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Fucking bitch.<span style=""> </span>If the cops weren’t looking for me before, I’m public enemy #1 now.<span style=""> </span>And what the hell does she get for it?<span style=""> </span>She knows I didn’t kill the Nerd.<span style=""> </span>Why the hell would I do something like that?<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Oh, shit.<span style=""> </span>I get it.<span style=""> </span>You probably saw it coming, didn’t you?<span style=""> </span>Could’ve said something earlier.<span style=""> </span>She wants to pin the murder on me.<span style=""> </span><br /><br />Because she did it.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Say she cancelled his credit cards like I told her to.<span style=""> </span>He comes home with his tail between his legs and no money.<span style=""> </span>But it isn’t enough to have her husband back.<span style=""> </span>Mrs. Nerd wanted her world back and there’s no way of that ever happening now.<span style=""> </span>It’s all over for her, like waking up from a nice dream and finding yourself surrounded by tarantulas.<span style=""> </span>Last time I had seen her, she was cracking, selling off the good life and losing her identity.<span style=""> </span>I know all about leaving things behind.<span style=""> </span>When you got nothing, you learn who you really are.<span style=""> </span>I’m a stone-cold badass.<span style=""> </span>At her core, she’s a killer.<span style=""> </span>But the Nerd doesn’t know that.<span style=""> </span>He walked into that house without a clue.<span style=""> </span>Mrs. Nerd has him show her where the dead drop went down.<span style=""> </span>But he doesn’t know she brought a kitchen knife along with her.<span style=""> </span>They’re in the dark and she gets that calm look on her face.<span style=""> </span>I know that look now.<span style=""> </span>It means, “You’re dead.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:12pt;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /><br />I’m dead.</span></span> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Been dead since Ballentine. </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Might as well go down fighting.</span></span><span style=""> </span></span></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-21136025681961183212009-07-21T08:09:00.000-07:002009-07-21T08:19:40.411-07:00SORRY I SCARED YOU<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Sons of bitches rolled me out of the condo.<span style=""> </span>That’s what got me back to your side of town.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>After leaving the college library, I pulled some bills off my shrinking wad for food and ate as I walked back to the condo.<span style=""> </span>I knew something was up when I saw a flashlight bouncing off the walls in the condo next to mine. <span style=""> </span>Stepping closer to investigate means getting caught.<span style=""> </span>I bailed, backpack strapped on.<span style=""> </span>I lost a pair of socks and underpants, a t-shirt and a good place to sleep.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>That’s not the worst of it.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I went back to Santa Monica.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Thought I’d drop in on Jasmine and have her set up a little face time with me and Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t even make it to her street.<span style=""> </span>Scorpion stung.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Sig.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I was glad.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>He was dirty and fucked up looking, had been sleeping outside like I had been.<span style=""> </span>He’s not such a badass when he doesn’t have his gang.<span style=""> </span>Or his car.<span style=""> </span>Because he wasn’t mobile, he must have been staying in the parks, waiting for me to show up again.<span style=""> </span>But I couldn’t just walk up and step on him like a bug.<span style=""> </span>I knew he still had his 9mm stinger.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>We spotted each other from across a street.<span style=""> </span>It was quiet, real late at night.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t have a chance against the gun.<span style=""> </span>I stashed my backpack in some plants by a parking lot so I could streamline.<span style=""> </span>Keeping Sig in sight and keeping my distance, I backtracked through the neighborhood.<span style=""> </span>He tried to close the distance, but I would quicken my pace to stay out of his spraying range.<span style=""> </span>Sig thought I was running away from him.<span style=""> </span>I took us to the only safe spot that time of night.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>The idiot was smiling when he stepped up and came within a foot of my face.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to crush him with my hands until he was just meat.<span style=""> </span>Then I’d feed him to the Rail Riders who turned on me.<span style=""> </span>Sig pulled his plaid shirt aside to show the but of the Glock in his waistband.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I cocked my head toward the guy in the 7/11. “What’re you going to do, Sig?<span style=""> </span>Shoot me in front of him and the security cameras?<span style=""> </span>Then what, run all the way to Ballentine?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Sig’s smile shook.<span style=""> </span>“I’m going to fucking kill you.”<span style=""> </span>That was all he could come up with.<span style=""> </span>“Just like I killed your dad.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Time slows down when you move fast.<span style=""> </span>I pushed Sig in the chest with one hand.<span style=""> </span>With the other, I grabbed the handle of the Glock.<span style=""> </span>Damn, that gun feels good in the hand.<span style=""> </span>I remember the texture of the plastic, the weight.<span style=""> </span>And my brain was turning so fast that I realized that I had cornered myself.<span style=""> </span>He couldn’t shoot me and I couldn’t drill him.<span style=""> </span>I wanted to pull that trigger, the gun was ready.<span style=""> </span>But I was sure the cops already wanted me for the Nerd’s stabbing.<span style=""> </span>Shooting Sig in public would really heat up the manhunt.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Sig was still stumbling backwards when I decided I couldn’t shoot him right then.<span style=""> </span>I threw the gun with all the strength I had.<span style=""> </span>It flew across the parking lot and into some giant window of a building next door.<span style=""> </span>Sounded like a big drum.<span style=""> </span>Then the gun landed in some bushes.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Next thing I saw was the yellow lights around the parking lot.<span style=""> </span>I was on my back.<span style=""> </span>Fucking Sig punched me in the face.<span style=""> </span>I rolled out of the way when he tried to kick me in the head.<span style=""> </span>I put the tread of my boot on his knee and it gave me enough space to stand up.<span style=""> </span>A little dizzy and saw some stars, but I wasn’t ready to give up.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Sig turned and started running for the bushes where the gun fell.<span style=""> </span>I chased and he veered away when he saw how many bushes there were.<span style=""> </span>He knew that if I got to him before he got the gun, it would be a hell of a beatdown.<span style=""> </span>So he kept running.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Across wide Wilshire Boulevard.<span style=""> </span>I was hot after him.<span style=""> </span>Just him and me and a score to settle.<span style=""> </span>We scattered pigeons out of the park over the bluffs.<span style=""> </span>Woke up some bums.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Caught wheezing Sig by a tree and dove at his legs.<span style=""> </span>We went down into the grass and wrestled, making pain where we could.<span style=""> </span>He was hissing in my ear, “No one’s going to miss you.<span style=""> </span>No one misses your dad.<span style=""> </span>Even the Rail Riders gave your ass up because of him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>I don’t know why he thought that would make me give up.<span style=""> </span>Just made me fight harder.<span style=""> </span>Almost tore his ear off.<span style=""> </span>He kicked me in the stomach and ran again while I was trying to breathe.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Thought I had him cornered.<span style=""> </span>Sig was up against the fence at the edge of the bluffs.<span style=""> </span>I collected enough of myself to keep at him.<span style=""> </span>Had a fantasy of throwing him over the bluffs and watching him fall.<span style=""> </span>It’s got to be a hundred feet down.<span style=""> </span>And at the bottom is a highway.<span style=""> </span>A truck could drive over him.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Then I thought he took care of that for me.<span style=""> </span>Sig disappeared.<span style=""> </span>Could’ve sworn he tossed himself over for the big fall.<span style=""> </span>When I got closer to the spot where he was, I saw that there were stairs leading down.<span style=""> </span>And Sig was booking it on them and heading for a bridge over the highway.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Fucker was all the way on the other side when I hit the bridge.<span style=""> </span>We both got spit out on the other end in an empty parking lot by the beach.<span style=""> </span>Sig kept running.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Then we were both going in slow motion.<span style=""> </span>Sand is impossible to move in.<span style=""> </span>He stumbled, I stumbled.<span style=""> </span>We crawled and I ate sand and felt it in my eyes.<span style=""> </span>Waves were crashing about a hundred yards away.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Getting punched in the face hurts.<span style=""> </span>Getting punched in the face by a fist wrapped in sand paper hurts worse.<span style=""> </span>It was ugly, down there on the beach.<span style=""> </span>I won’t lie.<span style=""> </span>I tried to kill Sig with my hands. <span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>But you got to know, Tokyo, why this all came down.<span style=""> </span>He killed my dad.<span style=""> </span>I’m fighting to stay alive.<span style=""> </span>I’m fighting back.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>It was dark and neither of us were any good at brawling in the sand.<span style=""> </span>We lost each other.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t figure out if I was standing up or lying down.<span style=""> </span>Black sand and water and sky.<span style=""> </span>No fucking idea where I was.<span style=""> </span>And I thought every shadow was Sig.<span style=""> </span>Don’t know how long I wandered around at the edge of the beach and the highway.<span style=""> </span>There are some buildings down there and I hid out, tried to get my bearings.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>The sun came up.<span style=""> </span>Beach was pale, like someone had cut its throat.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I used a spigot to wash the sand and blood off my face and knuckles.<span style=""> </span>But I wasn’t clean.<span style=""> </span>That’s how you saw me, Tokyo.<span style=""> </span>Sorry I scared you.<span style=""> </span>You were just out for your morning run, right?<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>I took the bridge and stairs back to the bluffs.<span style=""> </span>The town was coming alive, walking its dogs and riding its bicycles.<span style=""> </span>And there you were, Tokyo.<span style=""> </span>You didn’t even see me at first, just another bum.<span style=""> </span>Then you saw my face, recognized me.<span style=""> </span>Then you saw how beat up I was.<span style=""> </span>Sorry I scared you.<span style=""> </span>All I could think was to tell you the name of this blog, so you’d understand.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">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. </span></span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-57462675650550927102009-07-17T08:16:00.000-07:002009-07-17T08:29:38.810-07:00C4 AND CLAYMORE<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:130%;">Stabbed to death.<span style=""> </span>There was one more article about the Nerd’s killing.<span style=""> </span>They said he was stabbed to death at the park.<span style=""> </span>Rodeo did to the Nerd what the Nerd tried to do to me with the dagger.<span style=""> </span>I keep the knife in my backpack now.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Couldn’t find any more news about the Nerd.<span style=""> </span>It was already old news for everyone else but me and Rodeo and Mrs. Nerd and Jasmine.<span style=""> </span>I’m sure the cops are still interested, too.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">That’s why it was a big risk walking into that restaurant in Santa Monica.<span style=""> </span>Super fancy place, with a bar downstairs and probably tables up top.<span style=""> </span>Another place Jasmine told me Rodeo had a piece of.<span style=""> </span>I strutted in like I belonged.<span style=""> </span>Never underestimate a little swagger.<span style=""> </span>The hair- gelled guys and big blonde girls all looked at me like I was someone.<span style=""> </span>I am someone, motherfuckers.<span style=""> </span>I’m Trey, the guy who hopped a train to Los Angeles and messed this town up.<span style=""><br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The barmaid came by and liked what she saw, but that’s her job, right?<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“What can I get you?”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Pickup truck with a full tank of gas, redwood two by fours and a bag of concrete.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">She must have heard it all, didn’t even blink.<span style=""> </span>“What are you going to do with that?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Get the hell out of this city and build a house.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Sounds nice.<span style=""> </span>Call me when you hook up the plumbing.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I’ll call Tokyo first.<span style=""> </span>“Plumbing?<span style=""> </span>Hadn’t planned on that.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“I’ll bring you some extra napkins to draw the blueprints.<span style=""> </span>What are you drinking?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Drinking blood tonight.<span style=""> </span>I want Rodeo.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Now she blinked.<span style=""> </span>Then glanced at the bartender, a burly fucker who looked like he could crack a telephone pole in half over his knee.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I smiled to make her feel better, but it didn’t work.<span style=""> </span>“Not looking for trouble, sugar.<span style=""> </span>Looking for Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>Is he here?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“No.”<span style=""> </span>She wasn’t lying.<span style=""> </span>She was relieved.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“Give him a message.<span style=""> </span>Tell him that the guy he tried to kill is looking for him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">She kind of stammered, “I can remember that,” then studied my face, like trying to memorize it.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">“No doubt.”<span style=""> </span>But I wasn’t done fucking with Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>“And tell him that I planted a wad of C4 around the gas line to the kitchen of this restaurant.<span style=""> </span>And there are claymore mines pointed toward all the exits.<span style=""> </span>Can you remember that?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Her eyes went bigger than dinner plates.<span style=""> </span>She put her tray down and glanced around like the whole place was ready to go to hell any second.<span style=""> </span>“You serious?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">I leaned close and whispered, “Finger’s on the trigger.”<span style=""> </span>Then I turned and walked toward the front door.<span style=""> </span>Super fucking ice cold.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">The barmaid ran to the bar yelling, “Todd!<span style=""> </span>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.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Didn’t see anything in the online news about it today, but people’ll be talking.<span style=""> </span>Were you there?<span style=""> </span>Did you run out with everyone else?<span style=""> </span>Or did you see the cop cars and the flashing lights from the street?<span style=""> </span>Sorry if the false alarm fucked up your evening.<span style=""> </span>I was just taking a bite out of Rodeo’s business.<span style=""> </span>Hope it hit him hard.<span style=""> </span>Would’ve been cheaper to pay me in the first place.<span style=""> </span>He’s learning that now and will pay with good cash when the time comes.<span style=""> </span>Soon.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Until then, I can snipe at him and come back to the comfort of this college.<span style=""> </span>Nice around here.<span style=""> </span>School’s out for summer and there are only a few people wandering around the campus.<span style=""> </span>Dedicated types that can’t get enough learning, I guess.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Funny, I couldn’t jump out of school fast enough.<span style=""> </span>Barely graduated high school and that was it for me.<span style=""> </span>No JC, no Washington State.<span style=""> </span>Am I going to stand in the rain while the football team gets all the glory?<span style=""> </span>Hell no.<span style=""> </span>Sold weed to the football players, went to some of their parties, but never thought I was college material.<span style=""> </span>I learn it from doing.<span style=""> </span>That’s how I got good pouring concrete for fence posts.<span style=""> </span>And who ever got a girl off from things he read in a book?<span style=""> </span>Gotta learn on the job to develop the real skills.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">But college could’ve taught me different ways of making money than selling weed and picking up someone else’s dead drop.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size:130%;">No chance of getting that education now.<span style=""> </span>But I can almost see myself here.<span style=""> </span>Hanging out and talking trash in class and doing a little reading and a lot of spanking.<span style=""> </span>These kids have it good.<span style=""> </span>Probably have electricity and running water where they live.<span style=""> </span>I still have the empty condo and it’s a step up from the bushes or roof tops.<span style=""> </span>I guess I fit in enough around this college.<span style=""> </span>No one looks at me like I’m a raccoon that came in the cat door.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p style="font-family: times new roman;"></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-family:times new roman;" >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. </span><br /></span></span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-44364303045792732142009-07-14T07:58:00.000-07:002009-07-14T08:07:38.966-07:00IT JUST GOT REAL<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’m fucked. The Nerd is dead. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Rodeo’s a different story. The world could be a better place without him.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’ll bet that’s who did it. Rodeo must have found the Nerd.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">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. </span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Nerd was finished where this all started. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">And now I’m fucked. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.<br /> </span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-34805670607625905792009-07-10T08:08:00.000-07:002009-07-10T08:22:26.108-07:00BEVERLY HILLS<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=";font-family:";" >Can’t remember the last time I had any fun.<span style=""> </span>Back in Ballentine, hanging with the boys, or spanking Rosa, who was my last good lay.<span style=""> </span>No fun in Los Angeles.<span style=""> </span>Only daggers and guns and a lot of motherfuckers trying to off me.<span style=""> </span>Even screwing Mrs. Nerd wasn’t anything to smile about.<span style=""> </span>More like going to the batting cages.<o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />But last night.<span style=""> </span>That was fun.<span style=""> </span>And dangerous as hell.<span style=""> </span>I swear I saw a dude with a sub-machine gun.<span style=""> </span>This town is hard core.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />And big.<span style=""> </span>When I first got here, I hopped off a train in Downtown Los Angeles.<span style=""> </span>It took me a day to walk to Santa Monica, following the sun like the Rail Riders told me to do.<span style=""> </span>Wasn’t paying much attention to the city then.<span style=""> </span>It was all a bunch of low and tall buildings and traffic and bright skies.<span style=""> </span>I was hungry and alone and didn’t know what I would find near the ocean.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />I found a little black bag and a lot of trouble.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Been here long enough to get a lay of the land.<span style=""> </span>I can recognize the landmarks.<span style=""> </span>Across from the Veteran’s graveyard is the big concrete Federal Building.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>I walk wide around that building.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />The college campus makes me feel better.<span style=""> </span>Big eucalyptus trees and all kinds of hot chicks.<span style=""> </span>No one looks at me funny here.<span style=""> </span>I’m in their library now and they probably think I’m working on a term paper.<span style=""> </span>It’s an essay on how badass Trey is.<o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Chapter 1:<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>He’s like a ghost, living in the shadows.<span style=""> </span>Vampire Batman.<span style=""> </span>Sexy as hell.<span style=""> </span>Caught the eye of a couple of betties on the campus.<span style=""> </span>They were outside some theater or something, looking alt and hot.<span style=""> </span>But Trey was on a mission, gave them a smile and a wink and disappeared into the shadows.<o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Chapter 2:<span style=""> </span>Trey finds Beverly Hills.<span style=""> </span>Can’t miss it.<span style=""> </span>Keep heading east on Wilshire Boulevard.<span style=""> </span>You have to be careful on a long stretch with just a little sidewalk.<span style=""> </span>Big trees all around and the cars are blasting past.<span style=""> </span>Thought I was going to buy it a couple of times.<span style=""> </span>Came out the other end of that stretch and into the golden glow of Beverly Hills.<span style=""> </span>Glittering lights everywhere and department stores and hotels, all with clean glass.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Chapter 3: Trey mingles with the natives.<span style=""> </span>Saw two kinds in Beverly Hills.<span style=""> </span>One type was dripping with money.<span style=""> </span>Sunglasses at night and the women in tight jeans and high heels.<span style=""> </span>The other type was the tourist.<span style=""> </span>They pointed and took pictures.<span style=""> </span>Lots of Japanese.<span style=""> </span>They had money too, but from out of town.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />I was looking for an address, one of the restaurants that Jasmine told me Rodeo was an owner in.<span style=""> </span>At first, I hit up the locals, but they didn’t know shit.<span style=""> </span>Most of them looked stoned and sloppy.<span style=""> </span>The tourists knew more about that berg than the people living there.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Chapter 4:<span style=""> </span>This is bullshit.<span style=""> </span>I never wrote good essays.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />With the help of the tourists, I made it to the restaurant.<span style=""> </span>Not much more than a door to the street and ivy covering the walls.<span style=""> </span>The name of the place was real small, like they didn’t want anyone to know it was there.<span style=""> </span>Maybe they were hoping Trey wouldn’t find them.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Trey’s on the warpath.<span style=""> </span>What I want I get.<span style=""> </span>Even got lucky.<span style=""> </span>See what happens when you stop running and start hunting?<span style=""> </span>I took a chance going to this restaurant. <span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Rodeo’s Mercedes was parked out front.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />You think I had Mrs. Nerd buy me this Carhartt jacket in black because it goes with my eyes?<span style=""> </span>No, it’s so I can hide in the dark of night and spring on my prey when they least expect it.<span style=""> </span>I might be outside your place.<span style=""> </span>I could be looking in your window right now.<span style=""> </span>But I wouldn’t do anything to you.<span style=""> </span>You’re my only friend. <o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />I watched a couple of fancy cars and SUVs pull up to the valets.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Would be cool if I could waltz into that place with Tokyo on my arm.<span style=""> </span>We’d shoot sneers at all the fools, drink their bar dry and eat all the good food.<span style=""> </span>I’d let Tokyo order, don’t think I’d know the kind of food this place served.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Night got later and I made my slow way around to the side of the restaurant.<span style=""> </span>Took a while, like a sniper stalk.<span style=""> </span>My dad told me stories of some Nam snipers who took days to cover a hundred yards so no one saw them.<span style=""> </span>Then they’d put a bullet in a dude’s head and disappear like they were never there.<span style=""> </span>Sounds cool.<span style=""> </span>But Trey doesn’t have long range capabilities.<span style=""> </span>I got stealth.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Ducked into the shadows by a Dumpster when Beverly Hills Cop rolled by.<span style=""> </span>These boys were no shitty comedy.<span style=""> </span>Cocked buzzcuts looking for a reason to beat you down.<span style=""> </span>I want no business with them.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Cops cruised past and I found a good place to wait for my shot.<span style=""> </span>Couldn’t see the front door of the restaurant, but I had a view of the sidewalk and Rodeo’s car.<span style=""> </span>I waited.<span style=""> </span>Thought about those snipers, or my dad.<span style=""> </span>What was going through their minds as they crawled through a field or down a tunnel?<span style=""> </span>You plan every move, every inch forward?<span style=""> </span>Or does your body go automatic and you have time to remember your 18<sup>th</sup> birthday or first girl you kissed?<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />My 18<sup>th</sup> birthday party was a summer barbecue around the trailer.<span style=""> </span>All my friends were there.<span style=""> </span>Got blasted and punched out a good buddy and made out with a couple of girls at once.<span style=""> </span>Hell of a time.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />First girl I kissed was Brooke.<span style=""> </span>You don’t deserve to know anything about her other than she was sweet.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />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.<span style=""> </span>I got that thrill again and ran at him with everything I had.<span style=""> </span>Don’t think.<span style=""> </span>Take the shot.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Rodeo’s bitch was the first to see me coming.<span style=""> </span>Guess women are more trained to be ready for an attack.<span style=""> </span>He should’ve been paying attention to her.<span style=""> </span>Her hands went up to block me and her eyes went wide.<span style=""> </span>I noticed her shiny, tight pants and thin high-heels as I shoved past her.<span style=""> </span>Girl couldn’t keep her balance on the stilts and went over on the sidewalk.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t like hurting her.<o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />But I loved lowering my shoulder into Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>He was just turning toward his woman when I hit him.<span style=""> </span>He grunted all his breath out and we went down to the sidewalk.<span style=""> </span>I may have caught him by surprise, but the dude was ready after that.<span style=""> </span>Punching and kicking and gouging, we worked each other on the pavement.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />His face turned red and he flailed, but I kept pressing.<span style=""> </span>And I punched him once in the ribs with my free hand.<span style=""> </span>He kneed me in the side and reminded me of the bruises from my run in with Sig and The Eagle.<span style=""> </span>Part of my body knotted up and I barely managed to slap him with the back of my hand.<span style=""> </span>He felt it and I’m still feeling good now, a day later.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Footsteps started shuffling all around us and I heard Rodeo’s girl screaming.<span style=""> </span>She was probably singing the whole time, but it didn’t hit me until I knew it was time to blow.<span style=""> </span>I was on my feet in time to see the dude in the suit coming out of the restaurant.<span style=""> </span>No kidding, he had a fucking Uzi or something like it.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />If I were the American Ninja, I’d be spraying back at him with my belt-fed M-60.<span style=""> </span>I’d level that whole place.<span style=""> </span>By now you know I’m not the American Ninja and I ran like hell before the dude started popping caps in my ass.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Running away and laughing the whole time.<span style=""> </span>I’m still smiling.<span style=""> </span>I fucked with Rodeo on his turf.<span style=""> </span>Knocked his girl down and he couldn’t stop me.<span style=""> </span>People’ll think twice about going to that restaurant.<span style=""> </span>I made that fucker hurt.<span style=""> </span>If he’d dealt square with me, he would have had his girl all over his face that night, instead of an ice bag.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><br /><br />Rodeo’s learning.<span style=""> </span>You don’t cross Trey.<span style=""> </span>It’s an expensive lesson.<span style=""> </span>He’ll pay later, once I’ve softened him up and he’s really ready to hand over the cash for the black bag.<span style=""> </span>That’s right.<span style=""> </span>Trey’s still going to get his payoff.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />And it’s going to be a hell of a lot of fun kicking ass until I ride off into the sunset.<span style=""> </span></span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment--> <span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-89811819903852962282009-07-07T08:36:00.000-07:002009-07-07T08:52:38.196-07:00PLAYGROUND BULLIES<!--StartFragment--><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">You try and make things better and they get worse.<span style=""> </span>Ain’t that always the way things are?<span style=""> </span>Maybe you have better luck.<span style=""> </span>You and I should switch places.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Want to trade?<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Didn’t think so.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>You wouldn’t last a second out here.<span style=""> </span>And I’d probably hate your life.<span style=""> </span>Working five days a week?<span style=""> </span>That ain’t human.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Besides, I still have business to settle before I disappear.<span style=""> </span>Don’t know if there’ll be any payday, but I got here with nothing, I can get somewhere else with less.<span style=""> </span>Kicking ass will be my reward.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Then you can hear about it on the news and know the real story.<span style=""> </span>Tell your friends that you and Trey go way back and you were along for the ride.<span style=""> </span>Hell, you might give my eulogy before the 21 gun salute.<span style=""><br /></span><br />Tell them how I left the safety of an empty condo behind and walked into Santa Monica ready to fight.<span style=""> </span>I used Jasmine to call out Rodeo and it’s just a matter of time until I find him.<span style=""> </span>I have some spots of his to haunt and if she talks to him, he’ll be looking for me.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>There was one fight I knew wouldn’t be hard to find.<span style=""> </span>All I had to do was stand out in the open.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p><br /><br />Sig.<o:p></o:p><br /><br />Time to end it.<span style=""> </span>One less shark swimming around me.<span style=""> </span>But it never works the way you want it to.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I had walked up and down the open air mall in Santa Monica, but Sig wasn’t there.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Strange sitting and eating out in the open.<span style=""> </span>Hadn’t done that in a while.<span style=""> </span>Been hiding out like some creature of the night.<span style=""> </span>I’m the sexy vampire that’ll get the teenage girls creaming.<span style=""> </span><span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Halfway through my lunch I hear the rumble of the Valiant.<span style=""> </span>I finished the food fast, knowing I’d need the energy.<span style=""> </span>Let them come.<span style=""> </span>Fuckers.<span style=""> </span>Don’t ever tell anyone I backed down from a fight.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I was ready for this one.<span style=""> </span>Polished off the burrito and walked through the park, finding an open spot between the playground and the basketball courts.<span style=""> </span>There were a few people out, but these weren’t the type to start brawling.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>The fight was all for me, Sig, Big Wes and The Eagle.<span style=""> </span>The public place gave me one advantage, no Glock to attract attention.<span style=""> </span>Sig must have been hoping beat me close enough to death that they’d be out of town before I kicked for good.<span style=""> </span>Trey doesn’t go down that easy.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>They came all three shoulder to shoulder like gunfighters.<span style=""> </span>If we were all heavy with six-shooters, I would’ve mowed those fuckers down before anyone blinked an eye.<span style=""> </span>Instead, I waited with fists until they were close enough to throw.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>They were willing, too.<span style=""> </span>No trash talk or jokes or threats.<span style=""> </span>It went down real quiet.<span style=""> </span>The Eagle was first.<span style=""> </span>I knew he would be.<span style=""> </span>They rely on him for all the heavy lifting.<span style=""> </span>Big ol’ overhand right and I ducked underneath it.<span style=""> </span>Got the toe of my boot on the side of The Eagle’s knee and he hopped sideways into Sig.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I tackled Big Wes and that’s when the people in the park started paying attention.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t see them, but I heard some moms pulling their kids from the sand and the basketball game stopped short.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Sig grabbed me from behind, but I wasn’t done with Big Wes.<span style=""> </span>Even as I got yanked off him, I landed shots in his face.<span style=""> </span>Saw the blood on his beard.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Felt Sig’s knee in my side, then my back and I heard some snaps in my spine.<span style=""> </span>But I’m still walking, so he didn’t break my back.<span style=""> </span>He’ll wish he had.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I was kicking while Sig held me and The Eagle’s big fist tried for my face, but hit me in the chest instead.<span style=""> </span>Still hurt like hell and I saw stars and lost all my air.<span style=""> </span>I kept kicking.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Got enough breath for the hurt to really set in.<span style=""> </span>That made me mad.<span style=""> </span>Sig was having a hard time holding on to me and I twisted around and put an elbow into his head.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>It was like motherfucking ice dancing.<span style=""> </span>I flew through the air and landed in the playground, eating sand.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Then on comes Big Wes, spitting blood and pissed off.<span style=""> </span>He’s flailing, kicking and punching.<span style=""> </span>I took one to the ribs and tasted copper.<span style=""> </span>He backed off a bit when I punched him on the inside of his thigh.<span style=""> </span>Gave me time to stand up and get a good grip on him.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>The jungle gym was metal bars, painted in rubber.<span style=""> </span>The whole thing rattled when I slammed Big Wes into it.<span style=""> </span>I doubled him over with a knee to the gut and saw Sig and The Eagle coming.<span style=""> </span>I slid under the jungle gym for safety and yanked Big Wes’ arm through a ladder.<span style=""> </span>He was groaning and gasping for breath.<span style=""> </span>Big Wes found enough breath to scream when I broke his arm against a rung of the ladder.<span style=""> </span>I heard the bone snap, just above the elbow.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>I pushed him forward into Sig and The Eagle, just to slow them down.<span style=""> </span>Big Wes turned into an animal.<span style=""> </span>He screamed and shook and got his good hand into Sig and would not let go.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>But The Eagle was free to come after me.<span style=""> </span>I ran.<span style=""> </span>But it was to buy time, make a plan.<span style=""> </span>I even thought about running into this big gray church across the street.<span style=""> </span>That would just corner me and I don’t think The Eagle gives a shit about Christ or Buddha or whoever else.<span style=""> </span>He cares about money and weed and pussy and lifting weights.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>“Fuck Sig.”<span style=""> </span>I threw it out and he kept coming.<span style=""> </span>We were in the parking area of an apartment building, dodging around the cars.<span style=""> </span>“You gonna take the big fall for him?<span style=""> </span>Crossing state lines to mess me up is Federal, man.”<span style=""> </span>Now I was getting to him, I could tell because he glanced back to the park where Sig was balled up with Big Wes.<span style=""> </span>“Would Sig do that for you?<span style=""> </span>Fuck no.<span style=""> </span>You saw what he did that night.<span style=""> </span>You were there, Eagle.<span style=""> </span>Sig got out of the car and shot my dad without a fair fight.<span style=""> </span>Sig ain’t right in the head.<span style=""> </span>And he shouldn’t be running the North River.”<span style=""> </span>This was all I had.<span style=""> </span>I knew I’d lose a stand up fight with The Eagle.<span style=""> </span>“<span style="font-style: italic;">You</span> should be.<span style=""> </span>Sig’ll run the gang into the ground.<span style=""> </span>You take over.<span style=""> </span>Leave him here.<span style=""> </span>Take Big Wes with you and leave Sig here.<span style=""> </span>It’s my score to settle with him.<span style=""> </span>Just the two of us.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>The Eagle thought, made conversations in his head.<span style=""> </span>He spoke slow, so we both understood.<span style=""> </span>“You can’t come back to Ballentine.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>“No,” I told him.<span style=""> </span>“I’ll never go back.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Somehow I’d always thought I might go home.<span style=""> </span>Now I can’t.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>The Eagle and I heard Sig running in our direction and we took off in different directions.<span style=""> </span>I ran a big loop around the park and Sig chased.<span style=""> </span>Out of the corner of my eye I saw The Eagle collecting Big Wes and helping him into the Valiant.<span style=""> </span>Both Sig and I stopped running when the Plymouth growled to life and peeled away.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Sig is now alone.<span style=""> </span>With me.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>Come and get it, Fucker.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>We didn’t have time to finish it that day.<span style=""> </span>Couple of cop cars showed up with lights spinning and sirens chirping.<span style=""> </span>Some of the people at the park started pointing and me and Sig disappeared in different directions.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p>When you see it on the news tonight, you’ll know why those homeless guys were fighting at the park.<span style=""> </span>Tell your friends that I didn’t back down.<span style=""> </span>And I’m still here, ready for more.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p>I’m back in the university library.<span style=""> </span>Didn’t see any empty spaces for my dad in the Veteran’s graveyard.<span style=""> </span>He’d be happier on this campus, scoping the hot ass all around.<span style=""> </span>Even in summer, there are smart bitches with books and computers.<span style=""> </span>I’d try to get in on one of their parties tonight, but I have other dinner plans.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">With Rodeo.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-92145222264458918232009-07-03T08:41:00.000-07:002009-07-03T09:02:09.842-07:00HOME INVASION<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I had to go back to Santa Monica.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That’s where all the action is.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">It started with Jasmine.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Like diving back to hell after you’ve climbed out.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">But I hadn’t made my way to heaven.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">You want me to just leave it all behind.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Keep running away and find another life wherever I land.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Is that what you’d do?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Run?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">With less than a hundred dollars on you, two changes of clothes and nothing else?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Won’t get far.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">What do you do when you run out of money?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">What do you eat?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">You’re hungry for too long, you get tired and sloppy.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">So what if I’m in Colorado and away from this hell?</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">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.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Then goodbye Trey.</span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><o:p style="font-family: times new roman;"></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >There’s no more running.<span style=""> </span>I have to make this work here and now.<span style=""> </span>This is my shot at living.<span style=""> </span>You’ve probably got a plan.<span style=""> </span>Sitting at your desk, reading this and knowing that you get a raise after three months of more ass-kissing.<span style=""> </span>After the raise, a new car, maybe make some babies.<span style=""> </span>You got a house or a condo or an apartment and food in the fridge.<span style=""> </span>And if there’s nothing worth eating, you have a phone and you can get delivery.<span style=""> </span>You could be reading this while eating a slice of hot pizza.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >I’m sitting in a library with a belly that, four hours ago, was full of two tacos for 99 cents.<span style=""> </span>It’s live or die, every tick of the clock out here.<span style=""> </span>Trey isn’t running anymore.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Jasmine wishes I blew out of town.<span style=""> </span>She would’ve been happier if Rodeo used his .45 to perforate me.<span style=""> </span>Except for Tokyo, I think the whole population of this town believes the only good Trey is a dead Trey.<span style=""> </span>They can wish all they want.<span style=""> </span>Until someone does it, I’m going to fuck some things up.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >And it started with Jasmine.<span style=""> </span>She’s my closest link to Rodeo.<span style=""> </span>I waited in the bushes by her front door until 1am.<span style=""> </span>Same routine, she came up the street alone, returning from girls’ night.<span style=""> </span>She wouldn’t have a guy with her.<span style=""> </span>Girl like that doesn’t bring a guy to her place.<span style=""> </span>If she fucks someone, she does it where she can make a clean getaway.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Ladies, a word of advice, check over your shoulder before you unlock your door.<span style=""> </span>Especially if you’re alone.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >As soon as her door opened, I was behind her and pushing her into her apartment.<span style=""> </span>She gasped for air like she was drowning.<span style=""> </span>I shoved her too hard and she stumbled to the floor.<span style=""> </span>I closed the door and locked it and turned on a light.<span style=""> </span>Never saw someone look so scared.<span style=""> </span>Good.<span style=""> </span>That’s how I wanted her.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“I’ll scream.”<span style=""> </span>She slid backwards on the floor.<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“Do it.”<span style=""> </span>I moved toward her, didn’t give her space.<span style=""> </span>“Call the cops and I’ll tell them all about the Nerd and Rodeo and the drop and how you started it all.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >Her mind spun through other options.<span style=""> </span>“I’ll call Rodeo.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“Yes,” I smiled.<span style=""> </span>“That’s what I want.<span style=""> </span>You call him.<span style=""> </span>Tell him that Trey is looking to tangle with him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >This gave her some leverage and she stood up, tilting her chin up at me.<span style=""> </span>“You don’t want to find him.<span style=""> </span>He’ll kill you if you try and double-cross him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“The fucker double-crossed <i style="">me</i>.”<span style=""> </span>She didn’t expect this.<span style=""> </span>“We set up the meet and I was ready to hand off the goods.<span style=""> </span>Instead of the money, he tried to give me a bullet to the brain.”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >She blinked a couple of times.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />The girl was off balance and I kept pushing.<span style=""> </span>“I’m sure that’s what he had planned for the Nerd after the deal went down.”<span style=""> </span>She walked backwards until she hit a tall chair and leaned against it like she was dizzy.<span style=""> </span>“You think he’d let you keep walking and talking after all this?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“Me?”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“Like you’re not part of it?<span style=""> </span>Like being a hot Arab with tits makes you immune?”<span style=""><br /><br /></span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“I’m Persian, you fucking redneck asshole.”<span style=""> </span>Girl has sparks.<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“You think Rodeo gives a shit about your sweet Persian pussy?<span style=""> </span>He’ll cut your throat and fry your body with acid in the bathtub until you’re nothing more than a stain.”<span style=""><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br />She was picturing what I said and glanced to the bathroom.<span style=""> </span>“I’m not involved.<span style=""> </span>I hardly know him.”<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" >“You know him enough to hook him up with the Nerd.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />“We needed the money.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />We, I thought.<span style=""> </span>Mrs. Nerd needed the money.<span style=""> </span>Jasmine has a job and a place of her own.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />She still leaned on the chair. Don’t like hurting girls, but it was nice to see someone else shaking for a change.<span style=""> </span>I didn’t let her get any balance.<span style=""> </span>“It only took one phone call.<span style=""> </span>Now you’re involved.<span style=""> </span>You’re as dead as I am.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />“No.<span style=""> </span>No.<span style=""> </span>This was supposed to be simple.”<span style=""> </span>Her eyes welled with tears.<span style=""> </span>It almost felt like a privilege, watching her cry.<span style=""> </span>Don’t think a lot of guys get to see her this way.<span style=""> </span>Then she looked at me and I saw it wasn’t sadness, it was anger.<span style=""> </span>“You fucked it up.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />“Even if I hadn’t picked up that bag, there was no good way out of this.<span style=""> </span>If the deal had gone down the way it was planned, you and the Nerd would both be dead by now.”<span style=""> </span>I laughed because the idea struck me funny.<span style=""> </span>“I saved your life.”<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />She laughed too, but it was more like she was spitting poison out of a wound.<span style=""> </span>“I’m not going to thank you.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />“No one ever does.”<span style=""> </span>Ain’t that the fucking truth.<span style=""> </span>“Don’t want it.<span style=""> </span>I want payback.<span style=""> </span>I want Rodeo and you’re going to tell me everything you know about him.”<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />She did.<span style=""> </span>Wasn’t much.<span style=""> </span>She knows him from clubs and bars.<span style=""> </span>Dude is big business, over and under the table.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Rodeo’s part owner of a couple of restaurants around town.<span style=""> </span>I got the names, the addresses.<span style=""> </span>I left her place from the back door Rodeo had used before and I heard the locks quick behind me.<span style=""> </span>She probably didn’t get much sleep that night.<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />I didn’t either.<span style=""> </span>Back to the rooftops.<span style=""> </span>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.<span style=""> </span>Place looked brand new, but there was no one living there.<span style=""> </span>Climbed to a second floor balcony around back and the glass door was open.<span style=""> </span>Slept alright there on the new carpet.<span style=""> </span>But I couldn’t stay comfortable.<span style=""> </span>I woke up remembering Rodeo pointing that gun at me.<span style=""> </span>And Jasmine was my only way of getting to him.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />Making tracks back to Santa Monica and Jasmine, I had passed a big graveyard.<span style=""> </span>Looked like miles of clean white stones.<span style=""> </span>All the same size and in perfect order.<span style=""> </span>Veteran’s graveyard.<span style=""> </span>Like all the headstones were standing at attention in their parade uniforms.<span style=""> </span>I saw my dad dressed with his medals and polished buttons.<span style=""> </span>He was saluting someone.<span style=""> </span>It was a picture from a newspaper or magazine.<span style=""> </span>He kept it flat in a book and I’d find it every once in a while.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:";" ><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />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.</span><o:p></o:p></span> <!--EndFragment-->Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-28819046947365786912009-06-30T09:21:00.000-07:002009-06-30T09:22:24.289-07:00NOT DEAD<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Ain’t easy typing when your hands are shaking. Don’t know how long I’ve been awake. Awake and running. Been running since Ballentine. Tired. Tired of running. Tired of people trying to put bullets in me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Thought it would be different with Rodeo. Thought he was a fucking business man. Guess he is—the kind of business man who wants it all for himself and doesn’t want to pay for it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Why is it that only the motherfuckers out there have guns? I should have a gun. Always staring at the wrong end.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Should’ve been gone by now. Pile of money. Hop a couple trains. Canada. Find a nice little cabin on some land. Plant some apple trees. Get a cell phone. Give Tokyo a call. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Sounds better than two .45 slugs. One in the heart and one in the head.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I tried to plan it airtight. A way in, a way out. I needed a place to feel safe. Isolated, but not too remote. There’s a VA hospital around here with a lot of parks and grass. I’d wandered past a couple of times, following the flow of the other homeless guys, trying to get a feeling for this city. But those guys are different. Most of them are broken in the head. Me, I was just looking for a little work and a new plan.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Figured the VA would be a good spot for the meet with Rodeo. Might have a government file in one of those buildings with my dad’s name on it. Maybe he’d be watching. I’ll take whatever I can get.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">My dad didn’t help me. Payback for me not being ready with the .38 when Sig showed up. Guess I deserved that one, Dad. I’ll give you a gift some time. I’ll give you Sig’s soul so you can crush it under your boot for the rest of time. Maybe then we’ll be even.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Almost got to see my dad for real in the afterlife. Hands are still shaking. It was late last night. After midnight at the VA. Everything was quiet. Couple of lights on in the buildings. Security circulated in his golf cart, but you’d have to set something on fire for him to notice. Seemed like the perfect place.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I waited at a tree and wished I had a cigarette. Don’t smoke much, but it kills the time. Even if I had one, I’d have saved it, though. Didn’t want to give away my position too soon. I came out from the tree when Rodeo’s Mercedes showed up.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">He prowled into the VA and killed the headlights. The car rolled to a stop and he waited. I ain’t no car-hop. Or a hooker leaning into his window so he can take what he wants and drive away before anyone can stop him. I stood on the wet grass and let him get out of the car and come to me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rodeo carried a heavy duffle bag and I fought the urge to smile. With that bag, and my backpack, which was ready at the tree, I could start it all over. I’d leave that night.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">His face was tight and he glanced all around us. He’d done this before. Trey’s no greenhorn either. Made plenty of deals. Not for this much cheese, but I ain’t nervous.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Open the bag, let me see the money.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“And hello to you, too.” He put the bag on the ground and showed me a couple of his teeth. Don’t know if it was a smile.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Tell you what, after the deal’s done, we can douche each other and paint our toenails.” I’d been waiting too long to dick around.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Business first.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Damn right. Let me see the money.” Something wasn’t feeling right. Rodeo was too calm. He was faking something.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rodeo leaned over the bag and unzipped it. Like he was skinning an animal, its guts made of bundles of money. He took out one wad and fanned it, showing the bills. “It’s all here. A fair price.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“<span style="font-style: italic;">That’s the kind of thing that gets you killed</span>.” My dad, whispering into my ear again.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Show me another stack.” The dagger was heavy in my waistband. I’d have to get it out of the sheath this time.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“I need to see the thumb drive. I need to know you have it.” His body wasn’t moving, but he was planning on it. Little twitches, adjustments in his joints.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">As far as I could tell, the deal was still on. I pulled the black bag from my inside jacket pocket. I watched his eyes when I showed him the thumb drive. Rodeo had been slick, right up to seeing what he wanted.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This wasn’t a sloppy charge with a dork dagger. It was something pretty. Rodeo is a professional. He barely moved and the gun came out. I would’ve appreciated the artistry of it if I wasn’t on the wrong end of a .45 automatic. Should’ve guessed Rodeo would play cowboy with a Colt.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Throw the drive to my feet.” Like he was talking to a retard. Well, it was stupid of me to trust him.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I dropped the drive back into the black bag. I was real calm for some reason. More calm than I am now. Guess I’m getting used to people wanting to kill me. My brain took everything in: Rodeo’s belt buckle. The .45 was cocked. In his other hand was the full stack of cash. The Mercedes was running, puffing condensation out of the tailpipes.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“You don’t need to kill me.” I took a step closer and pointed at the open bag full of money. “Just give me half of that and I’ll disappear.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">He laughed, ugly. “No negotiations.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Dead body’s going to be bad for your business.” A little closer.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">“Another dead bum. No one will care about your body.”<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I saw my dad, dead in the rain. He might still be lying in the mud. I understood why he crawled into those Vietnam tunnels. You have to do it because the fear will paralyze you. Jump in before you think about it.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I grabbed for the gun. Didn’t think. Couldn’t let myself die.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rodeo had the pistol at his hip and pushed it forward to shoot, like he had to throw the bullet at me. Some people would try and knock the gun away, give it a twist or chop his wrist. I ain’t the American Ninja. But I do have moves. I grabbed the top of the .45 and pushed back as he came forward.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I could feel the tension in his arm as he braced for the kick of the gun. Rodeo squeezed the trigger with all he had. But my hand had pushed the slide back and blocked the hammer from falling. I was some kind of awesome, cool as a killer robot, but I wasn’t out of trouble yet.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Both of our free hands were occupied. He had the wad of cash, I held the black bag with the thumb drive in it. Rodeo stuffed the cash into his jacket pocket and started to claw at my hand on his gun. I balled my fist around the thumb drive and punched him in the jaw.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It was good and bad. I got the satisfaction of his head snapping back and a grimace of pain instead of a smile from Rodeo. But when he jerked back, the slide on the .45 came forward. I twisted out of the way and, with my hand buzzing from punching him, fumbled with the gun while trying not to lose the drive.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Two men and four hands on one gun. Neither of us wanted to die.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But one of us was cocky and wore thin leather shoes to a killing. You can bet that idiot wasn’t me. I wear work boots. And I stomped on his fucking foot and wanted to break his whole body.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Rodeo yelled in pain, right in my ear. But he was strong. I couldn’t get the gun away, but I did push the magazine release and seven rounds meant for me thudded to the ground. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I gave his foot another smash and knocked him to the grass. I figured, one shot in the chamber. No time to mop it all up, I gave him one shot at me.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I grabbed the duffle full of money on the run. I got my backpack from by the tree and kept running. Didn’t hear the shot. My dad told me, in Nam they said that you don’t hear the one that kills you.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Kept running. Through the VA. Under a bridge or a street or something. Finally stopped in a grove of palm trees. Some kind oasis surrounded by on-ramps and off-ramps of a freeway. Rodeo wasn’t coming. He couldn’t find me in there.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">But I wasn’t alone. Other homeless dudes were camping there. They hid under cardboard and tarps, protected from the headlights of the cars coming and going, circling for the freeway. Late at night and still people were driving everywhere. I used the lights of the cars to check the duffle bag. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now. The wads were fake. Couple of tens or ones on the top and cut-up paper in the middle. I stripped the real cash out, about 68 bucks.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">That’s when my hands started shaking. Haven’t stopped since. I’m on a college campus right now, in a library. They probably think I’m a junkie or something. But no one’s given me any trouble. They know better. I’m not taking shit anymore.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Hands are shaking because I’m angry. Tired of running. Tired of people wanting me dead. It’s time Trey fucks someone else up. </span><br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-14665571874270418572009-06-19T08:50:00.000-07:002009-06-19T09:02:55.947-07:00BALLENTINE<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Remember when I said that women get you killed? I don’t take my own advice. But I’m writing this, so you know I’m not dead. And it was worth the risk.<br /><br />For a second I got a cold chill under the fancy dress shirt. What if I picked a day she wasn’t working? Finally in Los Angeles, Trey got lucky.<br /><br />Tokyo was looking fine. Snappy blazer and some ass pants that showed off a sweet peach. Her hair was glossy and pulled back and she still had that wise-ass look.<br /><br />She’s the only one that treated me with any kind of nice in this town. Couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I slicked myself up with the fancy pants and shirt with buttons and hoped she wouldn’t remember I wore them the last time we talked. If she knew the clothes were the same, she didn’t seem to care.<br /><br />I strolled into the clothing store like I had all kinds of business to be in the rich part of Santa Monica. Soon, it won’t be an act. We had the place to ourselves and I leaned against the counter as she organized a rack of bracelets. I thanked her for the recommendation on the restaurant, the beer and burger place.<br /><br />“Glad you liked it.”<br /><br />“But it was missing something.” I pocketed the business card for the store.<br /><br />“What’s that?” and she didn’t even look up from the bracelets. I liked that. We were talking like we knew each other. Friends, even, who trusted each other enough not to watch every move.<br /><br />“You.”<br /><br />That got her to look at me. Dead in the eye. We stood that way for two minutes, a couple of years. It meant something. It really did. That look was enough for me. The best thing I’ve found in this town.<br /><br />She didn’t talk, so I took over. “Someday. Soon, I’m going to call this store and I’m going to ask for you. What’s your name?”<br /><br />She told me, but for her safety, I’ll keep calling her Tokyo. I kept going, “When we talk on the phone, I’ll tell you where I am. Might be far. Out of state. But when you find the time, you’ll come out to visit. And we’ll have a good old time, build it up and tear it down. Because you and me have a lot to talk about and a lot of things to live together.”<br /><br />It got to her. She didn’t look away or smirk or make an excuse. Like I said, the eyes meant something. She’s game, I can tell. All kinds of questions chattered in her head. I watched her pick one. “What’s your name?”<br /><br />I told her the truth. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll know by the time I call you.”<br /><br />Have you ever been that slick? I don’t think so. And then you have to make an exit. Her hand was frozen on the counter and I put mine on top of it. “Don’t forget me.”<br /><br />And then I was gone. She’ll be hearing from me. I hope she does. The only way I won’t call is if I’m dead. Could happen soon.<br /><br />My last will and testament: I’m not leaving any of my stuff to anyone. Don’t have anything anyway. Let the dagger rust. The thumb drive isn’t mine. There’s a copy of it on Gabriel Chacon’s laptop computer. Who cares about clothes and shoes.<br /><br />It would be nice if someone buried me. Back in Ballentine. Home. Where the trouble started. If this is my last chance, I have to tell you what happened.<br /><br />It’s simple.<br /><br />Lying in the mud, just outside of Ballentine, Washington, are two bodies. One of them has three 9mm holes in him. He is lying on his back. The rain was hitting his face when I left.<br /><br />The other body has one .38 special slug in him. He’s twisted, face down, with his arm bent around his back. Never forget the way he looks.<br /><br />My dad and I were in the trailer, trying to talk and watch TV and drink beers with the pounding of the rain on the roof drowning everything out. Everything except the sound of the Plymouth Valiant.<br /><br />The rain never bothered my dad and he went out toward the car without a slicker. I stood in the doorway to the trailer and waited. The Valiant stopped in the clearing near the trailer and left its lights on. The rain looked like small, falling fish in the headlights.<br /><br />Sig got out with two other guys. The Eagle and Rass, Sig’s brother. Sig and his crew are the North River Gang. They handle things in their part of town and we don’t deal with them. Ballentine’s perfectly divided by the river. Plenty of territory for everyone. But Sig doesn’t think so. He wanted it all. My dad and I were selling good weed to the South River Family for years and everything was cool. Until Sig decided he would squeeze out the South River and take the whole town. He wanted our weed and our guarantee we wouldn’t sell to the South River.<br /><br />I told you before how hard my dad was. Never backed down from a fight and Sig was nothing to him. He stood his ground for months, despite Sig’s threats. It came down to that night.<br /><br />My dad walked right across the muddy lot. Like crawling into a VC tunnel. No fear. “What the fuck, Sig?”<br /><br />The last thing I ever heard him say.<br /><br />Three shots from Sig’s gun were louder than the rain. My dad staggered backwards and tried to stay on his feet. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He made a fist like he was going to deck Sig, then he fell backwards into the mud. The smoke from the Glock hung in the rain.<br /><br />I killed the lights in the trailer and went to where I knew my dad kept his gun. Sig and Rass were coming closer to the trailer and Sig was yelling, “Don’t do anything stupid, Trey. Your dad didn’t know business. But you can play this right.”<br /><br />The problem with a trailer is there’s only one door. Didn’t have time to bust out a window. I came out the door and Rass was no more than ten yards away. He didn’t have a gun. He put his hands in front of him, like he wanted to stop me so we could talk. I fired the revolver and put one round in his chest. It knocked him into the air and backwards. He did a flip and twisted himself up, stopping face down in the mud.<br /><br />Sig screeched something, don’t know what he said. Then the bullets started flying at me. But it was dark on this side of the trailer, away from the Valiant’s headlights. I shot back, emptied the revolver, so they’d think twice about chasing, and ran into the forest and rain and night.<br /><br />I ran and left my dad there, dead. Getting rained on. I’d like to bury him. I’d like someone to bury me if I don’t make it. Maybe we could be side by side.<br /><br />The rain didn’t stop and I kept running. Daylight didn’t mean anything and barely dented the steel grey sky. Not a lot of people to trust. No cops. Not for a second generation weed grower. I killed Sig’s brother. He’s got a bigger gang than me. Anyone who wasn’t in his gang would want to be on his side of a fight. Outgunned and outnumbered. No bullets left. I ditched the revolver, making sure there were no prints.<br /><br />My dad had carried that .38 into the tunnels of Nam. He said the .45 was too loud. You’d go deaf down there if you shot it and then you’d be dead. Usually couldn’t see anything anyway, so you had to rely on hearing and smell and everything else. So that .38 had kept him alive. Except this time. I was too slow. Should’ve had it in my hand when I heard the Valiant. This all could’ve ended differently.<br /><br />The only people I could trust were old Nam buddies of my dad. Some head-cases that call themselves the Rail Riders. They ride freight trains all over the West Coast, running drugs or guns or looking for excuses to get into fights. Never rolled with them before, but I’d put back some beers with them and knew where to find a couple that day. They hooked me up with the basics of hopping freights, gave me the routes to get to Los Angeles.<br /><br />I thought it would be new down here. I could start over. But when trouble wants you, it’s going to find you. And I asked for it, too, when I picked up that black bag. But I didn’t ask for Sig down here. Gotta think one of the Rail Riders told him what my plan was. That’s a fucked up double cross. Add it to the list.<br /><br />Because nothing’s easy, right? Anything you want, you have to take. Snatch it out of the teeth of the shark before he bites your arm off and you bleed to death.<br /><br />Now you know.<br /><br />If I die making this deal go down, if it all blows up and makes the news and someone asks about me, tell them the truth. Trey didn’t shoot first. They killed my dad. I shot back.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-84292110662791285152009-06-16T08:30:00.000-07:002009-06-16T08:38:59.031-07:00THIS DUDE NEXT TO ME IS CRAZY<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Battery died on the laptop. Didn’t think to steal the charger, too. I always meant to give the laptop back, my insurance policy if you remember, but I could’ve used it a couple more days.<br /><br />Instead I’m back in the stinky library and there’s a dude twitching next to me like there are fire ants in his veins. I’m jumpy, too. Still have the energy from the meet with Rodeo. It went down and the wheels are turning.<br /><br />This guy next to me keeps scratching at an old tattoo on his forearm. A Ka-Bar knife with a snake or a dragon. Can’t tell, its faded and his skin’s raw from the scratching. Looks like he’s around my dad’s age. Probably a cracked VA dude who served in Nam. I’d ask him, he might’ve even known my dad, but I don’t want him to go ballistic in the library. At least not until I’m done writing this. <br /><br />Wish I could be using the laptop. Feels exposed out here. Don’t think Sig’s looking outside of Santa Monica, but I gotta be careful. You ever steal something? If you need it bad enough, it’s easy. As long as you know what you’re doing. Be confident. Walk in, do it and walk out. That’s how I got the laptop in the first place. Stealing is easy when you need it. Returning things is hard. <br /><br />That’s when you get caught. <br /><br />Couldn’t do it when the coffee shop was just open, then it would only be me and the workers. I waited for the first big rush and moved in with the crowd. I slid the laptop onto a counter at the end of the pastry case and beat it before anyone got a look at my face. Slick. <br /><br />And by now the dude should be happily reunited with his laptop. When it gets charged and he checks it, everything’ll be fine. <br /><br />But if I get dead, you need to tell him where to look. Find Gabriel Chacon and tell him to dig up the Tunnel Rat folder buried in his computer. Give it to the cops or the Feds and blow the thing open. But only if I get dead. As long as I’m alive, I have a chance at the payoff and the fuck off. <br /><br />And the chances are looking good. Met with Rodeo a little while ago. It was at an art supply store I’d seen on my way to this library before. Seemed like a public enough place, but not too crowded. And I figured a good looking but scruffy Trey would fit in well with the artists. Knew a chick back in Ballentine that painted. Weird in the head, but fun. The bitches in this art store were hot. Even the one behind the counter. Maybe I’ll open an art gallery when I get my payoff. <br /><br />I may have fit in well, but Rodeo stalked into that place like he was venturing off the map. This guy belonged in a dark bar with glossy hookers and his friends wearing track suits and gold chains. And carrying Desert Eagles. Cocked. <br /><br />He spotted me in an aisle with some bent-wire tools for carving clay. We pretended to look at the gear and tested each wood handle and poked our fingers with the tips. Our voices were low and cool. No way anyone knew what we were doing.<br /><br />Can’t figure out Rodeo’s accent. Russian or Hungarian or Dracula or something. Not too thick, he wasn’t fresh off the boat. He was a business man, carried himself like a professional. And quick, didn’t care about the bullshit of how I got the black bag or what I knew about the Nerd. He wanted to make a deal.<br /><br />At first he thought I was stupid. “Do you have it with you?”<br /><br />“It’s safe.” And it is. It was hard leaving it behind, but you don’t bring the goods to the first meet. No one but Batman would find where I hid the bag.<br /><br />Rodeo wanted the goods, but he seemed relieved to be talking to a real dealer like Trey, rather than a jellyfish like the Nerd.<br /><br />“What is your price?” He wasn’t annoyed, he was doing business.<br /><br />“I don’t know what you were going to pay the Nerd, but I’m sure I’m coming in under that. You’re getting a good deal. I want three hundred thousand dollars.” He didn’t flinch. “But there’s something else I need.”<br /><br />Now he sounded cautious. “Tell me.”<br /><br />“On the thumb drive, it’s identities, right?”<br /><br />“Yes.” I caught just the faintest whiff of his anger that I knew what was on the drive.<br /><br />“The Nerd collects them from what, the internet?”<br /><br />Rodeo kept it casual. “Everything was funneled onto the drive. It is the only record and this transaction will go very smoothly if you are willing.” <br /><br />That’s why the Nerd just didn’t make a copy of the information. Suppose he was covering his ass at work. If someone saw a list of identities on his hard drive, it might send up some red flags. But by putting all his eggs in one basket, he took away his leverage. And gave it to me. “I want the money. And I want one of the identities.”<br /><br />He paused at a block of gray clay like he was trying to see the cowboy he could carve out of it. “Which one?”<br /><br />“I don’t give a shit. I want one with good credit and a clean police record.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him nodding and understanding. “We’re good with the money and if you set me up with the identity, I disappear for good. Win win.”<br /><br />He laughed and I smelled cigarettes. “I like you.”<br /><br />“You don’t know me.” <br /><br />“Even better.” <br /><br />We set the time and place. He’ll have my money and arrangements for the identity. I’ll have the black bag. I’ll disappear like smoke in the rain and you can only dream of the kind of life Trey will be living. <br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-32772849935276398552009-06-12T08:24:00.000-07:002009-06-12T08:38:19.433-07:00DARK KNIGHT<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Fucking Blackberry got cut off. Fucking Big Wes. He needs an extra ass kicking. I was half way through writing to you and I lost everything. But it ain’t no thing to a dude like Trey. I upgraded.<br /><br />But I’m not cellular anymore and I had to find a shitty payphone to call Jasmine. It wasn’t easy dropping the change in there. I should’ve made Mrs. Nerd get me a </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">prepaid cell when we were on the spree. Wasn’t thinking.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />So that means that Trey was looking extra shady, ducking his head away from the passing cars and pedestrians with the scummy phone to my ear and telling Jasmine what to tell Rodeo.<br /><br />You might’ve seen me and thought, who the fuck uses a payphone? Only bottom-feeders these days. I guess that’s me. I’m down with the scum, but there’s gold in this muck. Just got to pan it out. So don’t judge when you see a guy on a payphone. He’s doing what he can. It ain’t easy out here.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Hell, look at me. You’re my only friend. How fucked up are things when I have to confide in a stranger? Extra fucked up. But you can’t just sit back and enjoy the show. You’re part of it. If you don’t hear from me, watch t</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">he news. You might be the only person to throw some dirt on my face when I’m down for the count. Then you can tell the real story, not the bullshit everyone’ll make up.<br /><br />Start by saying that it was circumstance that pushed me to this. I’m a straight up guy. Never double-dealt someone who didn’t deserve it. But I’m also a man who makes his own decisions. Can’t put things in the hands of the cops or anyone else who’ll fuck up and leave me in the cold. I’m on my own and everything’s coming down on me. You put a guy under all that pressure, he turns hard, like a diamond.<br /><br />I’m not happy about all the things I’ve done. Can’t change it though. The bell’s been rung. Started with three shots from Sig’s Glock. Half an hour before that, I was drinking a beer, out of the rain and bullshitting with my dad.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Now I’m sitting on the roof of a coffee shop with a stolen laptop, a silver dagger, and a black bag full of trouble. The coffee shop’s closed, but they didn’t turn their wifi off and I’m poaching.<br /><br />Like motherfucking Batman, seeing the city from the rooftops. This is the way to go. As long as I’m not caught climbing up, I’m out of the line of fire up here. No way will Sig find me fifteen feet above the ground.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />Sorry about the laptop, dude in the blue sweatshirt. Shit, you might have been reading me from this thing. Don’t see my blog bookmarked though. Got some good porn though, don’t you? You gotta be more careful with your possessions. It’s a dangerous world out there. Trey lurks from the rooftops. I know that cream in your coffee is important, but keep an eye on your computer when you get up. Or don’t put it on a table so close to the door. Common sense, dude.<br /><br />You will get a bonus if y</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">ou ever get it back, though. Deep inside, in a secret folder I planted, is the contents of a particular thumb drive. Consider yourself lucky. I almost ate a dagger for what’s on this thing and you get it for free. You’re my insurance policy. Look for the folder titled Tunnel Rat.<br /><br />Might not need insurance. I could be on the othe</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">r side of this in a day. Got in touch with Jasmine and she said that Rodeo was ready to meet. I was standing out in the daylight, talking into a payphone that smelled like shit and wracking my brains for a place to hook up with Rodeo. All the while, I got eyes all over my head like a fly. Sig was out there. He was looking for me and dead serious. Think fast, right? Set up the meet and get the hell out of the daylight before the North River Gang shows up and shuts down the whole show with one 9mm silver tip hollow-point.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">All I knew was that I had to get out of Santa Monica for a minute. Sig knows I got business there and has to be hanging close. I remembered a store near the crazy-ass body odor Los Angeles library and told Jasmine to tell Rodeo to meet me there in a day.<br /><br />That’s tomorrow.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Tonight I’m Batman on a roof, with someone else’s laptop. I could be in the most comfortable bed in the world.<br /><br />That’s right, I saw her. Had to cross through Santa Monica anyway, couldn’t hurt to drop in on Mrs. Nerd. Maybe she had heard something from the Nerd. She looked pissed as hell and surprised to see me. But Trey can play it smooth when he needs to. I told her it was getting dicey and I had to take off for her safety. Trey is a dangerous guy to hang with. Trouble follows.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />She bought it. Made me lunch. House looked strange, like some things had been cleaned out, couple of bare walls. Selling off the goods to stay afloat. No word had come in from the Nerd. I told her that he wasn’t with the mistress. Mrs. Nerd’s eyes </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">went wide when I told her I had seen the mistress. Gave her a wink. Never let Trey surprise you, I’m capable of anything.<br /><br />That got a laugh, then that hungry look on her face. Hungry like starving, like she’d kill someone to cannibalize them. But that window had closed. A good meal, a clean bathroom and a shave. That’s all I wanted. I could feel the chains of Los Angeles falling away from me and didn’t want to get more tangled again. I should be free in a few days and want to slip away clean.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">It’s hard to say no to a woman. I played it like I didn’t know what that look meant, but that didn’t last long. Hell, she fed me didn’t she? Trey’s not ungrateful.<br /><br />But I didn’t stay in the bed. I’m on gravely tar paper tonight. Not the best thing for he</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">aling my aching body after the throwdown with Sig and his boys, but it’s better than being trapped by comfort. Said my goodbye to Mrs. Nerd and gave her some platinum advice. Told her to cancel the Nerd’s credit cards. That’ll bring him home. She smiled, feeling the idea, then chewed it for a second, like eating glass and liking the taste of her blood. I told her to find someone who knows what they’re doing to look after the Golden Delicious trees in the front yard. Apple trees should bear good fruit.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />I’m out of Santa Monica now. Near to the meet with Rodeo. If this were Ballentine, I wouldn’t be laying low on a rooftop. Too much rain.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Some people are out late in this neighborhood. Laughing and all. I should be stomping the town with Tokyo, drinking and talking shit. Maybe in a few days. She can pack her bags and we’ll blow out of this hell hole together.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeqrM5WdGjCAF0VrVJfNcUVpqgnpgknpXGitvuCw_9czDekwCO3O87wyIMM59xZ3_xHY_-DTD7QW561fI3jOC4cGdDyNtn8pYTsOWylt4PQUHi4OLeEPrGNbfqxRkhk_tVantE1GzJBg/s1600-h/NiceLibrary.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijeqrM5WdGjCAF0VrVJfNcUVpqgnpgknpXGitvuCw_9czDekwCO3O87wyIMM59xZ3_xHY_-DTD7QW561fI3jOC4cGdDyNtn8pYTsOWylt4PQUHi4OLeEPrGNbfqxRkhk_tVantE1GzJBg/s200/NiceLibrary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346465148116805842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Clean Library.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5JY8i6EI7XXBSXLAr8UXCkqeYrXnW8ciZ_yRkA9MkRgqKtjYONvlnwIE7N7U8p71XASQ5p5JKPp_KSzgf4zlur0FMi8e6RTbaqRcu2ckGyNTDAfiT6295B_jCyXOmKYQvgKwEBNkiRM/s1600-h/MontanaAss.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio5JY8i6EI7XXBSXLAr8UXCkqeYrXnW8ciZ_yRkA9MkRgqKtjYONvlnwIE7N7U8p71XASQ5p5JKPp_KSzgf4zlur0FMi8e6RTbaqRcu2ckGyNTDAfiT6295B_jCyXOmKYQvgKwEBNkiRM/s200/MontanaAss.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346465151111719026" border="0" /></a>Ass on Montana Ave.Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-14486687196606372232009-06-09T08:08:00.000-07:002009-06-09T08:18:36.113-07:00BUY THE RIGHTS<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">One good thing about Los Angeles is that people want to be seen. Everyone’s putting their name out there, trying to be the next something before they become old news. <br /><br />Jasmine is no different. I Googled her on the Blackberry and came up with a bunch of hits, different places she worked and credits like “Associate Producer” for piece of shit films no one’s ever heard of. I wrote down the number for the most recent hit, where she was listed as “Development Associate.”<br /><br />What the fuck is an “Associate?” I guess it’s when you’re not cool enough to be the real thing, they slap that name on you so you can feel better than the rest of the fools out there. Think of me as Trey, “Associate Spy” and genuine ass kicker. <br /><br />As soon as business hours started, I called her office. No stink-ass payphones for Trey. I’ve still got the Blackberry. Some hot and cold running secretary answered the phone and I asked for Jasmine. When the girl asked who was calling, I gave the Nerd’s name. That got me right through. <br /><br />First thing Jasmine says, “Where are you?”<br /><br />The Nerd burrowed so deep that neither his wife or his mistress know where he is. But Jasmine didn’t sound like the annoyed princess, wondering where her sugar daddy is with the next box of chocolates. She sounded like a crook, a backroom dealer with money on the table and a car waiting outside and three other stops that night and no time for bullshit. This is a girl I can deal with.<br /><br />“This isn’t the Nerd.” But I used his real name. “This is the guy who knocked on your door the other night.”<br /><br />“I called the cops.”<br /><br />Fucking great. She told them what I look like. Fuck. Hope they don’t call Ballentine. At least she gave descriptions of Sig and his North River dicks. Maybe the cops’ll take them off my hands. <br /><br />I didn’t chew her out. I need her on my side. Slow, I explained that the fight at her door had nothing to do with the Nerd.<br /><br />She asked if I knew where he was. I said I didn’t. But I wasn’t looking for him. “I want to talk to the man in the black Mercedes.” <br /><br />Jasmine’s slick. She didn’t let his name slip. “Why?”<br /><br />“I have what the Nerd was going to sell him. The Nerd fucked himself out of the deal. The man in the black Mercedes has to deal with me directly.” <br /><br />“How do I know you’re not lying?” This girl is as sharp as a knife, I tell you. Cuts through the bullshit. Body and brains.<br /><br />“Black bag, thumb drive. Identities.” That got a long silence. <br /><br />Then, “Give me a number where I can have him get in touch with you.” <br /><br />“Ain’t no number for me.” No idea when this Blackberry’s gonna get cut off. “You have him standing by. I’ll get in touch.”<br /><br />“Don’t call me here again.” Her voice was low and guarded. First time I heard a little shake in her, the collision of separate worlds. <br /><br />“Give me a better option.” <br /><br />Jasmine reluctantly ground out the numbers for her cell phone. I wrote them down on a little piece of paper with a short pencil I boosted from a library. She said it would take some time to get the guy to come around. He’s careful. I said I knew, the dude slipped away before I had a chance to talk to him in person. Trey even went so far as to apologize to the lady for getting her involved. I’m so smooth. And she took it like I meant it. Which is bullshit. She’s probably the one that started this deal in the first place.<br /><br />I imagined the Nerd lying next to her hot body, crying after he came too fast. She’s stroking his hair and he’s worried about the economy and she’s thinking he might cut off the sparklies. So Jasmine’s sharp brain makes a plan. The Nerd’s in software, somehow she knows he can collect identities. And because she’s hot and parties with people with money, she’s friendly with Rodeo, who’s some kind of high-end criminal. Bang. It all comes together for her. <br />Everybody wins. Especially her. The sugar daddy doesn’t die and the sparklies keep flowing. She didn’t plan on Trey. <br /><br />I had to ask, “What’s a development associate?”<br /><br />“I read scripts and ideas, develop them into movies.”<br /><br />“I have a great idea for a movie.”<br /><br />Low laugh. “Pitch me.”<br /><br />“Super sexy cold motherfucker from the Pacific Northwest comes to Los Angeles, finds himself some trouble, kicks some ass and comes out on top.”<br /><br />“Who plays you?”<br /><br />“Michael Dudikoff.” <br /><br />“Who?”<br /><br />No wonder new movies are shit. No respect for the classics. Must’ve watched this movie a hundred times with my dad and my friends. “The American Ninja,” I tell her, then hang up on her. Time. She’s got a little time. Then she’d better have Rodeo for me. Let’s get this over with. I want my money. I’ve had enough of this town. <br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-42136496213923466212009-06-05T09:05:00.000-07:002009-06-05T09:12:33.568-07:00BRICKS ARE HARD<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Almost broke my back. The knuckles on my right hand are throbbing like hell. Ribs are tight. My left arm is tingling from the fingertips to the elbow.<br /><br />I was lazy. You almost never heard from me again. From now on, eyes in the back of my head. Forever.<br /><br />It isn’t easy being Trey.<br /><br />Following Jasmine home, I was so focused on her that I didn’t feel the wolves behind me. Sig and Big Wes and The Eagle. They must have picked me up at the open-air mall. I was so conditioned to listen for the Valiant, I didn’t think they could trail me on foot. Stupid.<br /><br />After Rodeo bailed in his Mercedes, I knocked on Jasmine’s door. Rodeo couldn’t be that far away and she could call him. Then he and I could make a fair deal and everyone would sleep happy that night.<br /><br />Three knocks into the door and I feel the meaty hands of The Eagle on me. I smell the fried food that’s soaked into his jean jacket.<br /><br />Oh, fuck. I’m thinking it, but I don’t have time to say it. The Eagle had me flying. There were steps up to Jasmine’s door and I didn’t need them on the way down. I was lucky I had my new backpack over a shoulder. It helped cushion the landing when I fell back onto the brick planter. That’s how I almost broke my back. I said that the backpack helped, but it wasn’t fucking comfortable to smash into the top of a brick wall.<br /><br />For a second I saw a bright light and thought it was the light at the end of the tunnel, if you know what I mean. Then the silhouette of Jasmine stepped into the light and I knew she had opened her door to see who was knocking. Don’t think she liked what she saw.<br /><br />Jasmine slammed her door and the next thing I saw was Sig’s ugly face. He grinned like a skull. Like he wanted to eat my soul.<br /><br />Even flat on my back, pain shooting up and down my arms and legs, Trey ain’t easy to put down. As I twisted to get to my feet, I threw my left elbow out and tagged Sig in the side of his rotten head.<br /><br />He stumbled away and I’m standing when Big Wes starts throwing. I’ve fought this fucker before. We brawled at a party by the river because the girls were looking at me and not him. Who do you think won that fight? That’s right. Trey.<br /><br />That time, we were drunk. This time, I was still catching my breath. But I held my own. We traded punches and I got my hands into his shirt. Big Wes is a little taller than me, about six two. He’s got a lot of pounds on me, but I’ve got smarts. I put my knee into his hip and he whipped to one side, putting his beard into my face. Disgusting. I gave him the knee again and threw him to the ground.<br /><br />And here comes Sig and The Eagle at once. The Eagle’s a big blond dude, all American motherfucker. Sig always looks like his face was just dipped in dirt.<br /><br />They wanted blood.<br /><br />Trey’s not ready to bleed. I turned into Jackie Chan, Clubber Lang, Michael Dudikoff, Bruce motherfucking Lee. I was all fists and feet and knees and swinging my backpack around. Got Sig in the jaw. Big Wes limped toward me and I poked my fingers in his throat.<br /><br />The Eagle hits hard. Didn’t crack my ribs, but I think he bruised them. The next fist was aimed at my face, but I ducked and he nearly scalped me.<br /><br />I faked like I was going to punch him, then kicked him right below the knee. Slowed him down a little. Gave me enough time to see Sig with his crazy eyes. He pulled at his shirt, at the waist of his jeans and I knew things were about to change fast.<br /><br />Fight with what you’ve got. I yanked the dagger from my pant leg. It was fast and The Eagle couldn’t get away in time. The thing was made for stabbing straight into the soul of a dark elf and I tried with all my strength to put the blade through The Eagle’s ribs and into his heart.<br /><br />The tip hit his body and I felt a shockwave slam through me. I didn’t even break the skin.<br />The fucking knife didn’t come out of its sheath. It scared the shit out of The Eagle, though, and the leather sheath must’ve hurt, but it didn’t kill the dude.<br /><br />No time to laugh about it. Sig got the Glock out. I remember the gun. Three shots. The smoke lasted, even in the rain. <br /><br />I didn’t even have time to get the sheath off of the dagger. I elbowed past The Eagle and grabbed Big Wes. We spun toward Sig and he didn’t have a shot. Big Wes got the sheathed knife in the gut, then I threw him into Sig. They tangoed for a second and I ran.<br /><br />Believe me, I wanted to stay and put that blade through Sig’s eye, but that Glock could’ve come out fast and struck like a snake.<br /><br />I ran. A tactical retreat as Dad would call it. He’d understand. He knows I’ll get my payback.<br /><br />There was a victory in running. When I grabbed Big Wes at the end, I felt something on his hip and boosted it from him. So I faced Sig and The Eagle and Big Wes and I lived. I’m full of my own blood ate a couple burgers from the drive-thru, and I’m writing this from the roof of an empty shoe store. That’s right, I’m mobile and talking to you from Big Wes’ Blackberry again. The last message came from this thing. Fucking cool. I gotta get me one of these.<br /><br />So if you see a story on the news about some homeless guys fighting in front of a hot chick’s condo, you’ll know I didn’t start it.<br /><br />Now all I have to do is get to Jasmine without Sig and his fucks spotting me.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-72991083283532355752009-06-02T07:38:00.000-07:002009-06-02T07:50:34.491-07:00JASMINE<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">I’ve got to catch you up. Fucking hungry and hurting, but I’ll get this out then find some food. No libraries open this late, but it doesn’t matter. I’m mobile, on a Blackberry. Just hope they don’t cancel the account before I finish this.<br /><br />I’ve seen girls like the mistress before. The same attitude. Nose in the air, the kind of chick that looks right through you. There were a few of them in Ballentine. She’s got the same attitude, but I’ve never seen a body like she’s got. Pictures and movies, sure, but she was 3-D. Boom, boom, boom. The hair, the tits, the ass. Even across the street, from behind some bushes, I could tell she had the complete package.<br /><br />And I knew it was her without knowing it was her. Waiting and hiding, I had a name and address. But her condo building had at least eight doors. There was no doubt when I saw this chick. Like I said, boom. Dark skin and hair, Arab I think, so I’ll call her Jasmine.<br /><br />Mrs. Nerd is no hag, and active in the sack, still, Jasmine would make me cheat on her. No doubt the Nerd was easily hooked. I couldn’t imagine Jasmine letting a jellyfish like the Nerd slip it to her, but people are motivated by all kinds of things. Hell, even Mrs. Nerd could’ve done better, but she was still married to him.<br /><br />Maybe it’s Los Angeles that fucks everything up. Look at me. I came here to lay low, make a couple of bucks before moving on with a plan. Should be easy to be small in a big city. Bullshit. Within a couple of weeks, I’m holding a little black bag full of identities, there’s at least four people who want me dead, I have a silver dagger stashed in my waistband and I’m looking to squeeze a couple hundred large out of someone. I should’ve gone to Arizona. <br /><br />After leaving Mrs. Nerd sleeping, I caught the sunrise from the park over the bluffs. Some motherfuckers get up early. Joggers and dog walkers were out just after first light. Unless I’m fishing, I’m sleeping in. Not these days, though. Can’t remember the last good night sleep I got. Before the trouble in Ballentine.<br /><br />Sig and his fuckers aren’t giving up easy. That's for sure. They were probably asleep that morning, so I was good for a few hours.<br /><br />A little cash from Mrs. Nerd’s purse got me some breakfast. Wearing new clothes opens doors to a guy. They treated me like a human at the diner, smiled and everything. The waitress was cute and I smiled back. And I knew that’s when I would get a bullet in the back. As soon as you’re comfortable, that’s when the hammer comes down. That's the truth. I wasn’t careful enough and I’m paying for it now, but I'll tell you about that after I get through this. New clothes don’t change the old Trey. Finish the business, I told myself in the diner. Did leave a little tip, though.<br /><br />That meal took me through the day, and into the night. I ignored my stomach and thought about the payday. Couple hundred thousand would set me up fine. Keep it simple. Don’t get lazy, or sloppy. Sitting in the park, watching the people around me, seeing the Pacific Ocean stretching out to infinity, I made all my plans. They changed, the house looked different every time, a car in front, or a pickup truck. Apple trees. Pear trees. Grapes, a vineyard.<br /><br />I thought the mistress would be working during the day, figured I didn’t need to risk being out in the open watching her place. Wait for the dark.<br /><br />Two times, sitting in the park, I heard the Valiant rumble by. But Trey’s not stupid. When I picked my spot in the park, I knew I was hidden from anyone driving on the street. If Sig and his dickheads were on foot in the park, it would be a different story. But I wouldn’t mind throwing those fuckers off the bluffs. Give me a stand up fight and I do fine. A little bruised, but alive.<br /><br />Felt like my dad in Nam. Plants and leaves all around and the enemy out there wanting your blood. He must have been scared shitless at first. But you can’t keep man like my dad down. If he was scared when he crawled into those tunnels with a flashlight and a .38, he didn’t let it get to him. You panic in a situation like that, you’re dead. He lived through it. Lived to raise me right. Now I’m the hard motherfucker I need to be.<br /><br />Wonder if it’s still raining in Ballentine. Hope it’s dry by now. Maybe sunshine for my dad.<br />The streetlights came on in Santa Monica and the sun set dirty into the sea. Felt good to stretch my legs. My new boots are almost broken in. I found the mistress’ condo easy, then I had to pick which one was her.<br /><br />Like I said, I didn’t have to guess. As soon as Jasmine hit the street, I knew. It was easy to follow her through the neighborhood. Girl has a walk.<br /><br />But I kept my distance and my cool. Didn’t want to get picked up by the cops, thinking I’m a perv. After a block or two she meets up with another girl. Also hot. Three more blocks, another slammin’ chick. This town is crazy.<br /><br />The flock of birds heads to this open air mall and disappears into a restaurant with a bar. Girls’ night. They must have had the dudes drooling in that place. That’s why a chick dresses up like that, right, with the sparkles on her shirt and the tight jeans and boots and hair shining. I wished me and Tokyo could share a drink in that bar and watch the dudes throw themselves at the birds and get sliced apart by the talons.<br /><br />But I sat outside, near some fountain, listening to a guy play a decent guitar. I worried about a back door to the restaurant for a while, but eventually the flock of pretties glittered their way out the front.<br /><br />We took the walk in reverse, dropping the girls off until Jasmine was alone the last block to her condo. I was the monster in the shadows, following the sound of her boots on the sidewalk. You wanted me to grab her then. Shake her for answers. Squeeze it out of her until she’s crying and has to give up all the information. That’s just bad business. All it would get me is arrested, then I’d really be fucked.<br /><br />Keep your eyes open, that’s what pays. Who was waiting outside her condo door?<br /><br />Rodeo.<br /><br />Jackpot. They go inside. Lights turn on. They’re talking about something, I see a little movement. But only two people. No sign of the Nerd.<br /><br />I creep closer to hear what they’re saying. Can’t get the voices. Her building has wide brick planters in front and lights all over. Fuck it, I thought. Like crawling into an enemy tunnel. I got ready to knock on the front door.<br /><br />Then the living room light turns out. Another light turns out. Through the sliver of a window, I see Jasmine’s alone now. What the fuck? My answer came in the low tones of German engineering.<br /><br />Rodeo’s Mercedes slid around the corner and up the street. He must have been parked in an alley. Goddamn back door out of the building. Rodeo’s being careful, knows something’s up after the drop went south. If I were a spy, I’d have some little magnet I could throw on the car and use my GPS to track the motherfucker. Instead, I’m hiding out and hurting all over because I nearly fucked up and got dead. More on that later, I gotta eat something. Lucky to be alive.<br /><br />Lucky I’m a hard as iron and twice as cold.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-3653790057625931732009-05-29T07:18:00.000-07:002009-05-29T07:25:05.111-07:00DRUNK ENOUGH TO TALK<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Tokyo was right. That restaurant was good. Beer and burgers. Even better because Mrs. Nerd paid. And kept paying as we put away beer, beer, beer. I hoped the booze would lubricate her tongue. There were details I wanted, something about the Nerd breaking the rules of marriage. I knew it would take me to the next level, but she was talking all around it, like she was on fucking Oprah. She doesn’t hold her beer as well as Trey and got the swimming eye. And sad. Not a happy drunk or a brawling drunk. Dad was always ready for a fight. Four beers to a fight. <br /><br />I get horny. It wasn’t easy to sit in that crowded place and listen to Mrs. Nerd slur on her sap. She grew up somewhere in Florida, went to college and met the Nerd. It was her motor that pushed them out of the sticks and into the big time. She never wanted to go back home and she lit a fire under his ass to work on his theories and software they built the best life on the best side of town. I’ve never been to Florida, but I’ve seen enough Cops to know that there are some real shitholes out there. Doubt she came from that. Mrs. Nerd’s gotta be straight outta the ‘burbs. Whatever. She made a life and then it all went downhill when the Nerd stretched himself too thin. <br /><br />It’s her fault, too. Didn’t tell her that. But if she was the one who powered them to the top, how did she let him fuck it up? I won’t make that mistake. When I’ve got my payoff from this bullshit, I won’t let it slide out of control. Hold your money tight. That’s what my dad always said. She got lazy. <br /><br />And she was almost crying into her beer, talking about a divorce doing no good because there isn’t any money except the house and it kills her to think about living somewhere else. I told her I never lived in a house. And now, I don’t own shit except my good looks and wits. That perked her up a little. Good thing, too, some of her friends showed up at the bar. Mrs. Nerd puts on her happy face and introduces me as the Nerd’s cousin from Chicago. Yeah, I tell them, I just graduated from Yale and I’m taking some time off to travel and see the world and spank as many bitches as I can. <br /><br />No, asshole, I didn’t say the thing about spanking bitches. I’m sure you think I’m stupid to hang with Mrs. Nerd while the payday is looming somewhere out there. I’m not dumb enough to set fire to the roof over my head. And, despite what you think, hanging with Mrs. Nerd is the smartest thing I could’ve done. <br /><br />Told you I was waiting for the confession. Time and beer and Trey’s attention, it greased her gears. Walking home, she’s staggering and leaning on strong, reliable Trey, she gives it up.<br /><br />The Nerd’s cheating on her. Been doing it for a couple years. The Nerd’s a terrible spy. A homeless dude from out of state caught him. It didn’t surprise me that Mrs. Nerd knew about him slipping it to another chick. But I was surprised she never called him on it. Women are weird. She didn’t want to make waves. Let him screw around, as long as her perfect world isn’t stained. But isn’t him fucking around a stain? I don’t get it. Maybe when I get a ton of money it’ll make sense. <br /><br />I play the conversation like I’m on Mrs. Nerd’s side. How could he do something like that to her? After all she’s given him? Now she was really spilling. She first found out about it because of the Nerd’s cell phone. One strange number kept showing up. Then she checked the credit card bills. Some restaurants and fancy spending that she wasn’t around for. <br />This guy is an idiot. It’s like he wanted to get caught. I started adding money to the price he was going to have to pay for the black bag. Dumbass tax. <br /><br />Or I might not have to deal with the Nerd anymore. I figure the whole deal with the black bag and thumb drive full of identities and Rodeo must have been set up outside of work. The Nerd works at a software company, why would one of his coworkers turn him on to a deal? They’d take it for themselves. The hook came from somewhere else. What better place than the bitch on the side. I’ll bet she knows Rodeo. <br /><br />And I have her name and address. Mrs. Nerd let it slip while telling a story about how she followed the Nerd after work one night when he said he had to stay late. He drove to a condo building near the park over the bluffs. I’ve slept there a couple of times and know enough about the area to prod Mrs. Nerd with a couple of questions so I get the specific building. Then I throw out a couple of names, “Candy, Suzy, Lizzie…” like they’re all the sluts on the earth. Mrs. Nerd spits out the name, confides in me because I’m the best friend she has.<br /><br />Mrs. Nerd is sleeping now. My bag is packed with my clothes and her food. That was the last time on the comfortable bed. My boots are laced. This would’ve been a nice house, if it wasn’t burning down. <br /><br />I’m off to find the mistress. <br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-40379920029346815382009-05-26T08:33:00.000-07:002009-05-26T08:50:12.117-07:00THE SEED<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Last night, Mrs. Nerd said something, like a seed, and I’ve got to stick around until she lets it grow. I can’t pry it out of her. She wants to tell me. It’ll take time. And the payoff will be worth it.<br /><br />Her wedding ring had clinked against her glass of wine and she nearly spilled it in the bed. “It’s not cheating if he already broke the rules.”<br /><br />That was the seed. I wanted more. I kept it smooth. “Dude’s a fool not to treat a woman like you right.” I knew the details could be money for me, but she clammed up and watched the Lakers game as if she cared. Like she didn’t think I had heard what she said. But I did hear it, and she spoke it out loud. Now I’m the patient priest, waiting for the confession.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I’m wearing a pair of pants that would have my friends in Ballentine laughing their asses off. And if they saw the shirt, complete with buttons and a collar, they’d squeeze out a brick. But who gives a shit what dudes think?<br /><br />Mrs. Nerd insisted on paying for a nice shirt and pants for me. Guess she didn’t want to see me in jeans and a t-shirt anymore. And before you start thinking that Trey’s hooked, let me cool that idea.<br /><br />I clean up slick. Believe it.<br /><br />Tokyo thought I looked good. I could see it in her eyes.<br /><br />Trey’s on the loose today. Almost too loose, like on the end of a noose. Mrs. Nerd had to keep up appearances and met the girls for their weekly golf game. No way am I going to sit in that house alone, not with these clothes on.<br /><br />Don’t worry, I brought the dagger with me. Still fits down the inside of my left leg and I keep the shirt untucked.<br /><br />It had been a while since I had been down to my old park. Nothing changed. None of the garbage had missed me. I kicked around in the plants behind the bench, hoping for a note or some communication from the Nerd, or even Rodeo. No luck. Just dirt.<br /><br />I’m still holding the bag and someone’s going to pay.<br /><br />Who knew that a shirt with a collar was bulletproof? Walking away from the park, I was caught out in the open. I heard it first and didn’t have anywhere to run. Besides, running makes you look guilty. I kept my strut and felt the growl of the Valiant approach. Stay cool, I told myself. I’m just a dude out on the street in fly clothes. They’re looking for dirty Trey.<br />I told you I clean up good. Sig drove right by and didn’t recognize me. Didn’t even look at me. But I saw him. He was in the passenger seat, strung out. Red eyes and white knuckles as he gripped the chrome around the open window. Keep looking Sig. I’m right here, asshole, and when you find me, it’s going to get ugly.<br /><br />Driving was one of his North River fucks, Mike. Everyone calls him The Eagle. Don’t know why. In the back seat, looking like he was asleep, was Big Wes. Not to be confused with Little Wes, who works at the porno shop in Ballentine. The heaviest hitters of the North River Gang are in Los Angeles looking for me. Wanting me dead. They can want ‘til it hurts. Maybe I want things from them. Maybe when they find me, it might not be as easy to kill Trey as they think. I have a score to settle, too, you see. Could be them that winds up dead.<br /><br />Or I’ll get my payday from the Nerd or Rodeo, both maybe. When that happens, I’ll get my revenge on Sig by living well. Big house and spread of land. Set for life. He can rot, looking for a Trey that doesn’t exist anymore. Hard to just walk away, though. There would be satisfaction in watching Sig bleed to death.<br /><br />Trey put his smile back on after the Valiant rumbled away. Looking this good, it was time to put my slick on. I walked right into the clothing store like I belonged in the richest neighborhoods. Too bad I didn’t have a big douchebag watch, but my cuffs looked sharp. Place was empty and I got the immediate eye of Tokyo.<br /><br />That girl is wise. All kinds of smarts and smart ass in her eyes. And she likes what she sees. I could tell. I get the up and down, quick and subtle. She pops her hip to one side, slides her hand over her glossy hair.<br /><br />“Can I help you?” she says, like this is all business.<br /><br />“Yeah, I was hoping you could give me a hand.” Confident smile, I’m cool as a bullet before it’s shot. “I’m from out of town, staying with a friend in the neighborhood and need a good place to eat.”<br /><br />She named a couple of joints I had passed on the street. I saw the tables from outside the windows. The bread baskets looked like car wrecks with shards of something sticking into the air. “Yeah, that’s the kind of place my friend likes," I said. "But I was hoping for something with a little more body and soul, you know what I mean?”<br /><br />Tokyo did know what I meant. Saw it in her eyes. Sharp, man.<br /><br />I couldn’t stop myself. I said, “I don’t do yoga.”<br /><br />Got a laugh out of her. Unguarded and low. The kind of laugh she gives her friends, smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding her rum and coke with the other. It wasn’t a laugh for the customers. Trey wins.<br /><br />She gave me the name of a place nearby and I thanked her. If I wasn’t staying at Mrs. Nerd’s place and wasn’t hoping to squeeze the Nerd or Rodeo for a couple hundred-thousand dollars and if Sig and his shitbags weren’t looking to kill me I would’ve offered to take Tokyo to that place that night. Instead I’m a wanted man and my plans could get me dead. So I thanked her. I held her eyes longer than I needed to. Drink it up. Then she frosted over and I saw that a real customer came in the front door. Tokyo’s armor. The girl protects herself. I respect that. I gave her a wink and headed out into the bright sunlight.<br /><br />There, I proved it. A little cleaned up, Trey has a shot with Tokyo. More than a shot. That’s all I needed to know. It could happen. But it never will.<br /><br />Back at the nice library. Cool, clean Santa Monica. Feeling like my wallet’s stuffed with money, even though its full of mummy dust. Soon. There’ll be money. Mrs. Nerd will talk tonight. I’ll get the information she wants to leak. Trey will get what he wants.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-70207863173413457432009-05-22T07:49:00.000-07:002009-05-22T08:09:21.387-07:00CLEANED UP<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Nothing like spending someone else’s money. Even when it’s money he doesn’t have. Mrs. Nerd didn’t care. As time passed and there was no call, no contact from the Nerd, Mrs. Nerd took on a thick candy-coated shell. She wasn’t pissed, she smiled the whole time. We went shopping.<br /><br />Sears. That’s what suits me. She thought about some better places, but I’m no douche. Give me clothes that’ll last years and I’m happy. The Nerd’s credit cards paid for a coupl</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">e pairs of Levis, t-shirts, socks, underwear and a sweet Carhartt jacket. A backpa</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">ck to put it all in and a new pair of shoes. It was like back to school shopping.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Except I don’t think back to school gear is for sleeping outside, hiding a dagger and maybe fighting my way out of Los Angeles. And if I had a mom to shop with, she wouldn’t have been checking out my ass in the jeans the way Mrs. Nerd did.<br /><br />She kept laughing. Talked about how she was going from North of Montana Ave. to the northern border of Montana state. Mr. Nerd stretched himself too thin. Investments, real estate, loans to friends. Then the economy splashed into the toilet and he went with it. Stock market, bad banks, that crap never mattered to my dad and me. Everyone always wants their weed. But Mr. and Mrs. Nerd, they’ve got nothing left but the credit cards. Guess that’s why he didn’t cancel them when I swiped his wallet. He’s clutching to everything he can. She’s smiling until the luck runs out. Could be soon.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Mrs. Nerd didn’t know anything about the deal or the drop. There’s a lot he doesn’t tell her and she doesn’t want to know. I’m not telling her either. I only probed a little and could tell that she was done with his bullshit plans and fuckups. Seems the lady </span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">only cared that he brought in a paycheck and kept her high-price life afloat. Now that he’s missing, it’s like she’s dancing on air as she walks the plank.<br /><br />I got some new clothes out of it, a couple of good meals. I’m at her computer writing this. I palmed a little digital camera I found in a drawer. The Nerd still hasn’t ca</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxSCOOHll38jtp7aMZksTTegvzwKKwdLOnIM-ZVzMq_nFWDhP9KsQWV-KwGzK1zZZPGqc3wHZucnkzORWq6LTyrqIa4x9FAkVM_BYHBGWd2GDSPY-kZRJ0wgTnKs7shCYZ-ES7dSbEaY/s1600-h/Drive.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQxSCOOHll38jtp7aMZksTTegvzwKKwdLOnIM-ZVzMq_nFWDhP9KsQWV-KwGzK1zZZPGqc3wHZucnkzORWq6LTyrqIa4x9FAkVM_BYHBGWd2GDSPY-kZRJ0wgTnKs7shCYZ-ES7dSbEaY/s200/Drive.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338665004817781746" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">lled. I know what you’re thinking. Trey’s getting soft. The good life is going to get hi</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">m killed. But I ain’t stupid. My bag is always packed. I leave my shoes on inside the house. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">This ain’t the good life. This house is burning down all around me. Sig and his North River fucks are out there. I’m buying time. Soon as the Nerd surfaces and I make my deal, Trey is moving on. But when Mrs. Nerd opened the good wine and we got take-out Indian food and she got that hungry look at a fine piece of man like Trey, even a bed as comfortable as hers didn’t keep Trey through the night. Sorry, Sarah, her bed’s more comfortable than yours – probably cost more than a car. But after the action, I take the couch, jeans on and dragon slaying dagger at my side.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxwRA5wnrQg-zYqLygfSnOpciLB3ln-bh7JBULtP3scovTv6ITg86P5ww5hUGmrN_HPNpP1fuEnLydAFdCQ3LAJu0y1mrGb66swsvWsJubVy5xX95J-o9rySKDv1-UqsBxkELEZ56Nbjk/s1600-h/Dagger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxwRA5wnrQg-zYqLygfSnOpciLB3ln-bh7JBULtP3scovTv6ITg86P5ww5hUGmrN_HPNpP1fuEnLydAFdCQ3LAJu0y1mrGb66swsvWsJubVy5xX95J-o9rySKDv1-UqsBxkELEZ56Nbjk/s200/Dagger.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338665377760306130" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br />And this ain’t no sex blog – so you make up the details, perv. I will say that Mrs. Nerd is a live one.<br /><br />But when she’s alone, when her bedroom door is closed, I can hear her crying. That’s what she’s doing now. That gives me time. Time to catch you up. And I can finally plug the flash drive in. I almost looked in it a couple of days ago, but Mrs. Nerd came dancing through the room and insisted on getting me some new clothes and who am I to say no. I’m checking the flash drive now. Let’s see if it crashes the computer.<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />I thought it might be some blueprints. A tank or helicopter or top secret supersuit. What could be so important to drop in the bushes for Rodeo? It had to be good if the Nerd was willing to stick me with his middle-earth dragonslayer. How about the floor plan for the Vatican? Religious conspiracy that proves that Jesus was an alien with a laser powered cock?<br />I’m pissed. Fucking pissed. The Nerd wanted my blood for a goddamn list. Looks like the white pages. Hundreds of pages of names. Addresses and phone numbers and other numbers.<br />There it is. Social Security numbers.<br /><br />That’s the business. Each listing it a complete person, ripe for the picking. Rodeo’s gotta be paying big for this. He’ll be paying more now that Trey is holding the goods. Fuck the Nerd. I’m cutting out the middle man. I need Rodeo.<br /><br />You know anything about computers? I just yanked the flash drive without doing the eject thing. Will that fuck it up? Mrs. Nerd opened her bedroom door. Floorboards in the upstairs hallway creak. I got the drive out and closed the computer window before she saw it. Hope I didn’t lose what’s on the drive. Hell, even if it’s blank, I’ll get Rodeo to pay for it.<br />Right now, Trey has to pay for his room and board. Mrs. Nerd has that hungry look again. No candy, though. Angry. It’s going to be rough.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-57022387406581560862009-05-19T08:32:00.000-07:002009-05-19T08:42:45.510-07:00IN THE DOOR<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Sig isn’t reading this. That inbred motherfucker can’t read. But he can sniff. He’s been circling around this town like a shark in that Valiant. <br /><br />Someone tipped him. Don’t know who, but I have ideas. Sons of bitches. If Sig finds me, it won’t be some lame stab with a Hobbit dagger. He’s all business and I’ve seen him handle a 9mm. <br /><br />And he’s fucking up my plans with the Nerd. I figured on hanging at the park where the drop went down in the first place. The Nerd would show up eventually, tail between his legs and finally want to make a deal. Every time I camped out, though, I heard the rumbling of the Valiant. <br /><br />In Ballentine, that sound brings out the high school boys like the ice cream truck. Sig was rolling with the bud. He’s selling the good stuff and everyone was buying. I never liked hearing his Plymouth. We had tangled a few times, over a girl or a motorcycle we each wanted. He won every time. It wasn’t enough for him. Seemed like he’d never be happy until I was out of town. Maybe I’m too sexy. No doubt. <br /><br />Finally I’m out of town and he comes chasing. Circumstances changed. It isn’t about who’s taking Shelly to the lake anymore. It’s about payback. We both have a score to settle. <br />I’m in no shape for a showdown with Sig. He’s rolling heavy and I have a stupid-ass medieval dagger. Not much of a fight. But I can’t run. Still looking for my payoff. So I bounce from spot to spot, always hearing the Valiant like the thunder of a coming storm. Two parks are off-limits. The lumber yard where I sometimes get work is too exposed. <br /><br />You’re telling me to get out of town or hide in one spot until he leaves. You don’t know Sig. After what happened in Ballentine, he’s not going to leave until he has my scalp. Or I put him under. <br /><br />That means I can’t wait for the Nerd to come to me. I have to flush him out. When you hit a man, hit him where it hurts. Mrs. Nerd. <br /><br />“I told you I have a gardener.”<br /><br />He hadn’t called. She was thin and ready to snap. <br /><br />“This isn’t about the trees.”<br /><br />“I’ll call the police and we have neighborhood watch and someone’s already seen you.”<br /><br />“You’re not going to call the cops,” I gambled. “Because you don’t know what kind of trouble he’s in and you don’t want to make it worse.”<br /><br />Her eyes turned into slits, like she wanted to saw me in half like a tree and count my rings. I held up the Nerd’s driver’s license. Then her eyes got wide.<br /><br />I started slow, so she’d listen. “He’s into some heavy shit and there are a lot of people looking for him. I’m one of them. But what I want is quick and simple. If he deals with me, the machine kicks into gear and everything runs smoothly again.”<br /><br />I knew I had her when she looked over my shoulder, checking to see if anyone was on the street and saw us. They weren’t. So much for bullshit neighborhood watch. <br /><br />Mrs. Nerd moved aside and let me into her house. <br /><br />The door closed and she was all questions. Where is he? What is he wrapped up in? How did I get involved and how long will this last? I kept her in the dark, said it was for her own safety. But I did tell her I was the one who put the bruise on the Nerd’s face. She took a step back and finally looked at me, dirty and hungry (but still good looking) in her fancy living room. <br /><br />She was worried again, like I had lied my way into her house and now I was going to kill her or worse. Trey has plenty of experience with the ladies, but I never had to put on my smile and tell one how it was a good thing that I punched her husband in the face. <br /><br />“I had some trouble in Washington state,” I started. “Some bad guys forced me out of town. So I’m down here and trying to scrape up work, but it’s a tough town. Couldn’t even find a friend or get enough money for a roof over my head. I was sleeping in a park. And that’s when I saw the drop. Small black plastic bag in the bushes. My father was in the army, fought in Vietnam. I’m an American and the idea that someone was spying on our land was too much to take. I grabbed the bag, thought about giving it to the cops or the Feds. Then I saw the guy that came for the drop. Badass. Probably has the cops on the take, so Trey has to lay low. Then I see your husband, looking for the bag because the Badass probably told him there was no drop and that means no money.<br /><br />“Your husband looks like a decent guy and I figure he’s in over his head.” That got a knowing shake of the head from Mrs. Nerd. He must always be over his head and she’s the one that has to do the laundry. Didn’t seem like she had a job or wanted one. Never knew a woman who could afford to not work. I guess maintaining her image in this rich part of town took up all her time. With a screw up like the Nerd, messing where he shouldn’t be, keeping up appearances would be a full time job. We were simpatico, both on common ground with the Nerd. I had her hooked and reeled her in, “Maybe I could help him. I followed him to his work and got in touch. We meet and I tell him how I can be an ally in all of this. He’s a soft dude and I’m hard from rough living. We could make a good team and get what we want from the buyer and make a good deal from everyone. And secretly, I’m thinking about a way for your husband and me making money, then turning the bad guys over to the cops. Everyone wins. Except the spies that are fucking up our country.<br /><br />“But your husband got other ideas. In our second meeting, he comes at me with a silver dagger.” Mrs. Nerd blinked here and I knew that she had seen that knife before and wondered what the hell her husband was doing with it. I was rolling and had to finish the story. “I wasn’t going to let him kill me. I fought back, landed a right into his face and he ran. He left his wallet behind, that’s how I found you. And if I can find him, we can wrap all of this up. I understand why he got scared, but I really want to make this work out best for everyone.” <br /><br />Her eyes went narrow again. She digested. And what do you think she did? Call the cops? Pull out a .357 and put a hole in me?<br /><br />To answer your questions, let me just say that Trey is freshly showered, free-balling it in the Nerd’s sweats while my clothes are in the wash. I’m writing this on Mrs. Nerd’s laptop computer and she’s fixing me a sandwich. I’m about to plug in the flash drive from the black bag. <br /><br />The dagger is on the desk, just in case.<br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-17154049833214544702009-05-15T07:55:00.000-07:002009-05-15T08:02:33.183-07:00WOMEN<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">This library is a dump. The last one was nice. Small. Like being back in Ballentine. I found it after leaving Mrs. Nerd alone, so I could figure out my next move. No sense in pushing her, making her scared. She might call the cops, and that means that you don’t get to hear from Trey anymore. I said my polite goodbye to Mrs. Nerd and had no idea what to do next.<br /><br />I found the nice library and caught you up. Sometimes, writing this down helps me figure out how to turn this whole mess my way. It’s like swimming and pushing a battleship sideways.<br /><br />At the library near Mrs. Nerd, everyone was all smiles and the kids section had the small tables and short shelves and someone was reading to a group of teeny people. This fucking library is like a bomb shelter after they drop the bomb. This ain’t Santa Monica. The bums here stink worse than me. Crazy dudes. We’re close to the VA. <br /><br />My dad went to the VA in Spokane a few times for checkups. All the rubbing alcohol and Lysol couldn’t sanitize that place. Just breathing made you want to go crazy. Never got to my dad, though. He was tougher than that.<br /><br />I had to get out of Santa Monica to find this library. Can’t cycle through the same locations anymore. Things have changed. <br /><br />I told you I was trying to figure out my next move. It found me. <br /><br />How do you always fuck up? If you’re a guy, you know the answer. If a girl is reading this, I’ll tell you how you always fuck up. Women. <br /><br />Tokyo. <br /><br />I think she’s Japanese. I’ll call her Tokyo. Don’t know her name. Her hair is so black. Shiny like she’s enameled. Or like she’s a black widow spider. Could’ve killed me.<br /><br />On the way back from the nice library, after I saw Mrs. Nerd, I needed something to eat but knew no place in this neighborhood would serve me. Had my head down, thinking. Needing the next step. Gotta find the Nerd. Sell him the black bag and I’m out of here. So how do I find him? You have any ideas? Can’t sit outside Mrs. Nerd’s place and wait for her to get the call. Not with those expensive houses on the street and private security crawling around. Maybe I just wait for the Nerd to get back in touch with me. I have what he wants. Rodeo wants it, too. They both might pay for it.<br /><br />But why doesn’t the Nerd just make another thumb drive. It’s computer stuff, you can just copy more, can’t you? You’re reading this on a computer, must know more about them than me. Can’t he just copy a new one? But if he could do that, he wouldn’t have tried to skewer me on the dagger. Fucker. Should’ve kicked him when he was on the ground. <br /><br />All this shit’s running through my head with no answers. I’m thinking about what to write you next, how to tell you I’m stuck but not giving up. You’re my only friend. And you had better be on my side. <br /><br />Hardly looking at the traffic, I cross a street. Stroller bitches are sucking on smoothies and dudes with big watches are checking out their asses. I don’t care about those screws. My problems are bigger.<br /><br />And getting bigger all the time.<br /><br />I’m outside in the sun and something in one of the clothing stores catches my eye. You know it by now, Trey notices things. Tokyo was wearing a pink sweater and black pants. She walked through this clothing boutique and looked like a deadly butterfly in the window. That black hair in a pony tail. She’s shorter than me, but has strong shoulders. Like she can handle herself. Tokyo could handle some Trey in her life. <br /><br />There was a look on her face, above it all and sharp eyes like she could cut anything apart in front of her. But she wasn’t one of the rich women from this neighborhood. Mrs. Nerd was one of them, exercise at the gym every day and read the paper and meet for lunch. Tokyo works for a living. <br /><br />She moved through the store, putting clothes away on racks. A tall blonde and her taller friend came in to shop and Tokyo helped them with a smile that looked real to everyone but me. I get her. She doesn’t know it. Yet. Or maybe never. Wish it could be that way.<br />You see, everything’s changed. The next move found me. <br /><br />I heard him before I saw him. Fucked-up Plymouth Valiant chugged like a steam train. Took me a second to remember it, but I snapped to quick and ducked around the corner. I almost didn’t make it. Tokyo almost did me in. I was staring at her so long, like I was hypnotized. Or trapped in her web. Easy prey for the Valiant. You reading this Tokyo? You didn’t even see me looking at you, but you almost got me killed, just because you’re sexy. But Trey was on top of it this time. I didn’t get killed. He didn’t see me. This time. But I saw him. <br /><br />Sig. Riding shotgun. One more dude in the back seat. All the way from Ballentine, Washington. <br /><br />How the fuck did he find me? Did you tell him? Or are you reading this, Sig?<br /><br />If you’re reading this, Sig, fuck you. <br /><br /></span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286193255349507366.post-2978221998690279242009-05-12T08:25:00.000-07:002009-05-12T08:33:24.908-07:00GOLDEN DELICIOUS<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: times new roman;">$43. <br /><br />That’s it. No wonder the fucker is willing to deal with crooks. The Nerd is broke. Not as broke as me, but for a guy in a suit, who works in a building with security and lives in fancy Santa Monica, $43 is bullshit. That’s all the cash he had in his wallet. He must be one of those dumbasses who lives on credit and lets the bank run their lives. No bank for Trey. Me and my dad were our own bank. Green cash or green bud. No credit or loans or promises. It was all real. I left Ballentine in a hurry, didn’t have time to grab any of our stashed cash.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">And the Nerd’s not bankrolling me. Not yet. He’ll pay. Now he knows I’m a mean business motherfucker. My price went up. Two hundred thousand. As soon as I can get in touch with him. He didn’t show up at his work this morning. I watched. Couldn’t sleep and paced around his building all night. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">That dagger sure feels useful in your hand. Straight blade, good handle for killing goblins and saving maidens. Those dorks did something right. Makes you want to start sticking people. I should stick the Nerd after he pays me. He wanted my blood. He can learn what it’s like. When he ran, he dropped the sheath, so I’ve stashed the blade before I draw any blood. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Thought about using his credit cards for a hot meal or to buy one of those beach houses below the bluffs. But Trey isn’t stupid. No footprints. The credit cards went into the trash with his wallet. I kept the cash and his driver’s license. It has his address. He might be home.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">You’re probably thinking I should take the $43 and get the hell out of town. That’s what you would do, let it go and move on. But you’re not me. Homeless and on the run. It’s like there was an earthquake in Ballentine and the ground crumbled and ate everything I had. I got nothing. So you say, “You got nothing, then it can’t be worse somewhere else. At least there won’t be any spies and nerds with daggers who want you dead. Nothing to lose.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Then I say, looking you straight in the eye with my hard look, “I got nothing but my name. Passed down from my father. He crawled through tunnels in Nam to bring that name to me. My mother didn’t want the name and blew out of town one morning after dropping me off at kindergarten. Fuck her. She never got to know how cool I am. I’m so cool that I keep my word. And if anyone fucks with a friend of mine, they make an enemy of me. And if anyone fucks with me, they’ve got trouble.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Nerd has it coming. He’s going to pay good money when I find him. He’s going to pay. </span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Nerd ain’t going to be easy to find. Punch to the face scared him good. After haunting his office building, I slid north to the nice neighborhoods. Some of the streets have numbers and the others have names. Trey is sharp. I’d seen the names from some of the parks where I sleep. One park is on the bluffs over the ocean. The Nerd’s street ran right into that park. </span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Never ventured into these neighborhoods. Don’t think they take to homeless dudes, even ones as good looking as me. Tall eucalyptus trees. Green lawns must take a thousand gallons of water a day. Up in Washington, you get a lawn whether you want it or not. Here, everyone works for them. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I stayed low key, no trouble and didn’t see any cops. Saw a lot of big houses. Expensive cars. But no one walking on the street. Just me. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Golden Delicious. When I saw the Nerd’s house, I almost cried like a girl. Golden Delicious. Two trees, one on each side of the front door. Some asshole didn’t know how to prune them and they were dancing like ornamentals, but the trunks were strong enough to support fruit. You know anything about fruit trees? If you did, you would’ve cried, too. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">When I get my place in Oregon or Canada, I’ll have fruit trees. Apples and pears and if the soil and air is right, I’ll plant vineyards and make my own wine. You’ll drink my wine and no one will know the money came from the drop I intercepted and no one will know what happened in Ballentine. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Dagger sheath is thick leather. It was inside my waistband and down my left leg. Just the handle of the knife was sticking out, under my shirt, and I could pull it fast if I needed. I knocked on the Nerd’s door and waited. If he tried to off me at the meet with a dagger, I didn’t think he’d answer the door with a gat.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">The Nerd didn’t answer the door. Mrs. Nerd answered the door. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">A lot of the housewives in Washington still look like homesteaders. Clothes are a little old, got some wrinkles on their faces and are tired all the time. Mrs. Nerd wasn’t young, but she wasn’t cracked from hard living either. Didn’t have kids, didn’t look ground down enough. This woman was fit and probably had a personal trainer every day. Tight body and the mean eyes of the rich. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">She was tired, though. I could see in her face. Something had been wearing on her for a couple of days. The Nerd, no doubt. She couldn’t know everything he was up to, though. If she did, no way would she open the door. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">Mrs. Nerd looked me up and down quick and got ready to scream or call the cops or try out some of her yoga fighting moves on me. Thought about tangling with her, thought it might be fun. But Trey can be a gentleman.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.” I even said “ma’am” like some fucking kid selling Christmas cards. “I’m an arborist and I noticed the apple trees in your front yard could use some maintenance.” <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">“I have a gardener.” She said it like it was all I needed to know and would I please burst into flames now and leave her to her problems.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: times new roman;">I’m part of her problems. “Golden Delicious. Those are Golden Delicious trees and your gardener doesn’t know what to do with them. If you hired me, I could guarantee you a great crop this year.” All through the talking, I’m looking past her into the house. Nice place, lots of space and furniture. She had her cell phone and landline on the coffee table in front of the couch. She was waiting for a call. <br /><br />The Nerd wasn’t there. </span></span>Nico Rossohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06921053471174740552noreply@blogger.com