Jason Starr - Twisted City

Kenny laughed again, then said, "Charlotte tell you about my will?"

I didn't bother answering.

"I made up a will," he went on. "I paid a lawyer to do it, so it's real official and everything. When I die an envelope gets opened. I wrote out the whole thing how I saw you kill Ricky, how you said you'd kill me if I went to the cops. I got copies of the pictures in there too, with your name and everything. So you see how you can't win, Davey boy. You better hope I live a long life, because when I die you go to jail. Until then, you gotta do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. I don't know if you knew this, but there's no statute of limitations on murder. I could die thirty years from now and they'd still put you away."

I looked at Kenny deadpan for several seconds, then said, "I don't have any money." I let this sink in, then added, "I gave everything I had to Charlotte that night, and I don't know what happened to it, if she spent it on drugs or whatever, but I don't have any more. That's the God's honest truth."

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, you fuckin' dick. I don't think you understand what's going on here. I'm the one calling the shots, not you. You think I don't know you're full of shit? I know more than you think I know, and don't you worry, I'm gonna make you pay for what you did. Charlotte was a nice little whore and I'll miss her, but Ricky was my homeboy. We dropped out of high school together I knew him twenty years and loved him like a brother. You took my brother away from me, you scumbag, and I'm gonna make you pay for it."

"It was an accident," I said. "He was coming after me»

"I did some research," Kenny went on, ignoring me. "I called here the other day, and my friend the receptionist told me you're the associate editor just got promoted. Congratulations, by the way. So then I went to the library you know, the big one on Fortieth and they got this book there. You look up somebody's job; they tell you how much they make.

The book says an associate editor takes in thirty-five to seventy-five a year. So I figure you're probably making fifty a year now, give or take. After Uncle Sam, you probably take home about two grand a month.

I don't want you to go broke that won't help me any. What I'm gonna do is take half. I figure if I leave you with a thousand a month you'll be able to pay your bills, buy some food, and I'll get the rest."

"My rent's sixteen-fifty a month," I said.

"That's your problem, not mine," Kenny said. "If you can't get by, you'll have to get a night job, scrub floors or some shit. But you'll get by somehow, and as long as you get by, I get by. See how this is gonna work?"

"What if I lose my job?" I said.

"I guess you'll have to find another one. But first just to get us started I want that twenty grand."

"I don't have twenty grand."

"Get it."

"I can't get it. I have nowhere to get it from."

"You must got retirement money, a 401 (k) or some shit like that."

Last time I checked, I had about fifty thousand dollars in my 401(k), and I also had a Roth IRA with about fifteen grand.

"Sorry," I said. "I got wiped out when the market crashed."

"You must got something in it."

"Maybe a couple grand."

"Take it out and give it to me."

"I can't. There're forms to fill out paperwork. It could take a few days to get the money, and I'll have penalties and»

"Look, I don't wanna hear any more of your bullshit," Kenny said. "I want at least two grand tonight. If you don't bring it, I'm gonna go to the cops. You think I'm fucking around?"

Kenny stood up. I couldn't tell if his gut was bigger than I'd remembered or if he just had bad posture.

"Tonight," he said, "ten o'clock Tompkins Square Park."

"I can't tonight," I said.

"Yes, you can," he said. "You know, it's kind of 4 don't know the word funny. Not funny, but you know what I mean. That's where Charlotte said you were gonna dump Ricky's body and now that's where you're gonna be making your payoffs. Hopefully every time you go there it'll remind you what you did, you piece of shit. The last Friday of every month you're gonna be there with my thousand bucks, but tonight it's gonna be two grand or I'm going to the cops. Ironical. That's the word I was looking for. It's ironical."

Kenny explained which bench in the park he'd be waiting on, and then he left my office, leaving his odor of Old Spice and BO behind. Gradually it set in that my life was ruined.

I didn't move for a while, and then I called Angie at home and left a message on her machine, canceling our date tonight. I told her that there had been an emergency with my aunt and I had to go to Long Island for the weekend. I didn't know how I'd come up with Kenny's payments.

With the rest of the money Aunt Helen had lent me and the paycheck that had been direct-deposited into my bank account this morning, I could scrape up the money for the first two grand. After that, unless I drained my retirement accounts, I was in trouble. I'd have to live on Kraft macaroni and cheese and Ramen noodles, and I'd probably have to work nights and weekends.

Since I didn't have to meet Kenny until ten and I had no reason to go home, I stayed late at work. When Jeff left for the day, at around six-thirty, he poked his head into my office and said, "I love your work ethic, David. You're showing true commitment to this job. See ya tomorrow."

A couple of people in Production stayed until around seven, and then I had the office to myself; the only sounds were the hum of the air-conditioning system and an occasional horn or siren from Broadway.

I didn't feel like sitting around doing nothing, so I wrote a final draft of my article on Prime Net Solutions. Earlier in the article I'd mentioned how Prime Net had been the major sponsor of a sailing competition, so, continuing with the metaphor, I wrote:

Prime Net has weathered a great storm, and if the company stays on its current course, and market winds remain steady, the future for this DSL firm will be full of blue skies and clear sailing.

When I finished the article, I did some editing, then left my office at about nine-fifteen.

The businessmen who cluttered the midtown streets during the day had been replaced by tourists and teenagers. I went to an ATM, withdrew the rest of the money I needed from my bank account and by taking a cash advance on my Discover card, and then I took the subway downtown.

I arrived at the Avenue A entrance to Tompkins Square Park at five to ten. The park at night didn't seem nearly as spruced up as it did during the day. As I headed along the path toward the middle of the park, I passed groups of seedy-looking guys, obviously drug dealers, huddled around trees or benches. One skinny black guy rushed up to me, walking alongside me, and asked if I was buying. I shrugged him off without saying anything and continued straight ahead.

I passed the circular, courtyard-like area in the middle of the park, and kept going. On the bench where Kenny had said I should meet him, a big, bearded homeless guy was sprawled out with an old baby carriage filled with bottles, cans, and other junk parked in front of him. The guy's head was hanging to the side and his eyes were half-open; he looked dead, but he was probably just sleeping. I sat on the opposite end of the bench and checked the time on my cell phone two minutes to ten.

Two minutes later, Kenny arrived. He was walking along the path, coming from the direction of the Avenue B entrance. I waited until he reached me before I stood up.

"On time, I like that," he said. "This is how I want it to go every time, you get my drift? None of that waiting-around-for-you-to-show-up bullshit."

I'd been planning to give him the money and leave without doing or saying anything, but I hesitated, asking myself if I really wanted to give in to this scumbag. Maybe he was lying about having a will and other pictures put away. Maybe there was another way out.