Charlie Huston - Six Bad Things

– Rolf, I have no clue.

He picks up a book from T’s coffee table.

– You ever read this, dude?

It’s Sid’s copy of The Man Who Got Away. I nod.

– Skimmed it.

– Yeah, well, let me read you my favorite part.

He flips to a dog-eared page near the end.

– And what was it all about? The blood and the killing? The murder of innocents? The chaos that reigned in Gotham for two days as Henry Thompson rampaged through the streets? With no survivors or witnesses left to tell the tale, we can only surmise. But were there no witnesses? What of the bodies of Edward and Paris DuRante, later identified as the duo behind a string of daring Midwest bank robberies? What of the investigations into Lieutenant Detective Roman’s dealings in the underworld and the revelations of his ties to organized crime? What of the scale of the carnage in Paul’s Bar? What might inspire such bloodshed? And, finally, what of Thompson’s utter and complete disappearance? What could facilitate such an escape? All these mute witnesses point to one thing: money. A great deal of money. Rumors on the street suggest that the long hours of fear that clutched The City That Never Sleeps were the product of the powerful lust for profit that rules the small minds of brutal men. The ill-gotten gains of the DuRante’s, estimated by some to be well over ten million dollars, were no doubt the treasure sought by the darker figures of this tale. Their error was to have swept Thompson into the storm of their greed, never knowing the beast that lurked inside his secret heart.

He holds the book out to me. I take it from him, look at the page, close it, and hand it back.

– It’s only about four million really.

Rolf jumps to his feet.

– Four million! Dude. OK! OK, we need to get organized. That guy you were with, Elvis? When’s he comin’ back?

– He said a few hours.

– Cool. So no hurry.

He looks at Sid, who’s still motionless on the couch.

– Sid, did you hear that? Four mil?

Sid shrugs, keeps his mouth shut, his eyes on the TV screen. Rolf waves a hand like he’s done with him and kneels next to me.

– Now, dude, all fucking around aside, where is the money?

What was my life like before the money? Was it a good life? Was it interesting? Did I live it well? Was I useful to other people? Was I happy? I don’t really remember anymore because I’ve heard the question Rolf is asking far too many times.

– I don’t have it, man.

– Look, dude, I understand. Four mil is a lot of money. I get it how you don’t want to let on and all. And look, I’m not, we had a deal for 200 K and you broke it. So yeah, I want more, but I’m not greedy. I’m not some asshole who wants to clear you out. I want half. So it’s like this simple question of How valuable is your life? Almost anybody would kill for two mil. And almost anybody would pay two mil to keep from getting killed. So tell me where the money is and you get two, and I get two, and everybody goes their own way. Flipside is, dude, no one gets nothing and we kill you.

Sid points at the TV.

– It’s on again.

Rolf looks at the screen

– Shit!

I catch a quick glimpse of nighttime video footage. A bunch of SWAT guys surrounding a vehicle pinned in the spotlight of a hovering chopper. Rolf switches the set off.

I look at him and smile.

– Man, that looked just like Sid’s Westphalia. You guys really need that money now, don’t you?

– Shut up.

– You may have wanted it before, but, man, you need it now. Have they shown Sid’s driver’s license photo yet?

– Shut up, dude.

– ’Cause that’ll be next. They’ll find out who that thing is registered to, and his photo will be all over the place. After that? They start looking into his known associates. Did anybody see you when you hooked up in San Diego? Any of your old buds?

– Shut the fuck up, dude!

– Or what? Look at me, I’m a fucking mess. Go ahead, beat on me some more.

He clenches his fists and shakes them.

– Just tell me where the money is, dude.

– Duuuude, I told you, I don’t know where the money is.

He talks between gritted teeth.

– Tell. Me. Where. The. Money. Is.

– In. My. Ass.

He puts his hands on my neck, holds them there, shaking. Sid is leaning forward on the couch, watching closely. I could die here. This is another time that I could die. But I don’t. Rolf takes his hand away, walks to the couch, and kicks it five times, then sits down.

– Dude, just tell me where.

– Rolf. I don’t know.

I get myself off the floor.

– But someone else does.

I tell them the truth. Sort of. I tell them about Timmy and how I have a great lead on him. I tell them all I have to do is wait for a call that will tell me where he is, and then we can go get the money.

I don’t tell them about Dylan. If they find out about him, they’ll know there is no way in hell I will ever let them near the money that can save my parents’ lives.

And the story I tell them gives me time. Time for all of us to sit on the couch and watch TV and wait for a call that may never come, while I try to figure how to get them out of here before T comes home and chaos ensues.

My phone rings.

– WHO IS it, dude?

– I don’t know.

– Well, is it your connection or whatever?

– I don’t know.

Rolf grabs the phone and looks at the screen.

– Where’s your caller ID?

I take the phone back.

– I don’t think it has that.

– You bought a phone and didn’t get caller ID? Dude, ID is key.

The phone rings for the fifth time. What if it’s Dylan? I don’t want to talk to Dylan in front of these guys. It rings again.

– Well, answer it, dude.

I hit the green button.

– Hello?

– Wade?

My stomach lurches. Then I get it.

– Hey, Sandy, what happened to the party?

– Party? Oh, yeah, baby, we got it goin’ on. But. Hey, hey, baby, good news. I, we came back to my place, and there was a message from my boss, Terry.

– Yeah?

– He says he knows something.

– Yeah?

– Yeah.

– OK, well?

– Well, yeah, but, baby, he wants some money and says he won’t. You know?

– Wait. Does he know where Tim? Hey, is T there, can I talk to?

– He’s indisposed, baby, in the john. But my guy.

– Right, your guy. How much?

– Just five. He said a grand, but I told him you were nice so I got him to go five.

– Thanks.

– Sure. So, he says the money, he wants to get the money and then he’ll tell you.

– He knows where Tim is?

– I think. He said he has some info on him, so I think so, yeah.

– So when?

– Um, he’s gonna come over in like an hour? Is that? Over here? Can you?

– Yeah, I’m just not sure how I’m.

That’s when I hear a noise in the background. A noise I now realize has been there through this whole call.

– Uh, you know, Sandy, I don’t have a car or.

– Well.

– So it’ll take me awhile and I’m still pretty fucked-up, so later would be good.

– Well, he’s really.

– So have T call and tell me what time.

I hang up. She’ll get me a later meet. But it won’t be T who calls. I’m sure of these things because of the way I could hear Hitler barking in the background. Hitler, who never makes a noise except for a fart, barking mad and angry through the whole call.

T’s in trouble.

And I’m being set up.

I look at Rolf and Sid, waiting for me to tell them what the deal is. And I realize that being set up may be just what I need right now.

SID STILL hasn’t said a word to me. He sits as far from me as possible, his arms and legs crossed. I sit on the couch between the two of them and Rolf tells me what they’ve been up to.