Edward Lee - Mangled Meat

Flood’s mouth locked open.

It was Carol.

She sauntered by, jingling keys in her hand.

When she was gone, the men talked further.

Oscar: “She ain’t on to us.”

“Yeah, the bitch is so arrogant, thinks she can get over on anyone.”

“Never even knew her real name was Ann. Guess that’s what she goes by when she’s working behind my back for Phipps. Ain’t that some shit?”

“Yeah, well. She’s got a new name now: dead meat.”

“Let’s have a drink in the bar, then go up.”

“Fine by me. Man, I can’t wait to punch this bitch’s ticket…”

Still as a stone, Flood remained in the booth. Leon and Oscar walked out of the cove.

They’re going to do it, Flood’s thoughts grated like ratchets. They’re going to be killing Carol in a few minutes…

The phone felt melted in his hand. The numbers on the buttons blurred in his vision, and as his shaking index finger trembled forward, a sound like distant turbine filled his head.

Wait a minute…

Flood never dialed. He got a better idea instead. He left the phone hanging and walked out of the booth. A spit-and-polish concierge smiled stiffly when Flood approached. “How may I be of service, sir?”

“Where’s the nearest Bank of America? I’ve got an emergency.”

The concierge pointed toward the front. “There’s one right across the street…”

Flood stared at the metal numbers: 415.

He gulped once, then knocked.

The low voices inside ceased when his knuckles rapped against the door. Leon’s probably looking through the peephole right now, Flood deduced with a scared smile. He didn’t give a shit anymore. He knocked again, then held his cell phone up before the peephole. “Open up or I’m calling the cops…”

The door to Room 415 clicked, then yawned open.

Flood wasn’t surprised when he stepped in and found Oscar’s pistol to his head. “Easy, pal. I’ve got business to discuss. And don’t shit a brick. I know you’re about to kill the girl.”

Oscar glared in silent rage, his bald pate nearly quivering. He shoved Flood into the main room where Leon stood.

“He says he knows about Carol,” Oscar said. “What the fuck’s going on?”

Leon gaped at Flood. “You…”

Flood surrendered his cell phone to Oscar, then nodded to Leon. “You remember me. From the elevator?”

“Jack… Flood?”

“Makes sense you’d remember faces and names, you being a pimp and all—”

Leon was aghast. “Oscar, who is this guy? Why is he here?”

“I’m here to talk business,” Flood began, smiling in spite of an effusion of sweat. “Of course, you guys can kill me right now, and no one would know.”

“Oh, we can kill you, all right,” Oscar began.

“Right, and you’d be stupid, which is par for the course so far.” Flood noticed a closed door behind them. That’s the bedroom… “First of all, you guys talk way too loud. I overheard several of your conversations in the phone cove downstairs.” He pointed to the closed door. “And there’s a couple-inch gap between those pink curtains in there. You both are about as sharp as Oscar’s head.”

Leon and Oscar remained stiff where they stood.

“I saw you beat up Jinny two nights ago,” Flood finished. “And I saw what you did to Therese last night. You guys really take the cake for sick motherfuckers.”

Leon’s eyes bloomed toward Oscar. “I don’t believe this shit, Oscar. What are we gonna do with this guy?”

“I got a couple ideas,” Oscar said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Flood chuckled. It was beyond him how he could be keeping his cool amid these killers. “Look, I know you got Carol in the bedroom—er, I guess her real name’s Ann. I’d like to see her. What’s the big deal? You guys got a gun on me. Let’s go in there and talk business.”

Leon’s face remained stamped with disbelief. He nodded to Oscar, then they escorted Flood into the room.

Carol lay stretched naked over a shower curtain covering the bed, her ankles and wrists tied to the posts. Her eyes bugged above her gag. God, she’s beautiful, Flood thought. The rotund, perfect implants quivered, her flat stomach sucking in and out in terror. Flood quailed when he noted the sand-mitts on the dresser, along with a cord and tourniquet, a manual drill, and a soldering iron.

Flood reserved comment. Instead he pointed to the gap in the salmon curtains. “See. At just the right angle, you can see in from outside.”

“Bullshit,” Leon muttered. “There ain’t nothin’ but the Gulf of fuckin’ Mexico out there,” but then he peeked out and up.

“The end-wing of the building,” Floor said. “I was on the fifth floor. It was a million-to-one that the bed, the gap, and the vantage point all added up.”

“Shit,” Leon muttered and closed the curtains. He rubbed his face. “I still don’t know what the fuck’s going on. I can’t believe this.”

Flood chuckled again. “And I can’t believe that Oscar hasn’t frisked me yet. Shame on you, Osc. You’re the bulldog, right? You’re Leon’s lieutenant. It’s your job to protect The Man.”

Oscar slammed Flood belly to wall and began to pat him down.

“Right and left jacket pockets, Osc…”

Oscar’s face gaped like a kissing fish when he extracted five bands of $100 bills. “Holy fuck, Leon. There’s a lot of fuckin’ money here…”

“Fifty grand, Oscar,” Flood told him. “I just got it out of the bank. It’s for you guys.”

Silence brewed like broth while Leon counted the money. His eyes seemed alight against the dark, shiny face. “Mr. Flood? To what do we own this excess of generosity?”

Without asking, Flood lit a cigarette while he tried to tame the nervous tremor in his hands. “I’m buying the girl,” came his blunt reply. “Ann.”

Leon was shaking his head. “Mr. Flood? This is quite unusual.”

“Yeah,” Oscar agreed.

“And I sense that you’re a smart man…”

I’m a fucked up man, Flood almost chuckled. Not necessarily a smart one. “So are you, I hope. I think that handing fifty grand in cash over to you guys is proof of my good faith—”

Leon opened his mouth to talk but Flood cut him off.

“Let me have my say first, Leon, because you and I both know I could be dead a minute from now. You can keep the fifty grand and let the girl go, or…” Flood looked to Oscar. “Care to finish the sentence, Osc?”

Oscar smirked. “Or we can keep the fifty grand, kill the girl and kill you.”

“Bingo,” Flood said. “And you’re thinking if you let her go, she’ll go to the cops but, really guys, there’s no evidence that any crimes have been committed here. She’s a junkie and a prostitute. If you let her walk out that door, the only place she’s gonna go is straight to the bus station. She’d be too afraid of you guys coming after her later.” Flood turned his gaze. “Right, Leon?”

Leon looked back at him deadpan.

“And if you kill her and me,” Flood continued, “you guys will never get the other fifty grand.”

More silence stretched over the room. “What other fifty grand might this be?” Leon asked, tapping his Gucci’d foot.

Flood dragged his cigarette deep. “The other fifty grand I give you after the girl is out of here.”

Oscar stepped forward. “It’s on you?”

“Of course not, Einstein.”

Oscar seemed duped by the remark. “Who’s Ein—”

“Shut up, Oscar,” Leon cut in. “Mr. Flood’s got this thought out pretty well.”

Flood chuckled out loud. “At least I hope so. Let the girl go, Leon. You’ve got nothing to lose.”