Become wealthy or perish in the attempt

 1915

        'So he's in there?' Dan Foley asked the young man. 'Yup, big fella like you said, sitting at the

end of the bar. He was talking to the old guy behind the bar, real loud the big one.' The young man

replied. 

            Dan took out his wallet, pulled out a 5 and handed it to the young man, 'Thanks kid.' He said.

'Sure thing.' The kid replied, putting the bill in his pocket before walking off into the night. Dan Foley

was on the porch of his girlfriends apartment building, which was across the street from the small hole

in the wall bar he was watching where a man inside, Bill Murphy, owed him 500 dollars.

        It was almost 2 in the morning, in the Flats section of Warner, near the bridge with Franklin. The

bar in question, called Jim's, was down an alley, and down an additional flight of stairs. There was no

other way in or out. According to Foley intelligence, which he'd been gathering about Bill Murphy for

the past couple of days this was always his last stop when he was drinking, which, according to the 

same intelligence, was every weekend. 

        Dan Foley managed two gambling houses and ran a loansharking and extortion crew for Harold

Harper, Warner's criminal boss. Foley took a clip of a cigar out of his jacket pocket, put it in his mouth,

struck a match on a box of matches he'd taken from the same pocket, a lit it up. Foley had been in his

share of fights as a youth growing up in his tight knit Irish neighborhood in Warner, even more as he'd 

risen in the ranks of Harold Harper's organization. 

        Plenty of times he could recall that he'd had to rough somebody up, or sometimes worse because

they had failed to pay him, or had come up short. Despite all this, Bill Murphy still challenged him. 

First, he'd asked for the loan two weeks ago claiming he'd lost bad at poker. No big deal, he'd done 

business with Murphy plenty of times before on similar sums without a problem. Then, when the day

came from him to pay up, he'd pleaded with Foley to give him another week. He was having some cash

flow issues, rent to pay, but he was good for it, honest, he'd have it for him in full, next Friday.

            Foley watched another lone drunk emerge from the alley, skinny guy in a bowler hat, unsteady

on his feet, easy prey, he thought. Plenty of gangs of youths and others prowling the streets at this time

waiting for intoxicated patrons to emerge to rob. Then a couple of nights before, Foley had gone to 

Chapman's to meet Harold, and the bartender, Arch, told him someone was just talking about him. 

Bill Murphy, Arch had said. He'd been in, drunk as a skunk, talking all kinds of dirt about you. How 

you think your this big shot, tough guy, but your actually a Nancy. The kind that gets other guys to do

his dirty work for him, how he's not afraid of you. How he doesn't give a damn about the money he 

owes you and he'll pay it back whenever he feels like it.    

        Then, not surprisingly, yesterday, when Foley had gone to meet Murphy to finally collet his 500

Murphy was nowhere to be found. He had been surprised, however, when he found out Murphy had

not skipped town. 

            Foley walked across the street to the side the bar was on, feeling inside his coat pocket for

his weapon of choice for this operation-a padlock in a sock. I need something with stopping power, he

had thought at the time. Murphy was a big man, just over 6'2, and wide. Nothing would be worse for his

reputation if he attempted to collect from Murphy and, Murphy beat him up.

        One quick hit to the skull should do it, he thought. A few choice words. He stood in the shadows

of the building that housed the bar so he could see the back of the people coming out. From the alley

he could hear the rumbles of a few patrons coming out. He took out his weapon from his coat pocket,

swung it a few times to get a feel for it. Soon, he thought.

        A young couple emerged from the alley, then, sure enough he heard the sound of drunken singing,

or it could have been humming coming from the same direction.  The couple headed off toward the

more well lit side of town as he saw Murphy's massive, bearded, drunken form emerge. Foley got up 

and walked toward him the padlock/sock dangling at his side. 

            'Hey Murphy!' Foley yelled as he walked over started to swing the sock, when he was a few feet

away his big head turned and Foley swung the weapon in a wide arc that connected with Murphy's fore

head with sickening crack as Murphy collapsed 

        'NOT Gonna pay me you fucking ape!' Foley screamed and kicked him hard in the ribs as he was 

down. Murphy was speechless on the ground as Foley went into his pocket and took out his wallet, 

which was filled with bills. 

    'Stupid asshole.' Foley said as he counted out his 500 from the wad and left the rest dropping it beside

him.  Murphy had fallen on his head and as Foley noticed he wasn't awake and there was blood 

dripping from the wound to his head. He look around, the street was still empty as this hour, so he 

grabbed Murphy's hat, which had fallen off, dragged his body into the alley, propped him up against

the side of the building like he was sleeping one off and put his hat over his head.

2010

        The clock on his nightstand read 2pm when Steve Berardi awoke on Monday morning, his brain

throbbing from a bad hangover. He glanced over at the bed beside him to see if she was still there but

it was empty. 

        He'd been over at the House of Venus until closing time last night, around 2AM and had managed

to bring home a pretty good looking blonde. He could tell she was primarily interested in him because 

of the pills he had, but that never bothered him before and it didn't now.

        The week before Matteo had sent Steve over to Eugene's, where this other guy Sea Dog, had sold

Steve a pretty decent potpourri of pills-Vicodin, percoset, oxycodones, oxycontin. Telling Steve how he

goes down to Florida to get them, they have these pain clinics there, you can get as much as you want if

you got the cash. 

            Steve rolled out of bed putting his feet on the floor. He could still smell the scent of her perfume

lingering on her side of the bed.

        He grabbed a cigarette from his pack and glanced at the time, good, he thought, I still have some 

times. Matteo's Mom  Sharon worked as cashier at the supermarket downtown, and she got off at 3 

during the week and Steve hoped to be somewhere else by then.

            He got up, put the cigarette in his mouth, got up and out of his small room in the corner of the

hallway, down the stairs. The house was quiet and still as he made his way down the stairs and through

the living room, and then the kitchen which had a door that led to the garage, where he liked to smoke.

            The familiar musty smell of the garage greeted him as he pulled his lighter out of his sweatpants

and lit up his smoke, I went out in these last night? He thought to himself, looking at them. No, I came

home and changed, he remembered. The garage was still empty now as Steve looked around, Matteo

and Sharon's car both gone, just the little specks of dust dancing in the early afternoon light from the

garage windows. 

            Steve was seated in the folding chair that served as his spot, along with a TV dinner table he'd

found out there where he put his ashtray, and, when he was smoking something else, his rolling tray. 

That's right, he thought as he took a drag and exhaled a large breath of smoke, Matteo said he was 

going away for the weekend, he'd be back late Monday.

           'Hold down the fort for me.' He'd told Steve, who hadn't bothered asking where he was going to

be off to. My fucking head, Steve thought, as he took another drag. There was something I needed to 

tell him, he thought, something important.

            He searched his brain trying to remember what is was, something about Matteo, something he 

should know. Since around 5pm Friday he'd been drinking, sampling some of the pills he'd purchased

from Sea Dog, and smoking herb, but amid this drug induced haze something stood out in his mind. 

Burned into it.

            Speaking of burning...Steve thought as he finished his smoke and put it out in the ashtray on the

TV dinner table, I'm pretty sure I put half a blunt roach on my nightstand...

            'One pills makes you larger and one pills makes you small..' Steve thought to himself as he

took the last hits of the blunt roach he'd saved in the backyard. He was sitting under the awning on the

patio furniture Matteo had back there. Normally, if Matteo was home, he'd have smoke it in the garage,

but he decided against that since Sharon was coming home soon.

        Sharon was incredibly good, Steve had noticed living there, of making him aware that she was

angry without actually saying anything. It was as though she could make him feel the tension, that she

didn't really want him there.

        One night, just a few months back, when they thought he was out and were downstairs talking in

the living room Steve had overheard them talking about him. 'Isn't there anything we can do?' Matteo

had asked. 'I know this is what Dad wanted, but, I mean I never thought it was going to be this long. 

Almost a year! He just sits around on his ass and doesn't do anything! I think he's trying to have sex

with Alice.'

            Alice! he thought. That's what it was! He'd seen Guy over at the Wild Card with Alice on Friday

night! They hadn't seen him though, that he was sure of. He remembered because he watched Alice

come up to the bar to order a drink, then telling the guy at the bar who was trying to talk to her to buzz

off. He could tell by the facial expressions.

        Then, and he remembered this well because it happened a few minutes after, he saw Guy go over

to the Guy at the bar after coming out of the bathroom and having a few choice words. Steve hadn't 

been able to follow the whole exchange but he clearly remembered hearing 'My girl.' He was referring 

to Alice as his girl. 

            Steve put out the roach on the ashtray he brought in from the garage. That little weasel, he 

thought to himself. He'd been telling Matteo, pretty much since they'd reconnected after he'd gotten out

of the joint, that Guy was no good. His father was a snitch, he had that snitch blood. A snake that would

do anything to get ahead, including screw over his own flesh and blood. 

        He'd been amazed when Matteo hadn't severed ties after finding out Guy had stolen from Matteo's

own mother for jewelry to sell for drugs, (fucking kids these days!), but he was pretty sure this would

seal the deal. He'd even excused himself from his two female companions that night and managed to 

take a couple of pictures of them on his phone.

        They weren't the best quality but it was clear enough, the two of them sitting at the table together.

He'd rather enjoyed sneaking the picture, made him feel like some kind of spy. Plus, he'll finally see

what a rat scumbag that kid really is, he thought. 

        'Alright, I'll talk to you later.' Matteo said to Mike as he walked back toward his car. 'Talk to you

later.' Mike replied. They were outside their friend Freddy's house in Franklin. They had driven a 

U-Haul out to see a friend in the Bronx to pick up some PlayStation and X-box consoles. His father Sal

had set it up for him, told him the connect, Miguel was a solid guy, someone who could be trusted.

        The transaction had gone on without a hitch, Matteo had given Miguel the money and they'd given

Matteo the key to the storage unit where the consoles were held, then one of their guys had gone with

them over to the storage place and showed them where they were and helped them load them into the

U-Haul.

            I should probably call her, Matteo thought as he got into his car turned the ignition. When he'd

told Alice he'd had to go out of town for some business over the weekend, she said that was fine, an old

friend of hers was in town and they had plans to get together. Matteo opened the ashtray and found the

half a blunt clip he'd left for himself when he got back, lighting it as he took off down the street.

           Alice hadn't seemed bothered at all when he'd told her he'd be going away for the weekend, in

fact, she seemed positively giddy. He took his phone out of his Jacket, found her number on his presets

and dialed. 

        It rang for a few times, then voicemail. He hung up, not entirely sure what to say. He'd thought 

she'd at least pick up, feign some interest that he'd returned. He another hit from the blunt, before 

putting it out as he saw he was close to the bridge with Warner. There was usually a cop waiting on the

other side, he thought as he came up on a red light just before the bridge.

        Something is up with her, Matteo thought as the light changed and he headed over the bridge. His

house was only ten minutes away now and he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather not be. After they'd

done the deal with the Salvadorians, he'd parted ways with Mike and driven upstate to meet with his 

father. 

        Sal, his father, had told him not to tell anyone where he was going, or that their meeting had even

taken place. 'Not even your mother, if the wrong people find out, bad things could happen.' So he'd 

driven up to the cabin where he said he'd was and they'd talked for about an hour. Matteo had told him

about Steve, trying not to be too negative as he did so, how the Wild Card, House of Venus, was doing

as well as their other illegitimate businesses were doing. Although technically the boss of the family 

was Sal's brother Carmine's former right hand man, Robert 'Bobby C' Carbone, Sal explained that he

felt reassured knowing that Matteo was taking care of things for him.

        'Anyway Bobby's got too much fucking heat on him right now.' Which struck Matteo as odd,

considering he'd just been over Bobby's his house earlier this month and he hadn't said anything. Still, Sal had

declined to explain, instead giving Matteo a brick sized stack of money in an envelope to, 'Help your

mother with expenses,' before telling Matteo he had to be getting on. When Matteo had asked, just

before he left, when Sal would be coming back, he'd simply replied, 'As soon as I can kid.'

        Matteo pulled up to the curb of his house, his mother Sharon's car was still gone. He checked

his watch, 2:45, she'd be back soon, Matteo thought as he grabbed his backpack from the passenger

seat and got out of the car. 

            That mean's he'd probably home, Matteo thought as he slung the backpack over his shoulder. 

And when he's home, you always know it, he observed. He and his mother had even given Steve some

thing of a nickname 'The presence.' Because even when he was upstairs in his room, or outside in the 

garage getting stoned or lifting weights, you always felt his presence. 

        It was almost tangible, something you could feel, Matteo thought as he walked in the front door. 

As he came in through the foyer to the living room which led to the kitchen, he could already see Steve

on the couch, watching TV and drinking a beer.

        Jesus, Matteo thought, taking the the way around through the hallway to avoid going through the

living room, putting his backpack down on the kitchen table. 'Hey!' He heard Steve yell from the living

room. 'You're finally back, where in the hell did you go?'

        Here we go, Matteo thought. I've barely gotten through the door and he's already asking questions.

Fuck it, Matteo thought and opened the fridge and grabbed a cold can of PBR, it's been a long day.

        He cracked the can as he sat down on the easy chair he usually took next to the couch. 'What the

hells been going on in this dump?' Matteo asked him as he sat down.

        Steve turned off the TV, 'Well, I found something out. And you're not going to like what is is but I

feel obligated to tell you.'

            'Shit, tell me then.' Matteo said, having a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that he already 

knew what it is.

            Steve told Matteo how he'd seen Alice with Guy that night, how he'd called his his 'Girl.' 

Steve raised his right hand, 'God's honest fucking truth. I know I've never liked the kid but I'm telling

you it was him, I even took some pictures.'

        Matteo's face took on a stone cold expression, he held up his hand. 'No, that's alright, I believe

you.'

            'I'm so sorry man,' Steve said. 'Look if there is anything I can do. Can you believe that little shit,

I mean-'

            'There is something you can do.' Matteo said, interrupting him. 'Can you find someplace to go 

for a few hours? I just need some time alone to think.'

        'See Carmine, the boss of the Berardi's in the 70's when I first moved here and started making

moves with Judge, officially, he was one of those old school mob guys that wasn't into drugs. Like Vito

Corleone in 'The Godfather.' Not so much because he cared about the morality of it or nothing, but 

because he was worried about the long sentences that the feds could hang over his guy's head if they

did get busted.'

            Eugene walked into the living room with steaming hot coffee in one hand for him and another

for Jack, who'd he'd let stay on the couch the night before. 'There's cream and milk in the fridge if you

want.' He told him as he laid the coffee down in front of him. Jack was sitting on the couch, he got up

and walked to the fridge.

    'Mostly, though, they left us alone as long as we paid them our 'Street tax.' See Carmine's bread and

butter back in those days was the union, local 504, where his cousin Steve Amato was president. But,

yeah, he made a lot just off that street tax from dealers and stuff.' Eugene laughed. 

        'Like motherfucking uncle Sam.'

        Jack walked back in with his newly made coffee, 'So he didn't bother you guys then?' He asked

Eugene. 'Hell no, he didn't want to deal with us uppity negros too much.' Eugene smiled, then suddenly

felt sad. He hadn't thought about Judge, or Lamont, or Marcus and years and now it was all coming 

back.

            Eugene took a sip of his coffee thinking, 'Still, he made all the money from the fucking Union,

the pension fund, the no-show jobs, all of that, and he still had to get his damn pound of flesh from us.'

He said bitterly.

        'But yeah as long as we paid them on time they left us alone. You still see there youngest brother 

around town from time to time, talking about the good old days and shit.' He said.

        Jack had come back with his coffee and sat down on the couch. 'Yeah!, man I think that was him

I saw Friday nights at the Wild Card. Loudmouth guy, seemed like a real asshole.'

            Eugene laughed, 'Ha, ha, yeah that's Steve. Likes to talk like it was him running the whole town.

Man, back then he wasn't nothing but a two-bit thug. I heard even his own brothers referred to him as 

'The slow one.''

        'That was the same night I saw Guy, he was with this girl but I didn't know he was there and it was

after I'd talked to her and she went over to her table and told him what happened that he came to talk to

me.'

            Eugene sipped his coffee, 'Oh yeah, what did she look like?' He asked. Eugene gestured to some

buds he had on a tray in the middle of the table, there were papers next to it, 'Hey can you roll that up 

for me? My hands are all fucked up.'

        Jack nodded and slid the tray toward where he was sitting, 'She had red hair, kind of like a punk/

goth kind of gal.'

        Eugene nodded, noting it in his head, sounds like Matteo's girl. Eugene had a somewhat cordial

business relationship with Matteo over the years, sometimes buying from him, sometimes selling. He

remembered a few months back selling him some percocet, and he'd been with a girl who sounded a lot

like that. He couldn't remember her name however.

        'That's alright though.' Eugene said with a grin, 'Because now you get him where you want him.'

Jack had managed to swallow his pride when Guy was mocking him, had told him it was no big deal 

and that he'd like to do business again. 

           Jack had then exchanged numbers with Guy again and the next day, Jack had called Eugene and

gone over to his apartment to concoct a plan. 

            Eugene gave him 4, 10mg percocets to give to Guy. 'Tell him you can get him a whole bottle of 

these for 100.'

        'He thinks your just some stupid idiot who doesn't know anyone, that's good let him think that.' He

had told him. Guy had come down in a flash when Jack told him he had a free sample for him, and 

when he told him the price he said he was interested. 

            'How can I trust you though?' He'd asked Jack, after what he'd done to him. No worries, Jack

had said. you can come right up with me and get them from him yourself.

        He had grinned then, attempting to look trustworthy, but Guy had still seemed wary. 'Ok, I'll

let you know tomorrow.'

        Then, Eugene explained, the plan was simple. When Guy calls you bring him to apartment 38 at 

the end of the hall where Jamal and a couple others were waiting. 

        Jack finished rolling up the last joint of the bud and lit up the first one, 'You really think he's going

to call?' He asked Eugene as he passed him the joint.

        Eugene took it, 'Oh yeah, I made sure of that.' Eugene explained how he'd told all of his dealers, 

and Jamal had told his, not to sell to Guy anymore. They were sick of his shit, Eugene explained and 

when Jack had told him how he'd ripped him off he decided to do something about it.

        'Now I have a pretty decent amount of influence in this town I like to think. Over 20 years in the

game you'd think so. So I know, he's gonna be having to look pretty far for his buzz, which will lead 

him back here.'

            Eugene passed the joint back to Jack, 'Are they gonna kill him?' He asked as he took his hit. 

'No, not kill him, he might have  hard time walking for  a while though.' 

    'All baggers to the front end.' The announcement on the PA system seemed like a voice from a dream

as  Guy came out of his sleep. He was in the breakroom of the the Stop 'N Save where he worked part-

time 20 hours a week.

        He'd taken the 2 percocet's that Jack had given him, what he had called a 'Free sample,' Friday'

night, before coming into work at 2 that day. In addition, he'd smoked a couple bowls over at the 

picnic tables the company set up behind the store for employee breaks while he was supposed to be

out rounding up carriages.

            Guy had to go over to Franklin to even score the weed he had gotten because, for the past 3 

weeks none of the dealers he usually associated with had anything. Or so they claimed. 'Yeah, man it's

been dry everywhere.' One said, with that same stupid grin on his face they all seemed to put on when

they were telling him this news. Like they were happy about it.

        Finally he'd resorted to calling up an old high school friend of his over in Franklin, Tim. Tim 

almost always had weed, but it was always 'Shank.' The purple, almost brown stuff they he sold for

dirt cheap, 50/ounce.

            Guy glanced at the clock on the wall, 7:30, just a half hour left, thank god, he thought, and put

his head back down and drifted off to sleep.

           He awoke to a strong hand shaking him, 'Hey!' he opened his eyes, an older man whom he 

recognized as a clerk from grocery was standing over him, and he saw the clock on the wall now read

8:30.

                'Where have you been? They've been paging you guys for almost an hour now.' The man said

sternly. Guy thought about it for a second, 'I was just on break.' He explained. 

            'For over an hour?' The man said. 'Punch out and go home you don't work here anymore.'

'Fine with me.' Guy said and got up and walked out.

           Almost 6 months, not bad for me, Guy thought as he walked out through the automatic doors.

When he did work, he could only work part time because he was on SSI, his jobs usually only lasted a

few weeks, maybe a month.

        He had taken the last perc in the middle of his shift and he was still feeling its effects, plus the

bowls he'd smoked while he was outside getting carts. 

        Jack said he had more of them, he though to himself as he walked to the bench that was just 

outside the exit of the store next to the pay phone and sat down. In fact, Guy thought, Jack is just 

about the only person I know of in town who said they have anything.

            Something off about that, he thought to himself. His cousin Matteo said he was coming home

this afternoon, around 2, he'd said on Friday, but so far he hadn't replied to any of Guy's calls or texts.

He took a drag of his smoke, but it was a long trip, he's probably tired I'm sure he'll get back to me at

some point, he thought.

        Should I call Jack? Guy thought to himself. He still had a couple hundred from his paycheck from

the week before that he was going to spend on drugs, coke he was hoping, but everyone had been dry.

Why wouldn't I want to call him? He thought to himself. He wasn't entirely sure, but there was some

thing in the back of his mind that made him pause, a primitive ancient thing. Danger, it said.

            Danger? He asked himself? From who Jack? He laughed to himself and dialed Jack's number.

        Why does this feel like something I will be testifying about in court at some point? Jack thought

as he sat on the couch in Jamal's apartment watching his cousin, Andre, play GTA 5 on playstation. 

At around 3 that afternoon, Eugene had to go meet an old friend of his, he'd said, and told Jack he

could wait over at Jamal's apartment for Jack to call.

        Eugene had told Jack he should be back in a couple of hours. When Guy called Jack about the 

Percs, all he had to do was bring him to this building, over to Jamal's apartment and Jamal and his 

friend, known only as 'Hands,' would take care of the rest.

            At first it had been ok, he'd smoked some weed with Jamal and his cousin, who were the only

one's there at first, and played some videogames. For conversation, Jack related his tale of how Guy had

relieved him of his pound of weed, feeling even stupider telling it again. Then, Jamal related how a few

years earlier, he had fronted Guy, 200 dollars worth of coke, and he'd completely blown him off. Not 

answered his calls, avoiding him on the street.

        'So after a couple of years, I figured I'd let it drop. Not forget it, mind you, but just put it on the 

backburner, for when the right time comes.' Now, Jamal said, it was like God sent Jack over to Eugene's

that night with his tale of being wrong by the same person. 'Now it's like god is giving me this 

opportunity for vengeance.'

            That had struck Jack as odd, and as one, two hours went by with no word from Eugene or Guy,

he tried to call Guy several times, he started to feel anxious. Jamal asking him when Guy was going to

call him, why hadn't he called yet. Then an hour earlier, Jamal's friend 'Hands' had shown up. Shortly

after arriving, he'd lit up a large dark blunt and shared it between himself and Jamal. Andre had shown

no interest in it despite smoking with them before. 

            Then when Jack had asked if he could take a hit, Jamal had explained, 'Man you don't want this,

trust me.' 'Why not?' Jack asked. 'Cause its crack bitch!' Jamal had said and laughed manically. 

        Now, Jack was sitting on Jamal's couch with a mere headache from what he'd smoked earlier, 

while Jamal and Hands, were in the kitchen talking in low tones. What if I just snuck out? he thought

to himself. Come up with some excuse to go outside and just, go...where exactly? And even if he did

figure out that part, it was hard to imagine a scenario where he could just return to Eugene's as if it

never happened.

            Just as Jack was contemplating such a move, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he extracted

it from his pocket, it was Jack's number. 

        'Hello.' He answered. 'Hey, Jack, it's Guy. I was wondering if you still have that thing you were 

talking about on Friday, for the same price.'

        'Yeah, I got you.' Jack replied. 'Do you think you could pick me up? I'm over at the Stop 'N Save

on McNeil Highway.' Guy asked.

        'Yeah, no problem.' Jack replied. 'I'll be there in 20 minutes.' He hung up with phone and put it 

back in his pocket. Jamal had come back into the living room, a listless expression on his face, 'Was 

that him?' He asked. 'Yeah, he said he's interested, he just needs a ride he's over at the Stop and Save

on McNeil highway.'

        'Right on, right on.' Jamal said. 'No problem I know where that is I used to work there let's go 

now.'

        'Yeah, but he's not expecting you. Wouldn't it be easier if just borrowed your car real quick? It's

only ten minutes away. Jack asked.

                 'Ok., but be careful with the whip man.' 

'I'll be there in 2 minutes.' Jack texted at the light which led to the shopping plaza that the Stop 'N Save

was in. 

        It always feels like longer for the person waiting to get picked up, Jack thought as he went through

the light that led into the plaza. As he made his way into the parking lot he slowed down and took out 

the joint he'd rolled from the center console.

        He lit it up as he rolled up to the entrance to the Stop 'N Save, where he could already see Guy 

sitting on a bench next to the pay phone. As he rolled up to the curb, Jack could feel he was definitely 

crossing a line now, entering unknown territory.

        Jack put the car in park, taking a toke of the joint as he watched Guy get up from the bench and

come around to the passenger side of Jamal's car. 

        'What up, buddy?' Guy said as he got in the car. 'Not much, just hanging out with my boy. He's 

got some good stuff, we're going to go over to his place.' Jack explained. He offered the joint to Guy,

'Want some of this?' he asked him. 

    'Sure.' Guy said. Jack had rolled the joint just before leaving Jamal's apartment. He'd chosen the 

strongest Indica he'd had, Mojo had explained to him the differences in the strains, thinking maybe

it would help. 

    Soften the blow so to speak. 'So we're going over to your boys house now?' Guy asked, passing

the joint back to Jack. 'Yeah, he's got it up there, I told him your cool. He's got a lot of these pills he told

me. Got them cheap, he gives these guy's money and they go down to Florida where you can fill all 

these bogus prescriptions for all kinds of pain meds.'

        Jack went through the light and up the hill towards Eugene's building. 'Nice.' Guy said, as Jack

passed him back the joint.

       'Yeah, I've thought about doing that before, saw this thing on the news about it. Just never could

get together the cash for it.' Guy explained, a note of sadness in his voice. 

        Jack made the turn into Eugene's building and parked Jamal's car in it's spot at the far end of

the parking lot, where it was before. 'As far away from the other cars as you can get it.' Was what 

he'd told Jack before he'd left.

        Jack parked the car and put out the joint, pocketing the roach. 

'Can't I just stay here, give you the money?' Guy asked Jack as he started to get out of the car. Jack 

hadn't really thought of that, but he also knew the herb would have dulled his senses. 'This guy like to

know exactly who he's dealing with. It'll be quick in and out.' 

           'You got the cash?' Jack asked Guy as he got out of the car. 'Sure.' Guy said, and took out the 20's

from his wallet. It will be easier, Jack explained as they walked toward Eugene's building, then he can

just give you the stuff when you come in.

        Jack put the money in his pocket and took out his phone to call Jamal upstairs, after a couple of 

rings he heard him pick up, 'Hello.' He said. 'Hey were here we're coming up now.' 'OK.' Jamal replied.

Jack hung up the phone and led the way up the stairs to the floor that Jamal's apartment was on. He felt

dirty the whole way, deceitful. He'd never cared much for Guy but now he just wondered what would

happen when they walked through that door. 

        I'll need to get out of the way, Jack thought as he walked to the end of the hall of Jamal's apartment

and knocked on the door. There was silence for a few seconds until he heard the sound of footsteps and

someone unlocking the door.

        The apartment was dark as Jack entered and Guy followed, the door shut behind him and locked

before Guy could react. 

        They were in the living room next to the couch, Jack walked further into the apartment, 'Hey is 

anyone here?' He said. 'Man, what the fuck is this-' Guy was cut off Jamal punched him hard on the

back of the head, then kicked him in the ribs as he fell.

            Guy rose briefly to look at Jack, who had moved a few steps back to the kitchen area, a look

of utter betrayal on his face, 'Hey, what the fuck..' Before Hands, struck him down with a blow to the 

face. As the beating went on Jack saw two things, that the door to the apartment was open, and that 

both the beaten and the beaters were not likely to notice him slipping out he did just that, closing

the door behind him.

        Jack could still hear the beating as he headed down the hall, but he felt relieved to simply be

out of the situation. He'd done his part, completed his end of the bargain, and now it was over. 

            However as he made his way down the stairs, Jack had a feeling that it wasn't over. That by

going along with this he'd brought himself into the whole other side of drug dealing. The ugly side.

       God, I hope no one comes, Alice thought as she looked at the clock in the back of her station at 

the deli at the Stop 'N Save. She was on the closing shift 4-11, and as far as see could see the store

had few patrons.

             Let's keep it that way, she thought as she walked past the slicers toward the back area, where

they posted the schedule each week. Matteo had called her at 2 that afternoon, just as she was getting

ready for work. 

        He hadn't been angry, particularly, he'd just told her that it was over. He knew about what she had 

going on with Guy and they were done. She'd told him that was fine, and he'd hung up the phone. 

Simple as that. As if he'd denied her something. A certain satisfaction. A reading of the list of 

grievances, an explanation. 

        She was behind a wall that led to the walk-in cooler, a little back/prep are where they skewered

the rotisserie chickens in the morning and breaded the fried chicken as well. Her strategy on the 4-11

closing shift was simple, after about 10:20 or so, when the customers started clearing out, she made

herself as invisible as possible.

            She'd take the cardboard back to the compactor across the store, she'd hung out in the back area,

sometimes she'd even make conversation with one of the incoming night crew people, coming in to 

stock the shelves from 10-6.

            She glanced over at the clock on the back wall behind the slicers, 10:35. So close, yet so far. 

And if I stay over here, someone is bound to come and get something, and she found the orders at that

time were always long and large. Pound of this, pounds of that, roast beef, liverwurst on the slicer she 

had just cleaned. Probably at least some cheese as well.\

            Fuck that Alice thought as she walked to the back area where she kept sweatshirt with her 

phone and wallet. Who is closing the store tonight? She thought as she put on her sweatshirt and took

out her phone to see if anyone had called, 2 missed, then as she turned the corner from behind the counter of the

deli she remembered-Matt. 

        She'd last seen him a couple hours ago walking through all the stations. Bakery closed at 8 and Sea

food at 9 and he'd came by the deli just to ask her when she was on until. 11 she'd told him giving him 

a warm smile. Matt was one of those managers who like to kiss ass to the store manager and all the 

higher ups but also liked to be seen as cool with the rank and file.

            She zipped her sweatshirt but so it obscured her Stop 'N Save shirt so none of the customers

would try to ask her any questions as she made her way down the aisles to the side entrance of the

store.

        As she came outside to her favorite place to go on break, a bench next to a pay phone right

outside the store, she realized why she wanted to use her phone, Guy. She'd heard them paging him on

the PA system multiple times, then, when she'd been upstairs in the breakroom, she'd heard what had

happened, the grocery manager had found him asleep in the breakroom. Said he'd been up there for 

over an hour.

         She opened her phone, 2 missed calls on from Guy and one from her Mom. The call from Guy

also had  a voicemail, which was strange, Guy never left her voicemails. She took a cigarette as from

her pack in her sweatshirt and lit up as she dialed her number to check the message.

        Matt's never caught me out here before, she thought as she heard the prompt, 'You have one new

voice message, to listen press 7.' She dialed the number.

            She knew something was off when she started listening to the message, it sounded like

someone falling, scuffling. A 'Butt dial,' or 'Pocket call,' except what she heard on the other end was

disturbing. The sound of hard blows, deep voices, swearing, and the sound of a person whimpering

in pain. 

       It went on like that for about another minute, before ending. Damn, she thought feeling deep

chills as she closed her phone. I know that sound, that's the sound of someone getting jumped.   

        It was almost midnight before Eugene finally got the confirmation text from Jamal that the

whole business with Guy was over and done with.

            'Well,' Eugene said closing his phone, 'I think it's time for me to be heading back now.' He said

as he stood up. He was in his friend Marcus Henderson's kitchen where they'd been sharing  a few beers

and going over old war stories from the past.

        'You think? Brother it's way past our bedtime, but thanks for stopping by.' Marcus replied, putting 

down his beer to shake Eugene's hand and quickly embrace.

        'So you just going to walk home? In this neighborhood?' Marcus asked half jokingly. 'Brother I've

walked through much worse in the past, besides, it gives me some time to think.' Eugene replied as he

headed toward the door.

        'Oh yeah.' Eugene paused for a moment, took out his wallet, and handed Marcus a 100. 'Thank you

so much man, I'll get you back I'm good for it.'

        'Don't worry about it.' Eugene replied as he walked out Marcus back door. 'I'll talk to you later.' As

he made his way down Marcus back step it occurred to Eugene, That's the first time he's ever said 

'Thank you.'

        Where did all our money go? Eugene wondered to himself as he walked up the dimly hit street

toward his apartment building. Marcus especially, he could remember being in Marcus's girlfriend

Yolanda's apartment in the late 70's counting stacks of cash. 

       Even with the 5,000 a month they had to kick up to Carmine Berardi for the privilege to peddle

narcotics in his town, they all made bank, Marcus, Eugene, Judge and Lamont. Eugene had served in

the army in Vietnam with Judge and Marcus, who were both from Warner. 

           Eugene had sent Jack over to Jamal's apartment at 3 and gone over to Marcus's place a couple

hours after that. He knew what was about to go down, and he had no interest in being around when it

happened. Ever since Eugene had mentioned what had happened to Jack with the pound with Guy and

Jamal had remembered how he'd ripped him off for an eightball a  few years back, he'd been itching for

the chance to finally retaliate.

        Always good to keep your people satisfied, Eugene thought as he passed the giant billboard which 

read 'UNITED WE STAND" with an American flag. I forgot how damn far he lives from me, Eugene 

thought as he passed the sign.

       Eugene had known Jamal since he was a kid, when he was with his mother, Brenda. Jamal's father

was an alcoholic and a crack addict who'd abandoned his mother when Jamal was an infant. He'd 

always had a bit of an anger issue because of it. Usually, in his capacity as Eugene's enforcer, he had

a way of getting it out. He once told Eugene, beating the piss out of someone helped, 'Clear his head.'

        'Like how it works for some people with fishing and stuff.' Eugene smiled to himself as he recalled

Jamal first telling him that.

           As he passed under a bridge, Eugene could see the bus station on the other side of the street, and

a group of people hanging out on that side. He walked forward purposefully, not looking at them as he

approached the bus station from the other side.

       As he approached the intersection 4 way intersection at the end of street where he was going to turn

he noticed a short man in a dark baseball cap coming toward him. Eugene kept up his stride as he came

up on the man, who stopped when they met, 'Hey man, you got a few bucks so I can catch a bus?' He

asked him.

            'Sorry.' Eugene replied without turning his head. He heard the man muttered a few curses to him

as he rounded the corner and felt grateful for the weight of his pistol in his wasitband.