time to move him with Tommy and the drunk going out the front door together.
Speedo tries to take a step toward the bar but I grab his collar and yank him towards the back hallway.
“Move, Speedo.”
“Look, kid. What’s this about? What’s your name?”
“Sawyer. Name’s Sawyer. That ring a bell?”
His red baggy eyes finally show some spark and his mouth tightens into a thin line. “Whaddya need, kid?”
Another hard shove and we’re at a door marked Private. I try the door and it opens right up. “What I need is for you to get in there.”
I push him all the way to the front of his shit covered desk and shut the office door behind me. I throw the bolt on the door and then lean on it, staring at him. I can still hear shit banging around up front.
“Jesus. You’re Mick, ain’t you?”
“That’s perfect for a dumbass. You couldn’t hit a beach ball with a tennis racket, you know that? You had a fifty percent chance of being right and you’re still wrong.”
“What the fuck is this about? Hell, kid, me and your old man were partners. It’s Jerzy, right? Jerzy, look, I heard about Gar. Bad fucking deal. What can I do here? Whatcha need, kid? Anything, you got it.”
The office is exactly what I would expect. A musty ass old room full of clutter. A collection of shit lying everywhere, papers, ledger books, food, dirty plates. Just like one of them sorry ass hoarders or whatever you call them. The thought crosses my mind that he might also have a gun in here somewhere and I watch his eyes. I don’t really need to but I flip on the over head light switch.
“Listen up.”
He interrupts me right there, though. “Jerzy, look. I’m an old man here. I mean, what the hell? Whaddya want from me?”
“Listen the fuck up, like I said. You got one chance to save your old rotten ass. One chance.” I hold up a finger. “And I promise you that I’m only asking once. Understood?”
He nods at me and he’s probably gonna lie because that’s just who he is, but hey. I do have him spooked, though.
From the other side of the door there are two loud knocks and then two more, louder this time. “Hey, Speedo! You in there?” Tommy yells it, but he don’t sound too concerned.
I nod yes at Speedo and then he watches me reach inside my leather jacket. I pull the Berretta out but hold it straight down along my leg.
He stares at it and then at me.
I cock my head at him, raise my eyebrows up like a smartass and shrug. A silent, ‘hey, it’s your fucking call, old man.’
“Tommy, sweet Jesus!” he yells “I got a meeting going on in here! What the fuck is it? Get that other drunk out of the bar and then we’ll get started on our inventory when I get done in here.”
“All right, sorry. Just checking. So you want the other guy out too, then, right?”
“What the fuck did I just say, you fucking moron? Do it, we’ll be done here in less than ten minutes if some jag-off bartender will just stop interrupting us.”
“All right, okay. Fuck me. All right, already.” I could hear Tommy mumbling as he walked away.
The old man crossed his arms and leaned back on his desk. “Okay, badass, here we are. Let’s talk.”
“I don’t need talk out of you. I need an answer.”
“I’ll do my very best.”
“Where’s the necklace, old man? And you’d best think hard about what I just said before you answer me. One chance, one time.”
He was staring at me from about five feet away. I could see him thinking but he’s too old, too slow and he knows it.
“Where’s the diamond necklace, the one you fucked everybody on?”
He just looks at me and chews on his cigar.
Silence. He’s thinking about what might happen if he rolls over. Would it save his sorry ass?
“What necklace?” he finally says.
“I guess that I just wanted to see what you’d say, you old asshole.” I raise the gun.
“Wait a minute now, boy.”
It had a suppressor on it and that must have gotten his attention, because he
Speedo tries to take a step toward the bar but I grab his collar and yank him towards the back hallway.
“Move, Speedo.”
“Look, kid. What’s this about? What’s your name?”
“Sawyer. Name’s Sawyer. That ring a bell?”
His red baggy eyes finally show some spark and his mouth tightens into a thin line. “Whaddya need, kid?”
Another hard shove and we’re at a door marked Private. I try the door and it opens right up. “What I need is for you to get in there.”
I push him all the way to the front of his shit covered desk and shut the office door behind me. I throw the bolt on the door and then lean on it, staring at him. I can still hear shit banging around up front.
“Jesus. You’re Mick, ain’t you?”
“That’s perfect for a dumbass. You couldn’t hit a beach ball with a tennis racket, you know that? You had a fifty percent chance of being right and you’re still wrong.”
“What the fuck is this about? Hell, kid, me and your old man were partners. It’s Jerzy, right? Jerzy, look, I heard about Gar. Bad fucking deal. What can I do here? Whatcha need, kid? Anything, you got it.”
The office is exactly what I would expect. A musty ass old room full of clutter. A collection of shit lying everywhere, papers, ledger books, food, dirty plates. Just like one of them sorry ass hoarders or whatever you call them. The thought crosses my mind that he might also have a gun in here somewhere and I watch his eyes. I don’t really need to but I flip on the over head light switch.
“Listen up.”
He interrupts me right there, though. “Jerzy, look. I’m an old man here. I mean, what the hell? Whaddya want from me?”
“Listen the fuck up, like I said. You got one chance to save your old rotten ass. One chance.” I hold up a finger. “And I promise you that I’m only asking once. Understood?”
He nods at me and he’s probably gonna lie because that’s just who he is, but hey. I do have him spooked, though.
From the other side of the door there are two loud knocks and then two more, louder this time. “Hey, Speedo! You in there?” Tommy yells it, but he don’t sound too concerned.
I nod yes at Speedo and then he watches me reach inside my leather jacket. I pull the Berretta out but hold it straight down along my leg.
He stares at it and then at me.
I cock my head at him, raise my eyebrows up like a smartass and shrug. A silent, ‘hey, it’s your fucking call, old man.’
“Tommy, sweet Jesus!” he yells “I got a meeting going on in here! What the fuck is it? Get that other drunk out of the bar and then we’ll get started on our inventory when I get done in here.”
“All right, sorry. Just checking. So you want the other guy out too, then, right?”
“What the fuck did I just say, you fucking moron? Do it, we’ll be done here in less than ten minutes if some jag-off bartender will just stop interrupting us.”
“All right, okay. Fuck me. All right, already.” I could hear Tommy mumbling as he walked away.
The old man crossed his arms and leaned back on his desk. “Okay, badass, here we are. Let’s talk.”
“I don’t need talk out of you. I need an answer.”
“I’ll do my very best.”
“Where’s the necklace, old man? And you’d best think hard about what I just said before you answer me. One chance, one time.”
He was staring at me from about five feet away. I could see him thinking but he’s too old, too slow and he knows it.
“Where’s the diamond necklace, the one you fucked everybody on?”
He just looks at me and chews on his cigar.
Silence. He’s thinking about what might happen if he rolls over. Would it save his sorry ass?
“What necklace?” he finally says.
“I guess that I just wanted to see what you’d say, you old asshole.” I raise the gun.
“Wait a minute now, boy.”
It had a suppressor on it and that must have gotten his attention, because he
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