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7/30/2019 Two Sleeves and a Shakedown
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Greg MankerENG230
0
-TWO SLEEVES AND A SHAKEDOWN-
BY: Greg Manker
Chap 1: The Fun
Chap 2: The Crew
Chap 3: The Money Tree
Chap 4: The Pour
Chap 5: Friend From Clive
Chap 6: Hooligans and Hicks
Chap 7: Not Carl, Kevin
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-Two Sleeves and a Shakedown-
Chap one: The Fun
You're born, you take shit. You get out in the world, you take more shit. You climb a
little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and
you've forgotten what shit even looks like. Welcome to the layer cake son.
The T.V. in the living room was at a loud volume although most of the people
were on the back porch. With the new bonfire pit and bar we built, there was plenty
of outdoor accommodations to keep the guests entertained. I was busy in my office
behind some double doors with their blinds shut when a rapping on the
windowpanes drew me out of my concentration. I stuff everything into the suitcase
again and put it under my desk just before the door opens.
Whatre you doing in here? The partys out back Ben!
The voice was sweet but the view was sweeter. Her chestnut hair bounced as
much as the bikini under it as she came into the room. Hard to believe a girl like this
is a part of my life. A year ago she didnt even know I existed. The mutual friends
and similar hangout spots werent enough to catch her eye, but it was
understandable considering my spot when going out usually was a corner booth or
shadow. Lurking, thinking the so many fish in the sea were going to jump on my
worm and hook for me.
Just doin some stuff. Ill be out in a sec sugar.
She wrapped her arm around my side and kissed my neck, a strain even for
the tall glass of water I craved a sip from. Yes sir, theres sure plenty to celebrate. I
make it easy for her and bend down to lock lips. Everything in the past few years
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that happened seems like an impossible scenario, but as I look her in the eyes I
know that I dont need to pinch my arm or fear that shell start kicking my ass and
find myself lying on some shit apartment floor next to a spoon and needle. Im living
in a beautiful house now, with a beautiful girl, a beautiful view and a beautiful
abundance of money. Fuckin b-e-a-utiful.
I just have to check my email and then Ill be out. Promise. Make me a whiskey-
coke in a pint. Dont hold back.
I cracked a smile knowing the stiff drink was going to probably knock my
socks off. I was glad she hadnt looked under the deskwhen she came in. I grabbed
the suitcase quickly as she left the room and stuffed the bills back into place. She
thinks I have an obsession or something. It was stupid to count it at a time like this,
but if anybody has ever held stacks of $100 bills in their hand, knowing full well that
they were his and his alone, they can empathize. Its a surreal feeling once monetary
issues become a thing of the past. If the old me had his hands on this he would
certainly be dead from a heroin overdose. Fortunately, oddly enough, after a mix-up
with a former lover I had to spend time in jail.
Sentenced to a year, but out in six months so regrets were minimal. I dont
regret hitting her at all to tell the truth. Its one thing to say I enjoyed it, but
honestly I savoir the moment my fist hit her mouth. I got sober whether I wanted to
or not, and I got a chance to get my head straight and move forward. A new life and
a fresh start were great, but Im no saint. The chance we took seemed more than
worth the risk, not to mention the temptation was dangling in our faces. Getting out
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of the dirty life for good seemed like the only chance I had and the rewards offered
such freedom.
I place the small suitcase back in the painting-concealed safe behind my desk
and chuckle at my clich hiding spot. Most people understood there was a safe in
hiding, but that was generally because of the painting of the safe that covered it.
Leslie had painted it thinking this was a cute touch, and reminded me that just
because someone knew where it was, didnt mean they could open it. Originally
planning on having a moveable bookcase, I chose the less expensive route and
pleased my lover by using her painting to conceal a smaller safe than originally
planned.
Still hard to believe we pulled it off but whats done is done and its best not
to think too much about it. Lets just say a certain entrepreneur thought his assets
were more secure than reality exposed. Theres not much to say either, seeing as it
was over and done in less than five minutes. A quick in-and-out with no sirens or
shots fired. When you can move a wall of a panic and safe room and then seal it
after youre done, there is little chance of interaction or proof. Its like poof and
something goes missing.
I was lucky enough to get a job through my uncle as a construction worker
for upscale homes when I got out. He had never lost faith in me when I was at rock
bottom, and was my most frequent visitor. He had always had a close relationship
with my sister, so maybe he got a soft spot for me after she died, but either way he
was kind enough to give me a chance. I never intended on breaking his trust, but
you tend to have a bit of freedom when building, and can make entry easier. I
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mightve gotten over my addiction to heroin, but I still had sticky fingers. I couldnt
help myself. Even now, with loads of cash, I steal candy bars and beef jerky just for
the rush.
Mr. Booker D. Hatfield made his money in porn and strip clubs. He called
himself an entrepreneur but his barely legal sights were far from legal girls and
anyone with eyes could see that. I mean a dirt bag like that doesnt deserve to have
so much and get away with what he does. Connections with the Department of
Justice seemed to defer any actions or complaints made. I wish I never would have
known this stuff but the guy drank at the same pub as us when we got done for the
day and talked his ass off. Bragging about his connections and money was just the
start. I know what he got his 3rdwife for Valentines Day, as well as what he got his
two other girlfriends that very same day. The girlfriends were teenage employees
of his but were only part of his usual cycle.
New slit every week! I cant wait to see what recruits come crawling up next week!
Fresh meat for the grinder, know what Im sayin champ?
I wanted to either throw up, or punch him in the face when I heard him talk.
No, I wanted to throw up in his face, but quickly punch it first, through the puke,
before the vomithits his face. Thats somebodys daughter, someones sister, cousin
or mom. He spoke with no remorse, and no respect for the female kind. All of this
can be summed up as just a bunch of justifications for a crime committed. No matter
what I say or how much the dick deserved it, it was illegal.
As I step out of the office my pinup reality welcomes me with my drink and
another kiss. As I guide her out onto the back porch with my free hand on her hip I
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soak in the floral scent of her hair. I smile as I survey my grungy good-timin pals
and realize how lucky I am to be here. Lucky I lived to see where life could take me.
The drunken choir sang along with the MP3 player, out of key, but full of sentiment:
Feel it in your heart and feel it in your soul
Let the music take control
We're going to Party, Liming, Fiesta, fo-eva
Come on and siiiing my sooooong
All night loooong
With every situation there are layers that need to be examined and taken into
consideration. Every piece has to fit just right or a world of shit can blow up in your
face. Luckily I have quite a few good friends in good places. Not necessarily high
places, but just the right places.
--
Chap two: The Crew
Cory and Fizz were around the fire pit burning marshmallows and launching
them into my pond like gooey meteors. I thought about discontinuing their fun, but
as I watched the stunning flaming sugar balls rocket through the air I chuckled and
made my way over to the bar with Leslie, deciding the fun they were having
overshadowed my thoughts of cleaning the yard in the morning. Its odd when you
find beauty in such a strange light. A wise man once said, Once in a while you get
shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right. Terry took a swig out
of his glass and waved me over to the bar where he and Bing were sitting. As I
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approach the bar Bing is shaking his head and looking at Terry like hes an idiot.
Even as close friends, they bickered like an old married couple.
Iswear, I seen it with my own eyes
Terry continued his testimony upon unaccepting ears as Bing gave him the
bird and blew the smoke in his face from the long drag he took from his cig.
Bullshit man Hey, Ben, Terrytard here seems to think that he saw a chupacabra
and plans on catching it. Tell him they dont live in Iowa.
Sorry man, I think hes got you there. They live in desert places like Mexico and
Texas. Too damn cold up here for those blue devils, Terry.
I responded, knowing all too well that Terry would spit out his usual
But...butbuts and get his dollar-fifty in for every other persons two cents. After
several more attempts to gain my support without any luck Terry gives me a look
like he had something important to tell me. I knew as much as the others that some
things were better left unsaid around the uninvolved, so I pat Leslie on the butt and
tell her to go calm Cory and Fizz down and deal out some cards.
Ill be over in a bit. Deal out cards for all six of us n lets play some golf.
Although I didnt really care for the card game Golf I knew that Leslie loved
it and would jump on the opportunity without question. We continued chatting
with an informal faux conversation for a minute before we knew we had lost
interest from the others. I turn up the music playing on the iHome slightly and raise
my glass to the others around the fire when they peer over. With the others
distracted Terry changes the subject to what he had intended, with a hushed and
unfamiliar serious tone.
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We got issues man. Donny didnt check in last night.
What do you mean? He called us last night and said he was getting off I-35.
Mr. Bentley said he never called him or anything. At least thats what Jarred said
when he called me this morning. I told him Donny got sick to buy us some time, but
shit, man. We were all supposed to stop by n kick him his cut! We all know what
rides on thisThis is all for nothing if we dont cover our asses.
Bings tone of voice was rarely so aggressive. I understood and shared his
concerns but didnt really have anything to say back. We were all on the same page
after we had finished the job, or so we thought. What we all promised wouldnt
happen but what we all feared would happen, was slowly becoming a reality.
I looked at Terry and Bing and knew that this wasnt something that we could
just ignore. The stakes were too high, and the prick we were dealing with was one
that we had no chance of negotiating with.
Well lets talk to the guys. We cant keep them out of the loop.
I hated shooing Leslie off but things were about to get interesting.
Babe! Head inside n go get comfy. Ill come chat with ya in a sec.
We both knew I was lying but at least she knew not to wait up. She
understood when business happens it happens. At least I think she does I watch
her glide into the house without looking back and admire her self-confidence.
Terry, what the fuck?
I turn to see Terry pointing his tan Ruger P89 at Corys head and before I can
say anything he fires.
CRACK!
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---
Chap three: The Money Tree
Cory didnt stop touching his face and his head for a good five minutes. He
couldnt believe he was alive. After his short freak-out he and everyone else noticed
the man lying just to the side of a tree, about 15 yards past the other side of the
fence beyond where Cory had been standing.
Scope reflected. Dumbass thought we were that easy to kill? Looks like I got some
food for your piggies, Ben.
Cory punched Terry a couple times and told him that next time he could at
least say duck. After we went over to the body and searched the would-be
assassin we found nothing but his rifle, a water canteen, ammunition and a white
business card with Mr. Bentleys trademark B. Now we definitely needed to talk to
Cory and Fizz. After explaining everything that we knew, neither of them looked
like they had any idea what to do.
The fact that Donny didnt meet up with Mr. Bentley didnt surprise Cory in
the slightest. His hands pulled at his rusty brown curly hair as he cursed his friends
fuck-up. His jolly figure accented his rage in a semi-humorous manor.
Who told you guys this would happen? Donny better hope I dont find his stupid
ass! Theres no excuse for this shit! You trusted him and I told you not to
Cory didnt conceal his emotions as well as the rest of us and I could tell by
his red cheeks and watery eyes that I needed to step in. Luckily Fizz jumped in and
made a profound statement. I was even surprised the longhaired redneck even
spoke up. Without a bottle of fireball in his belly he usually keeps a reserved aura.
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Alright, we know that Donny probably took off. Where did he always say he
wanted to go? Come on guys, dont be fuckin stupid. He couldnt have made it more
obvious.
Corys eyes got wide, as did the others, and the fire pit illuminated their
epiphany.
Colorado! Rat bastard wouldnt shut up about the damn mountains!
Terry was pissed off and pacing as he checked his phone. I knew what he
was thinking, but it was too late to drive to Des Moines and catch a flight out. I
shake my keys to catch his attention and we exchange a nod as I toss them his way.
There was only one option. Drive and catch him before we lose him in the
mountains. We had friends out there that he would probably be meeting up with
before he found his mountain cottage that he dreamed up and shared with us before
the deed went down.
Alright, Terry, Bing, you guys hit the road and get to Aurora. Cory, Fizz, you two go
get Carl and get him to trace Donnys moves. Credit cards, cell phone, everything.
They gave me a funny look but there wasnt much time to explain all the details.
Carl has all our shiton file. I had him do it before I even asked you guys to
help. Yall are my best friends, I meant for it to be in case we got into trouble, but
now Im glad I did it cause of Donny. Chop, chop; lets fuckin go! Just go tell Carl
that Donny went AWOL and hell know what to do. Im going to see Mr. Bentley. As
I said those last words the hair stood up on the back of my neck. This was the last
thing I wanted to do. I knew nothing good would come of it, but I somewhat felt
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responsible for the group even though Terry had gotten us into this mess. I also
knew I had the best chance of getting through to him out of any of us.
Mr. Bentley was one of the foremen on Hatfields property and he found out
about our little operation. He usually left us to work and didnt check up on us, but
of course eventually he stumbled upon our extra drainage pipe leading to the panic
room. It was large enough to crawl through, and led to a small chamber behind one
of the walls. This is usually a quick addition that we can bury but Mr. Bentley had
caught on to Terrys extra breaks and decided to keep an eye on him. As far as I am
concerned Terrys dumbass is what caused all of this in the first place, but pointing
fingers does no good.
Mr. Bentley was a stern boss, yetdidnt seem like he had ever swung a
hammer. The guy wouldnt even tell us his first name. For someone who has never
worked a hard day in his life, he sure could bark some orders. Hes got this creepy
way of talking to you and looks down upon us like were workhorses or something.
Always having something to say about us. I can hear it now:
I encourage you all to take a moment and evaluate your lives. Take a look at my
Malabar chestnut, my dear boys. Pachira aquatica commonly known as the money
tree. Name originating from a tale of a poor man praying for money who found the
odd plant instead, took it as an omen and sold them as the seeds grew. I have no
sympathy for the poor men of the world. They have yet to recognize their omen is all.
This was his way of telling us that he was better than us. It wouldnt matter if
we had bigger bank accounts than the guy, he would still look down upon us. Some
people are just unreachable and often become unfathomable as friends. I often
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wanted to let him know how we felt about him, but knew that my uncle would have
no power to save my job. He was given pretty much everything he had from his
father, the owner of our main lumber provider. The guy was five years older than us
but treated us as though we were children.
You sure you want to go alone? I got your back man.
Bing didnt have to say it. I knew he had my back. I knew they all did. I had
to go on my own though. I had to deal with him. I couldnt kill the guy, but I knew
we also couldnt cover enough of Donnys debt to keep his mouth shut. We all had to
sacrifice half of the last job just to keep Mr. Bentley quite after he discovered our
extra additions to the homes we had been constructing. Hatfields was supposed to
be our retirement, but with Mr. Bentley added to the equation we had to settle with
less.
----
Chap four: The Pour
The drive to Mr. Bentleys estate was a trip I had made many times before,
but never with so much animosity. There were few words that caught Mr. Bentleys
attention more than money and dont have. I could have told him I killed his dog
in the driveway, or that I had messed around with his wife and he wouldnt even
blink. Telling him Donny wasnt going to be dropping off any money would be
worse news to deliver than a doctor diagnosing him with cancer. After driving a
good 20 minutes and then navigating the maze of gravel roads on my way into the
western outskirts of Waukee, I pulled in between the two 15 foot brick towers
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adorned with massive bronze letter Bs holding the steel gate as it opens. He
wasnt expecting me, but for some reason I felt like he knew I was coming.
I had barely lifted the knocker and the door swung open. An awkward
looking man curled his mustache and adjusted his monocle with a smirk across his
face. His suit was a classic black with a lime green pocket square embroidered with
a white, Old-English type letter B matching the B on his top hat.
Mr. Bentleys got you lookin like a damned fool, Jeeves.
Even in the midst of such a terrible situation, I couldnt help but give Jarred
some grief. As Mr. Bentleys right hand man and butler, Jarred didnt have much
freedom with his attire.
Please refrain from expelling further insults in my direction, as my attire is made
with the finest quality and materials available. Furthermore, your attempt to
degrade me by use of a stereotypical stewards name comes without reaction nor
reward.
His smirk never fades and he swings his far arm in front of him motioning my
welcome. Even with his inviting movements I felt the knot in my stomach move to
my throat.
Youre starting to even sound like him, Jarred. Scary
The Good Sir awaits you in his study.
I always hated the way Mr. Bentley had Jarred call him The Good Sir. Like
this somehow made him a good person. Jarred walked me down the hall to a pair of
large oak doors with the Bentley B carved intricately along the trim. A few men
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with British accents voices traveled down an adjoining hallway as Jarred gave a
quick, single knock, a voice boomed from behind the doors.
One moment, please.
I took a look down the hall to see where the voices I was hearing were
originating. The white glow and flicker of a T.V. lit the hallway and the room at the
end, although I couldnt see the occupants or what was playing. I clear my throat
trying to produce enough self-assurance to give off a semi-believable confidence to
portray in front of Mr. Bentley. A moment later a small boy peeks his head around
the corner at the end of the long Persian rug and stares, saying nothing. I give him a
little wave, but it went unreturned. Mr. Bentleys son has always been shy to us
whenever we had the rare need to visit.
Let me tell you about Hatchet Harry. Once there was this geezer called Smithy
Robinson, who worked for Harry. It was rumoured that he was on the take. Harry's
invited Smithy 'round for explanation. Smithy didn't do a very good job. Within a
minute, Harry's lost his rag. Reached out for the nearest thing at hand, which
happened to be a 15-inch black rubber cock. He's then proceeded to batter poor
Smithy to death with it. Now, that was seen as a pleasant way to go. Hence, Hatchet
Harry is the man you pay if you owe.
As I began to recognize the voice I realized what movie was playing. The
movie was a bit more violent and adult themed than I would have allowed an eight-
year-old to watch, but I knew I had no place preaching morals to a man who held my
liberty over the fires of hell. It was unnerving how much Bacons words held weight
in my situation. Hence, Mr. Bentley is the man you pay if you owe.
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Enteeeeer
The lights that hung from the ceiling illuminated most of the room except for
just behind Mr. Bentleys desk. His hands folded sitting on the desk were the only
things visible besides a faint outline of his shadowy figure.
Mr. Ben, what a pleasant surprise. I was expecting the indubitably pleasurable
presence of Mr. Donny yesterday evening but have yet to hear from him. Of course
it would be ridiculous for me to presume that Mr. Bing has misinformed me of Mr.
Donnys under-the-weather state, but seeing you here tonight raises all sorts of
questions, Mr. Ben. What on Earth has caused this unusual circumstance my dear
boy?
I knew that it was very important to answer Mr. Bentley in subtle way, and to
make sure not to seem apologetic or aggressive. Basically, I had to walk on eggshells
and cook an omelet for him at the same time. You cant just say youre sorry, or
come without some kind of bribe, reward, or solution for him. Even then, most
attempts are futile due to his lack of sympathy and empathy, and abundance of
apathy and antipathy. Its like trying to go to the butcher for bread and the baker for
beef. His attitude can change faster than the weather during an Iowa spring. Hell
be all sunshine and then drop to 30 and start snowing on your ass. He obviously
knew the assassin was long gone, but Mr. Bentleys stubbornness would never allow
him to admit or speak of the hired gun. A failure in his eyes, and thus nonexistent.
Before you attempt to elucidate Donnys unfortunate overdue payment, I would
like to offer you a cocktail. Whiskey, I presume, as usual?
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Every time I met with Mr. Bentley he insisted I indulge on the sweet nectar of
the gods with him. Which of course was usually a wonderful treat considering his
impressive collection, not to mention now was not the time to turn down his
hospitality. I knew he would have found it rude if I had declined so I agreed with a
smile and a nod. As he stood and made his way around the desk I noticed he was
limping slightly on his left leg. Now was no time for asking him questions though,
seeing as there were much larger issues at hand.
Arriving at his ensemble of whiskey, he grabbed a tall, thick crystal decanter
and poured it neat into a couple personalized B cocktail glasses. As he tilted the
container I noticed it wasnt his usual choice. I watched him pour it, wondering if
the brown liquid falling into the glass was some clich ending to my life, eating away
my insides or slowly bringing my heart to a stop. Potassium cyanide may seem far-
fetched, but for a man with as much resources and connections as Mr. Bentley, the
idea became eerily convincing.
-----
Chap five:A Friend From Clive
Please, have a seat Mr. Ben. There is much to discuss I presume, seeing as things
havent gone accordingly. I can only imagine the unfortunate news you have come
to share with me, and I am dreading its arrival as much as I desire the retreat of my
ignorance on the matter. What say you?
I didnt want to think of Donny as our Mr. Orange but everything that had
happened has made me think that we were being played from the beginning. As I
made my way to one of the chairs in front of Mr. Bentleys desk I thought to myself, I
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swear to God I will put a bullet in that guy if he thinks he can just pull a fast one on us
like this. What the hell was Donny thinking? I could picture him laying, bleeding on
the ground; I had just popped Bing and Terry after defending him and listening to
his undeserving confession of his deception. After becoming close friends with
Donny over the last couple years, his misleading us was almost equivalent to the
surprise Mr. White was revealed.
Mr. Bentley I
Ive been reserving this batch for a special occasion. Highland Park aged 40 years.
Quite an extravagant whiskey I must say, and a benevolent gift from my dear father.
I have found it to be one of the finer additions to my collection. Now, tell me Mr.
Ben, as you sit there lacking a briefcase of money for me from our dear friend Mr.
Donny, what exactly you intend to speak on his behalf with me about to relieve my
apprehension and desire to react. The robbed that smiles, steals something from
the thief Mr. Ben.
Mr. Bentley omits a closed-mouth chuckle as he returns to his position
behind the desk, this time leaning into the light and emphasizing his eye contact
with raised eyebrows.
Likewise, I smile, and bask in the hilarity brought about by the unintentional pun in
Mr. Williams quote. You being a crook, I hardly consider what you own to be
rightfully yours, so recant any thoughts you have of me being a thief at once. Mr.
Donny has taken something of mine. Whether you believe it is rightfully my
possession or not is unfortunately inadequate reasoning on your part. Unlike Ms.
Desdemonas father, I will not allow you to steal from me and merely accept it as
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fate. As a victim who can smile about my losses, it is not only because I am superior
to the thief, it is also due to my knowledge of the impending remuneration owed to
me that you and your friends have justacquired Yes I regret to inform you that it
is now your trepidation.
Mr. Bentley I understand that we
Agreements were made and I expected them to be met with the same veneration as
any, Mr. Ben. Look at my smile, and realize I have not the time or the patience to
allow myself to pout
As I stared at him, I tried to figure out if he was going to let me talk, or if he
was simply playing games with me. I knew he wasnt looking for an explanation or
some kind of plan to get him his money, but I wasnt about to yell at him and ask him
flat outWhat the hell do you want!? That would only spark the uncivil side of Mr.
Bentley that I had been trying to avoid. His volume was slowly rising, with the
words quickening and tone becoming filled with discontent, and his temperament
becoming tenser.
I
What do you think of the Highland Park, Mr. Ben? I have yet to see you sample your
dram even though I have always known you to tipple
His face transformed from a look of seriousness seldom found outside of a
hospital to a disgruntled, almost insulted look. Either he saw my look of frustration
as he interrupted me again, or he was displeased with my slow acceptance of his
offering. I put my suspicions and fears aside and sipped the brown numbing liquid.
It was hard to enjoy with so much tension building between the reluctant host and
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myself. I dont know if it was just the moment causing my taste buds to reject the
fine liquor, but it tasted like Ten-High or Beams Eight Star.
Its good
Mr. Bentley leaned closer over his desk and raised an eyebrow. The fear of
being poisoned quickly made its way back into my mind and I couldnt tell if it was
the condensation or if it was my hands getting clammy around the glass.
But Id be lying if I told you it was great. Not much better than a well.
As the words fell out of my mouth I wished for their unnoticed return.
Despite my best efforts, I probably ended up insulting the man who could bring my
life crumbling to the ground. There were certainly a number of lies or things I could
have said just to keep the conversation going and keep the tone as civil as possible.
What a wonderfultreat Good Sir! Thank you so very much. I detect notes of pine and
eucalyptus oil but also slight notes of fruit and leafy greenness, developing with gentle
smoke. What a long finish as well! The zesty, bitter oak finish dances perfectly with
perfumy notes accenting the end. Hear, hear!A true ballet atop my taste buds.
I appreciate your honesty Mr. Ben. You have a notable palate and apparently
enough courage to stand your ground when confronted. As I witnessed your
intellectualization I had wondered if you would be able to continue your charade
and convince me of your faux calmness
I lifted the glass and took another sip, feeling as though at this point, a
poisoning would be one of the less vehement ways of leaving the world at Mr.
Bentleys hand. Staring at the strange man through the side of the glass, I wondered
exactly what he was getting at. Where was he going with this and why did he have
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those damned eyebrows raised again? I wanted to grab the gold-plated stapler off
his desk and stop him from continuing his overconfident and annoying facial
formations.
What you have sampled is in fact a horrible excuse for a single-malt. Drumguish
might become palatable if it were given the proper time to age, but to my dismay it
has been bottled and shipped out far too young. Alas, I cannot simply throw the
whiskey away. It was an investment I had made without first researching, and has
continued haunt me as the pallet of bottles sit in my basement cellar. Sometimes
when the price is too fair, the end results are not
I was thoroughly confused at this point, and wondered just what Mr. Bentley
had been implying. I began to wonder if he was sending metaphors my way or
toying with me to get something out of me. I had come to simply inform him that we
were in the process of finding Donny, and that his money would be delivered. How
much more bullshit would I have to listen to before I could leave and actually take
care of business?
Similarly, our dear friend Mr. Donny, despite his attempts to become more than
what he was, was not given the proper time to age. This immaturity is an issue and
unfortunately I do not have the same patience with my cohorts as I do with my
whiskey
Mr. Bentley had been shaking his head and sticking out his bottom lip as
though it were some sort of silly conversation with a toddler. As an added touch of
awkwardness, Mr. Bentley had started pacing around his desk in slow circles,
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making eye contact an impossible feat. His fingertips bounced off of each other in
front of him with each word exiting his mouth.
Well get you the money.
I spat out the sentence quickly hoping to avoid another interrupted attempt.
It pretty much went unnoticed despite a quick glance in my direction as he rounded
his desk and returned to his chair.
As I was saying, unfortunately, I do not have the same patience with my cohorts
as I do with my whiskey, and therefore I will be unable to accept any recompense
from you or the other parties not here with us tonight. It seems as though we have a
mutual friend that we, or at least you, were unaware of. The other night as Mr. Carl
was watching his little screens, as he does so vigilantly, he noticed a blip veer off in
the wrong direction. By wrong direction I of course mean away from me.
How the fuck do you know Carl? The simple thought ran through my head a
few hundred times before I mustered the courage to speak up. Of course, before I
could fully open my mouth Mr. Bentley interjected with his own question.
How is it thatyou intended on procuring my imbursement Mr. Ben? Are you going
to pursue Mr. Donny through the mountains and convince him to adhere to your
request?
I didnt really know what to say. I sat confused and flustered, trying to figure
out where and when Carl and Mr. Bentley would have met. Carl spent most of his
time online in fantasy worlds, discussing movie tropes and Easter Eggs found in
video games with fellow nerds. Like a smack across the face I realized the exact
moment in time that the two odd fellows had met. Mr. Bentley owned the strip mall
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in which Carl had rented space in for his computer repair business. As I tried to
wrap my mind around what Mr. Bentley had just informed me of, he placed three
small wooden boxes, each about the size of a spectacles case on the corner of the
desk closest to me.
A gift.
------
Chap six: Hooligans and Hicks
As I ponder reaching for the boxes I switch between looking into Mr.
Bentleys cold eyes and the miniature cherry oak chests. There are many ways this
could go, but I unfortunately only have one version to tell. The truth. I was scared
shitless. There could be anything in these boxes. A syringe to inject myself with a
poison for the sick freak to watch me die after he pulls up a video screen of my mom
tied to a chair. It could possibly be a bullet to load into his working 1860 Colt Army
Model sitting in between himself and I. If I could only be so lucky Would I cringe
at the site of a blade? Or would I be caught off guard by a puff of toxic smoke or a
small explosion of shrapnel into my face?
You do realize that I have recognized you all for exactly what you are. You are
nothing but hooligans and hicks, birthed into the world by whore mothers and
beggar fathers. Most lessons I try to teach you boys go overlooked unaccepted and
disregarded as verbal excrement. You, my dear boy, Mr. Ben, dont know just how
lucky you are that I have the slightest sliver of hope for you. The man sent to your
home tonight was never there to harm you. Let it be known that a friend of yours is
not who they seem.
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What do you mean? Which friend?
I was surprised to get two full questions out of my mouth but at this point I
figured Mr. Bentley was done messing with me. He nudged the boxes a little closer
to me and winked. The content of the boxes not only were a stress-inducing
mystery, but the order in which I opened them had me jumping out of my skin. Its
impossible to open three boxes at once in a reasonable manner. I grabbed the
furthest right and proceeded to open it.
What the fuck man Where is he? Is he alive?
I didnt have a clue what to do at this point. I was sitting in front of this
lunatic with my good buddy Donnys finger in it. I knew it was his. Who else has a
French mustache tattooed on their index finger thats associated with Mr. Bentley? I
closed the box and grimaced at the ripe death smell.
Go ahead, open the others. Youll probably find other recognizable features
amongst the contents of their boxesBAM!
He waited a good 15 seconds, which felt like hours, before slamming his fists
on the table.
Open the boxes Mr. Ben! That is not a request!
I reach for the other two. I open them each and stare emotionless at the
patch of skin with a skull tattoo that Cory had on his leg, and the left ear of Fizz with
all the piercings included. This son of a bitch better kill me quick, or hes going to see
what pain is. As if he were reading my mind, Jarred opens the large door and lets in
a new guest who did not come as a surprise.
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-------
Chap seven: Not Carl, Kevin
Carl walked through the door with a different stride and demeanor than I
was used to. I didnt even recognize him almost, except for his slicked hair and
glasses. I didnt even know what to say to him. There arent words for betrayals like
the one Carl has bestowed up me. The whole crew was led astray because of the
people I had trusted. Its hard to even blame the murderers of my friends when all I
have to blame it on is my own damn idiocy. I trusted too easily, and now the people
I loved are who were punished.
Carl what the fuck man? What did you do? How could you do
He held up his hand and shook his head giving me a very loud tsk sound to
shut me up. We had been so much on the same page the entire time I had known
him that I never once questioned where his loyalties lay.
Please do not call me that ridiculous name, Mr. Ben. I was merely portraying a
character of academic intelligence and social ignorance to woo you into thinking I
needed a friendship savior. Thank you so verymuch for saving me those
Wednesday nights and taking me bowling. I truly did need saving from my horrible
World of Warcraft addiction.
His sarcasm was thick with slyness and hauntingly similar to Mr. Bentleys.
What a coincidence we happened to cross paths thatday in Best Buy, when the
bully was picking on me! Please, Mr. Ben, try to save a little face and listen to what
my father has to say. We are just now getting to the most interesting part of the
evening! By the way, its Kevin not Carl. Care for a cigar?
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I was numb. Thats the only way to describe the feeling I had at that moment.
I was dumbfounded by the events of the night and could only sip on the shitty
whiskey provided by my murderous foreman and stare at the deceiving little
shithead that probably pulled the trigger each time as he puffed on a fat stogie. I
stood up to accept one of the others he was offering me, apparently a little too fast.
Whoa there, Mr. Ben. Please make all metacarpals visible, thank yoooou.
I smiled and slowed my stroll showing my palms wide and empty. Giving the
newly-known Kevin a slight bow and a questioning nod of the head I proceeded with
my approach to accept yet another unspoken unwanted gift, this time from the
source of all my hatred and pain.
There are few things in this world that I would care for more than a fine cigar right
now Mr. Kevin. I do declare your backstabbing tomfoolery has pulled a fast one on
me. Slipped right on by me. What do I have the pleasure of filling my lungs with this
evening?
Well there Mr. Ben, you wouldnt happen to be trying to mock the way me and my
father spea
CRACK!
As I reached for the cigar I popped the retractable plastic pistol out of my
sweatshirt sleeve and put a solid Kevlar bullet through his sternum and into his
heart. The piece of shit coughed blood and mouthed bastard before he hit the
ground. The soul of the wretched man left his eyes and blood puddled around his
corpse, soaking the $10,000 white Persian rug in a ruby red. Mr. Bentley slams his
fist on his desk and grabs the Colt off its stand. Outraged he points it at me debating
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shooting me down right then and there. Mr. Bentley of course needs to put in a few
words though making it as dramatic as possible, drooling in rage as he inches his
way towards me.
What have you done!? You could have been part of something very big Mr. Ben!
And now you have thrown it all away to revenge some hooligans and hicks! After I
pour you whiskey and invite you into my home when I could have just killed you like
the rest of those maggots! The money could have been falling from the trees for you
my boy, and now look at you. Thinking that somehow you killing that bastard son of
mine is going to somehow avenge your crew and their untimely passing? Well its
been an extremely fun experience working with you over the years, Mr. Ben, but
unfortunately you have come underprepared with a single shot trick weapo
Crack!
I have two sleeves Mr. Bentley.
--------