passing streets. He laughs, then glances ahead at the driver.
“Carl, what do you think of this guy?”
“I say pop ’im in the head like they did in
Goodfellas.”
“Good idea,” the man beside you says with a grin. “You see that movie?”
You nod. You’re starting to believe this guy is serious and you’re thinking about grabbing the gun from his hands.
It might not be impossible. He’s holding it loosely, too casually
.
But another thought stops you.
What about Lisa and the kids?
What are you doing, Michael?
Don’t do anything stupid don’t try anything just calm down and stay relaxed and try to get out of this car alive
.
“Bodies get stowed away in trunks. Happens all the time. Right, Carl?”
The driver laughs and nods.
“Now here’s something. I could give you a little reminder of tonight. A shot in your thigh. Nothing too harmful. If you’re lucky you won’t bleed to death. Sometimes that happens, you know. But something that will make you remember this night.”
“I’ll remember,” you say, the panic rising from deep inside you.
“He says he’ll remember. What do you think of that, Carl?”
“They don’t always,” the driver says.
“Now Carl here, he prefers to simply beat the snot out of people. He likes getting his hands messy. Sorta like a mechanic doing an oil change who has oil dripping from his knuckles. The way he makes you remember—well, the mirror will do that for you.”
Carl doesn’t say anything and you know they’re not joking.
“Where are you from?” the Asian asks.
You breathe in deeply and can’t keep your body from shaking.
“Chicago.”
“Chicago. Chi-caugh-go. Da Bears. Huh? Da Bulls.”
You nod and keep looking at the gun.
Grab it. Just grab it and shove it in his face
.
“You seem like a good guy. Right, Carl?”
“Seems pretty stupid to me,” the driver says.
“But hey—if J picked you up, she must’ve done it for a reason. Maybe she was feeling charitable. Right?”
You nod.
The guy’s face tightens, and his eyes sharpen as he studies you critically.
“I don’t know why in God’s name J decided to pick you up, but she did. And I’ll just tell you something. You think you’re scared right now? You don’t want to mess with J. That woman is seriously demented. And I mean seriously.”
He looks ahead at the driver and then seems to regain his focus.
“Do you understand that the best thing that can happen to you is for you to just disappear? And there’s only one way I can
make
you disappear. Got that?”
You nod.
“So, now, let’s say we let you go. You’re going to leave J alone, right? I mean, she has enough distractions in her life without someone else bothering her. Right?”
Again you nod in agreement.
“You a resourceful man?”
“Sure,” you say.
Just let me out of this car
.
“Carl, this a good place?”
The driver nods. “Sure is. The next five or six blocks take the prize.”
“Well, let’s see just how resourceful you are.”
The car slows down and you look around. You see a wall of graffiti where the car stops.
“Get out,” the guy says.
A torn-down building to your right tells you it might be hard getting a cab.
“Here?” you ask, suddenly afraid of opening the door.
“You
so
want to get out of this car and away from me. You don’t want to see me again. Got that? Not me, not J, not anybody else. Not tonight. Understand?”
He’s holding the gun in your face again. You nod and open the car door. The night is cool and your legs feel stiff.
The car rushes away and you’re left in a silent, dimly lit block somewhere in New York.
Somewhere in a very bad part of New York.
You’re not in Soho anymore.
Y OU WOULD BE A LOT MORE SCARED if you weren’t so drunk.
Maybe drunk is not the right word. You’re above the legal limit, sure, but you can also walk in a straight line. At least when nobody is looking.
The reality is not only that you’re in a run-down and desolate part
“Carl, what do you think of this guy?”
“I say pop ’im in the head like they did in
Goodfellas.”
“Good idea,” the man beside you says with a grin. “You see that movie?”
You nod. You’re starting to believe this guy is serious and you’re thinking about grabbing the gun from his hands.
It might not be impossible. He’s holding it loosely, too casually
.
But another thought stops you.
What about Lisa and the kids?
What are you doing, Michael?
Don’t do anything stupid don’t try anything just calm down and stay relaxed and try to get out of this car alive
.
“Bodies get stowed away in trunks. Happens all the time. Right, Carl?”
The driver laughs and nods.
“Now here’s something. I could give you a little reminder of tonight. A shot in your thigh. Nothing too harmful. If you’re lucky you won’t bleed to death. Sometimes that happens, you know. But something that will make you remember this night.”
“I’ll remember,” you say, the panic rising from deep inside you.
“He says he’ll remember. What do you think of that, Carl?”
“They don’t always,” the driver says.
“Now Carl here, he prefers to simply beat the snot out of people. He likes getting his hands messy. Sorta like a mechanic doing an oil change who has oil dripping from his knuckles. The way he makes you remember—well, the mirror will do that for you.”
Carl doesn’t say anything and you know they’re not joking.
“Where are you from?” the Asian asks.
You breathe in deeply and can’t keep your body from shaking.
“Chicago.”
“Chicago. Chi-caugh-go. Da Bears. Huh? Da Bulls.”
You nod and keep looking at the gun.
Grab it. Just grab it and shove it in his face
.
“You seem like a good guy. Right, Carl?”
“Seems pretty stupid to me,” the driver says.
“But hey—if J picked you up, she must’ve done it for a reason. Maybe she was feeling charitable. Right?”
You nod.
The guy’s face tightens, and his eyes sharpen as he studies you critically.
“I don’t know why in God’s name J decided to pick you up, but she did. And I’ll just tell you something. You think you’re scared right now? You don’t want to mess with J. That woman is seriously demented. And I mean seriously.”
He looks ahead at the driver and then seems to regain his focus.
“Do you understand that the best thing that can happen to you is for you to just disappear? And there’s only one way I can
make
you disappear. Got that?”
You nod.
“So, now, let’s say we let you go. You’re going to leave J alone, right? I mean, she has enough distractions in her life without someone else bothering her. Right?”
Again you nod in agreement.
“You a resourceful man?”
“Sure,” you say.
Just let me out of this car
.
“Carl, this a good place?”
The driver nods. “Sure is. The next five or six blocks take the prize.”
“Well, let’s see just how resourceful you are.”
The car slows down and you look around. You see a wall of graffiti where the car stops.
“Get out,” the guy says.
A torn-down building to your right tells you it might be hard getting a cab.
“Here?” you ask, suddenly afraid of opening the door.
“You
so
want to get out of this car and away from me. You don’t want to see me again. Got that? Not me, not J, not anybody else. Not tonight. Understand?”
He’s holding the gun in your face again. You nod and open the car door. The night is cool and your legs feel stiff.
The car rushes away and you’re left in a silent, dimly lit block somewhere in New York.
Somewhere in a very bad part of New York.
You’re not in Soho anymore.
Y OU WOULD BE A LOT MORE SCARED if you weren’t so drunk.
Maybe drunk is not the right word. You’re above the legal limit, sure, but you can also walk in a straight line. At least when nobody is looking.
The reality is not only that you’re in a run-down and desolate part
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