Dealing with assholes can be a cross to bear. In the Gutter, that cross gets doubled.
Paid Love by Mike Loniewski
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Ellis climbs off me
looking like he’s heartbroken. He throws his jeans back on with that obnoxious
belt buckle- a golden ten point buck the size of a dinner plate jangling as he
goes.
"Okay, cowboy,"
I say. “I have to head out.”
"To someone
else," he says into his chest.
Ellis has grown some
feelings. That’s never a healthy thing in my line of work.
“There won’t be another
like you,” I tell him.
He gives a shy smile. It'd
be cute if he wasn't so fucked up. "I promise," he says. "I
ain't got much, but I could take care of you."
“You already do,” I say. I
peck him on the cheek and take the money from his hand.
Out on the main floor the
machines are jingling and flashing to get your attention. Kevin's at a bank of
slot machines. His fat ass is all squished up in a tiny seat for a Michael
Jackson-themed one. He gives me a double take as an electronic ditty of
‘Thriller’ chimes.
"You didn't shoot up,
did you? Damn it, I told you you need to be straight tonight."
"Relax, big fella.
I'm always clean."
Kevin tries to lean back
in the chair. “Bo call you yet?”
“No,” I say, “But he will.
Thursdays are his night.”
Kevin smiles. “I’m sure it
is. You keep him in that car tonight,” he tells me. "If he's not in the
car with his pants down, it's gonna be a lot harder to get this done.”
My phone buzzes and I see
the text from Bo.
I start walking and I hear
Kevin struggling out of the chair.
"Hold it, now,"
he snorts. "Where-"
“We’ll be in the parking
deck,” I say. “Just make sure you don’t
screw me on this.”
***
I’m in Bo’s SUV leaning
over his lap when a shadow falls across the driver's side. The gun taps the
window and Bo glances over.
"Zip up, will
ya," says Kevin. "Not everyone wants to see your dick."
Bo straps up and peeks out
the window. "Kevin? Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing?"
"Open the lock."
It clicks and Kevin stuffs his fat ass into the back seat, huffing and puffing.
Bo's seat keeps jolting forward, the truck rocking side to side from the
struggle.
Bo gives a sigh. “What are
you doing, Kevin? Goddamn it."
Kevin presses the gun to
the back of his head. “I gave you the chance to do the right thing, to cut me
in. But, you did what you always do.”
"Jesus Christ. This
is about the contract?”
Kevin bursts. “You fuckin'
know it is! Now drive.”
Bo looks over to me.
"Just let her go,
Kev, huh? She won't say nothing about this."
Kevin snarls. “She's
already in this.”
***
The drive takes us to some
lousy brick building tucked between chop shops and liquor stores. The front
door looks like it's been battered in a few times. Inside's an office with that
shitty wood paneling and an old carpet that smells like it was flooded with cat
piss.
“Come on,” Kevin says,
choking on his own fat. “Move the goddamn cabinet.”
Bo rocks it back and forth
away from the wall and peels back a strip of old carpet where a floor safe
hides. He starts working the lock and I back against the wall praying for this
shit show to end.
Stacks of cash start
getting tossed out from the safe. Kevin moves in to grab it. There's a flash
and a pop. Kevin grabs his throat. He gurgles and tries to plug the hole with
his fat fingers. Another pop and red blooms from his chest. I look at Bo
holding a smoking pistol that was buried inside the safe.
Kevin falls back. His gun
barks at me and something breaks my hip.
Blood seeps into that
awful carpet and I follow the trail up to the neat little hole torn through my
dress, a dark red pool across my lap. Fuck.
Bo’s shouting as he lifts
me up and I look over to the safe. It's still open and, goddamn, I can still
see cash piled in neat stacks, even more than I imagined. Could have gotten a
new start. Instead, I get a hole blown through my hip.
Bo lays me down in the
back seat of his SUV and climbs in behind the wheel. “Let’s get you outta here,” he says.
Something blasts through
the glass and it shatters like diamonds. Everything rings inside my head. I
look down at my lap and find an ear. I bat it off and see Bo’s head in a
thousand pieces splattered on the windshield.
The back seat door opens
and my white knight is standing there with a smoking double barrel sawed-off
and an obnoxious ten point buck on his crotch."Are you hurt
bad?" Ellis asks.
Nothing makes sense. I'm
shaking.
"Followed you out of
the Casino. I was mad at myself for doing it again. But, then I heard those gun
shots and I knew I'd done the right thing."
I don't say a word. He
moves me to his baby blue Chevy pick up. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he says.
I grab for his arm.
"Wait," I say.
"There's money. Inside.”
Ellis nods and runs, and a
few minutes later he comes back out with a trash bag of cash over his shoulder
like some redneck Santa Claus.
"I'm bleeding
bad," I say.
"I know, Mel,” he
says. “And I'm gonna fix that."
I take his hand, my blood
smearing across it. "I believe you," I say. "But how you gonna fix
this? We can't go to a hospital, Ellis. Not after this."
"My cousin. He'll
help us."
"He's a doctor?"
"No," he says.
"Horse vet."
"Oh," I say.
Hell, you can't have
everything, can you?
