Big Trouble (15 page)

“Eighteen fucking
dollars
?” he said. “What kinda bar
is
this?”

“Business very bad,” repeated Leo.

“Is bad location,” pointed out John.

“You want the sack to hold the eighteen dollars?” asked Eddie.

“You don't shut up,” said Snake, “I'm gonna shoot
you
.”

Snake pondered some more. He figured there was something going on here . . . these four guys all standing by the door . . . he just couldn't figure out
what
. He looked at the guys more carefully. His gaze rested on Arthur. He noticed that Arthur was wearing nice clothes and a gold watch.

“You,” said Snake, gesturing at Arthur with the gun. “Gimme your watch.”

Arthur took off his watch and tossed it to Snake, who caught it and held it up to his panty hose for a closer look. It looked like real gold. Snake perked up.

“Now gimme your wallet,” said.

Arthur extracted his wallet from his back pocket and tossed it to Snake, who thumbed it open and saw a wad of twenties. Stuffing the wallet in his pocket, he looked at Arthur. Snake was putting the clues together . . . a guy in nice clothes, with a wad of cash, in a shithole like this . . . no question about it, this guy was a drug dealer. Maybe even a
kingpin
. Which meant that . . .

“What's in there?” he asked Arthur, pointing to the suitcase.

“A bomb,” said Arthur.

“Yeah, right,” said Snake.

“Really!” said Arthur, who had been a world-class snitch in junior high. “It's a bomb! These guys are Russians, and they sell bombs!”

Snake looked at John. John rolled his eyes to indicate what a ridiculous idea this was.

“Bombs,”
he said, snorting. “
Pfft!
No bombs! Is bar.”

“Is bar,” agreed Leo.

Snake looked at the suitcase. On the TV, Jerry Springer was saying that, in a relationship, people need to compromise.

“Eddie,” said Snake. “Open the suitcase.” "

“Dammit, Snake,” said Eddie, “you said my name!”

“Well, you just said
my
name, you moron,” said Snake.

“Snake ain't a name,” said Eddie. “Snake is a
nick
name.”

“Before we criticize others,” Jerry Springer was saying, “we need to take a look in the mirror at . . .”

Snake shot Jerry Springer, who disappeared in a violent implosion of glass shards. Everybody, Snake included, flinched at the gunshot; Arthur made a whimpering sound. It was Snake's first real effort to shoot anything, and he was pretty surprised to have hit the target, which was now a smoking hole in the plastic TV cabinet. It made him feel good; he took it as an indication that he was well suited to this new line of work.

“Now,” said Snake to Eddie,
“open the damn suitcase
.
”

Muttering, Eddie pulled the panty-hose waist off of the lower part of his face and shuffled back around the bar to the suitcase, which was lying on its side. He fumbled with the latches and finally got them unfastened. With his hand on the lid, he looked up at Snake.

“What if it
is
a bomb?” he asked.

“Open it,” said Snake.

Gingerly, Eddie opened the lid and looked inside.

“What is it?” said Snake.

“Beats the shit outta me,” said Eddie. “It ain't money, tell you that.”

Snake stepped closer and looked at the contents of the suitcase. He couldn't tell what it was, either. It looked kind of like a garbage disposal. But he knew it had to be something important. That much he knew. Maybe it was some kind of drug container. Or maybe emeralds were in there; somebody told Snake once that drug kingpins always had emeralds. Whatever it was, Snake saw this as an opportunity, after a lifetime of being a low-life scum, to show some initiative, to
do
something with his sorry self, to move up the ladder to the level of big-time scum. But how should he handle it? He knew he needed to think, and think hard. He aimed the gun at Leo, behind the bar.

“Gimme a drink,” he said.

Leo poured a vodka and set it on the bar. Snake picked it up and attempted to slug it down, but, because he was wearing panty hose on his head, much of it dribbled down the front of his T-shirt. On the floor, John snorted. Snake whirled and pointed the gun at him.

“You think that's funny?” he said.

“No,” said John.

“All right,” said Snake. “Here's what we're gonna do. You got a car?” He was looking at Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

“Outside here?”

Arthur nodded again.

“Gimme your car keys.”

Arthur tossed Snake the keys.

“OK,” said Snake. “Eddie, I want you . . .”

“Stop sayin' my name!” said Eddie.

“OK,
whoever
you are, latch up the suitcase,” said Snake, “We're goin' for a ride. You're goin' with us.”

He pointed the gun at Arthur.

“You don't want me!” said Arthur. “You want these other guys! They're Russians! They sell missiles! There's ten thousand dollars in that briefcase there!”

“Yeah,
right,
” said Snake. These drug kingpins would try to tell you anything.

“No!” said Arthur. “I'm
telling
you, there's ten thou—”

“Shut up, asshole,” said Snake, aiming the gun at Arthur.

Arthur shut up.

“OK, Ed . . .
you
,” said Snake. “Pick up the suitcase.”

Eddie grabbed the handle and heaved. The suitcase barely moved.

“It's too heavy,” said Eddie.

“Do I gotta do
everything
?” asked Snake. He stepped over and yanked on the suitcase handle and
damn
that thing was heavy. Snake pondered for a moment, then remembered who was carrying the suitcase when he came in.

He kicked Puggy, who was still curled fetally on the floor, hoping to be forgotten.

“Pick up the suitcase,” said Snake.

Slowly, Puggy stood up. His nose had bled a streak down the side of his cheek. He picked up the suitcase with one hand and stood holding it.

Snake turned to Leo. “You,” he said. “Get back around here and go sit next to your friend.”

Warily, Leo came around the bar. As he passed Snake, Snake slugged him on the back of the head with the barrel of the gun. Snake thought this would cause him to collapse to the ground, unconscious, because that's what always happened to people on TV when they got slugged on the head with guns. Instead, the gun went off, shooting a bullet into the ceiling, and Leo lurched forward, clasping his hand to his head and going “OW!”

Snake, trying to act as though this was exactly what he had wanted to happen, said, “That'll teach you to hit people with bats. Now siddown with your friend there.”

Leo sat on the floor next to John.

Snake, in his most menacing voice, told them, “If you assholes try to call the cops after we leave, next bullet goes through your head.”

This threat did not make logical sense, but John and Leo chose not to point this out.

Eddie shuffled over and put his head close to Snake's so that they could have a confidential conference, panty hose to panty hose. Eddie whispered, “Where the
fuck
're we goin'?”

“That guy's house,” whispered Snake, indicating Arthur.

“Why the
fuck
're we doin' that?” whispered Eddie.

“Because,” said Snake, “this here is a drug kingpin, and we got 'im by the
balls
, and he has somethin' good in that suitcase, which we are gonna find out what it is, and I bet he got a lot more good stuff at his house.” Snake knew, from
Miami Vice,
that drug kingpins lived in big, modern houses with stashes of valuable drugs and cash money. Also fine-looking women who were attracted to powerful lawless men with guns.

“Snake,” whispered Eddie, “we got the guy's wallet, we got the other guy's eighteen dollars. Let's just get the fuck
out
of here.”

“No way, man,” hissed Snake. “This is our
chance
. We're
not
gonna blow this. And you are
not
gonna punk out on me now.”

“Oh, man,” said Eddie, shaking his head, so that his panty-hose legs flopped back and forth.

Snake grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open. He pointed the gun at Puggy and Arthur.

“Move,” he said.

Arthur said, “Listen, you don't want me, you want these guys here, they're Russians and they have ten th . . .”

Arthur flinched backward violently as Snake stepped toward him, raising the gun.

“I tole you to shut
up
, asshole,” said Snake. You had to be tough with these kingpins; it was the only way they'd respect you. “OK, let's go
now
.”

And so they exited the Jolly Jackal—first Arthur, limping on the toe that Puggy had dropped the bomb on; then Puggy, lugging the suitcase; then Snake, holding the gun; then Eddie, still wagging his sad rabbit ears.

After the door closed behind them, there was a moment of silence in the Jolly Jackal. Finally, John, sitting on the floor next to the briefcase containing ten thousand dollars in cash, said to Leo,
“Kakimi chertyami oni viigrali holodnuyu voinu?”

This translates roughly to: “How the
hell
did these people win the Cold War?”

ELIOT was on his sofa watching a rerun of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and eating Cheez-Its from the box when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he said.

“Hey,” said Anna, “it's Anna. Are you busy?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Eliot, “I'm working on a six-figure ad campaign for a very important client.”

“Oh, gosh, I'm sorry,” said Anna, “I'll . . .”

“Not really,” said Eliot. “I'm watching a rerun of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and eating Cheez-Its from the box.”

“Wow. I've heard about you swinging bachelors.”

“And that's not all. After
Buffy,
I'm gonna log on to America Online and see if I received any email from total strangers wanting to make me rich or send me pictures of themselves naked.”

“Well, I won't keep you . . .”

“No! Keep me! Keep me!”

“Well, I wanted to say, first, thanks again for lunch.”

“Hey, any time. In fact, right now! You wanna get lunch again right now?”

Anna laughed. “I'd love to, but right now I'm trying to be a good mother, which is the other reason I called. I'm trying to track down Jenny. She was meeting your son at CocoWalk for that stupid Killer game, and she was gonna call me and let me know when to pick her up, but I haven't heard from her, and I was wondering if Matt called you.”

“Of
course
not. Matt only calls when he needs the car. Which he did earlier tonight, to go kill Jenny. He's supposed to be back”—Eliot looked at his watch—“any minute now.”

“Well, could you let me know when you hear from him?”

“Sure,” said Eliot. He was thrilled to have an excuse to call her.

“I hate to be a hovering mother,” said Anna, “but I'm a little worried, what with the stuff that's happened lately. Jenny's usually good about calling.”

“Well,” said Eliot, “it's a mother's job to hover. But I'm sure the kids're OK. I mean, they're at CocoWalk, there's lots of people around. How much trouble can they get into?”

Jenny panted her prayer as Matt, stumbling in the darkness of the vacant lot, pulled her by the arm through the weeds, away from the sound of the popping gun. They came to a sidewalk along a narrow back street. Matt stopped and looked back.