This uses a bit of perspective shift: first to third person. No need to point it out. It was done on purpose. :-) - Cheers
It was that kind of burning hot day where the sun was so hard on you, you didn't want to think much 'cause then you'd think about how hot it was. I was sitting in the shade out in front of the bus station, pouring some river water from a bottle on a bandana that I draped over my head. I didn't dare drink it cause it would make me sick. But I was dying for a drink, just too weak to go get one. I was asking for handouts, my voice was kind of dry and raspy. I wasn't getting much since most of the people out were not in the best of moods. Human kindness seems to be the first garment shed when the heat is on.
The 2:30 bus from Monterey pulled in. That was my best chance of not having to go hungry again that night. People coming fresh off an air-conditioned bus might be wearing some more of their humanity. A teenager pops his head out and looked right past me. I jingled the pennies in my dixie cup. That got his attention.
"Sorry man, no change," he says. He was wearing a faded B.O.C. tee that he probably got from his old man. A voice inside yells for some quarters to play the pinball machine and the kid blankly fishes in his pocket and pulls out a wad of change and bills. Strange how ten bucks in spare starts looking like a fortune when you haven't eaten for a couple of days. Seeing my look, the kid plucks a few pennies and a nickel and tosses them toward my cup, missing it entirely. I ignore the change anyway and just glare at him. He notices me lookin and he kicks over my cup, daring me to do something. I just look down. What can I do? He walks back inside to play with his friends. When he's not looking, I gather the change, even the little fuck's pennies. I'm too hungry to be angry. Hearing the jingle of the pinball inside, I'd love to go inside and hit up the other passengers, but the manager would give me shit for it. And I'm too tired and hungry for shit.
But I digress.
While I was picking up pennies, I notice this shadow comes over me. I look up with my hand outstretched, only to have a nightstick slap it down. I curse the sonofabitch while I hold my hurt hand in the other. I look up and all I see are a couple of dark silhouettes, but I can see enough. It's a couple of cops.
"Skags, Skags, Skags," one of them chides me. I recognized the voice. A nazi prick named Ward. Ward and I have a relationship, had a relationship. He liked to kick my ass and I tried not to hurt much. He'd been leavin me alone pretty much 'cause that other cop, Morrison, she was using me as a snitch and I don't know what she said to him, but he cut me some slack until she got laid up and put in the hospital. That was too bad. Heard she got shot by one her own. If I had any money, I'd put it on Ward to have pulled the trigger. I was sorry to hear that. She'd been nice to me. Gave me food, cut me some slack when I pulled a game here and there, as long as it wasn't on a local. I tried to visit her in the hospital, take her some flowers I found somewhere (O.K., so I stole them.). But they took one look at me and said I couldn't go up. I didn't think they would but it sort of hurt when they just tossed my flowers the minute my back was turned.
But I digress.
"Skags, I thought I warned you about hanging around here."
I thought about it, trying mentally to pick off the places Ward had told me I couldn't go. It was damn near half the town. Didn't help much that he kept changing his mind.
"Sorry, boss," I said. "I'll get a move on."
But Ward wasn't about to let me get off that easy. He never hurt me too bad, not to the point of needing to go to the hospital that is. Not yet anyway. Ward liked to beat up the homeless, didn't matter if it was man, woman, or child. The worse thing was to be his favorite. He wouldn't even bother to try and kick us out of town like the other cops. He'd just come by for his daily fix of 'fun' and you'd be a little worse for it, worse each time, till one day they found your busted body in the grass by the river, or in back of the old Wrigley's plant. I sort of had this really bad feeling, based on the feeling in my bruised guts from my last meeting with Ward, that I had become his new favorite. I think maybe he felt bad about Morrison telling him hands off and was meaning to catch up with me for it now that she wasn't around.
But I digress.
I didn't bother even picking up my change. I just got up and was going to walk off, leaving even my bedroll. I told you I had this bad feeling. I was just glad it wasn't night. It would have been better if there'd been some people around, but the heat was keeping folks off the street. I had only just stood up when a thump across the back of my legs brought me down hard. I think I cracked my skull on the back when it hit the sidewalk. All I could hear was this ringing for a while and when I touched my head, it was bleeding but not much. I guess I was kind of dehydrated.
"Get up!" Ward barked.
Ward's partner, I think his name was Munoz, he tried to pull him off but Ward pushed at him until he backed down. Ward tapped me on the knees with the stick. I couldn't help it but I cried. It hurt damn bad. I tried not to cry; experience told me it would only make him hungrier. But I couldn't help it, couldn't think straight. Ward started pressing the end of his stick into my gut, pushing hard so I couldn't draw in any more breath. I mean he weighed something like 260. I think maybe his diet wasn't workin out.
But I digress.
Then I hear a snap and the pain just goes away. I suck in a long drag of air. Air tasted better than food at that time. My stomach is burning with a dull ache, as is my knee and head. I'm swimming in pain, but I figure I'd best look around while I can.
I see Ward and Munoz looking up at this really huge guy who'd come out of the bus station. I mean the guy is built solid, makes even Ward look puny. He's got Ward's stick in his hands and it's busted in half. This guy just tosses the stick aside and bends down to look at me, ignoring the cops. He smiles at me and touches me and the pain just goes away. I know what you're thinking but that's just what happened.
Ward's, he's just like turning purple and all. He grabs Diaz's stick and starts yelling at this guy that he's under arrest and to back off. Sweat is pouring down him, but the guy, hey, that's right, this big dude, that was when I noticed he wasn't sweating. And that's when it all started coming back, not right away. I mean, that part of my brain is sort of fried and all, I figured. But it was coming back. It hit me that I'd seen this dude before.
But I digress.
The dude is touching me where Ward had whacked me, as if checking to see that I'm O.K. Weird thing was that I was. I mean, Ward had definitely cracked my knee cap, but then it was O.K. I don't see how, but that's the way it was. Ward's screaming sort of grows quiet. Ward's still screaming alright. He's yelling at the top of his voice, even has his hand on his gun. But he's moving really slow for some reason and I can barely hear his voice.
The big guy ignores all Ward's screaming and smiles at me.
"Hello Tony, how have you been?"
And that's really freakin' strange, because I don't figure too many folks know my real name, certainly not some stranger just off the bus. Everyone around town, if they know me at all, they call me Skags. So I'm really thinking I know this guy. I just can't place where.
"You're in a shit-load of trouble, asshole!" Ward yelled at this dude. "Call for backup!" he tells Munoz.
Munoz speaks into the mike on his shoulder but just then the dude opens his mouth. I can't quite hear it but there's this sound. Munoz taps his mike and then says it ain't workin. Ward tries his but it's the same for him. Ward looks like he's getting kind of scared. I mean this dude that knows my name is big, arms like my legs used to be. And Ward don't have no backup 'cept Munoz, and Munoz is looking pretty scared himself and isn't saying or doing much.
All this time I'm thinking I know this guy. He's still talking to me. Telling me not to be afraid. Listening to his voice, it digs into my brain, pulls out memories I didn't even know I had, maybe I wish I didn't. For a moment, I'm back in the Nam. I can feel the humidity, the heat (even hotter than today), the sweat, the taste of fear and the sound of fear, and the vision of men dying. I'm hit, and a corpman rushes to help me. All I can see is his face. I'm beggin him not to let me die.
Then I get it. "Dio!," I yell. "Johnny Dio!" Dio was a petty officer in the Nam, a corpsman. 'Saved my life more times than I can remember, which I'm not sure is a good thing or not. Then I'm thinking, man, he's looking pretty good for pushing 60. Wonder what brings him to town? I guess my guardian angel is somewhere lookin out for me.
But I digress.
Ward has had enough by this time and he just whacks Dio across his back so hard, it breaks the stick. But Dio, don't flinch or twitch like he didn't feel it. He just smiles at me and stands up. Munoz and Ward grab their guns. But Dio flicks out a chain he must've been hiding in his jacket. The chain brushes the guns and they shatter, like they're made of ice. Dio grabs Ward and yanks him toward him.
"I know you, Allen. I know the taste of your pain. You're the worst kind of monkey. I've seen your kind before. You're nothing special. You want to see what I see? Look into my eyes."
Well, Ward he don't want to look. But Dio, he just holds his stare. Ward looks into his face like he's caught, a fuckin' deer in headlights. Then his face curls all up and he just starts to cry.
At this, Munoz crosses himself, like, and then he just up and runs, leaving Ward there. He runs so fast, his cap flies off his head but he don't turn around to pick it up.
The kids from inside poke their heads out, gawking at Dio.
"I think Mr. Mulligan here could use a little donation," he tells them.
They all just stare at him blankly at first, then they nod. Smiling, they come and drop all that sweet change and bills into my lap, acting like I'm their uncle or something. All this time, Ward is sitting on the sidewalk, crying his eyes out. People start to appear, drawn by the noise perhaps. They crowd around Ward. He's making such a fuss, no one pays any attention to Dio and me.
Dio bends down to me. "Hey, Tony. Good to see you, man. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances."
He holds out his hand, and I shake it. I really don't know what to say.
Dio, he speaks first. "Hey, I need to find someone."
Skaggs paused, not continuing. Truthfully, he'd forgotten what he wanted to say. The woman in red pulled out a clove cigarette and lit it. The heavy scent of it tickled Skagg's nose. He wanted it; he wanted her. She was something incredible. Her figure was luscious, but more than that, her thin lips curled just right, her dark eyes burned dark but with touches of what looked like red, as if they were embers in darkness, framed in the luscious silk of her black hair. Skaggs found himself reaching for the cigarette, not even surprised at his boldness. He wanted to taste her taste on its filter. She let him have it and he took a drag. It had no filter, but he could taste her on the paper. His lips burned, not with desire, but like someone had put acid in the cigarette. He started wretching, wiping his lips.
"You were going to say?" She stood there with her hands on the top curves of her hips. Her eyes had taken a slight slant, and her burning look was just that, burning. He started to sweat, getting uncomfortable.
Skaggs paused. Looking down, her shadow wasn't fixed like his was. It seemed to be writhing around, like it was a...
As he reached out his hand to point this out to her, he felt her thrust some money into that hand. He unfolded the bills, mostly twenties, but with a C-note prominent.
"Who did he need to find?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, Benefice. He asked about Benefice. I told him the way and he just says goodbye to me. The last I see of him, he just is walking up the street." Skaggs kept looking at the money, having forgotten about the shadow. It'd been a long time since he'd had this kind of money. He could get cleaned up now, maybe get a room for a few days, keep hiding out from the cops, not that Ward was going to bug him. They carted him off to the Dominican psyche tank was what he'd heard.
"Benefice?" she asked.
"Yeah, he runs a soup kitchen up off North River Street, by the trailer park. It's illegal so he sets it up in a field by the river."
"And this was...?"
"Bout two, maybe two and a half hours ago."
The babe in red didn't say anything. She handed Skaggs another bill and a business card. "Keep an eye out for your old friend. But don't tell him about our conversation. We're old friends too and I want to surprise him. You see him, or any of his other friends, call me with the details."
Skaggs looked at the card. It was Jojo's, the topless bar outside of Watsonville, out in no-man's land just past the river and over the county line. Skaggs had been there, but only in his dreams. The woman dressed in her red silk oriental dress got back into the limo. Skaggs noticed that someone was sitting in there, but he couldn't make anything out except the guys eyes seemed to shine as they looked at Skaggs, which made him uncomfortable. The woman's shapely leg revealed itself, a darting glimpse of perfect ivory peeking through the slit in her dress. Skagg's noticed the shimmering dragon embroidery, reminding him of women he'd seen on the streets of Hong Kong.
"Feeling the grimy notes in his hands, Skaggs was back in business. He even had a new client now. But there was this nagging thought in the back of his head like he'd done something he shouldn't have.
"So, he came, like you said he would." Kelbeh lit another cigarette. "Everything's going according to plan."
"Of course it is. Turquitt flicked a microscopic piece of dirt off his white suit. Leaning forward, he tapped the limo's window. It lowered silently. "Slow down, Marvin. We don't want to be speeding. Set a good example."
The limo slowed to a crawl, in the fast lane. People honked and sped around it, annoyed at the fact that it was going only half the speed limit. Turquitt seemed to enjoy this, smiling at the people who couldn't see him anyway through the tinted windows.
"Now, the only one remaining is poor Vargas," he told her, taking her cigarette for his own.
story by Solanio