Tim knew just what to do. He wrapped his fingers around the hammer and clenched.
“I’m gonna do it. You better be ready boy, I gonna do it.”
Boy clamored for an item a few feet to his left. A wrench? A shovel? A pickaxe? Whatever the item was, the chances of it being grabbed and used more effectively than the hammer in Tim’s hand was unlikely. Tim was faster, Tim was efficient, and Tim has whacked many a boys with hammers despite his rather novice notoriety in the whole “gang mob” scene.
But Tim preached he was a natural. He knew it.
“Don’t you crawl away from me!” Tim smacked the boy across the chest with the hammer and the boy cringed, grasping his gut like a newborn child covered in butter.
“If you wanna fuck with me I’ll fuck with ya. I love me so fuckin!” Tim now kicked the boy and his body slung over to the side.
“Why aren’t you pulling your pants down boy, I thought you wanted to fuck?” The boy, confused and at this point beyond the mark of startled, was aroused by a woman stepping out of the town car a few meters to his left.
She spoke. “Tim, let’s go. We gotta get back.” Tim without looking behind him responded in angst. A rather individualistic man, controlling him was a rather upsetting task. He hated being bossed around but further, he hated the nature of the woman telling him what to do, when to do it, and how it should be done.
Tim leveled the hammer to the boy’s face, cursing under his breath, and nailed it against his head enough times to count on two hands.
Tim placed the hammer into his back palm and smiled.
“No one’s gonna fuck Timmy unless it’s her.” Tim lifted his hands towards the woman by the town car.
“Come on let’s go Tim.” She responded back with an unwittingly irritated grin and sat back down in the front seat behind the steering wheel.
Tim, sitting beside her in shotgun, laid the hammer down into the glove box. He glanced over at the woman.
“I got shotgun this time, Twila.” He smiled, and she returned it with agitation.
“You always have shotgun.” They both stared off in opposite directions, and Twila accelerated out of the docks and onto the highway.
Tim sat, spread out, and legs up on the opposing seat.
“Why so early? Doesn’t Raff know last night was drinking night, god I have no time for his shit.”
“What night isn’t drinking night?” Twila retaliated. Tim just shrugged and stood up.
“Alright, hold on let me get my coat.” Tim stepped beside a closet by the door and grabbed a long black coat, made of a thinning fabric, and coated it between his chest. Twila stood by the front door, arms crossed, glancing around the house eagerly, and waiting on Tim to hurry his preparations to leave.
He scrambled around the room a bit, eying each section of the house and feeling his pockets up and down. “I’m coming I’m coming.” Tim was looking for something. Maybe a wallet? After a moment, Tim stood still and stared at Twila.
“Why do you always look like such a bitch?” Tim smiled and continued his business. Twila crunched herself up off the wall and left the front door, smacking it against her palm on the way out.
“You leave without me and you know what Raff’s gonna say bout that?” Tim announced out the front door. Twila just rolled her eyes and continued her paces down to the front seat of the car.
After a few minutes Tim climbed into the passenger seat and reclined it, trying to place his feet up on the dash yet failing due to his size.
“What the fuck?” Twila, aggravated, looked over at Tim. “Why you gotta be yelling Raffie’s name outside the door this late, and why you gotta be trying, every mother fuckin time, to recline on my seat when you KNOW you be too big?” Tim just smiled and continued looking out the window. “I mean seriously Tim, what the fuck?”
“Bitch yelling at me. I don’t know why Raff wants us teamed up all the time, its fucking bullshit.”
“You call me a bitch one more time and I’ll rip your testicles out with my bare fucking hands.” Twila turned towards Tim and tensed her fist.
“I know you could, Twila.” Tim uttered.
Twila, obviously on edge, tried breathing in hard and ignoring Tim’s incompetencies. She just sighed and squeezed out a curse word under her breath.
As Twila began driving down the driveway Tim interrupted the silence. “So what are we doing?”
Tim’s questioned hearkened back on what exactly they WERE doing. She thought about the last conversation with her boss Raff.
“Twila. I need a favor- something small.” Raff didn’t smile. His face hard, rough, resisting any sort of pity for the task he was about to give Twila. I need you to pick up some money for me.”
“How much?” She responded.
“Don’t worry about that. They know how much. Its money those sons a bitches owe me, and if those fuckers short me I’ll have their bodies hung over their mother’s bed.” Raff looked towards the window. “Do you know what a skullfuck is?”
Twila squirmed. “A skullfuck?”
Raff’s face was cold. He stared with strength and power out the window, and turned his statue gaze over to Twila. “If they do not pay, if they pay a dollar short, if they are not there, if you smell them and they smell bad…I want YOU to skullfuck them.”
Twila just stood, and Raff continued. “I want you to then bring their skullfucked bodies over to my lair, and I will then precede to further skullfuck them.” Raff’s eyes darted back to the window. “Please Twila, will you tell them that.” Twila nodded but Raff still gazed out the window.
Raff placed a sheet of paper on the desk and Twila yanked it.
“I don’t trust them getting the money to me across town. It’s been a rough transition. Others may know of the delivery to me, and you know how many enemies those rival fuckers have.” Raff motioned his hands in the air and Twila nodded- about to leave. As she began pacing out of the room Raff stalled her.
“Twila.” he called. She turned around complacently. “Pick up Tim.”
Twila, frustrated by the request began to speak. “Tim, but…”
“Stop.” Raff tossed his hand against the desk in frustration. He spoke slower this time, each word echoed across the room. “Pick. him. up.” Twila only nodded again and left the office to pick up her partner in crime.
“So we’re picking up a delivery for Raff? From who?” Tim questioned.
“He handed me an address. It’s the Yellows.”
Tim chuckled. “Those fucks don’t know a Monopoly bill from a crispy one hundred. They must be in some deep shit.” Tim paused and smirked, giving Twila a cold stare. “…and what if they don’t have it?”
Twila said nothing, only sliding her head slowly to the side facing Tim and blinked. Tim returned his eyes forward and grinned even deeper.
“Oh I’d fucking LOVE to nab me a Yellow.” Tim reclined his seat further until it clunked to the bottom and put one foot up by the dashboard.
Twila looked frustrated. “There’s one more thing Tim.” Tim never moved. “Raff says you call him “Raff” one more time he’s gonna cut your tongue out and plant it up your ass.” Tim chuckled.
“You really think I can call him Raphael with a straight face? He’d kill me anyway!” Tim just made a distant laugh and gave his eyes to the outside window giving the finger to the Italian group hanging outside “Molly’s Dance.”
They saw their destination in the distance. It was a warehouse, a bit worn and to any outside force, particularly the police, a cliché-ridden stop that only reeks of suspicion and dirt. But the police hardly ever gave it much bother, as the Yellows have been fairly quiet recently. Well, in the eyes of Tim they were always pansies who couldn’t get a damn thing done, so it was no surprise to Tim that the warehouse was unkempt and suspicious. Cops wouldn’t bother anyway.
“Don’t they wanna clean up a bit. There’s like enemy blood dripping from the rafters and shit.” Twila ignored him. Tim continued. “I mean, it’s not as if Mr. Master Sargent, protector of the city really gives a fuck about some raggy Yellow hoodlums. Their basically niggers with shinier guns.” Tim leaned back and let out a wide laugh.
“You just trying to get a stir out of me? You just EAT UP my attention don’t you?”
“I’d eat up a lot more than that if you gave me the chance.” Tim turned towards Twila with a wild grin. “Oh the sexual tension…”
Twila accelerated even quicker and they pulled up to the warehouse.
“Haven’t been here in awhile.” Tim grinned, adoring the excitement and potential to bust up some Yellow face. “You think it’s Jelly that owes Raff?”
“Shut up.” Twila quipped and Tim tensed with surprise. She pulled up beside the warehouse and pulled the emergency brake, jerking the car forward and forcing Tim to place his hand forward to stop his body.
“Christ Twila you crazy cunt!”
Twila raised her eyebrows, and clenched her fists. “You want me to smack the fuck out of you, boy?” She reached to her side and gripped her pistol. “You have a better chance of getting shot by me than those Yellows.”
A man emerged from the warehouse. Twila continued. “You make baby-sitting two retarded babies easier.”
Tim lifted his hand in response but hesitated and opened the door. Another man was leaving the warehouse. Twila mouthed “let me talk” from across the car and Tim just nodded.
The man approached the car. The wind caught the end of his beard and it waved in the air a bit, making Twila chuckle.
Twila put her hand up. “Stop there.” She paused and eyed three guys standing alongside the warehouse, one slouching comfortably against the side wall with a cigarette and a flannel top.
“Why are we outside?” Twila stepped forward right up to the man and grabbed his shoulder. “Let’s go inside boys.” The man only complied and followed beside Twila right into the warehouse.
They disappeared towards the back and Tim, a bit far behind, was almost left outside when the Yellows closed the warehouse door keeping all their business inside and away from peeking eyes.
At least they were smart enough to do the dirt inside.
“Where is it?” Twila snapped. A man in the back recoiled. She continued. “You know WHY I’m here right?”
The lead Yellow just nodded and went to shake hands with Twila. “Riley. It’s been awhile.” Riley looked off to eye Tim tugging a cig from his pocket. “And Tim, of course. How you been?” Tim froze.
“How’s your ass feel?” Tim snarled. Twila rolled her eyes.
“This isn’t business. You owe Raphael a package. You give us package. We leave. You don’t die.” Twila retorted. “And if you don’t…” Riley only stared puzzled. “If you don’t…” Twila paused and coughed. “If you don’t I will.” She stopped again. Tim looked up from the ground and dropped his cigarette. “…I will skullfuck you.”
Tim burst into laughter and began walking towards the two. “Who wouldn’t want to be skullfucked by Twila I mean LOOK at that body, and she has the biggest dick of any girl I know.” Tim patted his hand against Riley’s back. “I mean shit kiddo; you should just burn the money now.”
Riley stood straight but turned his head to the side in frustration. Go away Tim, I’m talking to an adult.”
“You little faggot…” Tim pulled his pistol out and smacked Riley in the side of the head knocking him to the ground.
“Tim!”
The other Yellows lining the building tensed and grabbed at their sides, pulling pistols out the air and facing them out to the face of Tim.
He cringed.
One of the men yelled. “Drop it mutha fucka!”
“You ain’t gonna make me say please?” remarked Tim. The men just stared. Some time passed. Tim let his pistol smack to the ground.
Twila inched her fingers around her own gun.
“Hey bitch I saw that!” A man from around the side pointed his pistol squarely at Twila. She let her hands drop.
Riley, still holding on to the side of his face, straightened his legs and stood up.
“You can cut the tension with a butter knife.” Riley smirked. “You’re all like a bunch of grown straight men watching gay porn. Could we make this…” he paused. “This OBLIGATION any more awkward?” The Yellows looked confused.
“Lower your guns mutha fuckers Jesus what is sarcasm not in your vocabulary?” Riley put an arm out to the side and pressed it back towards the armed Yellows behind him. They obliged and Tim relaxed.
“So are you guys gonna see who can waste the most time or you gonna give us Raff’s money?” Tim questioned. Riley took a step forward letting his hand graze his face and leaned in towards Tim who was as relaxed as ever.
“See that red spot? That’s from you. It’s pretty right? Look at it shine…” Riley pointed to a spot on his skin but Tim just smirked.
“It was a gift. From yours truly.”
Riley just smiled comfortably. “You’re a funny guy Tim. And you know, I fucking LOVE gifts. My men give me all sorts of gifts all the time.” Tim actually startled himself a bit. What’s that even supposed to mean?
Twila took a step forward towards Tim and Riley and placed her hand out to the two.
Riley tensed up a bit. He waved his hand in the air and a man from the back disappeared behind a wall and grabbed a bright red duffel bag. Tim’s eyes brightened. The man stepped forward and dropped the bag to the floor between the three.
“That’s the bag friends. That’s for Raphael of course, and please make sure he gets it.”
Twila gripped the bag and quickly began stepping out of the warehouse. “Let’s go Tim.” She announced as she walked between two Yellows standing by the warehouse entrance.
Tim looked in her direction but just stood. Riley glanced up at him. “You better listen to the boss.”
Tim shrugged. “You better listen to your throbbing face. Need an icepack?” Tim smirked and began walking towards the door.
Riley yelled as he was leaving. “Hey Tim!” Tim turned his head off to the side. “Tell your partner to leave the skullfucking to the real warriors.” Riley waved his hand nonchalantly above his head and turned back to his fellow Yellows.
Tim just mumbled under his breath a cuss word or two…something about how all Yellows are faggots and how Twila’s a bitch.
Tim slid into the passenger seat unharmed, albeit frustrated.
“Didn’t I say LET ME TALK.” Twila questioned. Tim just smirked and reclined in his chair.
Twila shrugged uncomfortably and tossed her pistol below the seat. She pressed on the gas, off to drop the package into the grimacing hands of their trusted boss Raphael.
“You not gonna ask if I want anything?” Tim smirked. Twila faced him and shrugged her shoulders.
“I ain’t your momma Tim. What do you want? A soda pop? Some baby food?”
“How about a condom?” said Tim. Twila brushed him off and turned towards the station. “No seriously…condoms, pack of lights…” Twila never turned around and continued walking away leaving Tim sighing behind her.
They were stopped off at a rough barren Texaco station to fuel up after Tim wanted to take a quick stop at a friend’s house. Twila, reluctant, but endeared by Tim’s friend, decided it was harmless. Twila likes the boys.
“I wanna stop at a friend’s. Pick something up.”
“You serious? You know we got a backseat filled with cash and Raphael who KNOWS how long this trip should take…” Twila paused and slowed down. “Who?”
Tim, smiling, because he caught the unnerving interest of Twila simply spit out “Rocky” and Twila squirmed. Rocky. She likes Rocky.
“You have to tell me why?”
“He knows a guy that knows a guy…”
“And…” Twila quipped.
“And what Twila? Don’t you get it?” Tim stirred himself forward from the passenger seat and leaned towards Twila who was now only eying the road every few moments, trying to keep eye contact with Tim. Tim stared her down then whispered. “I could know that guy. I could know the guy who knows a guy…” Twila returned her eyes to the road and Tim leaned back in his seat. “Do you have any idea how much power I could have? To know a guy like that…”
Twila smiled quietly and looked complacent. “Does he know we’re coming?”
“He knows I’M coming.” Tim smiled and Twila nodded nervously.
Tim pointed his hand to the right. “Exit here.”
Tim leaned up against the town car, arms folded, waiting patiently for Twila to exit the gas station. He was fascinated by Twila’s interest in visiting Rocky. They were known to take little side quests before, during, and after jobs, but it was different to involve another person, and especially contrived considering the recent intensity of Raff and the bag of cash lying in the back. Sure, Twila was a little annoyed and probably wanted to get home earlier than later to hang with the girls or give Raff a hand job (though Tim could never confirm any of those). But Twila liked Rocky as much as she liked a night with the girls and she was bound to suspend her interests momentarily.
She’s a short-term thinker.
As Tim leaned comfortably against the Crown Vic he thought about his conversation with Rocky earlier on the phone.
“I got a call from Twila. Raff has something for us to do today.”
“Tim you such a bitch.” Rocky’s dark voice echoed from the other line. “What kinda job?”
“I don’t know. Look Rocky. Tim put his cigarette out beneath the sole of his foot. “I shouldn’t even be talking about it. It’s probably a cash pick-up of some sort.”
“You gonna stop by tonight. The guys gonna be here…”
“Yea yeah. As soon as I can. After the job. ”
There was silence on the other line. Tim was about to hang up. “Alright Rocky, later…”
“Wait Tim.” Tim placed the phone back up to his ear. “Can you stop by the station on 46? Pick me up some lights, some condoms…I don’t feel like heading out now I got Lucy up horny as all hell.” Tim just smiled.
“Ah new girl huh? No problem Rock, but you betta spot me later hm?”
Rocky hung up and Tim put the phone back in his pocket. A knock came upon the door.
It was Twila.
What was taking Twila so long? She was in the gas station for quite some time. Maybe searching for the best brand cigs. Maybe she’ll even buy a pack for Tim who would be more than enthusiastic for a dozen or so cancer rods.
A whistle stirred Tim forward. “Hey you.” A woman, 23, maybe 24, paced toward the Victorian. Tim looked with the corner of his eye and dropped his cigarette to the ground. She was average. Quite average. Yet pretty enough to garner the attention of Tim who was well accustomed to mediocrity when dealing with women. She wore a turquoise tube top that hugged her large breasts and formed creases around her chest. Tim liked her tits. But for most guys, it was the only attribute worth noting. Her face was worn by a mix of the hot summer days and the cold chalking winter. Her body was well-developed, but a bit chunky along the sides- what many may call a muffin-top formed along her waist.
But for the atypical, for the guy that is every guy that isn’t of high class, it was a well enough specimen of the female form for a nice quick lay- something to tell the buddies but not to attach to- to marry- to hug and fondle and adore.
It wasn’t too long for the girl to worm her sexual mind into the equally sexual brain of Tim, who was now pounding his way into her fleshy vagina. Pound. Pound. He dug it. She dug it. It was just like Tim to have sex with a woman he just met at the Texaco gas station off exit 46 on a nice bristly Monday afternoon.
Twila returned to the car. Tim was nowhere to be found, and the bag was gone. Gone.
Gone? Twila recited it in her head. Tim fucking ran out on foot with the goddamn money!
That twisted son of a…!
Tim stepped out of the janitorial closet at the side of the building pulling up the zipper on his pants. A woman, 23, maybe 24, followed behind him. Tim looked straight out to the Victorian and saw an absolutely irate Twila screaming.
“The bag! The fucking bag Tim!” Tim looked confused. A blue Chevy screeched up behind Tim and a woman, bra dangling off her shoulder, her panties pulled to the side as if they were tugged down just moments before dove into the Chevy screaming “drive drive!” The Chevy accelerated. Tim’s cheeks flushed. It was in that brief moment that he put two and two together. We put the female as a thief. He put the bag as missing. And most importantly, he saw Raff as having his balls to a meat cleaver. Maybe a skullfuck?
A screech made Tim waver. “GET IN HERE!” Twila’s blood was pulsing, her hips shaking- and not in the sensual way.
She was absolutely baffled. The Victorian screamed, and Twila gunned it before Tim even had a fair chance to slip into the backseat, enough room with the bag missing.
“Tim you mother fucker, are you kidding me?!”
“What the fuck was taking you so long in the gas station!?” Tim yelled.
“Well can you keep your dick out of a girls mouth long enough to wait for me!” Twila leveled the car out of the station lot and down the strip she saw the Chevy escape down.
“If we lose them Tim I swear to Christ!” Twila failed to see the Chevy ahead. She got nervous. Raphael would have her head. “And you leave your gun in the car!?” Tim looked ashamed.
“You keep those eyes out the window!” Twila cried. Tim nodded in anxious agreement. Twila ran past a stop sign narrowly missing the front side of a Mercedes that was cruising comfortably down 11th Ave.
Tim screamed, “Turn here!” and stuck his finger to the window.
“I saw it.” Twila crushed her foot against the brake, tapping it up and down ever so slightly and drifted her away around a bend and towards 14th where she saw the Chevy pacing down the road.
“We’ll catch up to those little fucks. You watch.”
Tim tried to climb his way up to the front seat but a drift by Twila sent him thrown behind the driver’s seat, smacking his head against the side door.
“Seriously Tim, what is wrong with you?” Twila, clearly entertained by this whole spectacle in an odd out-of-character sense, was teasing the stupidity of Tim. I mean, how dumb could the guy be? As she came out of the turn, she saw the blue Chevy a few blocks down rambling down the road at a leisurely pace, probably confident that they lost the two buffoons who once had possession of the bag.
“Whoa.” Twila slowed the car to a crawl and meandered it quietly into a parking space.
Tim reacted. “What? What the hell…”
Twila interrupted. “Keep your head down, their getting out.”
“Well fucking get out WITH them. You gonna lose them.”
“Wait wait, we can’t just go out there now guns blazing in the middle of the goddamn day Tim.”
Tim agreed but didn’t make Twila aware of it. He just peeked out the window in silence, eying the street and trying to get a read on their location.
“They walked into a building.”
“How many?”
“Just the two. The girl you fucked. Some guy…” Twila gave him a dirty glance from the front seat.
“What kinda building?”
“An apartment building.”
“What kind of apartment building?”
“It’s red. Fucking nasty. Old.” Twila froze. “Wait.”
Tim tensed a bit and leaned his head forward just above the window.
“The address is umm…” Twila paused again and squinted. “1200…”
Tim jumped out of the car and slammed the back door. He leaped forward and pocketed his pistol right into the side of his pants.
“What!? What the fuck Tim?”
Tim moved around the front of the car and leaned his head into the driver seat.
“Twila.” He lowered his voice. “That’s where Rocky lives…” He pointed his hand forward toward the apartment complex.
“Rocky? THE Rocky?” She thought about it for a moment. “How did he?”
“I talked to him. Told him I had a job to do and I would head over after. He told me to stop at the gas station to pick up something. He must’ve told that gal and that brown haired fucker to do us like this.”
“Tim…”
“Let’s go come on!” Tim leaned off the Victorian and Twila followed suite, grabbing a handgun from the glove box and smacking the car door shut as she left.
“So what’s the plan Tim?”
“Shoot them in the face.” Tim still stared straight towards the complex.
“Tim this is reckless.” Twila doubted. Tim stopped walking and turned his body facing her.
“Oh ok and you want to sit out here and think it over when their inside counting all of Raff’s money?”
Twila paused. “Well…Yes. Yes I do.”
Tim just sighed and continued walking.
“Tim Jesus just chill out a second.”
“Twila. Rocky is a guy that you think is the sexiest mother fucker on the planet and he just skullfucked you. I know I know, it sounds kinda hot, but when it costs you all the Yellows indebted money that is SUPPOSED to be Raff’s, and Raff has no problem pissing down your throat while you’re awake, and making you eat shit from his dog’s ass because he finds it amusing…is it still cool? Do you STILL wanna sit out here and plan it out?”
Twila was caught off guard. Her face tensed, the grip on her handgun tightened. And, without any words or outward angst, she agreed.
“Lucy.” Rocky yelled from the couch. “Lucy!” A young woman, 23, maybe 24, paced down the stairs and walked right up to the end of the couch, standing insistently in front of Rocky, who was comfortable, reclined.
“I have a job for ya.”
“What kinda job?” Lucy smirked and leaned forward, grabbing at Rocky’s crouch and biting her lip.
“No bitch, a money job.”
“You don’t have to pay me NOTHING…”
“God Lucy, you ARE horny as fuck.” Rocky leaned forward and Lucy fell back. He stared at the whites of her eyes and smirked- an extraordinary smirk, a ruthless, manipulative, bastardizing smirk that would confirm even the most harmless of saints into maniacal backstabbers.
“This job will get you rich…”
Lucy sighed. “And then…”
“Then girlie, I will pound the shit out of you on a mattress of one hundred dollar bills if you go get Max and do this job…”
Lucy smiled, ears intent, and Rocky pulled out a piece of paper.
Fortunately for Tim and Twila they could enter fairly quietly. Tim was already confident of the room number, unless they were stashing in another room, which, for all intensive purposes, would have been vastly more of an intelligent move for the inadequate thieves. But Tim doubted their intelligence, perhaps with a little intelligence of his own. It was room 27. Floor 2. Tim peeked his eyes around the corner and there wasn’t anyone standing outside the room. He lucked out. They stood there for a few moments, anticipating any sort of movement. Someone leaving. Someone entering. They heard a sound. They lined up against the wall and inched just a little further. Twila kept nudging Tim’s back.
They crept to the door. Slow. Slower. Slowly. They stopped. Sounds. Laughter echoed and boomed from room 27. In the beginning it was hard to make-out. It was just murmured laughter- weighted and murky. After a few more paces, the sweat bobbing on Tim’s head, he heard it as explicitly as ever.
Rocky. He heard Rocky laugh.
Tim whispered. “That’s it, let’s go.”
Twila and Tim quickened their pace and came right to the front of the door. Tim stuck is hand out and placed three fingers up.
He closed one.
He closed another.
Twila kicked the door down. Screams erupted throughout the room. Twila took a shot at Max and he fell to the floor. Thunk. Lucy ducked behind the couch and covered her ears with her hands, howling.
“Fuckin grab her Tim.” Tim jumped over the couch and grabbed Lucy by the hair, covering her mouth with his hand and pacing her towards the front of the couch.
Rocky sat on the couch hands up. “Max said he wasn’t followed.”
Twila laughed out loud. “You got a handgun to your head and you question your dead friend?” Twila stopped talking and took a step towards Rocky. “You have five seconds to put the money in the bag.”
Rocky leaned off the couch, slowly, and began brushing the money off the table and into the red duffle bag that sat on the floor.
“Go on.” A lot of the money was loose, no longer bundled up, so many of the bills were alone and the ceiling fan began picking some bills up and tossing them around the room.
“Let’s go faggot!” Twila yelled and pressed the gun to Rocky’s head.
“Oh dear you know I’m anything but…” Rocky mocked.
“Hurry UP!” Twila yelled. She knew what he was doing. He was stalling. Someone was bound to have heard the shot that killed Max and of course the yelling. The police were probably on their way.
“Tim knock her out. Let’s go.”
“Even if it wasn’t real you were a good lay.” Tim smacked his pistol against the side of her face and she collapse to the floor, hitting her head even further against the wood paneled surface.
“And you…” Tim walked right to the edge of the couch where Rocky was sitting and put his handgun against his head.
“If you wanna fuck with me I’ll fuck with ya. I love me so fuckin!” Tim yelled. Rocky slid to the back of the couch.
“Oh you crawl away from me. I thought you wanted to fuck?”
“Tim let’s go!”
A police alarm ripped through the air. It was closing in on their spot.
“Let’s fucking GO TIM!”
Tim spit in Rocky’s face and followed Twila out the door.
“Stay safe kids.” Rocky remarked sarcastically, and kicked the table in frustration.
His half-assed plan failed. What a surprise.
Twila and Tim descended the stairs and shuffled out a back exit only known because of Tim’s previous endeavors at Rocky’s place. The cops came into the door only moments after Twila and Tim exited out the back, and they made it to their car with enough time to see three cop cars parked outside the apartment.
For all reasonable expectations, Tim and Twila should have never been able to escape. They lucked out. Again.
The wind rustled around the car comfortably and Tim and Twila smiled and whistled along beside it. They were headed back to base, to where Raff lived to bring the debt from the Yellows. They weren’t concerned whether they were getting a cut tonight from the package or would be paid later down the road. It wasn’t uncommon for Raff to short them, hence Tim’s short temper with the man on occasion.
“So Tim. Why were you headed to Rocky’s anyway?”
“I told you. A guy…”
“But what guy? Like, what did he do? Or has…or…” Twila stopped herself knowing her question was as elaborate as it needed to be.
Tim stared out the window, at first hesitating to answer question. But he thought his partner, of all people, should be aware of this particular, guy…
“A job interview.”
“A huh?”
A job interview. I had a job interview with this guy.”
“What kind of job interview?”
The guy owns this like, chain of bakeries, and he’s offering me a job to help run them.”
Twila smiled. “A fucking bakery…”
“Yeah girlie. Like a real job ya know…”
Twila smiled and continued driving; now hitting the beginnings of a bridge.
“I should count the money, at least make sure it’s damn close to what the Yellows owe.” Tim zipped open the bag and pulled out some wrapped up bills, breaking them open making the bills loose.
“Tim just wait till we get…” it was too late. The extra wind from being over the bridge rustled the loose bills out of the bag and into the air where they circled a few times around Tim’s head and blew out the window. Tim panicked. Even more flew out the window.
“What the fuck?” Twila questioned to herself and slowed down the car alerting attention to the cars behind her, now openly aware of the money flying out of the car window.
“Zip up the bag Tim!” A large gust of wind caught the extent of the bag and a whole healthy handful of bills flew further out and beyond the walls of the bridge. Twila stopped the car.
They both stepped out. Others from behind were rushing out of their vehicles, waving their hands in the air in attempt of catching a nice twenty, maybe a hundred if they were lucky.
It was futile. Twila and Tim stood at the edge of the bridge watching the wind catch heaving’s of their money being swept away to the ocean and beyond.
“You know Tim…remind me to kill you.”
“Shut up Tim.” Raff remarked.
“But look…” he was interrupted.
“Tim. When will you learn to keep your fucking mouth SHUT?” Raff smacked his hand against the desk and stared toward the window.
Tim turned to face the door.
“You’re not excused mother fucker sit your black ass down.” Raff called. Tim listened and sat down with hesitation.
“You know why I don’t like you Tim?”
“Because I don’t have tits.”
“Tim. Have you ever heard of a rhetorical question? Don’t answer that. It means when someone asks a sarcastic question you SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN.” Raff’s voice tensed and he leaned forward. “I’ll tell you why I don’t like you.” Raff paused. “It’s because you’re fucking stupid. You are as stupid as a shit on a sunny day. You are as stupid as a fucking retarded kid playing chess. You are fucking retarded Tim. I’ve taken turds smarter than you Tim.”
“Raff I…”
“Wait you little cocksucker. Did you just call me by my “not actually real” name? Don’t answer that either. My mother gave me that name? Are you denying my mother the name she has given me?”
Tim just looked at the floor.
“Well you smartened up. You didn’t answer that. Smart guy. You might be a mother fuckin genius Tim. And you know what’s funny about that…it’s kinda true.”
Tim stirred to life.
“Tim you may be as dumb as a herd of hippies, but you DELIVER. Do you know what that means? It means you get shit done.”
Tim was stalled.
“You’re fucking stupid Tim. Twila too. You’re both retarded. But TOGETHER you get shit done. I always said a little estrogen and a little testosterone mixed works wonders for the world…” Raff just stopped and looked back at Tim’s face. “You don’t know what those words mean but do know this…”
Raff paused and eyed Tim right between the pupils cautiously, with unrestrained hesitance.
“You’re productive Tim. Even the retards of this world can go out there and do something good.”
Tim smiled, satisfied and content with his compliment, heartfully masked in layers and layers of insults and criticism.
“Now I got a boy I need you to whack. His name’s Charlie. Do it clean. Do it good.”
Raff paused again.
“And get Twila.”
