nine

Yates sat across the room from the little kid. She’d cried for a long fucking time. Wanting her mother. It unnerved the fuck out of him. In the end, he got her to shut the fuck up by giving her some food. Put a little crushed-up Valium in with it. Not a lot, but enough that he figured she’d shut the fuck up and relax. Jesus, even when they were little, bitches were a pain in the balls. She’d eaten up every last bit of the SpaghettiOs. Was about fifteen minutes later that she began to get groggy. Then as Sleepy Time landed, she lay back on the blanket and bummed off to sleep.

Now he could think. Finally. Looked again at the message from Karachi. Meet. Now. On the beach, across from La Playa and Kirkham. You know.

It was a simple thing to do: get the kid, bring it to the buyer. Now? Now it felt dangerous. Meeting out there at the beach. At night. And fuck no way did he trust Karachi. Yates realized that he needed Griffin. Griffin could be his backup. From the window, his eyes scanned the street and other cars. Fucking asshole Griffin. No longer feared, but still acting the part of enforcer. Then again, the fat bastard was better than nothing, and he knew no one else who would do it. Something inside told him that this could turn out bad. Well, at least he had his equalizer. Checked the shells again. Full mag. No way anyone was going to make a mausoleum for him. Fuck that shit. Hell, he laughed, you can make a mausoleum out of burnt spoons and used clothing?

The kid seemed almost comatose. Shit, had he given her too much of the blue boys? He scooped her up, the blanket wrapped around her like she was a babe swaddled in her father’s arm. Went to his car, checking again the location of the meet. Put her in the passenger seat. Buckled her in for some reason he didn’t really understand. Just told himself it was to keep the package safe. She muffled some sound. Like in the middle of a nightmare. He stared at her for a moment, feeling every bit the piece of shit work he was doing. Got strong. Yeah, kid … sounds like it’s a bad dream. Well, it certainly fucking is. For both of us.

He drove over to Griffin’s place. The fat fucker waddled out like he was not only the toughest asshole on the block, but the toughest asshole in the world. Maybe back in the day, Yates thought, but not now. Still, he was going to help, and you could count on him to keep his yap shut. And that fat ass had a gun. That was enough for Yates.

Griffin came up to the car, saw the child belted in. Pursed his lips at Yates. “Aw, daddy wanna bay shore baybee iz otay?”

“Fuck you and just follow me in your wheels. If the shit hits the wall, shoot at everything around me until I’m outta there.”

Griffin nodded. Held out his hand. “You want the best, you pay the price.”

Jesus … like this bowl of bloated shit was “the best.” He wasn’t anything to Yates, except a finger on a trigger. Yates handed him a fold of twenties. Griffin looked at it. Nodded like he just scored Fort Knox. Asshole. “I’ll be right behind you. Just sprayed my ride matte black. Nobody will see my little stealth machine.”

–––––

The trip to the beach took no time at all. No traffic this late at night. That was a two-edged sword. Yeah, less people hanging about, but you stand out more. What if a cop stopped him? What then? Throw the kid out the window and haul ass? Shoot the cop? Both are basically the final nail in your ever-rotting coffin.

He repositioned the gun. It was more accessible this way, shoved between the driver’s seat and the center console. Fuck it, he thought: if you gotta go out, go out in a blaze of glory. Why the fuck waste away in prison? Fuck that shit. But he met no cops, or anyone else as he drove down to the beach. Got to the meeting point. Cars lined the street, and he wondered then if he could even find fucking parking. Fuckin’ San Fran … He did find a spot, just up the street. Parked. Wondered where Griffin would park. Could that fat fuck be capable of actual wartime thought? Checked on his passenger. Still out. He could leave her here. Go to the meet. Have them come back and take what they paid for. Fuck ’em. What was he? A waiter?

Got out and walked to the corner. A dark shadow disengaged itself from the darker shadow cast by the entryway to a building. Karachi. Wearing his usual black trench coat. So fucking The Matrix.

“Where is she?” Karachi asked.

“What the fuck, man? You want me to bring her over here in a stroller? She’s asleep in the car.” He lit a cigarette. “It’s all good, man.”

“All good,” Karachi echoed. “Better fucking be.”

“Where’s my money?”

Karachi looked up and down the street. Typical Karachi. Like he’s in some fucking gangster film. Brought out an envelope and quickly shoved it at him.

“Better all be here,” Yates said. Quietly moved his other hand closer to the grip of the pistol shoved in his waistband.

But Karachi only shook his head with disgust. “You do your job? You get paid what was promised. You don’t do your job? You get sent underground.”

“Yeah yeah yeah … I hear ya.” He put the envelope into his coat pocket for now. Would have to hide it in his car somewhere until he got home. “Well? You comin’ to get her? Where are the buyers?”

“He’s here,” Karachi replied. “Waitin’ for you to give her to me. That’s what buffers are for, right? So you don’t know him, and more importantly for you, that he don’t know your fuckin’ face, dude.”

“Well, let’s get this done then, man.” He led Karachi back to his car. The two men glanced once up and down the street. No one around. He opened the door and released the safety belt.

“How precious,” Karachi said. “You playing the concerned parent.”

He ignored Karachi. Scooped up his little prisoner and handed her over. There. It was done now. Karachi handled her roughly as he positioned her better in his arms. She whimpered a little. Yates almost reached out to calm her. Caught himself just in time. “Don’t wake her, man,” he said quietly.

“Or you’ll what?” Karachi answered.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

Karachi, turned to walk away. Stopped. “You hear about Hendrix, man?”

“No, what?”

“He got wasted.”

“Why is that any different than any other motherfucking day?”

Karachi turned back, this time a pistol in his hand, carefully balancing the girl’s legs. “Because this time he got wasted all the motherfucking way.”

Yates tried to go for his gun, knowing it was way too late, way too whatever. There was a shot that sliced the night like a quiet knife and he felt the bullet slam him in the lower stomach. As he fell there were other shots. Griffin … . Then he fell. Then it was black.

–––––

Karachi didn’t even wait for the body to land. Was already walking away into the shadows before the other shots went off. Concrete was torn up. Some hit him in the face. He felt a bullet slam into his forearm and he almost dropped the kid. Almost made it to the buyer’s car but then there was another shot and he dodged out of reflex, dropping the package. He saw the buyer get out of the car, wanting the kid, but bullets erupted, one slamming into the car’s fender. The buyer gave one last look at the child, then jumped back into his car and in a burning rubber cloud disappeared.

Whoever the fuck was out there wasn’t very good, but they were very lucky. Like someone playing a good round of “Whack A Mole.” He heard sirens now. Closing fast. He caught one last look at the kid, near the place where the buyer’s car had been. “Motherfucking shitbag Christ!” he said under his breath. He was bleeding and had to get away. Fuck! Get away. That was all he could do, right? Get the fuck away?

Well, if that’s all you can do, then you do it.

–––––

Griffin listened for a moment. Reloaded, just for the hell of it. Just like in the movies. Listened. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. And that was when he heard it.

The sound of a crying kid. Sirens were happening and happening louder all the time. But above it, he could hear a kid’s crying. The package!

He ran across the street as Karachi’s car screeched around the far end of the block. Went to where Yates lay. There she was. Shivering, not knowing what the fuck was going on. As the sirens grew closer he scooped her up and bolted as fast as he could back to his car. Tossed her inside and took off, pedal to the metal. Grinned as the car roared away. Now he had something that somebody wanted, and badly. This little critter would pay gold. Dividends of gold.