The Sin Bin (6 page)

'
Fuck you!
'
he spat.

At first, I thought nothing of it.
Hell, I
'
d worked doors, this
was
'fries with that?'
to me. But there was something about the voice
that came with a knife-edge. Then I saw it, staring me in the face, the name on
the swipe-card attached to his lapel: Mike Clarkson.

'
I
'
m going to ask you to re-evaluate that
response ...
'
I said.

'
What?
'
He
looked up, but he didn
'
t
remember pushing me around in high school, he
'
d no memory of the way he and his Jock buddies used to ride me,
bitch-slappin
g
and calling me
Hom'-Boy and such.

'
You have no
idea have you ... really, no idea!
'
I could feel the alcohol racing in my veins, mixing with the
adrenaline and one hell of a sore mood.
'
I
'
m Francis Jarman.
'

It took him a while but the slow-blink
on his face turned to register the information.

'
Francis ...oh
yeah, I remember you.
'

'
You bet your
sweet ass you do.
'
I put a
heavy finger point into his shoulder. In New York it would have been enough to
get you put inside — just contemplating it would be — but I was past caring
here. Call it an out of town thing. I'd lost the Vegas vibe.

'
You
'
ve, er, changed some,
'
he slurred.

'
Oh, yeah ...
'
I was enjoying riding his fear. It was a
classic turn of the tables. Would take a few revolutions more to get even with
this bastard little queer-hater, though.
'
Why don
'
t I just
walk you to your hotel,
huh
?
'

'
Eh, no, no ...
I
'
m, er, staying here, at the
casino,
'
he said waving the
bottle.
'
I
'
ve got a room just upstairs, that won
'
t be necessary.
'

I wanted just one shot. One clean crack
at his face to remind him, to let him know how it felt to be bullied by someone
stronger than he was. Man, this rage was lappin
g
in me. But I chilled. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him towards
the elevator.
'
Word to the
wise, Mike ... lay off the busboy!
'
As I stepped back from the elevator I could tell he
'
d learned nothing in the time since we
'
d last clapped eyes on each other.

'
I
'
ll bear that in mind ...
FAG-SIS
!
'
he yelled out to the whole place.

I was at the doors, fists at the ready.

As the doors pipped me to a close, he
stood laughing, waving that Goddamn pink-champagne bottle at me like it was his
dick.

****

The red button wouldn
'
t open up the elevator again. I gave it a
few good shots but it wouldn't shift.

I hit the stairs.

I moved fast; despite my size I was
still agile. I'd kept up the cardio' too. There was only one floor, but shit,
this was Vegas, everything was fast, the elevator beat me to the punch,
dislodging Mike before I could grab hold and tear him a new asshole.

The down light was already on when I
got there, just in time to see him staggering off to his room, bottle still in
hand. At the door a couple of hookers were hanging out, butt naked, save a long
white feather-boa they shared between them.

If there was a time to settle down,
think about doing the right thing, this was it. I gathered myself and slumped
on the wall, my sweat-soaked back sliding me all the way to the floor.

My cell phone fell out and I switched
it on. I
'
d missed a call from
Jonny, I cursed inwardly and played the voicemail message:

'
I
saw through your text message, Francis. Look, this is about as much as I can take.
I
'
m going back West so
don
'
t expect me to be
around when you get home. I can
'
t live hand-to-mouth with you anymore, I put a box with your hormone
shit and needles and whatever in the stairwell by the dumpster, if you
'
re so desperate for it, it
'
ll still be there in a couple days.
'

The message went quiet but the little
clock still ticked off the seconds; he started again:

'
No,
scrub that last bit ... I
'
m putting it out with the trash! You know, you
'
d still have a job if you didn
'
t take that shit! It
'
s fucked with your mind, I mean what
did Mr Hernandez say to make you fly at him like that! He was your boss, you
can
'
t go round hitting
your boss and keep your job. Oh, Christ, like you care, go screw yourself,
Francis ... go fucking screw yourself!
'

I threw the cell at the wall and it
bounced right back, smacking me upside the head. It hurt like a bitch and I
jumped right up and stamped it into the floor.

My heart was pumping black blood to my
head. I was past the break-point now. Adrenaline raced in my veins so much that
I could see red tinges in the corner of my vision. I couldn't hold myself back
anymore — I turned to the nearest target.

The carpet to the door of Mike
'
s room felt thick under my sandals and made
a swish-swish noise that annoyed the fuck out of me. I ripped the sandals off
and tore them apart in my bare hands as I strode, steps like explosions, all
the way to the end of the line.

I thought about knocking, but the door
looked flimsy enough to need only a couple of shoulder barges. I was wrong; it
took only one.

The hookers screamed as I ran in. I
grabbed one by the wrist and yelled at her,
'
Get the fuck out of here, now!
'
The other raised her hands to her face and screamed louder, I
slapped her and she dropped like a stone. Her buddy wasted no time on help
though, turned tail and shot out that door like a scalded cat.

Mike lay naked on the bed, save a white
towel round his waist, the bottle of pink champagne still in his hand. His
mouth was a wide `O' but there was not a sound coming from him as I grabbed his
hair and turned him over on his front.

'
What was that
you called me?
'
I yelled at
him.

'
What
?
'
his voice was a
pathetic whimper.

'
What was that
you called out to me?
'

'
I-I-I don
'
t ...
'

'
Yes, you
Goddamn do! Think, what was that shit you said?
'

'
I-I-I-
'
Every time he spoke I felt my rage pitch
up a notch. He was riding me. Just like he always had.

'
You fucking
well know what you said, you fucking well know ... say it, say it, you fuck,
say what you said to me.
'

'
I didn
'
t say ... when?
'

'
When? When?
... Eighth Grade you motherfucker!
'

I reached down for the towel around his
waist and pulled it clear of his butt-cheeks.

'
You know what
it is with guys like you, don
'
t
you?
'

He twisted his head to see what I
planned to do He was crying now, full on tears like a baby.
'
What are you going to do to me? What
are you going to do to me?
'

'
I said, do you
know what they say about guys like you ... always attacking us, calling us
queer! You know what they say?
'

'
No. No,
'
he yelled out,
'
I don
'
t know,
please, please I have a family.
'

'
They say you
'
re the queers! It
'
s suppressed in you ...
'

'
No, please,
please,
'
he whimpered.

I pushed his face into the pillow and
grabbed up the phallic looking pink champagne bottle.

There was still plenty of fizz left in
the bottle, as I pressed it into his ass it sprayed about like a power-hose.

I could listen to those screams all
day, I thought, they sounded like, no, they fucking told me, the world was mine
now.

They must have stopped for a time
before I noticed the bed had turned black and damp and the bottle was no more
than a shard of glass in my hand.

The last I remember was the hooker
scrambling for her purse and the sound her .45 made as she pumped a round into
me. I don
'
t recall feeling a
thing, but then, a 55-inch chest carries plenty padding.

The Long Drop

Sometimes it was the thing to do.

There was no keeping the needle under seventy; eighty
was a trial, but the lights went out when the grille clipped the dumpster.
These dark country roads called for careful driving; stick in the dirt from the
slips and the wet
—
and the fact that this was the
night luck ran out on us
—
we were always going to go
to shit.

The Toyota came to rest on its roof; Craven watched the
wheels spinning and shook his head. He tried to crack his backbone into place.
'
The car's fucking finished. We're finished.
'

'
Oh, y'think?
'
said Lois. She had a deep cut above her left eye, it looked like jello when she
dabbed it with her shirtsleeve. As her flannel rode up I saw the SIG Sauer was
still tucked in her waistband. That was something.

'
You need to get rid of that,
'
said Craven,
'
'we're finished!
'

She turned to me, gave a slight sigh, then looked back
to her shirtsleeve.
'
Oh, I'm good for now.
'

Her tone was enough for Craven to fire up.
'
Someone's been killed. We're fucked.
'

He strode forward and flagged his arms like he'd lost
control again.

Lois didn't like that. The way her lip twitched, the way
she narrowed her eyes ... I could almost smell her anger.

She removed the pistol.

I knew to look away.

For a second, the spinning wheels of the car were lit by
the muzzle flash.

****

I'd met Craven at NA, it was three weeks after my
split with Pam, two weeks before Lois crossed the dark divide into the long
drop that was my life.

Craven was an old hand at kicking; he was wrapped far
too tight for the real world and meth was his crutch. I liked to think I had
the edge on him in that regard. When I used, it was because I was bored. Or
working a job.

'
So, how'd you end up here?
'
Craven collared me at the coffee counter; he twitched and
oozed sweat from his heavy brows. His hairline was receding and some freckles
on his crown looked like they were ready to slide down his face.

'
Do I know you?
'

He shot up his hands.
'
Whoa,
easy cowboy!
'

'
Don't call me that, please.
'

'
You object to being called
cowboy? Or, you're just not real friendly?
'
The tone
was queer, but I didn't have him down as a homosexual. Either way, it had taken
less than two minutes for me to tire of him.
'
I don't
like people messing with me.
'

'
Well, fuck you!
'
He made a dramatic flourish with his coffee cup; some grey
liquid spilled on the floor. A few heads turned.

I moved off, found a vantage point by the doorway — it
seemed a good place to assess the crowd. I soon had them sussed. The room was
full of trembling, bug-eyed losers, all except the one. I watched over the cold
decaf as Craven made a bee-line for her.

I wished I had his courage — Pam had taken that.

****

The lot held only two vehicles, three if you
included the trail bike a group of kids were using to burn doughnuts on the
asphalt. I watched them from below a to-let sign hung over the door of a
long-vacated HoJo's. The neighbourhood had lost its sparkle.
Brownstones
were being boarded-up left and right; cops kept clear.

'This'll do,' said Craven.

'You sure?' I said.

'Oh, yeah ... these Toyotas, can't kill
'em with an axe.'

I took his word. Watched him approach
with his steel rule outstretched; it didn't take him long to make the ignition
kick, then the engine purred to life.

I ran to the passenger's door. Craven
gunned the gas.

As we drove he lit a Montecristo; said
it was 'his thing' on a job. I didn't question it — I had met a lot of guys
with strange rituals and superstitions. This wasn't any take down, though. We'd
moved up a league. The thought made me edgy.

'Hey buddy boy ... you keeping it
together there?' said Craven.

I turned to face him, 'Me?'

'You think I'm talking to Mr Magic
Tree? Fucking-A I mean you.'

'Don't worry about me.'

His voice dropped, took on a mocking
tone, 'Oh but I do buddy boy ... I do.'

'Cut the shit, Craven ... just spit it
out, where you going with this?'

He started to laugh. He laughed me up.
'I ain't going anywhere ... and neither are you! Isn't that what your little
woman used to say?'

I felt a rush of adrenaline enter my
veins; I grabbed the SIG and pushed it in his throat. 'Pull this fucking piece
of shit over now.'

His face changed colour, dropped
several shades. His mouth turned down towards his chest, as he grabbed for
breath his words came falteringly. 'Jesus ... I'm, I'm ... only messing with
you, man.'

I moved the gun from his throat to the
middle of his temple.

'How many times do I have to tell you?
I don't like people messing with me ... Pull the fuck over!'

****

The job was bloody; I never meant for it to be that
way. I knew Lois wouldn't approve; she had insisted on one thing only — no body
bags. We'd cleared the city, made the highway in good time but Craven wasn't in
any kind of condition. I took the wheel from him but I wasn't in much better
shape. She was only a girl.

'
Man, this is wrong, dead wrong,
'
Craven whined.

'
Shut the fuck up!
'

'
Why was she in the middle of
the road?
'

'
I said shut the fucking hell
up, Craven. He rocked to and fro on the passenger seat. Tears streamed down the
sides of his face as he tugged at the few tight red curls that sat above his
neck. I could see the streaks of blood where he
'
d
cradled her head on the front of his jeans, it had already dried dark on the
pale blue denim.

'What was she, man ... six?'

I couldn't listen anymore. It was his
fault; he rolled out way too fast after we cut Pam loose. Craven had fucked up
twice now — tested our luck — and that was fucking fatal. If I had to produce
the gun again I'd fire it in his face; make that two body bags.

'Craven, listen ... now listen. Are you
listening?' I needed him to chill out; for all our sakes.

He sobbed louder, brought his knees up
under his chin.

'We have to collect Lois from the drop
... if she has the money, we can still make this work. Do you hear me? We can
still clear out … go our ways like we planned. Only richer, a hell of a lot
richer.'

Craven didn't answer. As the wind and
rain picked up, and the sky darkened I started to think of Lois. It had all
been her idea — the kidnapping. I had never had a thought to it; not even when
Pam had turned me out without a dime, not even then. There was something about
that line of business that brought nothing but bad luck; that's what the old
boys said. But Lois was certain we could pull it off ... 'You don't need to be
part of the gig ... just feed us what we need to know,' she had said.

I never believed her. I knew better,
but Pam had taken something from me and I wanted to take something from her.
Christ Almighty, my mind was ablaze. I was full of thoughts of the past, the
present meant nothing to me, and Lois had this way of making me believe anything
was possible. Anything at all.

****

Craven pulled the Toyota into the side of the
street. The SIG started to feel heavy in my hand; my palm was sweating. If he
had made contact with the mark then we were finished before we'd even started.
We were skating close to the edge on this job as it was; it would take one look
from Pam, one hint that I was back in her ambit and her father would have her
locked-down by security. Billionaires are funny that way about only daughters.

'
What the fuck do you know about
what Pam used to say to me?
'

Craven knew he'd fucked up. He had set about riling me,
taking me for a ride
…
but he hadn't thought it through
properly. He didn't see where his joking would end.

'
I ... I ... didn't do anything.
'

He looked pathetic, his eyes looping in wide circles,
searching for some answer that was never going to come.

'
I didn't do anything
...
Is this fucking kindergarten? ... Am I playing with you, here?
'

'
No. No ... I
…'

I smacked him with the gun. His cheekbone opened up, a
little blood spilled out.
'
Tell me now ... when did you
speak to her about me?
'

He turned to his lap, looked at his palms.
'
In the diner.
'

I hit him again, the force of it sprained my wrist.
'
What did you say to her?
'

'
She didn't know me ... she
didn't know who I was ... I just sat next to her at the counter and she asked
me to pass the mayo ... we started talking and she said something about an ex
she had. I just put two and two together ... that was it. I promise. She had no
idea who I was ... she'd never know me again. I promise. I promise you
…'

I took the SIG in my other hand, I was ready to blow his
fucking dumb head through the window.

'
Craven, you stupid
motherfucker. You stupid son of a bitch
…
you never
heard of tempting fate?
'

****

If I had been anything like the man I once was I
would have pulled the trigger myself, but he was gone. Pam had turned me
around, made me believe I could change ... and I did. I had changed so much
that I wasn't capable of living the life anymore. I'd grown soft; that's what
the meth was about. It was recreation to begin with, a break from carrying
shopping bags in Beverly Hills, some kind of reminder of the old days, the old
kicks. I knew I'd taken it too far. Pam knew that too — or maybe she was right
when she said I was never going anywhere.

'
What the fuck happened?
'
Lois yelled. Her blonde hair was tied back tight from her
face, it made her look harder than usual, her features seemed severe as she
squinted through the falling rain.

'
Get in! I shouted.
'

'
What the fuck's going on?
'
She looked at the dent on the fender, where Craven had hit
the girl
…
throwing her little body in the air.

'
What happened?
'

I let her get inside the Toyota, she looked at Craven
rocking to and fro and yelled at me again,
'
Tell me
what the fuck is going on
…'

'
Take this, keep it on him. She
took the SIG Sauer from me.
'

'
What is this?
'

'
Never mind ... Did you get the
money?
'

Lois wrestled the rucksack off her back, stayed calm.
'
Every dime
…
let
'
s
hope we get to hold onto it.
'

I gripped the wheel tighter. I was already upping the
revs as we sped into the rain.
Lois spoke.
'
Now, what happened back there?
'

Craven was stirring,
'
We're
finished ... the girl. That poor fucking girl.
'

'
What's he on about?
'

I tried to keep the needle below eighty but I was
desperate to put some distance between us and the scene.

I felt a cold gun on my ear,
'
I'm
not going to ask again,
'
said Lois.

'
We killed a fucking little girl
... she was in the fucking road!
'

Lois turned back to Craven, he was still cradling his
head in his hands as I yelled,
'
You fucking killed her
... you dumb bastard! You killed that girl when you spoke to Pam in the diner.
'

'
No. No. No.
'
Craven mumbled and sobbed.

'
You burned our luck ... You
fucking burned us!
'

Lois couldn't take it anymore; she exploded.
'
You spoke to her? You fucking spoke to the bitch!
'
She levelled the gun at him. I turned, saw her eyes widen,
her breathing stilled. I tried to grab the gun — her shot broke the windscreen
— I went to right the wheels but the car was on the verge already. I pumped the
brakes but it only made matters worse. We fell into an uncontrollable skid.

The second the car turned over on its roof, I thought we
were all dead. As we rolled to a stop I wished I had died. Outside I tried to
find the courage to go and take the SIG from Lois but I knew Pam had been right
about me all along, I was going nowhere.

A little girl had died, but I did nothing.

Sometimes it was the thing to do.