Coleman stuck two fingers in his mouth and made a shrill whistle. “Yo! Steve!” Big waving motion with his arm. “Over here!” (,
“… subtle. Thanks, Coleman.”
Steve came over and gave the pair a look of non-recognition. “Do I know you?”
“Met a bunch of times,” said Serge. “Hotel bars.”
Steve didn’t like the vibe. “Sorry, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know you.”
“Let me buy you a drink.”
“I remember you now.” He grabbed a stool. “Bart?” “Serge.”
Steve raised a finger to the bartender. “Double Chivas on the rocks, his tab.” He turned to Serge. “So how’s business been?”
“Business is wonderful! Couldn’t be better! So good, in fact, that I have a proposition for you.”
Steve laughed. “I’ve heard this come-on before. Should have known: There’s no such thing as a free drink.”
“Seriously,” said Serge. “My business is taking off.”
“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” said Steve. “Your business was…”
Serge leaned and lowered his voice. “I fix problems. Heard you have a big one.”
Steve cocked his head back with a new expression. “Who are you, really?”
“Close friend of Howard Long.”
“Howard?”
“The guy who sold vintage Florida souvenirs at your shows.”
“Ohhhhh.” Steve began nodding. “I remember him. Great kid. Just terrible what happened to him. Absolute shame, the decline of this state.”
“Interesting perspective since you were in on it.”
“Huh? Me? …”-pointing over-innocently at his own chest- “… What are you talking about. I barely knew the guy.”
“You recruited him to be a courier. He told me in the hospital,” said Serge. “But I could always be wrong. I’ll check with the police-“
“Okay, okay, look …” Steve glanced around, then scooted closer. “I lied about not knowing him because the whole courier thing is very confidential and I don’t know who you guys are. But if you say he told you at the hospital … I mean, you understand my position.”
“I understand your position. Ten percent.”
“What?”
“More or less. But ten would be the standard cut for fingering Howard.”
“I have no idea what you’re-“
“You recruited him, and he gets hit on the first run. What are the odds? Nobody knew where he was staying or that he was holding. Except you.”
Steve shook his head and got off his stool. “Thanks for the drink.”
Serge raised the edge of his tropical shirt, revealing a pistol butt. “Don’t be rude.”
Steve sat back down and became verbally incontinent. “… I’m so sorry. It was all a mistake. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the room. These guys are crazy. They’ll kill me. I just want to sell coins. You’re not going to kill me, are you? I’m so sorry …”
“Get a grip. And stop crying-you’re attracting attention.”
He sniffled and wiped his eyes.
“That’s better.” Serge handed him a napkin. “Nobody’s going to kill you. At least I’m not. But you have to do me a favor.”
Steve blew his nose. “What is it?”
“I’m guessing right about now the gang is pretty pissed at you for the two guys they lost going after your last target.”
“You know about that?”
Serge smiled.
“Oh my God!”
“Keep your shit together,” said Serge. “I told you: I fix problems. If you go back to them with a new courier, it could go a long way toward smoothing ruffled feathers.”
“But I don’t have a new courier.”
“I do. The perfect guy.”
“Who?”
Serge beamed and thumped his chest. “Me!”
“You?”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Serge slapped Steve on the back. “We’re going to be partners! Spending all kinds of time together, barbecuing in each other’s backyards …”
Tears returned. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“I’m afraid you’re between a rock and a hard place. Of course I’m the one who put you there. Sometimes I’m the rock, sometimes the hard place, sometimes both if there’s enough elbow room.”
“You’re insane.”
“Just plug me into your network, and I’ll handle the rest.”
“Can’t do that.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“No, I mean my distributor will never go for it. He’ll smell this a mile away.”
“Look, I’m not going to be a real courier. So there won’t be any gems to worry about.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m asking you to plug me into the gang, not your distributor,” said Serge.
“You just tell the crew I’m your new recruit.”
“Why on earth would you want me to do that?”
“It’s better you don’t know. I’m watching out for your safety. They can beat you stupid for days, and what can you tell them?”
Sobbing again.
Serge pulled a scrap of paper from his wallet and slid it along the bar. “Here’s where we’ll meet tomorrow night.”
Steve studied the address. “What’s this place?”
“Excellent joint. I’ve been dying to go there. If you survive long enough, we’ll get to see all kinds of Florida funk together. It’ll be a gas, right, Coleman?”
“All party, all the time … You do weed?”
“What?”
“Just meet us there at seven,” said Serge. “I’ll give you all the details to feed the gang so they can take me down.”
“Take you down?” said Steve. “You really are insane.”
“Going to play ball?”
“Forget it. Those guys will kill me for sure if they ever find out.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ll just have to go to the gang myself and tell them you’ve been blabbing. Sorry, I don’t make the rock-and-hard-place rules.”
“Dear God …”
“Let you in on the big secret,” said Serge. “They’re already going to kill you. My guess is sooner rather than later.”
“But we’re in business together.”
“You’re a tool. When you finally want out, you think they’re just going to let you walk away: ‘Hey guys, it’s been a load of yuks.’ Then you’ll go to another routine meeting to get your final cut, and the Coast Guard will find your torso in a shipping channel. Your torso doesn’t have any tattoos, does it?”
Steve shook his head.
“Then it’ll be your torso.”
“But why would they do that?”
“Because you’re a schmuck. One of the biggest risks they have right now is you eventually turning state’s evidence, and that’s a risk they’ll never take.”
“Dear Jesus, what am I going to do?”
“You’re in luck!” Serge grinned and put an arm around Steve’s quivering shoulders. “I’m your only hope.”
THE NEXT EVENING
Another multi-hued sunset over Okeechobee. An orange-and-green Javelin rolled slowly along the edge of the lake. It turned onto a gravel drive in front of a massive aluminum building with no doors or windows.
Coleman bent toward the windshield. “What in the hell is that?”
Half the letters were missing on the side of the structure, and passers-by had to play Wheel of Fortune to make out the name.
“Stardust Lanes!” said Serge, driving slowly around the west side of the building. “I love bowling alleys! Along with pool halls, they’re among the last museums of the old ways.”
“What’s it doing out here in the middle of the swamp?”
“That’s why I love this place so much,” said Serge. “Nobody expects it here. It’s a complete geographical non sequitur, like when that NASA probe beamed back photos of Elvis’s face on the surface of Mars.”
“We’re going to bowl?”
Serge shook his head. “You can, but my unorthodox style always invites conflict with the management.” “What’s your style?”
“You know when a bowler releases the ball, it travels a short distance before landing in the lane and rolling the rest of the way to the pins?”