almost okay

SEVERAL DEATHS IN
THE FAMILY
Chapter Twenty: The Boss, The Bartender & Me

Boss and I walked over to the end of the bar and sat down, careful not to trip over the two dead Mexicans on the floor.

“What'll you have, Sherman?” said Boss. “I'm buying.”

“Beer and tequila.”

“Hey, Jose! Give my man a cerveza and a shot, and I'll have... Hmmm... Do you know how to make a Long Island?” The bartender nodded. “I'll have a Long Island then. And why don't you put the 'CLOSED' sign in the window until we can clean this mess up, okay?” The bartender nodded again.

“They don't like to be called 'Jose', just so you know,” I said.

“Listen, Sherman, the dude's name happens to be Jose.”

“Oh.”

Jose brought the drinks over and I dumped the shot back, took a long pull of the beer. I noticed that my hands weren't shaking in the least, which surprised me. I guess I was getting used to killing people. Boss stirred his drink, took a sip, then winked at me.

“Tasty. That Jose sure knows his drinks.” I nodded and shrugged, took another swig of the beer.

“So let's cut with the bullshit,” I said. “Why don't you just tell me what's going on.”

“Well... It's a little hard to explain, actually,” said Boss. “I guess I have to admit you were right at the beginning. I knew they were planning on killing you.” I looked at him again. “Hey, it was just business. Nothing personal, you know. I was pulling for you all the way. That much is true.”

“How'd you know I'd be here today?”

“Actually, I've been in San Antonio since right after you left those two dead drug dealers in that house a week ago. This was the last place left on your original itinerary - even if you were doing everything out of order. You'd done some damage in every other city on the list, so I figured you'd show up here sooner or later once you'd been to Dallas. What took you so long?”

“They beat the shit out of me and I needed some recovery time.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that's good news. Until I got the call this morning, I thought you might have crawled off somewhere and died. Ha ha ha.”

Boss took another sip of his Long Island, looked around at the filthy room, squinting in the dim light. “Now this is what I call a dump,” he said. A pause, then: “Here's the deal, Sherman. When this contract came in, the boys upstairs figured it was too good to pass up. Some of those guys had never really trusted you no matter how much I defended you. I guess they figured that now that Gonzalez wanted you dead and was willing to pay to set you up, they could give you your pink slip so to speak, and make a little dough on the deal besides. It just landed in their lap.”

“Eighty grand?”

“Exactly.”

“Seems to me I should be worth more like two-fifty.”

“That's funny, Sherman! Anyway... Say, do you need another beer?”

“I think I'll have another one of Jose's delicious Margaritas.”

Boss snapped his fingers. “Hook the man up over here, eh Jose? Uno Margarita por favor.”

“So you were saying...”

“Oh, yeah. Well, the longer this dance went on, the more admiration those same guys upstairs developed for you.”

“No shit.”

“Truly no shit. By the time I was getting ready to come down here, they'd decided that maybe you were a little too resourceful to just kick to the curb.”

“But you let those guys come in here and try to kill me.” I hooked a thumb at the raw meat decorating the floor.

“Hey, we still had a contract, you know? I did try to talk the fools out of it, but they just wouldn't listen.”

“This is pretty hard to believe.”

“Think about it, my man. You go out and take on this entire gang of bad boy Mexicans and come out the last man standing. Who wouldn't want you on their payroll? I'll be damned if it didn't play out like some goddamned Clint Eastwood movie or something. Ha ha! Sherman, I knew you had it in you.”

“It's funny, but Gonzalez actually offered me a job, too.”

“You don't say.”

“Yeah, back in Dallas. I turned him down.” My mind wandered to the image of that blood-soaked room, the two lifeless corpses, the lump of nose flesh in my mouth, the taste of blood on my tongue. I shivered, took a sip of my Margarita. “So what now? I mean after we get rid of these bodies?”

“Oh, the bodies are already taken care of. We've got a couple of cleaners headed over and they should be here any time. As to your future... What do you think about a promotion?”

“Promotion to what?”

“They're looking for someone to head a West Coast office out of L.A., believe it or not. And they were so impressed with you - at least they will be once I tell them how you've finished it up here in San Antonio, that they decided to offer you the position.”

“Hmm...What about the eighty grand?”

“That's pocket change compared to what you'll be making! But I told them you'd want it so it's been sitting in a brand new account under your name since Monday. In fact, I think I have the card...” He pulled out a brown, calf-skin billfold, reached inside and handed me a debit card. “There it is. So what do you say? They're kind of expecting a call so we can set up a meeting. You know, talk to you a little about the new job and all. They know I came into this dive, but they don't know yet whether you'll be walking out.” Boss pulled out his cell phone and held it up.

I looked at the card. It was yellow with an orange logo on it, my name embossed across the face. “Okay,” I said. “I guess it can't hurt to hear what they have to say.”

“Great! I'll call them right now. Excuse me a sec.” Boss got up and walked to the back where the door to the john was, looked around the room, opened the door, then went inside. Jose eyed me warily as he stood over in the corner behind the bar.

I finished the Margarita and held up my glass. “Uno mas?” I said.

By the time Boss came out I was one sip into the fresh drink. As he sat back down I stirred the concoction a bit with my straw while I licked the rim salt from my lip.

“It's all set,” he said. “You're on for Monday morning, first thing. They're dying to meet you.”

“You got me a plane ticket?”

“Right here in my pocket,” he said, tapping the breast of his jacket.

I let out a tired sigh. “You know the more I think about it, Boss man. I guess I could use a promotion.” I dipped the straw into my drink, held my thumb over the end to create a vacuum. “But if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather have your job.”

“Ha ha ha! That's good, Sherman! My job!”

I swung the straw in a short arc, thumb clamped hard over the end, caught Boss square in the left eye, my aim a bit better than was the case on my first attempt with the Mexican earlier. The eyeball popped audibly and a warm, clear fluid gushed over the back of my hand. Boss reached up and pulled at the straw, a panicky, confused look on his face, his one good eye filled with fear. The fluid kept flowing, turning from clear to pink, then rapidly to crimson.

Boss slid off his barstool and sat heavily on the floor.

I put a bullet into his forehead.

Then I killed Jose.