Tommy ended the argument, sounding remarkably similar to my ninth-grade algebra teacher, Mz. Augustine. “Got it.”
So, we waited.
At last, it was closing time, and the remaining customers, there were still quite a few, filtered out into the parking lot, talking, laughing, and belching, then dispersed into their respective cars, and in two cases, on motorcycles. That meant the coast was finally clear, and we got a thumbs-up sign from Burt, perched over the railing at the top of the steps, with a bunch of gear.
He pointed to me and yelled over, “Hey, kid. Grab a couple of your buddies and give me a hand with this equipment, will ya? Always weighs more leaving than coming.”
“Sure thing,” I called back, grabbing Patrick and Eddie to help.
We hustled up the stairs. As I grabbed his large cardboard stage sign which read, “The Mellow Sounds of Burt Jones,” he tapped my shoulder, and rubbed his right thumb, index and middle fingers together in the universal sign of money, mullah, cashola, greenbacks, cabbage, dough, my hard earned dough…
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ve got good stuff for ya…”
“Sounds crazy, but some tall chick’s been hired to take out some guy on the island. I’m certain. Overheard the convo very clearly. I heard her name too, was weird and kinda exotic sounding, ‘Madame Gretna Van Damme,’ or something sophisticated like that.”
“Unless somebody’s playing a joke, some real shit is about to go down, brother. Catch my vibe, dudes? I’ve got a story to tell. Now groovy cats, how about seeing those Benjamins?”
I shelled out. Anyone need some lint?
The meeting was about “payback.”
That was the first thing Burt told me and Tommy, who of course wanted in on any action, was: “You were kinda right, little dude. Some major shit is going down between these two badasses,” he began. “I’ll tell ya about it…”
“For starters, I kept the front high-top cocktail table open for as long as I could, hoping they would sit there, and luckily for you little man, they did. Well, she did. Then he joined her. And by ‘she,’ I’m talking one of the tallest drinks of water I’ve ever seen. I’m talkin’ long, tall and built like a brick shithouse. But with cold, hard features man. She had to be six-two or three easy—maybe taller.
“She towered over everyone. Anyhow, tough looking, like I said the chick looked tough, man. Sorta like she was dead-man-walking. The broad gave me the creeps straight out, gotta tell ya, dude. Not groovy. But she was dressed to the nines, gotta give her that. Looked sharp and dangerous all at the same time, a vibe like ‘I’m classy, but I will kick your ass in a nanosecond if you mess with me,’ was what she was givin’ off, man.”
“So she sits down, gives me a quick nod, I don’t know, sorta acknowledging I was there, I guess, you know it bein’ live music and all, and I’m only a few feet away from her. Then the waiter asks what she’d like, and she orders a Manhattan, double,” Burt said flatly.
Clueless, I looked at him blankly and shrugged. I was so intent on hearing his story I hardly noticed when Barkeep Ben walked past. He lingered a little, like the creep he was, probably trying to eavesdrop, and then slithered back into the bar.
Tommy silently rolled his eyes with a “get to the damn point” expression.
“Anyway, it was obvious that she was waitin’ for somebody. She scanned the room a few times until she finally spotted somebody who just came in, and then she caught his eye and kinda nodded to let him know it’s her.”
“You know there’s background music and people talkin’ until the show starts, right? So it’s like I can hear ’cause I’m real close, and I have super sharp hearing, but I’m pretty sure nobody else could hear them.”
“So the guy’s a big, square-looking dude with a New York accent, rough ’n tumble, and he tells her he’s renting on the island for the summer, trying to ‘layin-low’ for a while—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted him, “Was this guy wearing a white glove, just asking?”
Burt nodded. “Ya, I think so, not positive.”
“Sorry, go ahead. Then what?”
“Apparently the dame came all the way from Philly, and if I heard right, it sounded like the guy had provided her first-class travel plus her hotel. Maybe other stuff too.”
Burt continued. “The dude seemed super nervous; he kept looking around and scanning the bar a lot. But the broad, she was totally calm, man, like real cool and collected, totally relaxed, but she had a kinda weird ‘cold stare into nowhere.’ They sat at the table right next to my stage setup, and I’ll tell ya what, little dude, she made my skin crawl. Something was off.”
“Ok, ok already. You’re killing me, man. Could you actually hear them? What’d they say? What was it about? What’d they saaaay…!”
Then finally, the details unfolded, but not without another surprise visit from Barkeep Ben, who hovered like a helicopter. Man, he was nosy.
“First, I gotta say I probably should be giving this info to the cops instead of you guys; didn’t consider that before.” He frowned thoughtfully. “But I guess a deal’s a deal. But hey listen, I want nothin’ more to do with this, and you definitely didn’t hear any of this shit from me, no matter who asks! Comprende, groovy little buddy?”
“Got it. I mean, yes!” I responded.
Tommy just silently glared at him, his patience running thin.
“Oh yeah, so listen, this info’s so juicy I’ll need an extra sawbuck. No problem, right little guy? It’s totally worth it…”
I reluctantly nodded and reached deep into my pockets, the front ones were now empty so I reached into my back pocket and handed over my last few bucks.
Crap. Who knew the price of counterintelligence was gonna be so high? In a fair world the “guys” would have reimbursed me. However, as I was once again reminded: “Life, they say, is not fair.”
Especially this summer.
“So here’s what else...” Burt continued, as Tommy and I huddled close.
“That guy’s lookin’ to mess someone up real bad, and he’s gonna pay this broad a small ransom to do it. Now, I’m not sure if she’s an actual hit-chick-for-hire or what, but it sure sounded that way. Not that I heard everything man. I mean, had to concentrate on the gig first, right? But I caught enough to know you’re onto somethin’, kid.”
Burt was now lighting up a Marlboro and taking long, slow drags (said he was convinced it helped his singing voice).
“But wait, there’s more, kiddo.”
“Holy hell, what else could there be?” I blurted, as Tommy rolled his eyes again.
“He said the target was a guy. Some jerk on the island knows something he shouldn’t and can’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut. I heard that part just as I was tunin’ my guitar to play ‘Bad Moon Rising.’ Radical song, by the way. Really pissah.
