THE BEST ACTOR OF OUR TIME

"An offer he can't refuse? What the hell do you mean? Of course he can refuse it. I mean, sure, we can kill him, but we can't make him do what we say," Flattop protested.

I guess they didn't have The Godfather in San Tadeo. Sad.

"It doesn't literally mean an offer he can't refuse," I said. "It's from a movie I saw once. It means if he refuses it, we'll kill him, and he knows that. You know, that thing with Frank Sinatra's agent and the mob?"

"Who the fuck is Frank Sinatra? You know what, don't tell me. Whatever."

"You're right, it doesn't matter," I replied. "First things first, we have to get him out of there."

"How are we going to do that? It's basically a prison. But this one is guarded by the STPD."

"Great, but it's a prison that also has doctors and nurses. If they can get in, we can get in."

I still wasn't sure how, and it certainly wasn't obvious. If we were in shadow, we couldn't pretend to be doctors in any kind of credible way. The cops would ID us, see that we were in shadow, and that would be it.

If we went in in the light, then everything was exposed and we couldn't pretend to be a doctor. Even if we were an actual doctor, somehow, our ID plate would say that we weren't employed by this hospital.

Flattop had been using the slight pause in our conversation to think himself and now spoke again. "We could go in hard and fast. Put the masks on, your Sunshrouds. Run up on one of the gates, disarm the cops, go in, yank Zeke and get away fast. I could steal something with some balls, we load him in the back and we're out of there. It might work."

"Shit, bro, am I rubbing off on you? That sounds like something I would propose."

"Yeah, you're right. It's kinda dumb," Flattop said with a grin, giving me a slap on the shoulder.

"Fuck you. Anyway, I have a splinter of an idea. Is there any way to spoof the information people see when they identify you when you're in the light?"

I had read all of the book that the librarian had given me, but it hadn't mentioned this. Nothing at all about it. At least that I remembered.

"No, you can't lie when you're walking in the light. Every bit is exposed and everyone can see it. That's the whole point."

"Well, back to the stupid plan then," I said. "Although maybe we can kidnap a doctor?"

"No, hold on. The doctor idea is good, but you just reminded me. Do you ever see that Bruce Campbell movie where he plays a crook? The Sting?"

I spluttered for a moment as what he said sunk in. "Bruce Campbell? Big dude, big jaw? 'This is my Boomstick!'? That Bruce Campbell?"

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, homie, but yeah, he's a big guy with a big jaw. Fantastic actor," Flattop said, looking puzzled.

"Anyway, in that movie, he's playing a conman. One of his abilities is that he can pretend to be somebody else in the light. In the movie, he uses it near the end to pretend he's FBI. They ID him and they get what looks like a legit walking in the light nameplate. I always heard that was a real job, but I've never met one."

I chewed on that for a moment. If it was a real thing, which seemed likely, then of course you would never know you met one. They would always be pretending to be something else. Why wouldn't they?

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Okay, but if you've never met one and you're not even sure they're real, how are we going to hire one? There's no fucking Craigslist," I said.

"Are you a fucking alien, Mack? I swear, half the shit you say is nonsense. What the fuck is Craigslist?" Flattop asked, halfway turning towards me.

I really did need to get out of the habit of referencing my old world. It couldn't be endearing me to anyone, and it just made me stand out.

"It doesn't matter. Okay, you don't know a con man, we don't have a place to hire a con man... wait. Yes we do," I said, halfway through my thought, changing my mind.

Flattop just looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Where do you go when you need something and you don't know how to get it?" I asked.

"Fixer," Flattop said, picking up what I was putting down.

I nodded. "I can't go to Big El right now, though. I owe him a favor, and I bet this one is going to be really, really expensive. I've only got a couple grand, what about you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty light. I had to give the baby mamas some money, and the money for the car isn't in yet, so things are tight."

I'd figured as much. "We can fix that. We just have to sell."

"I ain't no fucking drug dealer, man," Flattop protested. "You want me to drive you someplace, great. You want me to help you shoot some people, yeah, I guess so. But standing on the corner selling weed? Fuck that. I got better shit to do."

I did get it. I didn't want to do it either, but it's not like I had a lot of other skills that would make money. Anyway, my plan didn't include Flattop. Not for this bit anyway.

"Miguel told me that the LSS doesn't have any scales or anything to package our stuff for sale, but he said you can help."

"Oh, he did, did he? Fucking Tio, always signing me up for more fucking work."

I waited for him to stop complaining, which wasn't long.

"Yeah, you met the guy that can help us. We need to go talk to Sharp. One of their safe houses is full of vacuum packers and scales. I bet for a little bit of cash or some product, he'll let us use their stuff. We can't go see him now, though. He'll still be sleeping after that party last night."

I nodded. I thought back to Monica in my bed, thinking about how if that Cartel sword wasn't hanging over my head, I could still be in that warm bed, with her. Or having some nice breakfast. Not sitting in a sun-baked parking lot outside of a cineplex in the middle of nowhere, planning my next criminal enterprise.

"Alright, that's fine. We got a little bit of prep work to do first anyway. Come on, let's go."

We made a couple stops. The first was a print shop. I borrowed some colored markers and some paper. Ten minutes later, we left with a stack of stickers.

Green monster.

At the second stop, we picked up a few rolls of vacuum seal baggies for dime bags and a single roll for ounces. We had a lot of weed to pack, and if we were going to do it for retail, we needed to be prepared.

The third stop felt weird. Harvey Keitel High School.

We weren't at the actual high school, but about a block away on a side street, parked behind Manny's Crown Vic. Both of us recognized it immediately. Only a few minutes after we heard the lunch buzzer at Harvey Keitel High in the distance, Manny walked up, looking at the ground and completely failing to notice the giant, shining Javelin parked behind his car. He looked up when we got out, his eyes hidden behind his Sunshrouds.

"Manny, we need to talk, brother," I called out.

He glanced around nervously, before looking a bit resigned and walking up to us.

"What do you want? I told you, I'm out," he said.

"You don't look out, homie. You walking in the shadows, that's not out," Flattop replied, sitting down on the hood of his Javelin.

Manny looked a little ashamed. "I don't have a car on the other side. And I love this one. It makes me feel alive when I drive it. I don't know what it is. I need to get rid of it, but the thought of taking the bus or letting my mom drive me to school is... I just can't do it."

"Anyway, I gotta go. The Hip. Somebody could spot us."

I exerted my will a moment and felt something click. Victorious.

"Manny, look at me. ID me."

"Huh?" he said. And then he did. He looked me over. I could see his body language change as he read my shadow profile.

"Victorious? What? And that belt buckle. What the fuck, bro?"

"The Hip are gone, Manny. We're okay. Bounty's off. We won. I paid the vig, but there's a bunch more work to do before we can pay off Brass Lee. I need your help," I said.

"Seriously? Magnus is gone?" he asked, again looking around nervously as if expecting one of The Hip to pop out from behind a bush.

I nodded, and Flattop couldn't resist. "Mack here popped his fucking head. He's gone, homie. You're all good."

Manny absorbed that without a word.

"So, I need you Manny, you in?"

"Selling weed again? I don't know, bro. It feels like it was years ago, when we did that. I was ready to leave the shadows and never come back."

Flattop and I waited, neither of us speaking into the silence.

Manny's face showed his emotions roiling, but finally he lifted up the sun shrouds and set them on his head to meet my gaze directly and smiled.

"Fuck it bro, I'm in."