“I need to take the cab back, and I need to get some sleep before I do anything.” Deacon announced.
“You’re gonna sleep now?” The pretty young girl blinked in disbelief.
“I work nights. That means I have to sleep sometime.” Deacon replied stubbornly.
Zoe relented and argued no further. They walked down the steps and back to the cab. Deacon didn’t have a watch, but he didn’t need one to know that he was late. If it weren’t for the money this crazy valley girl was offering him, he would be seriously regretting his decision to take her anywhere.
“So where should I drop you off for the day?” Deacon asked while cranking the key in the ignition and driving the car back into traffic.
“What do you mean? I thought we had a deal.”
“Sure, I’ll probably regret this but we do have a deal. But I have to sleep for a few hours before we do anything.”
“Ok fine. You have your own place, you live alone?” She asked.
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with…”
“Great, it’s settled. I’ll just stay with you in the ghetto then. Is it dangerous where you live?”
“Dangerous?” Deacon knew that there certainly was crime in his neighborhood, but he never really thought of it as particularly dangerous, at least not for someone like him, for someone like her it was a different story.
The Southside was where he grew up, it was all he ever knew. The Southside had its warts, but it was a tight-knit community full of block parties and everyone knew everyone else.
“That’s kinda a loaded question. Sure, there’s bad parts but…for the most part it’s fine if you’re cool. Mostly. Just don’t wander off by yourself.”
“Great.” Zoe replied. She seemed strangely excited to be going to a bad neighborhood. “I don’t think you understand. No one would ever think to find me in a bad neighborhood, so in a way, I’ll be safe there. Safer than my hotel. Besides, it’s great life experience. I’ll have a ton of inner trauma to bring out for future roles I may get. I’ll stay with you while you sleep and you can bring me by my hotel later to get my stuff. I don’t trust you yet to let you go anyway. I might not hear back from you, and I don’t want to lose the opportunity.”
“Look don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know you or trust you either lady.”
“Great, the criminal from the ‘hood doesn’t trust me.” The girl replied sarcastically. “I’ll pay you cabbie. I’ll pay the same rate as I paid the hotel. Sound fair?”
“Who said I was a criminal? I drive a damn cab.”
“Right. I take one look at you and see shady. You take the long way, you’ve got a rigged meter or whatever. I dunno what you’re involved with, but I’m sure it’s shady.”
Deacon wanted to protest but suddenly remembered all the scams he used to run with the rest of his crew. He wasn’t really a total criminal, just a lot of gray area. Oh yeah, and that one B and E when they were fifteen. But he was totally legit and straight now.
“You must have money coming out of your ears.” Deacon shook his head and merged back onto Lakeshore Drive.
“I don’t have money coming out of my ears, but I assure you that I have enough to buy anything in your meagre life cabbie.” She returned indignantly.
“Well, you got more money than sense anyway. Look lady, money ain’t everything. And you can’t just “buy” people.”
“Don’t be naïve, cabbie, everyone’s got a price. I most certainly can. I bought you.”
Deacon fought the urge to pump the brakes hard and send her flying into the back of his seat.
“Don’t get this situation wrong. I’m agreeing to help you, but it’s only because it benefits both of us and also out of some twisted sense of justice I guess I have.”
“Right, well you tell yourself whatever you want. But when someone does something because it benefits them, and the cause of that benefit is money…that’s called buying someone.”
Deacon sighed and stopped arguing. She had no idea how stubborn he could be if pressed, but for now he would choose his fights intelligently. He drove back to the station and exchanged the cab for his Cadillac. Seth was accommodating as usual and there wasn’t even a hint of anger at his lateness. The old man was much better to Deacon than he deserved, and he was well aware of that fact. Instead, the kind older man seemed more interested in the blonde waiting impatiently in the parking lot for him.
“Quite a looker you got waiting there, young man. Is this a new thing? Whatever happened to…Sarah?”
“Yeah, me and Sarah are over.” Deacon looked out of one of the bays at the girl standing outside, her oversized sunglasses back in place covering her identity. “That girl is complicated but it’s not what you think.”
“That’s the type of girl that makes a man go out of his head.” Seth remarked as though remembering something from outside a vast gulf of time. “The kind that makes you lose yourself and do everything for her…but be thankful in the end for the experience. That’s the type of girl that eats men and leaves ‘em destroyed.”
“Well, I don’t mean to do everything for her, just a favor.” Deacon smiled and the old man smiled back in a knowing fashion.
Deacon then came back outside and motioned for her to get in. She hesitated, examining the car with skepticism.
“What? It’s a Caddy. You don’t approve?”
“I just didn’t know people actually still drove cars this old. Does it still work?”
“Does it still…” Deacon turned away and let loose a tense laugh. She was quickly getting on his nerves. “Yes, it runs just fine. I just had a tune up and a new battery before it got cold out.”
“It doesn’t look safe.”
“It’s actually a scientific marvel. It runs off hope and dreams. So it’s only safe if you have the right attitude.”
“Ha ha. Is this what they call a hoopty?” The girl touched the side of the car and then quickly frowned at the dirt on her fingertip.
“A what? A hoopty? Naw this ain’t no hoopty, this is an American classic. Just get in.”
Deacon unlocked the door and then hit the button to unlock her door. They both got in and he cranked the ignition. He then reached across her body, opening the glovebox, which was filled with packs of cigarettes that he tried to keep from falling out. He emerged with one and began packing it hard against his hand while he let the engine warm up.
“Are we gonna sit here?” She asked before looking around at the lot. “At the cab…place? Look at all the trash in the parking lot, does anyone clean it?”
“Takes a few minutes to warm up.” He replied.
Deacon tore open the pack of cigarettes and popped one into his mouth. He took out a lighter from the inside of his leather jacket pocket and lit the end, which then glowed red. She coughed and cracked her window partway.
“Do you have to do that?” She scolded. “I know poor people don’t usually have good hygiene and health habits but really? Isn’t there enough evidence for you that smoking causes cancer and emphysema and all sorts of other problems?”
Deacon rolled his eyes, his lips pulled tight. He cracked his window and leaned the tip of the cigarette outside and blew a thin line of smoke out the opening.
“Do you always complain so much?” He asked with something of a wince crossing his face.
Deacon began the drive home. He couldn’t believe he was going through with this. Couldn’t believe he was taking her with him, agreeing to God knows what she expected out of him, and letting this annoying brat stay with him. Every one of his subconscious alarm bells were going off at once, but he kept driving anyway. He wondered how many good men in history had gone down similar questionable paths, all because of a pretty face and a smile. Or in this case, a pretty face, a poor attitude and a wad of money.
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Deacon had wondered in the past while watching television programs how someone could ever be blackmailed. He couldn’t imagine doing something so terrible that the thought of it getting out to anyone else would terrify so much to cause your mind to rather pay hard earned money than have that happen. Maybe it was because Deacon was a simple guy and could only really imagine simple guy things. But it sounded like this situation was more ransom than extortion.
As they drove back to his apartment Zoe laid it out for him, and it was not quite the situation he had expected in his mind when she had told him. From what Zoe claimed, her friend had gotten into drugs. He had certainly seen many in the neighborhood get ruined for the same reason, it was a little surprising to find out that rich people in California could have the same problems as poor folks on the Southside.
Zoe couldn’t go to the police, she said, because her friend had borrowed money from a gang to start selling drugs herself, all to support her own addiction. She had gotten herself in way over her head, apparently with a boyfriend that Zoe blamed as a bad influence to all of this and came to Zoe to try and figure out a way out of her crazy situation. But the gang had kidnapped her before Zoe could do anything.
Now the young actress had followed the gang all the way to Chicago to try to help her friend. Here is where her plan seemed to get a little fuzzy, Zoe had planned on hiring bad people to go after these bad people. She had tried to approach a biker gang first but was turned away. Now it was unclear exactly what she wanted Deacon to do for her, she seemed to be coming up with it as she went along. He had to give her credit for her tenacity, but why wouldn’t she just leave it to the police? Just to protect her friend? A lone girl going after a gang of kidnappers seemed…crazy.
When they arrived at his house, Deacon suddenly remembered Gina and a sinking feeling dropped down in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to let that happen; it wasn’t his fault. It was some primal animal instinct that had occurred, and now that he was thinking clearly, he knew that what had happened with her was a bad idea. But he knew that he could not let her see him sneaking some strange new girl into his apartment. He cursed his luck. He never knew when Gina was watching out from the front stoop of the apartment or from the apartment windows inside. She seemed to always be watching in fact…like a crazy stalker.
Because of this Deacon decided to not park in his regular spot, he parked in the adjacent building’s lot and walked the long way around. They walked along the outside of another building in the complex and entered his building’s south exit. Zoe seemed to realize that he was not taking the straightforward route into his apartment but did not complain. She probably figured that he was doing it to avoid the eyes of any people that might be watching her.
When Deacon reached the front door, he found it partly open and swore under his breath. He pushed it open cautiously. Once the door swung open, he walked inside, ready for robbers to leap out and attack him, for he was sure that he had locked it when he left for work. Inside, the place was completely trashed. The cushions had been taken off his grubby little couch and were flung aside, the trash can in the kitchen had been dumped out on the floor, and all the cabinets and fridge doors laid wide open. He walked into the kitchen and found that someone had even dumped his ashtray upside-down on the table.
“Aw…man!” Then his eyes went wide, and he rushed into the bedroom.
Of course. His record collection had also suffered vandalism. The sleeves were no longer packed neatly away into the milk crates that he had along the wall next to the record player. Metallica, Megadeth and Anthrax sleeves were tossed all around the room, and several of his favorite records were smashed in pieces all over the ground, as if someone had stomped on them repeatedly.
“Aw dude!” His hands went wide, and his brain had trouble processing the loss and turning it into language. He finally resorted to the one syllable that he could think that encompassed his life at that moment. “Fuck!”
Deacon kicked the table next to his bed in anger, and the lamp fell and broke.
“Wow I was expecting it to be bad, but you really live like this? What a mess!” Zoe replied as she dared to venture inside.
Deacon came walking back into the kitchen, his shoulders slumped heavily. As he looked around, honestly, the records were the only great loss here.
“Someone should clean this place up.” She sneered at the mess around her, bent down to put the couch cushions back into place. “Really, I understand being a single man and all, but you live like a total slob.” She did not seem to realize that there had been some type of break-in, instead this was her idea of what a poor person’s house always looked like.
“Eh…” Deacon shrugged and sat down at the table, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t have the energy to argue or explain. He could see inside the open fridge and all his glorious alcohol was missing. He made no attempt to close the door, what was the point? He sat at the table and finished the cigarette, making no attempt to right the upside-down ashtray. He instead just flicked his ashes on the floor and when he was finished, he stamped it out on the floor with his boot.
“You wanted poor? You got poor. You can watch TV or whatever…as long as it still works.” Deacon said. “I’m going to bed.”
Deacon walked back and sat on the edge of his bed. His entire body was screaming out for a stiff drink at that point, but sadly there was none left to be found. A small voice of consciousness inside accused him of alcoholism and he dismissed it. He figured maybe someday he could learn to deal with his problems without the aid of alcohol, but not anytime soon. If it was good enough for generations of men who worked their bodies to the bone and drank their problems away, racing to an early grave and kidney failure, it was a good enough tradition for him. His room darkening shades were already drawn, and he fell into his bed and closed his eyes, not even bothering to get undressed before drifting off to sleep.
* * * *
Deacon awoke and sat in bed for some time, staring up at the cracks in the drywall. C and C Music Factory was playing from the other room, and he grumbled. He didn’t much want to move or sweat or do anything else that the song suggested for that matter, especially not because those people were telling him to. He walked across to the bathroom and took a shower. He was alarmed to see how much hair came out and swirled down the drain as he washed his hair. That would be the next step in his journey of life that would make everything perfect, male pattern baldness. He would go bald and look like those old hippies from the sixties that refused to let the past go and kept long ponytails despite the top of their heads being barren. He then shaved and rolled on some deodorant, put on his least dirty clothes, and stepped out into the living room.
Deacon was stunned by the sight before him. Everything was cleaned up and put back in place. It was an amazing transformation; Deacon could hardly believe his eyes and his good fortune for a change. In fact, it was cleaner than it had been before. He saw Zoe sitting on the couch watching MTV, she barely even looked up to acknowledge him standing behind her.
“Wow, you did all this? I’ve only been asleep…” He looked at a little analogue clock with a picture of a rooster on it hanging ajar in the kitchen. “Five hours?”
“Yeah, I took a nap too.” Zoe replied with a yawn. “I didn’t do it; I hired some kids that were playing basketball outside to do it.”
“I know those kids. You let those bad little kids in here?” Deacon was angry for a moment when he thought of that gang of elementary and middle-schoolers that were well known for petty theft in the area. “On second thought, oh well, there’s nothing really for them to steal here.”
“That’s what I thought.” Zoe agreed.
Deacon sat on the other end of the couch and lit a cigarette, lamenting the fact that there was no alcohol that he could drown himself with.
“So, you got any ideas?” He asked.
“Ideas for what?” Zoe returned.
The young woman’s rigid posture was now more relaxed, she was leaning back in the couch cushions and resting her socked feet on the now clean and clutter-free coffee table. Without the puffy coat on, he now had a better view to appreciate her fit body. She wore a white Hardrock Café babydoll t-shirt that exposed a glimpse of a flat stomach. She also had her hair down out of the ponytail she had worn most of the day, and her long blonde hair now spilled gloriously across her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. He had never been so close to Hollywood perfection before.
“Y’know, any leads or anything? Somewhere to start looking for your friend?”
“Oh, yeah. You see, she was dating this guy. I kept trying to talk her out of it because he seemed like a real sleaze, y’know? He was like a street guy or something but his family was rich, she was kind of a valley girl.”
Gee, Deacon thought, that was the pot calling the kettle black. If this bimbo was calling her friend a valley girl, how bad must she be?
“Girls going after bad guys is nothing new.” Deacon replied. “I think it’s a staple of your species at this point.”
“A staple of…?” Zoe huffed. “Well maybe if there were men that weren’t complete assholes, we could choose good ones instead.”
“That’s fair.” Deacon shrugged. She would get no argument from him defending his nonexistent chivalry. And judging by the deflated look of her at that moment, she had been expecting to start an argument, and his statement sucked the life right out from underneath it. “The story of my life. Life sucks, so do I, the end.”
“Well anyway, I know her boyfriend had got into drugs and gambling or something. He was a creep, but he was a rich kid. He’s the son of some big business guy here in Chicago. She had come up here with him a few times, I think. The only thing I know about the situation is that the last time I talked to my friend, she described going to some club she really liked called the Excalibur. I thought it would be a good place to start asking around. We might be able to find him at least, and maybe he’ll be able to tell us more. Do you know the place?”
“Excalibur, yeah, I know it. It looks like a little castle or something.” Deacon paused as if he were going to say more but then only said “Well, let’s go then.”
Deacon led the girl outside and paused at his door. He was about to lock it up behind them with his key but then second guessed the move. What difference did it make at this point? He led her back the way they came, avoiding the building that Gina resided within and made their way back to where he left his car. When they approached, he got the second shock of the day and he paused to stare at it. The back window of his beloved Cadillac was busted in.
Deacon stood still for a long-time staring, while Zoe walked forward to examine the scene of the crime. There was glass inside the back seat, and she made a proud deduction with her impressive detective skills.
“Looks like someone bashed it in from the outside. The glass all fell inside.” She announced proudly.
Deacon grumbled low in his throat and said nothing in reply. He finally began moving and unlocked the door, a moment later they were both inside and waiting for the car to warm up. It would be difficult without a back window.
“Someone really must hate you. Why are they doing this?”
“Yeah.” Deacon’s simple defeated reply came out without directly answering her question. He would like to know the same thing at this point. Was this simple random vandalism by the neighborhood kids or was this something more insidious and targeted? It was beginning to feel like the latter.
He drove to the station to clock in for work and pick up the cab while Zoe waited outside in his car. He then came around the back and picked her up. They were soon on their way to the club to begin their investigation.