The blonde wig fell off the unconscious girl in the rear and Louie Zip groaned inwardly, realizing that Richie had grabbed the wrong girl. He should have dumped the redhead on the next corner and driven straight to Brooklyn. Unfortunately the near-sighted hood on the passenger side of the Chevy would kill the girl or worse, if he discovered she wasn't Caroline Ames and even a skanky runaway from the suburbs didn't deserve to die for Richie's mistake.
Louie re-arranged the wig and covered her eyes and ears with tape. After securing her wrists, he tapped the parolee’s shoulder and pointed to the blonde wig. Richie started to open his mouth for a question and Louie held an index finger to his mouth. Noticing the silent exchange, Benny searched the traffic and sidewalks of 9th Avenue for anything out of the ordinary. Whatever the problem existed was within the car. "You feelin’ her pussy?"
"Just thinkin’ about the money." They were three blocks from West 45th Street and Louie had to adlib a back-up plan before the madman saw the little blonde in the garage.
“Never spend the money before you earn it.” The thick-skulled driver glanced over the seat. “Damn, she’s young.”
"We’re not supposed to touch her." Gucci Cucci's henchman was clinically blind, so passing her off as the heiress might work in the dimly lit garage.
"One, your friend ain't in this car.” He raised the volume of Rod Stewart’s TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT to disguise their voices. “And two, I am. That shit gonna keep her under?"
"Yeah." In truth he had no clue about the proper dosage of chlorophyll.
“She's bound hand and foot. Personally I dig ‘em screamin’, but no clouds, no rain?"
“I’m no rapist.” Louie might not listen to a date’s "No.", but stopped if she started crying.
“At my age you won’t be so picky about your wills and won’ts, trust me.”
Louie caught the distorted gleam of sadistic anticipation behind the gangster’s glasses. Whoever held the advantage was written in sand and he decided to stick with the previous plan, until speaking with Bobby. "Turn left.”
The stolen car passed the block-long gas station and drove into the darkness of West 45th Street. Louie Zip coughed and Richie silently conveyed a assurance that they were ready for anything, even murder. Nearing the derelict garage, Louie said, "Stop."
The Chevy bumped over the uneven driveway and Louie hopped out to check the street. Two nights ago he had shot out the nearest streetlights. Not a single light shone in the decommissioned school opposite the garage and the rest of the commercial-zoned block was equally desolate. He lifted the sliding gate and waved for Bennie to drive inside. After shutting the gate, Louie helped Richie carry the drugged girl into a dusty office and placed the mistaken victim on a soiled mattress.
"We’re fucked."
"I'm glad you used 'we' instead of me." The overweight parolee had a stack of excuses ready. None flew for anyone other than Louie. "You gonna call Bo___"
Louie slapped him in the face. "No names."
"She’s out cold." Richie didn't like getting hit from Louie.
“It doesn’t matter.” Louie attached a chain from the wall to the handcuffs and lowered her pants to find a mole on her inner thigh. "We say anythin’ and the malook kills the girl. Us too.”
“So what we do?”
“We make our phone call and report the mess-up."
"And if ‘he’ says it's no go?" The Christmas stocking was filling with coal.
"We'll burn that bridge once we’re on it,” Louie threw an electric blanket over the girl.
"If Benny finds___"
“'No names and I meant him too.” Louie whacked Richie in the head. “You have to cover for me, when I make this phone call."
"No problem." Richie insolently rubbed his cheek.
"We know how bad your best has been. Let's do better."
The two men left the office. Louie bolted another lock onto the door. It was cheap and Benny Bottles cleaned his glasses with a shirttail. “That’s not gonna keep me out."
"It’s supposed to stop her escapin’." Louie tossed him a key to his mother’s attic.
"Try and show restraint."
"That's the second time I heard that word today." Benny had dropped out of school in 4th grade. His limited word comprehension was fine in a line of work requiring more ruthlessness than intelligence, but he said, "I don't think I like it."
“It means not doing anything stupid.”
“You sayin’ I’m doin’ somethin’ stupid.”
“No, Benny, just that we have to be cool.”
“That better be what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Hey, we’re all in this together, right?” Louie Zip taped over the glazed windows and the garage was soon as black as a cave. The murk enfeebled the enforcer’s vision and they heard Benny breathing fast. "You have lights?"
"Just one." Louie switched on a single 40-watt bulb illuminating a small corner of the garage. Benny gravitated to its glow with the speed of a kid scared of the snakes under his bed. "Shit, cudn’t you sprung for a little more light?"
"This ain’t no hotel." Louie threw one of the coats he had stashed earlier in the week to Benny. "This should be your size."
“You mean this dump had no heat?" Benny tugged the XXL parka over his broad chest.
"Damn, I feel like a Eskimo Pie."
"We have a couple of electric blankets."
"You mean for me and you?" Benny Bottles had caught the two men’s secret sign language. They were planning to catch him off-guard, but one-on-one that wasn’t so easy.
"One for Richie too."
"Then he can leave it for my friggin’ feet, cuz he's goin’ home." He reached into his pocket and they parted to raise the difficulty of him shooting them both. Benny cackled at their well-placed paranoia. "If I gonna kill ya, who’d be the go-fer? Me? Not fuckin’ likely.”
"Louie, should I stay?" Richie spoke his pre-rehearsed line. The enforcer threw a $1000 on the table. "You done great, kid. Now scram before your mother finds you’re out past your bedtime."
Louie Zip eyed his friend. “Dump the car and wait for me. That okay with you, Benny?”
“Make the phone call first.” Benny wrapped two electric blankets around his body and eyed the third. “We have a long night ‘head of us.”
"I’m goin’." Louie intended on staying awake every minute around the old moose.
"There’s food and beers in the fridge. Keep your gloves on. We don't wanna be leavin’ any fingerprints."
"Yeah, right." Benny grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Shit, there’s a deck of cards. You feelin’ lucky tonight?"
"I’m always lucky." Louie palmed the icepick tucked behind his belt. Five inches of needle sharp steel in either ear was fatal, unfortunately whacking a made man was a death sentence in Brooklyn, though only if someone found the body in the wrong place.
"You lucky?” Benny shuffled the cards with one hand. “You never won a bet.”
"Even the worst losin’ streaks end.”
"We'll let the cards do the talkin’." Louie Zip was a born loser destined to be a dead winner. "Make your phone call and hurry back before my ‘restraint’ gets tested."
Louie tugged on his parka and opened the door.
A few rats scurried for shelter, as he walked to the corner telephone and dialed the midtown number. Bobby would be pissed about their blunder, especially since Gucci Cucci would still expect this cut. His friend’s resurrecting the goose that laid the golden egg was long odds, but Louie loved banking on million-to-one shots, because Life was more always more exhilarating when you beat the house with your life on the line, even more so with three others.
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