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| The Boss's Daughter, Part 2 | Started by: Deadpool on Apr 20, '09 20:41 |
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..."Okay, I suppose you know who did it?" I was getting impatient and the fat man was playing games. "Yeah, I do." He laughed and sat back in his chair, at least as much as he could. His belly rolled over onto the table, blocking some of the graffiti that had been carved in its top. "Okay, King Lardo, it's time to talk. Where is my jacket?" The fat man waved a flabby arm in the air and one of his associates came over. He whispered in his ear, a second later he reappeared with my jacket. I grabbed it and ripped the lining out. "There's ten grand sewn into the lining. I want a name." The fat man hadn't blinked since the first bill hit the table. He looked like he had just seen a turkey dinner. "Down the street. Fu Manchu's Chinese Restaraunt. Ask for Paul. His men pulled off every one of the jobs." He began counting the cash and I eased the pistol I had under one of his chins. "Listen, Fatty McFatster, I'm not going to forget about the whole "pool cue beating" thing. I just don't have the energy to mess with it now. But, one day, I'll be back for my payback." He didn't even look up, just waved a flabby arm at me, consumed with the cash on the table. I left, sticking the little .32 snubnose in my pocket as I walked onto the sidewalk. I thanked my lucky stars that no one was out tonight, as I was walking around in a shirt covered in dirt, blood and sweat, not all of it mine. I was limping a little and I was fairly sure that I was still bleeding, somewhere. I thought about leaving. But, I had a job to do. I hobbled into the Chinese Restaraunt and was surprised by its elegance. They had done a wonderful job on the decor. A man walked out, saw me, and started to run. "Hold on, hold on!" He stopped and turned to face me. "I need to see Paul." The man was Chinese, but he understood "Paul." He returned with an older man, who looked confused. "I'm Paul," he said. "What's the idea waking an old man this late?" I pulled the .32 out of my pocket. "I need to know about some truck jobs that happened last month." The old man was using a cane, which he raised in the air, as if to hit me. "Now you listen here, you little whippersnapper! I didn't fight in the Great War so you and your hoodlums could come by here and threaten to kill more of my workers and take my trucks! Damn you, get out! And tell that fat demon to go back to hell!" "Hey, listen, old man, I was told that you ran the jobs." "Who told you that? Fat Charlie? I run an honest joint here, mister. I don't need to run booze with the rest of you gangsters. That devil has been trying to get me to die for years! He's even taken to stealing my supply trucks. Last month, he hijacked a shipment of live chickens. He had the truck set on fire, with the chickens and the driver still inside. He's a monster." I was confused now. It looked like the fat man had sent me on a wild goose chase. But why send me to kill an old man who owned a Chinese Restaraunt? Paul cleared it up for me in a hurry. "He's my lazy stepson, see? I gave him some money to buy that place, fix it up like I did this one. Make an honest living. But, no, he's stealing trucks and killing people. I knew he would be worthless, but his mother babied him and made sure he was in the will" The old man shook his head in disgust. "You were going to kill me, yes?" I ignored him as I pulled the .38 out of my pocket. "I need to make a little trip back to your boy's place. But first, I wonder if you might help me patch up a few scratches. I could make it worth your while." The old man smiled a bit and motioned for two small, beautiful Chinese girls to come to the table. He said something in Chinese, they bowed their heads and helped me walk to another room. Inside, they motioned for me to lie on a table. They cut my clothes off of me and I fell asleep as they began to bandage my wounds. When I awoke, it was still dark. There was a new suit hanging on a hanger beside the large bed I was laying in. My little .38 sat on the night table. A note was beside the lamp. "We thought you might need a change of clothes." I climbed out of the bed, amazingly less sore than I had been only an hour ago. I got dressed, put the gun in my pocket, and started toward the exit. As I opened the bedroom door, the sound of a tommy gun erupted downstairs. To be continued, again... |
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| Nice nice, good twist in the plot. | |
| Reply by: Skitzo at Apr 22, '09 10:32 | |
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