One For the Road Ch. 05

"10?" I looked at the clock, it was already 9:40. "We're not going to make 10, Tim."

"I know, that part of why I'm shitting. I can't call anyone to tell them I fucked up and have no wheels. But they'll find me if I don't show up and they'll hurt me, Jimmy. I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared, man. You've got to help me."

"Don't worry, Tim. I'm here for you man." Shit, now what? I raced up to route 135, knowing it would connect me with the Long Island Expressway around exit 45. And from there it was 19 long exits east to Medford. Normally the LIE was a pain in the ass to drive on, but this late at night, there was no one usually driving it except for cops hoping to give you a speeding ticket.

The miles passed behind us and sadly, so did the minutes, but the two of us drove our way east in relative silence. Every so often Tim would utter a few, "Oh man, oh my god"'s and I would just grumble to myself. As we drove past exit 62 I gave Tim a sidelong glower. "I hope you know this is a dumb assed fucking idea."

"Yeah, Jimmy. Yeah, I do. I needed the money real bad."

" For what, man? Drugs? Pot? Hookers? What?"

He sighed. "You know, I don't rightly know anymore. Really, fucked up. I can't do this again, Jimmy. I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. My heart's going a mile a minute."

"Chill, bud. Let's do this, and then we're calling your counselor. And seriously, bud. I'm not coming out next time. So don't let there be one."

"I know, man. It's so weird, I know this is a fucking stupid idea. But I have to do this, or they'll find me. What if they find my mom? I don't want anyone else to get hurt because I was an idiot. You understand, don't you, man?"

It was odd, but even though our situations were different, they were also a bit the same. I could understand the situation he was in, admittedly one of his own making, but I knew that he wanted to make good and make sure no one suffered for his fuck up. "Yeah, Tim. I do. But you gotta promise me, no more of this shit. No more. You need money, you get a second job. No more deliveries, no more dealing, no more buying. Ever."

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and rolled his gaze to the right to look out at the night sky. "You got it, Jimmy. Thanks, man. Thanks for being a good friend."

"You got it, bud." I saw the sign for 64, Route 112, come up and I put on my blinker, taking the exit ramp and following the service road to the traffic light. There, across the street was a 7-11 right on the corner. "Ok, Tim. Now what?"

Tim looked at the dashboard clock. 10:22. "Shit. Ok, don't pull in the front, pull along the side of the place, use that other parking lot. Ok. See the dumpsters? Right there. Usually two cars there. There, see them?"

I idled along, following his directions as he said them. I rolled up the entrance ramp and sure enough along the shadowy back of the dark part of the oversized parking lot were two vehicles. One was a Honda Civic with those stupid assed low reveal tires and the green LED light kit that ran under the vehicle. Made it look like a fucking space ship. It was painted silvery grey and bisected with a wide assed pink bar. Fucking gay. Like some kid watched too many Vin Diesel movies and wanted to trick out his POS. The other car was a blinding white and black Nissan 240SX; the windows were deeply tinted and this douchebag had a back spoiler that had dancing red lights tracing the outside.

If one of these fuckers had a set of spinner rims I was going to puke.

We rolled up near the two cars where I noted there were four guys hanging around. It was dark and shadowy, but none of them were over 5' 9" and I got the feeling that they were from 'south of the border' from the snippets of conversation I gathered as I cut the engine. "Damn it, Tim. These are the guys?"

He looked out, giving a short wave. "Yeah. Not a nice group, Jimmy."

"Ok," I nodded, grabbing my door handle. "Get the bag, grab a piece of rebar just in case, let's do this and get the fuck out of here."

"I'm on it, Jim."

I emerged from my baby, keys left in the ignition purposely, hands loose and at my side. I shut the door and turned around, glimpsing Tim was rummaging around the back seat from the front seat instead of getting out of the car first. I was going to tap on the window to berate him when I heard, "Hijo de puta! You!"

I turned to the speaker to see a short Spanish-y looking guy with a number of tattoos and a bad look on his face. He was vaguely familiar for some reason but before I could figure it out he lunged forward and whipped a pistol out from his waistband, cracking it against the side of my head. FUCK! My vision turned red and I couldn't hear, the asphalt racing up to hit me as I lost my balance and fell over.

"Grab his arms. Bastardo! I remember you, you Joder." Two of the other guys lifted me back to my knees, each of them getting a grip of my wrists and holding my arms up at an awkward angle. My pulse was racing and I could feel the adrenaline flowing through my system. But who the fuck was this mother fucker?

My sight cleared and I was able to see the short guy standing in front of me, the hollow barrel of his FUCKING PISTOL, HOLY SHIT A PISTOL IS POINTING AT MY FACE! Chill Jimmy. Relax, figure this shit out,. What the FUCK is going on? Tim? Where is Tim? Four on one? I've done it before but not when one of them has a FUCKING PISTOL in my face!

"Don't remember me, Maricon? I remember you." He crept a little closer, eyes fastened to mine. "Whatcho looking at, tough guy?"

Another flash in my mind and I was pretty sure I knew who this dangerous joker was, but it was when I felt someone rummaging around my back pocket and tossing my wallet to the guy with gun, saying, "Les, we can't do this here, man. Don't be loco," that it came back. Prison, that first day, the short guy who picked a fight with me that I sent to the hospital. Les. Morales. Iron Nation.

Fuck me. Fuck.

I was sweating now, knowing that this crazy bastard could not be trusted. I tried to get to my feet but the two holding my arms were not letting go, and I was only able to get my right leg underneath me.

Les, Morales, fucking drug dealing scumbag fuckface whatever he was called flipped my wallet open, thumbing through it. He pulled out my wallet. "James Skelly. You live in Wantagh, man. That's nice. I always wanted to visit Wantagh." He continued to toss my contents to the floor but stopped when he pulled out a picture I had of Myra and the kids. "Oooh. Yeah. Now this is what I'm talkin' 'bout, Puta. I am gonna have to pay this little bitch a visit and give her a puta de toda la vida."

He turned the picture around, showing me Myra's smiling face; the boys captured in mid laugh. "You don't fuck me with, Maricon. You don't ever fuck with me." He pulled the picture back and licked the face of it, sick son of a bitch. "You did, and now I'm going to fuck with your family."

Les took a regrip of his pistol, tightening his fingers on the handle. The three others with him did not look as confident as he did. Yes it was after 10:30 and we were in a dark unlit section of a large parking lot, but we were still in the open and anyone from anywhere could come by and take a look what was happening. One guy on his knees, pistol in his face, two holding him by his arms, a fourth standing nearby. A more fucked up situation couldn't be asked for.

"But first, Bastardo," Les said, pushing the barrel of the gun against my forehead, oh god, THERE'S A GUN AGAINST MY FUCKING FOREHEAD!, "I'm gonna show you that I am done fucking with you."

One of the ballpeen hammers I had repaired came rocketing over the roof of my Charger to smash Les in the side of the head. The gangster fucker fell to the side, holding his bleeding skull, forgetting about his pistol and me for a brief pain filled second. As the rest of the group was trying to figure out what was going on, a 14 lb. plumber's wrench arced next, hitting one of the guys holding my arms in the throat and face. He let me go, screaming in pain, holding on to his busted jaw and trying to stop the agony.

With only one guy holding me, I pushed back as hard as I could, forcing myself up on my one leg, shoving the other guy off balance. There was a crunch as he hit the side of my baby, the impact causing his grip to weaken, allowing me to pull free. Free mother fucker. I whirled around and punched the stunned scumbag in the chest, his body rocking back again against the car. As he rebounded I hit him a second time, my left fist cracking him in the ribs. He tried to hit me back but I ignored it, lifting my knee and busting his nuts against my knee cap.

Tim was racing around my baby with the second hammer in one hand and a length of rebar in the other. He jumped at the last guy still standing, both of his weapons arcing down. "Fuck you!" he crowed, looking like some demented drugged up Viking.

The hammer hit, audibly slapping against the other guy's left arm, just below the elbow. He screamed, eyes going wide as the rebar came whipping around. But Tim forgot the first rule of brawling - Never bring a knife to a gun fight.

The sound of gunfire filled the night air. Two blasts echoed next to each other at the same time that Tim tried to finish his swing. The rebar struck the fourth drug dealer, but much of the strength had gone out of the blow. I watched as Tim collapsed to his knees, one hand holding his side that was growing damp in the faint light.

I dropped the guy I was beating on and ran to my buddy. "Tim!" I shouted, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding him up. He was pretty damned pale and shaking. He was also hissing and spitting and cursing up a blue streak.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jimmy! Ah, fuck! It hurts so fucking much! Fuck! Ah, fuck! Fucking help me, Jimmy! Ah shit! Shit! Fuck!"

From the other side of the car I heard one of the dealers yell out, "Les! Let's go, hombre! Now!" First one car and then the other started and then backed out of the parking spaces, making for the entrance. I saw some people coming out of the 7-11, a few holding up cell phones like they were recording the situation, at least two others making calls I assumed were to the police.

I didn't know shit about gunshot wounds or anything like that, but the fact that Tim was awake, in pain, telling me about it, and twisting about trying to find a position that didn't hurt so damned much made me think he wasn't mortally wounded. "Fuck me, Tim. You crazy son of a bitch. I can't believe you did that!"

"You're my buddy, Jimmy. My best friend. I don't know why that short fucker was going to shoot you, but I wasn't going to let that happen."

I looked out at the main road, watching the two garishly lit cars make a left and start their way up the entrance ramp to the LIE travelling west. The fucker in the grey and pink Civic was Les - and he had my address and a picture of my family.

"Tim," I propped him up against the curb, stripping my jacket off and pillowing it behind him. "Tim, I've got to go."

"What?! Dude! I've been shot!"

"Tim," I looked down at him. "That scumbag knows where Myra and the kids are."

My buddy slowly nodded his head, jaw clenched in determination. "Then you go, man. You go and do what you've got to do."

I ran to my Charger and slammed the door closed, twisting the key in the ignition. "Thanks, Tim. You are the fucking best."

His voiced raised to be heard over the roar of my engine, I heard Tim reply with, "No, Jimmy. I'm a piece of shit. YOU! You're the fucking best!" He waved at me, "Go, man! Go!!"

I dropped it into reverse, popped the clutch, and chirped my tires as the Charger bit into the asphalt, propelling me out of the parking space. A few people who were gathering nearby jumped out of the way of my vehicle and then ran as I slam shifted into first and stomped the accelerator down. The squealing whine of the Bridgestone Potenzas as they smoked behind me filled the air before they gripped tight and my baby jumped out of the 7-11 lot. I spun the wheel to the right, my rear wheels feeling like pencil erasers as they held the road, my hood pointed toward the Expressway entrance ramp.

I blew through the red light, spun the wheel to the left, and gunned it, rocketing up the ramp and entering the LIE in 2^nd gear and already at 50 mph. I scanned ahead, the highway rose and fell along this length, and I didn't see either vehicle in my limited field of vision. No problem, Jimmy. Time to go faster. Only one way west this far out, and this is the road to be on. I slap shifted into third and forced my 368 horses under the hood to fucking work as I accelerated past 70 and beyond.

Twisting the wheel to the left, I slipped into the fast lane and pressed the gas pedal lower. By the time I hit 4^th gear I was already doing 85 and crested the top of the highway rise. It was dark ahead of me, a few highway lights, many tail lights, and at least a mile and a half to the next rise. But there, in the distance, just disappearing over the hill, was the telltale greenish glow crawling over the roadway.

Got you, Les.

Hang on, Myra.

I was forced to slow down as I came upon a slow moving SUV in the fast lane, slow moving in relation to my own 92 mph. Glancing out the corner of my eye, I swerved to the LEFT and hit the HOV lane, ignoring the white zebra stripes and passing the surprised trio staring at me out of the Nissan's windshield. "Come on, Jimmy," I muttered, taking my attention from the road as I raced under the sign for Exit 63 and unlocked my phone still in the dashboard holder. There is was, second number on my list. "Mom and Pop." I hit the green connect button and made sure the speaker was activated before turning my attention back to the road.

It rang twice and then I heard my pop answer the phone. "Jimmy? What's up? Why you calling so late?"

"Pop! I need you!"

"What?! What's wrong!?" His voice sounded stronger and more awake.

"Pop, I need you to listen. I need you to go to my house and get Myra and the kids right now! Get them and get back to your house!"

"Where are you? What's going on? Are you ok!?"

"Pop, please!" I watched the sign announcing Exit 62, Nicolls Road, flash by at 97 mph. "This is serious. Some fucker has my address, I'm chasing him now, and he means to hurt my wife and kids. Please, Pop, please. In case I can't stop him in time!"

"Jimmy, I'm putting on my pants now. Call the cops when you hang up with me, ok! Don't do anything stupid, boy! I'll get Myra and the boys. You hear me!?"

I could hear the frustration and maybe even tears in his voice over the roar of my engine. "I hear you, Pop! And thanks, really!" I stabbed out with my finger, killing the connection. I didn't see my quarry yet but I knew they were ahead of me and I was gaining on them. Fuck you, Les, you fucking fucker. I'm coming for you. My lips were pulled back against my teeth in a feral growl as I swerved to the right, passing an 18-wheeler by hitting the granny lane with a pulse of my breaks and a speed over 80.

Feathering the gas I janked left and coasted just ahead of the tractor-trailer's front bumper and just behind the right lane travelling Acura doing 55. Sweat broke out on my brow as I accelerated away, the 18-wheeler's horn blaring behind me.

As the sign for Exit 61 came and went, I could see the green glow of Les' car was now maybe three quarters of a mile ahead, his unknown lead withering away. Dividing my attention only briefly I flicked my phone's face and went to the first number listed there. "Home." I hit connect and gripped the wheel with two hands while I waited for Myra to pick up.

It rang three times and then she answered. "James? Why are you calling so late?"

"Myra, I need you to listen to me and listen to me good."

"What? I don't want to fight..."

I interrupted her as I stomped the gas and passed a pair of Ford's on the left, my breaks whining in complaint as I tapped them. "Myra, listen to me now. I need you to get John and Joel and get out of the house. Now. My pop'll be there in ten minutes or less. Don't fight with me, get some clothes, your wallet, and go."

"James? I'm scared? What's wrong?"

"I can't explain now, Myra. You have to trust me. Someone has our address and they are on their way there now. I am racing to catch up and stop them, but if I can't, I don't want you or the boys to get hurt."

I could hear her knocking around whatever room she was in, presumably getting some things together. "What happened? Are you ok? Talk to me, James! Are you ok?"

Pulling the rear view mirror towards me I glanced at my reflection and smirked. I had a nasty gash along my temple, my nose was torn open along the bridge, and there was some bruising around the side of my head already forming from where that prick had pistol whipped me. But I was riding the adrenaline high, cresting the wave, surfing the roar of my howling Charger and didn't feel an ounce of pain. "I'm fine, Myra. Tim's not, he's badly hurt. I helped him and he helped me. And now, babes, I am coming to save you. But you CAN'T be there, ok! I need you to leave. Go now!"

"James! James Skelly! Don't do anything stupid, ok!?"

"Too late, sweetheart."

"James! I'm not joking!"

Exit 60, Ronkonkoma Ave. 1 mile ahead.

Fucker in a tricked out Civic, less than half a mile.

"James!"

My attention raced back to the phone and I shook my head clear. "Myra, I've got to go. I'm almost up to this fucking prick. I love you, Myra."

"I love you too, Jimmy."

Fucking YEAH! Fucking A!! Fuck it all, hoorah!! She LOVES me!

Time to grow up, Jimmy. "Myra. Listen to me. In case this goes bad, in case I fuck this up..."

"Don't you dare say that, Jimmy! Don't!!"

"Myra, please! In case I fuck this up and I don't make it...I...I..."say it you fucking pussy. Say it!! "I release you from our marriage, ok!? You're free!"

"Now?!? You want to talk about that shit now?!?"

"Myra, please!" Quarter mile pricker. "Just do it, ok! I love you too much! I fucked things up, ok? It was my fault. Mine. Not yours. I ruined us, and I wish to god I didn't."

"Jimmy, please..."

"I'm just a regular guy, Myra. I'm a fuck up, but I love you. And now I'm trying to make it right."

"James, don't..."

I could see the exit for Ronkonkoma Ave. whizz by and Les' green glowing fuck-mobile maybe 500 feet ahead in the fast lane. I'm coming for you, Les. "Myra, I gotta go. Remember, out of the house as soon as my pop gets there. I love you, babes! Tell the boys I love them too!"

"I will, James! But you can tell them! Promise me you'll tell them yourself!"

"I'll try, Myra. I'll try." 350 feet. Doing 97. "You were the best thing that ever happened to a dumb fuck like me. Love you, babes!"

"I...I love you so much, Jimmy." Eight car lengths. "Please...be safe."

Can't do two things at once, Jimmy. Magic time. I reached out and hit the red disconnect button. Five car lengths.

Stomping the gas the engine growled like a lion as the speedometer ticked past 100 and I swerved once more across the zebra stripes of the HOV lane. Pulled past the Nissan, I drove right alongside Les' grey and pink Civic and blew my horn. The little shit with the bandana held against his bleeding head looked to the left at me and appeared shocked as I flipped him the middle finger and made to pass in front of him.

"Fuck you!!" I could hear him shout as he swerved to the right and matched my speed, preventing me from getting ahead of him. I looked ahead, there was another batch of cars coming up fast. Would screw me up. But him as well. I followed him to the right, crowding him in that direction. He dropped his makeshift bandage and had two hands on the wheel, eyes darting back and forth between the LIE and me.