Glen
with Jimbo had made the right turn onto the Clinton Township Police Department
and found a spot for visitor parking. Glen had heard the news when Jasmine
called him second after she called 911 from a neighbor’s house due to her dead
cellphone battery. With that being said, Glen called Jimbo and he had to be
excused from work to deal with the situation at hand. After they parked, both
Glen and Jimbo met the Michigan cold as the AM all-news station told them that
it would be in the lower teens that night.
As
they walked on, Jimbo walked in front of Glen quickly and stopped him, “Listen
dude, is this okay?”
Glen
smiled, “HockeyScores and DraftStreet is legal.”
Jasmine sat in the lobby with her
mother on the next seat over. The lobby was with modern blue seats that were
very comfy actually, modern desks and a couple of coffee tables with magazines.
For a police department, it looked quite nice. Jasmine would note that, but
importantly, she waited for a status update with her mother showing sympathy
and rubbing her back. She felt a second hand rub her back too; she looked over
to see her mom’s new boyfriend, a bald-headed puffy-eye browed man who looked
rather ghoulish to her. It stemmed from the thought that this man is a
Scientologist.
“Would
you mind?” she asked him.
He
appeared dumbfounded, “Mind what?”
“Not
touching me?” she said.
“Honey,”
her mom this time, “Barrett is just trying to be sympathetic.”
Jasmine
looked to her mom and said, “I don’t know him, and I feel very uncomfortable…”
She
would be interrupted by Barrett kissing her in the cheek.
That
feeling irked her highly with retaliation away from him, “Ehu! You sick
asshole!”
Colleen
looked with disgust, while the four officers present in the lobby looked to the
racket, two happen to be nearby, a uniformed officer and another wearing a suit
and tie. The two approached while the other two behind desks looked on alerted.
“Sir,”
said the officer dressed professional, “please step outside.”
Barrett was appalled, “But, officer, I’m the
mother’s boyfriend.”
Jasmine
looked back, “Shut up, I don’t know you, get away from me you pervert.”
The
officer in uniform approached and with an intimidating look in his face, “Hey,
weirdo,” saying to Barrett, “let’s get going, or you’ll make it worse for
yourself.”
He
was grabbed by the shoulder and then he complained, “No, I’m from California,
it’s too cold outside.”
Glen
walking in said, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Colleen
looked over with a harsh frown on her face, Jasmine looked and smiled widely,
her second favorite person in the world in her presence, she felt more than
secure. Her mother, though, wasn’t happy, she approached Jimbo with a point of
her finger.
“Jimbo,
what did I tell you about being around Glen?”
He
shrugged, “hey, it’s better than being around that pervert who kissed Jasmine.
I would be very uncomfortable being around him, he might grab my balls and jerk
me off.”
A
few chuckles had filled the lobby, while hearing Barrett beg not to be pushed
outside.
“Glen
would never do anything like that, what kind of mom are you to encourage me
away from him and with that guy over there?” he said while pointing to Barrett
being pulled away and out the door, with the officer saying, “Wait here.”
She
then looked at Glen and pointed at him, “Officers, this is the man I was
telling you about, he works for a gang in Detroit, he does drug dealing and
gambling.”
Glen
looked at her with ludicrous, “What?”
The
suit and tie wearing officer approached Glen, “Mister Fletcher?”
He
looked over to him, “Yes?”
“Listen,
can you please come with me, sir?”
He
smiled sarcastically, “Are you buying her lie?”
The
detective smiled with the typical nice cop aura, “We just have to make sure.”
Glen
continued with the smile, “Boy, I can’t wait. Lead the way.”
The detective kindly lead Glen to
the hall, a large officer with muscles but an abundance of belly-fat followed.
He was lead to a meeting room after bypassing ‘Interrogation Room A.’ Glen
wanted to make a sarcastic remark about how he is not being lead to there, but
bit his tongue on that one. The meeting room had a rectangular table with
modern simple business chair perfectly aligned. The wall was painted a shade of
dark blue, with plaques of officers of Clinton Township’s past and present,
whom are worthy of mention.
“Why
don’t you sit over there, Mr. Fletcher.” The detective pointing at a specific
chair at the end, Glen got the king’s chair.
“You
can call me Glen.” he said.
“Very
well,” the detective and the officer sat on the left and right seats of Glen,
then he said, “I’m Detective Krestanovich, and this is Sergeant Larose. First
of all, we want to let you know that you are not in any trouble at all, but
Ms.” he scanned his paperwork to get the right last name, “Majors states that
you have ties to a known Detroit gang. However, she does have us with taped
intel with yourself, Tommy Melrose and Rob Matney leaving the Macomb County
Jail.”
“Rob
Matney?” Glen asked.
The
detective continued, “Yes, he is better known as Mantis, he is the leader of
the Mantis gang, known for drug sales and also gambling. She also states that
you have a family member in a biker gang, stating that his name is Rudy, which
means to us Rudy Halovitz. She also states that you are in the gambling
business yourself.”
“For
the Gambling, yes, myself and Jimbo are involved.” Glen said.
The
officer and detective did not make any emotion, the two just looked on.
“We
are involved with HockeyScores and DraftStreet, both of them have been deemed
legal and is under my name. With DraftStreet, in which we started in the middle
of last year, at the end of the year, we had made over $400 and that was
reported to the IRS, you can check that. Yes, my cousin Rudy Halovitz is involved
with a biker gang, much against my wishes. I love my cousin very much as we
have lived with each other in our teenage years, but he has his thing going and
I don’t like it myself. Tommy Melrose and I are, or at least were friends, I’m
aware he is involved with some kind of illegal activity and I was made aware of
the larger portion of it Saturday morning when I came to bail him out.”
“You
say former friend?” Krestanovich asked.
“I
played a little innocent prank on him, he is bitter about it. He fears spiders
and while he was falling asleep, I put a spider on him and woke up in fright.
He left the home angry and I haven’t heard from him since.”
The
two officers chuckled a little, then back to being serious, Krestanovich asked,
“Then, Glen, I have to ask you, before you two have seemingly parted ways with
the friendship, what is Tommy Melrose to you? He has been in trouble with
illegal gambling and he has a couple of drug charges. Not to mention, we do
have Ms. Majors saying you were with a person described to be Rudy Halovitz.”
Glen
exhaled, “You’re right, ever since the passing of my wife-to-be, I haven’t
really seen things in the same way. Me and Rudy when living with my strict
Mormon mother, have not really got along with her since my first day in high
school. She was very instrumental in making me believe in the world of Joseph
Smith Jr. Not as much as my cousin Rudy who could easily resist her at the
time. When my wife-to-be died, the first month or two wasn’t pleasant and my
mother wasn’t too good with the sympathy. I hate to be personal, and not to say
it is, but I felt I was in a world without meaning. Rudy was one best pal who
helped me with finding out that the world had meaning and I was able to move
on. Tommy helped me to take me out to help take away some demons that were with
me, Same for Jimbo, and Jasmine.”
The
frowning Larose seemed to lighten up, and Krestanovich asked, “Who was your
wife-to-be? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Sheila
Rucker, related to Todd Rucker, who is the suspect of breaking into the Raynor
home, in which Jim and Jasmine call Sheila a half-sister. Their mother Colleen
Warnock, or Majors, or whatever fifty last names she has, is the mother of all
four. Since the passing, I felt it was necessary to keep with the family and to
assist them. Later down the road, the relationship with Colleen and Todd has
went down the tubes.”
“And
Sheila Rucker was the radio DJ who lost her life due to that drunk driver?”
Krestanovich asked.
“Sadly,
yes.” Glen said with a weary smile on his face, appearing annoyed by that
question.
“Listen,
we are sorry about that. But when someone accuses another for such crimes,
whether true or false, and with you, we believe Ms. Majors is very false, we do
have to ask.”
“No
offense taken.” Glen said.
“This
question is something you don’t have to answer, but we see Ms. Majors as a
person with some mental issues, will she be okay?” Krestanovich asked.
“She’ll
manage.”
“From
what I gathered, both James and Jasmine live in the said house that was broken
into?”
“That’s
right.”
“And
according to Jasmine, Todd Rucker, the half-brother was in the house, but he
was only taking Jimbo’s laptop and laptop only. Any reason you may think he was
just interested in the laptop?”
Glen
began to think that these officers knew about his illegal activities, but could
hold much to him, trying to get to Mario probably, but gave a different answer,
“Jim is interested in both Baseball Sabermetrics and Hockey Sabermetrics, they
are advanced statistics to determine a players ability, a favorite among the
fantasy sports community. Especially baseball, where the 2002 Oakland A’s won a
number of games in a row.”
“The
movie Moneyball was based on that.” Krestanovich said.
“Right,
but Todd just grabbing his laptop is something I find strange. I’m unsure if
Todd knows a lot about what me and Jim do. I really think Todd may of wanted
that laptop for reason to attempt to humiliate Jim.”
“How?”
“Jim
and Todd don’t get along, Todd himself is a homophobe, often makes anti-gay
comments and I think he may of wanted that laptop to put something dirty in the
files and say, ‘look what Jimbo is doing,’ since the passing of Sheila and
well, ever since from what I’ve gathered, he was a victim of an internet
meeting gone wrong. According to Jim, he’s been seriously sassy and homophobic
and is known to set up pranks on people, rather harmful and humiliating ones.
You guys may know this, but he has a few drug charges.”
“We
know. Okay, Glen, that is all. Like we said, we need to check things out. Sorry
for the inconvenience, but we have to check what is said, these are some
serious accusations. But we are knowledgeable of Todd Rucker’s drug issues, we
just needed some outside info.”
Glen
got off his chair and offered his hand, Krestanovich and Larose did the same
and shook hands, and Krestanovich continued, “We are sorry about your
wife-to-be. My wife is a fan of the radio station.”
Larose
added, “So am I.”
“Yes,
I sure am too.”
“But
listen,” Krestanovich added, “if you are doing any illegal gambling due to a
way to deal with grieving, it’s not the best thing to do. There is help
available.”
“County
help line, gambling help line, I know.” Glen said with a smile.
He
was lead to the door and he exited, but both Krestanovich and Larose did not
exit. They closed the door behind him.
Krestanovich
looked to Larose.
“I’ve
seen tape of the Post Bar and Shoreline Inn of him with both people from
Formaris’ crew and with Tommy Melrose.” Larose said.
Krestanovich
folded his arms, “Possible double agent?”
Larose
shrugged, “Perhaps, but I don’t see this guy as a big one. Perhaps Tommy
Melrose, according to Wayne County Sheriff’s, does not fare well in the
gambling. Our intelligence suggests that this Fletcher boy is on a hot streak.”
Krestanovich
smiled and shook his head, “Let’s see what happens soon. The Saint Clair Shores
Police are preparing to get Amel Kalari, he’s an underling of Mario.”
“What
about intel from Oakland County? We can’t do anything unless Mario steps in our
zone?” Larose asked.
“They
are still mad at us for beating them in that softball tournament. They ain’t
saying.” Krestanovich said with a shake of his head at the beginning.
Larose
looked away with aversion, “What the hell?”
“Don’t
worry, Saint Clair Shores has a good lead on one of their reserves making the
mistake and being caught. We just don’t have info now on what he said just yet,
I’m about to make the call, but Amel Kalari should be an easy pushover.”
“What
about our friend we just had in here?” Larose asked.
“I’ll
keep a good eye on him.” Krestanovich said.
The dark condo of Glen Fletcher had
suddenly filled with light as he entered, along with Jim and Jasmine coming in
to. They all took off their shoes or boots as Jim had on, and both the Raynor’s
had sat on the couch, Glen had walked into his room and told them that he is
going to go to bed soon. He had got out of his Ropers uniform he had on since
7:30 in the morning and it was just about to click to midnight. The home was
quiet as he heard the back sliding door open and close a few seconds after.
He walked out into the living room
with an Eastern Michigan University heavy hoodie and sweatpants. He saw that
Jimbo and Jasmine were not on the couch, but outside on the back porch, sitting
on the metal chairs that accompanied the table, smoking cigarettes. Glen
decided to join.
He
opened the door, “Guys, are you okay?”
The
two looked back, “Yes, we wished that another set of condos did not block our
way, kinda wanted to see Twenty-Two mile.” Jimbo asked.
He
saw that the two stared at the stars.
“I
know you guys are pissed off about what has happened. It happened to me and
Rudy and my family when I was 15. Same thing, they did it with a grudge.” Glen
added.
“It’s
not that, we are just glad to be away from our fuckin’ family.” Jimbo asked.
“Yeah,
but I’m pissed. I was going to have a night with my girl, and Todd ruined it.”
Jasmine added.
He
sat down to a chair between the two, and Jasmine offered him a cigarette while
asking, “Are you cold?”
Glen
responded, “not yet.”
Jimbo
finishing up asked, “What happened to you back when you were fifteen?”
“Oh,
there were these neighbors known as the Blanchard’s, one father, four kids, two
boys, two girls, all of them were trying to be gangsters. Three of them broke
in our house and were caught, they wanted us to fear them due to which they
were,” then Glen did the quotation gesture, “a gang.”
“What
happened after?”
“My
mom sued them, we got some money, but my mom donated most of it to a charity.
The Blanchard’s did move away sometime after, and I later heard that the father
touched the younger boy. Got busted.”
Jimbo
and Jasmine laughed, then Jimbo asked, “I wonder if he knows the same guy who
anally raped Todd.”
Jasmine
added, “Wow, we all have something in common, our homes have been broken into
by people who were molested.”
The
laughter erupted and Jimbo was done with his cig and walked inside.
Then
Jasmine said, “I thank you, Glen, for all your help. It’s sad that I can’t
trust my mother, more of less Todd. God, I seriously hate the fucker. I really
do wish he dies. Why did it have to be Sheila? Why couldn’t it be him?”
“Jas,
please, don’t wish your brother death. When I was 15, I hated a lot of people.
Trust me on it, it only makes things worse for you to be better. Don’t spend
too much time hating him.” Glen trying to be the gentle voice.
“Okay,
but I hate my neighbor on the right. My cellphone was dead and I had to knock
on my neighbor’s door, the one on the right, he said he wanted a blowjob in
exchange for a phone call to 911. I had to go to the one by the left, a nice
old lady to call 911. That is when fucking Todd escaped.”
Glen left his condo for a day at
work, skipping his morning run to get that extra hour of sleep. He had the
strong desire to listen to some kind country music of Sarah Evans while making
his measly trip to work. Before he made it to his car, he had noticed a couple
of cars on the opposing parking lot parked incorrectly, with people inside. The
engines were off, and he found that strange due to the cold day outside. One
car that grabbed his attention was a Chevy Impala, a car Glen knew as the
customary one for any Feds, that or a Ford Crown Victoria. Two men sat in
there, looking away from Glen and anticipating something.
Not far from that Impala was a Ford
Freestar, it appeared to be new and highly detailed. A woman Glen guessed to be
his fifties with a blond mushroom haircut was sitting at the driver’s seat. He
could guess it was social services and wondered why they would be around. Then
it occurred to him about the toddler in 322, something he thought of tipping
the authorities about, but forgot. It looks like someone else beat him to the
punch. He got into his car, turned the engine, popped in a Sara Evans CD and
waited a few minutes for the car to warm up a little, then drove off.
He arrived to his office just before
7am, seeing that Barb wasn’t present. While dealing with the new world of
gambling, Glen during work hours was told that Barb was getting her promotion
and she was out of the Shelby Township Ropers and to the Midwestern Regional
Office located in Troy, where Glen’s mother was a top player there and an
employee of Ropers for nearly thirty years. Barb’s official last day was
somewhere between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve, but the exact date eluded
him at the moment, he would know sooner or later. When Barb’s exit would come,
Glen himself would be the top HR person and him only with one or two
assistants, therefore, no ‘Senior Manager’ was going to be in front of his
name, until the Lords Of Ropers, or perhaps Thomas Floyd himself give the
assistant a Junior Manager title. He being the Junior HR person was due to the
Lords Of Ropers’s saying (with influence from his mother).
Glen had put his laptop bag on the
desk, but noticing a leaflet of the sort at the edge of his desk, with a
post-it note colored orange and with red marker pen stating, ‘Glen, please
read.’
He
grabbed it and saw a heavenly-like picture of altered sunshine that had given
him the creeps, the title in Engraved font said, “What will happen five minutes
after you die?”
“Jesus…”
Glen muttered. He knew who it was and he began to find this slightly offensive
due to the death of Sheila.
Nevertheless,
he ventured into the eight page little booklet filled with quotes from the King
James version of the Holy Bible, let’s not forget John 3:16. Page six gave a
good detail on what Christians believe will happen if you don’t confess your
sins before kicking the bucket, by the end or just being unlucky (like Sheila).
However, the next three paragraphs with one noticeable misspelling had warned
Glen about the horrors of hell and gave very dark descriptions of Satan’s
minions who will be waiting for him unless he accepts Jesus as his king.
He didn’t care to read the rest, he
wadded it up an did a hook toss while saying to himself, “Fletcher for three.”
And the paper ball went into his little wastebasket, followed by, “it’s good.
Glen Fletcher is gonna go to hell in peace.”
During his lunch break, Glen decided
he was going to run an errand. He drove into Clinton Estates to take care of a
little business, while this time, playing a Pagan’s Mind album. He wanted some
kind of adrenaline by playing the destructing and technicality of power
progressive metal much opposed to the calmness and joy of country. Progressive
metal and rock like Pagan’s Mind and Rush were favorites for Glen until he
entered college and put the progressive aside for Sarah Evans and Keith Urban.
He finally made his way to the
Raynor trailer to see caution tape around it, no cops seemed to be present and
it appears that someone may of looted the house. He parked by the trailer to
take a better look. After they left the police department, Glen drove the two
to get some items and pack a bag or two, with police present. He imagined by
now, that the cops are just checking up on the place in every half-hour to hour
spots. Clinton Township covered a 5-mile by 6-mile rectangle sans a portion of
the northeast where the city of Mount Clemens was present. Besides that, the
township itself had nearly 100,000 people, so the cops could be busy from time
to time to deal with crimes and pushing away the little proroity of watching
the trailer, such as finding Todd Rucker, if so he is present in Clinton
Township. Glen doubted that.
He exited the car and walked to the
neighbor’s trailer to the right, he had a beef with the pervert who told
Jasmine he wanted a sexual favor in exchange to call 911. He walked
aggressively to the door and gave it a kind series of knocks. Fifteen seconds
later, the door slowly opened to see an elderly female with a smile on her
face, she was perhaps in her eighties and warmed Glen with a benevolent,
“Hello.”
Glen
got the idea that he went to the wrong neighbor, “Um, yes. I’m sorry to disturb
you, but I have the wrong house as it seems.”
“Oh,
no problem. Who are you looking for?” She asked.
“Oh,
a man, I believe the one two doors down.” Glen mentioned.
“Oh,
I have to tell you, the house next door got robbed. I was sleeping and the kind
girl next door awoke me, needing to call 911.”
“Yes,
I know that.” Glen said with a nod and a smile.
“But,
the man two doors down, he’s kind of shady. He’s really rude.”
Next, Glen had walked past the
Raynor home to the neighbor he was looking for. All his times he had been
there, he never looked much into who her neighbors were. The house with the man
in question was a brown single-wide, appeared to be an older one, perhaps made
in the seventies. Glen walked to the door and made the same knocks as he did
with the previous house.
He
heard a man mutter something beyond the door and heard the boisterous footsteps
leading to it. The door opened for Glen to see a fat freckly-male wearing a
backwards cap. He had industrial work pants on with no t-shirt, he had a large
pot belly and perhaps the largest manboobs Glen has even seen.
“Yeah?”
he said.
“Yes,
I happen to be a good friend of the Raynor’s next door. According to Jasmine, a
man answered the door to this house and said she would have to do a sexual
favor for him in exchange to dial 911 when the break-in was in progress. Is
this true, sir?”
“So,
your friends with the retards?” he said with a smile on his face.
Glen
shrugged, “I wouldn’t say they are.”
“Yeah,
I did it,” then he poured a face of anger, “what the fuck are you gonna do
about it?” he said while attempting to impersonate a voice of a ghetto
gangster.
Glen
gave a wry smile and said, “Hmm…”
Then
suddenly, he lifted his leg for a quick kick to his balls. The man doubled down
in pain, with Glen adding more salt to the wound by getting a good kick to his
mouth, knocking out a tooth.
“My
advice, stay in Clinton Township, you’d have a very hard time on McNichols and
Wyoming.”
He
walked away with the man whaling in painful agony, with the door open letting
in the cold air. Glen just walked back into his Ford Focus and drove off, he
had to get back to work.
“Yeah, you fucked up big time.”
Mantis said to Tommy.
Just
like the previous day, Tommy was sitting across from Mantis in the living room.
FroNerd and another who belong to the gang had sat in the kitchen, counting
money from previous winnings.
“Listen,
I got kicked out. It’s a bar with white people in it, they get freaky when a
black man gets a little angry.”
“You
suppose to chill out, motherfucker. Don’t go into these bars with mainly white
people and act like a bitch, you will get pushed out. Same as those fuckers
from the EP gang, you shoulda followed them home, you won that bet.” Mantis
said.
“I
was worried that if I stayed in town, the cops would get me.” Tommy added.
Mantis
shook his head, “Listen motherfucker, you by yourself is shit. I guess we need
Glen around to keep you intact. You don’t need to be afraid of those punk-ass
Eastpointe cops.”
Tommy
shrugged, “I heard stories, I’m afraid of them, they all have itchy trigger
fingers.”
“Don’t
be a damn pussy, you wanted to hang in the suburbs, act suburban motherfucker.”
Then Mantis took ease, “throw away all those rap CDs, start buying CD’s from
that fucking band LMFAO,” followed by a laugh, with FroNerd joining too.
Tommy
shook his head and looked away.
“Lucky
my girl ain’t here, I’d kick your black ass right in front of her.”
“Shorty?”
Tommy asked in disgust.
“Not
shorty, Sinnamon.” Mantis replied.
“Oh.”
That
followed by more laughter by FroNerd and his pal, and FroNerd asked, “Yo,
Mantis, why the fuck you keeping Tom around?”
“He
has a hot commodity, I need that Glen guy playing on my team. He’s gonna be our
starter.” Mantis added while staring into the Eazy-E plaque he had on his wall.
“What
about Tommy?” FroNerd asked.
“He’s
about to get his ass kicked unless he comes up with some ideas, or goes to
Eastpointe to collect.” Mantis then turned to Tommy, “In fact, why don’t you go
to Eastpointe and collect. I bet that faggot Leland over there who lives in
that hoarded house has the money.”
“I
ain’t goin’ in there, it stank like shit in that house.” Tommy retaliated,
“it’s like one of those fuckin’ houses in that show hoarders. Man, gimme the
phone, I’m gonna find out how to contact that show. Bring ‘em down there.”
He
then walked to the kitchen, until Mantis got in his way, appearing infuriated
with wide eyes, “Listen motherfucker, I don’t give a fuck about the EP Thugz
ringleader’s personal life, or if he’s a hoarder, the motherfucker owes us
$2,000 for a bet he hasn’t paid for. Get your punk ass in the car and go
collect, and think of any ideas on how we can get your friend with us, so he
can win us money and not fuck up, like you and those faggots from the EP
Thugz.”
He
then shoved Tommy to the floor and walked to the living room, and tossed
Tommy’s keys onto him.
“Get
rollin’ bitch.” Mantis said.
Then
he went to the kitchen, “Fro, call that faggot and tell him Tommy is coming to
collect. I also want to talk to him, I think I have an idea to get this guy
in.”
Tommy
got up and waltz into the kitchen with a bright smile on his face, “Nah, I got
an idea!” he said.
He
approached the kitchen table with stars in his eyes.
“I
got an idea!” Tommy added while stopping at the table, giving it a shake.
“Whoa,
relax fuckhead.” FroNerd said.
The
smile was still intact while he held his had up, palm facing everyone else, “I
can get Glen in, don’t call those fags from Eastpointe, I can get Glen in.”
Mantis
lightened up and crossed his arms filled with muscle, “Okay, tell us.”
Glen did the typical job duties
while sitting on his desk and typing away at the computer, seeing that it was
3:00pm. The phone had ringed and he picked it up, expecting some interesting
news, hopefully good, “Human Resources, Glen speaking?”
“Glen
Fletcher, this is Detective Krestanovich.”
“Um,
yes, how are we?”
“I’m
fine here, I hope I’m not disturbing you from your job.”
“No,
you are not.”
“Mr.
Todd Rucker was booked into Wayne County Jail Division Two at approximately
five hours ago.”
“Six
in the morning?”
“Yes,
he apparently went into Detroit, got into trouble for soliciting a prostitute.”
Glen
paused at that, just how pathetic Todd had gone down to is what got him with
the troubling, yet silly thought. And he had heard that Wayne County Jail
Division Two jail is a very rough one, with 2/3 of the inmates being black and
held many gang members who have been caught. Todd surely is in deep trouble.
“Mr.
Fletcher?” Krestanovich muttered over the phone.
“Yes,
sorry, little too much info to absorb.” Glen said.
“I
imagine so, I have just also informed his mother, I haven’t called other family
members yet. And I’m rather swamped right now with a few cases.”
“I’ll
contact his brother and sister about the good news.”
Krestanovich
laughed, “Okay, thank you.” Then he hung up.
Glen went on to call Jim on his cell
phone, he answered with “Glen?”
“Your
brother Todd got caught with a hooker and is in one of the worst jails ever.”
“Really?”
“Yes,
according to that detective who called me just now.”
“Wow,
listen, the fuckin’ temp place called me to say I’m off the job until I can
prove that what had happen did happen. The lady who called me was being a cunt,
just like when I applied there.”
“Get
me a fax number, I’ll fax or e-mail what they need from you, then you can
return to work. It’s one of those named temp offices, right?”
“Yeah,”
Jimbo mentioned the name of the temp office.
“That’s
the same one that gave us the temps we have now. I know the woman who is being
a cunt to you, I’ll take care of this personally and get you back to work.”
“Are
you going to tell her I called her a cunt?”
Jimbo asked.
“No,
you and I both can agree that this woman is a total See You Next Tuesday.”
“Okay,
but why Glen? I already work for you on that little job we have.”
“It’s
because you need that job to cover what might happen next. Get crackin’ on
those numbers.” Glen said, next, the door opened with Barb entering with a
short woman with long black hair, wearing dorky glasses, dressed in a white
blouse with a black dress coat under it, with matching dress pants. Barb was
saying something to the woman, but Glen paid mind to his phone call.
“Okay,
James, I’ll get to that fax right away, I had the man himself e-mail me the
report. I got to go, my boss is here.” Glen said, next to hang-up the phone.
“Glen,
I want to introduce you to Loraine Bulbinski, she will be your assistant once I
leave here as you assume the role as sole HR manager.”
Glen
stood up and shook hands with her as the three had pleasant smiles on their
faces and he added, “Well, if you do a good job, you can be Jr. Human Resources
Manager in the matter of a few months.”
“Yes,”
Barb added, “Glen was able to do that.”
She
chuckled, “I hope so.”
“Listen,
why don’t you two get yourself acquainted. You two will be working with each
other pretty soon,” next to tell Loraine, “he’ll be your boss.”
Barb
walked away and she chuckled lightly.
“You
could sit down on that seat if you wish, you can pull it up in front of me.”
Glen said while pointing out the seat by his desk.
“Okay,
is the chair heavy?” She asked while walking towards it, the sound of her steps
indicated to Glen that she was wearing high heels.
“No,
want me to get for you?” Glen offering while he was about to stand up.
“No,
if it isn’t heavy, I can do it.” She said while grabbing the seat and putting
it in front of his desk, Glen went on to his work e-mail to see two emails, one
was work related while the other was from Colleen with the subject in capital
letters reading, ‘You are in asshole.’ He regarded that but went to the e-mail
from the Clinton Township Police Department sending him the file on PDF format.
While so, he asked Loraine, “So, how long have you worked at Ropers? Or are you
just fresh out of college?”
“I
worked a few years at the one in Roseville, it’s where I’m from.” She said.
The
paused Glen and he said, “Roseville? I worked there.”
He
eyes widened, “Really, when?”
“Oh,
in the late 90s to when I finished college.”
“Oh,
well, I just started a few years ago, I was working there while going to
college, at Macomb Community, the one at Twelve Mile.”
“Twelve
Mile High,” Glen calling that college by its well-known name, while printing a
copy of the police files. Personal use of Ropers computers were not allowed,
but everybody and anybody can easily violate those rules with the very nil chance
of repercussions.
“Yes,
Twelve Mile High, is that where you went?” she said while looking for
credentials on the wall, in which Glen did not have any.
“I
went to Eastern Michigan.”
“Oh,
I knew someone over there, what was his name?” She said, while looking away
with wonder.
While
so, Glen regarded her, but for his own booming curiosity, he wanted to look at
that e-mail Colleen sent him.
“Do
you know a Jason Bellrom?”
“He
was in one of my classes come to think of it, but I never knew him personally.”
“Oh,
he was in the National Honors Society in my school, like me. They’re were very
few of us in my school.”
“Did
you go to Rosedale High?” Glen asked while opening that e-mail through Outlook,
while trying to show Loraine that he was interested in her.
“Yes,
pretty rough school though.” She said with a chuckle.
“Don’t
worry, I was at your competition, East Detroit High.”
“Really?”
“Yes,
I was.” Glen added, while regarding the e-mail. The e-mail started with Colleen
asking on how Glen himself could just take her kids away from her, he then said
with sarcasm, “Boy, do those solicitors somehow get your work e-mail and send
you those amazing offers.”
Loraine
chuckled at that, “Will I get my own e-mail when I officially get the job?”
“Yes,
you should. I’ll see to that, I was once the IT assistant here.”
“How
come you went to Human Resources?”
“I
didn’t want to, it was really forced upon me, it’s not hard. Promotion comes in
faster.”
She
smiled again, “Really?”
He
pointed to her, “If you do good, it will come up before you know it.” While
that, the printed PDF police file came out of the printer, Glen put his index
finger while he got up and headed to the printer near Barb’s desk, “I have to
fax this, what exactly were you doing over there at the Roseville Ropers?”
“Oh,
I first started as a front end assistant. Once I passed the ninety days, I
worked in the woman’s department with at times working in customer service.”
She said.
Glen
got the paper from the printer and walked to the fax with the business card of
the temp office in question handy, and sent the fax.
“But,
I have to say, some of these customers got awfully mad about small things… I
probably shouldn’t of said that.”
“Trust
me on that, I saw for myself.” Glen said, he wondered if she was referring to a
certain few black female customers who often shopped there during his day, who
often complained to customer service, not limited to other employees.
“Yeah,
well, it wasn’t too bad. But I finished up at Twelve Mile High with my degree
in business, and I want to make the next step. I don’t want to be customer
service for too long.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, you surely
deserve it.” Glen said while he circled to his desk. While so, beyond all that
mumble-jumble that Colleen written in that e-mail, but the last line stated, ‘I
also e-mailed your boss about how much of a fuckin’ asshole you are. I told him
about the gambling, the drugs, the bullshit. YOU WILL GET FIRED.”
“Oh
boy, another e-mail from the Midwest office.” Glen played it out.
“You
mean, the one in Troy?” She asked.
“Yes,
we get quite a few of those during December. It’s usually for all people or
just for the higher-ups.” Glen stating a fact, in which the people from his
mom’s office do send a slew to all salaried employees, “nevertheless, I think
you should have been here on Black Friday.”
“Oh,
was it hectic? It was at Roseville.” She asked.
“Yes,
it was, I came in to be a front-end assistant for twelve hours.”
Some
knocks hit the door with Tom Floyd entering in, the two looked over to see the
suit and tie wearing man with a full smile on his face. Glen saw Loraine get up
nervously, chances were good that his new underling was often distressed around
upper management. One could tell by his tag stating, ‘Thomas Floyd, Store
Manager.’
Glen
attempted to help her out, “Tom, this is Loraine Bulbinski; she is our new
assistant in Human Resources.”
Thomas
smiled, “Ms. Bulbinski?”
She
had a tense smile on her face, “Y-you can call me Loraine, or Ms. B.”
Glen
got off of his chair, looking to do whatever he needed to do to make Loraine
feel at ease, she had the jitters. Tom Floyd was not an evil, ruthless boss as
the one he had only heard of being the store manager of Roseville, one he
himself did not work under when he was present.
“Ah,
we are going to need one, since Barb is getting the promotion. Are you new
here?”
“Um…
yes. I, I…”
Glen
stepped in, “Hate to interrupt, she is from the Roseville store.”
Tom
looked back to her in awe, “Oh, the Roseville store, that is where I started.”
“As-as
a store manager?” she asked.
“No,
back when I was a front-end assistant, a long time ago.”
“A
long t-time ago?”
“Yes,
back when Lincoln was president.” Tom with one of his rare jokes of how long he
has been affiliated with the Ropers world.
The
two laughed at that.
“Am
I interrupting a meeting here?” Thomas asked.
“No,”
Glen shook his head, “Barb let her here for a moment.”
“Well,
I think Barb is taking her break now. Why don’t you take one yourself, take a
longer one. And try not to drink too much caffeine while you are on break.” Tom
said.
“Well…okay,
you sure you are okay with this, Mr. Floyd?”
“It’s
okay, and you can call me Tom, or Tommy, like Glen sometimes does.”
She
bided farewell and left the office, with Tom closing the door. He then turned
to Glen while dropping the smile, “Glen, you are not in trouble, but I received
an e-mail in my inbox from…”
Glen
interrupted, “Colleen?”
Glen and Amel arrived to Formaris
Pizza. The two entered the restaurant with an older female of Italian descent
pointing them to the kitchen. The two held laptop bags and saw that the
restaurant was running steady with customers sitting at the bar and others
sitting at booths and enjoying some Chicago-Style pizza that was on special for
the day.
“I
just bought a new Compaq, a thousand dollars.” Amel bragged as the two entered
the kitchen.
Glen
regarded the chefs working feverishly, one elderly male waved to them and said
with that heavy Italian accent, “Bona sera.”
The
two regarded him with waves and simultaneously, “Bona sera,” only Amel’s had
the accent.
The
two made it downstairs and Glen said, “I just brought my Dell Netbook.”
“Dell
Netbook? Did you buy the piece of shit at Ropers? I hate those netbooks.”
“No,
bought it at Micro Center. I don’t like bringing my good laptop around, so I
bring the netbook.”
“All
you can do is surf the web on that shit.”
“It’s
all I need.”
Mario had greeted the two with smiles,
but besides the three, only Scott who was Amel’s #1 man, until he was promoted
as Mario’s last in line at #4. Not to mention, Mario’s daughter, as a server.
“Can’t
get anybody to go against us, so it’s an internet day, I want to win some
fuckin’ hockey games. Y’know, in Italy, barely anybody plays Ice Hockey there,
that’s why the team fucks up a lot during the Winter Olympics.” Mario said.
“They
don’t do that shit in Albania, either.” Amel added with a laugh.
“Got
some other news, fuckin’ Juby got busted.”
Amel
and Glen stopped their tracks, Amel went first, “What? No way. If he did, how
come I don’t know that?”
“Sgt.
Salvotore of the Macomb County Sheriff’s told me that bit of info, got busted
on the Saint Clair Shores/Harrison Township border.”
Amel shook his head, "The fuck!
He better not rat us out."
Later,
Glen sat on one of the tables with a Bud Light and his netbook laid down while
seeing that the four games he had advised on were all, so far, winners. This
also included Detroit beating Chicago 6-1 as the second period rolled around.
Detroit was in favor at 1.5 goals, so far, that one alone he could be confident
for. As usual, he got a little bored and decided to look into his personal
GMail account to see any new and interesting emails may have popped up minus
the spam that GMail sometimes fails to catch. He imagined that he received an
e-mail or two from Colleen. So he prepped for that with a smile of humility on
his face.
He
logged in and put in his password, since he hadn't checked his Gmail account in
over a week, he had 90 messages. Pretty much all were spam, none from Colleen
but one message in particular from Tommy, with no subject. He clicked it with
the idea that Tommy was probably sending a hate message.
Instead, it read this:
"Yo Glen. I saw that mom of your
dead girl with Mario's daughter at the Clove. That shit's suspecious."
That put some thought into his head.
Colleen defiantly knew that Glen was doing something that was against the law,
but couldn't quite figure it out on her end. He knew that it would be a matter
of time when she figured out Glen for the truth, and he knew she would use it
against him. He eyed over to Amel's table, in which she was also present, and
standing by him while conversating. Glen waved her over and she slowly
complied.
"More beer?" she said with a
fake smile.
"You okay?" Glen asked.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
Glen shrugged, "You look a little
ill. I been wanting to ask, you know somebody by the name of Colleen Warnock,
or Colleen Majors?"
She didn't spare thought into this and
shook her head, appearing annoyed now, "No."
"You don't?"
"No, should I know who she
is?"
Glen shook his head, "No, that
won't be necessary. I don't need anything else."
She then walked away and headed back
to Amel's table.
10:45pm
rolled around and cheers with hands raised up for all four involved with the
gambling reign praises of joy, seeing all four games won. Mario and Amel sang a
song in the Italian language while Glen looked on joyfully, playing 'Life Is A
Highway,' the Rascal Flatts version on his cellphone.
After the victory song was done, Mario
approached with a shake of Glen's hand and said, "We won Twenty grand
today Glen, you'll be getting four grand pretty soon. But I'll start you
off."
Mario then handed Glen ten Benjamins
and said, "You'll get the rest pretty soon."
"Little by little." Glen
said.
Amel and Glen exited the bar with cigarettes
being smoked and a smile on Amel's face, the two walked to their respective
cars, parked next to each other.
"Four for four!" He shouted.
"Yes, we did it." Glen said.
"You did it. Be sure to get to
Scotty about your share, he did the same thing too."
"Hmm, I though Mario connected
all the dots."
"Yeah, but sometimes you got to
check them. What's going on with you and the basketball?"
"Tommy advises me on that, and he
is currently pissed at me."
"The hell did you do?"
"I played a dirty joke on him,
when I called Mario's daughter to me earlier, she appeared really pissed off.
Were you talking crap to her?"
Amel lightened his step and looked
over to the bar real quick, then turned back, "Mario's daughter can be the
biggest cunt to walk this earth. She'll like you and then she'll go suck your
dick, then next, she'll suck someone else’s dick, then it's like a circle.
Then, she'll go back sucking your dick. I fucked her twice, she's crazy."
"I see." Glen said, he
noticed now that Amel was perhaps under the influence of quite a few drinks.
"You fucked her yet? I mean, I
know your girlfriend died and shit, but... have you been gettin' any?"
Amel asked.
"I have, not from Mario's
daughter."
"You scared? Mario ain't gonna do
shit if you fucked her. God damn, Mario just wants money, he don't give a shit
if you fuck her. Don't be scared."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The two had made it to their cars, but
Amel stopped Glen in the process of going to his door.
"Hey, Glen?" Amel yapped.
Glen stopped and turned his head,
"Yes?"
"Listen man, we ain't gonna tear
your balls off if you make a few mistakes. It's not like Casino, there is no
Nicky Santoro to fuck you up... you making small bets. You fuck up a few times,
the worst that will happen is we kick your ass a little. Now, if you fucked
Mario out of a hundred thousand, million..." he then drew a smile on his
face, "you better be runnin'. But, y'all make little bets, the worse that
can happen is he yells at you. It ain't that scary. We just want some money,
just like these dirty corporations and McDonalds do, you understand?"
"I understand, but I hope that I
don't have to get to that level of being depended on making six to seven digit
bets." Glen said while looking away at the end of the sentence.
"Then fuck up a little."
Amel said, he then walked into his car, started it up and drove off quickly.
Glen
saw that and said, "My girlfriend falls victim to a drunk driver, and I
just basically allowed him to drive out hammered." He opened the door to
his car and let himself in while saying with sarcasm, "Why am I doing
this?"
Amel got off the I-75 interchange
and merged onto I-696 heading eastbound, he was leaving Troy and making his way
out of Madison Heights, a town he and many would think to be as one of the most
boring towns in suburban Detroit. His driving was a little irrational, due to
which he had four Milwaukee’s Best and Mario’s daughter’s new cell phone number
to go along with it. He was listening to one of the many Hip Hop stations
Detroit had to offer, playing some Chamillionaire. The evening turning late
night traffic on I-696 was sparse. Very few cars nearby and the road was
basically open for him, even for his swerves.
After passing by the mile 22 marker
and going past the Mound Road interchange, he noticed a Macomb County Sheriff
getting off the exit and coming along I-696 quickly, hitting the gas and about
to reach Amel, who noticed and became frightened.
“Oy,
shet.” He muttered over a radio advertisement of Flo from Progressive Insurance
telling how much he and anyone else listening could save on car insurance.
However, Detroit had the highest insurance rates of all of the United States.
Amel
tried to play it cool but looked onto the cop with suspicion and paranoia, as
he drove behind Amel and followed him too closely.
“Don’t
bust me, fag.” He muttered again, while telling himself not to attract any
attention to him.
After a minute, the car still flowed, matching
the speed of Amel’s 65 when the speed limit was 70. He kept his attention to
the road and did his best for judgment as well. But somehow, the cop behind him
did not ring his sirens, he just kept following… closely.
“What
the fuck do you want?” Amel said.
The
officer merged onto the next lane and drove off at perhaps past one-hundred
MPH.
Amel
allowed himself to think about the beginning of the Super Troopers film, where
the three drug users got fouled with by the Highway Troopers. He spared meager
thought into that, and went on driving.
The end of I-696 came to I-94 with
the option to go east of west on I-94, or go onto Eleven Mile Road into Saint
Clair Shores. He took the route to Saint Clair Shores in where Eleven Mile would
play as a service drive for its last seven or eight miles, then turned into a
major residential road. Amel smiled on the idea that he was away from that cop
who drove behind him for a good minute, giving him some utmost paranoia. He
bypassed a green light at the I-94 exits and saw the sign saying Welcome to
Saint Clair Shores, seeing the patented blue street signs that followed,
heading to Little Mack Avenue with two gas stations at the east corners and two
shops at the west. He kept driving with the thought that he was home free, and
with fish to fry. He had to talk to Juby.
But as he drove to Little Mack, a
police car got behind him. Amel saw that and did as he was going to do, make a
right turn onto Little Mack. When the light turned green, he did so and the cop
followed. Amel maintained the speed limit of forty, as well as driving well
despite the fact that he had a few beers. However, it wasn’t good enough for
the cop, he ringed his sirens.
“Motherfucker.”
Amel muttered.
Over
the speaker, “The male in the Silver Jaguar, pull over on the next residential
street, now!”
Krestanovich is shuffling papers on
his desk, smiling after a phone call. An officer walked to his desk and asks,
“You okay, detective?”
He
looked up, “Yes, my case that I’m working on has got Officer Juby and now Amel Kalari
in custody.”
“Amel
now?” he corrected.
“Yes,
Amel was drunk driving around I-696 and even Saint Clair Shores. They are going
to try to sweat him out for info.”
“Okay,
I hate to inform you, but I do have Colleen Warnock on the phone, line three.”
Krestanovich
sighed with his smile dropping and said, “She has called me four times already,
sending me e-mails. You know, I’m about to drop everything here for a second
and drive all the way to Troy and have a talk to her myself.”
The
officer appeared confused, “Is she a kook?”
“Basically,
all her e-mails are saying that she wants Glen Fletcher arrested. Saying he is
involved with the drug trafficking here in the county, but no such evidence
exists.”
“We
do have him on survallience with Amel and some others at The Post Bar.”
“The
gambling, yes, I’m aware, but my case against is nothing. He is in it on it,
but it isn’t worth the bust, not just yet. I’m not going to kick down his door
to slap him on the wrist.”
The
officer didn’t reply.
He
dropped his papers and grabbed the phone without clicking a line, “I’ll give
her a talking to, what line?”
“Three.”
Krestanovich
clicked line three and said, “Ms. Warnock?”
“Sorry,
Ms. Majors. Listen, I have more than enough information from you, and I need
for you not to contact me unless you have other information I can use…”
Colleen
continued on the other end.
He
sat back in his chair, “Okay, well, that is something, I’ll add that, thanks.”
He
hung up the phone.
“What
did she say?”
“She
says that Glen has a connection with that local Eastpointe gang.”
The
officer laughed, “Those wanna-be thugs over there?”
“Well,
she claims that one of Formaris’ family members is now speaking to her about
Glen’s activities, now she is saying that Glen also assists with the Eastpointe
gang, who is a farm system to the Mantis gang. It’s a worthy note, but I’m not
going to jump to it.”
“Now,
Glen Fletcher lives in those condos in Shelby Township?”
“Um…
yes. That’s right.”
“Well,
Shelby Township PD is saying they are having a problem within that proximity.”
Glen
sat down on the white couch, Jimbo and Jasmine sat on the other couch and the
three were watching CNN, seeing that Anderson Cooper was talking about an issue
going on in the Middle East. Glen watched with trying interest while the other
two watched on, not that interested.
“How
come you are not going to bed?” Jasmine asked.
“Usually
on Thursday nights, I stay up a little later.”
“You
know, I hate CNN.” Jimbo asked.
“Don’t
worry, I’ll be going to bed pretty soon, you’ll only have to suffer for a few
more minutes.”
Anderson
Cooper’s voiceover while video of a Middle Eastern country in conflict, and the
coming reaction of the U.S. Department of Defense
“Looks
like we are prepping for another war.” Said Jasmine.
“You
always say that.” Jimbo said.
“Jimbo,
shut up.”
“You
got pissed off when Bush was re-elected.”
“Because
Bush was a fuckin’ retard, even all republicans.”
“No,
we are not retarded, not like your democrats.”
“What?
Shut up, you should be happy we have more democrats, they are in support of us
getting our SSI, Bush tried to fuck us.”
“Bush
protected us from the terrorists.”
Jasmine
poured a dirty stare, “There was no terrorist, 9/11 was an inside job.”
Glen
chimed in, “Guys, okay, stop with the politics.” It wasn’t the first time the
two argued about politics in front of him.
“Bullshit,”
Jimbo said with a sneer of his own, “you truther dummy. Nine Eleven wasn’t an
inside job, you and those hippies are fucking stupid.”
“Guys?”
Glen tried again.
“Fuck
you, what about building seven? The BBC said building seven was down twenty
minutes before it went down. The shit was planned.”
“You
are a fucking idiot, that video isn’t authentic.”
“It
is you, dickhead republican.”
“Fuck
you, you lesbo democrat, why don’t you stick your lounge down Hilary Clinton’s
cunt.” Jimbo said.
Glen
chuckled at how brutal Jimbo has gone, while Jasmine sighed ruthlessly.
“Fuck
you, why don’t you suck George Bush’s cock. Who are you anywyay? You are just
some little weak piece of shit who gets his ass kicked by his big brother, not
to mention how you allow mom to embarrass you, I bet you never been laid.”
Jimbo
instantly got up and approached Jasmine ruthlessly, “Fuckin’ bitch!”
Glen
jumped in the middle and spread his arms, with a voice of anger, “Listen to me
you fucking spazzs!”
Jimbo
stopped his rush while whatever anger Jasmine had to her brother had faded away
with the scare of Glen’s scream, which was a first.
“Would
the both of you shut the fuck up!” Glen saying while switching view from
jasmine to Jimbo each half to full second, he continued, “I’m goin’ to fuckin’
bed. If you guys interrupt my sleep, I’ll will kick your asses out of my house.
Do not start with this political shit, no arguing, get the fuck along or else
you can go spend the night with your mother and that goofy fucking
scientologist.”
He
then walked to his room, but adding, “God damn.”
Glen
knew that the next morning would be filled with resentment from the two because
of those words, but he wanted to nip the problem in the bud, and with the
guarantee that the arguing will not come back again, he needed to get up within
six hours and he needed all the sleep he could get.
A
little past an hour, Glen’s cellphone ringed out that familiar Lee Ann Womack
song. He got himself out of a not-so-deep sleep. He knew he was being
interrupted, not by Jimbo and Jasmine arguing, which that surprised him, but
his phone ringing due to a possible emergency or a more than likely
disturbance.
“Hello?”
Glen said to the other end.
“Yo,
Glen?” Tommy asked.
“Tommy!”
Glen started.
“Dude,
seriously, don’t do that shit again.”
“Tommy!”
“DUDE!
Shut up for a second.”
“Tom-may!”
Glen one more time.
“Okay,
faggot, I can hear you!”
“Why
ya calling me?” Glen asked.
“Listen
to me carefully… okay, are you listening?”
“Yeah,
you woke me up, you got my near-full attention.”
“Well,
I need your full attention. Listen man, I gotta tell you something.”
“I
know about Jimbo’s mom. I’ll handle it.”
“No
motherfucka, it’s more than that.”
“Well,
you have a minute to tell me what’s wrong, then I’m hanging up, I need mey
sleep.”
“Well,
I’ll tell ya under a minute, because sleeping is something you won’t be seeing
much of down the road.”
“Okay.”
“Word
has it that Super Mario is gonna down you like a bitch.” Tommy said with
seriousness in his tone.
That
worried Glen somewhat, “Am I gonna die?”
“What…
no. He ain’t gonna kill you, nothing like that.”
“Any
family, friends gonna die?”
“No,
listen motherfucker,” Tommy said with a uptone voice, “when I mean he is gonna
down you is meaning that he is gonna kick your ass out of his gang, or
rotation, or whatever they are doing.”
Glen
paused at that at first, then said, “usually with that word down, it means to
most people that is a threat, those choice of words, Tommy, were quite scary.”
“Alright,
sorry about that shit. But, listen to me…”
Tommy
was interrupted by a black female yapping at him about food orders.
“Yo,
shutdafuckup, I’m on my break.” Tommy said to her.
He
heard her clearly when she said, “You’ve been on break many times, Tommy.”
He
replied, “Don’t fuckin’ call me Tommy.”
She
said, “Whatever bitch, your ass is gonna get fired.”
Tommy
came back on, “Glen, ya still there?”
“Fucking
up on the job?” Glen asked.
“Ya,
I’m gonna get fired pretty soon, I may have to apply for a job at Ropers.”
“You
can be a janitor. Now, how do you know all of this?”
“I
know everything, I’ve been in the business longer than you have, motherfucker.
And when Mario kicks your ass out, Mantis wants you in… and he will get you
in.”
“Do
I have any say in the matter? I thought about quitting to be honest.”
“Quit?
Nigger, are you serious? You ain’t quitting! Mantis won’t let you do that. Now,
we are going in to winter, your cousin Rudy isn’t going to save you. There are
only two big names in the biz, Super Mario and Mantis. Besides, you told me
that you are helping out the funds for your biker gang pals. What happens if
you can’t provide? They will fuck you up once they come back, I know how they
work, they are crazy white motherfuckers.”
“I
don’t think you need to worry about me, how do you know if Mantis will put me
with his crew.”
“You
golden, the words out, you topps. You ain’t quittin’ motherfucker. Just wait
and see, the events I’m telling you bout, Glen, it will happen.”
Then
over the background, “Tommy, what the fuck! We got a whole shit load of people
at the drive-thru. Get the fuck off the phone.”
Then
Tommy said, “Damn, sorry Glen, gotta go.”
Next,
he hung up.
Some
thoughts went into Glen’s mind on how Tommy knew all of this. He sure wasn’t
psychic, as Glen would think all psychics are full of crap. But Tommy had been
in the business since he leaving of high school, things were going to get a
little hazy down the road.
He
didn’t dwell on that subject and laid himself back to sleep.
I
Hope You Dance, came up again. Glen let the song play a little while to look at
the phone, seeing that it’s two in the morning, and a phone number not familiar
to him, but the name said Garnol Barrett. Then it dawned to him.
He
answered, “Is this the boogie man?”
A
female chuckle came up, with the sexual whisper tone, she said, “No, it isn’t.”
Glen
sat up and placed his feet on the floor, “Colleen?”
“Yes,
it is, Glen.” She said with a slurry voice, suggestion she wished for a sexual
favor, which gave Glen the creeps.
That
he expressed, “This is really creepy, calling me in the middle of the night.
Have you been drinking?”
She
breathed a pleasant breath, “Oh, I’m a little tipsy, my new boyfriend had given
me the best fffuck ever.”
Those
words horrified him, especially the tone of voice he heard, that sexy voice, “I
didn’t want to know that.” He said.
“Well,
that’s too bad.” followed by a kinky laugh.
“I’m
gonna hang-up and shut off my phone, I really don’t know I could fall back
asleep after this seriously strange phone call.”
“Strange
phone call?” Colleen asked, still with that sexy tone of voice.
“Well,
yes. You are drunk, you just admitted to me that your scientologist boyfriend
did you, which I really didn’t need to know. It’s almost comparable to some of
the horror films I’ve seen with a strange phone call and then strange shit
happens.”
She
chuckled ruthlessly at that, with the hum of her post-sexual pleasure going
through the phone, and she said, “Well, it’s funny that you mentioned that,
because Glen,” she then reduced her voice to silence, “shit…will…happen.”
“Yes,
I bet so, after this phone call.”
“Oh
it will, it will. In fact, I was talking to Detective Krestanovich after you
left. He told me some things.”
“Did
you do him too?” Glen asked with a sarcastic smile on his face.
She
paused with disgust over the phone and said, “You wish, Glen.”
“No,
I don’t.” Glen said while putting his hand on the right side of his hand,
disgusted by her open discussion of her recent sexual endeavor and also he
found himself a bit rabid by the question he just asked.
“No,
but he told me that you are under suspicion.”
“Did
he say why?”
“Well,
Glen, why don’t you tell me?”
Glen
shrugged, “Well, I’m unsure why I’m under suspicion, what did he say?”
“Oh,
just that you are hanging around with drug dealers and also big-time gamblers.
You know drugs and illegal gambling is against the law.”
“Looks
who’s talking, your son is a drug dealer. Let’s say I am breaking the law, if I
get caught, I can get you.”
She
laughed a little, “Are you threatening me you faggot!?”
That
was perhaps the first time Glen ever heard Colleen use the word faggot and that
gave him a slight surprise, but he continued on, “Inherting some of Todd’s
vocabulary? I imagine he is being called that a lot in Wayne County Jail.”
“Don’t
be too cocky, because pretty soon, you’ll be there.”
“What
makes you say that?”
“Because,
trust me Glen, I know.”
“Hmm…
popping pills not prescribed to you is also illegal.”
“What
you do is worse. I do miss my kids, Jasmine, Jimbo, Todd and my beloved
daughter who died under your care….”
“Whoa,”
Glen interrupted, “woah, woah, woah. You listen to me, you do not ever accuse
me of Sheila’s death. I mean, seriously Colleen? Why are you saying this shit?
What? You can’t get your way? I wanted a fucking promotion in IT from my job, I
didn’t get that. I wanted Rudy to stay here instead of going to South Carolina
so I have a family member to be around, I didn’t get that. I asked any powers
up there to not take Sheila away after the accident, I didn’t get that. I can
move on. But you, whenever something goes wrong, you act like a total cunt.
What the hell is with you? You can’t always get what you want, do you know
that?”
“And
this is how you treat me?” Colleen asked.
“Well,
yes, you just said that I’m responsible for Sheila’s death. I take that as a
serious insult.”
“What
about spending time in prison?” She asked.
“Whatever
you may think I’m doing, why don’t you try to prove it, instead of calling me
in the middle of the night and threating me?”
“I
will prove it, and you will be in a total world of shit. And besides, my new
boyfriend works for the church, he’s going to Florida and I will be going to.
And I really want my three kids to come with me. I just tried calling James and
Jasmine, but their phones are off. So, whenever you get some time, you go and
tell the two that things are gonna change and we are all leaving this shitty
town and this depressing state we live in.”
“They
are old enough to make their own decisions, what’s in Florida anyway?
Scientology goofyness? From what I’ve been told, your new boyfriend belongs to
the same religion as Tom Cruise.”
“First
of all, they are my kids. And they are going to go with me to Florida. The city
of Detroit has treated us poorly, we need a new lease on life.”
“And
you think Florida will be the complete opposite? Perhaps the weather, but you
will see things not going your way in Florida, trust me on that. There is no
magical place, Colleen, I hope you know that.”
“I
know that, but I have been treated badly here, by you, the four men I’ve
married,”
Glen
interrupted, “The four men your married is your fault.”
She
sighed ruthlessly, “Euuu, I swear to you, Glen, you will fucking pay for that
comment.”
He
said sarcastically, “I’m frightened.”
“I’m
going to become a Scientologist; we are going to Sea Org in about a month. I’m
quitting my post at Harbor and we are leaving this bastion of negativity that
is Detroit, and even the suburbs too. I’m selling that house and selling the
piece of shit that Jim and Jasmine live in, you can tell them that. I’ll be
over there soon to talk some sense into my kids and seek to you that you do pay
for the crimes you’ve done against me. You just wait!” Colleen said.
Before
Glen could respond, he heard the slam of the phone.
He
looked at his phone, shut it off and laid back into bed, “Good luck.”
Glen awoke with some lights coming
through his shades of that master bedroom of his, the lights flickered red,
white and blue. He laid there for about ten seconds wondering about those
lights trying to peek through the shades and flying its shadows on the ceiling.
He rose up a little off the bed and said, “Wow, some action.”
Although he was far away from the
front door with his own door closed, he heard the bangs on the front door,
typical of a cop. He rose up all the way out of bed with confusion while he
heard Jim or Jasmine walk frantically to his room, the door opened and Jim
walked in with a face expressing that he was shook up.
“Um,
dude. It’s the cops.”
Glen
got out of bed and looked at him with surprise, “No way, I think your cunt
mother ratted me out.”
He
eyes filled his face, “Uh-oh.”
He
slowly walked around Jimbo and into the living room. He had seen the flickering
red and blue trying to get in from the close-shaded windows by the front doors.
Also seeing that like her brother, Jasmine had the fear in his face.
“Guys,
don’t worry, they are after me, but prepare for some nasty angry cops to barge
right in here when I open the door, and do everything they say.” Glen said.
He
had some sanity going in for him, but he was mentally frightened as he
approached that door, now hearing a helicopter come in and through the
loudspeaker, “This is the Macomb County Sheriff’s department, come out with
your hands up.”
He
got to the door and shook his head, “All this for a little gambling?”
His
hand was on the handle and he thought on how this may have happened. Did
Colleen rat Super Mario out? Did Colleen just finish up on a sexual favor on a
high-ranking cop to get after Glen? His imagining of that horrified him with
that image of her giving head to the Sheriff himself, dressed in his Class A
suit, with his pants down and… well, he didn’t want to imagine what the
Sheriff’s wanker looked like. Neither did he want to think about Colleen giving
him head.
Douche chills shivered up and down his spine
and said to himself, “If that is the case, once I’m out, I will commit murder.”
Through
the speaker, “Sheriff’s Department, get your ass out of the house now.”
The
douche chills went away, but the fear came back. He almost wanted to sob when
he opened that door, although with no record and very little confrontations
with officers even while he wasn’t breaking the law (besides Juby, a reserve),
he knew how brutal police officers could be, and if his home was going to be
raided, he knew he was about to be knocked down once he opened the door,
treated like a terrorist and one false move can have an itchy-trigger finger
cop shoot him for that, and potentially walk away with a slap on the wrist.
“This
is it…” he said while looking at Jim and Jasmine once he turned the door
handle.
He
opened the door wide and quickly, he peeked out.
“Out
with your hands up!” said the loud speaker in the chopper.
Glen
rose his hands up and walked out in the Michigan cold with just a pair of sweat
pants and a white wife beater on.
“Augh,
boy.” He said.
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