Stone Cold 8: Finishing With Frankie's By Merz One man gets help moving off the bottom, another goes all the way down. It kept getting tougher to scare up fifty bucks to pay off Marlowe's muscle bitch for a week. How could I screw up my life so bad that fifty bucks seemed like a king's ransom? Fifty bucks, cash. That much passed through my cash register most days, but it all had places to go, it was all just passing through and not stopping with me. The lights had to stay on, I had to buy booze to sell booze, the landlord was looking for an excuse to replace Frankie's with a classier sort of joint he could squeeze more rent from, everyone I knew had loaned money to me and hoped to see some of it again. And somewhere in there I had to eat now and then. Plus now I had a cook on the payroll, and the same juggernaut that crushes my nuts when I don't come up with Marlowe's fifty bucks will do worse if I try cheating the cook she told me to hire. A couple of times I didn't have the money and we went through the old routine of her taking it in goods, one way or another. When that happened I'd get to act like it pissed me off and make her fight with me. Well, not really fight because it wasn't ever a struggle for her. But I sometimes got to throw a punch or two or maybe try wrestling just to feel how strong she was, and how hard her body was so nothing I could do could hurt her or stop her doing anything she wanted. Then she had to make me hurt to show it wasn't a game for her and that I ought to stay scared of her. I was scared but I couldn't stay away, like a moth to a flame. Even times I woke up the next day and couldn't stand up straight for a few hours, or the time I puked blood afterward it was always worth it to just to put one hand on her arm or her back. So one night I was really strapped. Business had been lousy because people were going out of town. They'd be back and generally things were getting better at Frankie's, but with her coming the next day I knew things were going to get pretty nasty. The cook, Glenda, even tried to push some money at me because she knew what I had to look forward to and she thought that was all bad for me. I made her keep her dough and just started getting myself ready for what I had coming. But I figured I might as well give it one more shot and maybe spare myself the beating for a couple more weeks. After I locked up I did the only thing I could think of. I took the money from the till and went looking for a game. That's how I got tangled up with Marlowe in the first place, but this time I was going to be smarter. This time I knew what I had done wrong in my betting and playing and wouldn't make the same mistakes. They'd be expecting me to get a little loose and a little careless, but this time I wouldn't. I'd just play until I was fifty up, then walk away so I could make this payment to Marlowe. Or maybe two hundred up to make the full month's interest. Definitely no more than the twenty-two hundred that would get me completely out from under. The backroom at the Slave Girl Market was smoky and dark like before. At first I got some snotty looks because of going in over my head before. Once I pulled out the cash, though, they couldn't find me a chair fast enough. I didn't even get a chance to put my butt on it before I felt this heavy hand land on my shoulder. Quickest night I've ever spent there, but I knew right away I wouldn't be staying. “I worry about you. You're not the type can make it, living on the bottom. You're almost gone now, owing money to Marlowe, and you'll be somebody's lunch if you make one more mistake. Believe me, you don't want to have Marlowe swallow you, and some of the competition would be worse.” Same Mohawk hair, same face without the eyebrows, same way of looking right through me even when she was talking to me, like I was another cloud of smoke in a smoke filled room. She had on the training jacket and it made her look even solider than when she'd pull it off to hammer on me. A lot more solid than I was. Whenever I saw her it seemed like she was real and I was just a dream I dreamed up myself. “Let's get you out of here before you do something dumber than usual, Frankie.” She knows Frankie is just the name of my dump, not my name, but she didn't care. She gave me a shove toward the door as I was jamming the money back into my pocket. One of the players made some comment to her about messing up their action. “This fish is mine,” she told him. “If you think otherwise you can follow us out to the alley and we'll negotiate.” She put her hands in her pockets and gave him a steady look that made him wilt back down into his chair and go back to his business. She had the jacket on so the player must have already known about her and what she could do without her having to give a demonstration or even show the arms. She pointed me to a car parked in the alley. “Try not to touch anything but the door handle. It has to be wiped for prints when I return it,” she told me and pulled on a pair of gloves before opening her door. It seemed odd that her seat was inches ahead of mine because that reminded me I was almost a head taller than her, even in her boots with the inch thick soles and two-inch heels. It always seemed she was about eight feet tall when she slapped me around or used those hands to grind some part of me to hamburger. “I need a backup on a job. Someone I can trust, and not because they're afraid of me. I can trust you, can't I?” As she drove off she talked to the windshield, not glancing my way as she asked her question. Not because I'm afraid of her? I'm scared shitless of her. She's given me plenty of reason to be scared and made it look as natural and easy as breathing. “Sure, you can trust me. I hired Glenda like you asked, didn't I?” She hadn't asked, she told me to do it. A runaway truck wouldn't ask you to get out of its way, and the result of not doing what she wanted would be about the same as getting hit by the truck. “I'm giving you a start to get off the bottom. You might get free and maybe you can pick up a couple bucks to invest back in your place, make it a little more decent.” She drove more cautiously than I expected anyone to drive that late at night. There was hardly any traffic, but she stopped at the orange lights and signaled every turn and never went faster than the speed limit. We parked down by the river in a pretty rundown area. She led me around the block and told me to wait there out of sight behind some trucks. “I'm meeting a guy in this building, going in the front door by where we parked. I got a funny feeling so I want somebody watching the backdoor. If you see anybody go in here, get back to the car and honk the horn. That's all. Just honk if anybody goes in. It could be worth some cash that'll help clear you with Marlowe, and there might be a little extra sugar besides.” Then she turned and walked back the way we had come. When she was gone I tried the backdoor she had pointed to and it was unlocked. I slipped inside, hoping I could get a look at her without her seeing me for a change. Maybe I'd get to see her work over somebody besides me. It seemed like I'd taken enough beatings to earn the right. The door led down a dark hallway to the back of a garage bay filled with stacks of boxes and barrels. There was one light by the opposite doorway so most of the place was invisible in shadows. I stepped behind one stack of boxes where I could see the room without showing myself. The front door opened and she just walked in, hands in her pockets and not taking any special precautions as she stepped in. The door closed behind her and she stood waiting for a few moments, not looking around, not showing impatience, just waiting. “You want us to pat you down or will you take off the coat so we can see if you're packing?” “When I got my invitation it wasn't ‘us'. I was told come alone and the client would come alone. You don't really want me to take off the jacket. That has consequences. Maybe the party's off.” She stood still, not looking for whoever had spoken from some corner of the room. A big guy came out from behind a stack of barrels by the far wall. “Okay, we'll talk. If you're alone, I'm alone.” He was a big guy, like I said. Probably six-four and two hundred pounds, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. In his left hand he carried a crowbar down by his leg like he thought he could hide it in plain sight. “You know what I want from Marlowe? Is he going to make good or do I start singing?” “I don't know a thing, except I'm to meet someone and tell him my boss isn't interested in renegotiating. Apparently you had a deal, it went bad on your end, and he isn't in the mood to change the terms. He did his part and wants to be sure you follow through on yours.” “That bastard ruined my life. I go away for attempted murder and for being an accessory to his arson if the cops get hold of me. I had a good job and now I got squat and I'm on the run. I passed the word I needed just three grand to get out of town and get a fresh start. You tell Marlowe I won't go down alone. I can guess who he was fronting for on that fire and I can show the cops and the feds where to find the proof.” The big guy was working himself up and edging toward her. He poked her in the chest with his finger a couple times for emphasis. “You tell him.” I pretty much wrote him off at that point. Whatever beef he had with Marlowe, he should have kept as business. Instead he was all pissed off and it seemed like he was deliberately trying to piss her off, not knowing who or what she was. I braced myself waiting to see her take the guy apart, wondering how many times she'd hit him and where she'd start. “There isn't any need for this. Other parties have an interest in you, Mr. Mathews.” Jeez, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hadn't heard the other two guys come in behind me, hadn't seen them slip into the shadows in front of where I was hiding behind the boxes. They were just there all of a sudden. “Three thousand isn't an unreasonable request, but we'd need certain guarantees.” They were big guys, too. Not tall but thick and square like weight lifters or something. Well dressed, but shoulders like football player pads under their suits. They walked forward by the other two. The one doing the talking fished out an envelope and tossed it at the big guy's feet. “We'll drive you where we can work out a deal. To show our intentions are honorable, here's the money up front. Count it if you like.” The muscle bitch was looking at the guy called Mathews and wasn't showing anything, not that she was surprised by the other two or mad that I hadn't done my job as lookout and let her know they were coming. “Think about this before you make your next mistake, Mathews. Walk out the door behind me empty handed and start running. Or get to the cops where you'll be a little safer and start singing. But you aren't going to get any dough from my boss or from theirs for doing what they already paid you for. And now that they know you can get greedy one or the other is going to be sure you can't ask again or offer anything to the cops.” Still looking right up into his face she shrugged off the training jacket and I knew she was ready for action. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I guess I'm that beholder because I never saw anything so beautiful as what she looked like when I knew she was going to clobber someone other than me. She had on one of her stretchy sleeveless tops that showed off how big and muscular her arms were, and how there were the same sort of muscles waiting under the shirt if she needed more. “You think I'm afraid of a woman just because she has muscles? You think I'll hold back like I did the other time one of you freaks went for me?” Mathews looked like he was scared now, and trying to bluff his way past it. “Run. Right now. They'll take you somewhere and peel you down like an onion, layer by layer until they know everything you know and how you connected dots to lead past Marlowe. Then they'll just throw away the leftovers.” I thought she got tough with me. I thought I'd had a real beating every time she got done working on me. I didn't know anything. The big guy swung his crowbar at her head and that was the only hope he had of hurting her. She ducked underneath to where she could work his gut. Three hard shots faster than I could follow her arms swinging, then she stepped aside and he folded up into a ball. “Get up and start running,” she told him again. “You gotta know if they have you, you got nothing to bargain with and you can't get out of this deal alive.” I figured he'd had enough, but suddenly he came up swinging the crowbar again. She was waiting and caught his left arm in her right and stopped it cold. Then she pounded her hard left fist into the middle of his face a couple times with a wet crunching sound. He dropped the bar and tried wrestling with her. That made all those muscles that were crawling under her little shirt go crazy, standing out bigger than any time I went up against her. It was all I could do to keep myself from running forward and jumping on her back to feel all the muscles moving around like that. With her arms exploding from the effort she shoved him off her and smacked him on the jaw. That spun him around and sat him down again, his face a bloody mess from where she'd hit him. “That's enough. We'll take care of him from here. We want to have a discussion, as you suggested.” The big guys started forward. She looked up at them, looked at what was left of the guy called Mathews, and stepped around behind him. She wrapped one of those beautiful big arms around his neck and gave a sudden twist. His neck broke with a loud snap and she pushed him forward onto his face. “Sorry, I got carried away.” She picked up the envelope the two guys had tossed to the one called Mathews. I could see she was breathing hard and her hands maybe shook a little bit but she kept her voice steady and calm. “My usual take is a thousand for a fatal, and this one is on you boys. I'll take the three grand you were using as bait to get him where you wanted to knock him off yourselves. I'm guessing you work for Honeycutt and my contribution made life easier for you and him. I'll keep the dough, you keep your hands clean, and you can haul him off to wherever you planned to dispose of the remains anyway. Everybody wins.” The two men looked at each other. “Honeycutt? Never heard of him. What if we decide to leave and you can explain this bit of business to the cops? Or what if we don't want to leave anybody here to explain anything?” They stepped a foot farther apart and each one reached under his coat, like they had guns they were about to pull. I stepped out from behind my box. My voice broke a little when I spoke. “That wouldn't be such a good idea, even apart from what she might do to you. You didn't think she'd bring back-up? And then there's the video of the whole thing showing you guys here when it all happened and talking like you're in on it with her. Especially on the edited version the boys back at headquarters will send out if we aren't home on time.” I didn't know I was such a bullshitter, but the words were coming out of my mouth. The guys looked at each other again, then one who tossed the envelope onto the floor said, “The boys back at headquarters, huh? Is that what Marlowe's calling his dump nowdays? Our boss might think somebody is getting a little big for his britches.” “Just business,” she told them. “Same price he put up anyway, and all the dirty work except the disposal is farther from his door than he planned. He ought to think it's worth the price.” As they dragged the body out the back door I pressed flat against the wall and put my hand in my coat pocket, like I had my own gun, but they didn't even bother looking at me. Like in a trance I walked over to where she was standing, opening up the envelope. Her arms and the rest of her skin glowed a hot pink from the blood churning under the surface. The muscles in her arms were even bigger than usual from giving the dead guy his working over. I wanted to put a hand on her arm and feel it. I wanted to beg her to flex it so I could see just how big it could really get, but I didn't have the guts right then, or a death wish. “Here we are. Three thousand bucks. I figured there could be some extra cash laying around after this little meeting, just not this much. I'll take half my usual because I'm not very proud of tonight's job, so you may as well pick up the rest. Minus the twenty-two hundred that gets Marlowe and me out of your life. At least I fixed it so that poor slob wouldn't suffer as much as if they got him alone, and their boss will be in the clear where that fire is concerned. Until I need to use the proof I have tucked away.” She put her coat on again and stuffed bills in two of her pockets, then handed some to me. Hundred dollar bills. I hadn't seen one of those in years, but it felt like real money. I put the three bills in my own pocket along with my gambling stake. “We're done here,” she told me as she led the way back to the car. “You should of stayed in the alley like I told you and just let me know when company came, but you did a good job, and you know enough to keep your mouth shut about the whole thing, don't you Greg?” she asked me when we were back in the car, driving toward Frankie's. Greg. Not Frankie, Greg. She knew my name and she said it out loud. I blinked at her in surprise. I blinked again and we were going in the back door to my bar where I could lock up the day's take and the extra cash I was carrying. I led the way out of the storeroom, and she touched my arm. I turned and blinked into the darkness, barely able to make her out beyond the outlines of her crest of hair and broad shoulders. I heard the jacket slide off more than I actually saw it, the same sound as when she was about to put the pain on me. But not this time. “You aren't going to see me again, Greg. After this I'm out of your life. I'll miss you.” She put her heavy, rough hand on my face and I ran both hands up her thick, bulging arm. She flexed it for me, looking into my eyes as I tried to get my hands around the muscle, tried to squeeze it to see if I could even make a dent. “You like it, don't you? It's always turned you on, the way I built myself up, instead of scaring you like the others, hasn't it? I'm glad. It gets lonely having to scare all the men I meet. You're lonely too, aren't you, Greg?” She started undoing the buttons of my shirt as I just stood there staring at her in the dark. “Show me you aren't like other men.” She undid my shirt and I slipped it off. Then she started in on her belt so I did the same. She stepped out of the boots at the same time she peeled down her snug black pants. I was shaking like a leaf in front of a tornado, standing there in just my drawers as she straightened up. “Here it comes,” she said in barely more than a whisper. “Like you wanted all along.” She pulled her little shirt up over her head and just let it drop beside her. In the dark her pure white skin seemed to be glowing, dim but distinct from all the shadows around us. The arms fit in with the rest of her, thick and powerful but balanced by all the rest of the muscles in her body. Her legs were the same, bulging with strength but not more than anywhere else. She let me stare for a minute, then jerked my shorts down and my dick sprang up like a flagpole. “I knew you wouldn't be like other men, Greg. I knew you'd be more -- maybe more than I can handle.” She ran her fingers down my shaft and I nearly exploded from desire. My hands told me more about her than my eyes could have in the dark, and I wouldn't have believed my eyes. I ran my hands over her shoulders and arms, then felt her thick chest and smooth small breasts. She sighed and lifted me right off the floor, like I didn't weigh anything, and gently laid me flat on my bar. Then she crawled up too, and said we should turn over, with me on top so she didn't hurt me. “God, Greg, you're such a man,” she moaned to me as I slowly entered her. I blinked again as she braked the car and she said, “Here's your place. Lock up that cash, then get some sleep. You got a new day coming. You and I can forget we ever met, Greg.” She slammed the car door behind me and drove off, leaving me standing alone in the alley.