Blank Pages: Mission 00

Blank Pages: Mission 00

Let No Good Deed Go Undone...

I hate taking the subways. They smell. And there’s always some weirdo on board doing some random circus act. Ugh! I just want to get home and sit down. Boots off, whiskey in one hand and a smoke in the other. This entire city smells for that matter. Maybe I should move to the hills.

***Now Arriving at 82nd Avenue. Please ensure all belongings and personal effects are with you. Always wear your mask and remember to wash your hands. Thank you for traveling Star Lines***

I stood up, along with several other folks preparing for departure. My stop is next. I hung my head and closed my eyes just as the subway came to a stop. The chatter began.

***Bing-Bong-Doors Open***

I opened my eyes to scope the new passengers that were about to board and noticed one of the men getting off dropped his wallet. I moved around to grab it, but as I stood up the new passengers were already boarding, and I couldn't see the guy that dropped it.

***Bing-Bong-Doors Closing-Next stop...92nd Avenue***

“Damn!” I thought to myself. “He’s about to have a pretty crappy night.” I grabbed the handrail above as the subway cars began to move again. Looking down at the item in my hand, I realized it wasn’t the man’s wallet at all. It was actually a book of some kind, maybe a journal or phone book. It was kinda nice for someone riding the subway too, but at least it wasn’t his wallet. “Can’t be anything too important” I thought, but boy, how dead wrong I was about to find out I was.

As I stepped off the subway cars, it began to drizzle a little. It was cold enough, so I turned up the collar on my coat and set out for my apartment. Buzzing myself into the building, I could already hear the familiar sounds that I’ve grown accustomed too. I pushed past it all, hiking up 3 flights of stairs before finally reaching my pad. Digging in my coat pocket for my keys, I felt the book that the guy dropped on the subway. I pushed the initial thought aside of wanting to know what the book was about and pulled out my keys. Home at last.

I was already drenched from the drizzle so, I decided that sitting down would still have to wait a moment, but the whiskey and smokes were mandatory. Throwing off my coat, I grabbed a menthol from the pack in my back pocket and struck the lighter in front. The flame, so close to my face, a comfort that warmed my skin. I took a drag and tossed the lighter on the bed. Walking over to the icebox, I kicked my boots off mid stride. I grabbed the whiskey and a cold glass, poured my drink, and took a nice big gulp. “Now, that hit the spot.”

I fished out something dry from a pile of clothes in the corner. A simple sniff test was all I needed to know if they were clean or not. Once changed, I went over to my chair and took a seat. Flipping on the TV, I surfed the channels until I found something that looked remotely interesting. Taking another gulp from my glass, I sat it down on the table between my chair and the TV. “That book,” I remembered. I stood and walked over to my semi wet coat and grabbed the book from the pocket. “Yeah, this is nice.” I said to myself. It was black leather and had a band that held the pages closed. I flipped it over to see if it had a name or something engraved on it, but the entire outside was blank. Undoing the band, I quickly opened it up and saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. I flipped through the pages and there was more nothing. All of the damn pages were blank.

  I scratched my head. And here I was thinking, this guy was about to be bummed. I mean, it is nice and all, but what would I do with it now? It’s useless. I turned to the back page and saw there was something different about this book. It had a flap on the inside back cover, almost like a pocket. It was kinda odd looking because unless you actually knew it was there, you’d assume it was just another page. I opened it up and a little piece of yellow paper fell to the floor. I put the book on the table and picked up the yellow paper:

Bombay’s Cleaners 9 sharp – Ask for Cook

“Bombay’s huh?” I knew that joint. It’s the old cleaners spot down on 51st & Lewis, about 15 minutes from my place. Yeah, that’s a rough spot in the city but I figured, “What the hell.” I’ll serve my good deed for the day while there’s still time. Did I mention I hate subways?

Standing in front of Bombay’s, the rain started to come down a little bit harder. “Let’s get this over with.” I said aloud. Approaching the overhang of the store, I could see it was completely dark and empty looking. The store was attached to a chain of other stores and I figured maybe someone would be out back. I turned and headed down the alley, leading to the backside of the storefront. I had kept a count of how many doors I passed to know which door was mines. “4 down,” I thought. I banged on the solid metal door, figuring no one would answer anyway. Nothing. I started to head back towards the subway, good deed unfulfilled. I should’ve known this was a crock and complete waste of time.

“Hey, You!” I turned, startled, and almost ready for a fight. “Who you here for?” A big guy was poking his head halfway from the door I banged on, obviously not trying to get his bald head wet. “Cook!” I responded. “I need to see Cook!” The big fella waved me over. Stepping into the cleaners, I followed the big guy down a dark hallway and then some stairs. He led me to a door with a chair on the outside and told me to sit. “Hey my friend, I’m just here to see Cook. I have something I need to give him.” “I heard you the first time. Sit down and wait here!” he barked back. The big fella disappeared inside the door and left me there, nervous as a rat in a lion’s den.

“He’s ready for you. Follow me.” The big guy opened the door for me to pass in front of him. Once inside, he pulled the door shut and locked it. I’m not exactly sure what this guy on the subway was into, but I felt like my good deed was about to have a very bad ending.

I followed the big fella into a room that seemed to be, more or less, an underground casino. The big man pointed to a guy that was sitting at one of the tables. I walked over, taking in every detail that my tiny brain could register as the lump in my throat almost choked off my entire air supply. The room was well light and heavy with booze smells and cigar smoke. “A bunch ‘a’ mobsters if I’ve ever seen one.” I thought. “I just hope I ain’t dying here tonight...over a damn book with nothing in it!” Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead, and I felt a trickle of moisture roll from my underarm down my side.

The guy in the chair glanced up at me and motioned for me to pull up a chair. One of the other guys posting guard walked over a chair for me to sit in. “You remember the instructions?” He was the dealer. Cards in hand and a cigar, partially lit, dangling from his lips, I was speechless. His dress was neat. Too neat. He wore a clean white tux with black pinstripes, a rose bud tucked nicely in his breast pocket, and a pair of shoes so clean, I knew I’d be charged for looking. I took a breath and swallowed what little spit I could muster to wet my whistle. “Look, Mr. Cook, right?” I sound like a scared kid. “C’mon Greg! Get you act together.” I said to myself. The guy stopped dealing the cards and looked at me as if I had insulted him. He sat the cards on the table, took a pull from his cigar, and leaned in as he blew the smoke in my face. “I don’t like rookies. The only reason you’re here is cause of my brother, but let’s get one thing clear...I am not my brother! You only get half a chance with me if I know ya, and less than that if I don’t, and since I don’t, you got one shot to come up with what you promised or it’s night night Mr. Attorney! You copy?” I nodded. In my own right, I am somewhat of a tough guy. You know, bar brawls, save the damsel in distress type...but THIS! This was in a class of its own. Cook took another puff of the cigar and sat it down in an ashtray on the table, next picking up the cards and continuing the deal. “So, you remember the instructions?” he asked again. I nodded. With one hand over his shoulder, he signaled in the air and another one of the guards began to walk toward me. He was carrying a large duffle bag. The guard sat the bag on the floor beside Cook. Cook, putting the cards down again, leaned over, unzipped the bag, and pulled out a small brown folder before zipping the bag closed again. “Don’t make me regret trusting my brother!” he said before placing the folder on the table in front of me. “This is your fee, and I’m a man of my word. Now it’s up to you to deliver what I need, hmm?” “I won’t let you down Sir.” STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID!!!! Why on God’s green earth did I just say that? I don’t even know what I just agreed too!

The bald-headed big fella led me back to the metal door where we first met. It was still raining, but I was never more glad to feel rain on my skin. He pulled the door shut without saying a word and I turned, duffle bag in hand, almost running, happier than I had ever been to get on a subway.

Comfortably back at my place, I dropped the bag in front of the door and locked it, deadbolt, and all. I hurried across the room to where I had left the whiskey and opened the top. I turned the entire bottle up and let the liquid race down my throat. Sitting the bottle down, I lit up a smoke and sat down. Noticing the duffle bag was too far, I quickly got up and slid it closer to my chair. I was freaking shaking. “What in the hell did I just walk into too?” I opened the bag just enough to pull the little brown folder from inside. I opened the pins on the back and dumped the contents from the folder.

It was cash! Cold hard cash! I took another swig from the bottle and looked at the few stacks of money on the table. The money, crisp and clean, was bound in neat stacks, wrapped in labeling paper. Each stack was five large. With four bundles on the table, I quickly realized what the amount was. Twenty large! This Cook fella just gave me 20 grand as a fee to do Lord only knows, and now what? What in blue blazes was this guy from the subway really into?