The Little Black Book

It was a hot and sultry July afternoon in 1985. I had been walking in the heat in and out of thrift stores in search of something different to add to my antique collection. As I walked through the door, I could feel the stores stale AC hit my sweat dripping face when I man in worn clothing came running towards me to the door, bumping me and pushing me aside into the box of umbrellas. As I began to get my balance, two other men in Dormeuil Vanquish Suits stormed past me pushing back into the same box of umbrellas. I could not help but notice the flash of their Rolex watches and alligator shoes. They certainly did not fit the usual thrifters. As I stood up and watched them leave, I could not help but noticed not only were they wearing identical suits, but they also appeared to be twins. At that moment both turned and made eye contact with me. I must admit I felt a bit apprehensive when they pressured themselves into my space asking if I saw where the man went. The sweat that had begun to dry from the AC began to bead again on my forehead and it was not from the July heat. I swallowed what little spit I had in my dry mouth as I pointed in the direction, I saw the man run and they left my side.

I began to breathe and decided that I just needed to go home. I walked with a rapid pace back to my car and as I opened the door I could feel the intense heat fall out of the car as I had been thrifting for several hours. As I sat down and turned on the AC I decided to idle while I looked through my bag of treasures I had accumulated from my search. As I peered into my bag, I saw something that I did not recall purchasing. Amongst the trinkets I had bartered for laid a small black book. I reached down and picked up the small book that was the size of my palm. I opened the leather cover and began flipping through the pages to see what appeared to be account codes, Shell company bank accounts, coordinates of funds where they had gold, diamonds. My car had finally cooled; however, I felt my heart beating in my ears and my hands shaking. It was as if I found a treasure and then it made sense being bumped by the man in worn clothes. He had been running from what could only be something linked with possible mob or mafia. Had he placed this little black book so it could not be found on him? Where is he? I began to dart my eyes around to see if I could see him hiding, waiting to approach me. Unfortunately, it was not the man with worn clothes that caught my eye, but the twins in fine suits making their way quickly to my car.

I remember my breathing getting heavier. I was having trouble putting my car into gear. As they got closer, I locked my door and without hesitation it was as if my brain took over and my foot hit the pedal leaving dust in their faces. I did not want to look in the mirror, but I could not help it…. I did not see my eyes, or someone in the back seat. What I saw were two men in an expensive Porsche coming closer in the mirror. My car was no match for the engine under that hood. My mind began to reel. “Think, think.” I kept telling myself. Before I could answer my own thoughts, I heard a shot and then felt a sting in my right upper arm. It did not take long to realize they had started shooting at me and a bullet came through my car and now my arm was gushing blood.

I knew then they had no need for the man with worn clothes. Heck, they probably shot him after realizing he no longer had this little black book. I knew now what would happen if I stopped and handed over this book. My arm was just a message. As I continued speeding for my life the car with the armed twins came up beside me. It was at that moment I decided that I found a treasure and my thrifting days were over and with that I swerved left and drove their car across the median and into the Live Oak on the corner of Legend and Maple. The only thing I remember is making it home and now I’m sitting on the toilet in my one-bedroom apartment. Blood on the floor and a little black book clutched in my hand with a small smile. My thrifting days are over.