The Shoe Shiner

1 –An Introduction to Shining Shoes

Frank started out on the busiest corner he could think find. It was downtown of course. It was less about the cars going by and more about the foot traffic. The shopping district was of course the most logical choice. Halloween was approaching and then the holiday season would be in full swing. More shoppers, more good cheers, more giving. And for Frank, that meant more money. It therefore behooved the young man of thirteen years old to set his plan in motion as soon as he could. It seemed like a good opportunity and a young man always needed more money. He would soon find something much more valuable, however. But that comes later.

Frank spent hours watching videos, reading books, and generally researching the art of shining shoes. Before he started, he thought that it was simple enough. But when he started, he soon learned that it was indeed an art form. To be good at shining shoes required patience practice, and perseverance. And it was not just about the shining of the shoes either. No, it was about conversation and understanding. Frank understood that he was not just providing one service, but many services under one name, a shoe shine. He certainly shined shoes, but he listened to people’s problems. He offered advice, or at least what wisdom a thirteen-year-old could provide. He helped people relax for a short time, to forget about their crazy day at work or the fight they had with their wife the night before. He would become a great shoe shine, a great giver of advice, and the man people always looked forward to seeing. However, unbeknownst to Frank, he would be best known as the giver and receiver of secrets and favors. Ones people did not want known, ones the people sought with the fever of madness. For now, he was planning his first little booth on a busy corner in downtown. Soon, he would acquire knowledge that could topple countries, ruin countless lives, make people rich as kings, or unleash a fury of death and destruction.

While it is true that by the time Frank got into the shoe shine game, it was an industry that had grown out of its prime. Once, the country was lousy with shoe shine stands and anyone with two hands could pick up some polish and a cloth and make few dollars. Nowadays, most people do not even wear shoes that can be shined. That was a lesson that Frank learned early on while he was sitting at his bench freezing his butt off in late October. He was watching people’s feet as they walked by, what he saw was not promising. Mostly people wore tennis shoes. Or those weird toe shoes. By early November, Frank pivoted to cleaning shoes. This proved to be much more advantageous as the weather turned. Between the snow, salt, and mud, Frank had plenty of customers who sought a brief respite from shopping or the cold and were more than happy to get a pair of clean shoes out of the deal. And all for an affordable price at that. Frank soon became a well-known figure on the corner. When Christmas came around, he received a generous round of tips from most of his regulars and more besides. Once the holidays were over, business was down slightly but the weather was still as frightful as ever and Frank still had a healthy clientele throughout the various areas he set up in during the week. When Frank was not in school, he was working at his stand. This is how things went on, for a while at least.

2 – The Unexpected benefits of Shining Shoes

Frank moved his shoe shine stand around for a while before he finally settled at a unexpectedly fertile shoe shining location. Of course, when Frank thought about it more, it made perfect sense. The courthouse was filled to the brim with people who exclusively wore shine-able shoes every single day. Not to mention that the halls were always full of people coming and going, always busy. Except when they were not busy, sometimes it was five minutes, sometimes forty-five. Inevitably, they would end up at Frank’s stand. One added benefit to working in a place where people were always on their feet is that they will accept any excuse to sit for a few minutes and have a good foot rub. Frank did not actually rub their feet, but to someone weary of standing and walking all day, a shoe shine can feel as good as a foot massage. Five minutes work and the man or woman would be off to their next adventure, or disaster. Most of the time they would pay Frank without even looking at what they were giving him. Frank received a lot of twenties when in reality, he had earned no more than five or ten dollars at most. But he never complained, why would he?

At first, all the senseless talking seemed a small price to pay, especially when he just tuned most people out. He would smile and nod politely, and that would usually be sufficient to appease what they perceived as a conversation. Frank could not remember exactly, but at some point, he started listening more closely. He was surprised at how carefree and loose-tongued most people were with their words. Even when they really had no right to be revealing such information. Sometimes it was about a loved one or close friend. Other times it was insider information about a company or a boss. Lots of opportunity abound in this crazy world; Frank thought about it often. Frank began keeping all the information he could obtain in notebooks, which he then kept in a safe. The most important information was entered into his laptop for later use. His laptop was also kept in his safe. Even more surprising to Frank was the fact that people seemed to talk even more about things they should not be talking about when they have a friend with them. It was late in the summer when Frank was sixteen that it happened. A pair of lawyers stopped by his stand; both wanted a shine on account of having just won a big case. They had celebrated with a couple of impromptu whiskies before they stopped at Frank’s shoe shine stand, and so both had properly lubricated tongues. Over the next half an hour, Frank listened to a conversation that would change his life forever.

Most of the conversation Frank kept in his mind to review later when he entered the information into his files, he had a terrific memory. There was an interesting story about the District Attorney and the Mayor that he definitely wanted to look into a bit more. The most interesting part of their conversation was, at least according to Frank, was the part about the fortune teller.

“I told you that fortune teller was the real deal,” said the first man.

“And where the hell did you say this was? I thought the county fair wasn’t for another month,” said the second man.

“No, no. This was the side show, the traveling fair up in Shady Acres. They have been up there the whole summer. Guess they are heading south here in a few weeks.”

“Wait, she told you that we would win the case and how?”

“Have you been listening? She said I had an important situation at hand and that I am on the right track. She told me to keep following the yellow brick road. I thought she was fucking crazy at first, you know? Some gypsy rip-off fortune teller bullshit. But then I went back through the case files. I had hit a dead end and decided I needed to start from the beginning to see if I missed something. Turns out, I did. Yellow bricks! Right there in the crime scene photos. I had to look up where in the hell one would find yellow bricks, turns out they are very rare.”

“Follow the yellow brick road....”

“Fuckin’ A. Sounds like I should go see her.”

“I highly recommend it my friend. As long as you can afford it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Nothing, nothing. You’ll see when you go. Anyway, you hear about the DA? Apparently, his wife just filed for divorce.”

Frank listened to the rest of the conversation for the sake of the information, but he could not keep his mind off this fortune teller. He had not heard about this traveling fair, but decided it was worth the time to go check it out.

3 – The Fortune Teller and The Shoe Shiner

The following Friday, Frank went to the traveling fair up in Shady Acres. He was not sure what he expected but what he discovered was much more than he anticipated. While it was not as expansive as the county fair, it was still, quite the spectacle. If Frank had to guess, he would say that this fair does not abide by the same rules and regulations as normal fairs. And the more that Frank saw, the more he was sure that this fair was not normal. There were fire breathers, a freak and oddities show, a live animal exhibit, a devious looking haunted house, and dangerous acrobatics. All this alongside the more traditional fair attractions. Even some of the food stalls were otherworldly or downright disturbing. But most people seemed to go along with it all as part of the shtick of the place. Frank on the other hand, did not trust the dessert stand that seemed to be selling lady fingers and bear claws. Normally, he would love either of those things and would enthusiastically try them. But the fact that the lady fingers looked like they really came from a lady’s hand turned him off.

When Frank finally found the fortune teller’s tent, he let a long breath of relief. This was a much more harrowing experience than he had bargained for. He was starting to think that perhaps he had been single sighted in his current quest for knowledge. It was getting late and as Frank saw more of this vile place, the more he wished to turn around and run away. Would he even make it out alive? He was about to say the hell with it and turn tail after he saw a blood red tent with a sign outside that read,

‘Live Murders at 11 and 1.’

Frank’s blood ran cold, it was almost eleven now, the urge to bolt was growing but then he heard a voice from a short distance away.

“My dear boy, you do not belong here. Come with me to my tent, I believe you have been looking for me.”

Relief flooded into him. He hurried along behind the woman as she walked briskly to her own tent. The woman sat down on a large pillow on the ground and gestured for Frank to do the same across from her. Between them was a small table made of wood, it was dark and beautiful but Frank could not tell what species it was. The fortune teller sat quietly; she did not speak but only stared at Frank. It felt as though she was dissecting him with her eyes and judging what she found. She was determining who he was, she was discovering his dreams, she was deciding whether or not he was worthy of her time. He did not know how but he know it was true. After a few minutes of silence, she finally spoke.

“I have seen your future, at least in part. I have also seen your past, and more than just a part. You are ambitious, resourceful, and clever,” she let the words sink before continuing. “I need a partner, someone who can get information... and other things, that I simply cannot obtain.”

“You are a fortunate teller, why do you need me?’ Frank asked, honestly confused.

“Clever, but you do not listen dear boy. I am not omnipotent. Sometimes I need more information to better understand. More information leads to better results, as with all things. Sometimes there are things, items and the like, that I am in no position to acquire.”

“So, what? You need a thief? Because I’m no thief, lady.”

“I think you could be a great many things, thief included. Whether it be a question of money, willingness, and opportunity, all things can be obtained. And I need someone with talent, which you have. You could use a bit of aging up; a pinch of wisdom never hurt. Otherwise, you are perfect. But forgive me, my tarot cards reveal two paths for you. You can leave here now and live off your small-time information and eventually...”

The fortune teller trailed off and shrugged her shoulders in a gesture that plainly said it did not end well for Frank down the first path. Frank was not sure how far he believed this but he did not intend to leave just yet.

“What awaits me down path number two?”

The woman pulled out a small vial, it glowed light blue and Frank could swear he heard a faint music as the fortune tell set the bottle on the table.

“What is that?” Frank asked as he leaned closer to inspect the glass vial. He tilted his head so his ear was closer and indeed he could hear a beautiful song coming from within.

“That is your future if you decide to become my partner. If you really want to know what it is, I will tell you. But I have found that people enjoy the rewards more if they are ignorant of the source. Look at the fast-food industry, everybody wants a cheese burger but no one wants to see how it is made.”

Frank sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again. “What will it do?”

“Make you more than you are now. More than any mortal you will meet from this day forth. It will give you power and understanding.”

“Sounds like it will make me a god,” said Frank.

“As close as anyone can become,” said the fortune teller.

“Where did this come from?” Frank picked up the vial and held it up to the light.

“A Jinn.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. This came from a Jinn. It is a Jinn. Its life force, its soul, its being, its power all reside in that little bottle with nothing but a cork to keep it contained.”

“Is the Jinn dead?” Frank was feeling sleepy. He felt good, but also, he felt like his eyes could close any second and that would be it. The blue substance in the vial was calling to him, it wanted him, and the more he looked at it, the more he wanted to drink it.

“In a sense, yes. But also, no.”

“Fuck it.”

Frank could not resist anymore and he blissfully gave in to the urge that had been slowly building since the fortune teller revealed the vial. He uncorked the bottle, lifted it to his mouth, and consumed the entire contents in a single gulp. He remembered warmth spreading through his entire body, he felt energy like never before surging through him. What happened after that, Frank could not remember. He woke up in his own bed, he felt groggy. When he checked his phone, he thought he must be dreaming. According to every calendar he checked, it had been almost a month since he had gone to the traveling fair. The only clue Frank had was a card in his front pants pocket. The card was black with a gold cat stretching out embossed on the front. Under the cat was a name and a phone number.

Madam Heck ~ 555-1919

4 - Secrets, Seances, and Shoe Shines

Six years later

Frank did not like the man sitting across from him. It was mid-January and it was bitterly cold outside. Frank and the man, this loathsome man, sat in front of a crackling fire with a small table between them. It was the table he had first seen in the tent of Madam Heck; she had given it to him as a gift when their partnership was first formed. The man sitting across from Frank was too small and his belly too big. He was balding and had a fairy ring of hair running around his head. Frank decided that the man reminded him of a rat, both in look and smell. His attitude towards Frank’s business was skeptical, if Frank was being nice. If Frank was being honest, the man’s attitude would better be described as derisive. The small, loathsome man took a sip of his drink before clearing his throat and speaking.

“So, what is it you do here?”

Frank thought it was quite clear what services he provides. As it were, clients did not just come off the street after seeing his sign or look him up through the business listings. No, people came to Heck & Moore because they were referred. There were only two ways one could get a referral. The first being from a former client and the second, from trusted sources that were tasked with finding prospective clients. Frank did not know from which this man was sent, but this man most assuredly knew what they did here.

“Our services are dictated by the needs of our clients,” said Frank.

“In other words, anything?”

“Or everything.” Frank smiled. He was sure this man would engage his services and was sure he did not need the sales pitch. But he liked to sell it all the same. And despite his dislike for this dickhead, Frank wanted the opportunity to see what this was all about. More information was always useful. “Well, almost anything. If you need dirt on a political opponent, we can help. If you need to contact the dead, damned, or otherwise doomed, we can help. If you want to know your future, we can help. If you want your shoes shined, well, we can help with that too.”

“And what if I asked you to kill someone for me, would you do that? Does that fall under the category of almost anything?”

“No, it does not. But I would give you the relevant information... once a price was agreed upon.”

The loathsome man laughed and nodded his head. “Yes, you must always get your price. I am guessing you also get a piece of the assassins price, hmm?”

“A five percent finder's fee for all my references. Both given and received. Which reminds me, who was it who told you about me? For the five percent I will owe them upon the completion of our business. Who shall I pay?”

“I would rather not say, they seemed rather partial to remaining anonymous.”

Frank nodded in agreement. Yes, he did understand. “Do you know why our business is so successful? I mean, there are many reasons but there are three big ones. The three things that truly put us above all of the rest. Now, this goes both ways, see? The first is reliability. We are reliable, the job gets done on time, every time. In return, we expect our price to be paid when it is asked. Whether it be upon completion or a year later, the price will be paid. The second is trust. All parties involved trust that everyone else will be playing by the same rules. Trust that no secrets will be divulged, no backs stabbed, no looking behind you for the betrayal. The last is the most important. When something inevitably goes wrong, and something will always go wrong at some point and time, it will be dealt with. The life rafts will be ready, justice will be carried out, and no one need fear. Because it will be taken care of,” Frank sat silently for a few moments so his speech could settle in with the loathsome man. “So, when you say that whomever referred you would rather remain anonymous, I cannot help but feel that one way or another, trust has been broken.”

Frank had to give him credit, he did not give away his feelings easily. But Frank knew more than the loathsome man could have ever guessed. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, when it was clear that Frank would have to be the one to break the impasse, he did so.

“I suppose it does not really matter; I will take you on as a client. Now, tell me your problem and I will tell you my price.”

When the price was agreed upon the loathsome man got up to leave. He extended his arm to shake hands with Frank and when Frank reached out in response, the man grabbed his hand tightly. The loathsome man held Frank’s hand in both of his and brought it up to his face. He kissed Frank’s hand and took a deep breath; Frank did not know what was happening but quickly pulled his hand back from the loathsome man. He turned and walked quickly from the room without another word, leaving Frank standing there struck dumb with confusion.

5 – Where the heck is Madam Heck?

Frank had not seen the fortune teller since the day prior to the loathsome rat man coming to visit. He was hoping to see her before he left to see to the job he had just been hired to perform. It was simple enough, a missing woman who the loathsome man was certain stole a priceless item from him. A notebook to be precise. When Frank asked what made the notebook so priceless, the man answered quickly and without reserve.

“Information. Something you are familiar with, yes?”

Frank agreed but said nothing more. Information in a notebook. Now that was interesting. Frank would have done the job just to get a glimpse of what was inside of that notebook. He hoped the man would not put any restrictions on whether Frank could open the notebook to confirm the contents. His wish was granted when the man said he could peruse the notebook at his leisure once he had it safe. Frank was hoping to be able to consult Madam Heck about the man who hired him but alas, it appeared he would have to do the leg work himself. He left a note on the fortune teller’s door and left.

Two hours later he arrived in a small town and began his hunt for the missing woman. It was easier than he thought it would be. While he had no picture, he was armed with the name of the woman, Cera, and he quickly located her usual haunts. No one had seen her in days, apparently. The people all seemed slightly weary of Frank. They all seemed to be telling the truth, but nothing more or less. Frank had a suspicion that the whole town could be of more help but they had been instructed to simply answer Frank’s questions. It was starting to get dark, if the people were of no help, then Frank would talk to the other inhabitants of the town.

Frank had learned many things over the years, one thing he learned very early was that people were the most unreliable sources of information. While they were the most abundant and most often on hand, the best source of juicy information were beasts that roamed the streets. So, Frank learned to talk to them, all of them. Cats, dogs, birds, rats, it did not matter. Dogs were most keen on sharing while cats were often coy. The birds were the best source, easy to talk to and always saw the most. Rats were useful because they could often get into places the others cannot, but they were often unpleasant. Frank did not see any dogs nearby, of course people were much less tolerant of dogs running wild in the streets of these smaller towns, a common occurrence in bigger cities. Seeing as night was falling, the birds were not active either. Frank did not even look for a rat, the loathsome man sprang into his mind at the notion. That left a cat, which Frank could see there were a few. Guardians of the gardens mostly. Frank approached a dark gray male with a white chin and white ears as he walked along a stone fence separating two gardens. The cat looked over at Frank as he approached and Frank asked how he was. The cat replied that he was very well and then turned around and began to walk off. Coy as usual.

“Hey, wait! Do you like fish spice crickets?”

The cat stopped and turned around. Of course, he like fish spiced crickets, he was a cat after all. The cat accepted the crickets graciously and ate every single one Frank put down in front of him. This was not the first instance spiced crickets had come in handy for Frank. Coming in a variety of flavors, spiced crickets had become a full-blown sensation when meat consumption was cut. When the cat was done, Frank began.

“Tell me about the woman, Cera. Do you know her?” Frank asked that cat.

“Everyone knows her. But it is not Cera, it is Sera. Short for Serafina, Madam Serafina.”

Frank’s blood ran cold and there was a tinge of panic beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.

“A witch?”

“A witch, a fortune teller, and a deceiver,” purred the cat.

6 – Life is a Wheel

The cat followed Frank back home despite Frank’s many attempts to rid himself of the thing. The cat’s name was Tom, or at least that is what he wanted to be called. But by the time Frank arrived home, he had resigned himself to the fact that the cat would leave when it wanted to leave and not before. Frank knew what he would find before he even opened the door to his room. The cat hissed as the door creaked open, Frank could smell it too, it smelled like a rat. A certain loathsome rat. Everything was as he left it except for the missing floorboards at the foot of his bed. It should have been undetectable; he used every trick he knew to hide any trace of the hidey-hole. When he partnered up with Heck, he created this spot to put his most important and his most valuable information. When Frank looked inside, he saw that his laptop was still there. On top of the computer was a notebook with a sticky note attached. Frank pulled everything out of the hidey-hole and let out a long breath. The sticky note was from Madam Heck, or Serafina, or whatever she wanted to call herself.

Sorry my darling. But you will need to reset your password.

Love: Serafina Heck

The notebook was empty. It was her gift to him, for a new start. She had stolen everything else. Years of work gone. The budding fruit left to be picked by her. How many favors did he have in there? He had no choice but to start calling them in, or at least the ones he could remember, before Serafina did. Frank turned to the cat and scratched him under his chin.

“You coming?” Frank asked.

“As long as you pack more crickets,” replied Tom.

Frank filled a backpack with a variety of items, everything else was just decoration for his life and his life had changed. He took the notebook that Serafina had left for him and put the laptop back, it was useless now. Then he grabbed his shoe shining kit and walked out the door with Tom the cat following close behind.

The End