Chaoter 4 - A fresh Start

I exit her apartment and lock the door behind her as asked. I don’t know if it was my newfound purpose of the vase of lilacs in a vase on a table at the end of the hall, but I suddenly get a breath of fresh air. It certainly wasn’t me that was smelling good, wearing the polo and khaki’s for two days now, probably smelling like an old boot, but I didn’t care. I had the confidence that I could infiltrate Shifty’s underground world, or at least find out if it was real, then when my story hit the world, I’d be famous. It was like this wave of exhilaration was just flowing around me as I made my way down the brightly lit stairwell to the street below. I get to the lobby and walk across the carpeted floor to the exit where the doorman opened the door, he smiled as I leave and puts his hand up to his cap as if he was saluting me. I find it fitting because I know in a few short months he’ll remember me as the hero that saved the crime wave plaguing central city. I get my bearings as I hit the busy street, noticing the hustle and bustle of the people on the street all heading off to work. I think that in a certain way, I myself am going to work, just in a different way. “I need money,” I whisper to myself, then I realize that if I can actually land work for Shifty, he might pay me, then I’d be able to survive. Then for a second I worry that when my story does go public what he will do to me, but it quickly passes when I think about indictments and the money I’ll get to pay for body guards and police protection and I know then that I’ll be protected for life. I make my way west, walking down 1st street the opposite way of all the people headed uptown in cars, taxis and on foot. I see people in expensive suits, trenchcoats, dresses and hats, and they are all beautiful, only beautiful people in Central City get jobs, or maybe they’re beautiful because they have jobs and can afford expensive clothes, plastic surgery, and hair plugs. I wonder how beautiful I will be when I get rich. As I continue westward down 1st street then cross over G street the people and cars become less and less, but I start to notice more and more homeless people and dejected human beings in sweatpants and frowns on their faces, and I know I am getting closer to Lucky’s. I start to get nervous, like what if I try to pull something on Shifty and he shoots me, or calls the cops, or even worse, if he isn’t the big player that Mark told me about. Just as I reach the door to the bar, in the dusty window the OPEN sign flickers, then stays lit. I open the door an go inside.

I enter the bar and walk inside. It’s no different than all the times before, except this time I am scared I nearly piss myself. The pool tables to the left are empty, as expected since the place just opened, and the booth where I normally sit to the right looks enticing, but I know I have a different agenda than getting wasted before work. I think to myself that this better work, if not for the story, then at least so I can have a little bit of money to go look for the next big thing. Shifty is sitting at his stool watching tv as usual, which I find odd because there is no way he could have switched on the OPEN signed and shuffled back to his stool before I got in, so I take a better look around, and that’s when I notice him. There’s a figure sitting in the far corner, in a chair in between the pinball machine that doesn’t work and the wall. He is sitting with his legs straight out, left ankle crossed over his right. I think he is black, but I can’t tell because he’s wearing sunglass, a black brimmed baseball cap, and Lucky’s is always so dark. I walk down the bar and sit about three stools away from being right across from Shifty.

At first Shifty didn’t even notice me, so I short of cleared my throat, then I see he eyes slowly roll over to where I am sitting. “Glass of whiskey please?” I ask hoping he can’t tell the nervousness in my voice. He grunts, comes to his feet slowly and pulls the bottle of whiskey from the well and pours a double, at least he remembers my drink. I laugh and say “you know this is my last 5 bucks, I probably should use it for cab fare to the unemployment office”, then I throw my hands up and look around “but you know, I just like this place so damn much!” And I laugh again. Shifty sort of exhales quickly through his nose after he sits on his stool and I can’t tell if I made him laugh or if it really took all the energy he had to sit back down. “You know, I really ain’t sure what I’m supposed to do,” I shrug, “hey, you see a lot of people come in here, construction workers and whatnot, you ever hear of anyone saying that they need people for work?” I can’t believe I am doing this and can’t tell if I am being smooth or a complete fucking idiot.

Shifty just sighs, “nope.” He’s voice sounded less gravely today and I assume it’s because he hasn’t smoked with 100th cigarette yet.

“Ah, well, it was worth a shot, I’ve kind of been asking everybody”, I chuckle again, “I’ve come to the conclusion that only beautiful people get work in this city.”

Then Shifty cackles, and I don’t know if it’s the TV or what I said, until he mutters, “people are only beautiful cuz they got jobs kid.” He smiles, but not at me, he’s just staring at the TV. His smile is wide enough that I can see a little bit of his teeth, one of his bottom fronts is missing and they are all this grey color, like dried cement. I start to think that Shifty isn’t so different from me. Then we say nothing. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass and I finish my drink. I don’t have any money to pay for another.

“Kind of out of money, whattya say you help me out? IOU? On the house?” I ask knowing the likely answer. Shifty doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, and doesn’t take his eyes off the TV screen. “Oh well,” I laugh, “that was worth a shot too.”

Here’s where I realize I am truly fucked. Shifty is just a degenerate bartender, probably not even the owner, of a bar located on the fringe of the nice part of town. He is no mover, no shaker, and he certainly can’t help me out. I stand up, pick up my black wool coat from the stool next to me and put it on, “well maybe I’ll see ya round man,” I say as a leave. I turn 90 degrees and just as I take my first step I see Shifty out my peripherals run his left hand through his white dirty hair then swing it forward like he is swatting at a fly. Just as a I reach the door I hear a voice.

“Hey kid.” I turn around and it is the figure that was once sitting in the corner. He is in fact a black guy, medium build, black leather jacket, black jeans and snake or alligator boots. With his cap still on, he tilts it slightly upward so I can see his shiny face, “wanna make 500 bucks.”

At this I perk up and look spirited, and I don’t know why, if I now think that Shifty could be who Mark said, or just the thought at what 500 dollars could get me. He can noticeably tell that I perked up when he said 500 bucks and that it was an inevitable “yes” from my body language.

“Exit the front door, and meet me around back, we got a job for you.”