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“You really think the cops needed Blimpie’s story? You really think that? ’Cuz I think Loren, with a broken nose, fractured arm and contusion—I think that little tune-up spelled it out for you! So stop calling my brother a fat retard! I ain’t going down with you on this dope shit!”
“You think you got troubles with this, Danny? Do ya? If we get convicted on distribution that’ll be my third strike! Get me? I ain’t talkin’ about no baseball! Third strike! You’re out! Gone for life!”
Danny mumbles. I’m sure he’s quite tired of being lectured and yelled at. Cherry takes some deep breaths. Rolls down a window. I hear the spark of flint, smell tobacco.
Cherry: “Fuck that. I’ll do whatever it takes. I ain’t goin’ back. No way. This is my time, Danny. Our time. We’ve got a plan and we’ve stuck to it. This shit ain’t more than a hiccup.”
Danny: “Are you saying Blimpie and Dobbins are only ‘hiccups’? What’re you gonna do, Cherry? What are you gonna do?”
“I said I’ll do whatever it takes.” Cherry goes cold. I’ve heard that tone from an interview room a few times. When an animal masquerading as a man finds itself cornered and at the end of the line, sometimes they’ll turn like this. This situation just grew thorns. “Keep that in mind, Danny.”
“You’re talking about murder and that ain’t no hiccups—”
The scenery changes. The ride becomes rough. Sliding. Off road.
Danny: “What the fu—Where are you goin’?”
Cherry: “Short cut. Trust me.”
Danny: “Jesus, Cherry. I can’t believe Blimpie is following us. You are out of—”
Cherry: “Don’t forget that your half-brother knows about the ATMs. And the drugs. And everything.”
No response from Danny.
“What if that bull shows back up at Dobbins’ place and offers him immunity to testify that he set up the deal between us and the bitch?”
Danny: “No one said for sure the bull was a cop. He might just be muscle—”
“Pig or muscle; who cares? Either way, Dobbins and Blimpie will squeal. Both those lousy fucks. If the bull is a Three Mile High cop he’s going to be squeezing Blimpie. He probably already did. Put the fear of God in him about going to prison over this horseshit. Retards don’t last in the pen. Trust me.”
“For the last time, he ain’t retarded! He’s just stupid. Besides, I thought you were looking for the girl.”
Cherry: “Yeah, I was. And that piece of shit Dobbins told me she was shackin’ up wit
h her daddy.”
Well, Mr. Dobbins. Funny that didn’t come up earlier.
Cherry some more: “But it don’t matter now ’cuz that muscle found us!”
Danny: “He said he represented who—”
Cherry: “And it’s bullshit, Danny! He’s a cop and he’s wired, tryin’ to get us to admit sellin’ dope! Somebody squealed!”
“I cannot believe you want me to consider...Blimpie. Blimpie, man. Fuck you.”
“Then you’re a bigger retard than that lardass brother of yours. I’m telling you.”
“I swear, Cherry, you listen to me. Now. You try and hurt Blimpie and I will take the whole thing to the cops myself! Got me? I’ll squeal and then you won’t have to blame my little brother—”
Cherry: “Fuck you then!”
“Fuck me? No, fuck you! I’m out!”
“You’re damn right you’re out, Danny. You and your fat retard brother both.” Cold.
Go time.
