The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Beer, Brawn, and Brains

I honestly don't know how the idea got fucking started, but right now, it's a damn good idea. Donnie and I are walking back to his place since it's near the bar we were kicked out of at two in the morning. As we manage to score a case of beer at the gas station, we see a perfectly good couch outside of an apartment complex about a block away from his house. So, here we are carrying a couch with a case of beer on top of it down the street at three in the morning drunk off our asses. I'm silently praying we make it to his yard before a cop rolls around. It wouldn't be my first trip to jail, but it would be the funniest reason why I end up behind bars.

We finally stumble onto his yard, and set the couch down right below his front windows. He stumbles inside, and brings out a coffee table. As he sets it down, he runs back in to bring out a set of coasters.

"The misses would fucking kill us if we got rings on her table, so you better use them," he orders before cracking open a beer.

"So, the fact it's outside won't upset her, but rings will?" I chuckle.

He looks at the table and sighs, "Fuck. Let me grab one of the patio tables."

As he disappears back into the house, I grab a beer and look up at the stars. It's strange that early tonight I took a man's life while I'm out here enjoying my own life. I begin to wonder when Karma is going to sneak up behind me to slap me upside my thick fucking skull with a baseball bat. Then again, life is a fucking cruel mistress. One day, you're the king of the world, and the next, you're left in a back alley bleeding to death because one word was said to the wrong person. I always thought life is nothing more than a shit cake covered in frosting made out of pure bullshit. It looks good in theory, but in the end, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth. However, tonight, I'm appreciating the sweet taste of surviving another day on this fucked up planet.           

As I finish my beer, the old man's last words popped into my head. I've been trying to numb my brain so I can erase them forever, but it seems Karma has swung. I grab another bottle, and chug it down. I know the whole smoke and mirrors when dealing with Madam has been a thorn in my side, but I'm not stupid enough to open that can of fucking worms. The voodoo doll hanging from the rafters has been burned into my fucking brain and I don't want to be the next one she makes. Right now, my role is to take lives, not commit suicide. I chug down the beer as I try my hardest to wipe his death bed confession from my head. I don't even know what he did to Madam, and I don't care. I do what I'm told so I can see the sun rise every morning.

Donnie finally makes it back to the couch with a plastic table. As he sets it down, he says, "Sorry. All this beer is catching up with me."

"It's fine," I lie as I try to forget everything tonight, and numb my brain. I want to erase this evening so I won't say something stupid. I rather live in pure ignorance than become curious, and become Madam's next twisted torture victim. They pay my bills, provide me what I need, and I do their cleaning up of loose ends. It's a perfect barter system, and by even remember those words will throw it out of fucking whack. I need to let them go, and focus on my future.

"Jimmy, what's going on in that head of yours?" Donnie inquires while heading me a new beer.

"Thinking about something," I reply.

"Want a little tip?"

"Sure.”

"We're not paid to think, just react," he says. "So, do whatever it fucking takes, and stop. Ideas will get you killed."

"Trust me, Donnie. I’ve seen Madam's work," I reply before killing off the beer in one gulp. "It's something my..."

"Again, I don't want to know, and don't fucking care." he interrupts. "Forget about it, and be the muscle you're paid to be. Brains are not our department."

I fall silent because he's right. I wasn't hired to balance their books. I'm here to make people go silent, and make sure the rest pay back their debts so the actual brains department can keep me paid. I could have a damn PHD, and I still wouldn't be here to come up with ideas. As Donnie said, I'm nothing more than a hired gun. It's bad enough I'm already on Madam's speed dial. I would hate to see what she would do if I try to show any signs of smarts outside of my current position. Also, the whole idea of even making any attempt at learning Madam's true identity is a fucking suicide mission.

"Look, Jimmy. Here's the truth. Whatever we're told to do, we just do," he explains. "Even if they're asking for your opinion, keep your fucking mouth shut, but always keep your eyes and ears open."

"I got it, man," I reply. "The target was trying to fuck with me, and I let them. I'm forgetting about it, and moving on."

"Good. I don't want to lose you over bullshit. Now, let's finish this beer so we can get some sleep tonight."

We spend the next hour killing off the last of the beer shooting the breeze. The more I talk to Donnie, the more I feel he's the only friend I got here so far, but if I do anything to hurt the organization, he will slit my throat without a second thought. I do find it nice to see an actual face with the day to day, but I even feel he's hiding secrets from me. Then again, this entire industry is about secrets. You don't deal with the dark underbelly of the city without having a closet full of skeletons. The deadliest thing about our profession is our past. You don't make a living without breaking a few skulls, and when you break the wrong skull you could be next one getting your head bashed in.

I finish off my last beer, and see Donnie is passed out on the couch. I'm about to say something when I find myself slipping into sleep as well. I try to look up at the stars, but my eyelids feel like they're made out of lead. As I finally succumb to the alcohol induced sleep, I begin to think that the next time shit like this happens, don't let it get to my head. I can kill a man without remorse, but their parting words hang on me like stink hangs on to dog shit. As my eyes close for the night, I accept this truth: if they get in your mind, you're good as fucking dead where you stand. In other words, acting dumb as shit will keep me alive longer.