The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - A Perpetual Tempest

      Despite the AC in my motel room being on the lowest fucking setting possible, I'm still sweating like a pig in a bacon factory even though I'm down to my boxers. I wipe the sweat off my forehead as I try to go through the care package Amber left for me at the diner inside a duffel bag. The five grand in cash was a huge help because without it, I wouldn't be in this room that is conveniently next door to the diner. I honestly don't where I would be tonight if I couldn't spring this room for the night to gather my thoughts. However, as the back of my legs feel like a damn swamp, I think maybe sleeping outside wouldn't be so bad. At least I would be doing it for free instead of blowing fifty bucks.

      I toss the bag onto the bed, and throw back on my pants. I step out into the muggy night air, and light up a cigarette. As I watch a thunderstorm approaching, I begin to wonder when will this never-ending fucking cyclone of bullshit stop. I know life isn't always made up of rainbows and shit, but my life feels like I'm in a damn porta-otty trapped in a never-ending tornado. With each flash of lightning, I wonder when will the light of my life go out in a flash followed by the roar of Death celebrating as he finally takes my condemned soul to Hell. I've been fucking lucky to weather the storm, but the chaos that surrounds me will take my last breath, and I will finally discover the calmness after the tempest.

      I finish my smoke, and head back inside as it begins to pour. I place the duffel bag into the closet so I can deal with it tomorrow as I begin to succumb to exhaustion. As I'm about to lie down, there's a knock on my door. I ignore it since no one knows I'm here, and since I paid cash, the motel manager didn't even ask for a name.  A minute later, there's a barrage of knocks like someone thinks my fucking door is a drum kit.

      I storm over to it, and foolishly swing it open. I'm greeted with the muzzle of a pistol in my face being held by a tall, stocky man wearing a black t-shirt and black pants. I can see in his green eyes he's dead serious as he asks, "May we come in?"

      "Sure," I reply realizing my error for not looking first. Also, I'm not denying anyone’s demands while they hold a gun in my face.

      Another man in the same outfit walks in, and does a sweep of the room. He finds the duffel bag, and dumps out the contents onto the floor. I see inside there are a notebook, a large envelope, a cell phone, a few changes of clothes, a pistol with two clips, and a box of ammo. The man unloads the pistol, and puts it into his pants pocket and announces, "All clear."

      I watch as an older gentleman strolls into the room. His blue eyes are cold as ice while his white hair is slicked back. I can't help notice the scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. He adjusts his navy suit jacket and sits down in the chair. The other goon closes the door, and locks it as the pistol remains locked on my face. He walks back to the older guy and hands him my pistol. I feel sweat running down my back as I begin to accept that this is the night I finally meet my maker.

      "Vlad, don't be rude," says the older gentleman in a heavy Russian accent. "Put your gun away."

      "You sure, boss? He does have a reputation," replies Vlad.

      "What did I say, Vlad?" snaps back the old man.

      Vlad lowers the pistol from my face, and walks over to stand to the left of the old guy.

      "Now, sit please. We're here for a business proposal, " replies the old man.

      I sit down on the bed and lie, "I'm not sure of what business you mean. I'm just a man on vacation."

      "Ronnie, why must you lie?" asks the man. "This proposal will lead to the one thing you truly desire."

      I feel the sweat now dripping off my body as I try to figure out how this guy knows who I am. I don't remember meeting him while I was in Curva, and I don't recall any mentions of connections or dealings with Russians.  I heard a few rumors that they were unhappy with Madam's rapid expansion in the tantrix market, but I dismissed them as that. However, they are no longer fucking rumors as I got one in my motel room offering me some kind of deal. I hope this isn't another shit storm blowing in as I ask, "What kind of offer?"

      "We know who you are working with, and who you used to work for. How about we help each other so you can get rid of your lady troubles?"

      "I don't know what lady troubles you are referring to," I retort. I really wish I know who the fuck this guy is, and how he knows so much about me. Not even a day out of the hospital, and I'm dealing with this shit. I honestly wonder what it will take for me to have a fucking day off, and live in peace.

      "Here's the deal, Ronnie. I want you to help us take down Madam, but at the same time, distract your government friend from interfering with our work," he explains.

      "What do I get out of this?"

      "For starters, I won't kill you," he replies.

      I pause as I accept if he truly did want to kill me, I would have been dead by Vlad's hand the instant I opened the door. Also, the fact he wants to take down Madam has a thousand questions running through my head. My guess is she's been killing his business, and wants to do a hostile takeover. Either way, no matter what I decided, the bullshit storm still rages on. I swear it feels like Death is keeping me fucking alive as his entertainment. As I place my hand over the bullet wound in my chest, I reply, "What do I have to do?"

      "We'll be in touch once you're fully healed. You're no good to me while injured," he states. "Vlad, hand him back his pistol, and his new phone."

      As Vlad hands me a cell phone and my unloaded pistol back, the old guy adds, "In a week, call the number stored in there, and ask for Boris. Understand?"

      "I do."

      "One last thing, Amber needs to know nothing about this meeting, or her funeral will be closed casket."

      "Got it."

      The old man gets up, and leaves the room followed by Vlad and the other goon. As they close the door, I begin to wonder how in the hell does trouble always fucking find me. I did not expect to deal with what I'm assuming is part of the fucking Russian mafia tonight, but here I am with a cell phone of theirs, and orders. I stare at the phone and pistol while wishing that the bullet that ripped through my chest did killed me. I smirk as I realize it would have been a quick death instead of this long, drawn out suicide I'm currently committing.

      I go over to the closet, and load the pistol once more. I place it under my pillow, and finally lock the door before anything other bullshit blows in. I pick up the phone Amber provided me, and turn it on before laying back down in the bed, and stare at the ceiling as I think that in less than a day, I'm back in the middle of another shit storm. I knew that my life wouldn't be filled with fucking rainbows, but this is going to the fucking extreme. Realizing sleep is not going to happen, I get dress to go get the one thing that brings me joy in life: blueberry pancakes.

      However, as I'm about to leave the room, the cell phone from Amber goes off. It's a text message that simply says the number 7 at 8am. I grab the notebook from the closet, and see that number 7 is to meet her at an address unarmed. I don't know where it is exactly, but will ask the motel manager in the morning. I sigh as I undress accepting that pancakes will have to wait. I climb back into bed, and stare at the pouring rain. I think to myself as I finally give into exhaustion hat one day, the rain will stop, and I can finally enjoy the calm after the storm. 

The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - A Soiled Word

      The problem with hospitals is you spend all day lost inside your head because sleep is nearly impossible as they poke and prod you every two hours. Even though I've been giving strong pain pills due to my wound, my mind refuses to shut down every day for the past two weeks I've been stuck here. I sit in my bed trying to process all the shit that went down inside that house, and I'm getting nowhere. Every idea I came up with is more twisted than a fucking Slinky inside a tornado. The entire string of events makes no damn sense, and I'm going to fucking lose my mind.

      I keep recalling my snake dream, but the day of the bomb is making me second-guess my theory about Amber. She was in the room when I heard Madam. Also, she doesn't strike me as the type that would set up explosives when she's going to be in the same room. She might have a dangerous job, but I doubt she's that suicidal. That alone is making me think that the snake dream was more of my mind saying to never trust her fully. However, it also makes me stop theorizing she's Madam.

      Richard, on the other hand, is the biggest mystery I'm trying to break wide fucking open.  I already loathe his dumbass for almost getting us killed over a happy ending. Now, as I remember him holstering his pistol after I was shot in the chest makes me wonder what his true intentions are. He was the last person in the house as the gun went off as well. The only problem is I have no way to prove it. The bullet made a clear exit of my body, and if there was a gun in the house, the bomb took care of it.

      The bomb is the other part that is bothering the fuck out of me. When I was in Curva, we never used explosives. The main reason is they're purely attention grabbers which is something Blue never wanted. We were taught to be discreet when we solved problems. I don't think any of Blue's normal crew had any bomb making skills. If we had to get rid of a body, we either ditched deep in a swamp, took out into the deep parts of The Gulf of Mexico, or Butcher disposed of it by other means. It's far from Madam's normal operations, but it did achieve the goal that whoever planted it wanted. If it was Madam, her message was well received that she'll do whatever it takes to end my life.

      So, I'm back to square fucking one. I still want to know what shiteating bastard shot me, and for what reason. If it's one of Madam's crew, I’m ready to start at the bottom and work my way to the fucking top. I'm already furious that Chulupa was mutilated by Madam. Now, I have to watch my own back as well. I wonder if that Curva cop divulged any new information. He was in Atlanta on Madam's behalf, and would be nice to learn why. I swear every time I stumble on a new lead, it's literally blown to fucking pieces. I'm seriously beyond tired of the secrecy, and the depths Madam will go to keep them hidden.

      I'm startled as there's a knock at my door. I glance up to see Amber standing there holding a foam takeout box. I smile as I smell the sweet aroma of pancakes as she walks in, and sits down on the chair next to my bed.

      "Why, hello beautiful, " I say as my mouth drools over the pancakes inside the box.

      "I take it you're smelling the pancakes," she replies as she sets the box on my bed tray.

      "Maybe, maybe not," I reply smiling. No matter what happens, I can't deny how beautiful Amber is on the outside. After the bomb incident, part of me is saying to trust her a little more, but there's still the bloody gap where my heart used to be. I'm torn as I’m slowly accepting she's not Madam, but can't forget she used me. Right now, I'm struggling to accept she's not a threat, but I should try to restore at least a friendship if we want to get out of this alive.

      "So, what's your take on the bomb?” she asks.

      "I think someone is trying to be a copycat," I reply. "How Chulupa was murder screams Madam's handiwork, but the whole explosives is making me think it was someone else."

      "Why? I know my time within the cartel secrecy was key."

      "Madam prefers to stay in the shadows. We worked on the basis of stealth," I explain. "There are times where we didn't even use guns to fix the leaks so to speak. If she does have any kinds of explosives, I never seen them, much less heard of them being used."

      "Then there's the other mystery," she sighs.

      "Who shot me," I say.

      "Yep. However, whoever did plant that bomb made our jobs so much harder."

      "It wiped out any evidence, and made sure Chulupa’s body couldn't be autopsied," I state. "Did that cop from Curva know anything?"

      "Well, there's a problem with him."

      "Not talking?"

      "He was found last night in his cell poisoned," she explains. "I know it's an inside job since no one outside of the guards and us have access. Someone is covering their tracks to the point you're slowly becoming the only person I can trust anymore."

      "That's a soiled word between us," I sigh. "However, I beginning to think that this whole fucking situation is an inside job as well."

      "I have a plan," she says. "What I'm about to say doesn't go no further."

      I eat my breakfast while listening as she lays out the groundwork for her plan. The entire foundation of her idea is once I'm healed enough to get out of here, I'm going underground. I won't have any electronics or anything. She wants me so off the grid that I might have to be homeless for a bit so there's no way anyone can track me. The problem we face is if we need to reach other since I won't have a cellphone. We spend the next thirty minutes when I came up with an idea. We make a code system where I'll call from a random phone, and use a sentence to describe the place to meet and the purpose. We'll have to figure out a few places because if we keep meeting at the same place, I'll be found.

      "When you leave here, go to Peach Diner and ask for Larry," she says. "The book will be there along with a few other things."

      "Got it. Sure this will work?"

      "If you can trust me enough, yes."

      "At this point, I trust you enough to go to that diner," I reply.

      "Good. I'm going to get out of here. Again, go see Larry once you're discharged."

      She leaves the room, and I finish my pancakes while thinking about what the fuck just happened. I can't believe I made a fucking deal with the same woman who ripped out my heart. However, with someone trying to kill both her and I, it's the only way we'll survive. I also think more and more there's something up with Richard. That fucking prick is probably Madam's mole. Once I get out of here, I'm going to start my original plan of bringing down Madam. I'm fucking tired of worrying if the next step I take is my last.

      An hour later, a nurse walks in. She hands me my clothes and a piece of paper while stating. "You're free to go."

      I quickly get dressed, and walk out of the hospital. I use my last few bucks for a pack of smokes, and bus fare. As I sit on a bus heading towards Peach Diner, I hope this isn't another setup. However, I also think if Amber really wanted me dead, she could have easily done in the hospital. Needless to say, Larry is the person who holds the keys to my future. Right now, the future is unsteady as a house built on quick sand. I pray that the plan we made will work so I can end the madness of Madam while finding out the bastard that shot me. If this diner is a trap, they better at least serve me pancakes before ending it all.

The Madam Of Suburbia Chapter 18

Chapter 18 – The Message 

       There's one inevitable fucking truth in this world regardless of who or what you worship, and that is one day Death will cut you the fuck down. You can spend every damn day on your knees praying, but you'll never escape that moment when the flames of your life are snuffed out by the cold winds of decay. When it does happen, we all hope it's peaceful and painless: a nap you never woke up. Other times, it can be quick like the pull of cold steel as the last thing that you ever experience is a bullet into your fucking head. The worst kind of demise is the long, drawn out affair where every moment is full of pain and agony until Death brings relief to your tortured soul. Either way, once your number is up, there's shit you can do but accept your fate.

       Today, I face the final moments that no fucking human wants to face, or curse on their fellow man. I find myself standing in the doorway of a dark bedroom chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette as I'm forced to relive my first meeting with Madam as hanging from the ceiling is my friend Theodore "Chulupa" Matthews. His body is bounded by chains to boards as steel rebar was jammed through his hands and feet. The makeshift cross is hung by chains from the roof as his blood was collected into a steel barrel cut in half. I can fucking imagine crucifixion is a shitty way to go, but he wasn't just fucking crucified like Jesus was. I almost throw up as I try to count the various blades shoved into almost every inch of his body, included the foot long nails shoved into his eye sockets. Madam has sent us a message, and sadly Chulupa is the fucking messenger.

       "What a mess," Amber asks while standing next to me as we watch Richard take photos of the scene. "No wonder the local sheriff called us in."

       "Madam's handy work," I spat as I light up another cigarette.

       "Mind if I ask how you knew the victim?"

       "Theodore 'Chulupa' Matthews. He was one of the best botanist ever, and loved his chulupas," I reply. "One of the few people I called friend."

       "Botanist," Richard snorts. "Fancy way to say he grew marijuana."

       I ignore the prick as I wonder if reaching out to anyone was a wise idea. Far as Madam knew, I died at that charity event. Now, because a few calls, my friend ended up being another fucking sadistic pincushion a week after that Curva pig was spotted in Atlanta.  I realize that once you're in Madam's clutches, the grave is the only way to truly escape. As I stare at Chulupa, I realize that I'm truly on borrowed time. Madam is going to be calling to collect my debt very soon, and my damned soul is payment.

       As Amber studies the multiple knives sticking out of the corpse, I see a red LED turn on above Chulupa's makeshift cross.

       "Amber, above the cross, a light just turned on," I state as I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

       She turns on a flashlight, and shines it on the ceiling as we discover there's a security camera attached to the ceiling.

       "Hello, Ronnie," comes Madam's voice from the camera. "For a dead man, you're a busy person."

       As Amber continues to shine the light around the camera, I almost shit myself when I see wires coming from the camera down to Chulupa's torso. It might be nothing, but I motion for everyone to start exiting the house quickly by pointing towards the front door as I reply, "I'm doing Satan's work."

       "Now, Ronnie. Don't lie. You no longer work for me since you decided to betray my trust."

       "Well, shit happened, and they offered me a deal that doesn't involve my soul being damned for eternity."

       "I'm about to send you and many more damned souls to Hell in ten..."

       "Everyone get the fuck out!" I shout. As I'm turning around, there's a sharp crack sound as something hits me in the chest as I begin to exit the house, almost tackling Richard in the process. Richard and I are the last two to scramble out of the small house as Madam keeps counting down. We barely have time to duck behind the cars parked against the curb with everyone else as the house explodes in a massive fireball. The shock wave of the blast knocks out all the windows in the cars, showering us in shards of glass. I look around to see everyone else made out safely, but the street is filled with burning debris. Amber tries to say something, but the ringing in my ears has made me deaf. She points to my chest with a look of horror on her face.

       I glance down, and see blood gushing from my chest. If the bomb didn't finish me off, she had a backup plan as I realize that sharp crack was a gunshot. Whoever installed the camera hid a remote control gun in there as well. The room was a set up to make sure today was my last day on this wretched planet. I begin to feel lightheaded as Amber rips off her shirtsleeves, and pressing them against my chest as she starts yelling. I can't make out anything as the ringing gets louder in my ears. I see Richard on the phone as Amber keeps her hands pressed hard on both sides of my torso as I start coughing. I almost puke as I taste the iron ting of blood.

       I try to say something as blood starts trickling from my mouth. I always knew that I would meet Death because of a bullet, but didn't see it happening this way. As I lean against the car watching the chaos unfolded around me, Amber kisses my forehead as I feel her tears fall onto my neck. Even though she ripped my heart out, she's crying as I struggle to stay conscious. I smile as I see an ambulance rushing towards us as she words, "I still love you."

       As my eyes begin to get heavy, I notice Richard is holding his pistol as he approaches us with a smirk across his face. I tap Amber and motion towards Richard, but he puts his pistol back into the shoulder holster before she can turn around. I begin to think as I feel the cold grip of Death's hand on my shoulder that the fucking bastard shot me. He stands over me still smirking while Amber does her best to slow down my bleeding as I slowly to slip into unconsciousness. The last thing I see is Richard making a slicing motion across his throat.