Chapter 6: St. John of the Cross
Twenty years ago. Falcone’s Roadhouse.
The roadhouse is seedy and whiskey soaked. Meeks stalks the pool table. This is Meeks in his prime. Badass version of himself. Bad as he’s ever been. He’s alive and vital and he’s like Jupiter in that way with eyes gravitating toward him.
Specifically looking is Linda from the other side of the room. She’s 19 and hot and bothered and too good for anyone else and she has eyes for no one other than Meeks.
The owner of the place is Byron Falcone and this isn’t the only thing he owns. He’s decked out in gold rings and chains and he’s watching Meeks from the corner booth where he likes to sit and watch things.
Falcone keeps three thugs close to him at all times – Danny, Frank and Ike. Every one of them likes to look at Linda but they know she belongs to Meeks. Even as Danny squares off with Meeks at the pool table there is a tension between them all. Something ready to explode.
Meeks breaks and he sinks the 8 ball.
“That’s ten bucks.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Double or nothing I do it again.”
“Fuck you.”
Danny racks it. Meeks busts them up. The 8 ball goes down again. Meeks offers proud laughter and it irks Danny. Danny throws a twenty dollar bill to the floor and turns away. This irks Meeks.
“Pick it up.”
Danny turns back and he’s smiling and it’s obvious he’s hungry for a fight. Frank and Ike perk up. Meeks smiles back at Danny. Harder.
“Or you pick it up with your teeth.”
Danny launches. Along with Frank and Ike. Meeks sidesteps and smashes Ike with the cue stick. Ike goes down. Fists fly. Falcone cocks his head to the brawl with interest in the outcome. Linda warms with excitement as Frank goes down.
Meeks saves Danny for last. He slams Danny to the floor and shoves his face onto the twenty dollar bill.
“Pick it up.”
Danny reaches for it but Meeks elbows him in the center of the back.
“Teeth.”
Danny tongues the bill and finally catches it. Meeks yanks him to his feet. Danny leans forward enough for Meeks to pluck the bill from his lips.
“Pleasure.”
Falcone waves a hand and other minions step in, guns slung across their hips. They escort Meeks to Falcone’s booth where Meeks stands before the big man. Falcone’s right eye bulbs out like an onion as he scrutinizes Meeks.
“Sit down.”
Meeks eyes the minions. Particularly the guns.
“If I wanted you dead you’d be dead already.”
Meeks sits across from the man.
“What’s your name?”
“Russell Meeks.”
“Got some work for you if you want it, Russell Meeks. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here.”
“Never turn it down.”
Falcone grins easily. “Do it good, it’s only the start.”
He slides an envelope and a book across the table to Meeks. Meeks takes it and regards the book. The title is “Dark Night of the Soul” by St. John of the Cross.
“Good book. You should read it. Everyone goes through a dark night of the soul sometime in their life.”
Meeks looks up from the book and he doesn’t say anything.
“It’s the only way to see the light,” Falcone says. “Don’t fuck up. Get out of here. Come back tomorrow.”
Meeks leaves and Linda follows him out. Mission accomplished. He drives her to their apartment which is only a few miles away. The apartment has a nice touch. A creative flare with so little. Linda’s touch.
Linda counts out fifty dollar bills on the coffee table. Meeks pages through the book but it is tough going. He’s never been much of a reader. Linda falls back into the couch and giggles in her sing-song voice Meeks has always loved.
“I told you he’d hire you.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“What does he want you to do?”
“Why should I tell you?”
Meeks falls onto her and kisses her with raw passion. She takes him in.
“I’m your partner, baby.”
Meeks cocks his lips into a half smile. It’s that cocky smile that Linda can’t resist.
“Nothing big.”
Linda bubbles over with glee. She rolls with Meeks.
Meeks holds her. “One day I’m going to take you all the way to Mexico with all the money we’re going to make and we’re going to live like kings.”
“Is that right?”
“Hell yeah. You can be my queen, baby.”
And they give into each other there. Afterward Meeks goes into the bathroom and he shuts the door and he locks it. He stares into the mirror and the façade he’s given Linda is no longer there. He’s afraid of something. He splashes water onto his face and takes a long hard look at himself.
“Nothing big,” he tells himself.
He has a specific job to perform for Falcone and Falcone tells him the job the next night from across the booth at the roadhouse. The room is dark and empty now and somehow more serious. Falcone puffs on a fat cigar and the smoke swirls around his face like a wraith.
“His name is Davis Portnoy. Sick son of a bitch. He likes the young ones. Fuckin’ prick. I got a daughter that age. Likes to beat them up. Bust their faces. Their insides. Sick fuck. Son of a bitch owes me a lot of money. Got it? Only the fucker's not paying. So we took a little policy out on him. Fuck him, right?”
Meeks nods. Falcone slides a gun and a book across the table. Meeks stares at them.
“He shouldn’t hurt little girls like that. Right? Somebody oughta bury a piece of shit like that. Right?
Meeks nods and he takes the gun and the book. He pockets them. On his face is an expression of stone but behind that is a man uncertain if he can do what he has been tasked to do.
“Some of these sons of bitches think they can do anything they want. Without consequences. Go deliver that book. Consequences.”