08.13.08
Orphan fighter, pt. 2
It wasn’t until the day of the meeting that I remembered that I hadn’t asked Ferdinando when we were supposed to get there. What? I was too busy getting other people to pay back their debts to bother with much else.
Anyway, I called up Ferdi and asked him when the meeting was.
“Yo Ferd, what’s up?”
“Ahh, Jackie boy, that you?”
“Yeah man, I need to talk about the meeting today. What time is it at?”
“Oh snap! I forgot about all that! Sorry bro, I can’t make it tonight.”
“What’s the deal?”
“Eheh, you know how it is.”
“Your old lady giving you grief again?”
“You know it.”
“Damn, I was getting all jacked up, too.”
“Hmm, I tell you what, Jack, get there tonight at around 11 and tell ‘em you’re a friend of the Ferd. I mean, they won’t turn you away as long as you got money, but it don’t hurt to have a connection, you know?”
“Sounds good, but yo, I got a question–”
“What’s that?”
“What am I getting myself into here? I mean, an orphanarium? What’s that all about?”
“Eheh, it’s like gambling on the ponies…”
“‘Cept what, the ponies are homeless kids?”
“You got it, mate.”
“I dunno man, sounds kinda shady.”
“But you saw the payout — the money’s for real.”
“No denying that. But what, they got the kids racing around in circles?”
“You’re thinking too small, man, there’s no fun in that.”
“Then what?”
“Fighting.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you heard me.”
“A bunch of shorties beating the snot of each other?”
“Haha, I know, right?”
“Dude, I’d pay to see that!”
“Alright man, have fun then. Tell the boys I said hello.”
“The boys — you mean the kids?”
“Haha, good one. Look, I gotta run. Show up yourself if you want a good time, alright?”
“Cool cool. Thanks for the tip, bro. And good luck with the woman.”
What a guy, right? I played it like I was down with it all, but I was feeling a bit nervous, if you know what I mean. Whoever these guys were, they sure as hell ain’t boy scouts. I wasn’t so sure that showing up at a meeting of lowlife strangers with five grand was the best idea.
I ended up showing up with two-point-five. Just to be safe.
I pulled into the vacant lot across the street from the place at 10:30 to case up the joint. By the light of the full moon, I watched a procession of dirty looking dudes drive up in their beat-up pimped-out caddies. Not exactly the kind of crowd I have Sunday brunch with. I was starting to feel the urge to blow it off when I saw a convoy of black eurocars coming. One of them was a van, and when the people started coming out of them, I knew that there was some serious dough about to flow tonight. When all the suits were out of the cars, they walked up to the van and opened the door in the back. Out came a bunch of kids — none of them looked more than 10 years old. There must’ve been four or five of them, all boys. After they went inside, I got out of my car and walked across the street. I saw bold white letters written across the side of the van as I approached the orphanarium. “Dale’s House of Orphans.”
When I reached the door, I gave it a rap and stepped back.
“Who’re you?” A voice came from somewhere below my knees. It was a mail slot, and there appeared to be someone pointing a gun through it.
“Whoa, careful with that thing,” I said.
“Who’re you?” He repeated the question.
“I’m a friend of Ferdinando,” I told him. “I’m here to play the ponies.”
“It’s a hundred bucks at the door.” A hand stuck out through the slot. Damn Ferdinando, he didn’t mention they’d be scalping me before I even got in the door.
“Fine.” I dropped a c-note into the meaty paw of the mystery man and waited for the door to open.
“Welcome to the show,” he said, and the door opened to reveal a big ol’ dude wearing the most ridiculous monocle you ever saw. “I’m the shepherd here at the Lord’s Children. Tonight’s festivities will be held in the basement, so take the door at the end of the hall and find a seat.”
“Thanks, buddy.” I said.
He sized me up for a second before stepping aside to let me through.
“Mind your manners, buddy,” he told me. “Ferdinando almost got his ass beat talking like that.”
I shrugged him off and walked down the hall. After walking down a pair of narrow stairs in utter darkness, I came to a dimly lit room filled with thirty or so guys and dolls, many of them clasping bills in their hands or smoking their preferred forms of tobacco.
“Looks interesting,” I said as I sat down beside an old man wearing a tricorn hat.
He opened his mouth in an awkward way that resembled a smile. If I had seen a single tooth in there, I could’ve told you for sure.
“You new here, boy?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet on the ones that have good teeth,” he said.