The Bank

"Hey, Frankie...how ya doin'? Yeah, it's me, Vinnie. Do you have the phone number to the guy?" The dark-haired man with the manic looking eyes looked like he was just getting off a jobsite. His work boots had large white splatters of plaster and paint on them, and his blue work shirt had a nametag on it, saying VInnie. He was standing on a sidewarlk in front of a bar in the neighborhood. "Yeah, yeah, yeah....I got it"...he pulled a pencil stub out of his shirt pocket and scribbled a number on a small notepad. "Thanks...I owe ya one."

The dark sedan pulled up to the curb quietly while he was talking to the person on the other end of the phone conversation. The darkened window in the back rolled down silently, revealing a dark haired man with a striped blue suit and a pony tail holding a revolver with a silencer pointed at the man on the curb.

"Yo, Vinnie. I think I got somethin' for you. Complements of the boss..." and the quiet Phew... Phew... Phew... sounded...as the man in the car shot Vinnie in the back three times. Vinnie dropped like a sack of potatoes on the sidewalk, black streams of blood glistening in the purple neon of the bar sign overhead. The window rolled up, and the dark sedan merged into the busy street traffic.

The dark sedan pulled into the restaurant parking lot, and the parking attendant at the front of the lot pushed the button to let the sedan enter. The man in the dark suit got out of the back of the car, pulling his jacket down to pull the wrinkles out, looking at his reflection in the dark mirrorlike back window....fixing a small hair out of place...and knocked on the driver's window.

"Don't go nowhere. I'll be right back."

The front door greeter opened the front door of the restaurant....and greeted him almost with admiration....

"Hey, Sal...are you going to see the chef? "

The dark man in the business suit, not saying anything, walked past him...but nodded as he did. That was the signal. The maitre'd smiled and walked two steps forward from the counter, and opened the door concealed behind the potted palm. "The Chef is waiting...." and nonchalantly closed the door behind him.

He walked up the red carpet with the lights at the baseboard going up the stairs to the VIP dining area. Not many people got to see this side of the restaurant, and a few had wished they hadn't.

The round table with the cloth tablecloth on it was at the end of the stair. There were candles and quiet jazz music playing in the background. The round-faced man sat in front of a big steak, his fork poised to his mouth with a slice of it on it. He put the fork down, and smiled...his white pearly teeth were like a movie star's.

"Finally, some good company.....how ya doin'? How is your mother? I didn't see her at mass last Saturday night. My mother isn't gettin' around so good anymore, too. She misses talking to her old friends.

Sal, the man with the ponytail and the dark blue striped suit, walked over to the man sitting at the table...and said," I don't get to town much anymore. The boss in Montreal is keeping me busy. I have to catch a plane back tonight....Ma...she is still alive and kickin'. You know how the old ladies are...she is probably goin' to outlive us all. I need to settle up...and get out before too much happens, if ya get my drift? " He gave the big man a knowing glance.

"Yeah, I remember those days. I gotta get the book...just a minute..." He pushed the chair back from the table and walked over to a flowery painting hanging on the wall. The button under the molding to the right had a hidden button, and he pushed it. The painting opened on a hinged door, and the safe behind it had a biomentric retinal scan. He stood in front of it and the safe door clicked open. He reached his fat hands inside the safe, pulling out a thick business ledger. He walked over to the table, opened the front cover, and licked his thumb....then turned the front page.

"You old man made me a rich man. You know I can get you transferred to the neighborhood anytime you want. I could use a good man like you around here. Can't be too careful, these days, you know..."and he lowered his voice...."your account is being credited....you need any spending money for the trip back to Canada?"

"Maybe I could use a thousand...can't be sure I won't be followed back to Canada. Maybe I should go fishing...I hear the Canadian fishing is good this time of year." The smile on his face gave away the joke he was making.

"Have a good trip home. Let me know when you are back in town and not on business."

He walked over to the safe, pulled out a stack of neatly stacked bills, and handing him three stacks. "Better take a little extra, just in case."

He closed the safe door, and the picture was back in place....it was on an automatic mechanism.

"You want anything to eat for the trip? I could have a ..." as he turned around to finish the sentence the door at the bottom of the stairs clicked shut....he was gone.