The Truck

“I drove it straight over to Seymour’s place”

“Well why the fuck did you do that? Come on, taking it to the old man? You know better than that, in a situation like that you take the truck to Tommy’s, he’s our priority.”

“So, what you want me to do? take it over to Tommy’s?”

“What did Seymour say?”

“60.”

“60! Take it to Tommy’s, fucking 60, do me a favour, don’t ever take a truck over to the old bastard again, you here? Under no circumstances does Seymour get first look at a truck again, you understand me? I ain’t got time for that kind of shit.”

I walked out the back of the restaurant and headed for the truck. I knew already I wasn’t making it home for the game, goes with the territory. I got a truck full of Argentinian red wine, 350 cases of the shit has to be disappeared by tomorrow, and Tommy, it pains me to see, Tommy.

Just so you know, she was the one who came onto Me. She wears those female business suits, hiked up the skirt, said she’d been thinking about this for a long time, all that shit. I was dead against it logically, but it happened anyway, logic doesn’t seem to matter in certain circumstances. Her and Tommy had been married for 15 years, 15 years and no kids, Tommy left it late because he was still rising the ranks and didn’t want to raise children while playing the game. Trouble is, he left it too late, by the time he tried to knock her up, he was firing blanks. Tommy and Elsa Jessop, the couple without no kids, that's how people knew them.

I would have made as much by selling 60 cases to Seymour as I will the whole 350 to Tommy, Tommy’s hard in business like that, him the boss are tight so I can't pull no stunts, not like Seymour, senile old fool's always got the wool over his eyes, nothing he didn’t do himself back in the day.

I pull up outside Tommy’s restaurant. Hope this goes over easy, a lot of the time, things that shouldn’t, they just go over easy for me, but this is Tommy, so I ain't holding out much hope.

“Hey, Fat Mo, how you doing? Tommy in?”

“Go on through, he’s in the back.”

Fat Mo doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, not since I told Tommy he was fencing stolen Ikea furniture in his warehouse. As long as he’s paying Tommy back, I suppose we have to talk. Matters very little to me.

I walk through the back, games probably starting right now.

“Tommy.” I shake his hand with my weak grip, he needs to have the stronger handshake if I’m going to get what I need and get out of here.

“What you got for me.”

Poor infertile bastard, I think to myself.

“350 red, Argentinian.”

“350! jesus christ kid, bottles maybe, maybe I can take 350 bottle of your hands.”

“I got to lose the truck by tomorrow morning, Tommy”

“Well ain’t that a fuckin’ shame. Why don’t you go see, Seymour?”

“Your our top priority. Tommy, I got to be honest; we could use a little help on this one.”

“Fuck, kid, 350. I hate to do this to you, and let me say first of all,  I do respect you bringing the goods to me first, but I can’t take 350.”

I know he’s not playing hardball, he doesn’t have to play hardball with us no more, it’s been straight up for years, I’m fucked on this one.

Tommy’s phone rings. I know the drill, I step outside. I wait around. A full fucking truck! In case your wondering, a full truck at a time like this is a very bad thing.

Tommy starts screaming, jumping all over the office, banging around. It gets so loud that Fat Mo runs in from the front and pushes through the door. Tommy just tells him to fuck off.

“Kid, get your ass in here!”

I walk into the office.

“It’s your lucky fucking day, kid, I’m gonna take your 350, you must be the luckiest son of a bitch alive because I will take your fucking 350. Can you believe it, kid? 15 years. 15 years we’ve waited, I knew I wasn’t firing blanks.”

“Elsa’s pregnant?” I ask.

“Your damn right she’s fucking pregnant, and you better thank her, because without those ovaries kicking into gear you’d be driving of with a full fucking truck tonight, my friend.”

We both burst into laughter, mine is fake.

“Let’s just hope for thing, kid.”

“What’s that?” I ask

“That he grows up to be just as crafty as his old man.”

“I’ll drink to that Tommy!”