The Job
It was early. Too damned early for Johnny, but he was there anyway. He took a long last draw from his menthol Superking and flicked the butt. It was at that moment that he knew he should have wound the window down. Now there was ash on the floor of the Capri and Johnnys crotch was on fire. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. He glared through the windscreen at “The Thyme, The Plaice”, Mamma Burlonis flag ship Chip Shop. Or Chipperama as she preferred to call them (Johnny conjectured that it must be Italian).
It was only half past six in the A.M. and the Chippy wouldn’t open for another forty five minutes for the early morning rush. Johnny could never understand how builders could eat so much greasy food for breakfast, but then he was a muesli man through and through. It was the only thing left that he could do for his father. Anyway, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t there fishing for breakfast, he hoped to catch a memory.
It was over ten years since he first sat outside that chip shop. In those days he drove a red Fiat Uno and could only dream of cruising the streets in a throbbing machine called a Capri. The Uno was small but it was all Johnny had, what it lacked in power, Johnny made up for in bravado. He wasn’t feeling so brave on that first night however. The night he first met The Mamma. He had sat there for over an hour, trying to pluck up the courage to go inside. Mamma had a reputation, all Johnny had were the clothes he stood up in (well technically sat down in, he was still in the Uno). He was a tough kid though, slowly making a name for himself. Sometimes among the right people, mainly among the wrong people. At that age he didn’t care who they were, as long as they were paying. He would do anything to get out of Greater Londonburys worst slum, The Burt Reynolds Estate, known to locals as The J.J.’s. So here he was, ready to deal with the devil. An old Italian female devil.
He stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. He was dressed in dark blue Wranglers with matching denim jacket and Dunlop green flash trainers. He looked the nuts. He ran a hand through his greasy black hair, slicked back and held in place with classic Ray Bans. He took another deep breath, if he didn’t move soon, he would look like a massive fanny. And in a town where the only currency is pain, a fanny finishes last. He wishes for the first time that he smoked and could suck in the sticky sweet smoke to calm his nerves. He had promised his mother that he would never smoke and he hadn’t. By the end of this job, he would break his mothers heart.
A bell above the door jangled as he entered. There were no customers, just a tough looking broad behind the counter. Well she wasn’t so much tough looking as she was rough looking. She was a real skank. Johnny noticed her hands covered in prison tats so he knew not to cross her.
“I’m here about the delivery job”, repeating exactly what he had been told to say. The assistant stared at him blankly and he wondered if she had understood what he had said. He debated whether or not to repeat it, knowing that etiquette was everything to these people. If he spoke out of turn then he could get killed, tortured or worse. Luckily the fryer made her move and nodded almost imperceptibly towards a door at the back of the shop. “Thanks,” said Johnny.
The door lead straight on to a steep staircase, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb – a 40 watt at the max. Each step produced a painful creak, Johnny cringing every time, not wanting to make a scene. He kept his arms in to his body, the walls were peeling and rotten and almost seemed to pulse with life. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the top. He gathered himself and knocked quickly, the sooner this was over with the better, don’t give yourself chance to change your mind. A deep voice grunted “Come in you slag!” and so the slag did as he was told.
Upon entered the room, Johnny reeled, trying to take in the drastic change of surroundings. From the squalid exterior one could never guess the levels of opulence within. This was Mamma Burlonis office and she made sure everyone knew she was powerful. Crushed red velvet covered the floor and walls. On top of this, the walls were adorned with expensive looking art, and even knew that many of them were old masters. The originals were supposed to be in museums, but Johnny knew who was really in charge. To top things off everything else was covered in gold. Even the curtains were made from solid gold. In the centre of the room was a giant desk, which on closer inspection appeared to be in the shape of an elephants head carved entirely from ivory. With some gold bits added on. Stood in the corner of the room was a huge man (although on his first glance, Johnny questioned the creatures humanity) who was the growl that had beckoned Johnny in to the room. He would later that this was Bertie, Mamma Burlonis fearless bodyguard (and some time lover). Finally Johnny looked behind the desk and at its occupant, Mamma herself. She was as tiny and dessicated as people had said. He fought the urge to say “hmm the force is strong in this one”, he didn’t think it would go down too well. She motioned for him to sit. There wasn’t a chair. He plonked himself down on the floor. She began to speak.
“So. You’re Johnny Fireheart. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re becoming something of a nuisance. I like that. My name is Mamma Burloni, although I am sure you already knew that. I have a job offer for you. You can decide not to take it if you wish not too. That is your choice. Of course if you do turn it down then you leave me with no choice. Do we understand each other? Good, I thought so, you’re a bright boy. On to business. Some of my… associates have become a little sloppy of late. A certain package that I was expecting became….mislaid. I need this package and I need it now. A woman in my position acquires many… enemies. I would not like to think of the consequences if one of them located it first. I hear you are an expert at locating items that do not wish to be found. Find this for me and I will be very..grateful. Go now, go to the Club Tropicana and speak to my son, he will tell you all you need to know”
Johnny stood up and gave a sort of semi-bow, not really know what to do. He moved slowly toward the door, not turning his back on Mamma, like you’re supposed to do with the queen. He opened the door and moved back onto the landing. As he closed the door he heard the parting words, “Don’t let me down Johnny”.
The rusty red Fiat squealed as Johnny hit the gas, his body wired with adrenalin. He was relieved to get out of the office in one piece and excited about the prospect of the Club Tropicana. It was Greater Londonburys most exclusive and exotic night spot and previously Johnny had been neither exclusive nor exotic enough to gain admittance. This time he was expected.
He parked in an alley around the corner from the club. Getting out of the car, he brushed himself down, looking in the wing mirror to check he was presentable. He was presentable for The J.J.’s not for Club Tropicana, he just had to keep telling himself that he was expected. The front of the club was guarded by two human rottweilers called Biff and Dave. In another decade Johnnys opinion of the two will have declined more than the fortunes of Club Tropicana. Here and now, Johnny is shit scared of them, not that he would show it. Biff and Dave looked him up and down and Johnny feared they would turn him away. Reluctantly they let him through.
Johnny scanned the room. It was dark but he could still recognise many of the faces. He could make a fortune if he told the press what was going on in there. He just wouldn’t be alive long enough to spend it. He looked at the stage and the beautiful dancers gyrating hypnotically, all hoping to snare a rich boyfriend. Johnny was beneath their notice so he concentrated on finding Mammas son. He’d never met Bobby The Lips before and he had a reputation almost as terrifying as his mother. What was Johnny getting himself in to. Eventually he spotted a roped off VIP area and made his way toward it. Another Gorilla growled as Johnny approached but the sweaty bald man in the expensive suit waved him through. This was Burloni. The Lips was entertaining a group of local celebrities including car dealer Barry Trumpknuts and television weathergirl Sheila Grant. Next to Burloni, Johnny saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on. She was wearing what amounted to sparkly dental floss and her lithe body oozed sexuality. More importantly she had a twinkle in her eye. As Johnny approached she smiled at him. It was all he could do to stop his legs turning to jelly.
“Sit down my boy,” remarked Burloni, “call me Bobby”.
“Thank you Mr Burloni, I mean Bobby. Your mother sent me.”
“Yes, yes, there’s plenty of time for all of that my friend. Have some champagne with me and my friends first, have you met Choo-Choo?” Burloni looked over to goddess who had smiled at Johnny.
“Pleased to meet you Johnny” she said, and offered Johnny her hand, which he shook. It looked almost as if she was blushing, but surely he was imagining it. Burloni clicked his fingers and a flunky appeared with a fresh bottle of Cristal (it’s what all the rappers drink doncha know). The waiter popped the cork and a small amount frothed over the neck of the bottle
“Dennis Yanney!” exclaimed Burloni, “Can’t you do anything right? You’re fired you imbecile. Get out!”. The waiter slinked away from the VIP area and out of the club forever.
“Calm down Bobby, it’s just a little wine,” soothed Choo-Choo. Johnny wondered if they were lovers. He couldn’t stand it if they were. He’d never wanted anyone so much in his life. “why don’t you go in to the back room and discuss your business with Johnny?”. Burloni acquiesced and motioned for Johnny to follow. They went past yet another heavy into a back stage area occupied by several half naked dancers who squealed and preened as the mobster sleazed his way past. He patted one or two on the behind and they pretended to enjoy it. It was a comfortable life to be a gangsters moll. They finally came to the end of a corridor and into another surprisingly plush office. Although not as plush as his mothers. Bobby sat down behind the desk and Johnny took the seat opposite. The gangster pushed a fat manila envelope across the desk and Johnny gingerly picked it up. He turned it several times in his hands before he opened it. Inside were a number of black and white photographs. Fireheart felt the bile rise in his throat as he looked upon butchered body after butchered body. He swallowed hard and tried to show no emotion. It was too late to get out. Far too late.
“These photographs were taken in central America. I can’t specify where exactly for.. business reasons. The package my mother wants you to retrieve is somewhere in the jungle. The last team of mercenaries we sent to recover the article are who you see in the photographs. I’ve heard you’re good Fireheart. Well you’re going to have to be. You’re flying tonight.”
Johnny gulped.
To be continued….
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