SPA CITY - an action thriller

SPA CITY

“I want a taste of this,” he said as his yellow tongue worked in and out of the gap in his teeth.

“Nope,” Juanita told him. “This is one for the boys.”

He considered her with watery eyes, blinking as if confused.

“I built this family,” he started to say.

“Save it Dad,” Juanita answered before he could get going on a roll. “I know what you’re going to say and the answer I still going to be no.”

“I’ll-,”

“What? You’ll what? Go to the Sheriff? I’m up to date with him. Go to Ricky? You can’t, you burned that bridge a long time ago.”

His trembling hand gripped the head of the Ozark oak cane and the tongue worked around the edges of his thin lip as he tried to think of way to respond.

“You’re my daughter,” he finally settled on a plea halfway between a whine and a growl.

Juanita stood up from the couch and sat the can of beer next to his on the fold out table by his recliner.

“Thanks for the beer,” she said. “Don’t call me at work.”

He watched her walk through the thin screen door, the aluminum frame banging against the pressed metal door jamb of his trailer.

The rumble of her engine filled the driveway and faded as she drove away.

“You hear that?” he aimed his wheezy voice toward the bedroom down the short hall.

The fiberwood pocket door slid open and a man stepped through. He had dark eyes and dark hair, khaki pants and a long white sleeve tee shirt he wore tucked in to accentuate his thin waist.

“I heard,” the man responded as he stepped into the living room and stared through the mesh of the screen, as if his black eyes could track the progress of the truck.

“You get in on it,” the old man huffed. “And you cut me in.”

The man looked over his shoulder at the wreck of the former crime lord in his ratty vinyl recliner.

“You helped me once,” he said. “And you’re helping me still.”

The old man smiled, revealing even more gaps in his yellow teeth.

“Your mother was very special to me,” he answered. “And you deserve better than what she’s offering.”

He nodded toward the screen, past the man standing there.

“She treats you like you’re the fucking janitor, Javier.”

“I am the janitor,” Javier smiled back.

“Yeah, but you get to that plane before she does, and you won’t be cleaning up her shit anymore. You’ll be the boss.”

Javier nodded and turned to stare back through the doorway, his grin even wider.

“Boss,” he thought. “El Jeffe.”

He really liked the way it sounded and the way it made him feel.

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