Read Flutter Online

Authors: L. E. Green

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery, #Retail, #Science Fiction, #Suspense, #Thriller

Flutter (5 page)

BOOK: Flutter
11.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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Frankie looked at Roger and said, “Rog, I’m taking the trash out back.”

“Yup!” Roger yelled across the room.

Frankie left Roger and Larry in the bar. It was about midnight, and all of the patrons had left. It was time for a serious cleaning for the next day. Frankie began the clean up by carrying the overflow of trash to the dumpsters in the back alley. Some of the bags were very heavy and half torn. They leaked a smelly trail of mashed food and beer from the kitchen to the back door. He knew he would have to give the floor a thorough mopping later. Frankie tossed bag after bag from the door to the dumpster, trying his best not to get wet but needed to make sure that the bags landed in the bin. He paused for a moment when he saw two bare feet on the other side of the bin. Frankie questioned the accuracy of his aging eyes. He cleared his eyes and was sure there was a person back there. She coughed and Frankie was startled.

“Oh shit. Holy Mother…” He put his hand over his chest as if he was about to have a heart attack. He looked closer. “Hey! Hey!” The rain pounded against the pavement, muffling the sound of his call.

There was no answer. He tilted his head to see if he could get a better look at the figure scrunched tightly into the sticky corner. He couldn’t see and knew he had no choice but to step out into the rain for a better look. He looked up as if to curse the rain. He stepped out into the alley and went over slowly. Frankie was instantly soaked and freezing from the water bouncing off his skin and soaking into his tank top. He saw a frail looking Abigail shivering in the corner attempting to hide under torn plastic and paper bags. He lightly jogged over.

“HEY! You okay? Can you hear me?” 

She barely raised her eyes. 

Frankie yelled, “You gotta get out of this rain.”

Frankie spotted a trail of blood streaming away from her body. With the rain splashing into it, a red stream ran down a cement crack and underneath the dumpster. She was losing a lot of blood. Frankie pulled back the bags of trash and noticed a bullet wound in her shoulder and thigh. In addition, she had a bruise on her forehead. Her shirt and pants were soaked with blood around the wounds. She was too weak to stop him from touching her. Abigail knew she needed help and had to trust her instincts that this was her last chance to get it. She didn’t have one speck of energy to resist and she had no clue where she was or what was going on. 

“Oh shit. You’ve been shot!” Frankie carried her inside and upstairs through a door where no one would see her. Above the bar was kind of an apartment consisting of an open space, two rooms and a bathroom with a toilet and shower. It was where Frankie stayed. Frankie carried Abigail to a small room with a twin sized bed and laid her down. He didn’t tell Roger or Larry what he was up to. He would tell them in the morning. He didn’t want to hear Roger’s jokes or Larry’s complaints.

He asked, “Little girl, what are you into?”

Abigail was too weak to respond. She tried to speak but her lips resorted to a rapid quiver. Everything she tried to say sounded muffled. Her heart was palpitating and her limbs were burning as the blood attempted to flow back into her extremities. Her arms and legs were completely cramped. Her feet were blistered and bruised. Frankie quickly stripped Abigail down to her underwear. He hadn’t seen a young woman’s body in a long time, but he was not thinking along those lines. Her skin was smooth and pale; her veins were visible under her skin. Frankie was nervous but he had to do something about the wounds. By this time, Abigail had passed out from exhaustion. 

The wound in her shoulder wasn’t a big deal. The bullet had grazed her shoulder and was out of her body. Frankie cleaned the wound, took some floss and sewed it back together with a few stitches. He had some experience in dressing wounds from his participation in illegal activities in the past. Frankie had removed about 50 bullets from bodies in his lifetime, but it had been a while since he practiced his skill. The bullet in her thigh was a little deeper than he would have liked, but he removed it with ease. She had lost a lot of blood, but she was a good patient. She laid still and allowed Frankie to do what he needed to do without much movement or resistance. Frankie didn’t want to have a naked bloody girl anywhere near his establishment, but something made him feel like she would be ok. He had seen worse and felt bad about leaving her there.

“I have to take the underwear off you, girly. I’m not a perv ok? But you need to get warm as fast as possible and all your clothes are soaked.” Abigail was out for the count. Her flesh was turning pink again, but not fast enough. Frankie covered her in a blanket before he pulled her underwear down. He reached behind her and unstrapped her bra.
I can still do this without looking.
He placed her underwear on rail of the bed. He ran into his room and grabbed a plaid comforter and a pair of clean socks. He placed the socks on her feet and covered Abigail and tucked her in for the night.

Frankie was completely distraught. He was shaking and second guessed his decision to let this girl stay upstairs. This was sneaky and scary. He didn’t want any trouble and he felt like she would be just the reason to bring drama that he wanted to avoid. Frankie left her room and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He quickly downed it; then he took another. Anyone else would have called the police and reported the victim but the last thing Frankie needed was an investigation and cops snooping around his pub or the alleys that surrounded the place.

 

The basement of Frankie’s pub was the site of an underground fight club. Frankie started the club as a means to settle occasional bar fights that would ensue after the guys had a few drinks too many. Some of Frankie’s most faithful patrons were also participants in the club. Most people knew what was going on, but as long as Frankie paid his debts and followed the rules, he was allowed to keep going. The club had about 20 regulars from various walks of life. Some were teachers, others were police and firefighters. One man was a minister at the Baptist church up the block. 

The basement had a padded wall on the far side. It was large enough that Frankie and Roger had installed a set of bleachers. The ring was sectioned off by gray mats Frankie picked up from the YMCA before it did a massive renovation a few years back. The mats were stained with blood from years of scuffing and fighting. Frankie padded the ceiling with additional insulation to muffle cheers and painful grunts. He didn’t want people to hear anything upstairs. He also made an escape hatch that lead directly to the back alley where he had found Abby. 

Frankie had made his money fighting and also skimmed 5% off the top of the winning bets made on the big bet days. The club was open two days a week and the days alternated depending on the week of the month. The first week of the month fighting happened on Mondays and Wednesdays. The second week of the month fighting only occurred on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The third week of the month, they only fought on Tuesdays and Fridays. Big bet nights were reserved for the fourth Saturday of the month. All bets had to be finalized by noon on Saturday. No betting was allowed on the floor and no bets under $100. Frankie’s friend Larry handled the bets. Larry often helped run the bar as well. They alternated the fight nights to throw off anyone looking to cause trouble.

One night incumbent Mayor Cusher came into the bar. He was trying to appear more people friendly than how his image was being portrayed in the media. His first term as mayor was ending, and he was campaigning for reelection. He walked in with his campaign manager and other constituents. 

“Are you Frankie?” the mayor asked.

Frankie wiped his hand on a towel and reached out to shake the mayor’s hand. “Yeah that’s me. This is my place. Been here for 10 years this May.” Frankie was skeptical.

“I’m Mayor Cusher. I hear good things about you.” He smiled.

“Thanks. Can’t say the same for you though,” Frankie said with a smirk on his face. 

They all laughed.

“Listen, Frankie. It’s no secret I’m running for a second term. I want to know what you need as a local business owner; it is someone like me who has the ability to make things happen. I have the ability to do a lot of things that could help your business be a bit more successful.”

“I need a damn tax break!” Frankie joked.

“You can get one. You are a local business and you employ citizens of this city.” 

Frankie nodded his head and folded his arms.

The mayor continued, “Ok how about this. When is your entertainment and liquor license up?”

“In December. I’ve been trying to get the process started but I’ve been getting the run around from the licensing commission.”

“Say no more.” The mayor cheerfully patted Frankie on the shoulder. “Post a couple signs in your window for me. Talk to your people, and I’ll take care of that license for you.”

Frankie’s face lit up with delight. He responded, “You got it! Have a scotch.”

By the end of the night, Mayor Cusher was drunk and fighting in the basement rink. He lost the fight but was extremely pleased with the hospitality he received from the men in the pub. He won the election and celebrated with a “THANK YOU” banquet at Frankie’s Pub aired live by 14 News. One of the first things Mayor Cusher did was extend Frankie’s liquor license for another five years free of charge. He also forgave a few parking tickets and covered some other business for Frankie. Frankie and Cusher remained friends to this day.

 

Frankie’s fight club was the best networking space in the city. It was a great little money maker and was fun. He made a lot of friends because of this place and was not about to lose it over any additional drama that a young injured woman could bring to his pub. He didn’t know anything about her. He didn’t know if someone left her there or followed her. He figured that someone must have wanted her dead, but whom? His head began to hurt with the influx of thoughts and questions that muddled through his mind. Frankie took another shot. 

Roger and Larry were still downstairs cleaning the bar. Frankie almost forgot about them. He changed his shirt, which was now covered in rain water and blood, before he went back down. Roger noticed something wasn’t right with Frankie’s mood when he reappeared. He had worked long enough with Frankie to know when trouble was in the air. He walked over to Frankie.

Roger asked, “You ok, old man?”

“Go home, Roger. You too, Larry. Come in early tomorrow. We’ll talk then.” Frankie scratched his forehead trying to think of what he should do.

Larry was concerned as well and asked, “Are you sure? You don’t look good right now.”

Frankie grabbed the mop, “I’m fine. I’ll finish up here. Just go on home and we’ll chat in the morning about everything, but I’ll need you both to be completely discrete.”

Roger grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. Larry followed. Frankie took another shot, turned out the lights and went upstairs to the upper level apartment.
This is gonna be bad.

THE NEXT DAY

The sun beamed over the window sill, gently warming Abigail’s face. It woke her. The flesh of her cheek was rosy again, a drastic difference from the previous night’s experience with hypothermia. She could feel her toes again, but the pain in her shoulder and thigh was not subtle. She felt an ache that crawled up her left side, making her bend her body to adjust to it. She stretched. The pain in her body was a sharp throb that intensified with the slightest movement. She realized she was totally naked underneath the shaggy blanket and immediately became anxious. The world around her was blurry and unfamiliar. She saw a figure moving and decided to lie still until she could be sure what it was and if she was safe enough to admit she was awake. Soon her sleepy eyes cleared enough for her to notice what she saw before her was the back of a young man. Things still were not fully clear. This was the first time she ever saw Roger. He was placing a tray of food on a table. The tray had a thick turkey sandwich, bottled water, an orange and a bag of chips. Roger turned around. He noticed her eyes had opened ever so slightly.

“You ok? I’m Roger. What’s your name?”

Abigail was a little disoriented. Keeping her eyes fixed on Roger, she tried to get up but she was weaker than she had thought. She grunted from pain shooting through her body.

Roger sat on the edge of the bed. Abigail wanted to move away but her body was too weak. He said, “Hey hey home girl. Relax.” He gently patted her on the leg, “You’ve been asleep for about a day and you still seem tired. Get some rest and then some food. I left a sandwich over there. You need to eat. I’m gonna leave a buzzer right here. If you need me you hit it. It will vibrate in my pocket and I will come up ASAP! And, since you don’t seem to have a name, I’m gonna call you Elvis. That’s my fish’s name and you resemble her.” Roger smiled. Abigail didn’t find his joke funny. “Seriously, you’re in a good place. It’s safe here. Frankie’s a good man. He’s cool. He’ll take care of you. Just rest and we’ll sort everything out when you’re feeling better.” He smiled again and said “You really do look like Elvis.” Roger laughed. He got up, walked out and shut the door. Abigail tilted her head back. It sank slowly into the warm pillow. The lights fade out when she closed her eyes. She couldn’t get enough sleep. Her body needed to heal and only rest would suffice.

Roger, Larry and Frankie had a few regulars come into the pub that day. Today was meatloaf day for anyone who wanted to eat. Frankie kept his menu simple by only cooking one type of food on each day. Monday was corned beef and cabbage day. Tuesday, Frankie served burgers and fries. Wednesday was buffalo wing day. Thursday they served baked chicken and rice. Friday was meatloaf and mashed potato day. No need to guess that today was Friday. Frankie and Roger served about 50 dinners that night and endless rounds of beer. Frankie felt like Abigail came at a perfect time. He had been thinking about hiring someone else to help around the pub and her extra hand of help was perfect. Roger worked really hard but couldn’t manage the floor alone and Roger never took a day off. Larry would come in and help from time to time, but Larry’s main job was to manage the fight club while Frankie kept the bar running upstairs. Frankie thought many times that he would close the fight club, but the money he made supplemented a lot of his overhead and he got a lot of side favors by running it.
Maybe I’ll give it a few more months.
He said that to himself every few months.

BOOK: Flutter
11.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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