Lefty

The radio is loud this morning and the cabby doesn't really seem to care or notice the aggravated expression on my face. He's driving horribly like all cabbies do, cussing at cars, mothers, babies, and even blind people. I'm feeling sick. All the noise in the world seems amplified ten times louder. The jackhammer in the nearby street feelings like its having fun in my head.

"Can't you go any faster?" I sort of half-groan.

The cabby ignores me mostly and only sort of replies with a pissed off gesture at the traffic.

I'm getting really nauseous and it is pretty obvious on my face. My cheeks inflate like water balloons, burgeoning, ready to burst with vomit.

"Hey hey, no puking in my car!" warns the cabby.

"Then hurry the fuck up man," I say after I swallow the small bit that had filled my mouth. It is sour and chunky, the eggs and sausage I had for breakfast.

I bury my head in my jacket as the insensitive cabby continues to swerve right and left and honk his god forsaken horn. It is the same pattern over and over again. Nothing moves, then a fast acceleration, then a slamming of the brakes followed by rapid cussing in a foreign language. I'm trying not to get mad. I pull my left arm into my chest. I'm clenching my fist. I have a cast on it today. It is for protection mostly. I'm hurting pretty badly.

I try to control my breathing but, my head is still spinning. I'm still drunk. I close my eyes and try to focus on my plan.

Then the brakes slam suddenly and my head in hitting against the back of the seat. My cast bangs against it. My cheeks swell up and unleash a horrid smelly fury upon the back on the driver. He cusses even louder. But, I sit up and wipe my mouth as I look out the side window. I am where I am supposed to be. The cabby storms out of his cab ready for a confrontation with me angry from the mess I had wrought in his cab. I get out not really feeling in the mood for loud shouting and spouts of angry expletives. I'm just glad I'm finally here. So, I throw a large wad of bills in his face. I didn't count it before hand but, I suppose it was about a grand.

He stops shouting and examines the wad in disbelief then, ultimately gives up his rage and gets back in his cab. I scoff a bit as I make my way to the door of the closest building. Greed always beats anger.

There is a big guy standing by the door beside a shrimpy little fellow. They are dressed discreetly in black suits with sunglasses on. It is cloudy this morning. It is the middle of summer. These two goons are Biggs and Wedge, a bunch of wannabe muscle for the new boss. They always act tough but, I know they are full of shit.

"What's up Lefty?" they say to me. Lefty is my nickname. I'm left handed. There isn't really much else to it but, that fact is the most important thing you should know about me. I pat my cast with my right hand before I respond.

"Not much, boys. I'm just here to see Bosco."

"No no no, Lefty. You can just show up whenever you want and demand to see the boss. He's a busy man. He doesn't take shady guests who just up and appears and disappears whenever he wants."

"Cut the crap Biggs. Let me through," I say as I try to walk pass him.

"You want to start something here?" he says as he blocks my way.

I inhale then exhale...slowly.

"Move out of the way or I will smash your fucking head in with my cast and open the door myself," I say to him as calmly as possible.

Biggs steps back a bit, contemplating the odds of him winning against me. Wedge taps him on the shoulder and pulls him aside shaking his head. Biggs concedes.

"Okay fine fine. No need to get all riled up like that Lefty. We'll let you in to see the boss but, you know there is protocol. We can't just ignore protocol or we'll get our asses lit up. You gotta understand pal."

I nod.

"Whats with the cast?" he says as he begins his inspection.

"Why else? I broke my arm, stupid," I reply frankly.

"Have any weapons hidden in there?"

"Just my arm."

"I should probably check that..." he says as he reaches for my cast.

I jerk back. "Fuck off gorilla boy. What am I gonna do? Stab Bosco with a shard of my bone? We both know he's got plenty of firepower waiting."

"Whoa there. You don't have to be so hostile, Lefty. I'm just doing my job," he replies rather authentically offended.

"Sorry. It has just been a bad week. I really need to see Bosco NOW."

"In just a moment, pal. I'm almost done," he says as he pats down my legs.

He stands back up and strangely begins to start conversation. I get the feeling I knew what he was going to say and he does.

"So, I, uh, heard the news in the paper this morning..."

"Shut up."

"What?"

I put my right hand against his chest and stare him down. Wedge jumps forward but, decides against getting physical with me.

"Just shut up."

He nods. "Okay, okay, pal, just chill out okay?"

He lets me pass.

I walk down the long hallway without much more confrontations. There isn't much need for muscle in here as the multitude of cameras line the walls following my every move. I'm sobering up quite well now. My footsteps feel steady even though my heart is racing. I'm aching to see Bosco.

Finally, I reach the ostentatious black metal double doors at the end of the hallway. A monitor is located at the side wall and a face appears. It's Bosco with his purple pinstriped suit and black gelled hair. He sitting patiently at his desk with a large devious grin.

"I've been waiting for you, Eddie." says his voice from the intercom.

"Have you?"

"I watch the news every night. I knew you would come today."

"Then open the fucking doors already."

He laughs and then nods. "Surely, old friend."

The doors open as the sound of mechanical gears begin to turn. They sound heavy and are undoubtedly bulletproof. Bosco is a careful man.

I walk through the doors ready to resolve things with him. My left arm is aching and antsy and the smell of death is still stuck in my nose. Today, I would finally be able to escape the other night. Today, I can finally die.