(Click Here for the Previous Installment)(Click Here for the Next Installment)
I held the phone tight. “Yes?”
“Don’t waste that coin,” the man on the phone said. “There’s a napkin on top of the machine. Take it and ask the guy who gave you the phone for a pen.”
The napkin on top of the machine was smooth, only the edges crimped and unusable for notes. I looked to the man next to me, his blue suitcoat looking rather frayed. “Uh… you have a pen?”
He nodded and revealed a ballpoint from a pocket. I took it and pushed the trigger on the top.
“Shoot,” I said to the man on the phone.
“Write down everything you’ve done up to now exactly. Ask the man with the phone for his number.”
I put the phone on my shoulder and bit my tongue while I scribbled quickly. “What’s this number?” I asked the guy.
“What do I get out of it?”
The man on the phone didn’t miss a beat. “Take him with you to the race track. Give him half the take.”
I looked up at the guy. “I’ll give you half what we’re going to make at the racetrack. Guy on the phone has hot tips.”
He looked at the chips in my hands anodded, taking the pen. He wrote the number on the napkin.
The man on the phone grunted. “Now catch the 8. Buy both you and the other guy a ticket. Put everything on Chocolate Candy.” With a cough, the phone cut off.
I handed the phone back to the guy in the blue suitcoat. “Let’s go down to the tracks.”
***
I held my racehorse bet receipt in my hand tightly. When Chocolate Candy was first past the post, I stood to cheer. It wasn’t an outside bet, didn’t have the worst of odds, but I was going to get a good haul.
The man with the phone jumped up and down exuberantly. “Oh, shit, who was that on my phone? I love that guy!”
I hauled the man with the phone over to the booth, collected our winnings, and started divvying up the take.
No sooner had that happened but the phone rang again. The man answered and gave it to me after just a moment. “It’s for you again.”
I put the phone up to my ear. “Do you have more instructions?”
“Walk out to the Bulb,” the voice said. “Go up to the top of the hill. There will be a man dealing heroine. Approach him but say nothing, no matter what he says. I’ll call back.”
I looked strangely at the phone, the voice gone once more, and gave it back to the unwitting follower. “Come with me,” I said.
We walked up the hill. It was a dry afternoon, and the path was well worn by all the stolen shopping carts people have wheeled up this place. I steered clear of dirty needles and weird homeless people with dirty hair. Even with my pocket full of cash, it wasn’t enough to keep me from ending up here in a couple weeks. Eventually, I saw a person ahead of us on the path, at the top of the hill.
The man with the phone rubs his hands together. “You sure this is what he said to do?”
“Yeah,” I said. I gulped, wondering what was going on. “The guy on the phone said not to talk with the drug dealer. He hasn’t led me astray yet, has he?”
The drug dealer raised his hands, and a smile crept onto his dirty face. He walked right up to my new friend with the phone. “Hey, it’s old Angel Dust Dan!”
I snickered, but Angel Dust Dan didn’t find it so funny. “I don’t know this guy,” he claimed, though his wandering eyes insisted otherwise.
The drug dealer removed a bag from his inner coat pocket. “Sure you do. You know the Snowman. You know what you want.”
The man with the phone looked longingly at the bag. “I’ll say one thing about the crisis – I’ve been clean 8 months. It’s not a good idea to start back up.”
The man jiggled the bag. “And all you have to show for getting clean is a load of failure and you still don’t got no job. Just take a pinch – you like it, man.”
“No.”
The Snowman opened a pocket, but Angel Dust Dan lashed out and took it. The Snowman accepted a fistful of Angel Dust Dan’s cash, allowing my recent companion to take a snort. A big one.
The phone rang. Angel Dust Dan stumbled rather than answering, and the phone kept ringing.
I reached into Dan’s coat and took the phone out. “Hello – I’m here. What do I do next?”
“Walk away. Don’t return the phone. Write everything you’ve done on the napkin.”
I waited, not noticing anything like the click of the phone hanging up. “Who are you?” I asked. “You knew what was going to happen. You knew you were just going to prey on this guy’s addiction-”
“Says the subprime loan lender.” The man on the phone coughed and wheezed. “I know everything about you. You’re going to walk away with the phone. Go north on San Pablo until you see a blind beggar. I’ll call you back.”
Let Me Tell You the Story of... 
It’s getting more and more suspenseful!!
Awesome! 🙂
… 😮