A day had passed, with no important occurrences. Most of our night was spent on homework, so we had not had much more time for discussion. This day, however, was much more eventful.
The morning was used for preliminary research, as well as a more thorough breakdown of our plans. We had decided that we'd actually split up Jeremy and Tommy, as the former had seemed to be better-suited for field-work than for research. As such, the plan was for Jeremy to see if he could pay a visit to John's pen-pal, in an attempt to see what information he could offer.
Jeremy left at around dinner-time, to ensure that he'd have long enough to talk to this man, as he was unsure of the the coffee shop's hours. In fact, he was not even sure of the name of the place, but he'd assumed that it was not a major corporation. He also didn't know whether this person would be there, but he'd figured that he could leave a note. From what he'd known about the individual, he had liked notes.
Charlie and I sneaked out, at a later time, sometime around nine. Jeremy was still gone, at this time, but we had chosen not to think much of it; he was probably still busy. Anyway, leaving Tommy to the paperwork, we made our way to Trend's Corner.
Slowly, we approached the door, following the line, until we were stopped by a large bouncer. He gave us a quizzical expression, and asked us for our IDs. When we gave them to him, he furrowed his brows.
"These claim that you're both twenty-three." He said, "But you look too young for that."
"We're just short for our age." I claimed.
"Look," the man said, "I'm not saying that that's impossible, but I have to be sure about these things. I'm expressing serious doubts about this, so I'd like you to step aside. Otherwise, I'll get the boss." He said this with an ominous glance, as if getting his boss was the worst imaginable scenario. Of course, Charlie chose to ignore this.
"No." He said, "We need to get inside. I won't accept this discrimination against my height. I'm a person, and so is my friend. Your accusations offend me."
"I'm getting my boss." The doorman replied, with a look of terror upon his face.
"Fine!" Charlie said, "Get your boss! He can verify our age for us!" He knew that this wasn't true, but he was hoping that his statement would make him appear to be determined enough to convince the bouncer to let us in. This did not work.
About a minute later, the bouncer came out, accompanied by a tall, skinny man, wearing a white lounge-suit. Charlie and I did not know what we'd expected the nightclub's owner to look like, but we were certainly not expecting this. The man stared down at us, pushing his small, square sunglasses down his nasal bridge, and said, "Now, who dares to defy the will of the bouncer?" As he said this, his long, black hair blew in the wind. It was straight, outlining his narrow face, which was graced with a long goatee.
"We just need to see someone, sir." I said, gulping.
"If the bouncer doesn't let you in, then you don't get in. Do you understand?"
"But we're just short for our age." Charlie pleaded, "Just look at our cards." The man glanced at them, sneering.
"If this were true, you'd be dwarves." He asserted, "Now, I'm no expert, but I believe that you're a bit too proportionate to be dwarves, don't you? Larry, do they look disproportionate, to you?"
The bouncer shook his head. "No, sir." He said.
"Tell me, then." The boss implored, "What do they look like?"
"They look like children, sir."
The boss guffawed. "Children! Did you hear that? You're children. Now, listen. That means that you're liars; it means that you've faked your IDs. The Trend does not dig liars and fakers, you hear? And do you know what he hates even more? He hates when people refuse to leave. The Trend does not want to take the time, out of his day, to deal with phonies who won't leave. And Larry doesn't like to beat up kids. This means that he can't forcibly remove you. When that happens, he has to run into The Trend's office, harshing his mellow. And The Trend does not like his mellow to be harshed, understand?"
"We just want to see Howard Grady." I stated.
"The Trend does not care that you want to see this person; you still have to leave. This establishment is not for children. Go elsewhere."
Having had enough of this, Charlie tried to fight his way through, but the bouncer through him onto the ground. I managed to get around the doorman, but I was stopped by The Trend, who roughly grabbed my shirt.
"The Trend does not appreciate attempted evasion." He said, "He just wants to run a fun place. Do not make this place less fun."
Charlie tried to get up, but the bouncer blocked him. Meanwhile, The Trend tightened his grip, beginning to strangle me. "Listen." He continued, "This nightclub can be legally-questionable, but it's protected. As long as it follows a certain code, the boys-in-blue don't care; they'll look past some things, so long as we provide for them. But we've gotta respect some ground rules; we've gotta follow The Law of the Nightclub. This means that we must retain a semblance of structure. Hookers and blow are groovy, but we can't have young children bursting our bubble. The cops have to keep kids off the streets, to maintain their good rep'; they can cover up the rest, but that's the one question that they can't dodge. And this establishment wouldn't look so nice, if it were to allow entry to minors. Do you understand? We don't need the cops to shut us down. You've gotta respect The Law of the Nightclub."
"Yeah?" I said, struggling to breathe, "How do the cops feel about murder? Won't they refuse to back you, if you hurt a child?"
"Technically, yes... And The Trend has no intention of hurting you, so long as you cooperate. If not, he can brush this off as an accident." He squeezed me even tighter, and continued. "Now, you don't want there to be any accidents, do you?" Charlie shook his head.
"Good..." The Trend said, letting me go, "Now, get outta here."
I rubbed by neck, for a moment, and said, "No. Just let me see this person. Bring him out here, if you have to."
The Trend reddened, saying, "I don't want to call the authorities. Leave."
Charlie looked baffled. "Did you just say, 'I'?" He asked.
The Trend pointed his gun at the bouncer, and said. "Fine, then I'll just shoot Larry. If he would have been more assertive, we wouldn't be having this problem. He needs to pay for his failure, somehow.If you leave peacefully, I'll just give him the boot. But, if you don't cooperate, I'll put a bullet in his head. It'll be all your fault. You don't want to have a death on your hands, do you?"
"Fine," I said, "I'll leave. Let's go, Charlie." We began to walk away, when we heard the doorman shout.
"No!" He said, "Come back! Help me!"
We turned around, preparing to come back, but it didn't matter. The Trend had shot his employee in the head.
"You were going to kill him, the whole time?" I asked.
"Yes." The Trend said, "I only gave you a choice, so that you would leave. So, go on."
I frowned. "But was that even necessary?" I asked.
"Of course... I can't appear to be weak. If I stage this as a suicide, the cops will just clean it up for me, lacking any evidence. And my employees will fear me, whether or not they can confirm that I was the one who'd pulled the trigger. They will know that they can't leave. They'll fear failure, and they'll fear death. No one has failed me this badly, before, and it won't happen again. The efficiency of my employees will improve, and they'll know that they can't escape. I don't fire people; I fire into them! THE TREND ALWAYS RUNS A PROFITABLE BUSINESS! NOW LEAVE!"
With that, he began to shoot at us, and we quickly ran away.
No comments:
Post a Comment