Velvet Elvis by Greg F. Gifune

Author:Greg F. Gifune
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books

Chapter 19

Back in the heat, I headed for Adele’s car, Crash following after me and frantically asking how it went with Remo, what he said, what I said, what was going to happen, were we going to be all right?

“I’m not sure,” I said, stopping at the car as he went around to the passenger side.

“After all that you’re not sure?”

“You know how these things work, man. Never any guarantees, but he said he’d try to put a word in. It’s the best he can do.”

Crash lit a cigarette. “So what do we do now?”

“Hope for the best.”

He exhaled smoke into the night air. “Don’t exactly sound promising.”

I leaned on the car, looked at him over the roof. “I think our best bet right now is to head back to the motel and wait to hear from Remo. Ride it out there with Molly until then.”

He nodded, puffed his cigarette. “Never meant for none of this to happen,” he said. “I was just trying to make us all a few bucks, you know?”

“What’s done is done.”

“Why can’t we ever get a break? Just once, you know? Don’t seem like too much to ask in a man’s life.”

I didn’t know what to tell him. It wasn’t like the universe had conspired to take us down. We’d managed to fuck things up quite effectively on our own. Any blame landed on us, nobody else. “Look,” I said, “let’s just hope we can—”

Before I could finish, someone emerged from the darkness between two nearby cars and closed on Crash quickly, arms locked in a shooter’s stance.

“Don’t move, you piece of shit, don’t you fucking move!”

A man I recognized as Detective Beau Desjardins stepped into the light, his gun to the back of Crash’s head.

That meant someone else had joined us too, I just hadn’t seen him yet.

“Easy does it now.” The cigarette dangling from his lips, Crash slowly raised his hands. “Not moving, boss, not moving at all.”

“Hey, asshole,” someone said from behind me.

Already smirking, I turned and looked directly into the eyes of Mike Ravidovich. “Hiya Mikey, how’s tricks, fuckface?”

Next thing I knew he’d hit me. As my head snapped back I fell against the car, sharp pains shooting from my jaw up into my temples as everything started to whirl and tilt like a carnival ride. I pushed off, looking to throw a counter, but he hit me again before I had the chance.

I didn’t remember that last punch, but it landed.

Because when it did, out went the lights.

Except for vague memories of being in a car and hearing others around me talking but not being able to make out exactly what was being said, the first thing I remembered was the smell of the ocean. I smelled it before I saw it, before I felt it, before the cool breeze blowing off the Atlantic hit me and brought me back around.

The moment I realized I was on my feet, I felt a violent shove, everything went blurry, and I crashed down into the sand.

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