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Description
COLD TOWN:
DEAD MEN CAN TELL TALES

BURNS…

Prohibition Era.  You read all about stuff like that in the history books, but you never think it’s gonna apply to your time.  But here we were… right smack in the middle of one.
It started pretty much the same way:  A popular vice is deemed practically harmless by the high-ups in government until the “wrong people” become addicted to it.  Then, the ever-paranoid upper-class pushes the panic button and some pompous bastard in Congress passes the big law, making it illegal.  Forgetting the old saying about history repeating itself, the same pompous bastard doesn’t realize he’s just shot organized crime up one hundred and twenty percent.  While things are still all peachy pie with the upper-crust, all hell breaks loose on my side of the food chain.
Oh, by the way, you can call me Burns.  That’s my last name.  My first name’s of little consequence, so like I said… just call me Burns.  I’m a delivery man for the Java House, a toilet of a nightclub owned this overfed underworld kingpin named Lenny Java.  Actually, let me correct myself:  I was a delivery man for his club.  I’ll get to that part soon.
I delivered Cold, the so-called “Booze of the Century” and the subject of controversy for this whole Prohibition thing.  Cold’s this liquor invented by some alcoholic genius in Austria.  It’s smooth goin’ down and gives you a steady buzz faster than any other spirit, but doesn’t make you regret it nearly as much in the morning.  The downside:  The stuff’s more addictive than most hardcore drugs.  Personally, I’m a whiskey man and never bothered with any other poison.
So anyway, Cold was flown into Canada from Austria, and it was my job to meet with Java’s undercover man near the border.  Cold would be loaded into my truck disguised as something different every time; sometimes vodka, sometimes clear rum, and sometimes just plain old bottled water (given the condition of the Northeast River, a lot of people in Ambrose drank bottled water).  I’d give the man a suitcase full of dead presidents courtesy of Mr. Java, and then transport the Cold to the Java House in order to make my own bucks… nothing quite as substantial as what the border guy was getting.
But there were other perks.  Once I dropped off the shipment in the back, I got to go up front for a few complimentary shots and, better yet, I got to see Miracle, Java’s brunette goddess of a bartender.  What an angel like that was doing in that pit of Hell I still haven’t figured out.  I guess I should have asked her on that first date.
I remember that smile she gave me when I walked in the night of my final delivery to the Java House.  Those pearly whites sparkled in that dim-lit, smoke-filled room.  I plopped my ass down on one of the stools and before I even asked, she poured me two shots of Classy Fred’s, pretty decent brand of whiskey to be sold in this part of town.  Not surprisingly, I was probably the only guy in the place who ever drank the stuff.  It was all about the Cold with everyone else.  I wondered if any of the younger patrons even knew what it was like to get piss-drunk the old fashioned way.
What the hell ever.  Useless thing to wonder about.
“How’s my little Miracle tonight?”  I asked before downin’ that first shot.
“Pissed.  Disgusted.  Head poundin’ like a mother fucker,” she sighed with a hint of humor in her woe.  “Same as usual when I’m workin’.”  She then smiled again and put her soft, chilly hands in mine.  “Thanks for taking me out last night.  I needed that.”
“Yeah, me too.”  If only she knew how much I meant that.  Damn, how long had it been since I had been out with a real woman with a real mind of her own.  “You wanna do it again?”
“Yeah, sure.  When you up for it?”
“Tonight?”
“Can’t tonight.”  Miracle groaned, and it didn’t take a half-cracked genius to know just who she was groanin’ about.  “Lenny’s all hot-headed about Cherry Bella movin’ in on his territory with that new club of hers.”
“Cherry Bella?”  I almost spit out that second shot.  “Now, I don’t know her personally, but I know she wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull that shit.”
“Well, technically her club’s just outside Lenny’s jurisdiction, and it ain’t stupidity… it’s spite after that little incident at the Marcello Wedding.”
“If you ask me, all these Big-Timers need to grow the fuck up.”  Miracle and I shared that common bond.  We associated ourselves with murderers and thieves because it was an easy way to make money… not cuz we found any glamour and intellect in it all.
“Anyway,” said Miracle as she poured me another shot.  “Lenny wants everybody here to do some serious overtime.”  She then rubbed my cheek, which gave me a nice case of the tingles… all over the place.  “But I’m off tomorrow night.”  She winked at me, and was about to make some impatient douche a “Cold Tropical” when she turned back and tossed me a folded piece of paper.
“Almost forgot about this,” she said.  “Jo-Bo over there by the stage wanted me to give it to ya.”  I gave a nod of gratitude, but wondered what the hell a twitchy part-time stooge like Jo-Bo Baggs wanted with me.
Meet me by Sadie’s Subs in an hour.  Big chance to make a wad of cash.
That’s what the note said.  I peeked over towards the stage where some saucy new, fiery-haired dancer named Inferna was jigglin’ her tits for the droolin’ dogs below her.  Jo-Bo was the puppy in the middle, shovin’ another Mr. Washington in her thong.  Shortly after I turned my attention toward him, he followed suit.  He gave me a slight wave, tryin’ to be inconspicuous I guess.  No offense to the poor little fella, but I don’t think anyone gave a damn about what he was doin’.
But then here came that asshole Bobby T., Lenny Java’s pretty boy.  I’ve nearly had wet dreams about bashing his skull in with a lead pipe.  On his way over to the bar, he smacked Jo-Bo across the back of the head.
“Hey Jo-Bo, heard ya got some last night,” he said in a voice that made you want to strangle him and everybody else that sounded like him.  “You’re hand not fall asleep on ya or somethin’?”
Jo-Bo didn’t say a word as Bobby strutted his way over.
Yeah, pal.  I thought.  Come over here and slap me in the back of the noggin’.  But Bobby was an educated man (believe it or not, most of Java’s gang were).  Bobby knew better than to fire off a loose cannon like me.
“Evenin’, Burns,” as he waved Miracle over to make his usual; a Cold Lemon on the rocks.  “Delivery go well?”
“I got here on time, didn’t I?” I said.  In other words, Bobby, fuck your small talk.
“You know, Burns, I think you’re a good delivery man… damn good delivery man,” said Bobby before takin’ his first sip.  “Mr. Java thinks you’re a good one too.”
“Yeah?”  I think he could see that I could have given a rat’s ass about the compliment.
“But the fact is that’s all you are to us… a good delivery man.  You’ll never be anything else in this business.  You’ll never reach that next level, grab that brass banana in the tree, and you know why?  Because as a human being, you’re…”
“Worthless?  Pathetic?  Shit?” I whispered.  “I’ve heard this speech before.”
“Then do us all a favor, and quit walkin’ in here like you own the place, and quit flirtin’ with Miracle while she’s workin’ the Cold.”
“I think I can make that call,” said Miracle.  Another common bond:  Neither of us let slick-haired badgers like Bobby T. intimidate us.
“Hey!”  Bobby T. tried anyway.  “Shut your mouth and get me another drink, bi…”
No.  Ain’t happenin’.  I grabbed the finger Bobby had pointed in my lady’s face and forced it back down to the bar.  I could have broken it if I wanted to.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I said.  I would call that a threat… but most threats are idle.  But I decided to let go when Java’s muscle head Aries showed up.  Don’t get me wrong:  I ain’t afraid of him either.  What I was afraid of was Miracle getting caught in a scuffle.  If she had gotten hurt because of my temper, I could never have forgiven myself.
“Fuck you, Burns!” sneered Bobby, and he and Aries made their way back to Java’s office.  “You better hope Mr. Java doesn’t fire you because of this… because then you’re mine… you’re fuckin’ mine!”  Like I said… threats are idle.
Once he and the big guy were gone, I peeked over to see that Jo-Bo was long gone.
“Ah, fuck it,” I said to myself.  “I’ll go to Sadie’s and see what’s on the little fella’s mind.”

When I showed up, Jo-Bo was chomping on a Sadie Special; turkey, ham, pastrami, and heavy on the mayo.  The smell of it made me sick to my stomach.
“You wanna sandwich, buddy?” he asked.  I guess he was just trying to make friends.  Poor guy didn’t have too many.
“No thanks,” I said.  “I ain’t that hungry.”  Then, it was down to business.  “So what’s this big money opportunity you wrote me about?”
Jo-Bo polished off the sandwich as wiped his mouth with his hand.
“You tired of working for Lenny Java?”  His mouth was still full and I could barely make out what he said.
“In know you are.”  I said with a hint of pity in my voice.  “Those guys give you a lot of shit, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but you and your bartender friend don’t.  You both have been real straight up with me, so I want you in on this.  I told Cherry Bella all about you.”
“Cherry Bella?”
Whoever said curiosity killed the cat definitely wasn’t talkin’ out his ass.  Five minutes later, Jo-Bo had fully convinced me to ride with him to the Aphrodite Arms over in a big gamblin’ district called The Brights… Cherry Bella’s part of town.

The Aphrodite Arms stood over the Brights like some kind of angry giant, and Bella’s suite was right at the top.  If your ears stopped up easily due to altitude, you weren’t going to be too cozy up there.  Personally, it didn’t bother me, and I know it damn sure didn’t bother Jo-Bo.  After all, he was going to be drinking top-rate liquor in a room full of beautiful women.
Bella’s gang was called the Broken Hearts, and it was nothin’ but ladies.  From what I heard, a lot of dumb mugs have paid for underestimating the Hearts because of their collective gender… sometimes with money, sometimes with blood.  I ain’t a dumb mug, and besides, it was 2055.
We were met at the door by K.C. and Kristi, a pair of twins who on the outside seemed like two smiling sweethearts, daddy’s little girls.  But inside their pretty heads was the knowledge to kill anyone who crossed them in any number of ways.  I once heard about some goon who was bold enough to flash a blade at them.  Before he could even take a swing at one of them, the other had broken his neck and severed his spine in one swift flinch.  Don’t ask me how.  I ain’t a martial arts expert.
“You Burns?” smiled Kristi.
“Yep,” I said.
“You Jo-Bo?” smiled K.C.
“Yes ma’am,” blushed Jo-Bo.
Kristi and K.C. wore the same sky blue dress suits, but you could tell’em apart by their hair color:  Kristi’s was bleached white, K.C.’s jet black.
“C’mon in,” they said in unison.  I was worried Jo-Bo was gonna embarrass himself once we walked in to see all of Bella’s beauties; blondes, brunettes, red-heads, Hispanic, Asian, black, white… one hell of a variety.  Bella outshined’em all though; long blonde hair, voluptuous, dressed in this real elegant green evening gown.  She sat at a black marble table in the center of the room with her right-hand woman Addie at her side.
“Evening, gentlemen, thanks for coming,” she said with a warm, but professional greetin’, kind of like sayin’ I can be nice, but cross me the wrong way and I can be a royal… well, you know.  “I know you both are taking a big risk even showing up here, but I will make it worth your while.”  I assumed by this she meant the pay-off.  Judgin’ by the look in Jo-Bo’s eyes, he assumed somethin’ else.
Cherry Bella had Addie show us an artist’s conception of her soon-to-be-opened night club.
“This, gentlemen, is the Cruel Kitty,” she said.  “This place has been my dream long before I got into this business.  Now that it’s finally going to be realized, I’m pulling out all the stops to make the opening night a successful one… and that includes complimentary Colds.”
“Java’s not gonna be too happy about that,” I said.  And I’m sure she could tell from the lack of sincerity in my voice that I would be the last to tell that fat bastard.
“Oh, I know he won’t.”  Bella grinned like the devil himself.  “Just like he won’t be too happy when his next shipment of Cold doesn’t arrive at the Java House.”
I fuckin’ knew it.  The whole underworld seemed to revolve around that stuff.  And I knew I was in a tricky position; either agree to make the delivery and risk the wrath of Lenny Java, or say “no” and risk not leaving this room alive.  Cherry Bella might have been a hell of a lot prettier than Java, but she was just as ruthless.  So I made my choice.
“Okay,” I said.  “Just give me the who, what, when, where… and most importantly, how much.”
“Two deliveries, that’s all I ask,” said Bella.  “I can handle it from there.  First delivery… you get half a million.  Second one… well, let’s see how you do on the first one.  Jo-Bo and my informant Inferna will give you the rest of the details.”
Inferna… the dancer at the Java House.  I guess Jo-Bo was a whole lot more interested in here than I thought.
“Sounds like you got all the angles covered,” I said, tryin’ my hardest to convince myself that I was right.
“Always do,” winked Bella.  “Well, that’s it for business.  Feel free to leave or stay and socialize.  Remember, when you’re on my good side, you’re on their good side.”
I really didn’t want to stick around, but I didn’t have the heart to rob Jo-Bo of an opportunity to get laid.

The delivery started off the way it always did.  I met the man at the border, we loaded up the truck with the Cold (this time in lemon-lime soda bottles), I paid him, and was then on my way back to Ambrose.  From there, I took the “detour”, all based on the information Inferna relayed on my cell shortly before the pick-up:
Who; Sami, cute little lady with short, brown hair… Cherry Bella’s personal driver.
What; a delivery truck from Bella’s business front, “Super Cone Ice Cream.”
When; 10pm, a half hour before I was supposed to arrive at the Java House.
Where; The Sweet Walk, a strip just outside of Java’s jurisdiction, close to the Cruel Kitty.
While I was with Sami, Jo-Bo was over at the Java House going on to Lenny and his gang about how the Cold was held up by a third-rate Russian crime boss named Pozkowski.  By the time the Devil’s Seven were ready to move in on the unknowing mug, I’d arrive with the empty truck to confirm Jo-Bo’s story.  If we played our cards right, Lenny would be a hell of a lot angrier with Pozkowski then me.  Plus, I think some additional sugar talk from Inferna would help too.  The plan worked… the first night anyway.  Now, I had to wait three days before the next delivery.

Lenny bought the story, but Bobby T. had those suspicious eyes blazin’ the next night when I walked in to pick up Miracle.  Java interrupted her day off when he fired one of the other bartenders.  Fortunately, he found some dead beat relative to replace the one he canned, and Miracle got to leave early.
I saw Bobby and that vermin Leach over by the pool table, both staring me down, before Miracle arrived and greeted me with an embrace and a peck on the cheek.  That almost made me forget about those assholes… until they made their way over.
“Big date tonight, huh Burnsy?” screeched Leach… like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yep,” I said.  There’s that damn small talk again.
“Have fun,” nodded Bobby, who then turned to Miracle.  “But don’t let him screw you over the way he did Mr. Java.”
“Pozkowski screwed him over, not me.”  For once, I didn’t blame Bobby for being a dick.  I would have trouble believing that lie.
“Bullshit,” said Bobby.
“Bullshit, haha!” added Leach.
“Pozkowski’s gang isn’t even in our league.  He wouldn’t dare try to pull a move like that on us.”
“Well, I know he won’t anymore,” I said.  “I heard he took a little trip to the docks last night.”
“Never hurts to be cautious,” chuckled Bobby.  Leach laughed with him before makin’ a goofy splashin’ sound, not that Pozkowski’s fate wasn’t overly obvious already.
“That’s the Devil’s Seven’s business, not mine,” I said.  “Now unless you have anything else to run your mouth about…”
“No,” shrugged Bobby, who then got right in my face.  “Just know that next time, it will be in your best interest that the Cold arrives here and on time.”
I just turned around, and Miracle and I walked out of that dump.
And damn it, I should have known that Bobby had convinced his boss to hire the Gnome to follow us.  Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so quick to accept the invitation to Cherry Bella’s pre-grand opening party at the Cruel Kitty.

Even tough it wasn’t open to the public yet, the Cruel Kitty was at full swing that night.  The place was what Lenny Java always wanted the Java House to be, but didn’t have the creative savvy to realize that little fantasy.  There was high-stakes gambling and even higher quality women… and Miracle must have told me four or five times how much she would love to run a real bar like Bella’s.  Cherry seemed interested when I mentioned it to her in passing.  It would be nice to see Miracle out of that hellhole and somewhere where she might be happy.
Jo-Bo was there too, tryin’ to make a play with the ladies, and thanks to a good word from Cherry Bella, he was actually succeeding.  The Gnome, a freelance photographer who took “revealing pictures” for rich paranoids like Java, was somewhere in there too, takin’ any shot of me or Jo-Bo with Bella.  He was called the Gnome because that’s what he looked like; short, bald, hefty fella with a long, red beard.  If he didn’t get a job as a camera-carryin’ spy, he’d be standing in some old lady’s front yard (I know… bad joke).  How a man that stood out like he did managed to sneak his way around in hostile territory like the Cruel Kitty was his little secret.

While Jo-Bo was getting his rocks off in one of the Cruel Kitty’s back rooms, I was kissing Miracle good night.  Maybe one day we’d take the next step, but for right then, it just felt nice to be loved by somebody.

The night of the third delivery came, and while I wasn’t nervous, I was cautious.  The first thing I did was tell Jo-Bo to stay in his apartment, out of sight and out of trouble.  The second thing was to pack some extra heat.  I always carried a Magnum Blaster under my jacket.  In Ambrose, a delivery man would be a moron to be unarmed.  Tonight, I added a Chain Rifle to my little “mobile arsenal”.  Those babies might be a bit bulky, but they were fast when you needed them to be.  Finally, I took an alternate route to the border… just in case Bobby T. or one of Java’s other pals decided to follow me.  There were some places even that scum didn’t want to drive through.
The delivery itself went pretty much like last time, only I met Sami in a different place; a 24/7 diner called the Dirty Fork.  She took it to Cherry Bella at the Cruel Kitty, and I showed up an hour later to pick up Jo-Bo’s and my pay-off; a cool million each.
That night, I planned to get Miracle, get a full tank of gas, and leave Lenny Java, Cherry Bella, and this whole stinkin’ town forever.  Then, shortly after I arrived at Jo-Bo’s, everything started goin’ to Hell.
I got outta there the second I saw Hoax and Leach drag Jo-Bo to their car.  Some folks might think me a total prick for keepin’ Jo-Bo’s cut, but I think it was a damn good confirmation that the poor guy wasn’t gonna need it.  Anyway, I stopped at Miracle’s place, told her the story, waited for her to pack her bags, and we were on our way out.
I thought we were safe once we were outside the city, and checked into a motel.  What I didn’t count on was that Java’s wrath knew no jurisdiction.
“I’d like to marry ya,” I told Miracle.  I guess I wasn’t one for elegant proposals.  I bought her a real nice ring while she was gettin’ carry-out.  I didn’t wait for some magical moment.  I just sat down by her on that uncomfortable motel bed and popped the question.
“Really, you wanna do this?” said Miracle with a whole lot of nervous in her voice.  She had a big smile on her face though.
“Yeah,” I shrugged, startin’ to get just as nervous.  “I mean, we’ve got plenty of money now, and we’re leavin’ to start a new life together anyway.  May as well make it legal.”  Miracle leaned over and kissed me.
“I guess if you put it that way, yeah I’ll marry ya.”
That should have been the greatest moment of my whole wasted life, but right after Miracle said yes, she was taken from me, shot to death by Bobby T.’s Tommy-27.  When that son of a bitch walked through the now shattered window, I jumped on him and proceeded to choke his own life out of him.  But I should have known he’d bring Aries along.  That fuckin’ ape grabbed me and rammed his knee into my back, damn near breakin’ it.  He then held me while Bobby punched me over and over again, wearin’ gloves to protect his perfect hands.  I held out as long as I could, but after one too many hits, I was out like a ghetto streetlight.
When I woke up, I was at the docks.  Hoax was on my left, Leach was on my right, and in front of me were Bobby T., Aries, and  Lenny Java… holding the cash-stuffed suitcases that Cherry Bella gave me.  I guess this was what Jo-Bo was going through before he bit the blaster… or however the poor schmuck died.
“You know, Jo-Bo came real close to tellin’ me what I needed to know,” said Lenny.  “But it turned out somebody else cared enough about him to kill him.”
“Sucks for you,” I moaned.  At that point, the only thing I had left to live for was killin’ Bobby… and it didn’t look like that was gonna happen… so fuck it.
“No, goof,” smirked Java.  “It sucks for you, just like it sucked for that pretty little bartender.  If Jo-Bo had talked, that might have given you some extra time to escape your fate.  But now, you got two choices; talk… or die.  Who else was workin’ this little plan with you and Jo-Bo?  Who’s the mole?”
“Fuck you, Java!” I screamed, as loud as possible with a mouth full of blood.  “Just end it!”
“You donkey-dumb bastard,” said Java.  “If I hadn’t sent Lowman out on a job, I’d have him torture you nice and slow.”
“I’ll do it, boss!” screeched Leach.  “I know all kinds of ways to make him squeeeeeeeal!”
“It won’t matter,” I said.  “I ain’t gonna talk… so just quit wastin’ mine and your time and end it already!”
Lenny stared me down for a minute with the soulless eyes, then nodded.
“Yeah,” he sighed.  “Alright… I guess you’re useless.  Hoax, Leach… dump him.”
“Oh no,” laughed Bobby T.  I should have seen this one comin’.  “He’s mine!”  Bobby then removed my own Magnum Blaster from his jacket.  What a douche bag.  With Lenny’s nod of approval, Bobby put the gun to my head.  His eyes widened with some combination of rage and delight.
“I’m gonna enjoy this even more than I enjoyed offing your bitch of a girlfriend,” he whispered.  I closed my eyes, as if to say a futile prayer.  But I never felt the shot.  I opened my eyes to see Bobby T. with a gun to his own head.  The weapon belonged to Cherry Bella.  Before Hoax and Leach could react, Kristi and K.C. had’em by the neck.  They may have been nuts, but they knew that any sudden movement and those lovely ladies would snap’em like twigs.  Aries had his own problem with an Amazon named Hunter, who actually had a more impressive build than he did.
“The Cruel Kitty was my dream, Java,” said Bella.  “You crossed the line, and now you’ve started a war.”
“It’s real simple, Cherry,” snickered Java, trying to play it cocky.  “You took my Cold, so I turned up the heat.”
“Two shipments weren’t worth what you did, so we are far from even.”  She then glanced over at me, and then back to the pig.  “For now, I suggest you and your gang get lost.  There’s more of my ladies in the area, and anything you try to pull…”
“Alright, damn it!” yelled Java.  “We’re outta here!”  Before he walked away, Bobby gave me that look he gave me so many times before… the “I’ll get ya later” look.  I was counting on that.
“Help him up, Hunter,” said Cherry.  For a big gal, Hunter was pretty gentle (and actually quite beautiful for a behemoth).  Bella then handed me the money, but I just handed it right back to her.
“No thanks,” I said.  “I don’t need it anymore.  I’ve got nobody to spend it on.”
“I’m sorry about your lady,” said Bella, and even through her business-like tone, I could tell she was sincere.  Cherry had respect for women like Miracle; strong, confident, and not afraid of the risks.
“You ain’t the one who needs to be sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” nodded Bella.  “But you better get outta here.  Things are about to get really ugly in Ambrose.  We’ll make sure that bastard pays for what he did…free of charge.”
I chuckled a little at this, but there was no way I was takin’ Bella’s advice.  I was given another chance to kill Bobby T…. and damn it, this time I was gonna do it.

Description
COLD TOWN:
DEAD MEN CAN TELL TALES

BURNS…

Prohibition Era.  You read all about stuff like that in the history books, but you never think it’s gonna apply to your time.  But here we were… right smack in the middle of one.
It started pretty much the same way:  A popular vice is deemed practically harmless by the high-ups in government until the “wrong people” become addicted to it.  Then, the ever-paranoid upper-class pushes the panic button and some pompous bastard in Congress passes the big law, making it illegal.  Forgetting the old saying about history repeating itself, the same pompous bastard doesn’t realize he’s just shot organized crime up one hundred and twenty percent.  While things are still all peachy pie with the upper-crust, all hell breaks loose on my side of the food chain.
Oh, by the way, you can call me Burns.  That’s my last name.  My first name’s of little consequence, so like I said… just call me Burns.  I’m a delivery man for the Java House, a toilet of a nightclub owned this overfed underworld kingpin named Lenny Java.  Actually, let me correct myself:  I was a delivery man for his club.  I’ll get to that part soon.
I delivered Cold, the so-called “Booze of the Century” and the subject of controversy for this whole Prohibition thing.  Cold’s this liquor invented by some alcoholic genius in Austria.  It’s smooth goin’ down and gives you a steady buzz faster than any other spirit, but doesn’t make you regret it nearly as much in the morning.  The downside:  The stuff’s more addictive than most hardcore drugs.  Personally, I’m a whiskey man and never bothered with any other poison.
So anyway, Cold was flown into Canada from Austria, and it was my job to meet with Java’s undercover man near the border.  Cold would be loaded into my truck disguised as something different every time; sometimes vodka, sometimes clear rum, and sometimes just plain old bottled water (given the condition of the Northeast River, a lot of people in Ambrose drank bottled water).  I’d give the man a suitcase full of dead presidents courtesy of Mr. Java, and then transport the Cold to the Java House in order to make my own bucks… nothing quite as substantial as what the border guy was getting.
But there were other perks.  Once I dropped off the shipment in the back, I got to go up front for a few complimentary shots and, better yet, I got to see Miracle, Java’s brunette goddess of a bartender.  What an angel like that was doing in that pit of Hell I still haven’t figured out.  I guess I should have asked her on that first date.
I remember that smile she gave me when I walked in the night of my final delivery to the Java House.  Those pearly whites sparkled in that dim-lit, smoke-filled room.  I plopped my ass down on one of the stools and before I even asked, she poured me two shots of Classy Fred’s, pretty decent brand of whiskey to be sold in this part of town.  Not surprisingly, I was probably the only guy in the place who ever drank the stuff.  It was all about the Cold with everyone else.  I wondered if any of the younger patrons even knew what it was like to get piss-drunk the old fashioned way.
What the hell ever.  Useless thing to wonder about.
“How’s my little Miracle tonight?”  I asked before downin’ that first shot.
“Pissed.  Disgusted.  Head poundin’ like a mother fucker,” she sighed with a hint of humor in her woe.  “Same as usual when I’m workin’.”  She then smiled again and put her soft, chilly hands in mine.  “Thanks for taking me out last night.  I needed that.”
“Yeah, me too.”  If only she knew how much I meant that.  Damn, how long had it been since I had been out with a real woman with a real mind of her own.  “You wanna do it again?”
“Yeah, sure.  When you up for it?”
“Tonight?”
“Can’t tonight.”  Miracle groaned, and it didn’t take a half-cracked genius to know just who she was groanin’ about.  “Lenny’s all hot-headed about Cherry Bella movin’ in on his territory with that new club of hers.”
“Cherry Bella?”  I almost spit out that second shot.  “Now, I don’t know her personally, but I know she wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull that shit.”
“Well, technically her club’s just outside Lenny’s jurisdiction, and it ain’t stupidity… it’s spite after that little incident at the Marcello Wedding.”
“If you ask me, all these Big-Timers need to grow the fuck up.”  Miracle and I shared that common bond.  We associated ourselves with murderers and thieves because it was an easy way to make money… not cuz we found any glamour and intellect in it all.
“Anyway,” said Miracle as she poured me another shot.  “Lenny wants everybody here to do some serious overtime.”  She then rubbed my cheek, which gave me a nice case of the tingles… all over the place.  “But I’m off tomorrow night.”  She winked at me, and was about to make some impatient douche a “Cold Tropical” when she turned back and tossed me a folded piece of paper.
“Almost forgot about this,” she said.  “Jo-Bo over there by the stage wanted me to give it to ya.”  I gave a nod of gratitude, but wondered what the hell a twitchy part-time stooge like Jo-Bo Baggs wanted with me.
Meet me by Sadie’s Subs in an hour.  Big chance to make a wad of cash.
That’s what the note said.  I peeked over towards the stage where some saucy new, fiery-haired dancer named Inferna was jigglin’ her tits for the droolin’ dogs below her.  Jo-Bo was the puppy in the middle, shovin’ another Mr. Washington in her thong.  Shortly after I turned my attention toward him, he followed suit.  He gave me a slight wave, tryin’ to be inconspicuous I guess.  No offense to the poor little fella, but I don’t think anyone gave a damn about what he was doin’.
But then here came that asshole Bobby T., Lenny Java’s pretty boy.  I’ve nearly had wet dreams about bashing his skull in with a lead pipe.  On his way over to the bar, he smacked Jo-Bo across the back of the head.
“Hey Jo-Bo, heard ya got some last night,” he said in a voice that made you want to strangle him and everybody else that sounded like him.  “You’re hand not fall asleep on ya or somethin’?”
Jo-Bo didn’t say a word as Bobby strutted his way over.
Yeah, pal.  I thought.  Come over here and slap me in the back of the noggin’.  But Bobby was an educated man (believe it or not, most of Java’s gang were).  Bobby knew better than to fire off a loose cannon like me.
“Evenin’, Burns,” as he waved Miracle over to make his usual; a Cold Lemon on the rocks.  “Delivery go well?”
“I got here on time, didn’t I?” I said.  In other words, Bobby, fuck your small talk.
“You know, Burns, I think you’re a good delivery man… damn good delivery man,” said Bobby before takin’ his first sip.  “Mr. Java thinks you’re a good one too.”
“Yeah?”  I think he could see that I could have given a rat’s ass about the compliment.
“But the fact is that’s all you are to us… a good delivery man.  You’ll never be anything else in this business.  You’ll never reach that next level, grab that brass banana in the tree, and you know why?  Because as a human being, you’re…”
“Worthless?  Pathetic?  Shit?” I whispered.  “I’ve heard this speech before.”
“Then do us all a favor, and quit walkin’ in here like you own the place, and quit flirtin’ with Miracle while she’s workin’ the Cold.”
“I think I can make that call,” said Miracle.  Another common bond:  Neither of us let slick-haired badgers like Bobby T. intimidate us.
“Hey!”  Bobby T. tried anyway.  “Shut your mouth and get me another drink, bi…”
No.  Ain’t happenin’.  I grabbed the finger Bobby had pointed in my lady’s face and forced it back down to the bar.  I could have broken it if I wanted to.
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I said.  I would call that a threat… but most threats are idle.  But I decided to let go when Java’s muscle head Aries showed up.  Don’t get me wrong:  I ain’t afraid of him either.  What I was afraid of was Miracle getting caught in a scuffle.  If she had gotten hurt because of my temper, I could never have forgiven myself.
“Fuck you, Burns!” sneered Bobby, and he and Aries made their way back to Java’s office.  “You better hope Mr. Java doesn’t fire you because of this… because then you’re mine… you’re fuckin’ mine!”  Like I said… threats are idle.
Once he and the big guy were gone, I peeked over to see that Jo-Bo was long gone.
“Ah, fuck it,” I said to myself.  “I’ll go to Sadie’s and see what’s on the little fella’s mind.”

When I showed up, Jo-Bo was chomping on a Sadie Special; turkey, ham, pastrami, and heavy on the mayo.  The smell of it made me sick to my stomach.
“You wanna sandwich, buddy?” he asked.  I guess he was just trying to make friends.  Poor guy didn’t have too many.
“No thanks,” I said.  “I ain’t that hungry.”  Then, it was down to business.  “So what’s this big money opportunity you wrote me about?”
Jo-Bo polished off the sandwich as wiped his mouth with his hand.
“You tired of working for Lenny Java?”  His mouth was still full and I could barely make out what he said.
“In know you are.”  I said with a hint of pity in my voice.  “Those guys give you a lot of shit, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but you and your bartender friend don’t.  You both have been real straight up with me, so I want you in on this.  I told Cherry Bella all about you.”
“Cherry Bella?”
Whoever said curiosity killed the cat definitely wasn’t talkin’ out his ass.  Five minutes later, Jo-Bo had fully convinced me to ride with him to the Aphrodite Arms over in a big gamblin’ district called The Brights… Cherry Bella’s part of town.

The Aphrodite Arms stood over the Brights like some kind of angry giant, and Bella’s suite was right at the top.  If your ears stopped up easily due to altitude, you weren’t going to be too cozy up there.  Personally, it didn’t bother me, and I know it damn sure didn’t bother Jo-Bo.  After all, he was going to be drinking top-rate liquor in a room full of beautiful women.
Bella’s gang was called the Broken Hearts, and it was nothin’ but ladies.  From what I heard, a lot of dumb mugs have paid for underestimating the Hearts because of their collective gender… sometimes with money, sometimes with blood.  I ain’t a dumb mug, and besides, it was 2055.
We were met at the door by K.C. and Kristi, a pair of twins who on the outside seemed like two smiling sweethearts, daddy’s little girls.  But inside their pretty heads was the knowledge to kill anyone who crossed them in any number of ways.  I once heard about some goon who was bold enough to flash a blade at them.  Before he could even take a swing at one of them, the other had broken his neck and severed his spine in one swift flinch.  Don’t ask me how.  I ain’t a martial arts expert.
“You Burns?” smiled Kristi.
“Yep,” I said.
“You Jo-Bo?” smiled K.C.
“Yes ma’am,” blushed Jo-Bo.
Kristi and K.C. wore the same sky blue dress suits, but you could tell’em apart by their hair color:  Kristi’s was bleached white, K.C.’s jet black.
“C’mon in,” they said in unison.  I was worried Jo-Bo was gonna embarrass himself once we walked in to see all of Bella’s beauties; blondes, brunettes, red-heads, Hispanic, Asian, black, white… one hell of a variety.  Bella outshined’em all though; long blonde hair, voluptuous, dressed in this real elegant green evening gown.  She sat at a black marble table in the center of the room with her right-hand woman Addie at her side.
“Evening, gentlemen, thanks for coming,” she said with a warm, but professional greetin’, kind of like sayin’ I can be nice, but cross me the wrong way and I can be a royal… well, you know.  “I know you both are taking a big risk even showing up here, but I will make it worth your while.”  I assumed by this she meant the pay-off.  Judgin’ by the look in Jo-Bo’s eyes, he assumed somethin’ else.
Cherry Bella had Addie show us an artist’s conception of her soon-to-be-opened night club.
“This, gentlemen, is the Cruel Kitty,” she said.  “This place has been my dream long before I got into this business.  Now that it’s finally going to be realized, I’m pulling out all the stops to make the opening night a successful one… and that includes complimentary Colds.”
“Java’s not gonna be too happy about that,” I said.  And I’m sure she could tell from the lack of sincerity in my voice that I would be the last to tell that fat bastard.
“Oh, I know he won’t.”  Bella grinned like the devil himself.  “Just like he won’t be too happy when his next shipment of Cold doesn’t arrive at the Java House.”
I fuckin’ knew it.  The whole underworld seemed to revolve around that stuff.  And I knew I was in a tricky position; either agree to make the delivery and risk the wrath of Lenny Java, or say “no” and risk not leaving this room alive.  Cherry Bella might have been a hell of a lot prettier than Java, but she was just as ruthless.  So I made my choice.
“Okay,” I said.  “Just give me the who, what, when, where… and most importantly, how much.”
“Two deliveries, that’s all I ask,” said Bella.  “I can handle it from there.  First delivery… you get half a million.  Second one… well, let’s see how you do on the first one.  Jo-Bo and my informant Inferna will give you the rest of the details.”
Inferna… the dancer at the Java House.  I guess Jo-Bo was a whole lot more interested in here than I thought.
“Sounds like you got all the angles covered,” I said, tryin’ my hardest to convince myself that I was right.
“Always do,” winked Bella.  “Well, that’s it for business.  Feel free to leave or stay and socialize.  Remember, when you’re on my good side, you’re on their good side.”
I really didn’t want to stick around, but I didn’t have the heart to rob Jo-Bo of an opportunity to get laid.

The delivery started off the way it always did.  I met the man at the border, we loaded up the truck with the Cold (this time in lemon-lime soda bottles), I paid him, and was then on my way back to Ambrose.  From there, I took the “detour”, all based on the information Inferna relayed on my cell shortly before the pick-up:
Who; Sami, cute little lady with short, brown hair… Cherry Bella’s personal driver.
What; a delivery truck from Bella’s business front, “Super Cone Ice Cream.”
When; 10pm, a half hour before I was supposed to arrive at the Java House.
Where; The Sweet Walk, a strip just outside of Java’s jurisdiction, close to the Cruel Kitty.
While I was with Sami, Jo-Bo was over at the Java House going on to Lenny and his gang about how the Cold was held up by a third-rate Russian crime boss named Pozkowski.  By the time the Devil’s Seven were ready to move in on the unknowing mug, I’d arrive with the empty truck to confirm Jo-Bo’s story.  If we played our cards right, Lenny would be a hell of a lot angrier with Pozkowski then me.  Plus, I think some additional sugar talk from Inferna would help too.  The plan worked… the first night anyway.  Now, I had to wait three days before the next delivery.

Lenny bought the story, but Bobby T. had those suspicious eyes blazin’ the next night when I walked in to pick up Miracle.  Java interrupted her day off when he fired one of the other bartenders.  Fortunately, he found some dead beat relative to replace the one he canned, and Miracle got to leave early.
I saw Bobby and that vermin Leach over by the pool table, both staring me down, before Miracle arrived and greeted me with an embrace and a peck on the cheek.  That almost made me forget about those assholes… until they made their way over.
“Big date tonight, huh Burnsy?” screeched Leach… like nails on a chalkboard.
“Yep,” I said.  There’s that damn small talk again.
“Have fun,” nodded Bobby, who then turned to Miracle.  “But don’t let him screw you over the way he did Mr. Java.”
“Pozkowski screwed him over, not me.”  For once, I didn’t blame Bobby for being a dick.  I would have trouble believing that lie.
“Bullshit,” said Bobby.
“Bullshit, haha!” added Leach.
“Pozkowski’s gang isn’t even in our league.  He wouldn’t dare try to pull a move like that on us.”
“Well, I know he won’t anymore,” I said.  “I heard he took a little trip to the docks last night.”
“Never hurts to be cautious,” chuckled Bobby.  Leach laughed with him before makin’ a goofy splashin’ sound, not that Pozkowski’s fate wasn’t overly obvious already.
“That’s the Devil’s Seven’s business, not mine,” I said.  “Now unless you have anything else to run your mouth about…”
“No,” shrugged Bobby, who then got right in my face.  “Just know that next time, it will be in your best interest that the Cold arrives here and on time.”
I just turned around, and Miracle and I walked out of that dump.
And damn it, I should have known that Bobby had convinced his boss to hire the Gnome to follow us.  Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so quick to accept the invitation to Cherry Bella’s pre-grand opening party at the Cruel Kitty.

Even tough it wasn’t open to the public yet, the Cruel Kitty was at full swing that night.  The place was what Lenny Java always wanted the Java House to be, but didn’t have the creative savvy to realize that little fantasy.  There was high-stakes gambling and even higher quality women… and Miracle must have told me four or five times how much she would love to run a real bar like Bella’s.  Cherry seemed interested when I mentioned it to her in passing.  It would be nice to see Miracle out of that hellhole and somewhere where she might be happy.
Jo-Bo was there too, tryin’ to make a play with the ladies, and thanks to a good word from Cherry Bella, he was actually succeeding.  The Gnome, a freelance photographer who took “revealing pictures” for rich paranoids like Java, was somewhere in there too, takin’ any shot of me or Jo-Bo with Bella.  He was called the Gnome because that’s what he looked like; short, bald, hefty fella with a long, red beard.  If he didn’t get a job as a camera-carryin’ spy, he’d be standing in some old lady’s front yard (I know… bad joke).  How a man that stood out like he did managed to sneak his way around in hostile territory like the Cruel Kitty was his little secret.

While Jo-Bo was getting his rocks off in one of the Cruel Kitty’s back rooms, I was kissing Miracle good night.  Maybe one day we’d take the next step, but for right then, it just felt nice to be loved by somebody.

The night of the third delivery came, and while I wasn’t nervous, I was cautious.  The first thing I did was tell Jo-Bo to stay in his apartment, out of sight and out of trouble.  The second thing was to pack some extra heat.  I always carried a Magnum Blaster under my jacket.  In Ambrose, a delivery man would be a moron to be unarmed.  Tonight, I added a Chain Rifle to my little “mobile arsenal”.  Those babies might be a bit bulky, but they were fast when you needed them to be.  Finally, I took an alternate route to the border… just in case Bobby T. or one of Java’s other pals decided to follow me.  There were some places even that scum didn’t want to drive through.
The delivery itself went pretty much like last time, only I met Sami in a different place; a 24/7 diner called the Dirty Fork.  She took it to Cherry Bella at the Cruel Kitty, and I showed up an hour later to pick up Jo-Bo’s and my pay-off; a cool million each.
That night, I planned to get Miracle, get a full tank of gas, and leave Lenny Java, Cherry Bella, and this whole stinkin’ town forever.  Then, shortly after I arrived at Jo-Bo’s, everything started goin’ to Hell.
I got outta there the second I saw Hoax and Leach drag Jo-Bo to their car.  Some folks might think me a total prick for keepin’ Jo-Bo’s cut, but I think it was a damn good confirmation that the poor guy wasn’t gonna need it.  Anyway, I stopped at Miracle’s place, told her the story, waited for her to pack her bags, and we were on our way out.
I thought we were safe once we were outside the city, and checked into a motel.  What I didn’t count on was that Java’s wrath knew no jurisdiction.
“I’d like to marry ya,” I told Miracle.  I guess I wasn’t one for elegant proposals.  I bought her a real nice ring while she was gettin’ carry-out.  I didn’t wait for some magical moment.  I just sat down by her on that uncomfortable motel bed and popped the question.
“Really, you wanna do this?” said Miracle with a whole lot of nervous in her voice.  She had a big smile on her face though.
“Yeah,” I shrugged, startin’ to get just as nervous.  “I mean, we’ve got plenty of money now, and we’re leavin’ to start a new life together anyway.  May as well make it legal.”  Miracle leaned over and kissed me.
“I guess if you put it that way, yeah I’ll marry ya.”
That should have been the greatest moment of my whole wasted life, but right after Miracle said yes, she was taken from me, shot to death by Bobby T.’s Tommy-27.  When that son of a bitch walked through the now shattered window, I jumped on him and proceeded to choke his own life out of him.  But I should have known he’d bring Aries along.  That fuckin’ ape grabbed me and rammed his knee into my back, damn near breakin’ it.  He then held me while Bobby punched me over and over again, wearin’ gloves to protect his perfect hands.  I held out as long as I could, but after one too many hits, I was out like a ghetto streetlight.
When I woke up, I was at the docks.  Hoax was on my left, Leach was on my right, and in front of me were Bobby T., Aries, and  Lenny Java… holding the cash-stuffed suitcases that Cherry Bella gave me.  I guess this was what Jo-Bo was going through before he bit the blaster… or however the poor schmuck died.
“You know, Jo-Bo came real close to tellin’ me what I needed to know,” said Lenny.  “But it turned out somebody else cared enough about him to kill him.”
“Sucks for you,” I moaned.  At that point, the only thing I had left to live for was killin’ Bobby… and it didn’t look like that was gonna happen… so fuck it.
“No, goof,” smirked Java.  “It sucks for you, just like it sucked for that pretty little bartender.  If Jo-Bo had talked, that might have given you some extra time to escape your fate.  But now, you got two choices; talk… or die.  Who else was workin’ this little plan with you and Jo-Bo?  Who’s the mole?”
“Fuck you, Java!” I screamed, as loud as possible with a mouth full of blood.  “Just end it!”
“You donkey-dumb bastard,” said Java.  “If I hadn’t sent Lowman out on a job, I’d have him torture you nice and slow.”
“I’ll do it, boss!” screeched Leach.  “I know all kinds of ways to make him squeeeeeeeal!”
“It won’t matter,” I said.  “I ain’t gonna talk… so just quit wastin’ mine and your time and end it already!”
Lenny stared me down for a minute with the soulless eyes, then nodded.
“Yeah,” he sighed.  “Alright… I guess you’re useless.  Hoax, Leach… dump him.”
“Oh no,” laughed Bobby T.  I should have seen this one comin’.  “He’s mine!”  Bobby then removed my own Magnum Blaster from his jacket.  What a douche bag.  With Lenny’s nod of approval, Bobby put the gun to my head.  His eyes widened with some combination of rage and delight.
“I’m gonna enjoy this even more than I enjoyed offing your bitch of a girlfriend,” he whispered.  I closed my eyes, as if to say a futile prayer.  But I never felt the shot.  I opened my eyes to see Bobby T. with a gun to his own head.  The weapon belonged to Cherry Bella.  Before Hoax and Leach could react, Kristi and K.C. had’em by the neck.  They may have been nuts, but they knew that any sudden movement and those lovely ladies would snap’em like twigs.  Aries had his own problem with an Amazon named Hunter, who actually had a more impressive build than he did.
“The Cruel Kitty was my dream, Java,” said Bella.  “You crossed the line, and now you’ve started a war.”
“It’s real simple, Cherry,” snickered Java, trying to play it cocky.  “You took my Cold, so I turned up the heat.”
“Two shipments weren’t worth what you did, so we are far from even.”  She then glanced over at me, and then back to the pig.  “For now, I suggest you and your gang get lost.  There’s more of my ladies in the area, and anything you try to pull…”
“Alright, damn it!” yelled Java.  “We’re outta here!”  Before he walked away, Bobby gave me that look he gave me so many times before… the “I’ll get ya later” look.  I was counting on that.
“Help him up, Hunter,” said Cherry.  For a big gal, Hunter was pretty gentle (and actually quite beautiful for a behemoth).  Bella then handed me the money, but I just handed it right back to her.
“No thanks,” I said.  “I don’t need it anymore.  I’ve got nobody to spend it on.”
“I’m sorry about your lady,” said Bella, and even through her business-like tone, I could tell she was sincere.  Cherry had respect for women like Miracle; strong, confident, and not afraid of the risks.
“You ain’t the one who needs to be sorry,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” nodded Bella.  “But you better get outta here.  Things are about to get really ugly in Ambrose.  We’ll make sure that bastard pays for what he did…free of charge.”
I chuckled a little at this, but there was no way I was takin’ Bella’s advice.  I was given another chance to kill Bobby T…. and damn it, this time I was gonna do it.