Read SOUTHSIDE HUSTLE: a gripping action thriller full of suspense Online
Authors: LOU HOLLY
Trick had forgotten how it felt. He was happy. No, it was more like giddy. He turned up the radio as he drove to Ginger’s apartment. “Ain’t nothin gonna break my stride,” he sang along, “nobody’s gonna slow me down.”
Trick shut the car door behind his back and felt a spring in his step as he crossed the parking lot. Multi-colored leaves from ornamental pear trees lining the parking lot rained down as he tried to contain his excitement. After getting buzzed in, he climbed the stairs two at a time and pounded on her door.
“All right, all right.” Trick detected annoyance in Ginger’s voice as the chain unlatched. When they came face to face, she demanded, “What’s so important? You know Pat’s in kindergarten.”
“I came to see you.” Trick rocked back and forth from his heels to his toes. “Good news. Money’s not going to be a problem for us anymore.”
“Here we go again.” Ginger motioned with her hands in an exaggerated manner as though performing in a high school play. “What’s it this time? You borrowed money and invested in another oil field?”
“This isn’t some pipe dream. It’s already happened. No more risks. I’m done.” Trick pulled a Ziploc neatly stuffed with cash from the inside pocket of his brown leather bomber and held it out toward Ginger. “Here, get yourself a new car. Trade in that piece of shit you’re driving.”
Ginger took the money and asked, “How much is in here?”
“Fifteen-thou. If you want, I’ll come with you and negotiate the deal. I know how those thieves operate.”
“What did you do? You do something stupid?” Ginger tossed the money on a knick-knack shelf like it was burning her fingers. “You finally did it, didn’t you? Robbed a bank. You always talked about it.”
“The less I tell you the better. It’s unmarked, that’s all you need to know.” Trick pulled a folded wad of cash from the back pocket of his Jordache jeans and added, “This is for child support, for the next year.”
“Petros already told me he’d get me a new car when we get married. I really don’t need you to buy me one,” Ginger said, putting the loose cash in the pocket of her yellow terrycloth robe.
“Forget that Greek Mafia wannabe. He’s all talk, not who you think he is. Believe me.”
“You’ve been away. What do you know?”
“I know people. You don’t go through what I have without getting an education in people. Don’t trust this guy.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Of what? I can buy and sell that restaurant right out from under him now if I wanted.” Trick became annoyed with Ginger’s mocking expression. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at me like I’m crazy. I’m telling you, every dog has his day, Honey, and I’m barking.”
“You’re serious.”
“Damn right, I’m serious.”
“I trusted you before and look where it got me.” Ginger picked up the Ziploc of cash and held it out toward Trick.
“No. You keep it. Get yourself a dependable car to drive Pat in. No strings attached.” Trick started for the door but hesitated and turned. “Have you been to the doctor lately?”
“No. Why?”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re getting too skinny.”
“I just haven’t had much of an appetite,” she said, tightening the belt of her robe.
“You look sick. Go see a doctor, will you? I’ll pay for it.”
Ginger looked at Trick’s concerned expression, biting her lip. He thought he saw tears welling up as she turned and walked into the bathroom.
***
Making way for a cocktail waitress zipping past with a tray full of drinks, Trick took a step back, turned and bumped into a very attractive young lady walking with a Manhattan cocktail. A cherry flew from her drink and landed in his beer glass. Trick took a second to compose himself, took the cherry from his glass by the stem and held it out to the young beauty, “Did you lose your cherry?”
She flipped a long lock of shiny black hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her wrist. “Do you ask all the girls you bump into if they lost their cherry?”
“Only the ones I want to marry.”
“Whoa, slow down, buddy. You might get a speeding ticket,” she said, taking the dripping cherry and holding it away from her as though she might be holding a dead mouse by its tail. “Besides, I never marry guys unless they tell me their name first.”
“Sorry I bumped into you. My name’s Patrick. People call me Trick.”
Her clear alto voice seemed to cut through the loud music and clutter. “My name’s Collette. My friends call me Collette.”
“Can I buy you another cherry with a fresh drink around it?”
She giggled and dropped the beer soaked cherry into an ashtray on a nearby table. “No, thanks. It’s all right. I’ve been meaning to cut down on cherries anyway.”
Noticing two stylishly-dressed young ladies watching them intently, Trick motioned toward them with his thumb. “Friends of yours?”
“Oh, those are my girlfriends,” she said, waving to them. “They watch me like a hawk. Always think somebody’s going to try and pick me up.”
“Well in this case they might be right. Why don’t we grab a table … over here,” Trick said, taking her gently by the elbow. They sat at a tall, wooden table and set their drinks down. “You live around here?”
“Yeah, right here in Orland.” She opened her clutch bag, took out a cigarette and placed it between plump lips. “Did you say your name’s Trick?”
“Short for Patrick.” He pulled a cigarette lighter from the side pocket of his tight-fitting Perry Ellis sport coat and lit her cigarette. “Patrick Halloran.”
Collette slowly blew smoke from parted lips and held her cigarette up like a 1940s Hollywood star. “So, you’re Irish.”
“Think so?” He leaned in closer to hear better over the DJ’s blaring speakers.
“Well, sure. With a name like Patrick Halloran.”
Trick caught Collette’s girlfriends scrutinizing his advances from the corner of his eye. “I mean, do you think I look Irish?”
“I guess so.” She sipped her drink, studying his face. “Am I missing something?”
“No, forget it.” A young guy strutted by in a patterned polyester shirt, half unbuttoned, showing off gold chains. He bumped into Trick’s elbow as he was bringing his glass of beer to his mouth. Trick’s demeanor changed in a split second as he quickly shot up and glared at the guy. The young man pivoted, put his hands up in apology and kept moving away. Noticing Collette’s shocked expression, Trick sat back down and said, “Sorry, forgot where I was.”
“You looked like you wanted to kill that guy.”
Trick let out a long breath and dabbed beer from the front of his cashmere sweater with a cocktail napkin. “It’s OK, forget about it. Where were we?”
“You remind me of someone … that actor. What’s his name? Tough guy, did a lot of cowboy stuff in the 60s, cops in the 70s?”
“Yeah, I get that once in a while. I was born with a lucky face.” Trick did his best to lighten the mood and said, “You look like my second wife.”
“You’ve been married twice?”
“No, just once.”
“Oh … oh.” Collette giggled again and crossed her legs.
“I’d like to take you out. How about dinner tomorrow night? We’ll go somewhere nice.”
“Tomorrow? You’re assuming I don’t have plans?”
“No. I’m not assuming anything.” Trick examined Collette’s body language and studied her crossed leg swinging in short quick movements. “Do you have plans?”
“Maybe.” Collette put a hand to her cheek. “I just met you. Never had a guy ask me for a date … so quick.”
“I really like you. Why wait?”
Collette tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know. It’s just …”
“Look, it’s not that complicated. It’s a yes or no question,” Trick said with a smile. “I won’t be offended if you say no.”
“How about I give you my number and you call tomorrow afternoon?”
“Perfect.” Trick clasped his hands together as a sign of sealing the deal.
Collette’s girlfriends approached the table as she was handing Trick her phone number that she jotted down on the inside of a matchbook cover. “C’mon, Collette. We’re leaving.”
Trick stood and extended his hand to the closest girlfriend. “Hi, my name’s Patrick.”
She looked at Trick’s hand as though it might be a viper. “Hello and goodbye.”
Collette shook Trick’s hand as it hung there. “G’night, Trick. It was nice meeting you.”
The heavier-set girlfriend pulled Collette by the arm. “God. We leave you alone for a minute and you’re giving your number to some hooligan.”
Trick stood and waited as the three walked toward the exit. He watched Collette closely and got what he was hoping for when she looked back and smiled.
As Trick sat alone in a bar full of people, his sense of wellbeing began to ebb. He had every reason to feel great, but something kept gnawing at him. It was like that feeling he got when he left the house knowing he had forgotten something, but couldn’t remember what it was.
Trick stretched, his bare toes brushing against the cool smoothness of fine cotton sheets. His eyes shot open, realizing he was no longer in prison. How long would it take, he wondered. Weeks, months? Maybe years until he got used to waking up not surrounded by several other inmates, snoring, coughing, belching and farting. He got up, looked at the bag of cash on the floor next to the bed and walked to the bathroom. His own bathroom, he marveled. No waiting for a toilet. No watching eyes.
After taking his time shaving and showering, he walked back to the bedroom, sat on the bed and pulled the bag up next to him. He opened it and ran his hand over the pile of cash. He loved the texture, the way it looked and smelled. He loved everything about it.
Trick decided to head downtown to the Magnificent Mile. He needed some new clothes that fit the extra muscle he had gained lifting weights in prison.
***
After purchasing a couple of new sport coats, silk shirts, slacks and other items at Bigsby & Kruthers in Water Tower Place, Trick treated himself to lunch next door at the Ritz Carlton Café. As he sipped his Perrier with a lemon wedge, he smiled, taking in the animated conversation from the next table. Actor, singer and game show host, Bert Convy sat at a white linen covered table with several women who gushed over his thick curly hair and long eyelashes. He wondered who the ladies were, members of a fan club, hosts of a charity event? One table away was a different world.
Trick gathered his bags and left a fifty-dollar bill to cover his meal plus a healthy tip for the comely young lady who waited on him. Walking past the huge fountain in the center of the expansive lobby, he spotted a few pay phones near the elevators. He walked over, set his bags down and took out the matchbook containing Collette’s home phone number.
“Hello, Johnston residence. How can I help you?” Trick recognized Collette’s sweet, sexy voice.
“You can help me by saying yes.”
“Is this Trick?”
“Is that a trick question?” Trick examined his fingernails, considering a manicure. “What time should I pick you up for dinner?”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Collette didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
Trick glanced at his watch and waited several seconds before responding. “I’m waiting. Going once, going twice.”
“You’re a real character, aren’t you? I should say no.” Collette manufactured her own uncomfortable pause. “OK, Mr. Halloran, you’re on. Come by and pick me up at 7:00.” She gave Trick her address and closed by saying, “And you better be on your best behavior. You’re not the only guy asking me out.”
***
Trick retrieved the bag of cash from the bedroom closet and sat in the living room staring at it. He knew he had to find a place to stash the money very soon. When he was shopping earlier that day, he kept worrying about who else might have access to the condo. Maybe Reggie’s old girlfriend, Tamla, still had a key. Safe deposit boxes, he thought, five of them. Probably get a false identity too.
As he freshened up and brushed his teeth, his concerns grew. He put on a new sport coat and grabbed the bag, deciding the money would be safer in the trunk of his Lincoln while he was out with Collette.
***
“Dinner was great,” Collette said, taking Trick’s arm as they exited Toby’s restaurant. Feeling the texture of his sport coat, she remarked, “You really dress nice. What are you wearing?”
“Armani. Thanks.” Walking across the damp red maple leaves that littered the parking lot, still wet from the night’s earlier rain, Trick was moved by the earthy aromas that filled the autumn evening air. He wanted to breathe in all the things he missed when he was locked up.
“What did you say to the hostess?” Collette leaned her body against Trick in a way that made him want to stop, put his arms around her and kiss her. “You got us such a great table and she took us right back while all those other people were standing around waiting.”
“Oh, I just told her that if she took care of us I’d let her sleep with you. I slipped her your number. Said she’d call you tomorrow around noon.” Trick turned and looked at Collette with a serious expression. “Use a sultry voice when you answer.”
“What?” Collette’s mouth hung open as they stopped next to his car, but then burst out laughing when Trick could no longer keep a straight face. “You are such a bad boy.”
“I slipped her a ten-spot.” Trick unlocked the passenger door and held it open. “Told her my name was Doctor Halloran and I was on call. Works every time.”
Collette surprised Trick with a soft kiss, then placed a hand on the front of her short skirt as she got in, preserving the mystery of her femininity. He closed the door and walked around the back of the car thinking the kiss seemed promising. He got in and asked, “Would you like to come over to my place for a drink?”
At first he thought Collette must not have heard him because she took a compact out of her purse and opened it, using the reflection to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. After pausing, she turned and said, “Something about you. I don’t know, maybe it’s not a good idea.”
“Come on, I’ll take you back home the minute you say so.” Trick held three fingers up in a mock Boy Scout salute.
“OK, just one drink. But you have to promise to be good. I’ve never been alone with a man before.”
Trick squinted, furrowing his brow. “You mean …?”
“No, I’m not a virgin and I’m not gay if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve never been with a real man, just guys my age.”
Trick was at a loss for words so he just nodded and turned on the radio. While Sade’s sultry voice moaned, “Smooth Operator,” Collette lit a cigarette and put the passenger window down a few inches. She studied Trick’s profile and said, “You know, you’re not a bad looking guy, a little rough but kind of nice too.”
“Thanks. I’ve been taking handsome lessons.”
Collette giggled. “What?”
“Yeah. Correspondence course, nine easy lessons to look more like Cary Grant.”
“Oh, really? How’s that going?”
“Lesson number one … have good looking parents. High cheekbones are a plus.”
“What about lesson two?” she asked, playing along.
“Stand tall, shoulders back. Think handsome and you’ll be handsome. Doesn’t matter if you have blue eyes or brown eyes, but if you have a nose like Jimmy Durante you’re liable to flunk the course.”
“What about three?” Collette laughed.
“That’s as far as I got. So, after seven more lessons, watch out. You might not be able to control yourself.”
“Oh, boy, I can’t wait.”
***
Trick opened a kitchen cabinet that contained several liquor bottles. “How about a twenty-four-year-old Scotch?”
“Jumping bunnies,” Collette exclaimed in a way that made him feel a little uneasy. “That’s three years older than me.”
Settling on the living room sofa, Collette inquired, “There’s still something I don’t get. Your name’s Patrick Halloran, but you don’t know if you’re Irish?”
“It’s a long story.” Trick swirled the ice in his Chivas Regal and took a sip. “I started out as Baby Patrick in the orphanage, no last name. From what I’ve been able to find out, I was adopted by a couple named Halloran. The records were sealed but I paid someone under the table for information. I was told the Hallorans adopted me in a last ditch effort to save their marriage. It didn’t work out so they ditched me. The first thing I can remember as a kid, think I was about four, was being brought back to the orphanage. I didn’t understand. There was a lot of crying. I had this lump in my throat that didn’t go away for a long time.”
“I’m surprised you can remember back that far,” Collette remarked.
Trick could see sadness in Collette’s eyes. Compassion he could take but pity was something he couldn’t stand. He learned to differentiate between the two long ago. “Something like that you don’t forget. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. That stayed with me all through my childhood. Can’t remember all the details but there were other foster homes. I was bounced around like a paddle ball, so were my feelings. Every time I went to live with a new family, I prayed they would keep me, even the ones who treated me like shit.”
“Sorry I touched a sore spot,” Collette said, looking uncomfortable. “Did you ever try to locate either of the Hallorans?”
“No. Why would I? They didn’t want me then. Don’t think either of them would want to see me now. Besides, there’s a lot of Hallorans out there. Phonebook’s full of them.” Trick held an imaginary telephone to his ear. “Can you picture me? ‘Hello, Mr. Halloran, are you the guy that broke my heart?’” Trick shook his head. “No, I don’t see that in my future.”
Collette leaned closer and gently rubbed the back of Trick’s neck. He set his glass down and turned to kiss her as her mouth opened in response. He slid his hand under Collette’s cropped sweater and felt her softness through the thin laciness of her bra.
“C’mon, be good. You promised,” Collette moaned. She pulled away and adjusted her clothing. “We just met. It’s our first date. I’m not like that.”
“I understand. It’s just that I’m very attracted to you and … I haven’t had sex in three years.”
“A good looking guy like you?” she asked, wrinkling her forehead. “Come on.”
“No really, I’m not kidding. It might be better if I told you a little more about myself.” Trick looked down and rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes. “I just got out of prison. Did a few years on a cocaine beef.”
“Oh, no.” Collette pulled the hem of her skirt further down over her tanned thighs. “That must have been horrible.”
“The worst part was being taken away from my son.” Trick straightened up and continued, “It’s understandable that if you break the law there’s got to be some consequences. But it doesn’t seem right that a guy’s family has to struggle while they’re in there playing cards, lifting weights, killing time. I think it would be better if we were forced to work at full wages, doing anything, construction, manual labor, whatever. As long as the money was sent to your wife and kids, you know, people on the outside who depend on you.”
“I can’t get over you being in prison. I never went out with a bad boy before, not a real one.” Trick thought he detected a hint of glee in her voice. “If my dad found out … oh boy.”
“What does your dad do?”
“He’s a police officer, detective with Orland Park.”
“Oh, great. Say … what did you say your last name was?”
“Johnston.”
“I better take you home now.”
***
Trick shut his headlights off just before turning into Collette’s driveway. “Collette … I was thinking. I’d love to see you again, but your father could be a problem.”
“Really, you think so?”
The vague sarcasm in her voice gave Trick a twinge of anger, reminding him of his ex-wife. “Maybe if he got to know me, found out I was legit, not dealing anymore. He might give me a chance.”
“I don’t know.” Collette watched the living room window of her house. “Maybe. They say anything’s possible.”
“What does a guy have to do? I lost everything when I got busted, everything. I did my time, paid my debt to society.” Trick turned the radio off. “Tell you what. If your dad asks about me, tell him my last name’s O’Connor. OK?”
“I don’t like lying to Daddy. I love him but sometimes he scares the snot out of me. How long do you think that would work anyway?”
“I don’t know. But I’d love to take you out again. I really like you. You got class.”
Trick leaned over to kiss Collette but she quickly turned her cheek to meet his lips. “I better get in before Daddy gets up and looks out the window. I’ll let myself out. Bye.”
“I’ll call you,” Trick’s voice trailed off as Collette shut the car door behind her.