Glen did the typical job duties while sitting on his desk and typing away at the computer, seeing that it was 3:00pm. The phone had ringed, and he picked it up, expecting some exciting news, hopefully useful, "Human Resources, Glen speaking?"
"Glen Fletcher, this is Detective Krestanovich."
"Um, yes, how are we?"
"I'm fine here, I hope I'm not disturbing you from your job."
"No, you are not."
"Mr. Todd Rucker was booked into Wayne County Jail Division Two at approximately five hours ago."
"Six in the morning?"
"Yes, he apparently went into Detroit, got into trouble for soliciting a prostitute."
Glen paused at that, just how pathetic Todd had gone down to is what got him with the troubling, yet silly thought. And he had heard that Wayne County Jail Division Two jail is a very rough one, with 2/3 of the inmates being black and held many gang members who have been caught. Todd surely is in deep trouble.
"Mr. Fletcher?" Krestanovich muttered over the phone.
"Yes, sorry, little too much info to absorb." Glen said.
"I imagine so, I have just also informed his mother, I haven't called other family members yet. And I'm rather swamped right now with a few cases."
"I'll contact his brother and sister about the good news."
Krestanovich laughed, "Okay, thank you." Then he hung up.
Glen went on to call Jim on his cell phone, he answered with "Glen?"
"Your brother Todd got caught with a hooker and is in one of the worst jails ever."
"Really?"
"Yes, according to that detective who called me just now."
"Wow, listen, the fuckin' temp place called me to say I'm off the job until I can prove that what had happened did happen. The lady who called me was being a cunt, just like when I applied there."
"Get me a fax number, I'll fax or e-mail what they need from you, then you can return to work. It's one of those named temp offices, right?"
"Yeah," Jimbo mentioned the name of the temp office.
"That's the same one that gave us the temps we have now. I know the woman who is being a cunt to you, I'll take care of this personally and get you back to work."
"Are you going to tell her I called her a cunt?" Jimbo asked.
"No, you and I both can agree that this woman is a total See You Next Tuesday."
"Okay, but why, Glen? I already work for you on that little job we have."
"It's because you need that job to cover what might happen next. Get crackin' on those numbers." Glen said.
Next, the door opened with Barb entering with a short woman with long black hair, wearing dorky glasses, dressed in a white blouse with a black dress coat under it, with matching dress pants. Barb was saying something to the woman, but Glen paid mind to his phone call.
"Okay, James, I'll get to that fax right away, I had the man himself e-mail me the report. I got to go, my boss is here." Glen said, next to hang-up the phone.
"Glen, I want to introduce you to Loraine Bulbinski, she will be your assistant once I leave here as you assume the role as sole HR manager."
Glen stood up and shook hands with her as the three had pleasant smiles on their faces and he added, "Well, if you do a good job, you can be Jr. Human Resources Manager in the matter of a few months."
"Yes," Barb added, "Glen was able to do that."
She chuckled, "I hope so."
"Listen, why don't you two get yourself acquainted. You two will be working with each other pretty soon," next to tell Loraine, "he'll be your boss."
Barb walked away, and she chuckled lightly.
"You could sit down on that seat if you wish, you can pull it up in front of me." Glen said while pointing out the seat by his desk.
"Okay, is the chair heavy?" She asked while walking towards it, the sound of her steps indicated to Glen that she was wearing high heels.
"No, want me to get for you?" Glen offering while he was about to stand up.
"No, if it isn't heavy, I can do it." She said while grabbing the seat and putting it in front of his desk, Glen went on to his work e-mail to see two e-mails, one was work-related while the other was from Colleen with the subject in capital letters reading, 'You are in asshole.'
He regarded that but went to the e-mail from the Clinton Township Police Department sending him the file on PDF format. While so, he asked Loraine, "So, how long have you worked at Ropers? Or are you just fresh out of college?"
"I worked a few years at the one in Roseville, it's where I'm from." She said.
The paused Glen, and he said, "Roseville? I worked there."
Her eyes widened, "Really, when?"
"Oh, in the late 90s to when I finished college."
"Oh, well, I just started a few years ago, I was working there while going to college, at Macomb Community, the one at Twelve Mile."
"Twelve Mile High," Glen calling that college by its well-known name, while printing a copy of the police files. Personal use of Ropers computers was not allowed, but everybody and anybody can easily violate those rules with the very nil chance of repercussions.
"Yes, Twelve Mile High, is that where you went?" she said while looking for credentials on the wall, in which Glen did not have any.
"I went to Eastern Michigan."
"Oh, I knew someone over there, what was his name?" She said while looking away with wonder.
While so, Glen regarded her, but for his own booming curiosity, he wanted to look at that e-mail Colleen sent him.
"Do you know a Jason Bellrom?"
"He was in one of my classes come to think of it, but I never knew him personally."
"Oh, he was in the National Honors Society in my school, like me. There were very few of us at my school."
"Did you go to Rosedale High?" Glen asked while opening that e-mail through Outlook while trying to show Loraine that he was interested in her.
"Yes, pretty rough school though." She said with a chuckle.
"Don't worry, I was at your competition, East Detroit High."
"Really?"
"Yes, I was." Glen added while regarding the e-mail.
The e-mail started with Colleen asking on how Glen himself could just take her kids away from her, he then said with sarcasm, "Boy, do those solicitors somehow get your work e-mail and send you those amazing offers."
Loraine chuckled at that, "Will I get my own e-mail when I officially get the job?"
"Yes, you should. I'll see to that, I was once the IT assistant here."
"How come you went to Human Resources?"
"I didn't want to, it was really forced upon me, it's not hard. The promotion comes in faster."
She smiled again, "Really?"
He pointed to her, "If you do good, it will come up before you know it." While that, the printed PDF police file came out of the printer, Glen put his index finger while he got up and headed to the printer near Barb's desk, "I have to fax this, what exactly were you doing over there at the Roseville Ropers?"
"Oh, I first started as a front end assistant. Once I passed the ninety days, I worked in the woman's department with at times working in customer service." She said.
Glen got the paper from the printer and walked to the fax with the business card of the temp office in question handy, and sent the fax.
"But, I have to say, some of these customers got awfully mad about small things... I probably shouldn't have said that."
"Trust me on that, I saw for myself." Glen said, he wondered if she was referring to a specific few black female customers who often shopped there during his day, who often complained to customer service, not limited to other employees.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't too bad. But I finished up at Twelve Mile High with my degree in business, and I want to take the next step. I don't want to be customer service for too long."
"There's nothing wrong with that, you surely deserve it." Glen said while he circled to his desk.
While so, beyond all that mumble-jumble that Colleen wrote in that e-mail. But the last line stated, 'I also e-mailed your boss about how much of a fuckin' asshole you are. I told him about the gambling, the drugs, the bullshit. YOU WILL GET FIRED."
"Oh boy, another e-mail from the Midwest office." Glen played it out.
"You mean, the one in Troy?" She asked.
"Yes, we get quite a few of those during December. It's usually for all people or just for the higher-ups." Glen stating a fact, in which the people from his mom's office do send a slew to all salaried employees, "nevertheless, I think you should have been here on Black Friday."
"Oh, was it hectic? It was at Roseville." She asked.
"Yes, it was, I came in to be a front-end assistant for twelve hours."
Some knocks hit the door with Tom Floyd entering in, the two looked over to see the suit and tie wearing man with a full smile on his face. Glen saw Loraine get up nervously, chances were good that his new underling was often distressed around upper management. One could tell by his tag stating, 'Thomas Floyd, Store Manager.'
Glen attempted to help her out, "Tom, this is Loraine Bulbinski; she is our new assistant in Human Resources."
Thomas smiled, "Ms. Bulbinski?"
She had a tense smile on her face, "Y-you can call me Loraine, or Ms. B."
Glen got off of his chair, looking to do whatever he needed to do to make Loraine feel at ease, she had the jitters. Tom Floyd was not an evil, ruthless boss as the one he had only heard of being the store manager of Roseville, one he did not work under when he was present.
"Ah, we are going to need one, since Barb is getting the promotion. Are you new here?"
"Um... yes. I, I..."
Glen stepped in, "Hate to interrupt, she is from the Roseville store."
Tom looked back to her in awe, "Oh, the Roseville store, that is where I started."
"As-as a store manager?" she asked.
"No, back when I was a front-end assistant, a long time ago."
"A long t-time ago?"
"Yes, back when Lincoln was president." Tom with one of his rare jokes about how long he has been affiliated with the Ropers world.
The two laughed at that.
"Am I interrupting a meeting here?" Thomas asked.
"No," Glen shook his head, "Barb let her here for a moment."
"Well, I think Barb is taking her break now. Why don't you take one yourself, take a longer one. And try not to drink too much caffeine while you are on break." Tom said.
"Well...okay, you sure you are okay with this, Mr. Floyd?"
"It's okay, and you can call me Tom, or Tommy, like Glen sometimes does."
She bided farewell and left the office, with Tom closing the door. He then turned to Glen while dropping the smile, "Glen, you are not in trouble, but I received an e-mail in my inbox from..."
Glen interrupted, "Colleen?"
Glen and Amel arrived at Formaris Pizza. The two entered the restaurant with an older female of Italian descent, pointing them to the kitchen. The two held laptop bags and saw that the restaurant was running steadily with customers sitting at the bar and others sitting at booths and enjoying some Chicago-style pizza that was on special for the day.
"I just bought a new Compaq, a thousand dollars." Amel bragged as the two entered the kitchen.
Glen regarded the chefs working feverishly, one elderly male waved to them and said with that heavy Italian accent, "Bona sera."
The two regarded him with waves and simultaneously, "Bona sera," only Amel's had the accent.
The two made it downstairs, and Glen said, "I just brought my Dell Netbook."
"Dell Netbook? Did you buy the piece of shit at Ropers? I hate those netbooks."
"No, bought it at Micro Center. I don't like bringing my good laptop around, so I bring the netbook."
"All you can do is surf the web on that shit."
"It's all I need."
Mario had greeted the two with smiles, but besides the three, only Scott who was Amel's #1 man, until he was promoted as Mario's last in line at #4. Not to mention, Mario's daughter, as a server.
"Can't get anybody to go against us, so it's an internet day, I want to win some fuckin' hockey games. Y'know, in Italy, barely anybody plays Ice Hockey there, that's why the team fucks up a lot during the Winter Olympics." Mario said.
"They don't do that shit in Albania, either." Amel added with a laugh.
"Got some other news, fuckin' Juby got busted."
Amel and Glen stopped their tracks, Amel went first, "What? No way. If he did, how come I don't know that?"
"Sgt. Salvatore of the Macomb County Sheriff's told me that bit of info, he got busted on the Saint Clair Shores/Harrison Township border."
Amel shook his head, "The fuck! He better not rat us out."
Later, Glen sat on one of the tables with a Bud Light and his netbook laid down while seeing that the four games he had advised on were all, so far, winners. This also included Detroit beating Chicago 6-1 as the second period rolled around. Detroit was in favor at 1.5 goals, so far, that one alone he could be confident for. As usual, he got a little bored and decided to look into his personal GMail account to see any new and interesting e-mails that may have popped up minus the spam that GMail sometimes fails to catch. He imagined that he received an e-mail or two from Colleen. So he prepped for that with a smile of humility on his face.
He logged in and put in his password since he hadn't checked his Gmail account in over a week, he had 90 messages. Pretty much all were spam, none from Colleen but one message in particular from Tommy, with no subject. He clicked it with the idea that Tommy was probably sending a hate message.
Instead, it read this:
"Yo, Glen. I saw that mom of your dead girl with Mario's daughter at the Clove. That shit's suspicious."
That put some thought into his head. Colleen defiantly knew that Glen was doing something that was against the law but couldn't quite figure it out on her end. He knew that it would be a matter of time when she figured out Glen for the truth, and he knew she would use it against him. He eyed over to Amel's table, in which she was also present, and standing by him while conversating. Glen waved her over, and she slowly complied.
"More beer?" she said with a fake smile.
"You okay?" Glen asked.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
Glen shrugged, "You look a little ill. I wanted to ask, you know somebody by the name of Colleen Warnock, or Colleen Herbers?"
She didn't spare thought into this and shook her head, appearing annoyed now, "No."
"You don't?"
"No, should I know who she is?"
Glen shook his head, "No, that won't be necessary. I don't need anything else."
She then walked away and headed back to Amel's table.
10:45pm rolled around and cheers with hands raised up for all four involved with the gambling reign praises of joy, seeing all four games won. Mario and Amel sang a song in the Italian language while Glen looked on joyfully, playing 'Life Is A Highway,' the Rascal Flatts version on his cellphone.
After the victory song was done, Mario approached with a shake of Glen's hand and said, "We won Twenty grand today Glen, you'll be getting four grand pretty soon. But I'll start you off."
Mario then handed Glen ten Benjamins and said, "You'll get the rest pretty soon."
"Little by little." Glen said.
Amel and Glen exited the bar with cigarettes being smoked and a smile on Amel's face, the two walked to their respective cars, parked next to each other.
"Four for four!" He shouted.
"Yes, we did it." Glen said.
"You did it. Be sure to get to Scotty about your share, he did the same thing too."
"Hmm, I thought Mario connected all the dots."
"Yeah, but sometimes you got to check them. What's going on with you and the basketball?"
"Tommy advises me on that, and he is currently pissed at me."
"The hell did you do?"
"I played a dirty joke on him when I called Mario's daughter to me earlier, she appeared really pissed off. Were you talking crap to her?"
Amel lightened his step and looked over to the bar real quick, then turned back, "Mario's daughter can be the biggest cunt to walk this earth. She'll like you and then she'll go suck your dick, then next, she'll suck someone else's dick, then it's like a circle. Then, she'll go back sucking your dick. I fucked her twice, she's crazy."
"I see." Glen said, he noticed now that Amel was perhaps under the influence of quite a few drinks.
"You fucked her yet? I mean, I know your girlfriend died and shit, but... have you been gettin' any?" Amel asked.
"I have, not from Mario's daughter."
"You scared? Mario ain't gonna do shit if you fucked her. God damn, Mario just wants money, he doesn't give a shit if you fuck her. Don't be scared."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The two had made it to their cars, but Amel stopped Glen in the process of going to his door.
"Hey, Glen?" Amel yapped.
Glen stopped and turned his head, "Yes?"
"Listen, man, we ain't gonna tear your balls off if you make a few mistakes. It's not like Casino, there is no Nicky Santoro to fuck you up... you making small bets. You fuck up a few times, the worst that will happen is we kick your ass a little. Now, if you fucked Mario out of a hundred thousand, million..." he then drew a smile on his face, "you better be runnin'. But, y' all make little bets, the worse that can happen is he yells at you. It ain't that scary. We just want some money, just like these dirty corporations and McDonald's do, you understand?"
"I understand, but I hope that I don't have to get to that level of being depended on making six to seven-digit bets." Glen said while looking away at the end of the sentence.
"Then fuck up a little." Amel said, he then walked into his car, started it up, and drove off quickly.
Glen saw that and said, "My girlfriend falls victim to a drunk driver, and I just basically allowed him to drive out hammered." He opened the door to his car and let himself in.
While saying with sarcasm, "Why am I doing this?"
Amel got off the I-75 interchange and merged onto I-696 heading eastbound, he was leaving Troy and making his way out of Madison Heights, a town he and many would think to be as one of the most boring cities in suburban Detroit. His driving was a little irrational, due to which he had four Milwaukee's Best and Mario's daughter's new cell phone number to go along with it. He was listening to one of the many Hip Hop stations Detroit had to offer, playing some Chamillionaire. The evening turning late-night traffic on I-696 was sparse. Very few cars nearby and the road was basically open for him, even for his swerve.
After passing by the mile 22 marker and going past the Mound Road interchange, he noticed a Macomb County Sheriff getting off the exit and coming along I-696 quickly, hitting the gas and about to reach Amel, who saw and became frightened.
"Oy, shet." He muttered over a radio advertisement of Flo from Progressive Insurance telling how much he and anyone else listening could save on car insurance. However, Detroit had the highest insurance rates of all of the United States.
Amel tried to play it cool but looked onto the cop with suspicion and paranoia, as he drove behind Amel and followed him too closely.
"Don't bust me, fag." He muttered again while telling himself not to attract any attention to him.
After a minute, the car still flowed, matching the speed of Amel's 65 when the speed limit was 70. He kept his attention to the road and did his best for judgment as well. But somehow, the cop behind him did not ring his sirens, he just kept following... closely.
"What the fuck do you want?" Amel said.
The officer merged onto the next lane and drove off at perhaps past one-hundred MPH.
Amel allowed himself to think about the beginning of the Super Troopers film, where the three drug users got fouled with by the Highway Troopers. He spared little thought into that and went on driving.
The end of I-696 came to I-94 with the option to go east or west on I-94, or go onto Eleven Mile Road into Saint Clair Shores. He took the route to Saint Clair Shores in where Eleven Mile would play as a service drive for its last seven or eight miles, then turned into a significant residential road. Amel smiled on the idea that he was away from that cop who drove behind him for a good minute, giving him some total paranoia. He bypassed a green light at the I-94 exits and saw the sign saying Welcome to Saint Clair Shores, seeing the patented blue street signs that followed, heading to Little Mack Avenue with two gas stations at the east corners and two shops at the west. He kept driving with the thought that he was home free, and with fish to fry. He had to talk to Juby.
But as he drove to Little Mack, a police car got behind him. Amel saw that and did as he was going to do, make a right turn onto Little Mack. When the light turned green, he did so, and the cop followed. Amel maintained the speed limit of forty, as well as driving well although he had a few beers. However, it wasn't good enough for the cop, he ringed his sirens.
"Motherfucker." Amel muttered.
Over the speaker, "The male in the Silver Jaguar, pull over on the next residential street, now!"
Krestanovich is shuffling papers on his desk, smiling after a phone call. An officer walked to his desk and asked, "You okay, detective?"
He looked up, "Yes, my case that I'm working on has got Officer Juby and now Amel Kalari in custody."
"Amel now?" he corrected.
"Yes, Amel was drunk driving around I-696 and even Saint Clair Shores. They are going to try to sweat him out for info."
"Okay, I hate to inform you, but I do have Colleen Warnock on the phone, line three."
Krestanovich sighed with his smile dropping and said, "She has called me four times already, sending me e-mails. You know, I'm about to drop everything here for a second and drive all the way to Troy and have a talk to her myself."
The officer appeared confused, "Is she a kook?"
"Basically, all her e-mails are saying that she wants Glen Fletcher arrested. Saying he is involved with the drug trafficking here in the county, but no such evidence exists."
"We do have him on surveillance with Amel and some others at The Post Bar."
"The gambling, yes, I'm aware, but my case against is nothing. Glen is in on it, but it isn't worth the bust, not just yet. I'm not going to kick down his door to slap him on the wrist."
The officer didn't reply.
He dropped his papers and grabbed the phone without clicking a line, "I'll give her a talking to, what line?"
"Three."
Krestanovich clicked line three and said, "Ms. Warnock?"
"Sorry, Ms. Herbers. Listen, I have more than enough information from you, and I need you not to contact me unless you have other information I can use..."
Colleen continued on the other end.
He sat back in his chair, "Okay, well, that is something, I'll add that, thanks."
He hung up the phone.
"What did she say?"
"She says that Glen has a connection with that local Eastpointe gang."
The officer laughed, "Those wanna-be thugs over there?"
"Well, she claims that one of Formaris' family members is now speaking to her about Glen's activities, now she is saying that Glen also assists with the Eastpointe gang, who is a farm system to the Mantis gang. It's a worthy note, but I'm not going to jump to it."
"Now, Glen Fletcher lives in those condos in Shelby Township?"
"Um... yes. That's right."
"Well, Shelby Township PD is saying they are having a problem within that proximity."
Glen sat down on the white couch, Jimbo and Jasmine sat on the other couch, and the three were watching CNN, seeing that Anderson Cooper was talking about an issue going on in the Middle East. Glen watched with trying interest while the other two watched on, not that interested.
"How come you are not going to bed?" Jasmine asked.
"Usually, on Thursday nights, I stay up a little later."
"You know, I hate CNN." Jimbo asked.
"Don't worry, I'll be going to bed pretty soon, you'll only have to suffer for a few more minutes."
Anderson Cooper's voiceover while video of a Middle Eastern country in conflict and the immediate reaction of the U.S. Department of Defense.
"Looks like we are prepping for another war." Said Jasmine.
"You always say that." Jimbo said.
"Jimbo, shut up."
"You got pissed off when Bush was re-elected."
"Because Bush was a fuckin' retard, even all republicans."
"No, we are not retarded, not like your democrats."
"What? Shut up, you should be happy we have more democrats, they are in support of us getting our SSI, Bush tried to fuck us."
"Bush protected us from the terrorists."
Jasmine poured a dirty stare, "There was no terrorist, 9/11 was an inside job."
Glen chimed in, "Guys, okay, stop with the politics." It wasn't the first time the two argued about politics in front of him.
"Bullshit," Jimbo said with a sneer of his own, "you truther dummy. Nine Eleven wasn't an inside job, you and those hippies are fucking stupid."
"Guys?" Glen tried again.
"Fuck you, what about building seven? The BBC said building seven was down twenty minutes before it went down. The shit was planned."
"You are a fucking idiot, that video isn't authentic."
"It is you, dickhead republican."
"Fuck you, you lesbo democrat, why don't you stick your tongue down Hilary Clinton's cunt." Jimbo said.
Glen chuckled at how brutal Jimbo has gone, while Jasmine sighed ruthlessly.
"Fuck you, why don't you suck George Bush's cock. Who are you, anyway? You are just some little weak piece of shit who gets his ass kicked by his big brother, not to mention how you allow mom to embarrass you, I bet you never been laid."
Jimbo instantly got up and approached Jasmine ruthlessly, "Fuckin' bitch!"
Glen jumped in the middle and spread his arms, with a voice of anger, "Listen to me, you fucking spazzes!"
Jimbo stopped his rush while whatever anger Jasmine had to her brother had faded away with the scare of Glen's scream, which was a first.
"Would the both of you shut the fuck up!" Glen saying while switching the view from Jasmine to Jimbo each half to a full second, he continued, "I'm goin' to fuckin' bed. If you guys interrupt my sleep, I will kick your asses out of my house. Do not start with this political shit, no arguing, get the fuck along or else you can go spend the night with your mother and that goofy fucking Scientologist."
He then walked to his room, but adding, "God damn."
Glen knew that the next morning would be filled with resentment from the two because of those words, but he wanted to nip the problem in the bud, and with the guarantee that the arguing will not come back again, he needed to get up within six hours, and he needed all the sleep he could get.
A little past an hour, Glen's cellphone ringed out that familiar Lee Ann Womack song. He got himself out of a not-so-deep sleep. He knew he was being interrupted, not by Jimbo and Jasmine arguing, which surprised him, but his phone ringing due to a possible emergency or a more than likely disturbance.
"Hello?" Glen said to the other end.
"Yo, Glen?" Tommy asked.
"Tommy!" Glen started.
"Dude, seriously, don't do that shit again."
"Tommy!"
"DUDE! Shut up for a second."
"Tom-may!" Glen one more time.
"Okay, faggot, I can hear you!"
"Why ya calling me?" Glen asked.
"Listen to me carefully... okay, are you listening?"
"Yeah, you woke me up, you got my near-full attention."
"Well, I need your full attention. Listen, man, I gotta tell you something."
"I know about Jimbo's mom. I'll handle it."
"No motherfucka, it's more than that."
"Well, you have a minute to tell me what's wrong, then I'm hanging up, I need mey sleep."
"Well, I'll tell ya under a minute, because sleeping is something you won't be seeing much of down the road."
"Okay."
"Word has it that Super Mario is gonna down you like a bitch." Tommy said with seriousness in his tone.
That worried Glen somewhat, "Am I gonna die?"
"What... no. He ain't gonna kill you, nothing like that."
"Any family, friends gonna die?"
"No, listen, motherfucker," Tommy said with an uptone voice, "when I mean he is gonna down you is meaning that he is gonna kick your ass out of his gang, or rotation, or whatever they are doing."
Glen paused at that at first, then said, "usually with that word down, it means to most people that is a threat, those choice of words, Tommy, were quite scary."
"Alright, sorry about that shit. But, listen to me..."
Tommy was interrupted by a black female yapping at him about food orders.
"Yo, shutdafuckup, I'm on my break." Tommy said to her.
He heard her clearly when she said, "You've been on break many times, Tommy."
He replied, "Don't fuckin' call me Tommy."
She said, "Whatever bitch, your ass is gonna get fired."
Tommy came back on, "Glen, ya, still there?"
"Fucking up on the job?" Glen asked.
"Ya, I'm gonna get fired pretty soon, I may have to apply for a job at Roper's."
"You can be a janitor. Now, how do you know all of this?"
"I know everything, I've been in the business longer than you have, motherfucker. And when Mario kicks your ass out, Mantis wants you in... and he will get you in."
"Do I have any say in the matter? I thought about quitting, to be honest."
"Quit? Nigger, are you serious? You ain't quitting! Mantis won't let you do that. Now, we are going into winter, your cousin Rudy isn't going to save you. There are only two big names in the biz, Super Mario and Mantis. Besides, you told me that you are helping out the funds for your biker gang pals. What happens if you can't provide? They will fuck you up once they come back, I know how they work, they are crazy white motherfuckers."
"I don't think you need to worry about me, how do you know if Mantis will put me with his crew."
"You golden, the words out, you topps. You ain't quittin' motherfucker. Just wait and see, the events I'm telling you bout, Glen, it will happen."
Then over the background, "Tommy, what the fuck! We got a whole shit load of people at the drive-thru. Get the fuck off the phone."
Then Tommy said, "Damn, sorry, Glen, gotta go."
Next, he hung up.
Some thoughts went into Glen's mind on how Tommy knew all of this. He sure wasn't psychic, as Glen would think all psychics are full of crap. But Tommy had been in the business since he leaving of high school, things were going to get a little hazy down the road.
He didn't dwell on that subject and laid himself back to sleep.
I Hope You Dance, came up again. Glen let the song play a little while to look at the phone, seeing that it's two in the morning, and a phone number not familiar to him, but the name said Garnol Barrett. Then it dawned on him.
He answered, "Is this the boogie man?"
A female chuckle came up, with the sexual whisper tone, she said, "No, it isn't."
Glen sat up and placed his feet on the floor, "Colleen?"
"Yes, it is, Glen." She said with a slurry voice which gave Glen the creeps.
That he expressed, "This is really creepy, calling me in the middle of the night. Have you been drinking?"
She breathed a pleasant breath, "Oh, I'm a little tipsy, my new boyfriend had given me the best fffuck ever."
Those words horrified him, especially the tone of voice he heard, that sexy voice, "I didn't want to know that." He said.
"Well, that's too bad." followed by a kinky laugh.
"I'm gonna hang-up and shut off my phone, I really don't know I could fall back asleep after this seriously strange phone call."
"Strange phone call?" Colleen asked, still with that sexy tone of voice.
"Well, yes. You are drunk, you just admitted to me that your Scientologist boyfriend did you, which I really didn't need to know. It's almost comparable to some of the horror films I've seen with a strange phone call, and then strange shit happens."
She chuckled ruthlessly at that, with the hum of her post-sexual pleasure going through the phone, and she said, "Well, it's funny that you mentioned that, because Glen," she then reduced her voice to silence, "shit...will...happen."
"Yes, I bet so, after this phone call."
"Oh it will, it will. In fact, I was talking to Detective Krestanovich after you left. He told me some things."
"Did you do him too?" Glen asked with a sarcastic smile on his face.
She paused with disgust over the phone and said, "You wish, Glen."
"No, I don't." Glen said while putting his hand on the right side of his hand, disgusted by the open discussion of her recent sexual endeavor and also he found himself a bit rabid by the question he just asked.
"No, but he told me that you are under suspicion."
"Did he say why?"
"Well, Glen, why don't you tell me?"
Glen shrugged, "Well, I'm unsure why I'm under suspicion, what did he say?"
"Oh, just that you are hanging around with drug dealers and also big-time gamblers. You know drugs and illegal gambling is against the law."
"Looks who's talking, your son is a drug dealer. Let's say I am breaking the law, if I get caught, I can get you."
She laughed a little, "Are you threatening me, you faggot!?"
That was perhaps the first time Glen ever heard Colleen use the word faggot and that gave him a slight surprise, but he continued on, "Inheriting some of Todd's vocabulary? I imagine he is being called that a lot in Wayne County Jail."
"Don't be too cocky, because pretty soon, you'll be there."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because, trust me, Glen, I know."
"Hmm... popping pills not prescribed to you is also illegal."
"What you do is worse. I do miss my kids, Jasmine, Jimbo, Todd and my beloved daughter, who died under your care...."
"Whoa," Glen interrupted, "woah, woah, woah. You listen to me, you do not ever accuse me of Sheila's death. I mean, seriously Colleen? Why are you saying this shit? What? You can't get your way? I wanted a fucking promotion in IT from my job, I didn't get that. I wanted Rudy to stay here instead of going to South Carolina, so I have a family member to be around, I didn't get that. I asked any powers up there to not take Sheila away after the accident, I didn't get that. I can move on. But you, whenever something goes wrong, you act like a total cunt. What the hell is with you? You can't always get what you want, do you know that?"
"And this is how you treat me?" Colleen asked.
"Well, yes, you just said that I'm responsible for Sheila's death. I take that as a serious insult."
"What about spending time in prison?" She asked.
"Whatever you may think I'm doing, why don't you try to prove it, instead of calling me in the middle of the night and threatening me?"
"I will prove it, and you will be in a total world of shit. And besides, my new boyfriend works for the church, he's going to Florida, and I will be going to. And I really want my three kids to come with me. I just tried calling James and Jasmine, but their phones are off. So, whenever you get some time, you go and tell the two that things are gonna change and we are all leaving this shitty town and this depressing state we live in."
"They are old enough to make their own decisions, what's in Florida anyway? Scientology goofiness? From what I've been told, your new boyfriend belongs to the same religion as Tom Cruise."
"First of all, they are my kids. And they are going to go with me to Florida. The city of Detroit has treated us poorly, we need a new lease on life."
"And you think Florida will be the complete opposite? Perhaps the weather, but you will see things not going your way in Florida, trust me on that. There is no magical place, Colleen, I hope you know that."
"I know that, but I have been mistreated here, by you, the four men I've married,"
Glen interrupted, "The four men you married is your fault."
She sighed ruthlessly, "Euuu, I swear to you, Glen, you will fucking pay for that comment."
He said sarcastically, "I'm frightened."
"I'm going to become a Scientologist; we are going to Sea Org in about a month. I'm quitting my post at Harbor, and we are leaving this bastion of negativity that is Detroit. I'm selling that house and selling the piece of shit that Jim and Jasmine live in, you can tell them that. I'll be over there soon to talk some sense into my kids and seek to you that you do pay for the crimes you've done against me. You just wait!" Colleen said.
Before Glen could respond, he heard the slam of the phone.
He looked at his phone, shut it off, and laid back into bed, "Good luck."
Glen awoke with some lights coming through his shades of that master bedroom of his, the lights flickered red, white and blue. He laid there for about ten seconds wondering about those lights trying to peek through the shades and flying its shadows on the ceiling. He rose up a little off the bed and said, "Wow, some action."
Although he was far away from the front door with his own door closed, he heard the bangs on the front door, typical of a cop. He rose up all the way out of bed with confusion while he heard Jim or Jasmine walk frantically to his room, the door opened, and Jim stepped in with a face expressing that he was shaken up.
"Um, dude. It's the cops."
Glen got out of bed and looked at him with surprise, "No way, I think your cunt mother ratted me out."
His eyes filled his face, "Uh-oh."
He slowly walked around, Jimbo, and into the living room. He had seen the flickering red and blue trying to get in from the close-shaded windows by the front doors. Also seeing that like her brother, Jasmine had the fear in his face.
"Guys, don't worry, they are after me, but prepare for some nasty, angry cops to barge right in here when I open the door and do everything they say." Glen said.
He had some sanity going in for him, but he was mentally frightened as he approached that door, now hearing a helicopter come in and through the loudspeaker, "This is the Macomb County Sheriff's department, come out with your hands up."
He got to the door and shook his head, "All this for a little gambling?"
His hand was on the handle, and he thought about how this may have happened. Did Colleen rat Super Mario out? Did Colleen just finish up on a sexual favor on a high-ranking cop to get after Glen? His imagining of that horrified him with that image of her giving head to the Sheriff himself, dressed in his Class A suit, with his pants down and... well, he didn't want to imagine what the Sheriff's wanker looked like. Neither did he want to think about Colleen giving him head.
Douche chills shivered up and down his spine and said to himself, "If that is the case, once I'm out, I will commit murder."
Through the speaker, "Sheriff's Department, get your ass out of the house now."
The douche chills went away, but the fear came back. Glen almost wanted to sob when he opened that door, although, with no record and minimal confrontations with officers even while he wasn't breaking the law (besides Juby, a reserve), he knew how brutal police officers could be, and if his home was going to be raided, he knew he was about to be knocked down once he opened the door, treated like a terrorist and one false move can have an itchy-trigger finger cop shoot him for that, and potentially walk away with a slap on the wrist.
"This is it..." he said while looking at Jim and Jasmine once he turned the door handle.
He opened the door wide and quickly, he peeked out.
"Out with your hands up!" said the loudspeaker in the chopper.
Glen rose his hands up and walked out in the Michigan cold with just a pair of sweat pants and a white wife-beater on.
"Augh, boy." He said.