Under the Influence (987 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: The_Malleys
Rating: 1.91 on 19 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Axolotl .93 (View user info) at 2006-05-09 09:43:12 EDT
As soon as John Malley walked through the door, the phone rang in the Malley household, echoing clearly. Malley cursed and slammed the door closed, fiddling with the keys to try and lock the door shut. The phone rang a second time.
Malley threw his coat onto the rack, and knocked it over in his haste. The phone rang a third time, while Malley tried to right the coat rack in his tenacious effort to keep everything correct.
He ran across the living room and seized the cordless telephone off of the writing desk and held it to his ear, breathless and about to speak.
"I told you not to call here again!" came the electronic voice of Nick Malley on the other line. John Malley paused, his heart dropping.
"Your cell isn't on, Nickie, I have no choice," came a sleek, familiar voice.
"Ferney, I told you, I stopped, I've stopped," Nick said pleadingly. "My dad caught me with your weed, I've been clean since New Years'."
Malley now knew who the man on the other line was; Fernandez, a drug dealer and associate of the Family. He moved his lips away from the mouthpiece so that his son wouldn't hear him breathing.
"You're bitching out on me, six weeks after New Years'?" Fernandez asked erratically. "No more buying from me? My best customer, who set up my market inside a high school of a thousand eager consumers?"
"It's over, Ferney," Nick said. His voice sounded weary, almost afraid of Fernandez.
"It's not over by a long shot, Nicky," Fernandez growled. "I'll be talking to you soon, in private. I don't give a fuck who your father is, you breath one word of this, and your daddy will be short a son. You'll be getting acquainted with the Meadowland-variety worms, if you know what I mean."
Fernandez hung up the phone, and so did both Malley men.
John Malley was not an overprotective man; his mother had been, and he generally let his kids a free reign, but this was an entirely different story. He calmly collected his thoughts, mentally searching his list of possibilities. His choices were like tunnels in the darkness; if he went through one, all the rest would be lost and he could not go back.
Malley walked upstairs, toward his son's room. He could stay serene under even the most deathly situations, and as he knocked on his son's door, he remained calm and laconic.
Nick answered the door, pale and frightened. Malley embraced him, pulling him into his thick arms, and the boy shivered in fear.
"I'm proud of you, Nick," Malley said.
"He's going to kill me," Nick said in a high, shaky voice.
"You don't understand," Malley said. "Fernandez won't touch you as long as I'm alive. I'll protect you."
"I'm so scared," Nick breathed.
"We'll send Fernandez away, somewhere far away," Malley said, closing his eyes. "He won't bother you again. Would you have told me if I hadn't listened on the phone?"
"Yes," Nick said, drawing away. "I trust you."
* * *
It was Valentine's Day in New Jersey, and pink banners proclaiming the holiday hung on the lightposts of Lodi and Maywood as John Malley and Michael Brecher drove toward Brecher's Car Shop.
"Do you think Paulie will know what we're here for?" Brecher asked. Malley didn't reply, and kept driving on, toward the shop.
Standing in the wide industrial parking lot of the car shop, between Brecher's shop itself and a nearby warehouse, were two figures in dark coats, stepping against the car shop's wall as Malley pulled in. Donny McMichael, bulky and broad-chested, and the wiry, silver-haired Virgil O'Duinen Sr. greeted Malley and Brecher as they got out of the car.
"How's it been, Malley?" McMichael asked shaking Malley's hand. "Brecher."
"Fairly well," Malley answered. "We have the three captains, as well as the soon-to-be owner of the establishment...I think we're all ready."
"Jackie's going to do it personally," the elder Virgil said in a scratchy, choking voice. "In the basement under the shop. Through the door, here,"
Malley, Brecher, McMichael and O'Duinen walked down a flight of stairs buried into the concrete wall, disappearing below the ground, to the basement where the hijacked cars would go for refurbishing. Through a door in the crevasse of the earth, they stepped into a dimly lit room, wide and long, but with a low ceiling.
A paint-stripped car sat in the basement, crowding the company to a corner. McMichael led the way down, toward a set of chairs underneath reddish fluorescent lights. At the front of the wrecked car was a desk, small light, and a bookcase with a CD player; a pistol lay on the desk.
"Hold that for a bit," McMichael ordered; Brecher stuffed the pistol into his coat, while McMichael went to the CD player. He loaded in Jack Johnson's Brushfire Fairytales, Jackie's favorite musician, and they waited as the sound of steps on the stairs grew louder.
"...Malley and O'Duinen are down here as well," Jackie's voice was saying up the stairs. "They're having a bit of a fight over one of your cars down here, they need you to prove which one it is."
"No problem, no problem," said Paulie, coming into sight, his cheery face bright and ruddy as he entered the crowded basement. "Hello, Malley, Michaels, Virgil," Paulie said with a jovial wave. "Would this be the car in question?" He pointed at the wrecked, paint-stripped vehicle in the center of the secret basement.
"That's the one, Paulie," Malley said with a sigh. "Virgil seems to think that it belongs to one of his deceased crew members, and is rightfully his."
"Not a big quarrel, but one I'd like to get resolved," Virgil O'Duinen said with a strained grin.
"Well, we can do that!" Paulie said, clapping his hands. "Any identifying markings...?"
"Take a seat, Paulie," Jackie said harshly. Paulie turned around.
"Are you sure...?"
"Take a seat," John Malley said firmly. Paulie backed up, surrounded by the five men, and sat in the chair by the desk and in front of the bookshelves and CD player. Jack Johnson strummed gently on his guitar over the airwaves.
"Why did you do this to me, you pathetic piece of shit?" Jackie intoned clearly, pulling a chair out from behind a car and sitting down eight feet in front of Paulie. His arms were folded, and he crossed his legs and breathed aggressively.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Paulie said quickly, involuntarily shaking his head. Greying, stout Virgil and the bulky McMichael stood behind Jackie, their arms crossed and looking down at Paulie in disgust. Paulie checked his escape route to his right; Malley and Brecher were barring the way past the car to the exit of the garage.
"Don't bullshit me, Paulie," Jackie snapped, pointing a finger at Paulie, his mouth hanging slack.
"Jackie, I don't know..." Paulie said, raising his hands innocently, still shaking his head. "What do you mean? What have I done?"
There was a long silence. Jackie stared at Paulie, who started to frown nervously, and the capos shuffled their feet in anxious anticipation. Over the speakers, Jack Johnson sang, "Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast, frames can't catch you when you're moving like that."
"I'll give you one last time, Paulie—" Jackie started.
"I didn't even do shit!" cut in Paulie, his voice cracking.
"Hand me my piece!" barked Jackie, holding out his trembling hand. He seemed hunched over, older, malicious; gone was the smiling Uncle Jackie that Malley's children knew. Brecher pulled the pistol out of his coat and handed it to Jackie, who took it and aimed it at Paulie's face, his teeth gritted.
Paulie looked toward the exit, but he came face to face with Malley and Brecher, their guns drawn.
"I'm waiting, Paulie," Jackie said coldly.
"Please, Jackie..." Paulie begged.
"The time for 'please' is over," Jackie snarled, slightly lowering his gun.
"What could I do?" Paulie asked, clasping his hands. "They were investigating my business, ever since Porcelli was shot five months ago. They flipped me in December, but I swear, I was like a double agent! I only fed 'em lies and bullshit, I swear. I never gave them anything of value."
"My associates being arrested in Newark?" asked Jackie. "The FBI looking into our businesses in Paterson?"
Paulie was silent, and looked down.
"You son of a bitch," Jackie growled slowly, pronouncing every syllable with wrath. "You sold out every one of your few friends to save your own goddamn business. You worthless, pathetic worm, you don't deserve to even be a fucking mechanic in my shop, much less own it!"
"I'm so sorry, Jackie!"
"Yeah, sure," Jackie said bitterly. "You were my consigliere, my advisor, and this is what you do to me? And you say you're sorry?" Jackie fell silent, and sat back in his chair, easing down. Paulie cleared his throat.
"So...second chances?" Paulie asked innocently, smiling hesitantly.
Jackie's eyes widened in rage, and he quickly raised the gun and pulled the trigger. Paulie gave a slight cough of blood as his head jerked back, feet slamming rigidly into the floor. He slid down the chair, slumping across the seat, shot through the eye socket. His face was twitching, and his brains lay across the desk and splashed the opposite wall six feet away.
"Goodnight, Paulie," Jackie said. As Jackie shot Paulie again, Brecher looked away.
"It's done." Malley said in a tone of finality. "Let get this cleaned up, and get rid of the rat," O'Duinen stepped forward, feeling Paulie's pulse.
"My Paulie, my Paulie," Jackie sighed, holstering his weapon. "I loved you. Why did you make me do this?"
"It's all over now, Jackie," Brecher said, looking at Paulie's body.
"I know." Jackie breathed.
* * *
In one of Teaneck's northern elementary schools, they were having their Valentine's Day dance. Inside the gym, 6th-grade boys and girls flirted and giggled, each dancing with their own gender, happy as mid-winter break started. Outside the gym, Michael Brecher stood as a chaperone on the sidewalk outside the school, watching for any illicit activity.
"Hey, you shouldn't be here," Brecher said jokingly to John Malley, who was walking up the street. "Should I call the cops?"
"Yeah, the ones on Jackie's payroll," smiled John. "How's it going?"
"The only thing I have to worry about here is eleven-year-olds making out in the corners," Michael replied.
"Ah, kids..." John said, looking into the gym and the dancing grade-schoolers. "You love them, don't you?"
"I know what you mean," Michael said. "I'd do a hell of a lot to protect my daughter. When its time for her first date, I'll answer that door with a baseball bat in my hands, scaring away whatever lowlife tries to get with Sue-Sue."
Malley laughed, looking nostalgically into the content children of the gym.
* * *
The previous night, John Malley had driven down to Kearny, a good half-hour drive from Ridgewood. It was nearing midnight when he found the street corner he wanted, and stepped out, wrench in his hand, his face hard-set. Malley spotted his target.
"Hey, Fernandez!" Malley shouted, dashing across the empty street to Fernandez' corner and throwing the wrench in his direction. Fernandez cursed as the tool bounced off his leg, leaving a dust mark on his baggy pants.
Fernandez quickly picked up the wrench and started running toward the park, limping as he went along. Malley drew in close behind him, and slammed him to the mulch at the gate to the park.
"You think you're some kind of wise guy, you fucking cocksucker? You want to threaten my son?" hissed Malley, prying the wrench from Fernandez' hands.
"Shit, man, you don't understand," Fernandez spluttered, pulling himself to his feet and feeling in his jacket. Malley moved in with his wrench, and whacked Fernandez across his shoulder.
Fernandez whipped a switchblade from his jacket and sliced across Malley's chest, cutting a shallow laceration beneath his collarbone. Malley, fueled by adrenaline, broke Fernandez' arm with the wrench.
As Fernandez fell, Malley said, "I understand very well, Ferney," and slammed the wrench into Fernandez' head. The metal came up bloody.
* * *
"I understand," Michael replied. "How's your chest?"
"Minor cut," John replied. "It was more problematic explaining to my wife why I was out at one in the morning in Kearny."
"Where's Fernandez now?"
"At the bottom of the Passaic River. It was for my son, I have no regrets..." John said, closing his eyes. "But every man I kill, I move farther away from my family. I've got to go see Jackie. I'll talk to you soon, Mike,"
"You too, John," Michael said sympathetically. He waved silently as John Malley walked away down the street into the night.
Episode 1: The Malleys http://www.ubersite.com/m/87184
Episode 2: To Risk Your Arm http://www.ubersite.com/m/87242
Episode 3: Innocent Until Proven Guilty http://www.ubersite.com/m/87289
Episode 4: Roulettes http://www.ubersite.com/m/87511
Episode 5: Broadside - http://www.ubersite.com/m/87564
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User Reviews
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-06-22 14:48:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-11 08:15:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-05-11 02:32:12 (#)
Ranking: 2
Reminded me of Road to Perdition, especially right near the end.
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That was a great movie, it's kinda what I'm trying to get the feeling of in these stories.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-05-11 04:06:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-05-11 02:32:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Reminded me of Road to Perdition, especially right near the end.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-05-10 11:49:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Then you did a splendid job
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-10 08:05:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-05-09 17:12:21 (#)
Ranking: 2
The names do make you think of Goodfellas but I still thought it was great, I'll sod off now and read the early stuff.... and cherrs george for link whoring me.
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I kinda wanted it to evoke things like the Godfather, Goodfellas movies like that, less the Sopranos. Just old regular Irish-Italian warfare.
Submitted by Beano312003 (user info) at 2006-05-09 17:12:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The names do make you think of Goodfellas but I still thought it was great, I'll sod off now and read the early stuff.... and cherrs george for link whoring me.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-05-09 11:40:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nonetheless, this series still kicks ass.
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:58:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I'm worrying about your name changing ever so slightly.
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:47:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
THIS is where its at:
http://www.ubersite.com/m/87693
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:47:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:40:07 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:56:28 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:52:14 (#)
Ranking: 0
man with all the cliches i just can't give it a positive rating, do you really think la familia talk like this?
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Of course not, they say "Wow my heart does hurt. The only thing he'll eat is hot lead."
_________________________
Thats more like it, you sure your story isn't a parody?
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Haha
I love you, georgemichael.
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:42:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:20:18 (#)
Ranking: 2
i liked it.
what was wrong with the dialogue? the fact that he called someone a "fucking cocksucker?"
_______________________
Not so much the dialogue but the cliche's (unless they were done on purpose) Jackie and Paulie? why not throw in a Tony, Carmela and big Puss as well?
this reads like a midday telemovie
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:40:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:56:28 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:52:14 (#)
Ranking: 0
man with all the cliches i just can't give it a positive rating, do you really think la familia talk like this?
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Of course not, they say "Wow my heart does hurt. The only thing he'll eat is hot lead."
_________________________
Thats more like it, you sure your story isn't a parody?
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:29:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
The dialogue in which?
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2006-05-09 10:20:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i liked it.
what was wrong with the dialogue? the fact that he called someone a "fucking cocksucker?"
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:56:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:52:14 (#)
Ranking: 0
man with all the cliches i just can't give it a positive rating, do you really think la familia talk like this?
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Of course not, they say "Wow my heart does hurt. The only thing he'll eat is hot lead."
Submitted by georgemichael (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:52:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
man with all the cliches i just can't give it a positive rating, do you really think la familia talk like this?
Submitted by professorfuckface (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:46:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
your stories are almost as classy as the maps you have to go with them
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-05-09 09:43:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm somewhere on that map of 16 million people. Not the best quality, but it was fun making.