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Tumbling Dice (84 hits)

Category: UberMadness! Entry

Rating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)

Submitted by Shaun_Rocks (View user info) at 2006-10-23 08:07:13 EDT

This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.

My name's Travis Witt and I am the proud owner of the worst bar in Chicago. It's a Friday night, and I've got three customers. The only three guys that ever come in.

Charlie, sitting in the corner, is going through a rough divorce.

The guy sitting by the window is Michael, his sister and fiancé were killed in a drunk driving accident. He was the drunk driver.

And Kevin is the young guy sitting at the bar. He doesn't come here often and he never says much except when ordering a drink. I don't really know his story.

I used to have a fourth customer. Sharon Slate was the ray of sunshine this place needed. Even Michael didn't feel as bad when she was around. She was an attractive but married woman who came home early from work one day to surprise her husband. She got the surprise when she found him in bed with her brother. The husband chose to leave her rather than talk things over. She killed herself the following Tuesday.

I never wanted this bar. I've got plenty in my own life to be depressed over; I don't need these people's help. But my uncle talked me into buying the place from him before he left the country. He told me it was the perfect thing for someone with a Bachelor's in Business Management.

Goddamn asshole.

I'm losing money every day I keep the doors open and I'd lose everything if I closed 'em. The only thing in here that's worth a damn is the jukebox. It's loaded with some great bands, but these three never use it. Listening to music might cheer them up; we can't have that.

A stiff breeze blows in when the door is opened. My three customers are here, guy must need directions.

"What can I help you with?"

"You Sam Witt's nephew?"

Fuck. What else did I get involved in with this place? "That's right."

He shoots a look at each of my regulars. Charlie and Michael almost jump out of their seats. Both tell me to put the drinks on their tab as they hurry through the door. Kevin stays in his seat, focusing on nothing but his bourbon.

"I'm Tony Kaufman."

Oh shit. Not THE Kaufman...

"Your uncle was an associate of mine. Last I checked, he owes me quite a bit of money. And since he disappeared, I decided that you should take up his role."

"What role was that?"

"The role of owing me money - four G's, plus interest."

If Kevin's glass hadn't clinked against the bar, I would have forgotten he was there.

"Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? Those two you scared off are the majority of my business."

Without saying a word, Kevin drops a couple fives on the bar and then leaves.

Kaufman smiles, "Alone at last."

My throat tightens.

"The way I see it, there's only one way to make everyone happy..."

He reaches a hand inside his suit coat and the air around me suddenly gets very thin.

"You're going to work for me."

I swallow hard.

He pulls a pack of Lucky Strikes from his pocket. "Think about it. I'll be back tomorrow."

He lights a cigarette and heads for the door, I feel the breeze again as he swings it open.

I'm going to work for a gangster?

I get to the bar the next day to find the door open and Kaufman standing in front of the jukebox.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

He doesn't turn, "You got a fine selection of music." I see him dig into his pocket. The dull clunk tells me he just dropped a slug into the machine. He punches a few buttons and then meets me at the bar. The track loads and the light pacing of an early Rolling Stones song kicks in. I'm not sure which one yet.

We stare at each other while waiting for the lyrics to come on.

'Women think I'm tasty, but they're always trying to waste me. And make me burn the candle right down.'

"I thought about your offer."

'Cause all you women is low down gamblers, cheating like I don't know how.'

"And I really don't need another debt to worry about."

'But baby, baby, there's fever in the funk house now.'

"I'll take the job."

'Baby, I can't stay, you got to roll me, and call me the Tumbling Dice.'

"I'm glad to hear it Mr. Witt." He shakes my hand and smiles. "I'll be getting out of your hair just as soon as the song is over. I know you have customers waiting for you."

He finds that hilarious.

The music slowly fades out over the repeated chorus, Kaufman smiles, "Tumbling Dice by the Rolling Stones - one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands."

I nod. What else am I supposed to do?

The humor in Kaufman's face drops, "You're going to take this envelope to the corner of 18th and State. A man will hand you a briefcase, you will bring that briefcase back here. Clear?"

"I'm starting right now? What about the bar?"

"Closed. Now get to work."

He hands me the envelope and walks me to the door. I turn onto State Street and finally realize that I'm working for the mob. What if I get busted by the cops? I'll crack for sure, then I'm gonna get whacked. Just one slip up and I could end up with cement shoes at the bottom of Lake Michigan!

But that was all unwarranted paranoia. The exchange goes off without a hitch and Kaufman gives me big pat on the back.

"You done good, kid." He looks at his watch, "It's two o'clock, I'll pick you up at this time tomorrow."

Kaufman leaves before I can say anything - although I'm not sure what I would have said.

I get a call from Charlie a couple hours later. He and Michael are too worried about running into Kaufman again and says they'll be back later in the week. No word from Kevin but that isn't anything out of the ordinary. I close the bar early and head home.

Where's Kaufman taking me tomorrow?

I get out of bed a little after ten. Still plenty of time before I need to be at the bar and it's early enough for McDonald's breakfast. I get dressed and head for the door.

I grab the doorknob and my palm starts to sizzle, I jerk my hand away. There's smoke seeping in around the edges of the door. Fuck, the building's on fire!

I run back to my bedroom and shatter the window with a chair. I hurry onto the fire escape, it's rickety as hell but I'm only three stories up. As I climb down the ladder to the second story, I make sure to keep in mind what they say about not looking down. And then I look down.

That wasn't such a big deal.

I hop onto the second story fire escape and look up - now that's what they should warn you against - I see my former neighbors engulfed in flames. I step onto the ladder and hurry down.

I'll never forget their screams.

People above me did the same thing to get out, heated bits of glass fall onto my arms and back - searing into my skin. I hurry down the ladder, desperate to escape any more burns. I reach the first story escape and can not take it.

I leap over the edge.

I fall faster than I expected to and hit the ground hard, my head bouncing off the pavement. Consciousness begins to leave me and my visions blurs...

There's someone walking towards me... Kaufman?

I wake up with bandages on my arms and a pain in my back. Kaufman stands over me, smiling.

"That was a close one kid." He laughs and sits in the chair behind my desk. I'm on the couch in my bar's office. Kaufman and a bunch of his friends are here too.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days," a skinny man by the door answers, "We gave you some morphine to help with the burns."

I sit up. Blood rushes to my head and my stomach turns. "What happened?"

Kaufman speaks from behind the desk. I can hear something that almost sounds like remorse in his voice, "We had no idea you were in that building, kid. There was someone on the fourth floor that we needed to eliminate and it had to look like an accident."

"You burned down an entire apartment complex... MY apartment complex, to get one guy?"

Kaufman and his men nod.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Kaufman's eyes flare, "I understand you been through some kind a grief kid, so I'm going to let that slide. But when you're talking to me, you watch your mouth."

"Maybe you should just lie back down." The skinny guy tells me.

A group of them push my shoulders down while the skinny guy fills a syringe.

"Get that away from me!"

The needle slides into my arm. I feel cold; then nothing.

I wake up on the couch in my office again, alone this time. I stumble to my feet and head out to the bar. I was out two days before, so that would have made it Tuesday. I look at my cell phone, it's Thursday. That's another two; I wonder if Charlie and Michael have tried to come in at all.

I unlock the front door and turn some of the lights on. I've still got a huge morphine hangover. At least I think it was morphine. Who knows what they injected me with.

A breeze comes from the doorway, fuck, I turn, expecting to see Kaufman, but he's not there. It's Kevin. He sits down at his usual spot at the bar. He gives me a nod as I set a bourbon in front of him. He doesn't say anything.

The phone rings, probably Charlie wanting to know if it's safe to come back.

"Hello?"

"This is Kaufman. You're driving me somewhere."

"You've got to be kidding me. After what you guys did to me?"

"Kid, you don't want to raise your voice at me."

"What about the rest of your goons, can't they do it?"

"They're taking care of something for me, won't be back until tonight."

I don't know how much longer I can do this, "When?"

"I'll be there in two hours." He hangs up.

I drop the phone onto the counter and sit down. I'm in way over my head. I haven't even done a real job for this guy yet and I've already been drugged, burned, and nearly killed. This is the biggest mistake of my—

"Why'd you get mixed up with this guy?"

What was that? I look down the bar to see Kevin looking at me.

He speaks more slowly this time, his face stays expressionless, "Why did you get mixed up with this guy?"

A bead of sweat rolls over my forehead, "I didn't have a choice. You were here that first night; you heard what he said about my debt."

"I heard it. You still had a choice."

"I think I've just hit a small patch where the dice haven't been rolling in my favor."

"Travis, first off, the dice never tumble your way. Look at this bar," he gestures over his shoulder, "Buying it was the worst move of your life."

I don't say anything because there's nothing to say; he's dead right.

"Second, a guy like Tony Kaufman loads the dice. They're always going to fall in his favor. If there's one thing I know, it's that you have to live your life the way YOU want to."

I shrug, "Everyone says that, Kevin, no one does."

"I do, always have. I have a heart murmur - that means the valves sometimes don't close all the way. Doctor's know it, nothing they can do about it. I could lie down for twenty minutes tonight and never wake up. That's why I live every day the way I want to. The things I did today, I'm happy with. I have to live like this because I could realistically die tomorrow."

Kevin stands up. "Do what YOU want to do, fuck everyone else." He finishes his drink and walks out the door.

Why didn't he say something when I was buying this place? But he's right, it's my life, I should live it my way.

The breeze from the door hits me again; I smile, "You forget something, Kevin?"

"Ahem."

Oh shit.

I see Kaufman staring at me from across the bar.

"Let's go kid."

"You said two hours?"

"Things change. Now let's go." He turns towards the door.

"I can't do this anymore, Mr. Kaufman. I'll pay you the money my uncle owed, it's just going to take some time."

Kaufman stops and turns around. "What was that?"

I swallow. "I have to quit."

Kaufman's eyes burn a hole through me. "You have to quit? You think it works just like that? You don't know SHIT, kid!" He slams his fists on the bar, "The only way out is if I take you out!"

"So you'd kill me for no apparent reason?"

"Oh, I've got plenty of reasons, so you think carefully, do you really want to give me another?"

"Never mind, Mr. Kaufman, I'll do it."

"No fucking kidding. Now let's GO."

I drive him to some factory near the south side of town. I wait in the car by myself for over an hour. What the hell did I get myself into? I wish Kevin would have said something that first night.

Here he comes now; he's got something in his arms. It looks like a bulky, rolled up rug.

"Open the trunk."

I hit the release. The car rocks and then he slams the trunk and sits down next to me.

"Let's go."

I start the engine, "Back to the bar?"

"No, take Route 83 and get off at Archer. There'll be a junkyard on your right."

The trip takes the better part of an hour. Kaufman stares straight forward the whole time, not saying a word.

I pull up to a locked front gate. "They're closed."

"Drive around back."

I follow a dirt road around and find an opening in the fence. I drive inside and stop behind two parked cars. The doors open and a group of familiar faces step out. I spot the skinny man who drugged me as Kaufman tells me to get out.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Witt." I don't know which of them said that. They all chuckle.

"Hello Gentleman," Kaufman smiles as he steps out of the car, "How was business today?"

"Went off without a hitch, boss."

Kaufman's smile widens, "Music to my ears."

The skinny guy nods towards me, "Why's the kid here?"

"Travis here," He puts an arm around my shoulder, "is joining us for a reason tonight."

I'm pretty eager to hear what that reason is.

"We owe him compensation for his car."

"What's wrong with my car?"

"It's staying here, there's some incriminating evidence in your trunk."

I think of the bulkiness in the rug.

"But don't worry, after tonight, your debt will be taken care of and you'll no longer have to worry about your bar's failing business."

I smile. "You're going to bring in some new customers?" That's the first comforting thing I've heard since meeting Kaufman.

He happily gestures towards the cars, "We can be on our way."

I walk towards the car; maybe I'll be all right with these guys.

"And kid,"

"Yeah?"

I feel the cold steel of his gun on the back of my head.

"You're out."

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