The Easy Way Out

19

Under George Milionis' watchful eye, a siege mentality was instituted at Simon's Used Cars. Whether it was Blake or James on the lot with a customer, Geo and Alex monitored their every interaction through the office window. Under intense scrutiny, Blake couldn't escape the feeling that he was acting suspiciously by trying to not act suspiciously.

One thing he knew for certain, don't look happy. Not a single person who worked for the Milionis organization looked happy. Not ever. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember anyone smiling, not a sincere smile anyway, not a smile that said life is awesome and I'm enjoying the hell out of this moment. And so, if he felt a smile coming on he shut it down so he wouldn't stand out and draw unwanted attention. Each morning when he got ready for work, he left his happiness and his smiles at home.

Throughout the week, Blake and James exchanged knowing looks each time an unfamiliar vehicle drove through the lot, down to the garage, and back out a few minutes later.

One afternoon, the old man got into his Cadillac, prepared to back out of his parking space when a heavy-duty pickup truck blocked him in. The driver hopped down from his cab leaving his truck running and paced to a Jeep Gladiator that caught his attention. Geo laid on the horn and shouted out the window, "Move that truck."

The driver glanced over his shoulder and hollered, "Chill, grandpa."

Blake and James watched wide-eyed as Alex charged out of the office, climbed into the guy's truck, and backed it out of the way.

The driver made the worst miscalculation of his life, chasing after his vehicle, shouting "Hey! Asshole. Get the hell outta my truck!"

It seemed unfathomable that an object the size of Alex could move so quickly and with surprising agility. He was out of the truck and on his remorseful victim before the man could backpedal. As Alex bulled forward, the loudmouth launched a pathetically ineffective punch. His mouth fell open when he was jerked off his feet, his airborne body driven headlong into the fender of his truck. Both skull and fender suffered impact damage. Alex yanked the dazed man off the asphalt by his hair then threw rapid-fire punches, flattening his nose, snapping his jaw, and creating craters where his cheekbones were once located. He dragged the unconscious victim across the pavement toward the rear of his vehicle then heaved him into the truck bed where he landed with a resounding CLANG. Alex climbed into the truck cab, cut the wheel hard, and sped out of the lot.

In shock from the explosion of violence they'd just witnessed, Blake and James could only nod when Geo slowed his Cadillac at the office and said, "You two. Hose down the lot here and clean up this mess."

Watching him drive out onto the street, James muttered, "You mind getting the hose? My lunch is coming up." He bolted for the bathroom.

Thursday morning, a bright yellow Corolla with spinning rims and an oversized carbon fiber spoiler rolled into the lot, speakers thumping rap music.

With wild eyes bulging in his crimson face, Uncle Geo burst out of the office. "Turn off that goddamn jungle music!" he roared.

The tinted driver's window went down revealing a sunken-eyed kid in the driver's seat. He began to pass a leather pouch out the window when Geo shouted, "Not here, you fuckin' imbecile! Down the garage. How many times I gotta tell you?"

Friday afternoon, just as Blake finished a sandwich at the office desk, Rachel called.

He answered, "Hey, Babe. How you?"

"Fine," she replied tersely.

"What's wrong?"

"Our landlady 'reminded me' rent's due today."