The 16mm Caper

Chapter 6

Freddy tossed his credit card on the tray, ignoring the waitress. "Why can't you get me a copy? Just dupe the DVD Harv made."

"It's not that simple, Freddy." Cheryl sucked noisily on the straw in her cocktail glass. "It's all secured in the company safe, we have a confidentiality clause on the contract we have to honour. I told you what it was about."

They had met at a local watering hole for drinks and to hear his terms regarding her part in getting the film.

Freddy gave her a wry look. "Listen, are we in this for some bookkeeping honour or are we in it for money - big money?"

"Gee Freddy, you know I'm all for the money. It's just that what you're asking isn't all that easy."

The waitress returned and stood waiting while Freddy signed the bill. She picked it up and muttered a sarcastic thanks, scowling at his piddly tip. A thunder of music blasted from the speakers on the stage beside the bar, and he gave her parting form a nasty glare. "Well unless you get at least a copy there won't be any money or any more Freddy." The last was said with arrogance that Cheryl felt like a smack.

Weaselly little snot! "I'll do what I can, Freddy." She finished her drink and pushed the glass away.

"Call me when you have it," he said, slipping off the stool and slapping the table with his hand like a judge convening court.

Cheryl watched him swagger out of the bar, his skinny frame poking out the back of his jacket. If it weren't for the fact that he was the only guy to even give her a second glance, she would tell him to kiss off and forget the whole deal. The reason for his attention suddenly struck home, and she blushed, feeling a depression settling on her like a blanket and she waved the waitress back, ordering another drink.

She looked about the room and studied the other couples, the singles - both sexes - and saw that none were looking at her. Story of her life. Overweight. Plain. Visually uninviting to anyone looking to hook up. Cheryl watched the band on the small stage as they finished their set and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

Her job was more important than her relationship with the Freddies of the world; the statement made her think hard about her job and her relationship, and she settled the decision in her mind with a large swallow of her fresh drink.

Out in the parking lot behind the bar, Freddy was hesitating over unlocking his car door, watching the woman approaching him from the shadows.

"Freddy Fisk?" The voice sounded smooth and unaccented.

"Maybe." He turned and leaned on the car, folding his arms with a deliberate insouciance. The woman came right up and stood so close that Freddy couldn't put his arms down and he suddenly felt very vulnerable. Hey!"

"Hey yourself, Freddy." Vera ran a hand down his side and stopped at the top of his thigh, pressing with her thumb.

Freddy grunted and went white. His knees tried to buckle, but Vera was pressed against him holding him up against the car. "Who's your source at Cinelab, Freddy?" She whispered into his face.

"Arggh -Jesus - oooh - stop . . ."

"Give me a name, Freddy."

"Bitch! How's tha- ARRRgggh!" The bolt of pain made spots appear before his eyes and he tried to push her away.

"Last chance, Freddy before you become a permanent cripple." Vera smiled, baring her teeth and flashing her eyes. "I don't mind either way actually."

"Ch- Cheryl - oh God - please . . ."

"Last name too, Freddy." The thumb rotated slightly and he gagged.

"Barber! Cheryl Barber . . . oh, shit . . ."