The Fall of Big Rob

Short Story

Sometimes you just know.  You just know that you got, got.  You’re had.  You’ve been played. 

 

My name is Robert Parker, aka Big Rob, and I messed up big.

 

It all started with a kiss.  Her name is Leslie Maria Bataglia.  Yes, the same Leslie Maria Bataglia that you are thinking about.  She is the daughter of the Don, Paul Bataglia; the guy who runs New York.

 

I was at Club New Wave.  The place was packed and the music was at full volume.  I always got there to get my mind right.  I got there around 6pm and was drinking whiskey sours non-stop till 10pm.  I get up to hit the john and in walks this beauty.  She is wearing this tight, full-length red dress with a slit that goes straight to Heaven.  She stops me in my tracks.

 

Now, my friends, I know who it is.  Maybe I am drunk.  Maybe I am stupid.  Either way, I walk up to Leslie.  I offer her a drink.  She says yes and we get a private table. She proceeds to ask me if I know her old man.  Of course, I do; everyone does.

 

After her third drink, she tells me about him hitting her.  She says he uses a belt.  She says he uses brass knuckles.  She says he verbal berates her over everything.  She says she lives in fear for her life.  I am beyond mad.  I am blowing steam out the top of my head.  I am ready to scream.  She pulls me in close and whispers, “Help me.”

 

Now, I have a history of being a violent fella; I am also fond of betting on the ponies.  I have spent time up-state for various aggressive activities. I have punched cops, beaten guys to death with bats, and I have been known to make people talk while holding them out windows and then dropping to their death.  I understand violence and I respect it.  Just not to women, and especially not this sexy, women.  Knowing all that it should be no surprise when I kiss her on the lips, walk away to the john, and say, “I got you, baby.”

 

That night I crashed out hard.  I had been drinking hard, and I needed it.  When I woke-up, I felt like a freight train had just ran me over.  I took a shower, changed clothes, drank some coffee, and decided I needed a walk.

 

I left my apartment and walked to near-by park, the whole time analyzing last night.  Did I really hear what she said?  Did I kiss her?  Did I really say, “I got you, baby.”?  What am I going to do?  I know I am in a mess but I can’t back out; I can’t back down.  I need some help.

 

When I get back home I get on the phone and I call my main man, Jeff Wilson.  I call Jeff, J Dub.  He agreed to have dinner.

 

J Dub and I have been friends since birth. We ran the streets from day one.  He backed me in every fight I got in and I made sure he didn’t get in any fights.  When we were 12 J Dub was jumped by five guys after going to the movies. He knew the guys and didn’t want to know about it; he avoided me so he could take care of it.  He went to see them at the pool hall and handle it with a gun; I got word about it from a friend and was able to cut him off as the pass.  I snatched the gun from him, and walked right to pool hall and beat the five guys with my bare hands.  I couldn’t let him get in trouble; he is the brains.  He is the thinker. He got out of the streets, but never forgot the lessons; or me.  He went to New York University and is known investing on Wall Street. 

 

We met up at Donnie’s Pizzeria. This was our spot in high school. We still have booth there, whenever we want.  I walk-in and he is already eating.  I sit down and yell for Donnie to bring me a Bud Light.  When Donnie brings it, I give him a big hug and a pat on the back.  J Dub can tell I am nervous, but just keeps eating.  I sit, and take a long gulp of beer.  I sit back and tell what is going on.  J Dub looks me dead in my eye and says, “Run you idiot, and don’t ever come back here again.  The Batagalia’s are no joke.  Don’t do it.”  I get up, smile, and say, “Thanks J Dub.  Big Rob don’t run from nothing.”  I sealed my fate.

 

I didn’t go home like I should have, and I definitely didn’t run.  I went straight to the pawn shop by my apartment, and told the owner I wanted a loaded M9 pistol, 3 more fully loaded magazines and, no questions.  After I beat him and his punk son half to death, I took what I needed.  I walked straight to Don Bataglia’s house, with murder in my heart.

 

I got to the house, knocked on the door, and just started blasting.  The first two guards each got two in the chest.  The butler coming down the spiral stairs got one in the head.  The maid cleaning the floor got pushed down.  I ran upstairs, still blasting.  When I reached the top, BANG!!!!

 

I started to see black, then fuzz, and then clear.  Leslie was standing over me, smoke bellowing from her gun.  Don Paul Bataglia stood beside her, with his arms around her waist.  As I start to go cold I say, “Why?”

 

She laughs, kisses her husband, and says, “You gambled, and you lost over $100,000.  No one steals from us.”  He adds, “I know you eye my lady all the time.  You are an easy mark.  You are too dumb to see the big picture.  Don’t gamble what you don’t have, and never steal from me.”

 

As the World got darker around me, and I got colder I realized that no good deed goes unpunished.  Your past is never far away.  I fought hard all my life.  I stayed true to my word.  My mistake was I trusted her.  I messed up.  Good night World.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Another amazing story. This would be a good book. The character comes alive and the story line is very good. I like the honest tone and thoughts in the chapter. Mess with the bad ladies, end up in a mess. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote

[JBoone]

Thank you. I appreciate it.

[Coyote Poetry]

This a interesting character and it would make a very good book. You are welcome.

[JBoone]

I will try and see what I can do.

[V]

This is very entertaining and I like the way it's written. Your stories provide something that differs from your poetry, allow you to express yourself even more creative in my mind. Nice one.

[Saad]

Excellent narration, grabbing the audience with full force. However it is my duty to add a minor mishap that I felt as a reader that the sentences were short, they made sense but were short that somehow hindered the reading flow. An increase in length of the sentences will make the reading much better. Anyways it was a good read all around and was resembled real life to a great extent.
Exceptional work.

[JBoone]

Thank you so much. The short sentences were designed to set a tone.

[Saad]

great job.
(Y)

[barleygirl]

Your writing about violence (which I normally do not want to read or see or think about) is well done with a balance between explaining the physical manifestations of the life, but also revealing the heart of the thing. Your cool, even tone belies the passion that's really beneath the actions. A story like this make me wish I'd taken out a few of my worst tormentors instead of just walking away without a word.

[GalaxyGhost]

This is an interesting story! It's captivating and I have to say my favorite line from your story is "Don't gamble what you don't have." That stuck out!
Also, I did notice a few things to consider. With numbers, if it is a small one like in paragraph eleven and thirteen, it would look better written out. With time and money, it should be okay written as a number instead of a word. Some of the shorter sentences can be combined, but that's just me.
Overall, the important part is the story being told and I really enjoyed reading it. It has an increasing intensity between the protagonist and antagonist that pulls readers in. Awesome job!

[JBoone]

Thank you. I appreciate it. Great advice.

[GalaxyGhost]

You're welcome!