Chapter 5

At a quarter to six there was a heavy knock on the door. Stoker was playing Peek-A-Boo with Yertle on the couch and I was watching a show on rhinos on the Public Broadcast Network. When the knocking sounded I got off the couch and looked through the door’s peephole.

In the hallway stood the tall, fat, blood-shot-eyed, long dirty bearded Tucker Smalley. Beside him stood a young, college-aged girl, probably his new runner. I opened the door and let them in.

“Hi, Tucker,” I said, closing the door. I always dealt with Tucker if Stoker needed a favor. If I didn’t Tucker would always distract him with drugs.

“Hello,” Tucker replied. He walked to the couch, understudy in tow, and said to Stoker, “What’s with the baby?”

Stoker looked up and said, “Oh, it’s my sister’s kid. We’re babysitting tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Tucker sat beside my friend, leaving the girl standing.

“Do you want a seat?” I asked her.

“I’m alright,” she said with a nervous smile.

“Anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a beer,” Tucker ordered.

“We don’t have any alcohol, Tuck,” Stoker said. “Soda or water are your choices.”

“I’ll pass,” the drug dealer replied.

“Me too,” the girl agreed.

“I understand that you need my runner?” Tucker got down to business.

“Yeah, man,” Stoker nodded.

“I am very protective of my employees. What is it you need her for?”

“See, Lee, we need her to deliver a letter for us.”

Tucker glared suspiciously. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

Bouncing a giggling Yertle on his knee, Stoker said, “We’re in a tight spot here, man. See, there are cops swarming the person we need to get the message to. I just got outta the local bin for pills and you know how they always try to pin stuff on the newly released.”

Tucker nodded slowly and asked, “Why are there police? What’s going on?”

“Some kids keep vandalizing her house, Tuck. The cops are trying to catch them in the act.”

Tucker was silent and the only sound was Yertle’s gurgling for several moments. Finally the dealer said, “Fine. I only let my runner go to you because you’re a good friend, Stoker.”

“Thanks, Tuck,” Stoker said. He held his hand out for Tucker to shake, but the man held back.

“Hold on, where are my pills?”

“Oh yeah,” Stoker opened the side table’s drawer and pulled out three tins of Grandma’s House. “My own blend. Enjoy, Roy.”

Tucker opened one tin and examined the pills.

“What is it?” He asked.

“A combo of CP, MY and Pep-Ups. It gives you a relaxed alertness for several hours.”

“Hmm,” tucker seemed interested. “Chewable or swallow?”

“It’s an easy dry swallow,” Stoker assured him. “A mint-oil lubricated gel capsule.”

“Very good,” he took one from his open tin and handed it to his runner. “Take it,” he commanded. “Tell us how it is.”

The girl nodded and swallowed the pill. A devoted follower blindly obeying. A chill went down my back.

*

A few hours later, after the runner, Abby, succumbed to the Grandma’s House’s effect, Tucker and Stoker shook hands.

“She’ll deliver the letter tomorrow afternoon.” Tucker informed us. “I’ll call you when she does.” And with that, without a goodbye, they left.

I locked the door behind them and sat on the couch next to Stoker, a sleeping Yertle in my arms.

“That went well,” Stoker said, turning on the TV.

“He didn’t ask about any side effects.” I mentioned.

“So?”

“He had Abby take one of those pills without knowing what it would do to her.”

“She’ll be fine, Cline. You know that.”

“Yeah, but Tucker doesn’t.” I said.

Stoker stopped flipping through channels and looked at me. “Look, man, Tuck’s not a good guy. I know that. The only reason I even keep in touch with him is because he has resources. I know each and every one of his runners and periodically check in on them.”

“You do?” I asked, amazed.

“Yeah, man. They’re just kids. They need to be watched over. Trust me, they’re alright.”

“Okay,” I nodded. I trusted him.

“Anyway,” He began channel surfing again. “This new runner, Abby, she seems like the right person for the job.”

“How so?” I asked.

“First off, she’s a girl. No one would ever suspect a girl of kidnapping. Secondly, she’s not into drugs.”

“How do you know that?”

“She looked clean. You know, the straight type, library-girl type. If she’s at all into drugs she’s not too far into them, but I don’t think she is.”

“Why not? She is one of Tucker’s runners.”

“See, Lee, that doesn’t mean anything. Tuck’s runners are there to deal with any matter he can’t do himself, not just drug stuff. Plus, she was wary about taking the GH.”

“It looked to me like she was willing enough,” I said.

“Nah, man, there was that look of ‘should I?’ in her eyes. The only reason she did was she needs the money Tucker pays. Who knows, maybe he’s paying for her college.”

I nodded. Tucker was loaded with drug money. The only reason Stoker didn’t ask him for any was because he’d automatically be indebted to the dealer. Stoker had a firm stance against working for Tucker.

“Well, Mel,” Stoker said, standing and stretching. “There’s nothing good on TV. I’m hitting the hay.”

“Night, Stoker,” I said.

“Night, man.”

 

*

I was in the middle of writing down paper and office supply orders when my phone rang.

“Anderson Perry Office Supplies, Order Division. How may I help you?”

“Hiya, Maya,” Stoker said on the other line. His mellow voice told me he was on something. “Gotta tell you something, man.”

“What’s up, Stoker?” I asked.

“Dig this, man: Tuck just called me and said Abby delivered our message. I highly suggest you turn on the news.”

“Sure thing. How’s Yertle?”

“Sleeping like a baby. Oh man, turn on NTC right now.”

I flicked on the small portable television on my desk and turned it to the National Television Channel. On the screen, in grainy black and white, was Yertle’s mother.

“…had been delivered by a non-descript girl this afternoon,” An off-screen reporter was saying. “If you’re just joining just we have a new development in the Missing Baby Leroy case. The mother of the infant was given a letter today by a young woman, whose description eludes authorities. The note implores Leroy’s mother to pay one million dollars for the return of her son.”

The screen went to previous footage of the mother.

“It’s not a threatening note,” she said. “These people seem as though they aren’t monsters, but people thrust into a situation. If they are watching I want them to know that I miss my sweet little boy and want him home.”

“Catch more flies with honey, man,” Stoker said into the phone.

“I suppose so,” I replied. “But she didn’t say she was going to give us the money. How sure are you that she will?”

“Positively sure, man. Trust me, everything’s going to work out.” With that, Stoker hung up the phone, leaving me sitting at my desk staring at the weather forecast for the next week.

 

Reviews

[spence]

Stokers resourcefulness and spirit of independence are highlighted for me in this chapter. He is a complex character that defies classification- his unmoving integrity is a contradiction to his criminal tendencies- what is initially seen as irrational insanity is countered by his straight talking genius and self assuredness.
The way he dealt with Tucker and took everything that occured in his stride is something I can relate to within a scenario which, in my experience, is a very realistic interpretation of people of this nature in this type of backdrop.
A point of note that i thought was exceptional was the way you switched scenes in this chapter- the phone call to work was smooth, subtle, simple and very skillfully crafted. Nice, spence