Chapter twenty
Sean turned off I-94 onto I-23 and followed it north to Flint. He followed Weasel’s directions to a decrepit building in a run down neighborhood. There was a neon sign over steps to the basement that read “Jolly’s Billiards”. He parked by the curb in front of the railing to the stairs, got out and pushed the lock button on his key ring. The stairwell was littered with trash and smelled of urine and vomit. “Nice place,” Sean thought. He pushed open the door and was slightly surprised to find it open. It was twenty minutes before two.
Inside he walked over to the bar and ordered a Bud draft. He said to the fat man behind the counter who looked anything but jolly, “I’m looking for a little guy named Weasel.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He told me to meet him here.”
“You got a name?”
“Proudfoot.”
“You do some time in a house named for a fish?”
“Cactus.”
“Huh?”
“La Tuna. It’s Mex for a kinda cactus.”
“Okay professor he’s back in that corner on table twelve.”
Sean picked up his beer and walked back to table twelve.
“Hey Weasel. How they hangin?”
“Hey Sean when’d you get out?”
“Week or so.”
“So you play pool?”
“No. They didn’t have many pool halls on the reservation.”
“So, we gonna go up north?”
“Nah, I’m thinkin Florida, the weathers better and I know a guy down there got somethin I want.”
“This somethin worth money?”
“Oh yeah. More money than you’ve ever seen.”
“Well hell lets go get it then. I just hope that Klan don’t get me. I hear they hang folk my color.”
“I think that was awhile back. Sides they fuck with me, it’d be the last guy they fuck with.”
When they left the pool hall Weasel said, “Nice wheels man, where you get this fine ride.?”
“Used to belong to a guy what don’t need it no more.”
They drove to an all night diner, had a sandwich and coffee and then went to Weasel’s room. It was a single room over a bar with a sink and a toilette. The toilette had a plastic shower curtain hung on a circular bar for privacy. The curtain, like the sink and toilette, hadn’t been cleaned for many years.
“Nice place you got here Weasel. Looks like you been doin real good.”
“Thanks.”
The sarcasm went completely over Weasel’s head. Sean figured Weasel wasn’t the type to appreciate subtle, or even not so subtle humor.
Oh well Sean said, we won’t be here long anyway. We’ll head for Florida first thing in the morning.”
The next morning before they left Weasel asked Sean if he had a gun.
“Yeah, why?”
“Guy down the hall owes me some money, tried to stiff me. Sides he deals some crack. I figure he might have more than he owes me.”
Sean went over to the table, picked up a liter bottle of coke, dumped what remained down the sink and said, “Let’s go see this guy.”
Weasel knocked on the door and a voice replied groggy, “Yeah.”
“It’s Weasel I need some stuff.”
“Just a minute. Jesus Christ, it’s only nine o’clock.”
Sean stood out of sight of the peek hole and when the door opened, he shoved the gun in the guy's face. Weasel told him he wanted his money. The guy looked at the gun and said, “Sure weasel no problem.”
He reached in his pocket, took out his wallet and counted out a hundred dollars. He handed the money to Weasel and went to put the wallet back in his pocket.
“Give me the rest of it.”
He pulled the rest of the bills out and handed them to Weasel.
“You won’t get away with this.”
“Where’s the rest of it?”
“I don’t know what you mean, that’s all I got.”
Sean crammed the coke bottle over the barrel of his gun and shot him in the knee. The shot made a noise like an air rifle, but the man on the floor was much louder. Sean walked over and pointed the gun down at his head.
“Stop fuckin around asshole where’s the money?”
“It’s in the desk.”
Sean pulled the trigger. The desk was locked but it was a cheap lock. There was two thousand dollars in the desk. Along with what was in his wallet, they had Two thousand two hundred and sixty five dollars. Sean put the two thousand in his pocket and said, “Let’s go to Florida.”
Weasel wasn’t too happy about Sean sticking most of the money in his own pocket, but he didn’t say anything.