Old Warehouse

Four men meet in an abandoned warehouse, three standing near the center. Johnny in the middle, Frank to the right and Ricky to the left. Entering the warehouse was William, carrying a duffle bag. William stopped ten feet from the three men, flicked a cigarette away.

The warehouse smelled of mold, water dripped from the ceiling, from the recent rain, cold wind blew in through the broken windows.

“Do you have it?” Johnny asked.

“Yes.” William answered, lifting the duffle bag.

“Where did you find it?”

William lowered the bag. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Johnny’s expression stayed constant, expressing nothing.

“Well I prefer to keep that a secret. Do you have the money?”

“Yes but not here. It is in a storage locker at the bus station. We will give you the key when we have it and know where you got it.” Johnny kept his the cadence and rhythm of his voice almost constant.

The two men stared at each other for minutes. Johnny’s expression very briefly changed, reveling frustration, before going back to blank. He took a keys out of his jacket pocket turned Frank and said: “Get the money and bring it here.” Frank took the key and walked to the warehouse door.

“Now,” Johnny said, reviling nothing in his voice. “Where did you find it?”

“Is it really that important to you?” William asked in annoyed tone.

“Yes.” Johnny’s voice finally changed, becoming aggressive.

William laughed. “Well, okay. I found it in an alley near the Korean grocers on 25th, it was near the body of an old hooker.” William looked down, “Its a pity really,” he looked back at Johnny. “she gave good head.” William laughed

“Old hooker? Julia?” Johnny’s voice returned to its rhythm and cadence.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Good.” Johnny paused, inhaled, then: “Shoot him!” Johnny’s voice and face expressing his irritation.

Ricky pulled out a gun.

William turned to run, at the door stood Frank, aiming at William. The two men shot William, he fell face down, bleeding. Frank walked up to William, rolled William over with his foot. William was still alive, coughing blood. Frank aimed at William’s head, looked away and pulled the trigger. Ricky looked at Frank, “Wuss.” Ricky called Frank, “Shut up!” Frank replied.

Johnny picked up the bag, a cigarette in his mouth. “Fuckin’ idiot.” He said in a low annoyed voice, referring to William. He lit the cigarette with a Zippo lighter, took the cigarette out, blowing smoke. He looked at Frank and: “Give me back my keys.”