INSTRUCTION FROM THE BIG MAN
Jack Bludis

[21 may 2002—proofed for #bookz]

Even if you were blind, dumb and deaf, the vibrations of the jukebox and the jostling of the punks would let you know you were in a bar, Kenny thought.
From across the dance floor Lana, the Big Man's wife, looked into his eyes. She wasn't deaf or dumb, but she didn't talk very much, which was probably why Walter kept her around so long.
Kenny was at the club most nights. Lana was there maybe once a month, and she was always with her girl friends, but tonight was perfect. He went big time on the eye work, and she was looking right back at him.
For almost a year, Kenny had this same kind of desire, and tonight, she had it too. It was perfect.
Lana and her girlfriends were all painted up, but dancing only with each other. They were all married to made guys, and they were shaking off the cowboys. 
Without instructions from the Big Man, Kenny would never have done more than look at her, but tonight he had very special instructions. What he did tonight might not get him made, but it would move him to the front of the line.
Individual voices screamed over the others, challenging the blare of the jukebox. When Kenny was certain the other women were looking away, he looked at Lana hard and tilted his head toward the back door. 
Lana didn't acknowledge him at first, but she was cool that way, and it was the exact reason Walter-the-Man had to get rid of her. 
She was far too smart for her own good, and sooner or later, she would hook up with somebody like Kenny, and Walter couldn't have that. 
What Walter wanted was for her to go for Kenny himself, so Kenny would take care of the whole situation for him.
Two of her girl friends rose to dance, and the brunette who remained said something to Lana. Lana shook her head, but she kept the grin that he knew was meant for him. 
As soon as the brunette slipped off to the ladies' room, Lana nodded in Kenny's direction. This time she was the one who tilted her head toward the back door.
Kenny nodded and looked away.
Walter had given very specific instructions: let him think she was seducing him and then take care of her.
"She's too damn sociable," Walter said when Kenny asked him why.
"But I'd think--"
"Don't think, just do it," Walter said. They were the instructions from the big man. 
Kenny sucked air through his teeth, filling his lungs, and getting excited all over again. He hated to do the last part, because he wanted her so damn bad, yet he would do exactly as Walter said.
He took a deep breath, and eased his way through the crowd. He hated it because he had looked at her so longingly for so many months. Now that she responded, it was a shame to kill her. She was beautiful and flirtatious, and he understood what the boss wanted.
"Watch where you're going?" said some college kid.
Any other night, he would react, but tonight he wouldn't make a scene because he could not afford to be noticed. 
"Excuse me," he said to the kid, and he kept moving to keep himself anonymous.
He made a quick turn away from the crowd and through the curtains, and he hurried the length of the hallway. He pushed the panic bar and stepped into the alley, and he scared the hell out of a couple of rats of the four-legged variety.
He fired up a Marlboro with his disposable lighter and inhaled deeply to overwhelm the stench of the alley. Then he leaned back against the brick wall and waited. 
And he waited.
He got down to half of the Marlboro and she still didn't show up. He waited some more, and he wondered if she was messing with his mind. 
He damn sure hoped not. If she was, Walter would be maximum disappointed, and he would blame the whole mess on Kenny.
"Damn," he said, and he whipped the Marlboro to the cracked concrete. Without stepping it out, he started for the door. Just as he reached for the latch, it banged open, and gorgeous Lana stepped into the alley.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey yourself," she said, with a little smirk.
It was such a damn shame, he thought as he moved forward to put his arms around her.
"You get right down to it, don't you?" she said.
"I been a long time waiting for this." 
"Yeah, me too," she whispered. 
He leaned forward to kiss her and pushed his hand under her skirt and over her thighs.
"Not so quick."
"I didn't get you wrong did I? I mean we been lookin' at each other for months."
"You got me right, baby. You got me damn right." She wet her lips and gave him the Lana smile.
He slipped his hands behind her back and moved his mouth toward hers, but she turned her face away.
"What's the matter?" he said. 
She said nothing, but she backed away and punched him hard in the stomach. He doubled over in. Then she twisted her wrist and she backed away. 
"Bullshit!" he said.
Her face was different now. A smile, yes, but a snarl too. A grin, a smirk, whatever it was, it wasn't sexy, but angry and vicious. 
He groped forward, but she already backed out of his reach, and only now did he see the knife in her hand.
"What?" he said.
"I don't like the way you look at me, and neither does Wally," she said, and she sounded insulted. 
She raised her nose, and looked down as he stumbled to his knees. 
"I always wanted to kill somebody, and you were just the perfect asshole."
He tried to crawl with his body still upright, but he moved only one knees-worth with blood pouring through his fingers and onto the surface of the alley. He rolled forward and struck his chin on the concrete. Then he eased to his side. He clawed at the blade that had broken off in his stomach, but all he did was draw more guts. He lay in the slop that trickled down the middle of the alley, and he looking up. 
"I thought we had . . ."
"We had nothing." she said.
She reached into her purse. Until now he didn't even noticed her latex gloves, and he wondered if putting them on was what had taken her so long. He rolled his eyes up at her, and tried to speak, but no words would come.
She went to one knee beside him and he saw that she now held something else in her hand.
Oh, God, a Baby Beretta. "No! N--"
His head slumped with no thoughts and only the flash of a dream.
* * * * *
Lana rose from the alley and slipped the Beretta into her purse. She looked down at him as she peeled away the latex gloves and stuffed them on top of the Beretta. 
"You won't look at me that way anymore, you bastard."
* * * * *
"How did you like it, babe?" Walter said when Lana came home.
"I liked it just fine."
"Where'd you put your cover clothes."
"Dumpster on the West Side."
"The Baby B?"
"Can't I keep it?"
"You know better than that."
Walter, still virile and tough even with a paunch, reached out with his palm open. "I'll get you another one. That one's gotta go. You know how that is."
"I guess," she said.
With a little grin, she laid the Beretta delicately in his hand. 
Walter slid the Baby B to the night table. Then he slid his arms around her and pulled her to him.
"I want to do that again real soon," she said, and she brought her mouth hard to his.
"Mmm-hmm," he went, assuring her.