ClownFellas (20 page)

Hats Rizzo had so many hats on his head that he could barely fit into his car. The hat on the top of the stack was more like a big green sleeping bag with a rim at the bottom. It stretched into the backseat when Rizzo took the wheel.

“This is your car?” Pinky asked.

“What? You got a problem with my car?”

It was a clown station wagon with a
HANDICAP
sticker on the window. The engine popped and churgled, rumbling Pinky's whole body as he sat in the passenger seat.

“No, it just doesn't seem like the kind of car I'd imagine you driving.”

“Shut up. It used to be my mom's car, okay?”

“Can't you afford to get a better one?”

“Can't you afford to shut your face?”

Hats hit the gas.

“So where's this prick live?” Hats asked.

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know? Weren't you in the same crew?”

“Yeah, but we really didn't spend much time together. I don't think he liked me.”

“Great…” Hats shook his head. “How the heck are we supposed to find him then?”

“Last time I saw him he was on cleanup duty at my mom's establishment, but he would've finished that a long time ago. He could be anywhere now.”

Hats exhaled through his teeth, then pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket.

“Who are you calling?” Pinky asked as Hats went through the contacts on his phone and hit the
CALL
button.

“A friend,” Hats said, then he paused and thought about it for a second. “Well, not exactly a friend. He's kind of an asshole, but he might be willing to help.”

Hats put his phone on speaker and set it on the dash. The engine rumbled the phone so much that it nearly bounced out the window.

“Yeah, what?” said the guy on the other end.

Pinky recognized the voice. It was a friend of Spotty's who went by the name of Jackie the Grump.

“Hey Jackie, it's me, Hats. I need a favor.”

There was a loud groan on the end. Hats yelled, “And don't hang up, you prick!”

Another groan. Jackie sounded like he was on a toilet with the phone cradled in the crook of his neck.

“What do you want, Hats? I'm busy over here.”

“Listen, ya lousy mook. I got a black joker today. That crazy bastard Pogo is aiming to whack me.”

Jackie laughed into the phone.

“You think that's funny?” Hats yelled.

“Kinda,” Jackie said.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you, too. I didn't call to cheer you up. I need some help over here.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“I need you to help me find Nicky Bowtie,” Hats said. “I'm going to kill that son of a bitch once I get my hands on him.”

“You can't kill Nicky Bowtie. He still owes me fifty bucks. Wait until he pays me back.”

“Screw your fifty bucks. The guy's a rat.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. Anyway, I need you to tell me where he lives.”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Because you're a goddamn shylock. You know where everyone lives.”

“Yeah, but not that guy. He moved a while back.”

“And you didn't bother updating your address book?”

Jackie shrugged so loud they could hear it through the phone. “I've been busy.”

“What the hell kind of loan shark are you?”

“So you're going to insult me now?”

“Just find out. Call around.”

“When? Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“Can't this wait?” Jackie asked. “I've got stuff to do.”

“No, it can't wait. What stuff?”

“You know, stuff. I've got company over. The mother-in-law wants me to bake her some snickerdoodles. I make the best snickerdoodles.”

“Are you shitting me? My life is on the line and you're blowing me off for snickerdoodles?”

“They're really good.”

“Just get me the damn address. Talk to Blue Nose. Buggy Buttons. Whoever.”

“Why don't you do it yourself?”

Hats raised his voice. “Because they probably all want me dead, you prick! You're the only clown I know who's too damn lazy to care whether I'm a rat or not.”

“Wait, you're a rat? I thought you said Nicky Bowtie was the rat.”

Hats wanted to strangle him through the phone.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Hats asked.

Jackie let out another groan. “I don't know…maybe. I'll see what I can do.”

Hats shook his head and said, “I'm going to kill him,” beneath his breath.

“Hey, did you hear what happened to Spotty?” Jackie asked.

“No, what happened to Spotty?”

“He was shot up pretty bad. He's in critical condition at the hospital now. They think he'll probably pull through, but still…”

When Pinky heard that, he sat straight up. “Spotty's still alive?”

“Who the heck's that?” Jackie asked.

“It's Smiles,” Hats said.

“Wait…did you have me on speakerphone this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

“Goddamn it, Hats. You know how much I hate being put on speakerphone when I don't know I'm on speakerphone.”

“So what?”

“I thought we were having a private conversation between the two of us,” Jackie said. “It feels weird knowing someone else was listening in the whole time. And what are you doing with Pinky anyway? I heard he's a rat.”

Hats had reached the limits of his patience. “Just get me his address, ya mook.”

Before Jackie could groan again at the request, Hats closed his phone and put it back in his pocket. As he shoved the phone in his pants, Pinky thought about Nicky Bowtie. Nick was a master pickpocket. The guy could swipe the glasses from your face without you ever noticing.

“Turn around,” Pinky said.

“What? Why?”

“I think I know where Nicky Bowtie is.”

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“He's going to hawk some jewelry.”

As they sped down the road in the rattling station wagon, Pinky said, “Nick always goes to the same pawnbroker for everything he swipes. And knowing him, he'd head there immediately after he finished the job at Rainbow Gardens.”

The reason Pinky was missing his engagement ring wasn't because he'd lost it. After Pinky got the black joker card, Nicky knew the kid wasn't going to need the ring anymore. He'd picked his pocket while everyone was in shock. It was just the kind of stunt Bowtie would pull, being the snake that he was.

“You sure about this?” Hats asked. “Even if that was his plan it probably would only take him twenty minutes for the broker to examine the goods and fork over the cash.”

Pinky nodded. “He'll be there. I know exactly how long it would have taken him to get the job done with only the Moretti brothers for help. He'll have gotten out of there less than an hour ago. If we hurry we'll be able to catch him before he leaves.”

“I hope you're right,” Hats said.

But Pinky was wrong. Nicky Bowtie hadn't even shown up yet. Two blocks away from the pawnbroker, they passed Nick on the street. He was walking down the sidewalk, straightening his bow tie and whistling without a care in the world.

“There he is!” Pinky yelled.

Hats slammed on the brakes and pulled the station wagon up on the sidewalk, blocking Nick's path. Bowtie froze in his tracks.

“Hey Nick,” Hats said, sticking his head out the window. “You're just the prick I've been looking for.”

Bowtie stepped back. He didn't know what they wanted until he saw Pinky get out of the passenger-side door.

“Pink?” Nick's voice stuttered. “What are you doing here?”

He played dumb but he knew exactly why they were looking for him.

“Get your ass over here, you filthy rat,” Rizzo said as he stepped out of his car, trying to pull the enormous green hat off his head.

“Oh, shit…” Nick turned and ran.

Rizzo continued pulling his hat but he couldn't separate it from the others.

“Damn it,” he said. Then he turned to Pinky. “Get that son of a bitch!”

Pinky took off after the man with the giant bow tie as Rizzo gave up on removing his hat and got back into his car. Nick ran through a family of clowns coming out of a restaurant, throwing a grandfather to the ground in order to get past. Pinky went around the group, avoiding a vanilla mother carrying a half-clown baby. It widened the gap between them by at least five yards.

Hats roared up the road in his station wagon, passing Pinky and catching up to the clown in the bow tie. The vehicle seemed like it was about to fall to pieces as he cut Nicky off on the sidewalk, but he was able to block the clown's path. As Pinky closed in, Nick scanned the area. The nearby alley was blocked by a fence. He had no choice but to climb it.

“Stop him,” Hats yelled.

But Pinky wasn't fast enough. He grabbed Nick's ankle before he got over, but Nicky was able to kick out of his grasp and jump to the other side.

Hats grumbled and pulled back into traffic.

“I'll cut him off on the other side,” Hats said as he sped off.

Pinky climbed over the fence and chased Nicky into the alley.

“Get back, Pink!” Bowtie cried, tugging on something in his belt as he ran. “I don't want to hurt you.”

It was a handgun that Nick was trying to reach, but it was stuck in his belt loop. Knowing Nicky, the gun was probably loaded with his bullet of choice: depressors, aka sad bullets. Not designed to kill, but to put the target in a state of depression so severe that it usually resulted in suicide. They were very useful for suppressing targets, obtaining information—interrogations always went smoothly when the person being questioned was too depressed to care about anything anymore—and getting rid of enemies in such a way that the cops would never suspect foul play. It was just the kind of clown weapon that a snake like Nicky would prefer to use.

Pinky's gun was in his ankle holster; he didn't have time to get it while running. He picked up the pace. While Nick was struggling to remove his piece, Pinky charged him and tackled him to the ground before he could get the weapon free.

“You son of a bitch!” Pinky punched him in the face, cutting his knuckles open on the clown's teeth.

Nicky spit blood and giggled.

“You look pissed off, Pink,” Nick said. “I think it's the first time I've seen you without a smile on your face.”

Pinky punched him again. Then he pulled out a knife and held it to the rat's throat.

“Why'd you do it, Nicky?” Pinky asked, shoving his blade closer to clown's neck. “You're supposed to be one of us. Why'd you flip?”

Nick gasped as Pinky held the blade tighter against his throat. He was more in danger of being choked to death than having his throat slit.

“I didn't flip, Pink. You did. Everyone knows that
you're
the rat.”

“Oh yeah?” Pinky ripped open his shirt. “Is this the reason you never take this thing off?”

Pinky grabbed Nick's bow tie. It was connected to a wire. He cut it from his neck. Then he smashed it against the asphalt. It didn't seem like it was on at the moment, but Pinky couldn't be too careful.

“Yeah, so what?” Nicky said. “I didn't have a choice. You would've done the same.”

Pinky picked him up off the ground and shoved him against the wall. Nick was nearly a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than Pinky, but the kid threw him around like a stack of pancakes.

“No, I wouldn't have,” Pinky said.

“Why? Because you follow a bullshit code of honor? Or maybe you think you'll lose your worthless slut of a girlfriend if you rat out her family?”

“You don't talk about Taffy that way.”

Nicky laughed through his bloody teeth. “You're actually in love with her, aren't you? That spoiled brat of a whore wasn't even a good lay.”

As Pinky let go of Nick to throw another punch, the rat ducked out of the way. Pinky's knuckles collided with the brick wall, leaving a fist-shaped blood mark. Nicky pushed him to the ground and ran.

“Hey, Pink,” Nicky said, turning back. “If you love her that much, then you'll probably want this back.”

He held up the engagement ring. As Pinky charged him, Nick threw it across the alley, aiming for a storm drain. Pinky's eyes widened. He didn't think. He just acted. Instead of going after Nick, Pinky ran in the opposite direction. He leapt into the air and landed face-first into the storm drain. The ring went through the grate, but he managed to catch it with the tip of his little finger. His eyes locked on the rainbow-colored gem as the ring dangled off his pinkie.

It took three minutes of careful coordination for Pinky to pull the jewelry out of the grate using only his little finger. By the time he had it in his hands, Nick was long gone. Pinky went to the end of the alley just as Hats pulled up to the curb.

“What happened?” Hats yelled. “Where is he?”

Pinky looked around. Then sighed, rubbing his bloody knuckles.

“He got away,” Pinky said.

Then Hats hit the steering wheel so hard the air bag blew up in his face.

They spent the entire night driving around, looking for Nicky Bowtie. He was no longer on the streets. They knew Nick was going to play it safe. He already knew they were after him. All he had to do was wait until their time ran out and Mr. Pogo whacked them, and he'd have nothing to worry about.

Jackie the Grump eventually got back to Hats with Nicky's address, but no one was there when they showed up. Hats took the liberty of raiding his refrigerator and urinating on his bed, but it wasn't much of a consolation prize.

“So what now?” Hats asked, flipping through Nicky's vintage record collection and smashing the vinyl disks against the wall one by one.

“We wait for him to show up,” Pinky said. “He's got to come home eventually.”

“I can't believe we let him slip through our fingers.” Hats removed his massive hat to reveal a heavy machine gun. He aimed it at Nicky's seventy-inch plasma screen television and opened fire, turning the rat's entertainment center into plastic Swiss cheese.

After an hour of waiting around, Pinky's phone rang.

“It's Nick,” Pinky said, holding up the phone.

“Are you serious?”

Pinky answered.

“Hello?” Pinky asked.

“Hey, Pink, how's it going?” Nicky asked, his voice friendly and chipper, as if nothing had just happened between them at all.

“Where are you?” Pinky asked.

“You don't have to know where I am,” Nick said. “I'm not at my apartment, as you've probably found out by now.”

“Yeah…,” Pinky said, wondering how he knew they were at his place.

“Feel free to help yourself to a bottle of scotch, on me,” Nick said. “But if you touch my record collection I'm going to shit on your grave.”

Pinky looked over at Hats who was spray-painting the word
RAT
across what remained of Nicky's record collection.

“Sure…,” Pinky said. “Don't worry about it.”

“I know you don't have a lot of time left on this earth, so I'll keep this short,” Nicky said. “You will not come after me again. You will not tell anybody about my secret arrangement with the police. You will do nothing but wait patiently for Mr. Pogo to come for you. Then you will die.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I asked you nicely,” Nick said.

Pinky laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well, how about if I said that if you didn't do as I requested your little girlfriend is going to die.”

Pinky nearly dropped the phone. “What?”

He could hear her screams in the background. Even though there was a gag in her mouth, he could still tell that it was her.

“You…” Pinky couldn't even find the words for what he wanted to say to him. Tears pooled in his eyes. “You son of a…”

Nicky chuckled. “I know you'd never let anything bad happen to her, Pink. You'd even give your own life to save her. That's just the kind of pathetic guy you are.”

Pinky tried to think. There had to be a way to convince him to let Taffy go.

“You won't kill her,” Pinky said.

“Why not?”

“She's Jojo's daughter and the boss's niece. If you killed her there wouldn't be a fed in the world who could save you from their wrath.”

“That's if
I
was the one who killed her, Pink. But, remember, I use sad bullets. I'd just fill her with depressors until she killed herself. The Bozos would think she was so distraught after Mr. Pogo killed her dear half-clown boyfriend that she just couldn't go on.”

“You better not hurt her,” Pinky said.

“I won't, if you do what you're told.” Nicky snickered again as Taffy's cries escalated in the background. “You will do what you're told, won't you, Pink?”

Pinky's teeth were clenched. He wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Nicky to death.

“Yeah,” Pinky said, his voice going soft. “Fine. Just don't hurt her…”

Nicky laughed out loud and hung up the phone.

“So what did he say?” Hats asked, holding a flamethrower to Nicky's rare-comic-book collection.

“He has Taffy. We can't go after him.”

When he heard that, Hats turned the flamethrower on the rest of Nick's living room and burned it all down.