Getting to the box was easy, either Little Big Jimmy was fearless or arrogant. The place wasn’t crawling with security. Getting inside the box was a different story. Leaning against the wall next to the door was the first guard I had seen since I had made it inside. He was toting a gun, big one. I know next to nothing about calibers or models or all that bullshit, what I did know is that it was massive and could fill my chest with lead ten times before I could say hello. I happen to like my chest unleaded
“Uh, hey chief, I gotta message for the boss. Let me in already.” My Chicago Italian accent needed work. I think I sounded more like a cartoon.
“Oh! Hey! What’s da message ova here? I’ll bring it to him myself! Oh!” This guy sounded more like a cartoon than I did. I honestly didn’t think people talked like that.
“I can’t tell anyones! You want I should wake up with cement shoes after sleepin’ with fishes? Fuggedaboutit!” Say what you want about me, I got cajones. I just can’t back them up half the time.
“Fuggedaboutit? Boss says I don’t let anyone through, I don’t let anyone through. You fuggedaboutit!” he said.
“Easy, easy, I’ll whisper it to ya chief. Can’t let dis whole fuggin’ place hear a private message.”
He nodded and leaned his head towards me. I laced my fingers behind his neck and gave him a less than friendly introduction to my knee. They hit it off like gangbusters. Made a real connection.
I pulled the gun from his unconscious grip, throwing the leather strap over my shoulder. I prayed to whoever was listening that I didn’t have to use it. I jumped up and down on my toes to psych myself up before I turned and kicked the door in.