Lee Williams, Harassment Agent - Episode 2
by Lee Williams
(This story is a complete work of fiction.)
St. Louis, Missouri
I sat there in cuffs with the police lights in my face. I looked over at Valentina, and then turned to my other side and saw another young woman, whose face I can't remember. But I do think she was pretty. I looked back up and saw one of those militarized FBI agents standing over me shining a flashlight in my face. I couldn't see his own face because of the flashlight.
"Alright," he barked. "What's your name and how old are you?"
"Lee Williams," I said. "And I'm 21."
"Son," he said to me. "Which one of these girls was riding in your car with you when we stopped you?" I looked at them both. "Neither?" He punched me and threw me in the back of his car. And when he turned on his siren, it sounded like this familiar song I knew. It sounded like La Pitaya.
I woke up in the sunshine in a motel room in East St. Louis to my phone ringing. I had programmed the ringtone in my phone to play a song called La Pitaya by this old Mexican band called Los Rayos. First line of the song is about someone searching for the narrator because they want to kill him, then how he stole a dragon fruit... But the fruit is just a metaphor for a woman's heart... Then some lovey dovey stuff. How he loves this woman, and for them little brown eyes he'd sell his life... And now it's waking me up after driving for 30 hours and sleeping for 7.
I picked it up, half asleep. "Hello?"
"Guess what?" she said.
"Jesus Christ..."
"One million dollars."
"Wow... Great... What about one million dollars?"
"That's your new assignment. It's in Washington, D.C."
I sat up in bed. "Do you two live to send me on a wild goose chase? I just got to St. Louis. I've been awake, driving for 30 f*cking hours."
"Not my problem. Because you know what happens if you don't accept it?"
"F*ck you."
"You'll be terminated immediately. I don't mean your employment either. Drive to Kentucky and go to the bar I text you. I'll send you to meet the person who will help you with this."
I hung up the phone.
That was odd. They didn't tell me anything about who exactly I'm bothering. And apparently I have to meet someone? And one million dollars, never had a personal payout that big. Thing is, payouts that big come at a price. It doesn't add up. They don't pay you that much to harass someone who's nobody. And in addition to that, I never walked into it blind like this. It led me to question certain things. As a matter of fact, didn't she threaten to kill me? And now I have to make it to somewhere outside Louisville to go meet someone at a bar.
Let's check on our current agents then! Because I think we just got new ones.
There's Tommy, who is ultimately just a menacing and cruel individual. He was a "good" agent in the sense that the job got done, but not through any degree of cleverness. Just through pure meanness. He ended up in jail after getting mad at a target and beating them into a coma.
That leaves us with Scott, who is like the second half of a dynamic duo, except for a duo to be dynamic it can't be dysfunctional. Scott wasn't meant for this business; he was meant to be a con man, or a used car salesman, or something devious, but he was never prepared for the physical toll this will take on you. He wasn't meant to run up and down the U.S. because it doesn't provide any degree of structure in his life. He was meant to set up shop in one place for a long time, suck it dry of its resources, and leave. He wasn't prepared for all the running and jumping and climbing and hiding that comes with this job. He wasn't prepared to ever physically hurt someone either. He basically gets bullied into it by Tommy. And he was there when Tommy beat that guy into a coma.
And would you look at that, Tommy got sentenced to life because the guy died later and Scott got sentenced to 10 years for accessory. So we won't be hearing from those guys. Tommy was always an asshole though, and Scott is a bitch. So I guess some new people may be nice... We'd only get two to three.
Oh, and I didn't fly to SLC. As a matter of fact, I won't be going to SLC at all. I carjacked someone because Ray turned back on his agreement to fly me here. Well, I didn't carjack them. I just stole the car itself while they weren't in it. Otherwise, I wasn't going to make it out of California. I managed to make it as far north as the edge of the desert, near Pomona, where I went up in the mountains and looked out. I recall that looking at the lights of the city felt like looking at the stars, because I couldn't see them anymore due to the light pollution. And for a second, I knew I'd miss my friends here and knew I'd miss the girls I'd found beautiful. But after that second was over, I knew I had to go to St. Louis. Or I guess I should say I thought I knew. And then I just left.
New Albany, Indiana
The bar that evil bitch Valentina sent me was on Market Street, in a city called New Albany across state lines from Louisville. It was crowded seeing as it was a Saturday night. I had on a camo overshirt and the rest of my outfit was tan. I was wearing my glasses.
And God was watching me because I had my bracelet on. I got it in California when I crossed the border. It's made of wood and every wood square on the bracelet has a little picture of Jesus on it. Whenever one of the pictures falls off, I add a name to it. So far we have my childhood friend Lewis, another childhood friend named Q, and the late great JB. And whenever a picture of Jesus falls off, they make it to heaven. The only problem is I'm not so certain I believe in Christianity. I guess I'm more like a Muslim.
And then I realized I was just standing outside of a dive bar staring at it and walked in. I walk into the beginning of Police & Thieves. At the very end, in a booth, there's a guy about my age with black hair sitting and drinking beer. The barkeep was at the opposite end of the bar, almost as if he knew who the guy was already and wanted nothing to do with him. He was smoking a cigarette. Little bit of a beard going. As I walk up, he's leaning over the table, face down. I hear a sniffing sound.
"Table smell good?" I asked.
He looked up at me. "Who are you?"
I paused. "Lee. Lee Williams. Who are you?"
"Pierre." He went back to smelling the table and when he came back up he sneezed twice. A little white cloud appeared around his nose.
"Bless you," I said. "I assume we both know why we're here then?"
He took a drag from his cigarette and didn't say anything.
"Are we allowed to smoke here?" I asked.
"Doesn't matter, who cares," he said. "Are you the guy from that hotline thing?"
I stared at him. "Yes," I said. "I am the guy from that hotline thing. We both have to travel to D.C. now. How did they hire you?"
"Uhh... I mean... Some guy named Leon had me call a number when I was in jail from inside to get out. And then they got me out and beat my case but said I owe them a huge favor. That's what this is. You know Leon?"
"No, I don't know Leon."
"How did they involve you in this?"
"Uh... The guy who runs the hotline taught me a lot of stuff... Since I was a kid. It's kinda just my trade, I guess." Bullshit version of the story.
"Let's go to D.C. then? How far is it?"
"Nine hours."
He groaned.
U.S. Interstate
12:52 AM:
Pierre lit up a cigarette.
"That's nasty," I said. "And a bad habit, I guess. Open the window."
He did.
2:01 AM:
Me and Pierre stopped for food.
He decked someone in the restaurant.
We sped off.
4:31 AM:
Sultans of Swing was playing on the radio.
When the song ended, the D.J. played animal sounds for two minutes.
I turned the radio off.
8:01 AM:
Me and Pierre stopped for coffee.
I decked someone in the coffee shop.
We sped off.
9:00 AM:
Pierre lit up a cigarette.
"Give me one," I said.
10:00 AM:
Arrival.
Northwest Washington, D.C.
We stood on a street corner waiting for this second guy for the mission. 5th and Kennedy. We waited for several hours, but there was no sign of him. I called Valentina, but it went straight to voicemail.
"Something is weird about this," I said. "He isn't here."
"So what now?" Pierre asked.
"I don't know. I guess we do it without him?"
"But what are we even doing?"
"I'm not actually sure. They haven't told me anything. Let's go get some food or something, I'm hungry."
"F*ck food, I want a beer."
I looked at him. "It's noon."
'And I'm Irish," he said with a smirk. "Where can I get a beer?"
"Well, there's a spot called Tony's down the street. I saw it. And a liquor store next to it."
We walked to Tony's. I ordered the breakfast skillet with a strawberry smoothie and Pierre had eggs and bacon while he drank a Modelo. I was about halfway done with the breakfast skillet when I heard one of the workers shout and then shots rang off, bullets whizzing through the restaurant.
I jumped down onto the floor as they continued to unload into the storefront. I saw one of the Hispanic ladies behind the counter go down, and then an old man, but me and Pierre just stayed on the floor waiting for it to stop. I glanced over at him and he was lighting up a cigarette while lying on the floor. He made eye contact with me and smirked. I heard car tires screeching as the shooters sped off.
We got up and dusted ourselves off.
"Yo," I said. "We should probably get out of here before the cops come."
"Yeah, that's a good idea."
As we got in the car, I wondered what that was about. Pierre was behind the wheel this time and I was in the passenger seat.
"You think someone who worked there pissed off those guys?" I asked.
"Hard to say," Pierre said. "This is a pretty shitty area."
I looked behind us and saw a black Nissan Altima with tinted windows following.
"Take a right," I said. "There's a car behind us."
Pierre took a right and so did the car.
"Crap... It's still behind us. Take another right."
Same thing happened again. Then it started riding our tail. Then it pulled up alongside us and I saw the window rolling down and a couple people in ski masks inside. I saw the guy in the driver's seat pull a pistol out. Before I could even shout at Pierre to drive, he slammed on the gas and we started speeding down side streets and alleyways. The car was close behind us.
The car drove the way Tommy drives. And I can't be sure, but those eyes in that ski mask... Same color as Tommy's... Gray... And they sent me and Pierre to D.C., a city with one of the lowest numbers of law enforcement officers and the highest homicide rates in the country, purely by "coincidence" with absolutely no explanation and a one million dollar payout.
I guess the hotline is done with me and that shootout at the restaurant was an assassination attempt. And they're going to finish the job now. Well, they're going to finish me. But what the hell did I do?
"Yo," I said. "I think they're trying to kill us, the hotline. Or me, I should say."
"You don't say..." Pierre grumbled, as he lit up a cigarette and continued to accelerate with a frown and a furrowed brow. And then, by chance, one of the few police officers left in D.C. turned on his lights and sirens and the Nissan Altima abruptly took a left, police behind them. And there was one cop and two groups of people to chase, and they tend to pick their battles in D.C.
Maybe God is real...
Soundtrack
La Pitaya - Los Rayos