Bum Rap. Donald E. Morrow

try to recover all the pellets from the blast. I was still sitting at my table when Phil came out of his cave door.

      “Awful quiet out he...” and then he saw the guns, and his employees with their hands in the air.

      He was quiet for just a second, and then he spoke.

      “Okay, guys. You got a winner. You get all the money, and no one gets hurt. Jody, honey, these boys want you to go behind the bar, and get that big old bag right by the cash register. Now you boys with the guns, I want you to look at Jody.

      “See how she’s dressed. Skimpy, huh? No place to hide a weapon, so you need not worry about her. Only weapon she’s got is those pretty teats, and that bouncy butt. Jody, do it, right now.”

      And I watched him and Jody but mostly the guys with the guns. They still didn’t speak. Hell, they didn’t have to. The guns did all the talking, and Phil did the rest.

      Jody was fast. She ran behind the bar, and ran back, and then right out to the robbers where she threw the money bag at their feet, then dropped right down to the floor to sit on her butt with her pretty legs sticking out in front of her. One gunman reached for the bag, and then they both backed out the door.

      “Nobody moves,” Phil yelled. “Stay right where you are. No heroes tonight.” Well, that’s what we did. But then came the shots.

      “Don’t move. Keep your seat.”

      Even Jody sitting in that uncomfortable position didn’t move a muscle. Then, after maybe four minutes, he walked over to the door, opened it, and went outside. Less than a minute later, he came back inside with the money bag in his hand. Slowly, he locked the door. “I got a brand new rule,” he said. “When the last customer leaves, we lock the door.”

      What in the bloody hell had I just seen? A hold-up. Two men with shotguns! They took the money. A couple minutes later we heard shooting, then the boss goes out and gets his money bag. Unbelievable. It was a set-up. They never had a chance. They’d been murdered.

      It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Me, and my helpers, were not the only employees.

      Phil had snipers posted outside the club. There was some kind of hearing system hooked up so that the snipers could hear what was going on inside the club. They’d waited for the hold-up men to step outside the club and then killed them. Phil had not only created the design for his club. He had created a way to protect his money. Somewhere down in my gut, I felt a shudder. Phil was not a man to mess with.

      It was during the following week when he sat down at my table and started talking.

      “You’re wondering why I don’t use my shooters to take care of Abe Roster. Right?”

      “Well, it crossed my mind. You’re paying me a hundred dollars a day to set around on my big fat. So far, I haven’t broken up a single fight. I have put nobody out for misbehaving or done one damn thing to earn that hundred bucks. I could settle the Abe Roster thing with one cheap bullet, so from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re not a good businessman, and yet. I know that’s not true. I’m confused. Unconfuse me.”

      “He laughed.” A deep melodious sort of thing from way down in his belly.

      “It’s simple. I can’t logically kill a man for property damage. It’s just not right. If he steals my money, well now he’s fucking with my livelihood. I got to eat. To do it, I have this club. I’m the same as the caveman. If you steal my food, I got to kill you. You dig it?”

      “Yes, sir,” I said, and I don’t know if it all came out, but there was a lot of feeling behind my words. “I sure as hell do.”

      Somehow thereafter, I felt a kinship of sorts with my boss. His outlook so closely paralleled mine, as to be almost the same, and yet, the man will have been raised up in a different environment than mine.