The walls of the private back rooms in Chicago's were soundproofed so you could come in and have a private conversation. Regardless, you could still feel the music's beat and the bass made the walls buzz. The rooms were very small, lit by a single dim overhead lamp and containing nothing but a low table surrounded by booth chairs. Mean Joe sat smoking, waiting for the club's owner to show up. It didn't take long. The door opened and in walked Bob Chicago surrounded by three goons in muscle shirts. He pointed and one of them posted at the door. The other two sat on either side of him as he took his seat across from Mean Joe. Inside his head Mean Joe laughed. Despite the size of his bodyguards, Joe knew he could take them all. He supposed Bob Chicago knew this too as he could sense fear coming off of him in waves and could even see sweat forming on his forehead in the dim light. Joe leaned back out of the light's range so only the glow from his cigarette could be seen.
"Nice scarf Bob," he said, "Which of your faggot friends gave you that?"
Mean Joe had nothing against homosexuals, he hated them as equally as he hated anyone else. He had just said it to piss Fat Bob off. And it worked like a charm, Fat Bob was practically shaking and his face was beat red.
"Now, now you listen to me! You can't just walk into my club and start making messes for me to clean up! My best bouncer had to go to the hospital and..."
Mean Joe interrupted him.
"Well, well, shit only seems to happen when you come around. On top of that I've got two bodies out there to get rid of before the cops show up and and and I want you out of here now!"
Mean Joe leaned back into the light.
"Shut your fairy mouth and listen. You owe me big time and I'm calling in my favor."
"I don't owe you jack shit!" Said Fat Bob, his jowls shaking in rage, spit flying from his mouth.
"I suppose you forgot how I spared your life last year. Without me you'd be lying in a swamp right now with a nice size hole in your head and your dick stuffed in your mouth. You'd be alligator food. Is that what you want? I could still make it happen."
Fat Bob's eyes went wide.
"You bastard, you unimaginable bastard. Tell me what you want and get the Hell out of here!"
Mean Joe leaned back in his chair again. He was enjoying this, enjoying it a lot. He pulled the last bit of tobacco from his cigarette and put it out on the table top.
"I need a place to hide away for awhile. You're going to get me one."
Fat Bob sighed in relief. He laughed.
"Is that all? Jesus, I thought you were going to make do some awful errand for you."
Fat Bob wiped the sweat away from his forehead. Mean Joe said nothing.
"Yeah, yeah I got a place. It's a ways out of town. I bought this run down cabin last year just in case I needed a place to go. Its got electricity and running water and not much else. I've been stockpiling food since I bought it....why do you need it anyways if you don't mind me asking?"
"You let your goons fuck you in the ass? I bet that feels real good. Bet you could shit standing up."
One of the guards started to get up and Fat Bob restrained him.
"I'll have a car ready to take you out there tomorrow..."
"Tonight at midnight...."
"Eleven thirty at Seabird's Bridge..."
"Green River Tunnel."
"Green River Tunnel, they'll take you out to the cabin and drop you off. Now you listen to me buster, I don't ever, ever want to see you in here again, you hear me?"
Mean Joe laughed without smiling. It was a low rumbling sort of laugh that made Fat Bob's blood turn to ice and his face go pale. Mean Joe got up to leave. It looked like he was going to walk out but he turned and leaned in close to Bob's fat sweaty face and whispered,
"If you double cross me you candy ass piece of shit, you'll regret it more than you can even imagine. You got lucky that night I let you live, don't think I'll be so generous again."
Then he pushed past the bouncer blocking the door and walked out. Fat Bob sat for a minute, trying to get his nerves back. Then he ordered one of the goons to get the car ready and they all left. The room sat silent and empty except for the pounding of the drumbeat and the buzzing of the bass from the music outside.