SHAKE DOWN
A First Coast Thriller
Armand Rosamilia
ONE
Walt knew he was in trouble as soon as the door slammed open.
He put his hand up to ward off the deadly rays of the sunlight behind the figure in his doorway.
“Get up.” The unmistakable voice of his boss. As soon as he stepped inside, Walt saw he wasn’t alone. It was Tommy, who he’d closed the bar with last night.
Good old dependable Tommy, who Walt had known since they were kids.
Walt sat up on the couch and looked for his pants on the floor but couldn’t find them. He must’ve passed out on the couch instead of crawling to his bed last night. It was all a blur. “Can we, uh, shut the door and put on a light? It’s too bright and it’s really hot.” After a second of failing to find where he’d tossed his clothes last night, he gave up. He reached for his smokes but his boss shook his head.
They still hadn’t closed the door. Walt closed his eyes and yawned. He was trying to act casual, as if nothing was wrong. Hell, he didn’t know what was wrong.
It hit him a second before he saw the boss give a nod to Tommy, who frowned but put his hand on his waistband. An inch from his weapon.
“Six of the cigarette boats were repossessed last night,” the boss said quietly. The man never yelled, even when something importantly tragic had occurred. Behind his back, the crew called him Jake the Snake, after the famous wrestler who never screamed and shouted when doing a promo before a match. Calm, cool and collected. Like a snake.
Walt nodded. “That was the plan.” The half dozen speedboats were registered to a fictitious name and they’d been useful for the past few weeks. But rumor had it one of them had been spotted by the Coast Guard, so now they weren’t worth the headache of wondering when they’d be confiscated. The boss thought up a novel idea: buy used boats up and down the southeast using offshore bank accounts, laundering the money as they did it. Then never make a payment and have the boat repo’d. With dozens of boats purchased each month and used to haul their product, the paperwork alone trying to find the purchaser tied up the system.
One of the crew, Mort, had questioned the approach not too long ago. Walt thought he was either high or drunk or likely both. “Why not buy the boats outright and launder more money? Then we torch the boats offshore and move on. No fingerprints, no problems, no way for them to be traced.”
Mort was gone the next day. No one questioned the boss about the boats again.
“I entrusted you to wipe down the boats and make sure there was nothing left,” the boss said.
Walt nodded his head. “I did it. Just like you said.” Now he was really uncomfortable. Had he finished the job before he’d gone out with Tommy last night? It was a bit of a blur. He remembered a hooker or maybe someone’s sister stopping by. Was that last night? Walt shook his head. He started to stand but the boss put a hand out to keep him on the couch.
“Do you know what happens when you mess up? It makes all of us look bad, especially me. Do you know why?” The boss smiled but it wasn’t pleasant.
“Because you put everyone in jeopardy?” Walt asked. He thought he should know the answer to the question but his head was jumbled with so many thoughts.
The boss stared at Walt for an uncomfortable minute, until Walt looked down at his feet. “I did what you asked. I wiped down all the boats and left them where you told me to leave them.”
Walt knew he’d forgotten something.
“Then hand it over,” the boss said.
Walt looked up, confused. “What?”
The boss put his hand out. “The fifty pounds missing.”
“What?” Walt was sweating. The sunlight was still drilling into his brain and when he moved to put Tommy between him and the sun, Tommy sighed and stepped off to the side. Walt noticed his buddy had his weapon out now, too.
“They’re all marked, so I know what boat and where they were located inside the boat,” the boss said. He shook his head. To Walt, it looked like the boss was disappointed. You never wanted that. “Fifty pounds wrapped. Ten million dollars. Stashed under the cockpit sole.”
Walt stood up. “Wait… what?”
“If you’d been counting the packages like you’re supposed to, you would’ve known there was an extra package in one of the boats. This was a special request from a very important person, who looks the other way when our boats come into this area. It was your responsibility to make sure it wasn’t left carelessly. You’re on the hook.” The boss glanced at Tommy. “I knew you hadn’t found an extra bundle because you would’ve told Tommy last night.”
“I’m really sorry, boss. I swear it was an oversight. Give me another chance,” Walt said.
The boss shook his head. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been sloppy. I’ve given you enough chances. More than your three allotted strikes, too. While you and Tommy were out drinking, I lost millions of dollars on my watch. How does that make me look to my boss, who I have to answer to? Not good.”
Walt sat back down on the couch. “I’ll find the boat. It has to be stored somewhere local.”
The boss chuckled. “Not to worry. I have all of that figured out. No longer your problem, Walt.”
Walt smiled, thinking he’d get a second chance. The package was either already found, or the boss knew where it was. No harm. No foul.
The smile faded when Tommy stepped forward and Walt was looking down the barrel of a gun.
“I don’t suppose I can say anything to change your mind, boss?” Walt asked. He knew this was the end. He knew he had two options: smile in the face of death and lean into it with no regrets, or beg for mercy and cry like a baby.
Walt chose to cry like a baby. “I’ll do whatever you want, I swear, no more screw ups, I’ll clean toilets, I’ll kill for you free of charge, I’ll take out the garbage, anything, boss, anything.”
“You’re going to be a lesson to the rest of the crew,” the boss said. “I have to answer to a higher authority, Walt. I need to make sure this North Florida area is running smoothly. Without incident. Do you think I like giving the boats over to the authorities? No. If it was up to me, we’d burn them to the waterline. But…” The boss shrugged. “I do what needs to be done. No questions. No deviations. No part of the job can be sloppy or missed.”
“I can change. I screwed up, but I’ll work even harder,” Walt said.
The boss shook his head. “I wish I could believe you. Even if I could, your fate is out of my hands, Walt. You did this to yourself.”
As the boss left and shut the door behind him, the sunlight was gone. Walt could see.
See his friend Tommy as he pulled the trigger.
As writers, we all think our work is brilliant. Don’t we have to? We’re writing stories because we want to read these stories, and they aren’t currently available unless we roll up our sleeves and sit down and write them.
We should also think our stories are so damn brilliant they should be on the big screen, with a huge crowd sipping overpriced watered-down soda and day-old popcorn, too.
I want to see my work on the movie screen or as a series on Netflix. Of course I do. What writer wouldn’t want that? Most of us (me included) write visually, with the movie playing in my head as I put down the words. I can see the characters and the settings and the camera angles.
Not that I’m writing a screenplay, but the characters are real in my head. I usually have a few ideas for them before I start writing, too.
For instance: in Shake Down, the first book in my new crime thriller series, I envisioned Kyle Chandler playing main character Clayton Conway. He was excellent in “Bloodline” and in other parts, and he can play the no-nonsense brooding character.
Jimmy Dermin wasn’t found on the screen, though: he is based off of my wife’s boss who passed away a couple of years ago unexpectedly. He was a fun chaotic guy to hang out with, and I tried to give Jimmy that edge, too.
Cassie Conway, Clayton’s sister, is Marisa Tomei. Pretty, confident and she uses her feminine charms to get her way.
Vic(toria) O’Keefe is the owner of The Ruby Skull bar in Jax Beach. She is, in my writing mind, Christina Hendricks. “Hap And Leonard” or “Tin Star” as well as a bunch of other great roles.
The rest of the supporting cast are based on real people or actors, too. Xavier Romo is short and funny and looks like comedian Kevin Hart, while his repo partner, Cornelius ‘Neil’ Chase is built and looks like Sinbad. The comedian, not the guy fighting skeletons.
I wonder how much it would cost a movie production company to get that lineup to play these parts. Hmm.
Would I like to see Shake Down made into a film or series? Obviously. Am I actively pursuing it? Not yet. Maybe, someday.
I have a few of my horror IP’s out on flyers for companies, but nothing solid yet. I’m always looking and hoping for one of them to hit and open the floodgate to my other works.
Who knows? Maybe Shake Down will be coming to Netflix or your local theater in the next few years.
Until then… I keep writing and imagining actors and actresses to play these parts.
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