Riding Shotgun

Riding Shotgun

By

Gavin Matthew

The Cadillac was pristine from bumper to grill. Gold wire rims decorated white tires that matched the vehicle’s white body and gold accents. There wasn’t a single spot on a window or mirror. Despite having been parked for hours on Pasell, the car looked as if it were brand new. Even the dancing winter snow, cold flakes piling up from block to block, seemed to drift around the beautiful Cadillac like nature herself knew not to defile it.

“Goddamn, it’s cold!” Tulip said as she slid into the car’s backseat, brushing snow from her tapered afro.

“Who you telling?” replied Oil, Tulip’s partner, as he slid in while closing the door. “Glad you’re an expert with the locks because I don’t know how long I could have waited out there.”

Tulip didn’t waste a second as she climbed from the backseat. Her nimble sinewy form almost swam through the air as she glided behind the steering wheel in one quick action. It didn’t matter that she wore a thick corduroy coat with bell-bottom jeans. Neither her clothes nor the cold slowed the young woman down. Tulip took to her work with the precision of an expert. The only other thing she was ever as serious about was her partner. Oil sat in the back rubbing his arms for warmth. His shabby red flannel coat was nice and thick but it still felt to him as if the winter chill was stewing in his bones. The slender young man was shivering so much that his full afro appeared to be shaking. It wasn’t until his eyes caught the expensive coverings that he stopped feeling the cold, his mind thoroughly distracted by the decadence. 

“Say, Tulip,” Oil said as he ungloved a hand and rubbed the seat. “Who owns this ride?”

“I don’t know,” Tulip spat back as she pulled a switchblade from her coat pocket, activating the weapon to work beneath the wheel. “I peeped it parked here a few nights back. Haven’t seen the owner yet.”

“Look at how fly this ride is! I haven’t seen anything like this since we went and saw that Ron O’Neal movie at the theater. That doesn’t give you pause? Check out the seat coverings. Wine-colored satin, T. How much do you think these cost to put in?”

“More than the clothes on our backs combined I bet,” Tulip replied as she worked.

In truth, it was the gaudy display the vehicle put on that inspired her to steal it. Who had the nerve to bring such a thing to her neighborhood? Nobody within five blocks could afford a tire for this car, let alone the whole Cadillac. Walking past it brought heat to Tulip’s ears. She didn’t care who owned it. She just knew it had to go.

“I got a bad feeling about this one,” Oil said as he continued to admire the exquisite innards of the car.

“Stop with the ‘bad vibes’ thing. Every time you do that it jinxes us,” Tulip said, fiddling with the wheel’s key slot. “If you speak bad shit into existence it comes true. You know?”

“Ah, Tulip.”

“No, listen to me. You got to change your look on life, baby.”

“Tulip.”

“See? I don’t think you’re digging on what I’m putting down. I care about you, Oil. You know that. I want you to want better for yourself. That dreary bad luck chuck shit is a slippery slope. You want to end up a junkie on the street cursing at God for all your misgivings? Because that’s where . . .”

“Tulip!” Oil yelled, “Look!”

“What?!” Tulip said as she looked back at her partner.

Oil extended his index finger slowly yet with force. As Tulip turned to look out of the passenger’s side window she saw two menacing black barrels gazing back at her, their length cut shorter for a more deadly effect. The owner of the two malicious barrels was a stocky man in a mauve leisure suit with a brown lamb coat. He sported a perfectly round afro that connected to a pair of sharp sideburns. Tulip hadn’t noticed his matching apple cap until he inched down for a better view of the pair in the car.

“Unlock the door or they’re going to be picking up pieces of your skull from across the street,” warned the man, his sawed-off double barrels tapping the window.

Tulip gave Oil a hard frown. A scowl that said he had failed as a lookout. Their partnership had existed long enough to develop their own language based on facial ticks and body movements. A wrenching jerk at Oil’s jaw indicated he was sorry but Tulip waved it away as she opened the car door.

“It is a brisk morning,” the gunman said as he closed the door behind himself. “And you know that feeling you get where you don’t want to get out of bed? The one where you’re nice and warm under some heavy covers?”

A cold silence filled the car. Tulip held a hard stare while Oil looked between his partner and the sawed-off shotgun. The stocky man could see how nervous they were, but it intrigued him that the young woman could at least sit stone still.

“Do you know who I am?” said the man as he cradled his gun. “My name is Kurtis Wodell. That’s Kurtis with a ‘K’, but you might know me by another name. Nothing too fancy. Most folks on Vine call me LP.”

As if the wind had been knocked out of him, Oil released a heavy breath that was coupled with a low whine. Tulip kept her cool with the exception of a raised eyebrow, an involuntary action that let LP know she understood the situation.

“That LP?” Tulip asked, failing to keep her voice steady.

“The one and only. And this nice boss hog you’re ripping off was my brand-new ride. The ol’ lady I’ve been seeing upstairs really liked it too.”

“It is a nice Cadi,” Tulip said. “So, how about you let us go and you won’t have to mess it up?”

Tulip didn’t like the man’s grin. LP’s reputation was bad enough. It wasn’t a secret that he was muscle for a Kansas City numbers man. Or that LP was a cruel hood who delighted in the opportunity for violence. It was his grin that made the hair on her neck stand up. Stories and rumors were poor comparisons to seeing the beast in the flesh.

“Or you could tell me your names?” LP replied.

“I’m Tulip. Nervous cat in the back is my partner Oil.”

“Oil?” LP repeated, shifting his gun to the new target. “You don’t look dark enough to earn that handle.”

“Th . . . The . . . They uh,” Oil stuttered. “They call me Oil because . . . because . . .”

“Because he’s slick behind the wheel,” Tulip finished.

“That right? And yet you’re sitting behind it.”

“Oil knows how to drive them but he doesn’t know how to hot wire them.”

“I’m guessing he doesn’t talk much either?”

“Actually, he talks too much,” Tulip said, looking at Oil from the rearview mirror. “He just has a thing about having guns pointed at him.”

“Can’t blame him for that,” LP chuckled.

There it was again. That grin. Despite it being a simple move of the mouth, It sounded off like an alarm that only Tulip could hear. LP was itching to do something nasty. Something malicious. Something violent.

“Are you going to let us go?” Tulip asked.

“I haven’t decided,” LP moaned as he gazed out the window. “It's really coming down out there. Gives me an idea.”

Neither Tulip nor Oil had noticed the change in the weather until now. Both briefly peeled their eyes from LP and his double barrel to witness white flakes falling with speed and harshness. The wind whispered against the Cadillac as nature battered Pasell with snow. Even in the growing storm, it still appeared that nothing wanted to touch the clean car.

“Come on, man. Just let us go!” Tulip fussed, getting tired of sitting in fear. “Asshole!”

“Oh,” LP said, feigning hurt. “You got balls, huh?”

“I don’t know about that but I know I’m tired of being here with this shit.”

“Cool it, Tulip.”

“You cool it, Oil!” Tulip spat back. “The faster we get on with this, the faster we can either rest in the dirt or get back to boosting rides. Whichever works for me because at least I won’t have to look at his fat face anymore!”

Suddenly, LP’s grin disappeared. Tulip had besmirched his fun. She had rubbed his joy the wrong way. Now seriousness had replaced its vacant space. 

“Alright,” LP said. “Start up my hog. I think I know what we’re about to do now.”

“No,” Tulip said defiantly. “And you can go fu . . .”

The click of the trigger seemed deafening but paled in comparison to the loud roar of the sawed-off’s barrel. He aimed low, buckshot ripping into the satin coverings. Tulip’s ears rang from the blast. Moments had passed before she could hear Oil’s crying. There he was hunkered to the side, his hands gripping a bloody gash at the waist of his flannel coat.

“Hey!” LP yelled to cut his voice through the young woman’s shock. “I only nicked the little punk but I promise you the next shot will clear off the top of his natural if you do not start this cadi!”

Quickly, Tulip went to work under the wheel. It took less than a minute for her to bring the vehicle to life. She then leaned back and stared at LP, barrel smoke rolling through the cold air between them. His grin had returned.

“Well,” LP said as he turned on the car radio. “Go ahead and drive us west to Kansas.”

Tulip grabbed the gear handle from behind the wheel and shifted the car into drive while LP tuned the radio in search of music. A high melody kicked in just as the young woman pulled from the curb.

“Oh, I love this jam. If you dance to the music, you got to pay to the piper . . . Ask yo momma!” LP sang, his Cadillac and its passengers rolling through the growing white obscurity of cold and squall.

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Kansas City, Missouri slowly become a memory, its buildings and paved city streets fading away in the rearview mirror. White snow covered the open Kansas territory as more flakes continue to fall. Gone were the clubs, shops, and theaters found on Vine Street. Tulip saw nothing but cold pastures made dimmer by the unforgiving haze of the snowstorm. 

“Alright,” LP said, after finishing off a rendition of “Love Child” by The Supremes. “Pull on over.”

Tulip did as she was told. The Cadillac hummed as it sat idle, its white pristine body blending with the world around it. A suffocating silence filled the car with the exception of an odd low whistle. 

“Huh,” LP grunted as he looked in the backseat. “Sounds like some of that buckshot went through.”

“Anyway,” shrugged the gangster. “You two can get your asses out.”

Tulip looked from the frigid wasteland that surround them to her wounded friend bleeding in the backseat. 

“Are you serious?” Tulip sighed. “Even if you hadn’t peppered Oil, it would still be a rough walk out there! You expect us to survive that shit?!”

“I don’t give a damn! You fools hopped in the wrong ride and now you got two options. A; you take your chances with the brisk stroll. Or, B; I kill you right now. At least one way you know you’re dead, you know. So, get out my car.”

LP raised his sawed-off at Tulip to emphasize her options. The threat didn’t make her budge any more than the idea of possibly freezing to death made her sit still. She slid her hands into her coat and stared at LP, defiance eddying in her eyes. 

“Oh,” he grinned. “We doing that again?”

LP craned his shotgun to aim at Oil but before he could complete the motion, Tulip’s hand lunged from her pocket. The switchblade made a resounding click as it activated, and then a gruesome squish followed as its blade sank into the gangster’s gut. The sawed-off roared as LP reacted to being stabbed, obliterating the back driver’s side window. Quickly, Tulip stabbed again. Then a third time. She attempted a fourth attack but LP desperately grabbed her wrist, wild rage flashing in his eyes. 

“Oil! Get up here!” Tulip yelled as she dove into the passenger’s seat, trying to put her weight behind another stab attempt.

Oil whipped his arm around LP’s neck, but as he tried to choke the man he was rewarded with a savage bite to the forearm. 

“Damn it!” Oil spat as he fell back. “Forget this.”

Oil tightened up his coat and shook his head as he resolved himself to do what he did best, and jumped behind the wheel of the Cadillac. Oil yanked the gear into drive and shot Tulip a hard stare. No words transpired but she understood nonetheless. Tulip bore forward and opened the car door, taking a hefty kick to the chest from LP’s zipper boots as a riposte. Despite the harsh blow that sent his partner bumping into him, Oil still managed to drift the car across the icy road. 

“Sonofab . . .” was all LP managed to say before he was flung from the satin seat of the vehicle. In a twisting blur of mauve and plush brown, he flew yards through the air and exploded into a snow bank. 

“What do you think?” Oil whispered as he sat with his hands on the wheel and his foot hovering above the gas pedal.

Tulip didn’t respond. Both sat and stared at where their enemy had disappeared, the cold winds offering the only sound between them besides the hum of the car. A minute passed without interruption before Oil took his eyes off of the vacant territory. LP’s nice apple cap had landed on the car floor and caught the young man’s attention with a smile.

“Well,” Oil started as he grabbed and adjusted the hat on his head, gritting his teeth at the stinging pain at his waist. “I guess that’s that. Dig, this is still a fly ride even with the buckshot holes and the blood. Bet we could still get something decent for it.”

“Yeah, Bernard never cared about blood before,” Tulip replied, her eyes still glued to the distant impact point. “No reason why he would care now.”

Tulip closed the car door and smiled as Oil turned the car around and started their drive back to Kansas City proper. The snow thickened as it continued to fall, adding another layer of haze to the journey. Between nature and their relief, neither car thief noticed the stocky man in the rearview mirror as he popped up from a side ditch. The clean white Cadillac sped off and disappeared over the dark hazy horizon. LP picked up his sawed-off and found himself standing in the middle of the road as he watched his custom hog roll away.

“Damn,” he whispered to himself as he tightened up his coat, focusing the coat’s belt on his wounds, and grinned. “Well, at least that was fun while it lasted.”

LP tossed his gun into the open nearby tundra, its heavy metal disappearing under the endless white. He shrugged to himself and with a simple step, started his long walk back to Kansas City.

“If you dance to the music!” he sang as he sauntered. “Then you gotta pay to the piper…….ask yo momma!”

End