Phil Blondino tried to stand, but the barrel of Clutch’s gun pointed at his head convinced him to remain seated. Phil’s grease-stained office chair seemed to groan in agony from underneath his bulky frame.
“You’re good right there, Phil. I’m just going to sit here and sip mydeliciouscup of Pennzoil while my good friend, Minus, looks for Cutter’s money.”
“Really, it’s no trouble, Clutch. I’m happy to do it.” Phil stammered as heavy beads of sweat formed on his stubbled upper lip, which was frozen in a nervous grin.
I shot a cold stare back at Clutch, who was now in full-on ‘Sergeant at Arms Mode.’ There was no question he was the right man for the job. Clutch was always calmest when smack dab in the middle of a storm of violence and chaos. Drawing or losing blood didn’t seem to phase him in the least. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’m some sort of saint. I’d never backed down from a fight and I’d even started my fair share, but Clutch looked forward to violence.
“You see, that’s always been your problem, Phil, you don’t listen very well. For instance, you didn’t listen when I told you not to bother with the coffee. We won’t be here long, and I highly doubt the next cup could possibly be any better than this swill.” Clutch dumped the remainder of his cup on Phil’s trash littered desk. “You also failed to hear me when I asked you where Cutter’s money is, and now my associate, Minus, is probably going to get his pretty cowboy boots dirty rooting around your filthy shop looking for it.”
I flipped Clutch off and began casually tossing Phil’s rat hole of an office. It wasn’t as if his place was some sort of secured facility. His shitty garage was on par with his persona, a low-level guy Cutter used only when needed.
“I doubt even Phil would be stupid enough to keep that much money here,” I said.
“Are you, Phil?” Clutch asked.
“What?” Phil asked.
“Are youthatstupid?”
“What?”
“You keep saying ‘what.’ Are you having trouble with your hearing, Phil? Maybe I can help you with that.”
Clutch holstered his gun and pulled out a knife from his belt. He walked behind Phil and grabbed his head, pressing the blade to Phil’s ear. Phil tried to squirm, but Clutch held firm.
“Hold still, big man.”
“Please don’t cut me, Clutch,” Phil cried out.
Clutch smiled. “What could go wrong? This is a chop-shop isn’t it? A place where large things get cut up into small pieces.”
Phil’s eyes widened.
“I’m going to ask you one more time to point us in the direction of Cutter’s three million dollars and if you fail to hear me this time, I’m going to be forced to improve your hearing by any means necessary.”
I chuckled. “Wouldn’t cutting his ear off make his hearing worse?”
“I’m not a doctor, Minus. I’m sure Phil here understands that I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances, don’t you, Phil?”
Phil’s bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, as he grunted out, “Sure, Clutch.”
“I simply need my good buddy Phil to hear my question as clearly as possible. So here it goes, one more time. Where is Cutter’s fucking money?”
“It’s not here…”
The first drops of blood appeared as the blade pressed into the soft flesh where his earlobe connected to his head.
“I’ll tell you where it is!” he screamed instantly. “I swear to God, I’ll tell you where it is.”
Clutch stopped, straightened, and looked at me, smiling. “See, it worked! He can hear just fine now.”
“I think you missed your calling,DoctorClutch,” I said.
“You asshole, you almost cut my fucking ear off!” Phil snapped.
“Come on, Philly Cheese Steak, I barely touched you. Now, where’s the money?” Clutch asked, once again leveling his pistol to Phil’s head.
“A dude named Viper hired my crew to steal a car. That’s it!” he squeaked. “I swear I didn’t know there was money in the trunk until the car got here and they opened it up.”
