Free Jailbait by Jack Kilborn Page B

respond.
    I nodded and stood up. “Order two more tequilas. I’ll be right back.” I drained the pint of Goose Island, stepped away from the bar, and strolled over to the man Tangi had been looking at.
    The guy had a few inches and about fifty pounds on me, and the scar tissue around his eyes and chin spoke of a former career in boxing or mixed martial arts. He widened his stance as I approached, letting his hands drop to his sides.
    I stopped a foot away from him, offering a large smile. “Do I know you?” I asked.
    The guy barely looked at me, keeping his focus on Tangi. “No. But if you’re smart, you’ll walk out of here. Right now.”
    “I’m sure I’ve seen you someplace before. Pro wrestling? Maybe the boxing circuit?”
    “Are you dense? I said leave.”
    I snapped my fingers. “Wait! I got it! You were in that movie,
Anal Boys Gone Wild!
Man, the way you serviced that entire soccer team—I’m surprised you could still stand up afterward.”
    Face reddening, the hulk looked at me for the first time. He pulled back one side of his jacket and flashed me the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’m giving you one last chance.”
    “Wow,” I said. “That’s a big gun. But mine’s bigger.” In one blindingly fast move, I tugged the .44 out of my shoulder holster and pressed the barrel into the man’s crotch.
    He gave a startled snort.
    “Here’s the thing, Godzilla. I don’t like big, scary guys breathing down my neck when I’m trying to get laid.” I kept my body close to the behemoth’s, shielding my Magnum from the other patrons. Then I snaked my free hand up the man’s admittedly ripped stomach and tugged out his gun, shoving it into my pocket. “Now I’ve got two guns, and you don’t have any. So unless you want to go back to your boss and tell him you fucked up a simple job like this, how about you answer a few questions for me? Then maybe I’ll give you your weapon back.”
    “You working for her? Is that it?”
    “I have the guns. If you had the guns, you could ask the questions. Who’s your boss?”
    “You going to shoot me? Right here in the middle of this tavern?” He gave me a weak attempt at a grin.
    I cocked the Magnum and stared the guy dead in the eyes. “Yes, I am.”
    Though on the outside I may appear lovable and harmless, he must have seen something in me to know I spoke the truth. His face blanched. “I hope you ain’t doing it for her.”
    “I’m doing it for the vague promise of a blowjob.”
    The thug pointed his chin at the bar. “Whatever she promised, she’s not sticking around for you to collect.”
    I didn’t turn around to check. “Did she at least order the tequilas?”
    “Doesn’t look like it.”
    “Shit. Can’t catch a break today. But I still would like an answer to my question. Who do you work for?”
    “Sal Dovolanni. You recognize the name, shithead?”
    I did. Anyone who knew about organized crime in Chicago knew the Dovolanni family. “How is old Sal these days? Still running underage hookers and selling crack to school kids?
    The guy grunted.
    “So… lemme guess. Sal hasn’t recognized the fact that Tangi is no longer interested in pursuing a relationship, and he uses you to scare away prospective boyfriends.”
    “Is that what the skirt told you?”
    “I’m asking you to tell me.”
    “Maybe I don’t want to say nothing.”
    I shoved the barrel of my .44 down the front of his pants, deep enough to tickle his balls. “I bet you liked that show
The Sopranos
. How’d you like to sing like one?”
    The wise guy cleared his throat. “She and Mr. Dovolanni, they had a… thing.”
    “And now she says it’s over, and Sal has a problem letting go?”
    He shrugged.
    “What’s her story?” I asked. “Failed actress? Escort? Stripper?”
    “She tried to pick Mr. Dovolanni’s pocket. He caught her. Admired her moxie.”
    “First
skirt
, now
moxie
? Do you think you’re in a Cagney movie?”
    “Youse got a problem with how I