Gumby and Ace
ce, are you sure the painting is worth five mil?" Gumby asked.
Ace looked at his younger brother. He still looks like a Gumby, he thought. He doesn't have a hair on his body, he's got Popeye thick calves, a flat face, and dumb/happy eyes. No wonder nobody uses his real name - Edward.
"That's what it's insured for," Ace answered. No sense saying it was a Picasso. The name wouldn't mean anything to Gum. He was 28 and still didn't know shit.
Ace downshifted the Vette, passing a white-haired man doing 35 in a 50. The warm November wind in Southwest Florida played with Ace's hair. It felt good compared to the forty degree refrigerator they left in New York two days ago.
"Still, five mil?"
"Forget the five, bro. After the insurance weasel gets paid, we're only gettin' two." Ace grabbed Gum's shoulder and squeezed. "Only a mil a piece." Then he broke out a big grin.
"Fucken millionaires!" Gumby yelled, giving Ace a high five.
He could feel Gumby studying him. "What?"
"Ace, you always was the smart one."
"Yeah, right."
"No, I mean it. No one would ever figger us for brothers. I'm the runt, the bald egg, and all the ladies envy your hair. I know Gloria does." Gumby pulled on Ace's ponytail, and Ace swatted his hand away. "And you got the brains, I got ... what do I got, Ace?"
"You got a big fucken mouth." The joke didn't work. Gum was so sensitive. "Hey, Gum, lighten up. I was only kiddin'."
"Do you think Mom was doin' the mailman?" He was serious.
"Ask her."
There was a heavy silence in the car. Please don't start, Ace thought. Not now.
"Did you do Gloria, Ace?"
"Cut it out."
"Mom said you was doin' her. Was you?"
"For the last time, no."
"She said you spent a lot of time over my place."
"I was checkin' up on them for you."
Gumby was silent.
"Look, man, you took the rap for me. What kind of shitheel do you think I am? You got some low opinion of me."
"I'm just askin' is all."
"The toll booth is comin' up." Ace slowed and then stopped at the toll plaza, the fourth car back. "Gimme three dollars, Gum."
Gumby counted out three sweaty, wrinkled dollars from their stash. "Three bucks is alot for a crummy bridge in Florida."
"That's cause the rich people live here. It keeps out the rough trade."
Ace paid the toll, flashing a broad grin at the tolltaker. He checked the time at the tollbooth clock. Six thirty. The sun was setting. In another hour, it would be dark. Ace goosed the accelerator and three shifts later, they were running 60 over the Sanabel causeway.
"Look at that water, Ace. You ever see anything so pretty?"
"Get out the map and check the directions." It was time for business.
Gumby got out the map, and the slip of paper. "It says when you get off the causeway, go straight. At the stop sign, turn right. The road is Perry something."
"Perry something?" They were off the causeway now. A big sign said 'Welcome to Sanabel Island.'
"This guy's handwriting is the pits. It's like Chinese. Where'd you find him?"
"He found me. Said he wanted the best."
"You sure he's straight?"
"Yeah. If you saw him, you'd know. He looks like the typical asshole that works for an insurance company. All suited up and nervous." Ace braked at the stop sign. The street marker said Perriwinkle.
"Just so you know, I can't go back to prison, Ace. Gloria will leave me this time."
"Little bro, the only place we're goin' is Easy Street."
About a block later, Ace saw it in his rearview. "Oh shit." he said.
"What?"
"There's a cop tailin' us. ... don't turn around!"
"Now what?" Gumby asked. He passed wind.
"Gum, God damn it!" Ace wrinkled his nose.
"Sorry, Ace. I developed a sensitive stomach my last time up."
"Roll your window down, for the love of Christ! It smells like rotten eggs and death in here."
Ace signaled to turn, and pulled into a Dairy Queen. The police cruiser followed them. The parking lot was almost full.
"Don't look back, Gum. Pretend you're a tourist. Smile at the pretty people."
Ace checked the lot. There were two spots around the other side. He pulled in. The Police car pulled into the spot next to them. Ace could feel the cops eyes on him.
"Now what, Ace?"
"We wait." Ace reached behind the seat and felt for the Glock. He brought it around.
"Hey, " Gumby whispered. "I thought you said no guns."
"Sorry, Gum. No way I'm going back to prison. I'd rather be dead." Ace chambered a round.
"Ace!"
"Quiet! He's gettin' out."
The door of the police car opened. The cop stepped out, stretched, looked over at Ace, and nodded. Ace nodded back. He watched the cop walk up to the line at the ordering window.
"Holy Shit, Ace, they even got cops with tits. Big tits at that."
"Rich people can afford cops with big tits," Ace said, grinning.
"Now what?"
"Make like you're lookin at the map. Raise it up. Okay, she's looking at us. Yeah, that's right, lady pig, we're asshole tourists. Now put the map down, Gum."
Ace backed out of the parking space. He nodded again to the cop. She was watching them leave.
They drove in silence for ten blocks, Ace's eyes glued to the rearview. When it felt right again, Ace exhaled. "Okay, Gum, what's it say next?"
"It says follow Perry something until the stop sign, and then make a left on Tarpon Bay."
"Then what?"
"Go to the end, make a right on Gulf Drive. The house is a mile down, on the Gulf."
"What number?"
"1589. He says something about parking across the street at a Christian Scientist Church."
They turned left, then right. Ace drove passed the church and 1589 Gulf Drive.
"Where you goin', Ace?"
"I'm checkin the area out."
Ace drove until Gulf Drive dead-ended at a beach. There was a sign that warned the world, "Residents Only - All cars without stickers will be towed". Ace pulled into the parking lot anyway. He parked close to the beach, turned off the engine, and listened to the waves of the Gulf of Mexico breaking on shore.
"Man, this place is heaven, ain't it, Ace?"
"Rich man's heaven. Not for guys like us. Hey, where you goin'?"
Gumby was out before Ace could stop him. "I want to walk on the beach. You comin' ?" Ace sighed and shook his head. Gumby walked down the beach to the water. It was seven o'clock now, the sun was gone, and the red and orange sky was fading into darkness. There was a constant stream of couples walking along the beach. Gumby waved at some of them. Finally, he walked back to the car.
"People are so friendly here, Ace. Everyone who walked by smiled and said hello. No one has that fuck you New-York-attitude."
"Yeah, right. Like the fuckin' rich people give a shit about us. Come on, let's get outa here." Ace left the parking lot and drove back on Gulf Drive. Lights were going on along the road. Night was setting in.
"How we gonna do it, Ace?"
"Don't rush me, Gum. I'm figurin' it."
Ace pulled into the driveway of the church. The parking lot was empty. Two overhead lights were on. Ace pulled into a dark corner, by a clump of palm trees, where he could see the lit up mailbox with the numbers 1589 across the street. He turned off the ignition and took out his pack of Luckies. He offered one to Gumby, and then lit them both up. They sat there, smoking, studying movements and sound.
"You figure tonight or tomorrow, Ace?"
"Don't know yet, Gum." When their cigarettes burned down, they lit another.
"Nobody looks home."
"Insurance weasel said they won't come here for another month. They got houses all over the world. Some rich Germans." Ace studied the house. It was huge - three stories. Clean, white, modern. Lots of glass and angles. Nothing he would ever afford.
"How come people get to live like this, Ace, and we get to live like us?"
"It's the breaks, Gum. Some guys are born with 'em, some guys never get 'em, and some guy's get one chance in a lifetime to ..."
There was a loud crash on the back of the Vette. Ace reached for the Glock while Gumby passed wind. The hatchback window was fractured like a jigsaw puzzle.
"What was that?!" Gumby whispered.
Ace opened his door and rolled out of the car onto the parking lot. Then he jumped up, aiming his gun around the rear of the car.
"Oh, shit!"
"What is it, Ace?"
Ace bent down and picked it up. "It's a fucking coconut." They both looked up at the palm tree overhanging the car. There was a batch of coconuts there.
"I gotta go to the bathroom, Ace."
"Hold it in. We're doin' the job now. My juices are up for it."
"Ace, I can't hold it in. It's already out. I shit my pants."
"Oh Christ, Gum." Ace looked around. "Take your underwear off and throw them in the bushes over there."
Gumby climbed out of the car like a baby with a load in its diaper. He waddled bow-legged over to the bushes.
"Turn around, Ace," he whispered.
"For the love of Christ!" Ace turned around.
After a few minutes, Gumby came out of the bushes, red-faced.
"You okay now?" Ace asked.
"Yeah."
"I want you to concentrate on what I'm sayin'."
"Okay, Ace."
"You concentratin'?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Okay, this is how it's goin' to play. You're gonna sit here, in the car, in my seat. You see anyone or anything that's trouble, you honk three times. Then you count to five. You honk 3 times again. Then you take the car and drive back to the beach at the end of the road. I'll walk down the beach and meet you there. You got that?"
"Yeah."
"Repeat it back to me."
"If there's trouble, I honk three times, count to five, and then meet you at the beach."
"Gum, you got to honk three times again, after you count to five!"
"Yeah, that's what I meant."
"Now, gimme the paper with the security code." Gumby handed it over. "Gimme the photo of the painting, too." Gumby complied.
"Now stay cool. If this is on the up and up, I should be back in five minutes with the painting."
"I'll be here," Gumby said climbing into the driver's seat.
When Ace opened the passenger door, Gumby jumped out of his skin. Ace pulled the seat back, and placed a small painting with a heavy metal frame in the hatchback area. He put a towel stolen from the Holiday Inn over it. Ace wrinkled his nose again.
"Christ, Gum, you're some gas bag tonight."
"I can't help it."
"Move over." Gumby slid over.
Ace started the Vette and eased out of the church parking lot. When they were back on Perry something road, Ace turned to Gumby and smiled. "Easiest money there ever was!"
"Fucken A!" Gumby shouted.
Gumby reached into the back and picked up the painting.
"Be careful with it, Gum!"
"I'll be careful. I just want to hold it. I ain't never held nothin' worth five million."
"Don't seem like much, does it?" Ace asked, glancing over. "Except for the frame. Gold plate. Good stuff."
"You sure this is the right one? I thought it woulda been bigger."
"Check it out yourself." Ace threw Gumby the photo. Gumby looked from the photo to the picture and back. Then he nodded.
It was eight thirty now. There were a handful of cars on the road. Ace forced himself to drive slow, although every nerve in his body screamed go baby, go! When they reached the Sanabel causeway, Ace was thinking about how he would spend his share. A million dollars! He would collect the money from the insurance wimp back in New York, and then he would take a long vacation. Hawaii, maybe. Lay in the sun and .....
Gumby saw it first, when they were half way over the causeway.
"Ace, check it out."
Ace got a sick feeling in his stomach as he watched the bridge go up from a half mile away. The insurance weasel didn't tell him the Sanabel bridge was a draw bridge! Asshole!
He checked the rearview and saw lights flashing, fast approaching from behind. A siren was getting louder.
Ace looked up, and in the clear sky of Southwest Florida, he could see a million stars. Among those stars were the strobe lights and womp womp of a police helicopter.
Ace looked over at Gumby. "Must have been a silent alarm somewhere."
"We got to get rid of the painting, Ace."
"Shit, Gum."
"Ace, I got a wife. I got a kid. She's gonna leave me I go up again. We ain't got no chance if we keep this painting."
Ace slowed the Vette to ten miles per hour. "Go ahead, " he sighed.
Gumby flung the small Picasso out of the Vette window like a Frisbee. It spun out and downward into the deep channel of the Caloosahatchee River. They both watched it sink.
"The gun, too, Ace." Gumby held out his hand. The Glock met the same fate as the painting.
Ace slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "I hope to tell ya, Gum, she isn't worth it."
Gumby hesitated, then whispered, "You did do her, didn't you?"
"I tried not to, Gum. She came on to me."
Gumby slapped him. Ace took it.
"I'm sorry, Gum." Gumby put his face in his hands and leaned against the window. Ace thought, this has got to be the worst moment of my life. And it still ain't over yet.
Ace drove up to the where the bridge was raised and stopped. The Vette was the only car on their side. The other side had about two dozen cars waiting to get on the island.
Ace watched the police emergency helicopter land. He glanced back as the siren become louder, blew two quick bursts, and then was silent. An ambulance pulled up along side the helicopter. A paramedic team jumped out.
The helicopter team and paramedics ran to the bridgemaster's booth and carried out the bridgemaster. Someone shouted, "Heart attack." They strapped the gray haired man to the stretcher, and placed him inside the helicopter. The helicopter team hurried back inside. The copter engine roared and the blades spun so fast they looked like they were going backwards. In a few seconds, the copter lifted off and was gone.
Ace sat there shaking his head, saying fuck me, fuck me, over and over again, while Gumby filled the Vette with digestive gases. Ace took out his pack of Luckies and motioned to Gumby. Gumby pushed the pack away. Ace pushed it back again.
"Look, I'm sorry, Gum. Maybe I was always smarter, but you was always better."
Gumby rubbed his eyes on his sleeve. He took a cigarette from the pack with a shaking hand.
"We better go outside to light these, Gum. There's enough of your fart gas in here to blow us up." Gumby laughed, and then joined Ace for a smoke. They leaned against the front of the car, watching the paramedics try to figure out how to lower the bridge. The drivers on the other side were pissed off and impatient. Some honked their horns.
"You know, Gum," Ace said inhaling deep on his smoke. "It's got to be fate."
"Yeah, Ace. Gotta be."
