Oh Margaret!

The tires were screeching, blue smoke billowed from below the car as Frank took the corner as fast as he could.  Somebody in a red pickup truck was chasing him and gaining fast.   The black 1972 El Dorado was his baby.  He was wearing white, white suite, white shirt and white shoes.  He always dressed well and looked good!

Frankie was a dealer, since he finished high school and even before that.  As some say, he was selling dope.  He was a nice guy and that was why he did well.  He never got into trouble.  It was surprising that today, he was running away from someone who most likely, wanted to have more than a chat with him.

Frankie was a pretty good driver but in this part of the city he didn’t have much of a chance.  After a few more blocks Frankie realized that he was going nowhere and decided to stop the car to talk to the guy who was chasing him.  He stopped the car and jumped out leaving the door ajar.  The red pickup stopped 100 feet behind, a big guy rolled out carrying a shotgun is his left hand. He must have been 5’9” and 300 lb.  He was wearing a blue logging shirt with jeans and blue sneakers.

“Hands up,” he shouted while pointing the shotgun at Frankie, “come this way.”  Frankie started slowly walking towards the hulking guy.  Frankie had this funny way of walking like swinging the waist to the left.  His blond hair was dancing in the wind while his face was frozen, not afraid but no signs of life, he was staring at the gunman straight in the eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the gunman, when Frankie was 30 feet away.

“No idea, what do you want from me?” returned Frankie.

“I am Margaret’s brother, you punk!” he bellowed jumping on top of Frankie.  He was too fast for Frankie.    Before he knew it, there was a storm of punches.  Soon Frankie’s legs gave way and he ended up on the ground, sore and bloodied from the punishment.

Facing the pavement, Frankie’s white suit was ripped and covered in the blood that was coming out of his mouth and cheeks. 

“Call me Mark,” said the ogre as he pulled Frankie up by the back of his white jacket.   

“I came to visit my little sister Margaret and I found an old address book and around your name there was a red circle.  Somebody called Margaret’s line, the person on the other end said to me that you were the cause of Margaret’s sadness and if I loved my sister I should beat the crap out of you...and that is what I am doing. He told me where to find you,” explained Mark.

“What have you done to my sister asshole?” he demanded, still holding tight to Frankie's jacket and giving him a good shake. Frankie’s face looked perplexed, he didn't understand what was going on.  Frankie moved gently and got loose from Mark.  He sat on the curb, grabbing his face, trying to put all the parts where they belonged.

“You got it all wrong Mark, I don’t know who called you and for what reason.  Margaret is my fiancée and we're getting married in September.  We haven’t had a fight. How come you didn’t ask her?” Frankie reasoned, holding his hurting face.  Mark was standing right in front of him looking down at him. He passed his hand over his head, scratching his scalp for a moment. 

“What are you saying?" he mumbled. He leaned over to Frankie, grabbed his arm and helped him up.

Frankie was dirty, bloody and beat up.  He looked like a windy hot summer day!

“You don’t look like a bad guy,” said Mark as he helped Frankie walk to his car.

 “I didn’t know...I'm taking you to Margaret to check the story. Follow me, I’ll buy flowers for you to give to Margaret.”

“She likes roses,” Frankie said while lowering himself into the car with difficulty. 

“Red roses,” he added.

  They drove slowly to where Margaret worked, she was a clerk at the hardwood store.

Mark got the roses.

“You wait for me here Frankie, I’m going to get Margaret, tidy up," he said with a friendly look.   He passed the roses and a bottle of water to Frankie, and then turned and walked towards the store.  As soon as Mark entered the store, Frankie turned the ignition of the black Cadillac and pushed the throttle all the way.  The tires started screaming, smoke trailed as the heavy Cadillac started rolling faster and faster with ease.

“Catch me if you can moron!” Frankie howled while flying away in his black Cadillac.