when it comes to writting lyrics yeah i do, esp when i go first in the battles i tend to put too many rhymes in there coz im too picky, unless i have a really good concept and plan it properly.

Five knocks at the door brought Verne to it. Leon in a grey wool overcoat and a grey tuxedo entered and shook the trembling hand of Verne’s with both hands while greeting him. “How ya’ doin’, Verne,” Leon said in a low-toned, voice.

“Ok,” he replied. Verne took Leon’s coat off and hung it on a flimsy coat rack near the door. He stopped to admire its authentic cashmere and Leon pivoted to admire the room. The room was modest and the furniture comprised of mostly oak wood detail. A couch sat over a mosaic rug before them, and a staircase exited to the upper floor on their right as they faced into the main room. Leon leaned to peer down a hallway on the left side of the staircase and turned to Verne. “Zoey cleaned up quite nice here, didn’t she Vern. What’d ya’ do to get her to do that?”

“Nothin’,” he replied. “She respects you. The minute she heard your name she got right to it.”

“Bizzy Bee.” Impressed, Leon humbly nodded and curiously looked about.
Verne made way through the main room and into the dining room. He pulled a chair from under a small table, then pulled another on the opposite side and seated himself, bringing his arm across and over the table with an open hand, motioning Leon to sit. The room was dim. Just a light on the edge of the table illuminated their fronts. Verne picked up an awaiting deck of cards from the center of the table and Leon fell into curiosity. “Damn, Verne, how’d ya’ get that?” Leon pointed to Verne’s wounded cheek.

Verne lifted his hands to expose their unsteadiness, and tilted his head sarcastically. “How do ya’ think? Hey, don’t worry about it.” Discomfited, Verne examined the card box and buckled with slight self-consciousness as he sat before Leon’s observing sight. After a moment of mutually uneasy silence, Verne spoke quietly and shrugged his shoulders with discontent. “I just thought we’d count cards, you know I ain’t played wit’ ya’ in a while. So, what are you all polished up for?”

Leon straightened his collar and pulled his tux tight as he examined it. After a moment of thought he looked to Verne. “There’s no need to feel uncomfortable here Verne. How long have we been in relation?… Forever it seems right? And I know I haven’t seen ya’ in what seems like just as long, but I was hopin’ maybe I could take ya’ out tonight. I mean I know it’s kinda’ last minute and all, and I know I’m catchin’ ya’ by surprise wit’ this, but hey, I haven’t seen ya’ in so long and I’ve been sendin’ them errand boys so much, I began to forget what ya’ look like. Ya’ know what I mean. So, I wanna change that. I wanna’ take ya’ out. Let‘s do somethin’.”

Verne, shuffling the cards, paused with surprise and with his head bowed, looked up at Leon unsure of what awaited him.

“After a game of cards first, of course,” Leon continued. “One game, right?”

Verne looked up. “Well I planned on a few.”

Leon rolled his eyes unsurprised. “Nah see, I planned on takin’ ya’ out, Verne.” He smirked. “What’d ya’ think, I was goin’ to sit up late wit’ ya’ and flip cards all night.”

Verne shrugged shuddery eyed and lackadaisically as a limp look of looming boredom overtook his face.

Leon crossed his fingers and placed them on the table as he spoke modestly. “I’m a busy man now Verne, you know that.”

“Yeah I know that!” Verne responded turning harshly to the side of his wooden seat. He arose quickly and dropped the cards lightly to the table. Leon remained sitting, and reached for the deck.

“You’re not dealin’ them cards,” Verne warned quickly and sternly. Displeased, Leon set them down.

Verne opened the refrigerator, peeked in and quickly closed it. “Zoey! Zoey!” He waited for a response, but no response came. “Zoey!!!”

“What?” she yelled annoyed from above. Feet sounded down the stairs. “What!” her voice starting on a sharp decline into softness, as Leon came into her eye.

Verne stood in the doorway. “Look in the ice box!”

After a moment of hesitation, she did so. “So, what about it?”

Slumped, Verne turned to her and licked his K-9 under his lip. “What’s missing?”

“Oh,” she said sighing and closing the fridge door. She speedily found the doorway.

Verne yelled out the doorway, “I told you to keep it filled.” Vern turned his angry eyes to the table.

Zoey descended the cellar stairs into darkness. Her stomps expressed her thoughts,
--pissed off. “Why does he have to do that in front of him? Bastard!”

Verne's weight crept onto the chair, and his elbows felt the grain of the table. He arched the cards and tried to regain steady breath.

Leon stared at him curiously. “Zoey don’t deserve that kind thing Verne. My advice is treat her nice, she’ll treat you nice. Know what I mean? Ya’ ever thinka’ that?”

Verne looked up at him quickly. “I don’t need your suggestion. Don’t tell me how to talk to Zoey. It’s not as easy as it sounds anyway. You don’t know her, or hear her. She’s dizzy Leo. Down right Dizzy. Don’t you go off presumin’.”

Leon raised his fingers off the table and waved them. “Alright. Just settle down, will ya’.”

Verne turned quickly and again yelled in the direction of the doorway, “I will, once she gets up here with my calm.”

Chapter 3: Speak Easy

It grew darker that evening. A vintage 1929 Cadillac crept onto a gravel parking lot with slow advancement. Within sat Leon and Verne. They came to a stop overlooking the Lake Michigan bay and sat there in silence with blank awkward stares.
Leon broke the silence. “I bought a crossbow, from an old sports shop when I was 26. The guy really talked me into it. Twenty bucks for a crossbow. It came with five bows. I put that thing in my trunk and was on the head home. A feelin’ kept eatin’ at me. I pulled over. I think I was on a downtown shop strip. I opened the trunk, got that baby out. I got back in on the passenger side. I rolled down my window about 3 inches or so. I placed a bow on the shoot, gave it room in the window and planted it in the face of a passing man. He fell to the ground and started bleedin’, people started runnin’ around and screamin’ and all that mindless nonsense. But he just layed there with that metal bow stickin’ out his face. I rolled up my window and just sat there. Everybody was lookin’ around. No one even knew the killer was five feet from the scene. Five feet from them. Somebody leaned down and peered in my window. I pointed the bow right in her face. How easy it would have been. Of course, I had tented windows and she couldn’t see in, but she kept tryin’. I found it amazing how in that one second that man was dead and in that one second it could cause such chaos on that street over a man none of them knew. I sped off and went home. It wasn’t a hit. I did that for no reason at all.” Leon nodded as he spoke and smirked uncomfortably. “No reason other than to see if it would work. Now I think…. I think that’s as close as I have come to regret. But the feeling. The feeling was so definite. Beyond the routine assignments. The feeling. It was beyond comprehension. And now I think about what you said earlier. That man is layin’ in some box somewhere, in some hole, in some state of decay. That’s a striking image Verne. I put’em there.”

Verne sat uncertain with nothing to respond. He did not look at Leon and Leon did not look at him. “You remember this place Verne?”

Verne nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Leon tilted his head and viewed the building through the windshield. “Everybody still comes here ya’ know. Your sure you‘re alright with comin’ here. We can always go to your joint if you want. It‘s lonely there, but if you want to.”

Verne looked out his side window unsure. “This is fine.”

Leon found the cool lake wind in his face as he exited his car and drifted towards a building on the beach with a sign reading “Lance’s”. He turned to see Verne still seated in the car staring at his lap. Leon cupped his mouth. “Come on Verne. What are ya’ waitin’ for. Afraid to get sand in your shoes.” He motioned to Verne. “Come on.”

The door opened as Verne prepared himself for social interaction. He caught up to Leon and Leon turned to him. “Take your shoes off.”

Verne looked at him in hesitation.

Leon grinned.. “Unless you want sandcastles in your shoes.”
Small shrubs dotted the faint beach and the sand was fine and sunk deep as they stepped. A tree line greened the sides of the small beach and rapped the lake for a long distance. Parts of the city could be seen to the left shimmering its life above the low trees. It was night now and the moon smiled upon the waves as it enjoyed its reflection. The waves echoed their motion in a rhythmic manner, effectively setting rest to any spawning tension in Verne’s mind. Verne kept his eyes to the ground and pondered his thoughts calmly as they approached the door. “Will they remember me? Can they remember me? Will they try to remember me? Will they want to remember? Will they even care to remember me?”

With Leon leading, they approached the entrance. Before the door sat a concrete slab where Leon and Verne re-entered their shoes. Beyond the entrance, they entered a small lobby and came to another door with a host standing before it. Leon held his hands together at his stomach, cleared his throat and spoke to the host directly. “Joe sent me.”

The host’s hand found the doorknob and a room was opened before them. Slowly they entered its space. Verne felt he occupied insignificantly little space, in comparison to Leon.
“Please remember me,” he thought. “God damn, it‘d be a shame if they don‘t remember me! They have to…how could they not?”

As they entered, a circular bar operated at their right and the explosion of trumpets, saxophones, and drums sounded with a slow tempo on a low stage with a small dance area in front of it at their left. The area was lit primarily with neon lights and signs. It offered a soothing environment but the noise offered the opposite. Verne avoided eye contact with those passing and he did not speak, but thought anxiously. “So far nobody. Give’em a chance.”

A man approached with a smile and met Leon with a hug and tried to speak over the instruments. “Ya’ come on a good night Leo. Lance is getting a new shipment tonight.”

“I heard. That‘s why I’ve come. I owe‘em a favor.”

The man took his eyes off Leon and turned them to Verne. “Who’s this loser. I’ve been watchin’. Ya’ noticed Leo. He’s been following’ ya’ around ever since ya’ walked in.” Sluggishly he walked around Leon and Leon turned to face the mans back. The man stood eye to eye with Verne. He became sharp and pointed with his words. “Get lost. What, ya’ think followin’ the big man around makes ya’ somebody’? Why don’t you beat it!”

Leon turned and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Woe, Woe, Woe. Idle down. He’s wit’ me.”

Light laughs emitted the man‘s words. “What Leo ya’ get a new errand boy or somethin’. He sure looks like a cheap errand boy to me. Looks like some kinda' God-damned “Leo” replica.” The man’s tone steepened and his head twisted in antagonism. “Ya’ got your birth mark on your asshole like Leo too? Bet you do don’t ya’, ya’ pathetic son of a bitch. I see you type of fellas’ all the time. Only live to breathe his exhaust. I gotta’ ask. How‘s it taste.”

Verne wiped his cheeks with a hand, took his stare away from the bar and slowly turned to migrate his eyes over the man’s shoulders to Leon on the opposite side. Leon stood with a smirk staring at the back of the man’s head almost finding pleasure in Verne’s harassment. Leon’s eyes soon found Verne’s gawking from around the imposing man’s head. Verne found no need to blink. Although he verbalized not a word, his stare unwound the message clearly. ‘You son of a bitch.’ Leon’s interpretation matured accurately and he stepped forward. “Hey. Now before we have a bar room brawl here, let us start again. Verne this is Spadie Truda. Spadie this is Vernon Largo.”

Spaidie spoke disgustedly, “Is that so now? The legendary Vernon Largo. That ain’t worth a damn.”

Verne’s shaky muscles tensed slightly more and he spoke almost whispering. “So you’ve hearda' me?”

“Yeah, Yeah. I’ve hearda’ ya’. I’ve heard stories of that name. But they’re just stories… and a name” Spadie leaned slightly closer. “But ya’ see that ain’t worth a damn to me. Because the past ain’t worth a damn to me. You’re the past pal and the past ain’t goin’ nowhere. I hope you know that, ‘cuz I’m up next. I’ve waited a long time and I’m steady steppin’ to the plate, leavin’ all the worst for you jack. It’s Leo and Spadie on the jobs now. So don't even think about it.”

Added (08/Nov/25, 7:59 Am)
---------------------------------------------
A shallow beat in Verne‘s mind thumped distinctively and solid on two pulsating temples accompanied with a raging solo performed by anger again rumbling a dark opera in his mind. Spadie placed his hand on Verne’s shoulders. “If ya’ got trouble sleepin’, say it to ya’ self. See how it sounds. Leo and Spadie on the jobs. It’ll sing ya’ to sleep. I guarantee it.” Spadie stepped back to stand side by side with Leon who was looking on into the crowd.
“Look at’em Leo. He can’t even stand steady. He’s scared. Just from that. Look at his hands trembling’. Like a scared little rabbit. Pathetic.”

Verne spoke quietly. “My hands always tremble…”

Spadie turned away swiftly and placed his arm on Leon’s back suggesting a path. They disappeared into the crowd.

By now, the tempo in Verne’s mind pounded and the ringing began its slow roar in his ear. The band behind him seemed to be blasting louder than ever almost as if to purposely irritate him. Their sounds penetrated and he felt them slamming axes into his lingering calm. He seated himself on a bar stool and inspected the crowd. Many people he recognized, but he did not attempt to self-present. His thoughts ran wild. “Leon you bastard. You son of a bitch. What are you doin’ with that low down, no good, dirty, two-time losin’ sleaze-ball? I could kill that son of a bitch. I could kill you Leon for not already killin’ that son of a bitch. You God damn piece of shit. Sittin’ back and doin’ nothin’ the whole damn time. Suckin’ up all the glory. Sure, your the now and I’m the past. But I made you the now Leon. I eroded the path for your rise. Now you take it with not gratitude, as if you readied the rise solo. Damn you. I created you and you‘ve takin’ what should have been mine. You’ve created that man and that man will surely take what should’ve been mine from you.” He spun the stool and landed his eye on the liquid selection. He knocked his knuckles on the counter and with it came the attention of the bar tender. The tender began pointing at various bottles and for each Verne signaled a negative. He shook his head and motioned for intimacy.

The tender slapped a towel from his neck onto the counter, advanced and leaned close to Verne. “Keep ya’ voice down and speak easy. What do ya’ want?”

Verne sat back. “What do ya’ got?”

The tender waved his hand across the large selection. “Come on guy this is a Speak Easy. We got the liquid truth, the fluid medicine. We got alcohol. Anything you want.”

“Don’t you guys got some kinda’ special of the night or somthin’ like that.”

“Well I can suggest this here.” He pulled a brown bottle off the shelf. “It’s cheap, but it does its job.”

Verne placed his hand on his forehead and his elbow on the counter as he nodded. “Okay.” One glass crept into his mouth and then exited again just as fast. “Are you kiddin’ me? What is this splash? Goddamn monkey rum. Get me somethin’ good.”

The tender glared at him and took back the glass as he grabbed a new bottle. Verne continued. “I can’t believe this joint sells that polluted runoff. Damn armatures do business here, disgracing the good stuff. Don’t you know that polluted stuff kills people? This whole goddamn place is floppin’. This place used to be top quality….” Something caught Verne’s eye. “Wait a minute. What’s that?…. Give me that.”

Two bottles of O.B. White Lightening sat on the bottom shelf. “That’s my… That’s my brew.” Verne exclaimed. “I can’t believe it makes it all the way out here!” With his two shaking hands, he emptied two glasses and the beat in his head slowed to a distant hollow echo.
A hand slid onto his shoulder. The voice of Leon sounded. “Hey Verne. I need ya’ to come help us out on the docks. Lance is about to make a run for another shipment. Ya’ get a boat ride if ya’ come with. Plus we need a new voice to call off the guards.”

Verne shrugged.

Leon’s voice brightened. “Come on you’ll enjoy.”

Three hours later Verne slowly retuned to his seat. The bar was sparsely populated and the music had long stopped. He sat down heavily, with a tux soiled with dirt. He popped his neck and slammed his fist on the counter. Bottles slid his way and he finished two and began with more. He filled his throat until the stool became smaller and smaller, until it became more and more round. More glasses filled then emptied. His arms became heavy, his mind became empty and a deep heat spread throughout his body. His eyes grew droopy and he spun on the cushion as the stool spun in the spinning room. He left the bottles dry until the spine of his back felt the floor.

Four white-walled Daytons planted their rubber beside the curb outside a brick house. Leon circled the car front to Verne's side and struggled to elevate him. At the door, Leon knocked and called for entrance. “Zoey. Open up! Come on! Verne's heavy.”

There was no reply.

“Come on! Alright, Verne, we’re gonna’ have to do this our selves.” He laid him against the entrance wall to the door. He leaned down to Verne and patted his cheek near the gash. Verne snapped into consciousness and grabbed Leon's patting hand firmly.

Leon attempted to pull away. “Calm down Mousetrap, it’s just me.”

Verne's eyes again fell shut.

Leon patted his face on the other cheek. “Come on, Verne. Where’s ya’ keys at?”

Verne sloppily motioned to his slack pockets. Leon sent his hands in search. Again, Verne's hand gripped Leon's wrist in an instant, his eyes wide-awake and staring in Leon's. Leon began warningly. “Hey, knock it off. What’s the big idea? Let go, Verne. I told you already, it’s me.”

Verne's head rolled back again and Leon arose to the door. “What the hell’s your problem?” Leon mumbled. He plugged the key and the door gave. Into the main room they spilled. Leon dropped Verne on a couch directly a few feet in front of the door.

Zoey came peaking around the stair wall. “I thought someone was breakin’ in.”

“Here.” Leon handed Zoey the keys.

“Where’d you fellas’ go?”

“Lance’s ol’ Speak Easy across town.”

“How many?” she asked warily.

“291 dollars worth. By 1:00 he was fallin’ off the stool.” Leon spoke as if he was amused by Verne.

She sighed in disgust. “He always does this. Goes out and spends all his money. On that poison.”

Verne's eyelids shuttered throughout the conversation, catching quick glimpses at Zoey and Leon standing over him. The room was a blur and everything within it seemed to orbit. The images faded.

Zoey wrapped an arm around her stomach. “I’ve made a big mistake, Leo. A real big one.”

“What might that be?”

Oblivious to her words she recognized and modified their direction. “Oh, nothing I just… I broke something that’s all.”

“Oh. Come on. Grab his feet. Help me get’em upstairs.”

“No way. I hate when he’s like this, I don’t want him next to me or anywhere near my bed.”

“Alright.” Leon turned to Verne and slipped a pillow under his head.

Leon leaned down and patted Verne‘s cheek. “Now don’t forget, Verne, tribute’s this Friday.” Leon transcended the exit