Realistic or Modern – 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞.

[monterey]

BETTER SING A MONEY TUNE.
written by monterey & Zenna
​

 

[monterey]

CHAPTER 01: A'S GIFT
"just a simple friend, i like simple men."​

 

[monterey]

johnnie ganson

MOOD | better be worth it.

OUTFIT | coat, sweater, jeans—the works. reminder to self: do some laundry, douchebag.

LOCATION | a's place.

TAG | Zenna

Things had been going okay. Were going okay. He'd hit a liquor store the night before—some little hole-in-the-wall right off the freeway—and while it'd been risky taking the joint by himself, it had gone just well enough. Just.

None of the costumers had tried to pull a hero act, and the guy at the counter hadn't given him much trouble, but the owner liked to keep the money in a safe in the backroom, and the cashier hadn't known the code. Johnnie guessed they'd had a slow night, because the take from the register was small. Beggars couldn't be choosers, though, so he hadn't stuck around for long after he lined his pockets.

He'd been a few miles out of the city when he finally found a motel shitty enough to hide out in. He wasn't sure what it was about these places that threw the cops off. Maybe it was the way no one in them would be willing to sell each other out, or maybe it was just the simple fact that no pig wanted to wade through drug dens for a single arrest. Either way, Johnnie was thankful for it; he owed his freedom to more rundown motor inns than he could count.

The only vacancy had been for a small room at the far end of the lot, with a broken radiator and water stains on the ceiling. The tiles in the bathroom were yellowing, and there was a dark ring around the inside of the tub, like no one had ever bothered to clean it properly. He could hear shuffling too, like someone was moving around in the neighboring room. Considering the state of things, though, he wouldn't have been surprised at all if it was just the sound of mice living in the walls.

Plain and simple, it was a terrible place, but the cable worked, so at least he had that.

It was the next day, somewhere around midnight, when his phone started ringing. He didn't even need to look at the screen to know who it was—there was only one person who called him these days.

"Yeah?”

There was no immediate answer, just the mechanical clacks of someone typing. Then, a fumbling sound, and a familiar, thin voice sounding over the line. “J.”

“A,” He replied.

“Heard about what you did. Can’t ever keep still for long, can you?”

Of course. A always found out about things. As long as it involved Johnnie, no matter the time or the place, he’d know. He had eyes everywhere, he told him once, and it wasn’t hard to believe it. “Yeah, whatever.”

“‘Whatever’ my ass. You’re lucky you didn’t get picked up.”

“I’m not stupid, man. The place was dead, barely any cops around and— Look, this all you called for?”

A made a sound like he wanted to argue, or at the very least complain, but he just sighed into the phone instead. “No, actually. I, uh… I got you something.”

“Yeah?"

“Yeah. I made some calls, got in touch with some people.”

“And?”

“And I might’ve just set us in the right direction.”

Johnnie sat up. “Really now?”

“There’s this loan joint. It could be real good for us.”

“A loan joint? C’mon, A.” He could do better than that. He needed to do better than that. He deserved to make it big—they both did. “What about a bank? There’s gotta be one somewhere.”

“Baby-steps, J. We can’t just dive head first into this, and we need the money. This’ll be good. Trust the process.”

He sucked his teeth. “Just give me something, man.”

“I am giving you something. Moderate risk for a good payout.” A chuckled drily. “You won’t have to hit any more liquor stores for a while, either.”

Johnnie eased down a little, chewing on his lip. “Who’ve we got on this?"

“New guy. He’s in circles. People know him.”

“Doesn’t sound like I know him.”

“Yeah, because you’re such a fuckin’ star,” A scoffed.

“I would be if you just—“

“Tomorrow, J. I need you here by tomorrow.”

He made a face. The motel he was staying in was over the state-line, and even if that wasn’t the case, Johnnie wasn’t especially keen on drawing attention to himself. He didn’t think the cops knew what kind of person to keep an eye out for, but he didn’t want to take the risk.

A must’ve guessed what his silence meant, because he sounded agitated. “You’re in the clear. Some bust went down elsewhere. The police won’t spread themselves thin on two incidents.”

Johnnie paused, considering. He'd have to leave soon. Drive through the night, take the backroads just in case. A had never failed him before, but he still wasn't sure about all of this. Then again... well, trust the process.

“Okay. Tomorrow."

"You sure? Don't bail on me."

"I said, 'tomorrow'."

A laughed—some mirthful, pitchy sound—and then the line went dead.

————————————————​

"Here" was an unassuming house at the far end of a suburban street, with flowerbeds and an ugly ceramic dog on the front porch. Johnnie left his car at the curb, then crossed the lawn and stepped up to the door. He kept pausing to looking over his shoulder, though. There was a car parked in the driveway, one that he didn't recognize, and he wasn't sure if that meant he was late or if A had finally put his money to good use.

He knocked. Waited. There was the sound of barking, followed by a sharp shush!, a few dozen words he couldn't make out and finally, silence. He was about to knock again when the door swung open, revealing a tiny, older woman holding a growling terrier closely to her chest. She squinted up at him through her glasses, until her face lit up with recognition.

"Johnnie!"

She ushered him in, squeezing his forearm affectionately.

"Nice to see you too, Kathie," He said, shrugging off his coat. "How's things?"

Kathie shuffled down the hall, stepping into a small living room. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old. What about you, hun? How've you been?"

Johnnie followed after her but lingered at the room's threshold, watching skeptically as she sat and set down her dog besides her. "Good enough. Been busy with work."

"Oh, what's that you do again? Architecture? Construction?"

"Contracting."

"Right, right. You know, that's what I wish Andy was doing, but he never leaves that damn basement of his."

He shrugged. "Well, Andy is Andy."

"You're right about that," Kathie muttered, but there was a softness in her voice. "He keeps good care of his mama though, so I can't complain."

"Mhm. Guess not."

She looked at him for a good, long moment before she turned back to the television. The dog stepped into her lap, pressing its head against her hand. "Well, you go ahead now. Andy's down there with that friend of his."

Johnnie smiled tightly, stepping out of the doorway and back into the hall. He caught a whiff of coffee as he made his way over to the basement door, but he didn't stop as he eased it open and headed down the stairs.

"–get it? We don't want to make too much noise with this."

He paused, listening.

"There's really only the county police to worry about. I'm still not sure how good they are at responding to things like this, though. And, well, Johnnie's good at stores and shops but, this... this is different."

Johnnie's brows drew together. He hopped down the last few steps, swinging around the corner.

Andy looked up from where he'd been hunched over a table, gesturing at a set of papers laid out across it. For a moment he seemed surprised by Johnnie's being-there, but he wasn't paying him much attention. There was a guy standing at the other end of the table, one he didn't recognize.

"Hey," greeted Johnnie. "What'd I miss?"

coded by weldherwings.