Sal's was a pawn shop on 6^th in the Wilshire District that served as a clearing house for dirty deeds. They didn't deal in fenced goods which allowed them to stay under the radar with the cops. Instead, they took a commission on job placements, sort of like an employment agency. The way it worked was you would go to Langer's Deli, sit in the last stool at the counter, get a cup of coffee and wait for Sal or Bernie to show up for lunch and pick up the last book or matches in the tray by the receptionist in which you had written your first name and phone number along with the code 007 meaning you were looking for work. Then you waited. If they had anything a guy named Jose would call and arrange to meet at a hole in the wall taco joint on Alvarado that was super busy and noisy as hell for a short conversation where if everything looked kosher to Jose, you would get a phone number and a time for a meeting at which you would get some details from Sal's wife over drinks in noisy bar. Sal and Bernie never associated with known criminals in public, no phone conversations, no walk-ins at the pawnshop, no contacts whatever, that's how they remained in business for so long.

Sal's wife, Cheryl, was all business as she drank her gin and tonic and whispered to me out of the side corner of her mouth while we sat at the bar, only looking at each other in the mirror behind the bar. Bernie remembered me, Sal did not. The only job they had was a hit for a customer they didn't like to do business with because he was so cheap it was hard to make it worthwhile. “He goes by the name of Equal because he's from Ecuador He'll try the chisel you down” she warned. “We won’t blame you if you say no, the guys a real asshole! Use a burner phone, it's the only thing that is safe.” she added and got up and left without saying good buy. I pocked the matches she had left and started my long bus ride back to the Valley. Once the bus had made some stops I took a peak at the inside of the match book. There was printed the name “Danilo” and a 626 phone number. I can't believe I was already considering doing a hit for Christ sake. Desperate times and desperate men with few opportunities

My conversation with Danilo was short and salty, “You got something write on?”

“Yup.” I answered.

“Tomorrow you come 1309 South San Pedro tomorrow about 8 in morning and wait in line with day labor guys tomorrow. Wear work clothes, wait you turn. The boss know who you are when you go his office for interview.” he explained in what I thought was a heavy Mexican accent. South San Pedro Street, not too bad, I could take the commuter train to Union Station and be there in an hour. I was glad to get home to the rest of the ice cream and finish cleaning the gun.

The ride from Van Nuys through North Hollywood, Burbank, the Glendale stop and Union Station went by quick with me thinking about my ideal full service crash which includes meals, Dutch masters and White Owl cigars, a never empty mini fridge of Pabst, laundry, cleaning, sex on demand and a great location across from Santa Anita Race track with a taco and Korean Bar B Q truck right next door. What a sweet life I envisioned. I've earned it I thought.. I could feel the Glock stuck in the back of my pants making a reassuring dent in the seat back. What I had learned about the guy Equal I was to meet was scary and I wasn't about to show up with a knife to no gun fight. He was Ecuadorian, into all kinds of mischief and with lots of enemies.

The walk to South San Pedro was further than I expected but it was only about 7:30 when I got there. The line was already formed and I took my place. Everything looked ratty, the buildings, the people, the dirty streets. There was a tent city down the block and something I hadn’t seen before, on the other side of the street, the dirt area between the sidewalk and the street was sectioned off into makeshift stalls where vendors were already selling everything you could think of to eat, produce, fast food, clothes, party supplies, you name it. Some stalls had those aluminum frames with canvas covers; most had wood pallets for partitions and floors. The stoves were 55 gallon drums turned into barbecues. Either the city organized it or didn't care. What a scene! The smells were making me hungry.

The line kept getting longer and longer with both men and women waiting to work. I still had no idea what the job was and figured I didn't want to know. No way I was here looking for the kind of work they were offering. Around 8: a better dressed Latin guy came out and started yelling in broken English, “Stay in line, everybody keep line, take you turn.” He then repeated what I suspected was the same thing in Spanish. His accent and way of speaking sounded like the guy I had talked to on the phone yesterday.

He then walked the line and when he passed me for the second time he stopped and said, “You the guy I talk to yesterday about special work?”

As he sized me up and down I answered, “Think so. You Danilo?”

“This way.” he said and motioned with his head. I followed him through the steel door into a large warehouse space stacked floor to ceiling with what looked like those advertising throw-a-ways you find stuck in the fence or the gate. There were some tables stacked with of papers and people stationed behind in folding chairs drinking coffee and eating snacks, probably the hiring staff. I followed Danilo to the tables where he stopped and said, “Time to get started.” and motioned with his head for me to follow him toward some stairs leading to a mezzanine. We entered a small area with a crummy couch and he pointed for me to sit as he went through another door. There were no magazines to look at so I just sat there watching the door for what seemed like an hour but was probably only 15 minutes. Finally this different guy in a shiny suit and purple shirt open the door and said, 

“You the guy from Sal's that need some work? Lots of people looking for work. Kind of a buyers’ market.” 

I thought to myself, he's already setting me up, but didn't say anything. 

“Come on in and take a seat.” he added. 

I took the chair he pointed to and took a casual look around. The guy I figured was Danilo and another guy were sitting on either side of the desk where Equal took his seat and looked directly at me, a typical tactic. I forced a slight smile and said, 

“I understand you might have some work?”

“Sure, I got something that maybe we can make work, depends on you more than me. See, there's lots of unemployment out there and there's not much in this job. It's a witness things, maybe even just a scare thing, You got anything else lined up or are you ready to work?”

“I got a few things working, but I can make time.? I lied so as not to seem too desperate.

“Like I said,” he continued, “There's not much in this job for any of us so I need you to take a little less this time, we'll make it up on the next job. What do you say, can you work with me on this? If may just be some light stuff, no biggie, easy work, only half a day, maybe. We supply everything you need, just need you to be reasonable on the price.” He motioned for the other guy to hand him what turned out to be a gun which he placed on the desk between us.

“Is that to scare the guy with?” I asked.

“No, no, it's going to take more than a scare, but like I said, it will be a simple job, half days work and you can make it up on the next job, we have ongoing needs.”

“What's the pay?” I asked. I couldn't take his sales pitch any longer and needed to see just how much he had in mind.

“Look, it's a simple job. All you have to do is go out to Arcadia and take care of this Chinese lady that's testifying, an easy job, we provide all the tools, everything.”

This guy can't stop selling. “How much again?” I repeated.

“We can go $500. for this little job, but keep in mind there is much more where that comes from. You know we can get these Salvadorian MS13 guys to do it for a couple a hundred and a fix, but Sal says you are the best, you come highly recommended. What do you say”

$500. bucks ain't shit I thought to myself and Sal hadn't done business with me in years and never this kind of business. This guy was full of shit and maybe he could get some punk to do it for $200. but that would be the start of something he would regret, especially dealing with MS13.

“$500. isn't much money for taking everything from someone, especially a lady. Used to be you could make real money. Mind if I take a look at your piece?”

“No, go right ahead, its should be what you need, but you need to bury it after the job just to be sure.”

I picked up the gun, it was light, some off market brand that would maybe work and maybe wouldn't. For sure I would not use this I thought to myself. I slid one into the chamber and was surprised they had handed me a live gun. But then again, how was I to know the bullets were real. I reached around to my back and pulled out my Glock and ratcheted one into the chamber which resulted in some uneasy scraping of chairs as Danilo and the other guy went on high alert.

“That's not a reliable piece, too cheap. I prefer to use my own gun that I can be sure of. And besides, if you can get someone done for $500., nobody's safe. Either of these guys could hire a hit right now for that much.” which caused Equal to take a quick glance to his left at the guy I didn't know. My point was taken.

Equal recovered his composure and said in a not too friendly tone, “You taking the job or not?”

“I got to pass.” I answered.

He seemed pissed at the rejection and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“I think you should take this job and be happy for the work, times are not what they used to be. You just wasted everybody's time.” He went through all his selling points again and in a less strong arm voice asked me to reconsider once again.

“Sorry.” I said, “this kind of work used to pay $10,000., $25,000. and was well worth it. You could buy a car with one payday. You're asking me to take pennies on the dollar.”

Danilo reached inside his shirt and pulled out his piece and said to Equal. “You pendejo, I tell you you got to pay fair for the last time. It my sister that goes to jail, you fool, $500! we done.”

The other guy took a step back to get out of the way and maybe see which side he would choose. I moved for my gun. Equal reached for the cheap piece he had slid toward me and Danilo shot him in the back of the head. The other guy reached for his gun and Danilo shot him dead center in the chest. I turned to Danilo as he turned to me and light shot from the end of both guns.

Jeff yelled from the kitchen for June, “Where's Billy? Uber just called to say everything was okay and he can start on Monday.