Moneyshot

By aj james

     Miles King was putting his life back on track after the chaos of getting out from under Mr. Sharpe's thumb two weeks ago.  An ordeal that had left the loan shark dead, his organization disintegrated, and Miles and his friends free to live their lives.  Tutti and J. D. scattered into the city of Indianapolis, resuming their lives of crime.  Luther took Loretta on a romantic vacation in Fort Lauderdale to ponder their next move after helping kill their former boss.  Everything seemed to be getting back to normal.

     "It's so good to be free of any loans.  Nobody's gonna mess with me now.  Got a big meeting today with a new investor.  If I make this deal, I'm gonna take King's Steakhouse national!  All about the Benjamins!  Yeah!" Miles cheered as he rolled into the parking lot of King's Steakhouse.  He parked in the spot marked 'Executive Chef/Owner' and climbed out of his brand-new Cadillac.

     A van screeched off the street, and power braked to a stop with its horn blaring.  A woman waved and screamed furiously from behind the wheel.

     "What the—?" Miles muttered as he focused on the driver.  "Tutti?  What are you doing here?" he called out in confusion and started walking toward her.

     An explosion rocked the steakhouse in a massive fireball.  Body parts, raw ingredients, and shingles flew.  Miles was blasted across the parking lot and slammed to the ground a few feet from Tutti.

     "Get in!  Get IN!" Tutti screamed as she revved the engine in frustration.  "We gotta get Jonny!"

     Miles rolled over in time to see a mushroom cloud a hundred feet tall as it enveloped his business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: aj james
• Release date: Apr 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393463825

aj james

aj james lives in a small town in Indiana and likes to read, write, cook exotic foods, eat them, hike, occasionally drive fast, and watch action movies full of car chases, shoot-outs, and explosions. On social media, you can follow him at: www.facebook.com/ajjamesbooks twitter.com/ajjamesbooks

Book preview

1

Wednesday, 10:23 AM, Los Angeles, California

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Action! snapped an athletic man with shoulder-length, thick, black hair.  Clothed in lavender-colored silk pajamas, he sat in a red canvas director’s chair with ‘Fred Longfellow’ stenciled in white across the back.  In front of him, three walls of a bedroom set made of an elaborately colored canvas tent spread out, depicting an exotic Arabian Nights theme.  In the middle of the room, on a raised dais made of large silk pillows, sat a gorgeous, ivory-skinned woman with platinum-blonde hair dressed in layers of multi-colored translucent scarves.  The scents of expensive perfume, sweat, and personal lubricants hung heavily over the set like rainclouds getting ready to unleash their payloads at the start of the monsoon season.

A small group of people, dressed mostly in shorts and t-shirts of various colors, stood frozen like mannequins facing the movie set’s three walls.  Most of the people manned pieces of stage equipment.  Lighting, microphones, and cameras all hummed with life.

A canvas flap snapped back, and an ebony-skinned man strutted in, stripped to the waist.  Built like an MMA warrior, his washboard abs glistened in the light, his head was shaved bare, and a diamond earring glinted on his left earlobe.  His lower half, sheathed in bright red satin pants, swished with each steady stride.

Yes, yes, that’s it... muttered Fred as the actors commenced.  Behind him stood a fit, petite woman with auburn hair tied in a bun and dressed in a crimson blouse and licorice black skirt holding a clipboard and a smartphone.  Suddenly, the phone vibrated.  The woman looked at the phone’s display screen.  Her eyes went wide.  She immediately tapped Mr. Longfellow on the shoulder.

Mr. Longfellow, Fred to everyone else in the business, ignored her first attempt at getting his attention.  He focused on the action before him.  The ivory woman and the ebony man stared lustily at each other and were proceeding with the scene.

The phone vibrated again.

The auburn-haired woman quickly tapped the Director’s shoulder again and thrust the annoying device in front of Mr. Longfellow’s face.  He silently shook his head in annoyance and took the phone from his assistant.  He motioned to everyone to continue the scene as he carefully got out of his seat and shuffled to the back of the set where a soundproof booth stood while the phone repeatedly demanded a response.  He slipped into the soundbooth as the scene unfolded.

Behind the booth’s thick glass windows was the sound man, Manny, who smiled in greeting and continued to monitor the microphones.  Fred nodded his head once at Manny in response, then sighed as the cell vibrated yet again in his hand.  He tapped the green circle, making the connection, and brought it up to his ear.

Yes, Fred whispered, It’s so good to hear from my favorite investor.

Fred’s face bore the look of a car salesman dutifully responding to an overly demanding but wealthy client.  Muffled responses drifted out of the device.

I’m in the middle of the first scene, now. It’s going very well.  I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, sir, Fred gushed as he watched the actors disrobe.

More muffled responses.

What?!?! Fred said sharply. What do you mean?

More muffled sounds.

But we were lucky to get our stars in the first place.  We only have them for a couple of weeks, Fred protested.  Beyond the window, the actors came together for the meat of the scene.

A pause from the muffled voice.

Encouraged, Fred barreled on, Cucumber-Melon is my big break-out.  You said so yourself.  You said it was high time a talent like mine got out from in front of the camera.  Show the world you said—

A sharp command cut across his argument, Do it!

Fred snapped up ramrod straight.  He said nothing for a few seconds as his mind wrestled for opposite reasons than the actors in the pillows. But, but, he stammered weakly.

Do it! the muffled voice snapped again, then hung up.

Fred frowned and shook his head at the abrupt change.  He stared helplessly at the talent as they continued their work. Damnit! he shouted in frustration and shook his fists. 

Manny, in his headphones, heard nothing.  The soundman jumped back in surprise at the fists suddenly waving in front of him. 

Fred shook his head one last time and stared hard at the scene building before him.  He reached over to a small microphone on a stalk labeled ‘PA’ and pressed a red switch at its base.

Moneyshot, he said.  The crew looked back at the soundbooth in confusion.  Moneyshot! he shouted.  The actors struggled to finish the scene, confused by the premature command.

Moneyshot!  My office!  Now!

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xoxoxo

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Friday, 8:07 AM, Indianapolis, Indiana

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Gotta get there.  Gotta get there, Miles muttered to himself as he steered his new Cadillac down the road. Can’t believe how late I am.  The black licorice-colored Cadillac rounded the final corner beautifully three blocks from King’s Steakhouse. 

Wow!  This baby handles like a dream! Miles exclaimed to himself.  Just like floating on a cloud.  I can’t believe I didn’t get one of these before.  Luther was so right to put Loretta in his, he paused in reflection a moment before continuing, I still can’t believe how everything went down last week. He shook his head in disbelief as memories flashed through his mind. That bastard Sharpe got what was coming to him.  My arm finally feels right too.  Yeah!  The Cast Iron Kid wins again! Miles cheered to himself and shook his right arm in the air for emphasis as the Caddy slid smoothly through the light morning traffic.

Gotta get in and get ready for my meeting.  This is it!  My franchise plan is coming together today.  Just enough time to make sure everyone’s working hard before my celebrity-chef investor shows up.  Good thing Samson’s never late.  Gotta impress.  This is my shot at the money!

King’s Steakhouse, a grand structure of dark woods and smoked glass windows, loomed large as he pulled into the spacious parking lot with a purr and parked in his reserved spot at the back of the building.  Several other cars already stood silent witness to his arrival as their owners diligently pursued their day’s duties inside.  A large box truck from Mai’s Meats sat at the loading dock, and several burly men were unloading the day’s order of fresh beef.  He tooted his horn as his Sous-Chef, Samson, stood to the side as the other men wrested with their loads on the raised dock’s platform.  Samson looked up, spotted his boss, and returned the wave with a shake of his head, pointing to his watch with a smile.

I know!  I know!  I’m late! Miles shouted and then muttered, As usual. He laughed at the long-standing joke between himself and his Head Chef.  He shut his car off and climbed out, calling, All right, all right, all right!

Just then, a marshmallow crème-colored minivan screamed into the middle of the parking lot and screeched to a sideways halt twenty feet away, smearing two burnt-colored skid marks across the pavement.  The driver laid on the horn and waved frantically at Miles.

What the— Miles said in shock.  The men on the dock stopped what they were doing and gawked at the excitement in their morning routine.

Tutti waved furiously from behind the wheel of the minivan, her left arm dripping something red like syrup, and yelled out the open driver’s window, Everyone run!  Quick! There’s a bomb!

The explosion ripped through the restaurant in an instant.  Boards, bodies, and blood erupted out into the morning sky.  A fireball formed a mushroom cloud overhead, turning charcoal colors like an overdone steak on a grill.  The shockwave shoved the meat truck onto its side, buckling it in three places and twisting it into a pretzel.  Shielded from the blast by his new Caddy, Miles was thrown fifteen feet through the air and crashed down next to Tutti’s minivan.  He came down hard on his right arm.  His car rocked five feet back and flipped over onto its side.  Pieces of meat plastered it like they had been shot out of a canon, some beef, and some human, shattering the windows and knocking holes into the body.

OW!  My arm! Miles cried out.

Get in! Tutti yelled.

My restaurant!  Samson!  The crew! Miles shouted as the first bits of debris started to rain down.  Frozen chunks of beef slammed down like cannonballs into the pavement all around him and the minivan. Noooo!

Tutti jumped out of her minivan and grabbed Miles to help him get to his feet, smearing red across his shoulder with her left hand. I’m sorry! she cried.

Miles struggled to his feet as more debris struck at his feet and exploded in a greasy red and white display. What!?!? he shouted at his rescuer. What did you say?!?!

I’m sorry!  I didn’t know!

You didn’t know!?!  You didn’t know!?! he cried in shock as his mind wrestled with the chaos before him.  A large chunk of unrecognizable meat impaled with a board like a giant popsicle slammed down on the roof of the minivan with a heavy thunk, bashing it in.

I didn’t know!  We gotta go!  Now! Tutti cried and tugged at Miles pulling him to his feet.

Things started clicking into place in Miles’ mind. What did you do?!? He shouted accusingly and jerked his left arm out of Tutti’s grasp.

I just found out.  There wasn’t time! I’m sorry! Tutti cried as she grabbed Miles bodily and started shoving him toward the passenger side. We gotta get Jonny!  He doesn’t answer his phone!

You did this?!?! Miles accused and fought her push.  He swung wildly as his words formed into action.

Tutti quickly ducked his swings and shouted, Miles!  Stop it!  We don’t have time for this!  We gotta get Jonny!

Miles continued to flail away at Tutti as a severed arm slid down from on top of the van, leaving a bloody smear of crimson across the windshield.  He paused mid-swing and caught his breath as the enormity of the appendage sank home.

Tutti took advantage of Miles’ meltdown and jerked the passenger door open. Get in! she cried out, and with a final shove, managed to force him into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him.  She sprinted around to the driver’s side, skirting a twisted torso bearing the remains of a tattered black shirt with an embroidered ‘Samson’ on it.  Blood spattered her bubblegum pink high-tops as she danced around it and jumped behind the wheel.

Tutti slammed her door shut, threw the minivan into gear and, gunned the engine.  The rear tires spun as they squealed out of the parking lot, adding the smell of burnt rubber to the sickly-sweet scent of death.

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xoxoxo

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Friday, 8:13 AM, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

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Yeah, Baby-girl.  That was some sunrise, Luther said with a smile as he directed Loretta back onto the blacktop emerging from the beach.  The warm rays of sunshine glinted off the curves of Loretta’s sleek body showing the deep richness of her custom lipstick red paint job.

I loved it.  That drive on the beach after was wonderful.  I love the beach! Loretta said excitedly through her speakers.

I know you do, Baby-girl, Luther said warmly. We gotta get you cleaned up, though.

Yeah, sand and salt get everywhere.  It’s so gritty.

Can’t let it have its way with my Baby-girl.  Gotta keep you in tip-top shape, Luther said as he pulled into a car wash.  A man wearing mirrored sunglasses, a sky-blue polo with the logo for ‘Swanson’s Hand Touch Car Wash’ embroidered on it, and navy-blue shorts stepped up to the driver’s side.  Luther ran the driver’s window down with the deft touch of his left index finger on one of Loretta’s buttons in the door.

The man in the sky-blue polo shirt leaned over and asked. How may I help you, sir? Luther saw a miniature version of himself, framed in the reflection of the man’s mirrored lenses, nestled in Loretta’s embrace as he picked out the embroidered name, ‘Vince.’

Well, Vince, we need the works.  Wash and wax.  Undercarriage spray.  Everything.  Gotta take good care of my Baby-girl.

Alright! You’ve come to the right place.  We love taking care of babies, sir.  Cadillacs are our specialty.  Pull on in, and we’ll get you fixed right up, Vince said with a broad smile.

All right, Luther said with a grin.  The big man touched the window control, and the glass silently slid shut as he caressed the accelerator and gently guided Loretta forward onto the starting blocks of the car wash.

This is a nice place, Luther.  It must be expensive, Loretta said with a gasp.

Nothing’s too good for my Baby-girl.

It’s a spa day!  Yay!

Enjoy, enjoy, Luther said warmly.

You’re so good to me.  Just sit back and let me give you a little something, Loretta said as Marvin Gaye started playing on her sound system.

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xoxoxo

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Friday, 8:37 AM, Indianapolis, Indiana

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The marshmallow crème-colored minivan tore down the suburban street with Tutti white-knuckling the steering wheel and Miles grasping the ‘Oh-shit’ handle for dear life.

You’re gonna kill us! Miles screamed for the umpteenth time on this trip into hell.

Be quiet. You’re such a baby, Tutti snapped in disgust.

We’re gonna die!

Shut up!  We gotta get Jonny, Tutti barked and shot Miles a dirty look. He might be hurt.  Or worse. The minivan rounded another corner, narrowly missing the banana-yellow fire hydrant that stood silent vigil to their passing. Finally, Tutti said in exasperation, This is his street.  Third one on the left, she muttered as if reminding herself.

A figure hopping down the middle of the street stumbled in front of the lurching minivan.  Tutti slammed on the brakes, throwing Miles into the windshield.

Ow!  Watch it!  My arm, Miles cried out, What’d you do that for? He tried to push himself back into the seat with his left hand while cradling his right arm carefully, checking for a repeat injury to it.

Look, Tutti said.

Look?  At wha—? Miles started then abruptly cut off mid-thought as he spied the scene before them.

In the middle of the street was Jonny.  Hopping on bare feet and covered in sweat from the exertion in the July heat.  He was clothed in a black leather jockstrap and leather straps with chrome-plated buckles and spikes.  His arms were behind his back, obviously lashed together, as were his ankles.  His mouth was stuffed with a bright, cherry red ball-gag firmly strapped in place.  His face wore a look of tired determination and desperation.  Every few hops, he glanced back the way he had come.  He gave a renewed forceful jump when he turned around, nearly knocking himself down in the process.

Oh, Shit.  They already got him, Miles burst out.

Jonny, no, Tutti faintly said as she tried to catch her breath.

Unaware of his friends, Jonny continued hopping, sweat flinging from his form with every jump.  His path was angled to cross the street just past the minivan.

Tutti hit the horn, and Miles shouted, Over here, J. D.!  Over here!

J. D. jerked his head towards the blaring horn with fear and sweat in his eyes.  He stopped still, swaying as his instincts for fight or flight wrestled with his body, and his eyes tried to focus on the source.

Tutti let out a gasp of emotion as their eyes met.  J. D.’s body froze as recognition slapped at his mind.

Miles popped open the passenger door and rolled out onto the street.  C’mon, man. Let’s get you outta here.

Jonny shook off Tutti’s gaze with a jolt of relief and took a renewed hop towards Miles.

Miles turned around and pulled the side door open with a whoosh.  J. D. hopped another foot towards the opening with a groan around the ball-gag and his escape.  Miles turned to his friend and reached out to help him, but he was too slow.  J. D. put in a final grunting effort and flopped into the back of the van with a tired thump.

Miles pushed J. D.’s legs inside, jumped in beside his friend, and slammed the door.  Hit it, Tutti!

Tutti mashed the gas pedal to the floor, and the minivan burned out, smoking the tires for a few feet before hooking up to the blacktop.  In the van’s rear, the two men fell back onto their backs with the sudden acceleration.

Miles rolled upright, singing, Whoo-hoo!  J. D. shifted on the floor, groaning in protest, as Tutti wove the vehicle around corners and away from the area.

After a couple of minutes of twisting, high-speed maneuvers, Tutti announced, I don’t think we’re being followed, and slowed the van down to blend into the surrounding traffic.

J. D. managed to sit up and thrust his head at Miles with an emphatic moan, the cherry ball-gag prominently protruding.

What? Miles said, then, Oh, let me get that.  He reached around and wrestled the clasp of the ball-gag free.  J. D. spat the ball out of his mouth with a dry cough and shake of his head.

Are you okay, Jonny? Tutti asked, rushing on before waiting for a response.  They came after me first.  Got me in the arm, but I was too good.  They slipped up, and I used their own weapon on them.

Someone blew up my steakhouse! Miles sandwiched in.

Turned their strengths back on them, Tutti kept on as she wove through the traffic like a butcher tying up a roast.  Who did this to you, Jonny?

Yeah, J. D., who did this? Miles chimed in, We’re gonna make them pay.

It was— J. D. started.

Yeah, Tutti cut him off along with another driver, they’re gonna regret the day they were born when we get done with them. Can’t come after my friends and get away with this.

They blew up my place and all my people! Miles cried out in pain.  Samson and the guys.  They were just doing their jobs.  Unloading the morning meat delivery.

It was—

Did they put a hood over your head?  Keep you from seeing?  What did they sound like? I know this guy can run these computer programs that recognize voices.  He could figure it out.  He owes me a favor, too.

Let’s go, Tutti, Miles called out as he untied J. D.’s arms.

It was—

Yeah! We’re gonna get them so bad!  I know this other guy can set us up with anything we need.  You won’t believe what he has.  For the right price.

Oh yeah?!? Miles said as he worked on unbinding J. D.’s ankles.  What’re we waiting for?!?

Alright!  It might take a day to get ahold of him but, we’ll get it done.  Right, Jonny? Tutti called out.

J. D. sat quietly upright, rubbing his ankles.

Jonny?  Right, Jonny? Tutti called out after a few seconds.

Miles looked at Tutti then shifted his attention to J. D.

I know who did this to me, J. D. finally said quietly.

What?!?!  You said they put a hood on you!  Did you get a look at them?  Who was it, Jonny?  Who? Tutti said in one continuous burst like a machine gun.

I didn’t say— J. D. started, Oh, never mind.

What?!?!  What Jonny?  Who did it? Tutti exploded.

C’mon, man.  They blew up my life, Miles pleaded.

It was Candy.

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xoxoxo

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Friday, 8:41 AM, Fort Lauderdale, Florida

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You liked that, didn’t you, Daddy? Loretta said smoothly.

You know I did, Baby-girl, Luther said just as smoothly back to her as the music continued to play on her sound system while outside the spray of rinse water shut down.  Five men in navy-blue jumpsuits hopped into the bay and started wiping down Loretta’s candy-apple red paint job with chamois softer than baby diapers.

Oooh!  That tickles! Loretta exclaimed as the men worked her over.

Only the best for my Baby-girl.

You spoil me so much.

Yeah, but we’re on vacation.  Besides, you’re worth it.

Oooohhhh. You’re so sweet, More music swelled inside as Loretta expressed her appreciation.

We haven’t even gotten to the triple waxing yet.

Baby...

Vince casually walked up behind Loretta, carrying a chamois in his hand.  One of the men wiping down noticed his boss and hurriedly moved around to the front.  Vince walked around Loretta, checking their work.  After a couple of steps, he crouched down, focused on a spot down low.  He shook his head and called out, Hey, Bennie, you missed a spot.

Oh, sorry, boss.  Where?

Vince held out his hand and said, I got it.  Just don’t miss any more.

Okay, I’ll double-check it before the wax.

You better, Vince said and reached out to wipe the offending spot.  In his right hand, he held a chamois, which he used to rub the imaginary place.  Vince grasped a black device in his left hand, the size of a portable hard drive with a tiny blood-red LED, currently dim.  As he reached out, he slipped in the soapy surface, going down on his knees.  Oh, he grunted as he simultaneously pushed himself off the concrete and planted the dark device deep under Loretta’s undercarriage.  The rubber-encased magnets on its backside grabbed hold silently, and the tiny blood-red LED started blinking slowly.  His job done, he finished getting up, then walked quickly away.  A moment later, the sprayers began laying down the first coat of liquid wax, distorting the view inside and out.

Oh! It’s so HOT! Loretta cried out as the streaming hot wax hit her body.

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xoxoxo

2

Friday, 8:45 AM, Indianapolis, Indiana

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The sound of the tires buzzing on the pavement hung in the air for precisely twenty-three seconds as Tutti and Miles sat with their mouths hanging open.  J. D. didn’t notice as he focused on loosening the sweat-soaked leather strap binding his shins together.  His body rocked back and forth with the minivan as he worked.

Finally, Tutti and Miles recovered their voices and shouted, Candy!?! simultaneously.

Yeah, Candy, J. D. said off-handedly and continued to wrestle with the strap, muttering, Man, this thing is so tight.

What do you mean?  Candy, did this to you? Tutti started slowly then picked up speed as she got rolling.

She’s with the guys trying to kill us? Miles burst out over the top of Tutti.

Tutti’s mouth caught up to the pace of the traffic she was weaving the van through, rising an octave to be heard over Miles’ outburst, She’s such a sweet girl.  I never would’ve thought she’d be like that.  You’re so lucky, Jonny.

Did she say who she was working for? Miles shot out, matching Tutti’s increases in volume.

Haven’t you been paying attention to her, Jonny?  She must’ve felt neglected to turn on you like that, Tutti continued like a MAC-10 pistol on full-auto.

We’ll get that no-good bastard that recruited her and turned her on you.  On us. Miles continued.

I know if my man doesn’t pay enough attention to me, then it’s just a matter of time ‘till I find someone new... Tutti continued.

We’ll put the word out on the street.  They’ll never know what hit them, Miles spat out.

J. D. wrestled the strap back and forth, ignoring the barrage of words flying around him.

I can’t believe you let her get away, Jonny.  She was always so sweet to all of us, Tutti admonished.

Yeah, sweet.  Probably so she could put us at ease.  Biding her time, Miles retorted.

I can’t believe that.  She was genuine.  I can tell these things.

That’s how the best ones do you.  Make you feel all safe and secure.  Then, BAM!  Drop the bomb on you.

Yeah. That’s right. Tutti agreed, shaking her head. I’ve done that a few times myself.

J. D. gave the strap a final yank as the van lurched around a soccer mom in a minivan the color of a nonstick frying pan.  The belt broke free, and his legs flew apart, freely flopping as he rolled around like a rotisserie chicken from the weaving forces assaulting him.

Did she say who she was working for? Miles shouted.

Jonny, did she say who her guy was? Tutti chimed in.

J. D. fought to get his tired legs under control and tried to grab hold of something stable in the twisting van.

Who was she working for? Miles shouted