Read Online Dr. Slick: A Killer Comedy by Dani Amore - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dani Amore
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“Wait here, I got an idea.”
Tom slumps over on the table.
Fifty-Two
Tom is standing with his shirt off and a microphone with wire and recorder is duct taped to his chest. The cop is giving him instructions as Tom puts his shirt on.
“You just have to get him to admit anything at all and we got him. Even if he admits to planting the bugs in your office, or even just taking the damn dog.”
“Oh, boy,” Tom says. He is nearly shaking with anxiety.
“Are you up to this?”
“I don’t know,” Tom admits.
“You’re looking at jail if you can’t pin this on Sutton. You realize that, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can do it. It’s time you started believing in yourself, anyway, for God’s sake. Who the hell needs a success coach anyway? Just do what you gotta do.”
“You’re probably right,” Tom says.
“That’s the problem today. Too many people look to someone else to solve their problems when all they really need to do is dig down deep and do it themselves.”
“Right,” Tom says. “Dig down deep.”
“Be strong. Be confident. And nail this fucker,” the cop says.
“Nail him,” Tom says, without much confidence.
Fifty-Three
Tom is sitting at a martini bar with a view of the Chicago River. It’s the dark, moody kind of place where Sinatra can regularly be heard through the sound system.
Tom barely sips from the martini in front of him.
Rocky appears next to him.
He sits down and the bartender immediately sets up a martini in front of him.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Rocky says to Tom.
“We have to talk about what’s happened. I’m in big trouble.”
“You fucked it up, my man. You fucked it ALL up.”
“I did not. It was your–“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who’s the fuck-up here? Who’s the loser who came crying to me because he couldn’t figure out how to win on his own?”
“But–“
“You’re a loser, Tom. Always have been, always will be. Big...fucking...loser.”
“Look, you were the one who–“
“Hey, hey, hey! Not here. You wanna really talk, let’s go.”
He guzzles his martini, gets off the bar stool, throws a bill on the bar and leaves.
Tom tosses back the rest of his martini for courage, and then grudgingly follows.
They both get into Rocky’s car.
“So what did you want to say, Tom?”
“It’s your fault. You did all this shit. Bugged the offices, put the porn on Dylan’s computer. And I don’t even want to know what you did to Morgan. You even kidnapped a dog for Christ’s sake! What kind of freak of nature are you?”
“Oh, like you could’ve pulled it off.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t got the balls.”
“Yeah, right,” Tom says. “Real ballsy what you did.”
“Hey, one of us had to step up to the plate. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.”
“So you admit it. You did all that stuff for me.”
“Of course I did. You couldn’t. That’s why you were never going to be a success. You weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t have the nuts to get the job done.”
“No, I wasn’t getting it done because I have a little something called ethics. Unlike you.”
Rocky laughs.
“That’s your fucking problem, Tom. You’ve got such a twisted sense of the way the world works. I’m surprised you even had the balls to come and see me. That’s what guys like you do. You act high and mighty, but when it comes to getting the job done, you call guys like me. Guys with cojones.”
“You’re nothing special. You just do things most people wouldn’t do, because they have morals. It’s easy to be a cheat. It takes guts to be honest.”
Tom stops.
“Besides, I know the truth. You’re a loser. I saw where you live. Your whole act is nothing but a sham. A fraud.”
“You followed me?” Rocky asks. For the first time, his voice seems to lack conviction.
“You goddamned right I did! Your fancy office with the golf clubs!
Tom slumps over on the table.
Fifty-Two
Tom is standing with his shirt off and a microphone with wire and recorder is duct taped to his chest. The cop is giving him instructions as Tom puts his shirt on.
“You just have to get him to admit anything at all and we got him. Even if he admits to planting the bugs in your office, or even just taking the damn dog.”
“Oh, boy,” Tom says. He is nearly shaking with anxiety.
“Are you up to this?”
“I don’t know,” Tom admits.
“You’re looking at jail if you can’t pin this on Sutton. You realize that, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You can do it. It’s time you started believing in yourself, anyway, for God’s sake. Who the hell needs a success coach anyway? Just do what you gotta do.”
“You’re probably right,” Tom says.
“That’s the problem today. Too many people look to someone else to solve their problems when all they really need to do is dig down deep and do it themselves.”
“Right,” Tom says. “Dig down deep.”
“Be strong. Be confident. And nail this fucker,” the cop says.
“Nail him,” Tom says, without much confidence.
Fifty-Three
Tom is sitting at a martini bar with a view of the Chicago River. It’s the dark, moody kind of place where Sinatra can regularly be heard through the sound system.
Tom barely sips from the martini in front of him.
Rocky appears next to him.
He sits down and the bartender immediately sets up a martini in front of him.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Rocky says to Tom.
“We have to talk about what’s happened. I’m in big trouble.”
“You fucked it up, my man. You fucked it ALL up.”
“I did not. It was your–“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who’s the fuck-up here? Who’s the loser who came crying to me because he couldn’t figure out how to win on his own?”
“But–“
“You’re a loser, Tom. Always have been, always will be. Big...fucking...loser.”
“Look, you were the one who–“
“Hey, hey, hey! Not here. You wanna really talk, let’s go.”
He guzzles his martini, gets off the bar stool, throws a bill on the bar and leaves.
Tom tosses back the rest of his martini for courage, and then grudgingly follows.
They both get into Rocky’s car.
“So what did you want to say, Tom?”
“It’s your fault. You did all this shit. Bugged the offices, put the porn on Dylan’s computer. And I don’t even want to know what you did to Morgan. You even kidnapped a dog for Christ’s sake! What kind of freak of nature are you?”
“Oh, like you could’ve pulled it off.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You haven’t got the balls.”
“Yeah, right,” Tom says. “Real ballsy what you did.”
“Hey, one of us had to step up to the plate. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.”
“So you admit it. You did all that stuff for me.”
“Of course I did. You couldn’t. That’s why you were never going to be a success. You weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t have the nuts to get the job done.”
“No, I wasn’t getting it done because I have a little something called ethics. Unlike you.”
Rocky laughs.
“That’s your fucking problem, Tom. You’ve got such a twisted sense of the way the world works. I’m surprised you even had the balls to come and see me. That’s what guys like you do. You act high and mighty, but when it comes to getting the job done, you call guys like me. Guys with cojones.”
“You’re nothing special. You just do things most people wouldn’t do, because they have morals. It’s easy to be a cheat. It takes guts to be honest.”
Tom stops.
“Besides, I know the truth. You’re a loser. I saw where you live. Your whole act is nothing but a sham. A fraud.”
“You followed me?” Rocky asks. For the first time, his voice seems to lack conviction.
“You goddamned right I did! Your fancy office with the golf clubs!
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