Closing Costs (Lexington Avenue Express Book 28)

Closing Costs (a Lexington Avenue Express short story - 1,100 words)

"So, what's it taste like now?" he asked. Eddie's posture betrayed his contempt as he slouched, leaning casually on the front fender of his Mercedes. The crane-crew was removing the sign above the front doors of the failed business and the two men stood at a distance watching the steel tentacle extend skyward.

Mike Faraday didn't answer Eddie's question. Instead, he stood remembering that his brother-in-law had spoken nearly the same words eighteen months earlier; even the smirk and all-too-confident attitude were the same. 'So, what's it taste like?' he had asked.

Back then, Mike had responded enthusiastically to Eddie's question, telling him all about the fast-food business that he'd just purchased, investing every nickel he could borrow in the process.

"They're the best, the most savory sub-sandwiches on the planet. The ingredients are sliced ultra-thin--"

"No shit," Eddie had interrupted back then. Today his remark was less coarse but far more hurtful. "Guess those ingredients weren't quite as 'savory' as you thought," he said with a chuckle.

In an odd way, Mike was grateful for the rush of anger he felt. For weeks now, the numbing effects of his personal and financial ruin had consumed him; a relentless, buzzing cicada-song. He could enjoy no peace, not even in fitful sleep as his wounds festered.

"How many months remain on your lease, Mikey-boy?" Eddie asked, breaking the sweet shell of anger that had briefly protected Mike from his torment.

"Thirty, uh ... thirty-one," Mike muttered. "I'm trying to sub-lease the place; a yogurt shop may--"

"Yogurt shop!" Eddie interrupted again as was his custom. Mike Faraday stood watching as the red-fiberglass-letter 'S' dangled beneath the crane-hook; the letters for 'MIKE'S' were already lying in a heap in the parking lot, 'UB SHOP' remained on the building facade awaiting the same fate.

Eddie stood and stretched extravagantly, as though rising from a pleasant slumber. "A yogurt shop," he repeated, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Doesn't sound nearly 'savory' enough to me," he quipped, his eyes narrowing as if he were examining an unwelcome insect instead of his sister's soon-to-be ex-husband.

"Listen, Eddie, I--"

"No, you listen," Eddie interrupted, his tone turning menacing. "I loaned you fifty grand for thirty-six months at eighteen percent. The payments were supposed to be monthly and you're four payments behind already, Mikey-boy. Since it appears you are 'retiring,' I'm here to pick up my four payments plus the full balance of what's due me. I want my money, Mikey, and I want it now."

"How €¦ much do I owe?" Mike stammered.

"You write me a check for say, sixty-grand and we'll call it even €¦ and Mikey, the check's gotta' be good, good enough to cash today," Eddie glared.

"Eddie, you know I don't--"

"I WANT MY MONEY NOW, Mikey-boy," Eddie interrupted again.

"Okay, okay. I can ... give you part now, the rest--"

"You can give me everything I'm due and we both know it," Eddie said, his eyebrows raised for emphasis. "I've already talked with Krissy. She says there should be enough cash left in your business account to cover my sixty. By the way, Mikey, you should've told me you and my little sister were breaking up; sure hate to see your little family fall apart," he mocked.