Pickman's Deal

Three strangers become acquainted, all awaiting a meeting with a mysterious figure named Pickman. Lured by his promise to "get them out" of a life of vice and into normality.

It was, to them, the longest July afternoon.  When the sun stayed where it was for too long and the groups of people never decreased, only changed.  When if there was a cloud in the sky in was a minuscule wisp of condensation that stood out in the pure sky.  And from where they sat that evening, the horizon could not be seen.  All around them, a structure, they were in a square of a commercial center.  They were all to sit there and wait.

The sun beat down harshly, but not too much so that prevented most from coming outside.  This was obvious because of the constant crowd.  The day was simply perfect for having an excuse to come to places like this.  To, even considering the inside of the center was just as fitting as the outside, create a reason to stay outdoors within the court.  Yet what dominated there were restaurants and their outdoor seating, which is where they will begin and stay.  It began with a handsome man named Joel Spencer.

   Joel was a man of raw physical attractiveness.  Standing tall and thin of athleticism.  Blue eyes that illuminated his features and aside from his build, births his sex appeal.  To compliment his eyes was his dark hair that was long and pulled back in a wave with a matte that made him a beacon in this sunlight.  He wore round clubmaster sunglasses that appealed to the frame of his face.  Unfamiliar with this particular center, he scanned his surroundings in a composed manner.  His eyes found a small café in the corner of the court.  He approached the outdoor seating area of white wooden chairs and matching white tables with black umbrellas over them.  Coming across a sign reading, “Please Seat Yourself,” Joel navigated to the agreed upon table in the corner of the fenced in area and sat down.  

   A waitress that must have noticed him from inside the tinted glass windows into the interior of the café came to him and handed him a menu.  She was an older woman bagged cheeks and eyes.  “Welcome to Kara’s Diner,” She spoke as she placed down the menu in front of him.  Her line was a monotone greeting, yet still managed to express somewhat of good nature.  “Would you like something to drink?”

   “Yeah, could I have a water with a lemon?” Joel replied.  His voice was soft and constant, a trait many remember him by.  The waitress raised her eyebrows as she wrote that down, adding a small smile with it.

   “Fancy aren’t you, handsome,” She said, now grinning.  Joel smiled with her.  “I’ll get that right out,”  She started back to the door that stayed open into the inside.  It was surprising to Joel given how crowded the outdoor seating was, the exact spot he and Pickman agreed upon was among the only ones left.  He gave the thought a quiet laugh and looked at his watch.  Five minutes until he arrived.  He made himself comfortable.

   In little time, the waitress came back and set his drink down in front of him before moving on to deliver the tray full of glasses to other patrons.  The lemon was stuck on the corner of the glass to resemble a garnish.  Joel took it and dropped it into the water, pushing it down with his straw.  Five minutes past.  

   A woman made herself visible to Joel.  Her attire made her unmissable.  Nearly all black clothing and sunglasses.  Joel looked at her peculiar nature as she appeared to go for the look of unrecognizability, although in the heat she stood out profusely.  She walked straight for the diner he was sitting at and stopped at the entrance when she saw him.  He cocked his head at her, and she resumed her stride, slower than previously, toward the table.  Directly across from him, she sat at the circular wooden table, putting her hands in her lap.  It seemed like she made an effort not to look him in the eye.  

   “Sorry I’m late,” She said quietly, nervously, as if to herself.  Her voice seemed older than she appeared to be.  She was a ripe woman in her late twenties.  It could not be seen, but without makeup on, her age would be deceiving.  Naturally, her cheeks caved in raw, yet artificially, it looked of natural beauty, as if it were the accentuation of her cheekbones.  Her large and dark sunglasses hid her similarly hollow eyes.  If not for her decisions, she’s be destined for the screen.  She tries not to think about it.  

   “I think you have the wrong table,” Joel after a second of thought.  He wondered if this was Pickman before realizing it couldn’t be.  Yet he was not sure.  To this, the woman looked up, shocked, her currant lips opened slightly as if she were insulted.  She leaned in, putting her right elbow and forearm of the table.

   “You’re Pickman, right?”  She was still in the near whisper, except more audible now that she was closer.  She stayed in her position until an answer came, she was impatient.  Joel squinted slightly, and she could tell from the cringe of his brow.

   “No, I’m waiting for him,”  To this response, her look only altered slightly, but gave a different expression.  An expression of disbelief.  She leaned back in her chair and shook her head vaguely.  She leaned her head down and pinched the top of her nose with her fingers.  

   “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed out.  I’m worried people will know I’m here,  or if he couldn’t help…” She seemed close to tears but she did not cry, she was stronger than that.  She’d been through too much to cry now.  “And then there’s someone else,” She took a breath and looked up, looking as if nothing were wrong.  “Did he tell you about meeting another person here?”

   “No.  I’m in the dark here, too, he told me he’d be here at about this time,” He looked at his watch.  

   “One twenty-five?” She looked at her watch too, a thin and real nice gold one, Joel admired it.  It must be worth a fortune, he thought.  

   “Yeah,”  

   The time was one thirty.  

   “From what I’ve heard, it’s not like him to be late,”

   “I’ve heard that too,”  

   A thin man came to the table, “What the hell?”  His voice was high but raspy.  Sheer surprise made both of them look up at the guy.  Short and horribly thin, this boy couldn’t be older than twenty-three.  Dreadfully pale, and squinting in the sunlight, he looked down at the two of them confused, but not concerned as the woman was, but scared.  

   “Is that…?”

   “No, it’s not Pickman.  Who are you?” Joel kept his voice at talking volume, not wanting to make a scene.

   “Wait.  You’re not Pickman,” The man said scanning both of them.

   “No, we’re waiting for him, are you supposed to meet him too?”

   “Yeah, uh, he told me to meet him here,” The man was still confused and nervous.

   “Well sit down, we’re all waiting for him to show up,” Joel himself was curious as to what this was all about, however, he had never been in a situation like this before.  He didn’t let his concern show.  The man sat down.  “So let’s get introduced, what’s your name, kid?”

   “Uh, Kyle.  Kyle Green, how about you,”  He looked at Joel across from him.  

   “Joel,” He said quickly.

   “Joel…” Kyle carried on the word to request a surname.  Joel shook his head.

   “No last names,” His lips cringed a bit.

   “Alright then.  Maggie Patterson,” Maggie introduced, aiming her hand at herself.  Everyone nodded after becoming familiar with one another.  Easing the suspicion, even if it was just slightly.  

   “Meeting with Pickman, huh?  What d’ya do?” Kyle initially directed it at Joel, but he grimly shook his head with no response.  He turned to Maggie, “What ‘bout you?”

She was rather reluctant to tell her story, but after a few seconds of consideration, she thought it would be okay.

“It’s embarrassing, really,”

“You’ll get no judgment from me,”

“I really started when I was a senior in high school,” She began, stayed looking down, reminiscing, but not smiling, “I had my whole life ahead of me then.  But I was stupid.  I didn’t want to end up like my parents.  My dad was an alcoholic mess and my mom was crazy, I think medically but I don’t know.  They both went to college and I thought then that it was the fate of everyone in my family.  I didn’t want to go down that road again.  My parents couldn’t pay for college and I didn’t want to put in the work to become them in the end.  

“I spent so much time away from them.  As much time as I could.  Usually with boys.  I was pretty then, not charismatic, though.  I didn’t want to tell myself that I was popular with the boys because I was willing to have sex.  Yeah, I did it, more frequent than not.  I loved it, it was a way to get out of the house and earn popularity that easily.  

“One attribute of my parents was that they were dirt poor.  Dad drank away welfare checks and mom did the occasional job of cleaning apartments near us.  We hardly had enough to eat dinner every day, some days we just didn’t.  I didn’t say anything because I did once and got a black eye.  So I thought, what’s a way to get money?  I had no skills, really.  I was just pretty.  So I thought, maybe I could just do what I loved and get money for it.  

“I found people who had connections to one pimp in the area.  I just saw it as something like a job application.  Except I wore the sluttiest dress I had to meet him.  He seemed like he liked what he saw, and offered me a drink.  Next thing I know I’m in a little room.  One dirty mattress that I’m laying on, and a door,” Her voice shook, “I was too weak to stand or to even move.  God, they must’ve drugged me or something.  Too weak to even scream.  I slept most of the time but every now and then some man would come in and have his way.  They were allowed to be as brutal as they wanted as long as they didn’t do any damage.  Some men tried the limit with how much they could get away with.  I was choked, beaten and raped.  I can’t even call it rape, can I?”

“I tried to leave once, I ran for the door when they were about to give me more drugs.  They held me back and broke my legs with a pipe,” A single tear streaked down her face, but she kept going, “I stayed there, hopeless for so long.  I’m almost thirty- seven now.  When I was probably twenty, I got pregnant.  They killed the guy they thought was the father, I heard it.  They waited until I was round at the stomach, and then they hit me hard there with a bat.  I lost conscience.  When I woke, I was back in the room, I knew it had been awhile.  And the gown I was wearing was bloody, so were my legs.  I touched my stomach and I realized the baby was gone.  I don’t know how long I cried.  I stayed in there, kept getting drugged and having to hear the sounds of other girls constantly getting raped.  It was a while like that until they considered I was good to start again.  So it went and on until come about a month ago I used all the strength I could to stand to where I found a sharp end to a pipe off of the wall.  I used it to cut my wrist deep.  God, there was so much blood. Even they thought I was going to die.  I just hoped I would.  They took me out and into a car, driving a good distance before dumping me in some abandoned lot.  I think it was because of my position from how they threw me out, my hand was under my faced-down body, that I lived.  

“I got up, the bleeding had stopped.  I didn’t hit an artery, but I’m damn sure that I was close.  I was on the street for about three months.  In and out of homes and beds.  Until one man saw me crying.  He was real tall and friendly.  He asked why I was crying and I gave him a brief summary.  He wrote me a number, I thought it was his, except it wasn’t the area code.  He said, ‘Call him’ and I did.  Nobody answered but I got a text soon after.  He addressed himself as Pickman and he said he’ll help” She stopped and looked up, “Do you know what finally made me decide to end it?”

“What?” Joel asked uncomfortably.

“I knew I was pregnant again, I just knew.  They couldn’t do that to me or my baby again.  Nobody could.  That’s why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” That’s all Joel could say, and Maggie nodded.  It was astounding, her ability to maintain the gruesome summary without bawling, as many would have done.  That she only shed a single year.  

“Don’t be, I just need to put it behind me.  I think saying it helped.”

“So what about you, kid?” Joel looked at Kyle, who tensed up.  

“You want me to tell you my story?”

“Only fair,”

“Alright, but I’m not proud of it,”

“I think that since we are all here, nobody is proud of what they’ve done,”

“I graduated college ‘bout two years ago with a chemistry degree,” He talked slowly, unprepared to speak.  His voice was pitifully weak and high, but coarse, “I got a job in some local university, it wasn’t bad.  For awhile I was doin’ fine, livin’ up near Jacksonville.  Once there was a small reunion one of my friends was puttin’ on.  Just’a few people.  I’d nothing’ else to do  and I thought it'd be fun.  It was at some real nice fancy house in St. Augustine.  I get there and everyone’s glad to see me.  I figured out that the owner of the house was a good friend of mine in our senior year named Jeremy Woods.  I says to him, ‘Jeremy, what in the sam hell d’you do to win yo’self a house like this?’  He looks at me, and smiles like a saint, then he says, ‘Kyle, your head’s not where it should be.  Sure, you could do well doin’ what you’re doin’ and I don’t even know what you’re doin’, but I know you’ll do better if you work with me.  We are a bit understaffed, you see.  You have a degree?’ I says, ‘Yeah, chemistry,’ and he looks happy, ‘Well perfect! All you gotta do is work your science and help me make some products,’ I ask him, ‘What products?’ and he sorta pulls me into another room, while everyone’s carryin’ on,’ he tells me it’s heroin,” Kyle shakes his head, “I said, ‘I don’t know, man, I can’t get into that kinda stuff,’ and he says, ‘Hey, a little risk, man, that’s all it’s going to take, then you could live like me,’ he says, ‘Live in a good house, get some good money and bang the hottest chicks, you in?’ I says, yeah.  

“For the next few weeks he’s givin’ me some things, I guess recipes to proofread, make sure they make sense.  Then one week he calls me up.  To make it short, he says he’s sending boxes of the s**t to my damn doorstep.  Tellin’ me I need to give about forty grams to this one guy downtown near where I live.  Tells me there’ll be extra.  He says, that’s your salary.  It came later in the day, and I deliver it to the guy downtown and collected the money.  Scariest thing in my life, but it went well.  I got home and there were still some grams left, I figured I’d find a way to sell it.  Maybe I’d buy a gun, I didn’t know.  I was curious, though.  I thought, what could be so special about it?  I was a chemist, I had at least three sterile syringes in my house,” When he said that, Maggie put her hand to her mouth, “I’d seen some people do it, so I just thought, what’s one time, right?

“The high was incredible, I passed out and the dreams were undescribable.  When I came to, I was on my floor and weak.  I’m going to make a long story short and tell you that the grams I had left over all ended up inside of me.  I didn’t even care to realize I was missing work, and it took a voicemail to let me know I’d been fired.  Then, I thought, where were the women?  Or where was the house, and the money?  I didn’t really want that anymore, I just wanted more.

“He stopped calling me, and wouldn’t return any of my calls.  It seemed each minute I was getting more stressed out.  I remembered Jeremy talking to me about some competitor near my area.  I eventually found them and asked them the rates.  It was a lot, more than I thought.  I went home and looked around.  The first time, I pawned a ring that I kept on my pinky.  It was my uncle’s, and after he died, it was my dad’s, and when he died, it was mine.  It was worth a lot.  As the days went, I sold more and more.  I couldn’t pay the rent all of the sudden.  I stayed with my aunt about five minutes away.  
“It didn’t take her long to find out about my addiction.  She payed for rehab and I tried to get better.  I just kept thinkin’ just one more then I’m done.  I just didn’t have enough.  My aunt had some fine pearls, a necklace she never wore and some earrings she never wore either.  They were a good buck, enough to keep getting just that one more.  She figured out, and kicked me out.  She told me I was damn lucky she didn’t call the police right then.  I tried to contact other family, but nobody would answer.  I tried to call friends, but they wouldn’t either.  That’s when I knew I needed good help.  I asked around for someone to go to.  I knew rehab didn’t work.  Some tall a*s homeless guy told me to go see this guy named Pickman, and gave me his number.  He said he was tricky, but efficient.  Sayin’ Pickman will solve it, but make you work for it, says that’s the only way he’ll help.  Called it ‘Pickman’s Deal,’ and says he helps many people in odd ways.  Same ending as Maggie’s, and here I am,”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said quietly

“You shouldn’t be, you’ve been through hell and back.  I wouldn’t know where to find that strength,” Kyle responded

Maggie smiled a bit and looked down, “We both made some bad decisions but I think being here was our best yet,”

Kyle nodded, “So, what was it, Joel?  Your turn,”  Joel shook his head slightly, “C’mon, don’t be dick, poor Maggie and I lectured our lives, tell us.  Only fair,”  

“Fine,” Joel realized he had nothing to be worried about.  He still spoke quietly.  He was the guiltiest among them, “I got an art degree in Valencia, worst decision I’d ever  made.  I didn’t even consider you can’t do jack with it.  It was my passion, though, painting and learning about art.  I’ve always dreamt of getting real rich with art pieces.  I sold one, seven hundred dollars, I thought I could keep this up, but,” He shook his head, “I did some work for murals here and there, painted some sets, but the money wasn’t coming in.  Enough to live modestly on, but not what I wanted.  I wanted more, and quickly.  I like to think I’m a smart guy, so I thought about making a quick buck to get myself back on my feet.  I bought a cheap mask and took a gun I didn’t have a license for.  Parents gave it to me, paranoid about me moving out.  Some .22 bull nosed revolver, nothing special.  I went to some convenient store far from where I lived, parked a fair distance away from cameras and stuck up the place in the middle of the night.  The clerk was half asleep and shocked more than anything.  I wasn’t going to shoot him, but he didn’t know that.  It was a Sunday, therefore they didn’t empty the register yet, so I got the most money.  I don’t know if you all have heard about the new high in the Powerball winnings, but a lot of people were buying tickets.  I got away with it and about one thousand seven hundred dollars.

“I tried to keep the painting career going after that, still making small bucks here and there.  So, I did it again.  Same deal, just different place.  I still got away with it.  More money then because the Powerball kept climbing.  I still wanted more.  I looked around the streets and to cut it short, I found a group of people looking for a new member for some job.  I signed myself up.  Austere entrance requirements, though.  Like, I had to bring a mask.  Whenever we were with one another, we had to wear a mask so we couldn’t ID anyone if one of us went haywire.  They didn’t even ask my name, told me I had a number and it was Five.  The leader was One.  I learned that they were plotting to rob a bank.  Does anyone here know the robbery awhile back down by Orlando?”

“Was that you?” Kyle asked, knowing the answer, Maggie raised her eyebrows, and Joel didn’t know what to make of that, so he nodded and kept going.

“Yeah we did it, earned twenty million.  The ringleader was surprisingly fair, we all got an even four million.  This was odd though.  He asked each person personally to celebrate at this one place, and looking back, I think he told each of us to go different places.  I went to some hotel and was told to go to one of the presidential suites.  I got there and saw two people in all in black with masks on.  I was confused, until they grabbed me and beat me up.  Not too bad, no scars, just a few kicks to the gut and the face.  When they were done they leaned in and told me to keep the money but don’t ever meet them again-”

“Wait,” Kyle said,

“What”

“Did you have a mask on?”

“Yeah,”

“How did you get into the hotel?” Kyle asked.  Maggie looked at Joel.  It was a fair question, he thought.

“This was late October, I wasn’t even the only one in the lobby with a mask,” Joel explained himself, and Kyle was a bit skeptical, but remembered the heist was probably then.  He wasn’t sure about anything timewise, “Anyway, I just kinda sat there for a while and thought ‘was it worth it?’  I ended up thinking hell yeah, four million was.  But One’s generosity was rare, I considered.  The worst part was, I considered I’d keep it up.  I had the money and resources to do it again, if only once.  When I began to live well and get back to my house, I got scared.  Like paranoid as hell, scared.  Thinking was I being bugged, were the police onto me?  You know, paranoid.  I read something a while back that the FBI could legally tap into your webcam whenever they wanted and they could avoid turning on the record light.  I didn’t use my computer or my phone for awhile.  I was a complete recluse.  When I had to get the occasional grocery, I payed in cash and only got what I absolutely needed.  I didn’t walk out of the house without a hat and sunglasses.  Even today, I almost brought a hat.  This is the most public I’ve been in awhile.  Understand that for months I didn’t even drive my car in case they’d get my licence plate.  I had to drive here, of course, but that alone freaked me out.

“In conclusion, one day when I was walking to the grocery, I walked past some group of homeless men, one of them was there every day.  He stood up and called me by name, ‘Joel,’ when he stood upright he was giant.  I was shocked at this and scared.  He said, ‘Why do you walk through here every day?  I’ve seen the way you look around like you’re scared, what are you scared of?’  I was freaking out at this point, ‘What would I be scared of?’ I asked.  He said so nonchalantly, ‘The police,’  I forgot to mention this was late, almost when the Publix would close.  The other homeless guys were asleep or too stoned to care.  I didn’t say a word but almost had a heart attack.  He reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded index card.  ‘His name is Pickman, he will get you out of this ordeal,’  and here I am,”

Joel considered that Maggie and Kyle were almost victims of their surroundings.  Kyle was too innocent and too curious.  Maggie was just confused and a product of a bad childhood.  Not Joel, no, he was the worst out of all them.  They didn’t think about it, but he knew.  

“So all we have to do is wait,” Maggie said.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Kyle seemed like he had to squeeze the words out, disappointed, “The man that talked to me said that I’d have to look for him.  I just thought he meant I’d have a hard time finding the rendezvous spot,”

“I was told that too,” Joel said.

“Yeah,” Maggie added.

“I think I know where he is,” Kyle said, his spirits lifted, “I think he’s at the university I used to work at.  Maybe that’s the work he wanted me to do,”

“I think you’re onto something,” Maggie said, “But I think I know where he’d be.  My old house.  I need to go to my parents,”  She sounded like she was about to cry, “They don’t even know I’m alive,” She said, and used a napkin to wipe her eye, “That’s my work, he’ll be there,” She stood up, “Thank you all for listening, I wish you all good luck and I hope you all find Pickman,” She left in a hurry.

“What ‘bout you?” Kyle asked Joel.

“I think I know where he is.  My old studio,” He gazed at the table in complete thought, “That’s my work, I just need to work,”  Joel extended his hand and Kyle shook it, “Get better, kid,”  And Joel was gone.  Kyle thought to himself for a minute and got up too, and to his university.

They would all find Pickman.  

Author's Note

Don't read it for the plot.