Sunday, February 3, 2013

Nine--Quincy's Wish List

Piotr met him after school to make a list of Quincy’s demands.

“Okay, Mom is gonna pick me up any time,” Quincy said, “but you might as well make a list right now, because I’m going to want to have all of this stuff before I’m dead.”

Ever prepared, Piotr whipped a pad and pen out of his pocket.  If chess had taught him anything, it was to anticipate the next move of his enemy.  Piotr already had some solid guesses, in fact, as to what Quincy’s next eight moves would turn out to be.

“Kay, number one,” Quincy said.  “I’m gonna want a Lamborghini.  And it’s gonna be orange.  But shiny orange like a gumball.  And I wanna have a gun turret that pops out of the trunk.  And I want it to be able to drop an oil slick.  Oh, and smoke clouds.  And a 1,000-CD changer that responds to my voice.”

“You tell it what song to play—”



“And I’m gonna want to buy Ireland.”

"No way, man."

"No way?  . . . An island then?"

“Atlantic or Pacific?”

“Doesn’t matter.  Make it north of Ireland.  I'll name it 'Better Than Ireland.'  No, I'll name it the Death Star.”


“And this one’s embarrassing.”

Piotr looked up from his pad, readjusted his glasses.

“You’re my agent now,” Quincy said, “so everything we talk about is top secret.  That’s part of the deal.”

“Okay,” Piotr replied.

“Okay.”  Quincy looked at his feet.  “I want Natalia Pertman.”

“The movie star?”  He could not restrain his pride in adding, “She’s Russian, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Quincy wouldn't make eye contact.

“Got it.”  He dropped his head and resumed scribbling.  “Wait—you want to buy her?”

"How much do you think she'll cost?"

"A lot."

“Can we do that?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just get her.”

"You mean kidnap?"


By the time his day was done, Piotr had priced a gumball-orange Lamborghini with the nearest dealer and found an ex-marine who specialized in--in his words--“pimping any car so no commies will ever want to fuck with you.”  He had also found screenshots of several islands, most of them north of Ireland, available for purchase.  And he had discovered the ten most important digits of Quincy Caper’s life—the phone number of Natalia Pertman.

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