New Vince fiction, a prequel this time: Commitment
Showing posts with label Vince. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vince. Show all posts
New Flash Fiction
In sunday scribblings, In VinceI've posted a new Vince story for Sunday Scribblings: Normal Annoyances
New Flash Fiction
In Three Word Wednesday, In VinceNew story about Vince and the gang: New Year's Resolution
New Vince Fiction: Thieves and Politicians
In sunday scribblings, In VinceI have a new Vince story posted at Sunday Scribblings: Thieves and Politicians
New Halloween Flash Fiction
In VinceI'm posting a new Vince Mott story today, in honor of Halloween: Trick or Treat
New Flash Fiction
In Three Word Wednesday, In VinceI've posted a new Flash Fiction for Three Word Wednesday. Vince fans will enjoy this one: All In a Night's Work
Flash Fiction: The New Girl
In Three Word Wednesday, In VinceAUTHOR'S NOTE: Another Vince story today. Be sure to drop by Three Word Wednesday and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more fun.
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Fausto darted his eyes toward the girl arranging her gear on the floor. In hushed tones he asked, "Why'd Vince bring her on?"
Ozone shrugged. "Seems capable enough. I guess we'll find out for sure tonight."
"That's not what I meant."
"It was also a favor to his sister. She's a friend of Sara's."
Fausto rolled his eyes and indicated with a jerk of his chin that Ozone should follow him. Once they were far enough away in the cavernous old warehouse, he said, "Come on, you know what I'm talking about. Gitana."
"What about her?"
"She's going to be pissed Vince brought another girl here, no matter how demure she's acting."
"Just because she's a girl doesn't mean Vince plans to sleep with her."
Fausto grinned. "Right. Like he hasn't had something going on with every girl he's ever brought into this gang? Tell me another. This one will be lucky if Gitana doesn't cut her throat in her sleep."
Ozone gave a sly smile. "I have a feeling she can look out for herself."
"Around someone as volatile as Gitana? I'm telling you, she's worse than she ever was; hot one minute, cold the next, getting offended over every little thing..."
"It's not really our problem, is it?" Ozone shoved his hands in his pockets. "I mean, Vince makes the rules, and if he wants this new girl on our team, then that's how it'll be."
Fausto sighed and leaned against the wall. "Yeah. I just wish I understood how he thinks. He's really smart when it comes to negotiating deals for us, like the other night where we got thirty percent on a lousy marijuana handoff. But when it comes to women..."
"Some guys are just like that, man."
"And what does it mean for us? We're the ones that have to live with the chaos."
"It's not like you don't have options," Ozone reminded him.
"What, you mean join someone else?" Fausto fixed him with a look. "I worked for three other groups before I met up with Vince. He's the only guy I know who doesn't cut a guy's share just because he feels like being a jerk."
"So quit complaining about the girl, then." Ozone gave a little twitch of his shoulders and headed back toward the main sleeping area. "Besides, I don't get the feeling she'll be here long."
Fausto tagged after him. "But in the meantime..."
Ozone grinned. "Yeah. Cat fight. Can't say the boss doesn't provide us with entertainment."
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For more stories about Vince and his gang, go here.
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Fausto darted his eyes toward the girl arranging her gear on the floor. In hushed tones he asked, "Why'd Vince bring her on?"
Ozone shrugged. "Seems capable enough. I guess we'll find out for sure tonight."
"That's not what I meant."
"It was also a favor to his sister. She's a friend of Sara's."
Fausto rolled his eyes and indicated with a jerk of his chin that Ozone should follow him. Once they were far enough away in the cavernous old warehouse, he said, "Come on, you know what I'm talking about. Gitana."
"What about her?"
"She's going to be pissed Vince brought another girl here, no matter how demure she's acting."
"Just because she's a girl doesn't mean Vince plans to sleep with her."
Fausto grinned. "Right. Like he hasn't had something going on with every girl he's ever brought into this gang? Tell me another. This one will be lucky if Gitana doesn't cut her throat in her sleep."
Ozone gave a sly smile. "I have a feeling she can look out for herself."
"Around someone as volatile as Gitana? I'm telling you, she's worse than she ever was; hot one minute, cold the next, getting offended over every little thing..."
"It's not really our problem, is it?" Ozone shoved his hands in his pockets. "I mean, Vince makes the rules, and if he wants this new girl on our team, then that's how it'll be."
Fausto sighed and leaned against the wall. "Yeah. I just wish I understood how he thinks. He's really smart when it comes to negotiating deals for us, like the other night where we got thirty percent on a lousy marijuana handoff. But when it comes to women..."
"Some guys are just like that, man."
"And what does it mean for us? We're the ones that have to live with the chaos."
"It's not like you don't have options," Ozone reminded him.
"What, you mean join someone else?" Fausto fixed him with a look. "I worked for three other groups before I met up with Vince. He's the only guy I know who doesn't cut a guy's share just because he feels like being a jerk."
"So quit complaining about the girl, then." Ozone gave a little twitch of his shoulders and headed back toward the main sleeping area. "Besides, I don't get the feeling she'll be here long."
Fausto tagged after him. "But in the meantime..."
Ozone grinned. "Yeah. Cat fight. Can't say the boss doesn't provide us with entertainment."
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For more stories about Vince and his gang, go here.
Flash Fiction: Unknown
In VinceAUTHOR'S NOTE: Another Vince story. I didn't mean for it to come out this dark, but there you go. Be sure to drop by Three Word Wednesday and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more fun.
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"What the hell did you think you were doing?"
Speedball frowned. "I thought she was with the Catorces."
Vince pressed down hard, trying to stanch the blood. "The Catorces are our allies. If you'd lay off the drugs once in awhile, you might be able to remember a thing or two."
Speedball stepped back with an injured air.
Ozone had been digging through their box of medical supplies, but he stopped and gave Vince a look. "Be fair, man. Things change practically every week."
Vince was in no mood to be fair. Speedball's impulsiveness might've gotten them in serious trouble this time. Their alliances had never been very robust, and injuring someone for no reason could be their death sentence. "Has someone gone to get Sara? This girl needs proper medical care."
"Gitana left a little while ago." Ozone selected a clean rag and brought it over.
While Ozone took over, pressing his fresh rag into the wound, Vince looked at the girl more closely. Her smooth dark skin suggested tribal blood, and she seemed young - barely out of her teens. Her clothes and weapons suggested fight training of some sort and the money to get kitted out properly. Perhaps Speedball hadn't been wrong to think she was a threat.
Vince patted her pockets, hoping to find identification or some sign of gang affiliation, but found only a crumpled card from a local church commemorating the Feast of Simon and Jude, and an odd hand-stitched item that he couldn't guess the use of but suspected was a charm of some sort. Meant to ward off evil, it had been useless against Speedball, who was merely reckless.
Vince looked at the card again. Wasn't Jude the one who helped with lost causes? Maybe he could help where Vince couldn't. He tucked the card back in her pocket, feeling Speedball's gaze on him the entire time. "What?" He got to his feet.
Speedball looked away. "Nothing. Just...I'm sorry, you know. I was only trying to protect us."
"I know." The girl still lay motionless and Ozone's rag was starting to soak through. For all any of them knew, the girl might have been a threat, after all. Just because she was young and attractive didn't mean she wasn't deadly. Vince suppressed a grim smile. He was always quick with the assumptions when he saw a pretty face. "You meant well, but next time..."
"Yeah?"
"Capture intruders. Don't go off on them like this."
The girl's breathing had become strange and hoarse, as if she were choking. Vince knew the sound and turned away. "I might've liked to have talked to her, find out what she wanted. And now we'll never know."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
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"What the hell did you think you were doing?"
Speedball frowned. "I thought she was with the Catorces."
Vince pressed down hard, trying to stanch the blood. "The Catorces are our allies. If you'd lay off the drugs once in awhile, you might be able to remember a thing or two."
Speedball stepped back with an injured air.
Ozone had been digging through their box of medical supplies, but he stopped and gave Vince a look. "Be fair, man. Things change practically every week."
Vince was in no mood to be fair. Speedball's impulsiveness might've gotten them in serious trouble this time. Their alliances had never been very robust, and injuring someone for no reason could be their death sentence. "Has someone gone to get Sara? This girl needs proper medical care."
"Gitana left a little while ago." Ozone selected a clean rag and brought it over.
While Ozone took over, pressing his fresh rag into the wound, Vince looked at the girl more closely. Her smooth dark skin suggested tribal blood, and she seemed young - barely out of her teens. Her clothes and weapons suggested fight training of some sort and the money to get kitted out properly. Perhaps Speedball hadn't been wrong to think she was a threat.
Vince patted her pockets, hoping to find identification or some sign of gang affiliation, but found only a crumpled card from a local church commemorating the Feast of Simon and Jude, and an odd hand-stitched item that he couldn't guess the use of but suspected was a charm of some sort. Meant to ward off evil, it had been useless against Speedball, who was merely reckless.
Vince looked at the card again. Wasn't Jude the one who helped with lost causes? Maybe he could help where Vince couldn't. He tucked the card back in her pocket, feeling Speedball's gaze on him the entire time. "What?" He got to his feet.
Speedball looked away. "Nothing. Just...I'm sorry, you know. I was only trying to protect us."
"I know." The girl still lay motionless and Ozone's rag was starting to soak through. For all any of them knew, the girl might have been a threat, after all. Just because she was young and attractive didn't mean she wasn't deadly. Vince suppressed a grim smile. He was always quick with the assumptions when he saw a pretty face. "You meant well, but next time..."
"Yeah?"
"Capture intruders. Don't go off on them like this."
The girl's breathing had become strange and hoarse, as if she were choking. Vince knew the sound and turned away. "I might've liked to have talked to her, find out what she wanted. And now we'll never know."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
Flash Fiction: Never on a Sunday
In Three Word Wednesday, In Vince, In Weekend Writers RetreatAUTHOR'S NOTE: Another Vince story today - microfiction this time. Be sure to drop by Three Word Wednesday and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more fun.
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"Sorry, man, no can do."
Migo's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you talking about? You're the biggest money whore in town. This type of gig is right up your alley."
"I'm short-handed." Vince leaned back in his battered leather desk chair. "Fausto is injured, Ozone's out of town for a few days, and Speedball won't work Sundays."
"Don't tell me he's gone religious."
"No, nothing like that." Vince grimaced. "Just a phase he's going through, like last month when he thought Peru could read his mind and was transmitting his thoughts to ancient Apache deities."
Migo shook his head. "Where do you find them?"
"I always stumble upon them somehow. Speedball does good work, though."
"Except he's crazy as a rabid squirrel on meth."
Vince pulled open a drawer and drew out a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. "We can't all be sane, and who'd want to be, anyway?" He poured a measure into a glass and pushed it across the desk. "Drink up, friend. And pick another date for your little gun-running operation. Any date, as long as it's not a Sunday."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
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"Sorry, man, no can do."
Migo's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you talking about? You're the biggest money whore in town. This type of gig is right up your alley."
"I'm short-handed." Vince leaned back in his battered leather desk chair. "Fausto is injured, Ozone's out of town for a few days, and Speedball won't work Sundays."
"Don't tell me he's gone religious."
"No, nothing like that." Vince grimaced. "Just a phase he's going through, like last month when he thought Peru could read his mind and was transmitting his thoughts to ancient Apache deities."
Migo shook his head. "Where do you find them?"
"I always stumble upon them somehow. Speedball does good work, though."
"Except he's crazy as a rabid squirrel on meth."
Vince pulled open a drawer and drew out a bottle of good Kentucky bourbon. "We can't all be sane, and who'd want to be, anyway?" He poured a measure into a glass and pushed it across the desk. "Drink up, friend. And pick another date for your little gun-running operation. Any date, as long as it's not a Sunday."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
Flash Fiction: Sugar Pills
In Sara, In Three Word Wednesday, In Vince, In Weekend Writers RetreatAUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a long time since we had a story about Vince, so enjoy! Be sure to drop by Three Word Wednesday and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more fun.
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Sara dug through the canvas bag in exasperation. Was this his idea of a joke? “Homeopathic remedies?” She shoved the bag across the table. “I’m a real nurse, Vince, not some quack playing 'let’s pretend.'”
“Hey, it’s not like I work for a manufacturer, you know. When I find stuff, I bring it to you. If you can use it, great. If not, it isn’t like I paid any money for it.”
“And where’d you steal this particular batch of sugar pills?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.” Sara sat down with a sigh. She had felt so optimistic when her brother told her that he had acquired a stash of medicine. Shortages were rife at the hospital, and a lot of her patients lacked the money or the clout to leverage a spot at the top of the waiting list. It was embarrassing that her brother was a gang leader, but he could sometimes get things a person of her lowly station couldn't afford, or even find. “I had so hoped for tetracycline. Or at least some vitamins.”
“I’m sorry.” He touched her hair. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
Vince examined her with wary eyes. “There’s someone in particular you’re thinking of.”
“A kid. The parents aren’t rich or important, so she’ll probably die.”
“And these cycling pills would help, if you had them?”
“Tetracycline. Yeah, it’s what the doctor prescribed, but you practically have to be El Duque to get any. There’s none anywhere in the city.”
“We’ll see about that.” Vince straightened his leather vest. “I’m working a deal in about an hour, but after that, I’ll make some inquiries. There’s a few guys who owe me favors.”
“And more than a few who you owe money,” she reminded him.
He smiled, and it was the same boyish grin Sara remembered from their childhood. Vince had done a lot bad things since their parents died, but his generosity and spark of mischief were unchanged.
“What’s money, anyway?” Vince said. “It’s just some crazy thing that we all agree on, but isn’t really important in its own right.” He started toward the door, then stopped and dug in his pocket. “I almost forgot.” He went back to her and slipped something into her hand. “Don’t go pawning it so you can buy stuff for your patients, okay?”
Sara examined the piece of polished amber on a chain.
“Better than that bag of useless stuff, right?”
To Sara, jewelry was about as useful as homeopathy. She would wear it for a little while, until Vince forgot about it, and by then maybe there would be antibiotics for sale again on the black market. She could pawn it then. “Sure,” she told him, returning his winsome smile. “It's much nicer than sugar pills.”
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
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Sara dug through the canvas bag in exasperation. Was this his idea of a joke? “Homeopathic remedies?” She shoved the bag across the table. “I’m a real nurse, Vince, not some quack playing 'let’s pretend.'”
“Hey, it’s not like I work for a manufacturer, you know. When I find stuff, I bring it to you. If you can use it, great. If not, it isn’t like I paid any money for it.”
“And where’d you steal this particular batch of sugar pills?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.” Sara sat down with a sigh. She had felt so optimistic when her brother told her that he had acquired a stash of medicine. Shortages were rife at the hospital, and a lot of her patients lacked the money or the clout to leverage a spot at the top of the waiting list. It was embarrassing that her brother was a gang leader, but he could sometimes get things a person of her lowly station couldn't afford, or even find. “I had so hoped for tetracycline. Or at least some vitamins.”
“I’m sorry.” He touched her hair. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”
Vince examined her with wary eyes. “There’s someone in particular you’re thinking of.”
“A kid. The parents aren’t rich or important, so she’ll probably die.”
“And these cycling pills would help, if you had them?”
“Tetracycline. Yeah, it’s what the doctor prescribed, but you practically have to be El Duque to get any. There’s none anywhere in the city.”
“We’ll see about that.” Vince straightened his leather vest. “I’m working a deal in about an hour, but after that, I’ll make some inquiries. There’s a few guys who owe me favors.”
“And more than a few who you owe money,” she reminded him.
He smiled, and it was the same boyish grin Sara remembered from their childhood. Vince had done a lot bad things since their parents died, but his generosity and spark of mischief were unchanged.
“What’s money, anyway?” Vince said. “It’s just some crazy thing that we all agree on, but isn’t really important in its own right.” He started toward the door, then stopped and dug in his pocket. “I almost forgot.” He went back to her and slipped something into her hand. “Don’t go pawning it so you can buy stuff for your patients, okay?”
Sara examined the piece of polished amber on a chain.
“Better than that bag of useless stuff, right?”
To Sara, jewelry was about as useful as homeopathy. She would wear it for a little while, until Vince forgot about it, and by then maybe there would be antibiotics for sale again on the black market. She could pawn it then. “Sure,” she told him, returning his winsome smile. “It's much nicer than sugar pills.”
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
Flash Fiction: Halfway Point
In sunday scribblings, In VinceAUTHOR'S NOTE: This flash fiction piece was written for Sunday Scribblings. Be sure to drop by, read, and leave comments!
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Vince rested his hand on the gun at his hip. "I don't like it."
"Looks okay to me, boss." Ozone shrugged.
"It would." Speedball toyed with his knife. "You've always got your head in the clouds."
"At least it's not up my--"
"Guys." Vince motioned for silence. "Save it for after we close the deal. Speedball, check the west side. Ozone, you take the east. I'll go up ahead and see if anything's happening yet."
While his men went to inspect the decrepit buildings and alleyways, Vince moved cautiously up the street, trying to appear casual while keeping a sharp eye for anything suggesting an ambush. This was no-man's land, halfway between the area he controlled and that of his contact, but that didn't explain his unease. Bigger things were happening. The vibe felt off.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness and Vince started to draw his gun, but then realized it was only Malo, his contact. He waited, every nerve on edge.
"Your guys ready?"
Vince gave a slight shake of his head. "Bad time, bad place."
Malo's lips twisted in an ugly sneer. "You can't back out now. We have a deal."
"I'm not backing out. We just can't do it here. Something--"
Running feet. A shout. Then the hard impact of asphalt as Speedball shoved him to the ground. The explosion obliterated every thought and sent tremors through the earth. When he recovered enough to look up, Vince saw Malo on the ground in front of him, equally alarmed.
"It's a setup," Speedball said. He hauled Vince to his feet.
Malo threw up his hands. "It wasn't me, I swear!"
There was no time to speculate. Vince and Speedball ran back the way they had come, with the sound of gunfire erupting in the distance. They reached Coal Street, one of the borders of their turf, and ducked into a building.
"What was that about?" Vince said, after catching his breath.
"Not sure."
"Probably the Diablos. Seems like their kind of work."
"They've got infiltrators everywhere," Speedball agreed.
"Ozone get out?"
"Dunno."
Vince pondered. He was always willing to risk his neck for loyal guys, but if he didn't know where Ozone was or if he was even in danger...
"We shouldn't do this any more."
"Do what? Make deals?"
"No, meet people out there. We should make them come to us."
It was a nice thought, but no one could earn a living that way. Vince suppressed a sigh. "Sorry, man, but that only works in fairy tales. It's risky, but in real life you have to try to meet folks halfway."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
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Vince rested his hand on the gun at his hip. "I don't like it."
"Looks okay to me, boss." Ozone shrugged.
"It would." Speedball toyed with his knife. "You've always got your head in the clouds."
"At least it's not up my--"
"Guys." Vince motioned for silence. "Save it for after we close the deal. Speedball, check the west side. Ozone, you take the east. I'll go up ahead and see if anything's happening yet."
While his men went to inspect the decrepit buildings and alleyways, Vince moved cautiously up the street, trying to appear casual while keeping a sharp eye for anything suggesting an ambush. This was no-man's land, halfway between the area he controlled and that of his contact, but that didn't explain his unease. Bigger things were happening. The vibe felt off.
A shadow detached itself from the darkness and Vince started to draw his gun, but then realized it was only Malo, his contact. He waited, every nerve on edge.
"Your guys ready?"
Vince gave a slight shake of his head. "Bad time, bad place."
Malo's lips twisted in an ugly sneer. "You can't back out now. We have a deal."
"I'm not backing out. We just can't do it here. Something--"
Running feet. A shout. Then the hard impact of asphalt as Speedball shoved him to the ground. The explosion obliterated every thought and sent tremors through the earth. When he recovered enough to look up, Vince saw Malo on the ground in front of him, equally alarmed.
"It's a setup," Speedball said. He hauled Vince to his feet.
Malo threw up his hands. "It wasn't me, I swear!"
There was no time to speculate. Vince and Speedball ran back the way they had come, with the sound of gunfire erupting in the distance. They reached Coal Street, one of the borders of their turf, and ducked into a building.
"What was that about?" Vince said, after catching his breath.
"Not sure."
"Probably the Diablos. Seems like their kind of work."
"They've got infiltrators everywhere," Speedball agreed.
"Ozone get out?"
"Dunno."
Vince pondered. He was always willing to risk his neck for loyal guys, but if he didn't know where Ozone was or if he was even in danger...
"We shouldn't do this any more."
"Do what? Make deals?"
"No, meet people out there. We should make them come to us."
It was a nice thought, but no one could earn a living that way. Vince suppressed a sigh. "Sorry, man, but that only works in fairy tales. It's risky, but in real life you have to try to meet folks halfway."
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For more stories about Vince, go here.
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