Chapter 37
The ringleader squinted at Mickey. “Are you really Mickey Malibu?”
“Depends who’s asking?”
“I’m asking, motherfucker. And when I ask a question, you answer.”
“I’m Flynn McQueen,” Flynn said with that pearly smile.
“Shut the fuck up. Nobody asked you.”
Flynn frowned. “Return to El Dorado? Sahara Rhapsody? Jewel of the Serpent?”
The ringleader looked at Flynn like he was crazy.
“What are you talking about, gringo?”
“Movies, man. Don’t you watch them?”
“Do I look like I’ve got time to watch movies? I don’t even own a TV. That shit will rot your mind. Turn you into a sheep. B-a-a-a-a-h,” he said, mimicking the animal.
Flynn looked disappointed. The celebrity card wasn’t going to work with this crowd.
The ringleader looked back at Mickey. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you Mickey Malibu?"
"Yeah. That's me.”
The ringleader stared Mickey down for another moment, surveying him carefully. "You really are Micky Malibu, aren't you?"
Mickey smiled. "In the flesh.”
“Holy shit, bro! You’re a living fucking legend.”
Mickey smiled again, and a modest shrug tugged his shoulders.
The ringleader lowered his weapon and stepped forward. “I gotta shake your hand.”
The two exchanged pleasantries, and I breathed a relieved sigh.
“It’s not every day you meet a pioneer,” the ringleader said. “That was some pretty crazy shit you pulled back in the day. Is it all true?”
“Most of it. We’re actually developing a movie about it now.”
“That’s really fucking cool.” The ringleader stepped back and raised his rifle again, taking aim. "So where's the money you stole from Pepe Sandoval. $150 million, right? That's what they all say."
Mickey chuckled. "That's just a rumor, unfortunately. It was nowhere near that amount, and that money is long gone now."
"Then what the hell are you doing out on this island in the middle of the night with a metal detector?”
"Just out for a little midnight treasure hunt. That's all. Just like my man said."
"Bullshit. You're out here looking for that money.”
"Kid, that rumor is 40 years old. You really think that money would still be out here after all this time? Do you think I would just now come searching for it?"
"I ain’t a kid, old man. Don't talk down to me. I'm 22 years old."
"I'm telling you, I don't know where that money is. How about I sign some autographs, and we’ll get out of your hair?"
"The fuck I need your autograph for? What I need is $150 million dollars. So, how about you tell me where it is?”
Mickey’s mouth tightened. "Okay, look, you got me. We are out here looking for the money. But truthfully, I don't know where it is. Your guess is as good as mine. Someone kidnapped my daughter, and I need that money to get her back.”
"You expect me to believe that shit, old man? I don't give two shits what you need that money for. I want it. And I want it now!”
"I hate to disappoint you, but you're not going to get it.”
The ringleader didn't like that.
He tightened his grip around the rifle and solidified his aim. The barrel stared at Mickey's face. "I don't think you want to say no to me.”
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear,” Mickey replied. “They're going to kill my daughter if I don't come up with that money.”
"That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem.”
"Until I remember exactly where it is, it's a problem for both of us.”
The kid adjusted his aim again. "I think it's a bigger problem for you.”
There was a long silence as the two stared each other down.
"It’s somewhere on this island, or you wouldn't be here looking for it," Ringleader said.
"I'm telling you. I don't remember where I hid it.”
The ringleader scoffed. "You expect me to believe that shit? How do you just lose $150 million?"
"If I knew where it was, we'd be digging it up right now, you fucking moron."
That enraged the runt. He shoved the barrel in Mickey’s face. "What did you call me?"
"I called you a moron, and I think that’s being generous. I can't give you what I don't have.” Mickey had had enough of this kid’s nonsense. This wasn’t the first time Mickey had a gun pointed at him. He wasn’t about to back down.
"You guys are the morons,” Ringleader said. “Do you know how many booby-traps you walked through coming into this meadow? Idiots. It's a miracle you're still alive.”
We all exchanged an uncertain glance. It wouldn’t be unusual for drug dealers to booby-trap their grows. Maybe we had gotten luckier than we realized.
“What are the odds of that?” the ringleader asked. “That’s fate. We were destined to have this meeting, and I’m destined to have that cash.”
"We’re not the only ones searching for it," I said.
"Did I ask you?” the ringleader said, swinging the barrel around in my direction.
"I’m just saying. Even if you find that money, you think you can just walk away with it without repercussions?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. That’s fuck you money. That’s financial freedom.”
“That money was stolen from Pepe Sandoval. His son wants it back.”
The ringleader scoffed. “Pepe is dead. Why should I care what his son wants?”
“Because Pedro Sandoval is one of the most ruthless people I’ve ever met,” Mickey said. “People feared Pepe, but it was because Pedro was a nutcase. I watched him kill women and children in front of me for no reason. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”
“Shit. You think I wouldn’t do the same? You haven’t seen ruthless till you’ve seen me in action,” he boasted. He swung his rifle back at Mickey, taking aim. “Now you better remember where that money is, or you’re gonna see what I’m capable of."
Blue Bandanna leaned in and muttered to the ringleader. "We can't kill Mickey Malibu. He's like the patron saint of drug smuggling. That would be bad luck.”
Ringleader dismissed him. "What do you know about luck?"
"I know a lot about it. And I’m telling you that shit would be bad. Plus, I recognize this guy,” he said, pointing to Flynn. “He was in that movie, Blood Inferno. He also does those car commercials.”
“Car commercials?”
"Yeah, you know the ones. You just gotta ride the wave, go with the flow, let the universe be your mojo."
"That actually came from a movie, then we used it in the car commercial," Flynn said.
They both stared at him.
"Nobody asked you, man," the ringleader snapped.
Flynn raised his hands innocently.
Just then, a bullet snapped across the field. It narrowly missed the ringleader.
“Get down,” I shouted.
Across the meadow, muzzle flash flickered from the tree line. We were caught in the middle of a turf war.