Mistaken by J. F. Juzwik

Some days, it doesn’t pay to even open your eyes, you know? I was sitting, minding my own in Josie’s, having two over, a slice of wheat, coffee, and a slice of Josie’s famous key lime, and working out the kinks of what was supposed to be my last score in Jewelsburg. I planned to hit the End of the Line Service Station; the one by the highway on-ramp. Not a big haul, but just enough to blow this dead-end burg. By the time the attendant, Donnie, untied himself and got to the phone, I’d be three counties over. I needed to make sure I got there right at open, before it got busy. I hoped their truck had come last night. I sure wanted to grab myself a few packs of those sugary…

 

“Marty! My man!”

 

The shout startled the hell out of me and I knocked the rest of my pie on the floor. A short, balding man in a three-piece slid into my booth across from me.

 

“How have you been? It’s me. Eddie. You remember. Ma’am? Coffee and a sweet roll to go, please. So, Marty, did you decide on that late model Ford you had your eye on last week at Cool Calvin’s Car Court? There were so many great deals, I just couldn’t make up my mind. Oh, thank you, ma’am. Well, Marty, I’ll be seeing you.”

 

With that, the man got up to leave. I knew I had to straighten out this clown in a big hurry.

 

“Wait. Eddie? You are mistaken. My name‘s not Marty and I‘ve never…”

 

As I got up to follow him out to his car, I slipped on the pie I dropped and hit the right side of my head on the corner of the table. I scrambled to my feet and ran outside, but he was gone. Just as well. Probably on his way to some corporate mind-fuck. I went back inside to pay and beg a couple of aspirin from Josie.

 

Donnie was struggling with the door key when I pulled up. I saw the day’s start-up in the bank envelope tucked in his side pocket.

 

“Hey, Donnie,” I grabbed his keys. “let me help you.”

 

I opened the door and pushed him inside.

 

“Freakin locks,” he mumbled, and flipped on all the lights.

 

He took the money from the envelope and opened the register. I reached into my pocket for my .38 when I heard the bell over the door jingle. Who the fuck would come in here at this hour?

 

“Bob!”

 

Him. Again.

 

“So sorry about before, Bob. I had you confused with somebody else. You still do your wash at Rudy’s Tumble and Go over on Bander? I’ll never forget the night you and I just got our washers going and that drier exploded. What a mess. Yeah, young fella, a pack of smokes, whatever’s cheapest. Thanks. Well, Bob, good to see you. Gotta run.”

 

“Wait. Eddie. You are mistaken. My name‘s not Bob and I‘ve never…”

 

As I turned and ran to catch up with him, I tripped over the display of bottles of window washer and gashed my cheek on the corner of the newspaper rack. By the time I got outside, he was gone. While Donnie was cleaning up the mess I had made, I noticed there were already two customers inside buying coffee and somebody was honking to be let into the garage for an oil change. I went back inside and bought a bottle of aspirin and went home to take a nap.

 

Lunch time. My bag was still packed and in the trunk, and I decided to go with Plan B, which was Dottie’s Dough, the small check cashing place over on Kramer. I already knew their schedule. The front clerk, Annie, went home for lunch from one to two, and Dottie was alone with all that green. Everybody in this lousy town took lunch from one to two, so me and my trusty .38 would pop in to say Hi, Gimme, and then So Long, Sister.

I waited until Annie turned the corner at Kramer and Collier before I crossed the street and strolled inside.

 

“Be right with you, hon. I’m in the back room nuking my meatball sub.”

 

It doesn’t get better than that. Dottie was all the way in the back and the cash drawers were wide open. Like taking candy from a baby. All I had to do was lean over the counter, reach in and…

 

“Phil!”

 

When I jerked my hand back across the counter, I snagged my wrist on a loose nail on the edge. I hoped I wasn’t a bleeder.

 

Dottie ran up front.

 

“Hi. Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting. How can I help you?”

 

I just shook my head, shoved my hand in my pocket, and wondered how much blood I’d have to lose before I passed out. Eddie handed her a check and his license.

 

“All I need today, little lady, is just a quick $25, if you please. So sorry about before, Phil. I had you confused with somebody else. Listen, I forgot to ask you before. How’s that pull-out sofa from Frankie Foster’s Furniture working for you? When we were there during that midnight madness sale of his, you seemed so interested in the red one. Are those comfortable? Thank you, Miss Dottie. Take care, Phil. Gotta run.”

 

No. Not again.

 

“Eddie? You are mistaken,” I screamed. “My name’s not Phil and I’ve never…”

 

On my way out, I missed the last step and landed in Dottie’s parking lot on my face. Good thing she had that gravel paved over last spring. I got up on my knees, but he was already gone.

 

After making a quick stop for some antiseptic and Band-Aids, I headed down the highway and never looked back. Once I passed the county line, I started to breathe a little bit easier. I still had enough cash left to get a nice room for the night and maybe a small bottle of something warm. I believed that life would look better in the morning. Something was sure to turn up.

 

On my way out of a town called Gales Crossing, I passed a burger joint called Think Inside The Bun. I made a u-ee and pulled in the lot. My gut told me Lady Luck was finally smiling on me and calling my name loud and clear. The place was jumping with a bunch of high schoolers. I decided I’d grab a bite, then on my way out to pay, I would empty the register. One look at my 38 caliber buddy and every one of those punks would be running home crying for mama.

 

I had to admit, the burger and fries were great, and the coffee was hot and comforting. The kid at the checkout had his nose buried in some gamer magazine. The time was right. I started to slide out of the booth when…

 

“Stevie!”

 

Eddie patted me on the back and slid in across from me.

 

“So sorry about before, Stevie. I had you confused with somebody else. I just picked up a paper at Sammy’s Stop and Save and got one of their Smoothies. Remember when you got that raspberry one there? That’s what I got today and it was great, but then I got hungry. What’s good here, huh, Stevie?”

 

I debated with myself whether to attempt yet again to explain that he was mistaken and that I wasn’t who he thought I was and that we’d never met before, but instead I took Mr. .38 out of my pocket and shot the fucker square in the face.

 

Now.

 

“Check, please?”

 

 

BIO: J.F. has had a crime fiction novel and a six-part children’s fantasy series published. Her crime fiction/noir stories have appeared on Crooked, A Twist of Noir and Powder Burn Flash. She is currently finishing the final draft of her second crime fiction novel, and she blogs at jfjuzwik.blogspot.com

14 thoughts on “Mistaken by J. F. Juzwik”

    1. Richard, Thanks so much for your comments. Perhaps it seems I went to extremes here, but mistaken identity can drive you crazy and the faster you run to try to straighten things out, the more you seem to trip. People just don’t want to hear that they’re wrong about you. My poor character just couldn’t seem to catch up with his new ‘friend’! (lol)

    1. Paul, Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment. So glad you enjoyed it. I laughed the whole time I was writing it and whenever I read it back. Poor guy, just trying to get a bit of cash and get out of town. Not as easy as one might think.

    1. David, Thanks a ton for your comments. This was a blast to write. My grandkids helped me to come up with names and places where they had previously ‘met’. For wild backstories and names of places, my grandkids are the best inspiration!

  1. Gritty… fast-paced… the imagery is magnificent! Left me breathless… so, went back and read it again… even better!

    Now… this is what writing is about people… pardon my French, but…Damn!

    Absolutely smashing read, Joyce!! Wonderful!!

    1. Veronica, So glad you enjoyed this. Thanks so much for your comments. I haven’t had this much fun writing something in a long time. I still chuckle when I read it back. I do so enjoy creating ‘people’ and the insane experiences that life gets them involved in.

  2. Holy hushpuppies, Lady J. It just keeps getting funnier ever ytime I think back over it. I’ll be snorting about this for days. Talk about timing. Exactly when I thought Why, oh why doesn’t he just shoot the fucker right square in the face? WHOOMP DERE IT IS! Like I said brilliant timing, Joyce. Cool!

    1. AJ, Thanks so much for taking the time to read and for your comments. So glad this gave you a laugh. Life can get pretty nutty at times, right? Once he got to the restaurant and felt he could breathe easier and ‘guess who’ showed up AGAIN, I felt the time had come to clear up the situation. Permanently!

    1. Chris, Thanks so much for your comments. I’m glad you enjoyed this one. It still makes me laugh because nutty stuff like this does happen in real life. Hopefully not the ‘shoot him in the face’ thing, but still…

  3. Botched crime doesn’t pay, but it can be pretty funny! And if ever a fucker deserved to be shot, it was Eddie! Thanks for an enjoyable read, Joyce.

    1. Madam Z, Thanks so much for stopping by to read and comment. So glad you enjoyed this. My poor character just wanted a little cash and to get out of town. Not quite as easy as one might think with a buddy like Eddie around!

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