From Crystals to Diamonds

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

From Crystals to Diamonds

By Plot Roach

I kicked open the door to the bar, letting it bang against the wall and add another dent to the collection there. I knew Larry would be mad, but I needed to make an entrance. He would just plaster it over anyway, like he had all the others.

When all eyes were on me was when I made my way in, my sneakers clomping down on the floor with the sound of heavy army boots. I've always been a heavy walker. You could ask my mama about it, if she was still alive. She used to yell to high heaven every time I came running through the kitchen, telling me that I would wake the dead with a heavy footstep like that.

So it came as no surprise when the inhabitants of the Bermuda Shots Bar turned to me and gave me a look like I was walking with a dead man over my shoulder. Of course, it probably helped that I was.

The formerly alive body was one of my dealers, Chris. Formerly one of my best friends as well. But when your man steals thirty thousand dollars and another forty grand worth of crystal meth from you. You have to put friendship aside for business. Which really sucked since we had been friends since preschool. Damn I hate to end relationships like that.

Chris was thrashed, or at least his body was. I had messed him up pretty badly with the interrogation. A jumper cable, a car battery and a chest full of Black & Decker power tools will do that to a man. Now my garage was a mess and I was walking around with a corpse.
I'm not the only man to make an example out of a dealer who crosses me. One drug lord a few cities over takes the pinkie fingers of those who disappoint him and wears them around his neck like some kind of Amazon witch doctor fetish. And there's this woman in another state who puts her enemies in her garden, giving a fresh rose (fertilized by the dead) to her next victim just before she puts a hit out on him.

Ears, fingers, even privates -I've heard it all.  I went a little overboard by carrying the whole body, so sue me.

I wasn't really worried about cops, they don't come to this side of the city unless there's about five cars all coming together. Safety in numbers, I guess. So my biggest worry carrying a corpse around isn't the law so much as how badly my former friend will stain my clothes. I drop my dead buddy on the bar and order a drink. The bartender doesn't bat an eyelash as he slides a beer in my direction. "Anything for your friend?" he asks with a crooked smile.

"No." I answer, "He's the designated driver."

The silence in the bar is broken up with nervous laughter. Men return to their game of pool, hookers flirt up with potential johns, and even the roaches feel safe enough to resume scurrying in the shadows. "But my friend would like to know where his loving girlfriend is at the moment." I say, tossing the bartender a rolled up ball of cash. He gives a quick nod to the back of the bar as he pockets the bills and I hear the back door open and someone dash out of it.

"Figures." I say. "Think you could watch over my pal here?" I ask the bartender and he just shrugs. I dash out the back.

The good thing is that it's Thursday and the back gate is locked. It's only unlocked for the dump trucks every Friday and Tuesday. My quarry, all three hundred pounds of her, is trying -unsuccessfully- to scale a chin link fence. The only thing she manages to do is make the fence sag under her weight.

"Drop to the ground, Crystal." I yell. It shouldn't be hard for her, she's only a few inches off the ground, after all.

"Don't shoot me, Davis. I didn't have a thing to do with it." she pleads, her face bawled up like some creepy crying babydoll.

"How do you know what I’m asking for if you had nothing to do with it?"

Her face goes blank, I’ve got her now. "Where's my goods, Crystal? Give them back and I’ll let you go."

"I don't have them... At least not all of it."

"Damn" I swear, "How much is left?"

"Chris gave most of the money to his mama -she has cancer real bad and needs an operation."

"Like I never heard that one before. And the 'crystal', Crystal?"

"I took some and gave the rest to friends. It's all gone now, Davis."

"Well, damn." I say. "Now I’ve got to make an example out of you, too."

She screams and hollers, pleading for mercy. No one comes, because that's the city we live in. I cut her a few times and bash her head in with a loose brick from the alley wall. Now I’ve got another body to lug around.

I leave her there and go back to my beer, dead Chris is waiting right where I left him. "Your girlfriend says 'Hi'." I tell him and settle into my seat.

"You gonna move the bodies?" the bartender asks.

"Yeah, as soon as I know what to do with them." I say.

A shadow moves in on me like the Reaper and I've got my knife out before I even feel the handle of it in my hand. It's a woman, granny aged and dressed like she doesn't belong here. Maybe she's lost or her car broke down. Still, I don't put the knife away just yet.

"I think I've got a solution for you." she says and hands me a flyer. It's about custom jewelry. And she goes on to tell me that she's been in the area talking to the local funeral parlors about her product. One thing we don't have a shortage of in this town is bodies, and she's got the answer we're looking for. Well, at least she's got the answer I’m looking for. She'll convert the dead bodies, for a price, into something lighter and a little more flashy for yours truly.

A while later, I stand in front of my dealers, handing out parcels needing to be distributed. I rub the diamond studs in my ears. One is Chris, the other is Crystal, and my men know it. It takes a while for the bodies to become diamonds. There’s a process where they have to be cremated before the ashes can be pressed into diamonds. But the old lady worked a miracle. No more blood on my clothes or backaches from lugging dead bodies around. And no evidence for the police, should they actually try and clean up the crime in the city.

I make sure Chris and Crystal shine when I wear them out in public. I want a reminder in plain view for anyone who wants to cross me. I’ve got plenty of ear left to pierce, but no one's disappointed me yet.