Rat Trap 1-1: Bill Is Trapped

Jay lights his cigarette with both hands, cupping the lighter’s flame to protect against the rush of wind coming through the car window. The steering wheel in front of him sways lazily, making the car swerve left and right with it. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Bill reaches over from the passenger seat to keep the car on the road. Last thing they need is to end up roof-over-wheels in a ditch somewhere. 

Jay takes a deep drag, then laughs. Smoke escapes the sides of his mouth, the cigarette hanging loose between his lips. He doesn’t grab the wheel, he just punches the gas.

“You’re doing great, man!” 

“Put your goddamn hands back on the wheel, or I swear—“

The old beater of a car rushes down the pavement, past banks of snow and ice-covered trees, barely staying between the lines. Faster and faster, the wind pushing through the open window, the sound of a world passing by in a blur. And Jay just laughs between heavy drags and clouds of smoke escaping his lungs. 

“See,” he yells over the noise, “it’s not always about control, right? You clutch the wheel, but I’m the one with all the power, see? Control is an illusion, man.”

Finally, Jay takes back the wheel and eases off the gas. Like he just made some profound point or something. The smirk on his face says it all. Fucking maniac.

Bill leans back in his seat, taking in a deep breath of second-hand smoke, then lights on for himself. “You’re unhinged,” he says with his eyes closed. 

Worst thing is, Jay was right and he didn’t even know it. Bill is desperately clinging on to control while being completely powerless. Not here in this piece of shit car (or not just here, anyways), but back in town. Back in the Boss’s office. 

Bill’s been with the gang for a few months now. Jay was his way in, seeing how they were old high school buddies from before Bill and his family moved away. Jay doesn’t know he’s a cop now. He doesn’t know that Bill is back in town after all these years, undercover, to gain the trust and respect of Jay’s Boss. Find a way to bring her down; bring the entire organization down. Drugs, extortion, trafficking—the whole nine. 

***

Just before this road trip, Bill was in her office. The Boss—no one used her name—was sitting behind her desk, texting on her phone. Thugs left and right of him as he entered through the door. One wave of a hand from her, and they left, closing the door behind them. Just Bill and the Boss now. 

He cleared his throat, kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes down. Kept himself smaller, not that her presence didn’t shrink the entire room around her as it was. 

She stopped typing, rubbed her thumb over the screen, then put the phone down before her. If he could get his hands on that phone, he’d have enough to bring her down, he was sure of it. 

“Sit, Billy.” The Boss gestured at a chair across from her. “You’re not in trouble.” Her voice was calm, soft, but somehow, these words sounded threatening. She didn’t come up in this business by being nice, after all.

Bill took the chair, sat down. “You wanted to see me, Boss?” 

It’s not that he is actually scared of her. One-on-one, he could have easily overpowered her, assuming she couldn’t reach in time for the gun that was sitting right next to the phone on the table. 

The real issue is the respect she has in the organization. The backing of the mob. The support of her loyal thugs. The only way out of this—and it is the only way, he knows that—is to bring her down with the law. Collapse the entire house of cards, lock up every single one of them. Even Jay. He hates that idea. Jay was—is—his friend. He just got sucked into this whole mess. This shitty town does that to good people. 

The Boss just glared at him. Like she knew. Like this was the moment his cover fell apart. She just needed to see with her own eyes the rat that he was before putting him down. Maybe he could get to his gun before she did. Get ahead of this situation. Gain control. 

Instead, she suddenly smiled, leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands before her. Bill’s guard came down slightly. 

Then she said, “I think there’s a rat among us.”

Bill got really dizzy right about then.

***

“I’m fucking stoked we get to do this job, Billy!” This time, Jay’s excitement doesn’t translate into reckless driving. Little wins, and all that.

“Yeah,” Bill replied, mirroring his energy. “Did the Boss tell you what this is all about?” 

“First, we have to pick some new guy. I’ll go over the details when we get there.”

“New guy, huh? What’s his name?” Bill already knows his name. It was part of his discussion with the Boss. 

“Al or Andy or something. Who cares, right? Way I see it, we pull this off, and the Boss will finally let me move up. I deserve that, see? Been about damn time I get to play in the big leagues. No more small-time gigs, running drugs, all that shit. Some real gangsters stuff, yeah?” 

Ash. The new guy’s name is Ash. And it’s either him or Jay that is the rat. Or at least that’s what the Boss thought. 

***

“You sure?” Bill asked, trying to keep his voice down. “I don’t know this Ash, but Jay’s good. Known him for a long time. Can’t see him going against you or anyone, really.”

The Boss turned in her chair, got up, and walked a few steps over to a small bar against the wall. “Drink?”

Bill’s eyes shifted over to the phone and the gun on the table, all unattended. It would be so easy. Take her hostage, or take her out. The phone held all the evidence he would need. Bring her in, hand it all over. Get out of this job. Maybe his superiors would listen to him when he explained how Jay is really just a victim in all of this. Confused kid that got taken advantage of. Maybe a few years in minimum security, early parole. 

The clinking of glass brought him back to the moment. The Boss already poured herself a glass. He needed to get back into character, before she grew suspicious of him. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have a drink.”

She poured him a glass as well, slid it over the table to him, and sat down. Not on her chair, but on the corner of the desk next to him. Towering over him. Looming, like a storm about to break.

“Like I said,” Bill started again, “Jay’s clean. I’m sure of it.”

“Good.” She took a sip. “I’ll need you to keep an eye on him, anyway. You and Jay will be meeting with Ash. Jay already knows the rest of the details. Just make sure him or Ash won’t act out, and if you notice anything—“ she paused, weighing her words. More for effect, he was sure. “—untoward, you let me know, won’t you, Billy?”

He turned the glass in his hands as she spoke, not wanting to make eye contact. “What made you think either of them is going to be a problem, anyways?” He chased that question with a big gulp of the—admittedly fantastic—whiskey. 

The fact that Boss is suspecting someone is a rat can’t be good for him in the long run. 

“I have my ways. I’ve received some troubling reports in recent weeks that make me question the loyalty of the people working for me. A few small shipments confiscated; one or two inconvenient run-ins with local police. Enough to take a closer look at some of the street-level operatives. You know, the ones that have much to lose if the police would ever get their hands on them. That would be more easily convinced to give up this line of work in exchange for a more lenient sentence.” 

Shit. His cover is deep, so he doesn’t meet with his superiors often. Can’t risk the exposure. It’s unlikely anything he gave them in the past would lead to disruptions, but it’s not impossible. 

Perhaps this was a test. This whole show she was putting on, wanting him to look out for a rat. Accusing his friend. All to show him that he was not in control. That he had no power. Force him to slip up, make a mistake. Or worse, run back to his real Bosses. 

“Okay, yeah, I get that.” Bill tried to keep his cool in the moment, despite his growing fears of discovery. He had to get the heat off his own breaking facade, so he asked, “Who’s this Ash?”

The Boss got up from the table, returned to her seat. She took her phone, checked something, typed something else, and only then looked back at him. “No one special. Just an associate of mine. Ash will help you and Jay with your job.”

Bill nodded. He finished his drink, set down the glass, and got up. “I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you, Boss.” She has already moved on to dealing with whatever was going on in her phone. So he turned, moved over to the door, and got ready to leave.

Half through the doorway, the Boss said after him, “I’m trusting you with this one, Billy. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Yes, Boss.”

***

Later that day, Jay and Bill arrive at the local fast food joint, where they are supposed to meet this Ash guy. The snow’s piled into dirty heaps to clear the parking lot, and jolly holiday tunes crackle through ancient speakers.

Bill fixates on the large, yellow letter that’s meant to lure in hungry customers, half covered in frozen snow. “Hard to believe this place is still around. Hasn’t change a bit.”

“Yeah, no much changes around here. Ever.” Jay parks the car and makes his way inside. “Might as well grab a bite while we wait.”

Bill follows, but at a distance. He’s still reeling from the conversation with the Boss. No way Jay is a rat, too. He’s too reckless, too involved with this whole life. The chances he is also an undercover cop without Bill knowing about it are slim to none. He enters the restaurant, finds Jay at the counter. 

“What are you having?” Jay asks, squinting his eyes to read the menu off the flickering screens above the kitchen. The generic festive music is even louder in here, and red-green decoration covers half the menu screen.

“Not sure,” Bill replies. “Gonna take a piss first. Just get me a cheeseburger and some fries.” He handed him a few dollars.

“Drink?” 

The whiskey comes to mind. The glass turning in his hand. The Boss looming. 

Do not disappoint me.

“Sure, yes, Boss.” He barely registers this conversation.

He spends some time in the washroom, staring at his own face in the mirror. It’s dripping with the water he threw in it to get focused. One way or another, this whole thing is a setup. Either the Boss knows he’s the rat and is playing him until he slips up, or she truly thinks Jay could be it. If true, she’d expect Bill to do something about this. Either way, he’s fucked. Only hope he has is that this Ash guy is the real problem here. 

When he returns, Jay has already found a booth. He’s waving him over, and as Bill comes closer, he notices someone else is sitting across from Jay. Bill can only see the back of their head at this angle.

Jay laughs and points at the newcomer with air quotes. “This is ‘the new guy.’”

When Bill walks around to take a look at this Ash, he sees the last person he’d want to run into. A familiar face from his past. This Ash guy isn’t a guy at all. It’s Ashley Burton. His old high school flame. The one he left behind when his family moved to the city. The one that got away. All he can do is stand there, eyes wide, mouth open. Frozen from feelings unfelt for over a decade. No control. No power. 

Ash looks him in the eyes. A flash of recognition. A too-long moment stretching over years of lost contact, over broken hearts and unsaid what-ifs.  

Then she says rather annoyed, “You’re late.”

Rat Trap 1-2: Ash Needs Change

Maybe it’s for the best.

Nothing more to her name but a small cell, an even smaller, barred window letting in a pale winter sun, and a strange serenity of waking up from a half-forgotten night out. 

Ash lies on her back on this rock-hard cot, resting the back of her head on her arm. One leg pulled up, the other hanging off, and the fingers on her free hand drumming against her stomach. Her head’s thrumming with the discordant beat of a hangover headache. Not just a hangover, though, is it? Flashes of last night, broken, torn like an abstract painting; red-blue strobes in the rear view mirror, a heavy foot on the gas. Not her car, it was way too fancy for that. Heavy snow crashing against the windshield, a tunnel vision of white dots over dark roads. Then the black ice. The snow drifts pulling the wheels in. A car worth more money than she’ll ever see in her life turning upside down, tumbling into and out of the roadside ditch. It stopped, eventually, when it crashed against a large tree. A fresh blanket of snow fell from its thick branches, covering the wreck as if to hide from the sheriff’s cruiser right behind her. The red and blue lights approach, footsteps crunch through thick snow. 

Hell of a ride.

Ash will be processed properly in the morning. Soon, she thinks, her eyes straining against the light coming through that tiny window of her cell. 

Yeah, maybe it’s for the best. At least in jail she won’t have to try and sell drugs to rich assholes, or steal their cars as payment when they get a bit too physical for her liking. Right after a kick to the balls, that is. Jail might be quiet, much like this holding cell in the local station. No more parties to scout for marks. No more scams and deals and shitty customers. No more boring little towns and their boring little people.

Her fingers stop tapping her stomach. Someone’s coming. Their steps echo through the hallway leading to her cell. The sound mixes with the pain and distorted memories of night. Of crashing metal, breaking glass, crunching snow. She can’t help but flinch and moan a bit. 

Eyes pressed shut tight to block out any more that awful light, she tries to block out the jangle of keys and snapping the lock. Or the grinding and squeaking of the cell door as it opens.

“Just a few more minutes, Sheriff,” she says, without knowing who is actually entering her cell. She assumes it’s Sheriff Stan Owens. She’s too out of it to hear the expensive shoes clacking against the cement floor, or to smell the expensive perfume. By the time she realizes that something is off, the person sits themselves on the cot, forcing Ash to slide over against the wall. Every bit of movement hurts after last night’s crash.

She opens her eyes to look at her visitor, even though she already knows—deep down—who it is. When she does, she instinctively wants to pull back, sit upright. Instead, the Boss puts a hand on her shoulder, firm but gentle, to encourage her to stay right as she is. 

“Easy now,” the Boss says. “Right there is fine, Ashley.”

Ash grunts. The Boss is wearing an expensive coat around her shoulders, her one arm reaching out from underneath it to hold Ash down. Hair and makeup are perfect. Behind her, Sheriff Owens stands by the cell door, putting his keyring back on his belt loop, and then just walks away. 

“Don’t worry, Stan is a friend of mine. He won’t be a problem for you, not this time.” Something wicked hides in her soft smile. 

“Okay,” Ash says, not sure why the Boss would bother to come here herself. Best she starts explaining herself, before the mood changes in this cell. “Deal went bad last night. Things got out of hand—“

The Boss interrupts her with a firm press against her shoulder, sending pain down her body. “What am I going to do with you, niece? Your reckless behavior is costing us clients, not to speak of the exposure assault and grand theft auto tend to cause. I’m of half a mind to just leave you here, Ash. Make you pay for your mistakes.” 

Ash strains against the Boss’s—her aunt’s—hand. Finally, the Boss lets up and slides back, allowing Ash to sit up. She rubs her neck, embarrassed, hungover, hurt. “I know, I know. I messed up. Again. I’d like to tell you that it’ll be the last time, but let’s face it, I’m a mess. I’m not cut out for this shit, you know?” 

A moment of terrible silence. Deafening, threatening. 

“While I find your honesty refreshing, Ashley, it’s also somewhat concerning.” The Boss gets up from the cot. 

Ash remains seated. “What can I say? Crashing an expensive car and waking up a cell affords a certain clarity, I guess.” Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s just the confusion from the hangover and pain, but she goes on to say, “Listen, I appreciate all that you have done for me. Really do. But I don’t think this life is for me anymore. I just need a change of scenery, you know? Move to a different town, or to the city even.” In truth, Ash has no idea what she would do if given the chance. No real education, no cash, no prospects. Does she want to work at a fast food joint for the rest of her life? Or fall back into crime for someone else, someone less understanding of her situation? Ash doesn’t know. All she knows is that she needs to stop this.

Her aunt, her boss—the Boss—takes a few steps forward. Ash braces for the worst, and so is hit quite hard and by surprise when she says, “I understand.”

Ash is about to say something in protest, in self-defense, raise a shield, make a plea. All the arguments deflate right out of her. “You, you what?”

The Boss turns back around to face her. “I’ve not been giving you the chances you deserve. Ever since I came back to town, after I found you practically orphaned, I was so busy rebuilding it all from the ground. I’ve been given an incredible opportunity here, and I was blinded by that. I wanted to keep you out of it at first, you know?”

Ash is at a loss for words. Meetings with the Boss don’t usually go that positively for anyone but the Boss herself. “Yeah, I mean, sure. You have a business to run, responsibilities. I get that. I didn’t mean to imply that you did anything wrong here, or that I don’t get all that you have done for me.”

“Let’s move forward then, shall we?” She reaches out a hand for Ash to take, to help her up. “I want to give you a real chance to make something out of yourself. Right here, within the organization.”

Ash takes the hand, forcing herself up against the pain and sudden onset of dizziness and turning stomach. She clears her throat, finds her balance. “What do you have in mind?” 

“I have a job, and I want you to be in charge of it. Take on some responsibility, prove yourself.” 

“Me?” Ash can’t really believe it. Is this a joke? No, her aunt doesn’t joke, especially when it comes to her line of work. The look in the Boss’s eyes is nothing but serious. “What is this job?” A tremor in her voice, the possibilities beginning to spiral in her mind. 

“Not here, Ashley. As much as I’m sure the Sheriff values our privacy, we wouldn’t want to accidentally implicate him with untoward information that puts him in conflict with his sworn duties.” She walks out of the cell and gestures for Ash to do the same.

But Ash hesitates. If she walks out now, if she follows her aunt out of this cell, there’s no turning back. And her aunt knows that.

“The choice is yours, Ashley. Stay in this cell, let good old Sheriff Owens do his job, and find yourself locked up for good. Or walk with me, and rise to your true potential.” 

Maybe she should think this through better. Maybe she should refuse. But she was just given a chance to prove herself. That’s not something she has had happen to her, well, ever. Time to make something out of herself. 

She takes a step outside of the cell, a step toward her new future.

The Boss smiles. “Good. And don’t worry about that client of yours and his car. It’s all taken care of.” Taken care of could mean all sorts of things, though Ash is pretty sure which of them it is. 

The Boss continues, “You are family, after all. And he was treating you not the way you deserve to be treated. Let me fix that.”

Together, they leave the station without any problems. Sheriff Owens doesn’t even look up from his desk, avoiding eye contact as best as he can, much to the dismay of his deputy, who is not yet on the Boss’s payroll. 

They pull away from the building in which she was locked up just moments ago, and Ash’s starting to get a good feeling about this.

Yes, this is for the best.