Size-6-Shoes

The move from New York to the Midwest is not an easy one, especially as a mobster. Klint, coming from a very fierce group of criminals, has traveled half the country in search of a new beginning, a more simple life than the life he came from. Klint has certainly learned his lesson a handful of times; spending decades in prison, receiving plenty of beatings and acquiring numerous scars from gunshot wounds has proven to be plenty of reason to start a new chapter. 

“Would you hurry up in there, I need some new shoes,” Klint shouts as he pounds on the bathroom door of his luxury 5 star hotel room. This hotel has become his temporary home since his move. “Give me a minute to wipe my ass man,” responds his driver, Tony, a young black man that has lived in the Midwest his entire life. Tony was an uber driver before Klint arrived, but soon transitioned into Klint’s driver after the envelopes of cash that he started to receive weekly. Tony has been a guide to Klint since he moved, and has taught him the area pretty well over the past few months. 

“You know a shoe spot?” asks Klint. “Yeah, I know one. I’m not sure if they’ve got what you need though. Unless you want to drive an hour to the city?” responds Tony. “Nah, I got business to take care of later. Let’s stay close.” says Klint.

Tony leaves the hotel, drives a few miles where the duo finds themselves at a small shoe store in a small hick town. The store is called “Size-6-Shoes”. “This place doesn’t only sell size six shoes right?” asks Klint, clearly annoyed. Tony, knowing the answer to that question, just shrugs instead of sharing what he really knows. Though Tony has grown to become very close with Klint these past few months, he is still frightened of how he may respond to things that don’t go his way. 

As they enter the store, they are immediately met by a teenage girl, “Hi! Can I help you find anything?” the girl asks in a squeaky, pre-puberty voice. 

“You guys don’t really just have size six shoes, right?” asks Klint. “Yup! That’s it!” the girl squeaks. 

Kint looks around in disbelief, forming anger. Tony has only seen Klint lash out a few times before, and he gets the sense he is about to witness another. 

“Now tell me how this place stays afloat? This town either has a ton of kids, or is loaded with midgets. Can I see your manager?” angrily says Klint. “Umm, yeah! Sure thing!” nervously squeals the girl. 

Klint turns to Tony and says, “I’m not leaving this place until I get my shoes, or I am compensated for my troubles.” Then, Klint turns and follows the girl. “I’ll wait in the car, boss.” Is all Tony manages to say. 

The girl leads Klint to a small room in the back, which is laced with the stench of weed. Klint enters the room, and the young girl closes the door as she leaves. Klint makes eye contact with the manager, sitting at his desk, and introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Bruce.” Using a fake name prevents himself from giving off too much of an identity with people he doesn’t know.
“Roman,” says the manager as they shake hands. 

“I just want to know if you’ve got any shoes like these? Preferably not in size six.” says Klint as he lifts his pants to display his dirty lizard skin boots. 

“Sorry, only size six.” is all Roman manages to say as he types away on his computer, practically ignoring Klint. 

“I guess I’m not making myself clear,” as Klint pucnches Roman out of his chair, leaving a blood stained imprint of the ring Klint is wearing on the side of his face. “That’s going to be a problem for me.”

“Now from what I know about ‘business’, this place cannot stay in business only selling one size of shoe. What are you hiding? What’s really making you money here?” says Klint, rubbing a knuckle that’s missing some flesh, while bending down to where Roman is laying. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” stammers Roman. 

“You know what I’m talking about. And unless you want to go home today with a broken jaw and a few broken ribs, you either get me my shoes, or you tell me where you’re hiding the safe in this room and I leave with some cash.” says Klint in a slow, threatening voice. 

A brisk five minutes after Tony got in the car, Klint exited the building with a small smirk on his stubbled face. He adjusted his sunglasses, flowed his hand through his slicked back greasy hair, buttoned up his suit jacket, and entered the passenger side of the Cadillac Escalade he asked Tony to purchase soon after entering the area. 

“I guess I’ll just order my shoes online.” says Klint, after sliding a few stacks of cash from the pocket inside his jacket with blood dripping off his knuckle. He hands Tony a stack of cash. “There’s your payment for the week, Now, let’s go take care of some real business.”