Chapter Eighteen – Spike

Lee “Spike” Douglas shook his head slowly as he looked over the open file in front of him. It was a good two inches thick filled with countless misdemeanors and minor abrasions of the law. The man sitting across the desk from him had been in and out of prison for minor sentences more times than Spike could be bothered to count. This latest stunt was sure to land him in the slammer for at least five years, though, and that was with good behavior.

A long sigh escaped Spike’s lips as he studied the young man sitting in his expensive leather chair, twiddling his thumbs and looking highly uncomfortable. He was just a regular street punk, hair dyed blue, piercings in both ears, his eyebrow, tongue, lip and Lord only knows where else. He had a long tattoo that was barely visible peeking beneath his sleeve. Spike had asked him once what it was. His girlfriend’s initials, of course. P.M.

“You’ve really landed yourself in a heap of trouble this time, Luke.” Spike frowned at his client knowing that nothing he said would really sink through this man’s thick skull. “They’re not going to let you off the hook like last time. What were you thinking when you mugged that little girl?”

“How was I supposed to know she was only sixteen?” Luke scowled at Spike, his lips twisting up in a sneer. “She was built like a real woman.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Even if she was forty it would be illegal to attack and mug her, Luke. I thought you’d gotten bored of petty theft by now.”

“Obviously not bored enough.” Luke chuckled as he smacked his gum loudly in his mouth, making Spike want to reach out across the table and slap Luke’s hand with a ruler. Spike was only a couple years older than Luke yet the chasm in maturity levels was vast.

“Look, Luke,” Spike cleared his throat, closing Luke’s file and replacing the thick rubber band that kept it so. “With your record there is no way the judge is going to let you off the hook this time. You’re looking at five years, minimum. Five years of your life, Luke. You’ll be what, twenty-six, twenty-seven by the time you get out? Is that what you want? Do you really want to be separated from your girlfriend – what’s her name again?”

“Patsy.” Luke stated glumly.

“Yes, that’s right. Do you really want to be separated from Patsy for five years?” Spike studied Luke carefully, trying to read the young man’s emotions. “That’s an awful long time. Do you really think she’ll wait for you?”

“I’d miss her prom.” Luke muttered numbly. “Her graduating—“

“Luke, I don’t want to hear that you’re dating an underage girl, okay?” Spike scowled at him. Luke had tried to tell him several times before that the love of his life was only sixteen (just like the girl he attacked!), but Spike had quickly stopped him every time.

“Right, right. Sorry. I keep forgetting.” Luke’s mood seemed to dampen at the thought of being separated from Patsy for five long and lonely years. “I guess you’re right, Spike. I really wasn’t thinking. But now I’m pretty much screwed, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Spike smiled, his eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. “There is something that you could do for me that might encourage me to fudge a little on the report, get you a light sentence if any sentence at all.”

“Y-you can do that?” Luke sputtered.

“I can do a lot of things, Mr. Perry.” Spike chuckled, drumming his fingers atop his rich lacquered desk. “But before I do anything, anything at all, you must do my little assignment. It’s not difficult but is very much in the gray area of the law.”

“You mean it’s illegal?” Luke looked at him dubiously.

“Gray, Luke.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Not illegal. Will you do it?”

Luke hesitated, studying his parole officer carefully. Spike knew Luke would accept. He had no other choice. “Alright,” He said at long last. “I’ll do it. Now what is it that you want me to do?”

“Deliver this.” Spike reached under his desk and set a package wrapped in nondescript brown paper on the top. It was quite a small package, anything bigger might alert suspicion.

“I never deliver any package that I don’t know what’s inside.” Luke folded his arms against his chest. “You could be having me transport drugs for all I know.”

“Gee, really?” Spike rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never done that.”

“I told you, I got out of that racket. Too dangerous. Patsy didn’t like me doing it.”

“Oh, and she approves of you mugging young girls in the park?”

“That’s different.” Luke scowled.

“Right, right.” Spike nodded, growing impatient with the delinquent sitting across from him. “Look, Luke, it’s not illegal drugs. I promise you that. It’s perfectly legal. Just some pills that a friend of mine needs in Wellington. I can’t get away for even a weekend to bring them to him and they’re too delicate to be shipped through the post.”

“Pills?”

“Yes, pills. Now will you stop repeating everything I say?” Spike growled, gripping the arms of his high-backed leather chair. 

“Right, sure. Sorry.” Luke mumbled         

“Good.” Spike calmed himself. “Will you do it?”

Luke said nothing, his eyes downcast.

“I said, will you do it, Luke?” Spike repeated himself, annoyance building in him again. “Will you deliver my little package here and save yourself five years in prison and away from your precious Patsy?”

“Yes.” Luke’s voice was hoarse and choked. “I’ll deliver your package. Just tell me who I’m delivering it to.”

Spike smiled triumphantly. “Dr. Michael Greenfield. I’ll give you his address.”