They Tell Me I'm The Bad Guy Read Online Free PDF Page A

downtown."
    "Fuck you," I told him again, knowing he c ouldn't hear me over the music.
    "See you this weekend." He took off flying with a rush of air like a jet airplane.
    I watched the fire burning from the rooftop. Sirens echoed through the dark. Fuck me, man. I hoped nobody died. The last thing I needed was to be put on trial because some passed-out tweakers or crack heads burned to d eath in one of those buildings.
    "Fucking shit ," I cursed at myself. The column of smoke hung above the town, glowing amber from the street light.
    I propped my head up on the concrete lip of the Sudiak so I could just lay there and watch while I scaled the fire back gradually, letting it shrink at a pace that could probably pass for the firefighters just doing their job. It took a long-ass time and made my headache five times worse. I also threw up over the edge of the Sudiak and got to see what vomit looked lik e dropping from a hundred feet.
    When it looked like firefighters didn't need my help anymore, I opened up the envelope Kamikaze had given me. It had a ticket for an American Airlines flight out of Cincinnati/Kentucky International. First Class. A yellow sticky note attached to a fake Ohio driver's license with my picture and the name Clive Kimball said a car would be waiting to pick me up when I arrived. He ha d also included a typed letter.
     
    Mr. Donald Guillory,
    We would like to bring you into the loop on a pre-plan for a unique opportunity in an action-oriented team environment. Only those who can truly leverage what they bring to the table will succeed, and your expertise will be invaluable. You will be compensated for your time, and accommodations will be provided for the three days you attend. We look forward to your participation in this and future endeavors.
     
    ' What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins, b ut excels in winning with ease.' - Sun Tzu, The Art of War
     
    Jesus fucking Christ.
    My head swirling with vertigo, I wondered how the fuck this kid knew who I was? I used aliases a lot back in the day. And on top of that, he knew I was running around with Jurgen Chaotischer in Europe? What the fuck? Who was this kid?
    I stared at the dying fire on Wilmont for a while, just in disbelief at how fucking stupid I had been to flare one up while drunk, then rolled away from the ledge onto my back to settle my stomach. Fuck, man, I hated this shit. A bullshit letter and a plane ticket; what the fuck? I would burn so mebody's ass for digging me up.
    As soon as I figured out how to get down off the damn roof.
    And where I'd dropped my fucking keys.

Chapter 4
    Questions and Lies
     
    Twenty-nine hours after Kamikaze left my ass on the roof, I sat in the office of my boss's boss, Chuck Ruiz, in an ironed shirt, tie and everything to interview for head machine operator at the factory. It had been twenty-two hours since I had sworn I would never drink again and eighteen since I had found out the pulled five bodies out of the burnt wreckage on Wilmont Avenue. That was about halfway to Psycho Silvy's number in Chicago.
    Chuck had a ketchup stain on his shirt pocket as if he had tried to cram a hotdog in there.
    "Why do you want this position, Don?" he asked me.
    I wanted more money, why the hell else? "I'm looking to take on a bigger role in the company," is what came out of my mouth. I had heard it on TV.
    "Is that all?"
    "Well, I don't mind the extra pay, either." Idiot.
    When Will had finally shown up to unlock the roof door on the Sudiak from the inside, he swore up and down that he had never told anybody what I could do or who I had been in Europe. I pushed him until he nearly threw me out of his car, but his story didn't change. So more than likely he was telling the truth, which put me in a whole new mess of shit.
    "What are some of your short-term goals?" Chuck asked. The air conditioning vent overhead kicked on and started gently blowing at his noticeably thinning hair.
    "I'd like to get out