Chapter Text
“Listen, I know you and I have had our issues, but- look, you gotta help me, OK?” I pleaded with my “buddy” on the other end of the line. I’m standing outside at the edge of the wall, hoping I have enough quarters saved over to get through the most important phone call of my entire life.
My name is Mac “Magbe” Cat. Right now, I look like I just got out of jail. And that's pretty much because I just did. I know that sounds bad, but believe me, it's way worse.
You see, I’m not really a criminal, at least I tried not to be… most of the time.
***
Let me get you a little background: I’ve always had a bit of a ‘naughty streak’ to put it lightly. When I was a youngling, my main hobbies were stealing from the baker, getting into fights with whomever, and lying… a whole lot of lying. To be fair, when you come from the absolute slums of Jersey, you have to learn from day one to fight for the scraps.
I had my way as a common con artist for most of my adolescence, to much of my younger sister's dismay. She and I used to be as close as birds of a feather could be. But as time went on, she started to be more… critical of my “lifestyle”.
My true calling came when I found out about the business of Law. I thought that defending people that couldn’t defend themselves was a good way to clean up my act, to prove I could put my “talents” to good use.
I attended the Law school of Iwerks and worked as a defence lawyer for 20 years.
Life was starting to turn around for me: I was earning enough for my own place in NYC, my sister was happy with me, and I finally had a “good streak". I mean- no one wants to hire some dirty crook to defend them in court, right?
Well, to be honest, my definition of “good” was a little bit more loose than other peoples.
Believe me, I’d do anything to get the job done: Stealing evidence? Sure, why not! Stretching the definition of certain laws? Anything for them! Full blown lying UNDER OATH? Say no more!
And believe me, it was a miracle that I got away with all this for so many years! But with enough loopholes and hush money, anything's possible!
So much so that I earned myself a little nickname, “the Diamond Dog”... which is a really stupid name for a cat if you ask me.
It’s like naming Mel Brookes the “youngman”, ya know?
That really didn’t matter, the point is; I felt unstoppable, I felt like during Mike Tyson his prime! But eventually, my date with Buster Douglas was inevitable.
Enter this skinny tall rat fella (who definitely smelled like he’s from Brooklyn), he walks in and offers me a huge sum to defend him in something. He tells me he’s been framed for stealing his girlfriend's necklace. So, I go over at night at “his place”. The door is locked, so he tells me to sneak in since he’s busy inside. He tells me to go in the bedroom to find him and-
WEEWOO WEEWOO!
I’d been hoodwinked! He went to the cops and made up some phony story.
Eventually, they found all the bad things about me that were true, and as you can imagine- I lost every single thing I’d worked for. My credentials, my house, my car, my money. I was sentenced to a full year in jail! And the worst part of all? I remember the day of my trial, my sister was in that audience. She couldn’t even look at me.
***
“Look, Shyster” I let out a big sigh, “I know you don’t want to see me, right now, no one does. But you gotta believe me, I’m going to change around this time. I have to.”
He thinks about it for a moment, and he finally lets something out, “Alright, listen. There’s this fella in Burbank that needs someone to deal with his… financial matters. Nobody wants to take him right now, but you might.”
I light up at the opportunity, “That is amazing, give me his number right away!” I pull up a small notepad, as he gives me the client's number and address.
“Oh, and another thing. He’d much rather prefer seeing you in person. He's a very hands-on kind of fella.”
Damn it.
“Well that’s great, except that I don’t got anything to travel with. I don’t have a car anymore. I could hitchhike, but I’m not necessarily sure if anybody’s gonna take me.”
I considered giving up this whole deal entirely, until he offered me this: “Mac, I’m doing you the biggest favor I can give you. I can give ya your plane ticket but that’s it. Are you bringing anything with you?” I look over at the only suitcase I have with me next to my feet, nothing is in it except my lucky suit. I shrug, “Nothing really”. “Good, just bring one carry on with ya so they don’t suspect anything, ok?”
I sigh in relief, “Alright so, how are you gonna get the ticket for me?” My buddy scoffs at my questioning, “Don’t worry about it, ok? Relax, I’m doing ya a favor, remember!”. I feel a little iffy about this, but I’ll have to comply or be out of a job. “Fine, I just want to know when I’ll get it.”
“It’ll be there in- uhhh… 2 days tops” He reassures me, “One of my buddies will bring it to ya, got it?”
Sure it's gonna take a while and I’ll have to stay in some cheap motel till then, but it's better than nothing.
I thank him for everything he’s done for me. “You got a place to stay, right?”
… Shit.
“I’ll figure it out,” I try to smile through it, “don’t worry about it, you've done enough for me.”