CBWL 054

 

Atlanta, Georgia June 18, 2026

Butterbean walked down the sidewalk with his hood up, trying to keep a low profile. He had already ditched the boxing gear back at the hotel before things went sideways. Now he was in regular street clothes — a black hoodie, jeans, and sneakers that were starting to feel too tight after all the walking.

He kept glancing over his shoulder every so often, making sure nobody was paying him any attention. The sirens were still going off in the distance behind him. He could still smell the smoke on his clothes.

Butterbean wiped his face with his sleeve and kept moving, talking quietly to himself like he always did when he was worked up.

Butterbean: (muttering) “Fuck… that shit got out of hand fast. Wasn’t supposed to go that big. I was just tryin’ to clean it like Tony said… make sure there wasn’t nothin’ left. But once I started pourin’ that bleach everywhere, it just felt like the right thing to do. Burn it all down. No evidence, no loose ends. Tony’s gonna see I handled it. He’s gonna see I took care of business.”

He kept walking, his mind racing. Part of him was nervous as hell — worried that Tony was gonna be pissed he went too far. But another part of him was hoping this would finally count for something. That maybe Tony would look at him different after this. Like he wasn’t just some fat fuck who tagged along. Like he could actually be useful.

Butterbean: (quietly) “I did what had to be done. That’s what Tony would’ve wanted. Clean. No traces. He’s gonna be proud… or at least he won’t be mad. Either way, I gotta go find him. Can’t just disappear. I gotta tell him what I did. Face it like a man.”

He pulled his hood down a little lower and kept walking, heading in the direction of the area where he figured Tony might be. His plan was simple — find Tony, tell him everything, and hope it was enough to finally earn some real respect.

Butterbean didn’t know what kind of reaction he was gonna get. But he knew he couldn’t just sit around waiting. He had to face it.

Butterbean couldn’t help himself.

He kept telling himself to head toward the arena, or at least find Tony and tell him what happened. But the longer he walked, the more his curiosity ate at him. He wanted to see how bad it really was. He needed to know if the fire was still going or if they already put it out. So instead of heading to the arena like he should’ve, he turned around and made his way back toward the hotel.

He stayed across the street this time, blending in with the small crowd that had gathered to watch. The third floor was completely engulfed, thick black smoke pouring out of the windows while firefighters worked to contain it. Butterbean stood there with his hands in his pockets, trying to look like just another onlooker.

He didn’t notice the cop walking up behind him until it was too late.

Police Officer: “Sir, did you have a room in this building?”

Butterbean turned around, heart jumping into his throat. The officer was a younger guy, maybe mid-30s, with a notepad in his hand.

Butterbean: (trying to sound casual) “Uh… yeah. I had a room here. I forgot somethin’ in there earlier and came back to grab it. Walked up and… shit, the whole place is on fire. I couldn’t even get inside.”

The cop looked him over for a second, then squinted like he was trying to place his face.

Police Officer: “Wait a minute… you’re that boxer, right? Butterbean? I used to watch you fight back in the day. You were a beast in the amateurs.”

Butterbean relaxed a little, forcing a small chuckle.

Butterbean: “Yeah, that’s me. Been a long time since I was in the ring though. These days I just try to stay outta trouble.”

The cop nodded, seeming to buy it for now.

Police Officer: “Yeah, well… you picked a hell of a day to come back here. Fire department’s already saying this was arson. Place went up way too fast. We’re thinking it was either some junkies that broke in or the owners trying to pull an insurance scam. Bunch of Indians own the building. Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

Butterbean kept his face neutral, nodding along.

Butterbean: “Damn… that’s crazy. I’m just glad I wasn’t inside when it started. I woulda been cooked.”

The cop studied him for another second, then seemed to decide he wasn’t worth the time.

Police Officer: “Alright, well… if you remember anything or need to give a statement, come by the station. For now, you should probably get outta here. This area’s gonna be blocked off for a while.”

Butterbean: “Yeah, no problem. Thanks, officer.”

Butterbean turned and started walking away, keeping his pace steady even though he wanted to move faster. He didn’t look back until he was a full block away. Once he was sure no one was following him, he let out a slow breath and kept moving.

He got lucky. Real lucky.

Now he just had to figure out what the hell he was gonna tell Tony.

Restaurant – Atlanta, Georgia June 18, 2026

Tony sat in a booth near the back, working through a massive plate of food — two thick steaks, buttered baked potatoes loaded with melted cheese, and a side of onion rings. He ate like he hadn’t had a real meal in days.

Across from him, Wendy sat quietly with nothing but a plain salad in front of her. No dressing. Nothing else.

Tony cut into his steak and pointed at her plate with his fork.

Tony Soprano: “Eat. And don’t ask for anything else. You’re a stupid, fat, old bitch. You don’t need the carbs. Look at you.”

Wendy didn’t argue. She just slowly picked at the salad with her fork, barely eating, her eyes distant.

Tony’s phone started ringing on the table. He glanced at the screen, saw it was Butterbean, and answered.

Tony Soprano: “Yeah?”

Butterbean: (sounding excited, background noise from the bus) “Tony. You see the news yet?”

Tony frowned.

Tony Soprano: “No. What the fuck are you talking about?”

Butterbean: “Turn on the local news. Right now.”

Tony snapped his fingers at a passing waitress without looking at her.

Tony Soprano: “Turn the TV on. Local news.”

The waitress nodded and changed the channel on the TV mounted on the wall nearby. It only took a few seconds before the report came on.

The screen showed the hotel — or what was left of it. The entire building was gutted, thick black smoke still rising as firefighters worked around the wreckage. The headline read:

“Massive Fire Destroys Downtown Hotel – Arson Suspected”

Tony’s fork stopped moving. He stared at the screen, his jaw tightening as he watched the footage. The hotel wasn’t just damaged. It was completely destroyed.

Tony Soprano: (low, dangerous) “…What the fuck did you do?”

Butterbean’s voice came through the phone, still sounding proud of himself.

Butterbean: “I took care of it, Tone. Just like you said. I didn’t just clean the room… I made sure there was nothing left. Burned the whole thing down. No evidence, no loose ends. I figured if I was gonna do it, I should do it right. You know? You’re gonna be proud, right? I handled it clean.”

Tony’s grip on the phone tightened. His voice dropped even lower.

Tony Soprano: “You were supposed to bleach the fuckin’ room. Not burn the whole goddamn building down. Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

Butterbean: (still trying to sound confident) “I thought you’d be happy. There’s nothing left now. Nobody’s gonna find shit. I did good, right?”

Tony stared at the TV screen, watching the hotel burn on the news while Butterbean kept talking in his ear. His face was dark.

Tony Soprano: (cold) “Where the fuck are you right now?”

Butterbean: “I’m on the bus. Headed your way. I’ll be there soon.”

Tony didn’t answer right away. He just sat there, staring at the destruction on the screen while Wendy quietly picked at her salad across from him, completely unaware of what was happening.

Tony Soprano: (low) “…We’ll talk when you get here.”

He hung up without another word and set the phone down on the table, still watching the news report with a hard expression.