The Bag Lady, the Boat Bum and the West Side King

by Sam Lee Jackson

“Glass of beer and a shot,” he said. “Get the lady another of what she’s having. In fact, get her a double.”

  Bernie hitched around giving him all her attention. I pulled the beer, poured the shot and set them in front of Nacho. I pulled a tall glass and filled it almost to the brim with Crème de menthe. Turning my back, I shielded pouring a slug of rum in the drink. I set this on the bar more toward Nacho than Bernie. She leaned into Nacho and lifted her glass.

  “Saluda” she said.

  Nacho lifted the shot glass and touched hers.

  “Saluda”, he returned.

  He emptied the shot glass then took a drink of beer. He pulled a wad of money from his pocket and peeled off a twenty. He tossed it on the bar, “Keep the change,” he said. He pushed the shot glass toward me. “One more of those,” he said.

  I turned to refill the shot glass. Bernie had leaned into him, pushing the full weight of her breasts against his massive arm.

  “Where have you been?” she said, her eyes glassy and bright.

  I sat the shot in front of him and moved down the bar and sat on my stool. Bernie was turning on the charm, and Nacho looked like a man eating it up. When Bernie finished her drink, Nacho turned to look at me and I pointed at Frank.

  He waved at Frank, holding up his empty shot glass, “Two more of these,” he said.

  Frank came down and filled then sat the full shot glasses in front of Nacho. Again, Nacho pulled a twenty and shoved it toward him. Frank made the change and set it in front of Nacho. Over the next hour, Nacho repeated this three more times.

  Little Joe and Wally Chen had paid close attention to Nacho when he had come in, but now he was in Bernie’s clutches they went back to playing cards.

  Finally, Bernie slid off her stool and patting Nacho on the arm, headed for the ladies room. She was concentrating on not staggering. I moved behind the bar and down to Nacho. When Frank was turned away, and the other two were engrossed in their cards, I nodded at Nacho.

  He pulled the cheap, burner, cellphone from his pocket. We had down-loaded the Bono Pike bus stop photos onto it. He slid it to me and I dropped it into Bernie’s purse. Nacho slid off his stool and left. I returned to my stool.

  A minute later Bernie returned and looked all around. She turned to me, “Hey, Jack, where did that guy go?”

  I shrugged, “He left.”

  “Well, son-of-a-bitch!” she said. She climbed back up on her stool. She pulled her purse off the bar and placed it on the stool next to her.

  I went behind the bar, and went to the other end where Frank was. He looked at me. In a low voice I said, “I don’t want to cause trouble, but that guy that was down there with Bernie. He left. He forgot his cellphone, left it on the bar, and Bernie put it in her purse.”

  “Well, shit,” he said. “She knows better than to pull that crap in here.” He moved brusquely past me. He reached over the bar and grabbed Bernie’s purse.

  “What the hell!” she squealed. “What the hell are you doing, Frank?”

  He opened it and peered inside. He reached in and pulled two phones out. Hers had a powder blue cover.

  Bernie tried to grab the purse, he held it away from her.

  “You got two phones, Bernie?”

  She was bewildered. “No, I ain’t got two phones.”

  “Which one is yours?”

  She pointed at the blue one, “That one’s mine,” she said. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He dropped the blue one back into the purse. “Where’d you get this one?” he said, holding up the burner.

  “I didn’t get it anywhere. I ain’t never seen that phone before in my life.”

  Frank handed her back the purse.

  “I catch you stealing from the customers in here, I’ll have Peggy have a chat with you.”

  Bernie’s eyes widened. This frightened her.

  “I ain’t stealin’ nothing,” she said. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “I didn’t steal nothin’. Fuck you both!”

  Frank looked at me.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. I need to know shit like this.” He started looking at the phone. I moved to my stool

  We had rigged the phone so no password was necessary. We had cued up the photos so the one that clearly showed Bono Pike with Blackhawk and Nacho looking like bodyguards, was first on the screen.

  I watched idly as Frank messed with the phone. Then he stiffened, staring at it. He began swiping the screen with his finger, going from one picture to the next. To make it look authentic, we had loaded it with some of Elena’s family photos. We had filled the cues with phony calls. Casino’s, liquor stores and such.,

  I was looking at my beer when he turned to look at me. He pivoted and went to the table where the guys were playing cards. He showed the phone to Little Joe. Little Joe swiped the photos with his finger. He handed it to Wally Chen who stared at it then said something I couldn’t hear. He handed it back to Little Joe and they both stood. They took the phone down the hall to the office. I waited.

  A few minutes later Little Joe came back out and came down to me. I looked at him, raising my eyebrows, the picture of innocence.

  “Yes sir?” I said.

  “The boss wants to talk to you,” he said.

  I slid off my stool and went back to the office, him right behind.

  Paz was behind his desk. The TV on the wall was on but the sound was muted. The suit he wore was shiny. Blackhawk had one like it. I think it was seersucker, or sharkskin or some such. The kind of suit someone with a lot more money than me would wear. As usual his hair was slicked back, every strand in place. He was holding the burner. He handed it to me.

  “You say some guy left this in here and Bernie lifted it?”

  “Yes sir,” I said. I grazed the screen with my thumb to wake it up. It was on the picture I wanted him to see.

  “Tell me about him.”

  I grimaced, “Not much to tell. Came in and Bernie invited him to sit next to her. Usual shit she pulls. He bought her a drink, then they started doing shots.”

  “What’d he look like,” Paz said, watching me.

  I looked down at the phone. Using my thumb and forefinger I enlarged the picture to a head shot of Nacho. I handed the phone to Paz.

  “Like this,” I said.

  Paz spent a few moments studying Nacho, then he resized the picture and studied Blackhawk, Pike and Pony Boy. Finally, he looked up at Little Joe.

  “What the hell is that fuck doing in here?”

  “Checking us out,” Wally Chen said.

  “Yeah, but why?”

  “You think he’s getting ready to make a move.”

  “Hell, I’ve been giving him his space. I wanted to, I’d squish him like a bug.”

  “He doesn’t have the crew to take us on,” Wally Chen said.

  Paz suddenly realized that I was still standing there. He nodded at Little Joe.

  “Thanks Jack. That’ll be it,” Little Joe said.

  Time for me to go. I went back into the main bar and started cleaning.

  18

  It was Saturday night. The nights were staying warmer longer so Frank left the front door open. There was a soft northern breeze that occasionally found its way into the bar, muting that dead bar smell with something cleaner.

  I had been waiting for several days, biding my time, waiting for the right moment. Finally, Vanilla came in and I figured this was as good a time as any. All of Paz’s hierarchy was here. I slipped the phone I’d been using from my back pocket and hit the speed dial number for Blackhawk. I waited until it connected then pushed the number one key three times in rapid succession, and hung up.

  They were all in the back office, which usually meant something was up. Nobody playing cards, nobody at the bar. I hoped they would stay there awhile. They did. Almost an hour passed before Little Joe came back out and spoke to Frank. Frank took his apron off and came down to me.

  “I’m going with t
he boss. I need you to tend the bar till I’m back.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. I stepped behind the bar and wrapped an old apron I had been using around my waist. Frank went to the back. Behind the bar was a small garbage can with a plastic bag liner. It was half full. I went through the bar and put everything trashy I could find in it. I pulled the filled liner from the can and tied it at the top. I put a new bag in, and sat the bag of garbage behind the end of the bar, steps from the door.

  The guys were back in the office so long I began to worry that I had misjudged. Maybe they weren’t going anywhere. Paz was not a team meeting kind of guy. He dealt one on one. With them all together, I figured they had something planned. I was setting a mug of beer in front of an old grizzled guy with more hair in his ears and nose than on his head when the back-office door opened. I turned and moved closer to the bag of garbage. I got busy wiping things down. They were leaving. Peggy and Vanilla came out first, followed by Wally Chen and Frank. Little Joe preceded Paz. Paz came out adjusting his suit coat like a man adjusting a hidden piece. He was impeccable. They filed through the front door, into the parking lot. As Paz went by me, I picked up the garbage and followed him out. He paused just outside and glanced back. He saw I was taking garbage out. He looked at me a second then stepped out into the parking lot toward the big, black SUV he used. I was right behind him, but not too close. Wally Chen was walking across the lot toward Paz’s vehicle. Peggy and Vanilla were lighting a quick smoke before they would get into Paz’s car. Never could figure that out. Two puffs and throw it away.

  The lot was dimly illuminated by pole lights on either side. The SanDunes sign lit part of the street. Across the road, a street light lit up the far side and the sidewalk. Timing is everything. Blackhawk was on his.

  I was a step behind Paz when an older Lincoln Continental pulled rapidly into the light on the street. It came to a screeching halt. Nacho popped out of the driver’s side. Blackhawk came around the front. Blackhawk was sporting his trademark red bandanna, and they both had AK’s.

  Little Joe yelled, “Boss!” as he ducked and pulled his piece. Blackhawk and Nacho opened fire.

  I dropped the bag of garbage at the first shot and slammed into Paz. He was trying to pull his piece as I knocked him off his feet. I threw myself on top of him, pinning his gun hand. Blackhawk’s rounds slammed around us spitting dirt and plaster everywhere. Nacho’s rounds flew harmlessly into the night sky, but they didn’t know that. It lasted just a few seconds then as quickly as it started, Blackhawk and Nacho and the Lincoln roared away.

  Peggy and Vanilla had thrown themselves behind Paz’s SUV. Wally Chen was on one knee firing at the retreating Lincoln. Little Joe rushed over to us, his pistol in his hand.

  The shots were still ringing in my ears. Paz was struggling under me.

  “Get the fuck off of me. Get the fuck off of me.”

  I rolled off and came to my hands and knees.

  Paz scrambled to his feet. “Goddammit, what the hell are you doing.” He had his pistol out pointing it at my face. “You stupid son-of-a-bitch!”

  Little Joe stepped over and took his hand. He gently pulled the muzzle away from me.

  “Hold it boss. Hold on, he was trying to help you. He was covering you up.”

  “Shit,” Paz said, jerking his hand away. He started dusting his clothes off. Peggy and Wally Chen were staring at the street where the Lincoln had disappeared. Their guns were ready but they had no one to shoot. Vanilla was getting to his feet, his white suit smudged by the asphalt. Wally Chen began to reload.

  “What the hell was that?” Paz demanded.

  I waited. I wanted someone else to say it. Little Joe did.

  “Those were Bono Pike’s guys.”

  “That was Pike?” Paz said, still trying to get the dirt off his suit.

  “One of those guys looked like that guy that came into the bar. The guy that Bernie stole the phone from,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “That was the guy, and the guy with the bandanna was in those pictures.”

  “Fuck,” Paz said. “Somebody get me another suit out of the closet.” He turned and stared down the street for a long moment, then went back inside. We all followed.

  The customers weren’t sure what to do. They didn’t know whether to duck or run.

  “Bar’s closed,” Frank said loudly. He turned to me, “Close it up.”

  Paz, followed by his guys, went down the hall to the back. Frank went with them.

  I shooed all the customers out. They were reluctant to go outside.

  “It’s okay,” I said loudly. “It’s all over. It’s safe. Go home.”

  Finally, there was only old hairy ears left.

  “Time to go,” I said.

  He finished his beer in two gulps. “What the hell are they celebrating out there?”

  “Disneyland at night,” I said. “Time to go.”

  I followed him. When he was outside, I closed the door. I spent the next half hour cleaning up. When I finished I wasn’t sure whether to leave or not. I decided to wait.

  Finally, the back door opened and the guys filed out. Just like before, with Paz taking up the rear. He had a new suit on.

  Frank gave me a look I didn’t understand. He went past me and opened the door. He held it as the others trooped out. None of them looked at me.

  Paz stopped beside me.

  “I want you to come with us,” he said. He turned without waiting for a response. I followed him out.

  19

  There were so many of us we took two cars. Little Joe waved me into his black Beemer. I climbed into the front passenger seat. The rest were in Paz’s SUV. Little Joe followed Paz’s SUV as it pulled out of the parking lot. I thought I caught a glimpse of Boyce, but couldn’t be sure. A shadow behind a dumpster. There was hardly any traffic. We followed through the night streets. Little Joe blew through a couple of stoplights keeping up.

  We followed Dunlap to where it became Olive and continued west. After a while we ducked south and drove into downtown Old Glendale. Eventually we pulled over and parked on the street. Both drivers had cut their lights as they pulled to the curb.

  I expected to be getting out, but we didn’t. Little Joe shifted in his seat to get comfortable. I did the same. I looked around. There weren’t many people on the street. A half block ahead I could see an occasional car pull to the curb. A man came out of the shadows and a transaction took place. The cars drove away and the man would disappear back into the shadows.

  Little Joe was sitting comfortably, watching.

  “I hear talk in the bar,” I said. Little Joe didn’t appear to hear me. “They say that Paz controls all the drug trade on the west side.” Little Joe sat silently. He didn’t answer. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”

  Finally, Little Joe turned to look at me. “Mr. Paz is the king of the west side. Nothing goes down he doesn’t have a piece of.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You’re not in trouble,” he continued. “Mr. Paz was impressed with how you reacted when those assholes opened up on us.”

  He turned to watch another car pull to the curb and the shadow man come out to it.

  “Who were those guys that tried to shoot us?”

  “Ain’t no us. They were after Mr. Paz. You notice how Vanilla dove to the ground as far from Mr. Paz as he could get? They work for a guy name of Bono Pike. He’s starting to get big for his britches. He thinks he can take Mr. Paz’s business from him.”

  I watched the shadow man plying his trade. “Is that the Pike guy?”

  He laughed. “Hell no. Pike’s down in south central. This guy’s a greedy little shit who thinks he can skim Mr. Paz’s money.”

  “But, you guys know he’s doing it.”

  “You ask too many questions. Just sit and watch.”

  After ten minutes of watching, the lights on Paz’s SUV came on. Little Joe started his engine. The SUV pulled away from the curb and quickly moved down to where th
e customers had been pulling to the curb. Little Joe pulled in behind.

  “Come on,” he said sharply, and piled out of his door. I followed suit.

  Everyone was out. The man tried to run but Wally Chen and Frank blocked him. Peggy got a hold of him and slung him against the stucco wall. He practically flew, and his body made an audible thump against the wall. The man slumped to the ground. He was a black guy with a shaven head and earrings. He wasn’t small.

  He looked around, eyes wide with fright. He scrambled up against the wall. Paz signaled to Frank and Little Joe and they put their hands on him, and lifted him to his feet. All these bad guys around him, but his eyes were locked on Cicero Paz. Paz frightened him.

  “Hey man,” he stuttered. “I was coming by tomorrow. No shit man, I was gonna bring you the juice.”

  Paz held his hand out, palm up.

  The man didn’t hesitate. He pulled a zippered pouch out of his back pocket and handed it to Paz. Paz unzipped it and pulled a thick stack of bills out.

  “I’m told you are keeping more than the appropriate amount for yourself,” Paz said. He carefully enunciated each syllable in appropriate.

  The man was shaking his head. “Uh, nope, I ain’t done that.”

  “So, you are saying that the man that told me that is lying?”

  “Oh, yeah Mr. Paz. Whoever told you that is lying. I know better than to try to cheat you.”

  “So, I want to be sure. Whoever told me that, was lying?”

  “Yessir.”

  Paz turned to Peggy, “The man says you are lying, Peggy.”

  This terrified the man. He slumped down again. He began to whimper.

  “No one calls me a liar and lives,” Peggy said. He pulled his hand gun from his belt and pointed it at the man’s head. It was a Colt 45acp 1911 semi-automatic. All the whimpering man could do was to hold up a hand, palm out, to ward off the bullet.

  “Have Jack shoot him,” Wally Chen said.

  Peggy lowered his gun, “That’s a good idea.” He reversed the gun and thrust it at me.

  I looked at the gun, then at him, revealing nothing.

  “What’s the matter, you don’t have the balls?”