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

by Sam Lee Jackson

  “Way above my pay grade,” I said.

  “You ever shot a man, Jack?” Paz said.

  I just looked at him.

  “He probably hasn’t ever shot a gun,” Wally Chen said.

  I reached out and took the Colt from Peggy. Vanilla had a cigarette hanging from his lips.

  “Flip the cigarette into the air,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Flip your cigarette into the air,” I said again.

  “You’re seriously going to hit that cigarette?” Little Joe said. Paz was smiling.

  “Goddammit, flip it in the air while I still have something to shoot at!”

  Vanilla stepped back. He took the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Ain’t no way he can hit a cigarette,” Peggy said.

  “I do it every time,” I said. It was dark but I could see Paz watching me. He seemed amused.

  “I’ll bet a hundred dollars he can,” Paz said.

  “No way,” Peggy said.

  “You on?”

  “Sure.”

  Vanilla flipped the cigarette. It arched end over end, glowing in the night sky. I casually pointed the pistol at the moving glowing dot, and tracked it till it hit the asphalt in a shower of sparks.

  I walked over to the cigarette and pointing the pistol down at it, I blew it to pieces.

  I walked over to Peggy and twirled the pistol, turning it handle out and handed it to him.

  Paz started laughing, “He never misses.” He looked at Peggy, “You owe me a hundred bucks.”

  20

  “That’s cheating!” Elena said.

  Blackhawk and Nacho were laughing.

  “So, Paz thought it was funny?”

  “Yeah, guess so. Thank God.”

  “What happened to the guy you were supposed to shoot?”

  I shook my head, “They all just walked away, like they had forgotten all about him. By the time I got to Little Joe’s car, he was gone.”

  We were at the El Patron. It was mid-morning and Elena had just come downstairs to the bar. She had performed the night before and she was religious about getting her nine hours. Anita’s wedding reception was tonight and the place was resplendent with all things wedding. Anita was a friend of Elena’s. Elena had desperately tried to get us involved, but it didn’t take. Even though Anita appeared to have found a guy to make her happy, I don’t think Elena had forgiven me yet.

  Jimmy was in already. He must have sensed when Elena would be down. He came from the back with a plate holding two poached eggs and a piece of dry toast. He sat it in front of Elena, then came down to the corner and refilled our coffee mugs. I could hear the back doors open with some clacking and banging. It was the cleaners. A moment later they moved by us, pushing their floor mates and vacuum cleaners. They usually started at the front and worked to the back. It would be a while before they would bother us. Everything about Blackhawk was kept immaculate. His body, his clothes, his cars, his woman and his nightclub. Even now he was wearing a crisp white shirt, pressed charcoal grey trousers, and a pair of gleaming black half boots, that probably cost more than a case of the twelve-year-old scotch he kept in the back.

  “Tell me about the little homeless girl that wanted to give you a blowjob,” Elena said, tearing a piece of toast and dabbing it into the egg. She innocently cocked her head to show she was completely engaged.

  I looked at Blackhawk and he shrugged laughing again. “Elena and I have no secrets,” he said. Nacho was amused.

  “Some girl gave you a blowjob?” Nacho said.

  “Nobody gave me a blowjob,” I said. “She was on the street, and needed some money.”

  “So, you gave her money, but didn’t get the blowjob?” Nacho said. “That was dumb.”

  “Nobody got a blowjob, and I didn’t give her money. I took her down to Father Correa’s.”

  “She gave Father Correa a blowjob?” Nacho said.

  I just shook my head.

  “Father Correa is a good man,” Elena said. She looked at Blackhawk, “You should give him some money.”

  Blackhawk looked at me, “Yeah, I really should,” he deadpanned.

  “What time is Anita’s reception tonight?” I said, to change the subject.

  “You going to be here?” Elena asked, that old something flashing in her eyes.

  “Am I invited?”

  “You have to bring someone. It’s couples only.”

  “What about me?” Nacho said.

  Elena didn’t glance at him, she was looking at me, “You are tending bar,” she answered Nacho.

  Nacho looked at Blackhawk, Blackhawk shrugged. What can you do?

  “What if I don’t have anyone,” I said.

  Elena swiveled to look at me full on. Uh oh, that wasn’t smart.

  “Of course, you don’t have anyone.” She swiveled back and used the rest of the toast to swab up the rest of the egg. “Anita is very sweet, and she liked you.”

  “I liked her too,” I protested.

  “Yes, you like her. So you get drunk and you tell her things that a man only tells a special woman. Some women wait a lifetime to hear these things. Then you disappear and leave her. And, those words are now only words.”

  “I don’t remember that,” I said. “I don’t remember telling her those things.”

  “Of course, you don’t remember. You were a drunken fool. She is too good for you, and now she has found her man. And, you have lost her forever.” Her eyes were flashing, “And, it serves you right.”

  Elena slid off her stool. She looked around the room, evaluating the decorations. She pointed at some bunting on the far wall. “That is too high,” she looked back at me. “The reception starts at seven o’clock. Be sure to bring someone.” She turned and walked across the dance floor to the stairs that led to the upstairs apartment.

  After she disappeared through the upstairs door, I looked at Blackhawk.

  “Is it really couples only?”

  He grinned, “It is now.”

  21

  “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”

  I had found Boyce watching the SanDunes from a half block down the street. She was sitting with a grocery cart, in the shade of some olive trees. The cart had all the stuff in it that a homeless person would have. I was sitting on the curb pretending to adjust my prosthetic.

  “She said it was couples only,” I said. “You’re the only one I know that will go with me.”

  “I believe that,” she grinned. “Who the hell is Anita?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody? But, you want to go to her reception?”

  “Well, maybe not nobody. She’s a friend of Elena’s.”

  She looked at me, suspicious. “Why does Elena give a damn if you go to this girl’s reception?”

  “She’s a friend of Elena’s.”

  “I repeat, why does she give a damn?”

  I was busy strapping my foot back on. “She was…,” I started. “Elena….,.well, she tried to fix Anita up with me.”

  “That sounds like Elena. Trying to fix my emotional problems with one hand, and fixing you up with the other. That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  I stood up and dusted off my seat. “I think I’m being punished for not pursuing it. I got a little drunk and I don’t know what I said, but whatever words I used, Anita took it seriously. Then when I didn’t pursue it, I ended up in the doghouse.”

  Boyce was laughing. “God, Jackson, you are such a douche.”

  “Christ,” I said. “I knew this was a bad idea.” I started to walk away.

  “What time does it start?”

  I stopped. “I think at seven.”

  “I’ll meet you there at seven-thirty. Never be the first one there.”

  “I can pick you up.”

  “Hell, no.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “I want my own wheels. Then I can leave when I want. Hell Jackson, you might get drunk and say those magic words.�
�� She started laughing.

  I didn’t laugh. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” I turned and walked away. It was a half block before I couldn’t hear her laughter any more.

  I still arrived at the El Patron early. I had made an excuse to Frank, telling him I wouldn’t be in. I left the boarding house and walked to the car then drove to the boat. I opened it up for fresh air as I pulled out my one pair of Dockers, and a collared shirt. I was surely getting sick of the boarding house room. I knocked back three inches of bourbon for fortification and drove to El Patron. The whiskey didn’t help. It had worn off before I even got there.

  I was lucky to find a parking spot. I sat and watched for Boyce, and listened to NPR. Boyce was twenty minutes late. Which was on time for her. She had parked across the street and I spotted her coming into the lot. Her hair was down and bounced on her shoulders as she walked. She had a spaghetti-strap red dress on. The hem flounced just above her knees. She was wearing sexy high heels. The kind the young women called fm pumps. She looked really good. I know she did it on purpose. More fodder for Elena’s cannon.

  I got out and thumbed the remote to lock the Mustang. She saw me and was waiting by the front door. Duane was at the front door. He opened the door and held it.

  “Ma’am,” he nodded at Boyce. “How are you?”

  “All healed up, Duane. Thanks for asking.”

  “Mr. Jackson,” he said as I went by him.

  “Jackson, Duane. Just Jackson.”

  The thumping of the bass was palpable as soon as we stepped inside. Blackhawk had closed the two other bars for the occasion. El Patron sported three bars, all with live music. One for the rock crowd, one was country, and the main large room was for Elena and her big salsa band. The salsa band was in full swing. Only missing Elena. We came down the hall to the main bar. The place was packed. The bride and groom were seated at a long table that held the wedding party. Elena was seated next to Anita. She was in a rose-colored gown that matched the other women in the wedding party. I immediately felt sorry for those other girls. Pretty, all of them, but not in Elena’s league. Blackhawk and Nacho were behind the bar, helping Jimmy. They were busy. The bar was three deep. The dance floor was packed.

  Boyce took my hand and dragged me out onto the dance floor. Back to the scene of the crime. I leaned into her ear, “You know I only have one foot.”

  She twirled and began dancing, “Men can’t dance anyway,” she said above the din, taking my hand and twirling under it. She was a good dancer.

  I gave it my best try, but I felt like Fernando the bashful bull. It didn’t really matter. The man was only on the dance floor so that the woman could dance. If the man wouldn’t dance, that didn’t matter either, the women would dance together, or alone if necessary. Finally, the band cut me a break and started a slow song. I started to turn toward the bar but Boyce caught my arm. She pulled me in close and wrapped an arm around my neck. We began to move together. She rested her head on my shoulder. Damn her.

  I spoke into her ear. “You smell very nice. What brand of chicken skin did you use today?”

  She pulled back to look me in the eye, “It’s called j’adore. Do you like it?”

  “It’s unfair,” I said.

  She smiled and lay her head back on my shoulder. We finished out the song without me stepping on her foot. Who says men can’t dance?

  The place was packed. We wound our way through the masses and got close enough to the bar to catch Nacho’s eye. He held up a bottle of Dos Equis with a quizzical look. I held up two fingers. He popped the top from two of the green bottles. With one in each hand he leaned into the bar and spoke to the two young guys sitting there. The band had started up again so I couldn’t hear what he said, but they didn’t like it. He leaned a little closer, getting into their faces and said something else. The look on his face wasn’t friendly. The two men reluctantly picked up their beers and slid off the bar stools. Nacho set a beer in front of each stool and waved us over. Boyce slid up on hers without a glance at the two guys. I glanced. It was met with a very unfriendly look.

  Some things are universal. One is when people start clinking their glass with a piece of silverware the groom is supposed to kiss the bride. The clinking started and the groom leaned over and did his duty. He was a nice looking young man. Somewhat on the stocky side. Anita had been starving herself to fit into her dress. She looked very happy. I hoped she was.

  Boyce leaned over, “How’s it going with Paz?’

  “They took me out on a run.”

  She hitched around, “Oh yeah?”

  “Had a dealer skimming, decided to teach him a lesson.”

  “And took you along?”

  I sipped my beer.

  She set her bottle down and punched me in the shoulder. “That’s great, Jackson.”

  “Yeah.” I took another sip and set my bottle on the bar. Careful to keep it on the coaster.

  She studied me, then leaned forward, “Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to kick your ass?”

  “Not much to happen. The guy was scared shitless as soon as they showed up. I guess Peggy is the crazy guy. Paz threatened to sic Peggy on him and the guy about wet himself.”

  Boyce nodded, “Yeah, Peggy is nuts.” She kept looking at me, the noise of the crowd and band passing over us like a wave.

  I took another drink and watched the crowd.

  “Goddammit, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  I swung around to look at the dance floor. Anita was out with her groom. They could really dance. “I shot a cigarette,” I said.

  Boyce leaned over, into my face, “You don’t tell me what happened I am seriously going to punch you in the mouth!”

  I was laughing. This pissed her off, she balled her fist and drew it back. “No, wait,” I said, raising a hand to ward off the blow. “I did. I shot a cigarette.”

  She lowered her hand, and started laughing. “Jackson, I never know to believe you or not.”

  “Oh, believe it.”

  She picked up her beer and took a long drink, “okay, tell me.”

  We were interrupted by Jimmy setting a plastic champagne flute in front of everyone at the bar. Nacho was doing the same on the other side. Elena and Blackhawk were going through the crowd handing out the flutes to everyone else. The bridesmaids followed behind with bottles of tequila, pouring a little into each glass. Jimmy came back along the bar filling ours. He was pouring just about a shot into each flute but when he reached Boyce he winked and filled hers halfway up. I don’t know that she noticed, she was watching the crowd.

  I was grateful for the interruption. When everyone was served, Elena stepped up on the stage.

  “Okay, everybody, settle down.” She held her flute up. “A toast for Anita and Albert. May they have a long and wonderful marriage, and may they have many fat and happy babies. Saluda!”

  Everyone shouted “Saluda” and tossed back the tequila.

  One of the bridesmaids refilled Anita and Alberts glasses to the brim.

  Boyce put her glass to her lips and took a sip. She looked at her glass. Boyce leaned into me and said, “I thought the tradition was for the best man to make the toast.”

  “This is Elena’s show,” I said.

  “Of course,” she said, still looking at her glass. She looked down the bar at Jimmy then looked at me, “You trying to get me drunk?”

  I laughed, “I didn’t pour that.”

  “Yeah, but your buddy did. So, tell me about shooting the cigarette.”

  So, I told her. While I was telling her, the band kicked it into high gear and everyone was dancing. While I talked, I watched one bridesmaid or another keep filling Anita’s glass. I know impending trouble when I see it. It wasn’t long before the wedding thing was gone and this had turned into one rowdy, full-on, bull-bitch of a party.

  When I told Boyce about leaning over and shooting the cigarette she started laughing. “Paz didn’t get pissed?”

  I shr
ugged.

  Anita and Alfred were tearing up the dance floor. Maybe it was me, but it seemed when their dancing brought them close to Boyce and me, Anita’s laughter was just a little shriller. Boyce was still laughing about the cigarette when Anita’s high heel caught on the hem of her layered dress and she stumbled, then fell hard. She landed just a few feet from us. She struggled to her feet with Albert trying to help her. She saw Boyce laughing. She launched herself at Boyce.

  “You bitch! You think this is funny?”

  Boyce slid sideways off her stool and shoved Anita. Anita’s momentum crashed her into me. I had to grapple with her to keep her from hitting the floor again. She started screaming and hitting me with both hands.

  I think she was calling me names but it was one unintelligible howl. I was trying to keep her from going to the floor, and defend myself at the same time. One of her blows caught me on the ear and it stung like hell.

  By now we were surrounded. Albert came up behind Anita and I tried to leverage her into his arms. She was screaming that I had molested her. It was in Spanish, but that’s sure what it sounded like. Albert pulled her off me and handed her off to a burly guy with a family resemblance to the bride. Albert took a big round house swing at me and I slid sideways and bopped him in the nose. A gush of blood went down his lacey white wedding shirt.

  I got blindsided by a groomsman and I staggered into the bar. Nacho vaulted the bar like a collegiate gymnast over a vaulting horse. Landing, he smashed himself into what, by now, had turned into a giant melee. He grabbed the guy that had blindsided me and slung him into a mass of swinging arms and kicking legs. I took shelter, squatting between the two stools Boyce and I had occupied. She was nowhere in sight. With my back to the bar, I had a remarkable view. Now everyone was into it. There weren’t any sides, people, men and women, were punching and kicking whoever was close. Finally, I saw Blackhawk working his way along the back wall. He stepped up on the bandstand, where the musicians had been busy defending themselves by keeping people off of it. He spoke to the lead guy. The guy with the big guitar. That guy shouted orders to the other musicians and they broke into a loud rendition of Himno Nacional Mexicano. The Mexican national anthem.