New Brew

by Mark Lashway

  “Shit, you’ve got to be kidding. You’re four idiots, not superheroes. Anyway, I’ve got nothing to say. You can beat on me all you want. I’m saying nothing,” Lando replied.

  “Really? You really want to go down that road, Duke?” Ralphie asked, eyebrows arching. “Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and tell us first about the package you’re expecting.”

  “Package? What package?” Lando replied, trying to bluff it out.

  “You answered back a little too quickly, and I noticed that hard swallow you just did,” Ralphie chuckled, giving Lando a mild slap in the temple. “We know you’ve got a package coming, Duke. As I said, make it easy on yourself.”

  Goddamnit it, how do they know about that? Lando asked himself. This is bad, really bad! How much do they know? How much does anyone else know? “Umm, what makes you think that I’m expecting….mmm….a package did you say?”

  “Well, Duke, you see, Cherie and Sonia were very cooperative with us, so we know about the package that they were to receive, then hold it for you.”

  “Those worthless fucking bitches….” Lando moaned, ready to cry. Oh shit! Now there’s no way I can have those sluts killed. It’s all falling apart….

  “They tried to brazen their way through it, just like you right now,” Ralphie chuckled. “But you see, Eddie over there has a talent for eliciting information. Last year we gave the treatment to Tony Rizzo, we just finished with the girls earlier and now you’re in the hot seat, Duke. You’re a smart enough man to see what your future holds if you defy us, right?”

  “Why do you clowns do stuff like this?” Lando groaned. I’ve got to get them off on a tangent for a little while and gain some time to think.

  “I’ll answer that,” Wally the Preacher declared, his eyes getting bright at the chance to take center stage. “It’s rather simple, Duke. GWIBE, like all wonderful things, is full of great, smart, talented people. But like all great things it unfortunately also draws some of the lower elements of society, much like a college town draws some scumbag males who are there only because there’s bound to be young women around. Now, history shows that when the criminal elements are not dealt with and are allowed to roam freely, the great thing rots away, falls into anarchy and is destroyed.”

  “Amen!” Eight Ball replied. The other horsemen nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “That’s not a very Christian way of dealing with things,” Lando said, feigning sincerity.

  “Turning the other cheek and the nobility of martyrdom are where Christianity errs,” Wally solemnly replied. “That’s why it’s losing ground to the Muslims around the world.”

  “OK, then, how about two wrongs don’t make a right?” Lando quickly countered.

  “Actually, two negatives do make a positive,” Wally came back at him, “at least in math, English and informal justice.”

  “Our philosophy on these matters is well-developed, Duke,” Ralphie told him. “Our positions on justice are underpinned by historical experience and well-honed through hours of group discussion on this topic. We might not have the physical powers of superheroes, but we certainly have the dogged determination of those convinced of the righteousness of the faith.”

  Oh no, I’m in the hands of fanatics, Lando realized at last, fear coursing through his entire body. However, he got it under control. They can’t know much about the package, since I never told those two bitches anything. I can seem to give in by giving them a good lie….

  “You’re a clever man, Duke,” Ralphie continued. “You didn’t tell the girls enough for them to betray your plans. Compartmentalization, that’s what it’s called, and I’m guessing that you’re gonna feed us some really slick lies to divert us and buy yourself time. Isn’t that right, Duke? You see, we know better than to think you’d give it up that easily, right? We figure that the real truth will only emerge from a hardcore slime like you through duress. Eddie!” Ralphie yelled it out even though Eight Ball was standing only four feet away, wanting dramatic effect.

  “I’m ready,” Eight Ball muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. He walked around in front of Lando, showing him the various items in his hands.

  “I assume the rope is to tie me down,” Lando said, trying to appear unafraid, steeling himself. Billy Bomb and Wally had hold of him and he couldn’t break free.

  “That’s right,” Eight Ball answered with a nod.

  “What’s with the meat skewer and the bottle?” Wally asked. “Are those items from our communal treasure trove?”

  “Why, certainly!” Eight Ball replied, grinning. “I came up with an appropriate treatment for Duke here. Now, Duke, as we all know, is a pretty tough piece of meat, and what do you do with a tough piece of meat, guys? Why, you marinade it.”

  “Oh, I get it now!” Wally exclaimed, very excited. “You’re going to poke holes in him with the skewer, then pour that sulfuric acid into the holes and let him sit for a while as he tenderizes! That’s brilliant, Eddie! You should’ve been an artist, you know that?” The other horsemen silently shook their heads in awe at yet another exhibit of Eight Ball’s genius.

  “Aaaaaaagh! Ummph!” Lando screamed before it was halted by Billy Bomb punching him in the stomach.

  “Let’s get him tied down,” Eight Ball ordered as he held up two lengths of rope. “Make sure to gag him, too. Code or not, he knows that he’s in for it now.”

  “I can’t wait to get the whole story,” Ralphie said.

  “Yeah, then we can ferret out whoever else at GWIBE is working for him,” Wally added.

  “What the fuck is going on here?!” bellowed a new voice from the entrance to the tent. They all looked over to the door to see Tom Deville and Clay Sharper standing there.

  Billy Bomb acted quickly. Running about five feet, he launched himself into the air at the two men like a missile gone awry. “Yaaaaaaaaaaaa!” he screamed, his eyes wild. Sharper’s eyes grew wide as he realized that Billy was going to land on him, but that was all that he had time for as 170 pounds of crazed horseman hit him in the chest and flattened him to the ground just outside the door.

  “Unnnh!” Sharper groaned as he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Billy Bomb took advantage and got Sharper in a headlock.

  “You fucking nerd bastard!” Deville snarled as he rushed to his friend’s aid. Then he got jumped by Wally the Preacher and Ralphie and dragged to the ground. The two piles quickly became mixed, with five men flailing wildly as they attempted to free their arms enough to throw punches, which turned out to be quite few.

  Duke Lando, now mostly unsupervised, planned his next move. Eight Ball, the only unengaged horseman now, took his eyes off his prisoner as he began to move toward helping his friends and carelessly passed close in front of Lando. The crafty Lando waited just long enough for Eight Ball to turn the right way then launched a quick, hard kick, trying to catch the horseman in the crotch. Fortunately for Eight Ball, he turned a little at the last second. The kick took him in the outer thigh, but was still enough to drop him.

  “Aaaaaagh!” Eight Ball cried as he fell to the ground. Lando gave a low growl and leaped from his chair and on top of the stricken horseman. Eight Ball saw a punch coming and balled up instinctively, preventing any more damage to himself. Lando then got Eight Ball in a headlock.

  “Aaaaaagh!” Eight Ball cried again. “Help!”

  “Christ, Eddie, can’t you see we’re busy?!” Ralphie angrily replied from somewhere in the pile.

  “Yeah, Eddie, it’s a really bad time right now!” Billy added, clawing at Deville.

  “Aaaaaagh! Now he’s giving me a noogie!” Eight Ball yelped. “It hurts, guys!” Suddenly, however, Eight Ball realized how his predicament probably looked and how much it could affect his reputation as an action figure within GWIBE. Think, Eddie, think! OK, it’s a street fight, so anything goes….

  Lando was now trying to wrap his hands around Eight Ball’s throat. The horseman dropped his chin tightly against his upper chest, thwarting L
ando’s efforts to choke him. Eight Ball reached up with his left hand, and feeling along Lando’s chest, got hold of one nipple between his thumb and index finger and squeezed hard. “Titty twister!” he laughed.

  Lando groaned and lessened his grip, but Eight Ball wasn’t done yet. With his right hand he reached up and jammed his fingers in the notch below the Adam’s apple and the top of the rib cage and dug them down in.

  “Ack!” Lando gasped, falling over as Eight Ball pushed him off.

  “And now Eddie Kowalski goes on the offensive!” Eight Ball cried, eyes glistening with excitement. Rolling over onto his chest, he pushed off with his hands and began getting up off the ground, ready to attack. He pitched forward back down to the ground, however, when a strong hand grabbed one of his ankles and jerked it out from under him.

  “I’ve got him, Duke!” Tom Deville gasped as he struggled to hold on to Eight Ball, who was kicking at him and trying to break free.

  “Great job, Tom!” Lando exclaimed, getting up off the ground. “You’re my go-to guy!” Feeling around in his pockets to make sure that he had his wallet and truck keys, Lando then rushed out of the tent, hurdling the writhing mass of fighting men and quickly disappearing.

  Deville and Eight Ball froze, mouths agape at this development. Within seconds the remaining tangle of fighters had also quieted down.

  “Jesus Christ, it looks like a war was going on in here!” came the voice of a man named Lucius Grande as a group of men and a few women suddenly appeared near the entrance.

  “Heh heh, just a little bit of fun gone a little too far,” Tom Deville announced, thinking quickly.

  “That goddamned Lando,” Sharper muttered.

  “That’s the reward you get from your paymaster!” Wally the Preacher squawked as the fighters began getting off the ground. “There’s no loyalty between mercenaries, gentlemen….”

  “Ah, shut the fuck up!” Deville barked, shoving Wally.

  “Yaaaaaaaaaah!” Billy Bomb cried, launching himself once again. Once more, Clay Sharper found himself on his back and the other horsemen went for Deville.

  “Enough!” Grande bellowed as other men grabbed hold of the combatants. “The shit has already hit the fan with that brawl between Little Germany and Belgium Town. If that cop sees this mess, he probably will go ahead and shut GWIBE down! Got that, you idiots?!”

  The two sides exchanged a few muttered curses and surly glares, though in truth all of the fighters were glad that it was over. The Four Horsemen, playing off each other, put on a little more of a show about wanting to continue the fight in order to enhance their reputation.

  “You guys leave separately,” Grande ordered, backed up by his group. “Deville and Sharper, you guys leave first.” Without further comment, the two men did. After a minute or so had passed, Grande told the horsemen, “OK, time for you guys to split. Damn, this place is wrecked, but that’s Lando’s problem. Try to stay cool for the rest of the festival, alright guys?”

  “No guarantees,” Ralphie declared. “We’re duty-bound to fight wrongdoing and injustice wherever they’re to be found.”

  “Yeah, you’re a regular Committee for Public Safety,” Grande sneered, waving them away. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  The Four Horsemen strode away. They would need to go back to their tent and talk over these latest events, unanticipated as they were. The battered horsemen hadn’t gone far, however, when they heard, “Psssst!” Turning toward the noise, they saw Tom Deville and Clay Sharper standing around the corner of a large tent, obviously trying to stay out of sight. The four stiffened reflexively, but the weary look on Deville’s face told them that there was no threat here.

  “What’s going on?” Eight Ball asked them.

  “We’ve all got a problem,” Deville muttered.

  “Oh, what’s that?” Ralphie asked, confused.

  “Well, we’ve all got lumps on us,” Deville said, “and we need to get our stories straight about how they happened, got it? Clay?”

  “You see this swollen eye I’ve got?” Sharper asked. “Well, I didn’t get it from you, Billy. When Tom swung at you in the pile, he got me instead!”

  “And Ralphie, how did you get that split lip, that bloody mouth?” Deville continued.

  “Come to think of it, I think Wally got me instead of you!”

  “Do you see our dilemma here?” Deville asked with a sad smile.

  “Yeah, we sure do!” Eight Ball replied with a somber look. “If it gets out, we all look like a bunch of incompetents! It’ll mar our street rep.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Deville mumbled tiredly. “Anyway, here’s what we propose: Billy popped Clay in the eye, I gave Billy the bloody nose instead of him hitting it on Clay’s hard head, Ralphie’s punch gave me the swollen cheek. Ralphie, you got the split lip and bloody mouth when I elbowed you. Wally, Clay got his leg free and kicked you in the side of the face. Eddie, you got your injuries from Duke punching you on the head, not a noogie.”

  “It all sounds good, Tom, except we’ll never remember all of that!” Billy protested.

  “It’s not important,” Deville explained, trying to remain patient. “Everybody’s who ever been in a brawl knows how confused things are, and how who-punched-who gets mixed up. What is important is that nobody in our groups got hit by friendly fire, got it?”

  “Got it!” Eight Ball replied. “That’s a really ingenious solution, Tom.” He extended his hand to shake with Deville, and all of the others did so too.

  “Sorry about Duke abandoning you,” Wally remarked as they were about to part.

  “Yeah, the son of a bitch deserted us. He’s probably miles away by now,” Deville sighed.

  “Nah, he couldn’t have gotten that far away already,” Eight Ball chuckled. “You see, guys, before we came to have our talk with Duke, we took the precaution of letting the air out of his tires!”

  Their two opponents had to laugh at that. “I’m just curious, what did he tell you guys?” Deville asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Not much,” Ralphie conceded, figuring that there was nothing to be gained by being vague. “He would’ve talked, except we were interrupted by you two.”

  “I see,” Deville mumbled, nodding slightly. “Well, we might as well get going, Clay.” Deville wore a relieved look as they walked away.

  The Four Horsemen were greatly disappointed when they arrived back at their tent. Overturned chairs and pieces of rope and gags on the floor made clear that Cherie and Sonia had escaped during their absence. There was no possibility now of seeking the women’s forgiveness and the ensuing sex that the four had hoped for.

  -19-

  Cam made his way slowly up the main street of GWIBE toward his tent, dreading the impending encounter with Shauna. He really didn’t know what he was going to say to her. From her earlier reaction, she wasn’t interested in his alibi of trying to do good. She didn’t want him doing anything here period. He drew a deep breath as their tent came into sight.

  “Hey Cam!” yelled a voice from his right, causing him to turn.

  “Oh, hi Stevie,” Cam mumbled. Stevie Ream was a known, though not prominent, regular at GWIBE who ran a bookie operation here while the festival was going on apart from his brewing activities. There was nothing that the man wouldn’t lay odds on.

  “Hey, Cam, not to get personal or anything, but how’s it going with you and Shauna?”

  “None of your fuckin’ business.”

  “Easy, man, easy! You know it’s just business, right? I mean, surely you know….”

  “That the odds on my marriage blowin’ apart are against me? Yeah, Stevie, I heard.”

  “OK, then, great! Just tell me, has anything more happened with you two? You know, something that might cause me to re-adjust the odds? Of course, there’ll be something in it for you, Cam. One hand washes the other, right?”

  “Stevie, nothin’ has happened, or changed either way, OK? Now leave me alone.”

  “Hey, w
hile I’ve got you here, do you wanna lay any money down on anything?”

  “You know what, Stevie? Maybe I’ll lay down $300.”

  “Great!” Stevie cried joyfully. “On what?”

  “On my marriage,” Cam smirked. “And when I win you’ll owe me a lot more than that.”

  Stevie’s face fell, then it got an angry look. “Right, Cam. Now you’re insulting me by playing me for a jerkoff. Yeah, like any bookie would go anywhere near that one. Goodbye!” Then he stomped off down the street.

  Cam chuckled, but his merriment was short-lived as he looked toward the tent and saw Shauna staring at him from a distance. Goddamnit, why does she always appear at the very time and place when I’m dealing with something? There was nothing to be done for it, however, except go and face the music.

  “OK, I’m here,” he announced as he entered the tent.

  “OK….and?” she muttered, staring at him.

  “Well, why don’t we have the argument that is inevitable? You left me back there like I’m some kind of leper now. I really appreciated it, honey.”

  “Whatever, dear. Why were you talking to Stevie? Have you taken up a gambling habit that I don’t know about?”

  “He was sniffin’ around for info to calculate the odds on us, that’s all. But you know what, Shauna? I was ready to plunk down $300 on our marriage, because that’s how much I believe in it! What do you have to say about that, huh?”

  “I don’t whether to feel that it was sweet, or disgusting. Stevie’s a creep. He’d probably bet on his mother’s life expectancy,” she said, brushing her hair off her shoulders, which was always a sign that the tension was rising in her.

  “It’s not important,” Cam reminded her. “I want to know what it was I did that was so awful. Tell me.”

  “Oh, is your memory already starting to go? Cam, you precipitated a rumble between two beer gangs that love each other about as much as the Crips and the Bloods!”

  “C’mon, Shauna, don’t give me that shit!” he snarled. “That whole battle was gonna happen at some point anyway, whether I was involved or not!”