by Joe Corso
“That was something Trenchie.” Tarzan interjected.
“Well, Yip was surprised with how passionate I was about the danger,” Trenchie continued. “I know he caught my drift. I told him he had to be very careful. Sure enough, behind the scenes, Big Head was preparin’ to make his move. Word got back to me – one of the men loyal to me – so I convinced Yip to carry a weapon just until things sorted themselves out. I carried one too. Big Head knew that every Saturday night, after Yip closed the Corona Gentleman’s Club, that he walked to The Starlight Club to have a few drinks with his nephew Red. This one particular Saturday evenin’, I felt somethin’, call it intuition, but I felt somethin’ in the air, had an uneasy feeling, so I stepped out the back door and walked along the alley beside the club. I was hidden by the shadows. I glanced out at the street and that’s when I saw it, a car parked by a street light across the street about two stores down. There were four men in it. The street light gave off enough light for me to recognize ‘em all includin’ Big Head himself. I ran down the alley, back into the store, and told Yip what I saw. We took out our guns and made sure they were hot. Then we went out the back door and snuck up the alley, keeping in the shadows. We stepped out of the shadows, careful not to be seen, and walked away from the car in the opposite direction. When we were far enough from the club, we crossed the street and walked back toward the car, intendin’ to kill all of ‘em. Yip told me to watch his back while he took care of the ‘four traitors’ as he called ‘em. I didn’t like it, but I did as he wanted and watched him while he walked to their car. The men were so busy concentratin’ on the club that they didn’t see Yip raise up his gun and fire. Shots shattered the passenger window and Yip opened the door to make sure that all of ‘em were dead, especially Big Head. He found him in the back seat, but there were only three men total, dead in the car. I had counted four, was positive that there were four, but the fourth guy wasn’t there. Yip was busy checkin’ out the car when I spotted him, spotted another guy runnin’ towards Yip with a gun in his hand. I hollered to Yip to watch out but he couldn’t hear me with his head in the car. I fired at the guy, hittin’ him in the shoulder and spinnin’ him in a semicircle, but on the turn, he fired back – hit me with two lucky shots – knocked the wind out of me. Felt like I was hit with a sledgehammer. I collapsed to the floor, unable to move. Yip saw the whole thing, but before he could help me, he had to finish off the fourth man. The guy saw Yip walkin’ toward him. He tried to lift his gun but Yip got him with a shot to the head before he could get off a round. Yip started runnin’ toward me to help me, but I heard sirens comin’ closer – told him to beat it before the cops got there. ‘I’ll be all right.’ I told him, ‘There’s no sense in both of us gettin’ caught, so get out of here now!’ I insisted. Yip knew I was right, so he took off. When the cops got there, they found three dead men in a car and me and this other guy, shot up, layin’ dead in the street. I was taken to the hospital and treated for two gunshot wounds. When I recovered, I was taken into custody and questioned by the police. An autopsy had already been done and the bullets taken from the bodies didn’t match the bullets from my gun, so they knew there was a second shooter. They tried to get me to talk. They offered me a deal. If I would tell ‘em who the other shooter was, I would get a much lighter sentence and maybe a pass, but I wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t give up Yip. When I went to trial, they found me guilty and gave me ten years in the Q – San Quentin. That’s it. That’s my story.”
Tarzan shook his head. “Wow, you could have walked if you gave Yip up. You did the right thing though and I’m sure Yip appreciated that. I would have done the same thing in your place - because there’s nothing more I hate than a bum who’d rat on his friends.”
“I know . . . but I didn’t. He’s my friend. I don’t rat on friends.”
chapter eight
Swifty picked up the phone on the first ring. “Yeah Henri . . . sure. Come on over. We’re all set to go. Just honk the horn when you get here and we’ll come out.” It was Henri’s little brother’s special day.
Swifty and Gonzo were out the door as soon as they heard the horn beep. Henri was driving a late model Chrysler which was a few years old, but Henri kept it looking brand new. The day was clear and the drive upstate was pleasant. They arrived at the Hackley School in under two hours. The parking lots were full. School monitors handled the logistics of parking by guiding drivers with hand signals, showing them where to park on the crowded streets. And since the school buildings were situated on a series of hills, their cars were parked with the front pointing down a steep hill. They all walked uphill a short distance and followed signs that lead to a large tent where graduation ceremonies were about to take place. Most of the seats were taken by elderly men and women, representing old money, handed down from generation to generation. The graduates entered the tent and were led single file to their seats with girls sitting on the left and boys on the right, filling the first eight rows of seats in front of the stage. They sat through a series of boring speeches, given by both staff and students that took what seemed an interminable amount of time. The exception was the keynote speaker, given by a John A Morgenstein, an old alumnus, who had become a successful lawyer and later had gone on to become Vice–President and Chief Council to Columbia Pictures. He was impressive, very relaxed with his audience. His speech, even though long, was interesting – laced with humor. He seemed down–to–earth and approachable. Swifty decided to let him know how much he enjoyed his address and told Gonzo that he was going to try to speak with the man outside.
“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Gonzo said. “It’ll give Henri and his brother some time to be alone. They probably have a lot of things they want to talk about privately.”
Henri pointed to a gangly young man sitting in the second row who was busy scanning the crowds, looking for his big brother. He spotted Henri. “There,” Henri said as he pointed,” there’s Jorge, my brother.” A broad smile crossed Jorge’s face. He was excited that his brother was there to see him graduate from high school with honors no less. Henri looked at Swifty and said, “Red better get us some big money fights, fast, because I have to have enough money to send my little bro to college, to Harvard.” At that moment, Swifty spotted Morgenstein leaving with his family. His youngest daughter was in cap and gown, indicating that she had been in the graduating class. Now that it was over, the speaker appeared anxious to leave. Swifty tapped Gonzo on the arm and pointed to Mr. Morgenstein. “Come on, let’s go,” he said.
The boys looked around and searched for the man in the crowded reception room. They spotted him by an exit, saying a brief goodbye to some friends on his way out. The boxers were catching up fast when without warning two men stepped in front of Mr. Morgenstein as he approached his car. One of them put his hands on him in a menacing manner while the other said something to his wife. She looked frightened and raised her hand to her face as if to hide from him. She instinctively reached out to pull her daughters close as if to protect them. The boys ran over to get a closer look. One of the men had Mr. Morgenstein by his jacket collar. They weren’t close enough to hear what he was saying but what he was doing to him was enough. Swifty stepped in between them.
“Are these men bothering you?” Swifty asked. Morgenstein nodded yes.
Swifty turned to the big guy and told him to back off. The guy just looked at Swifty and laughed.
“If I don’t, now whatta you gonna do?” the man said sarcastically.
“I don’t have to tell anyone what I’m gonna do,” Swifty smarted back.
The thug turned to Morgenstein and said, “This won’t take long, then we’ll finish our little talk.” Swifty saw it coming – a sucker right hand amateurishly thrown out of left field. Swifty ducked it easily. Gonzo was watching, ready at any time to jump in, but he knew Swifty could handle it. This guy had no idea who he was up against – two boxers, two good friends with a bond of having served their country together – a bond that no one could understand
– brother to brother, like flesh and blood.
Swifty slammed his right fist hard and deep into the guy’s abdomen. The guy doubled over trying to catch his breath and when he did, Swifty hit him again with a combination of fast and furious punches. The guy folded like an accordion. It was obvious that the guy wasn’t in shape at all. It was all a little too easy until his partner came at Swifty from behind. That’s when Gonzo stepped in, clipping him with a hard right to the temple. He caved. And it was over that fast.
“Are you all right?” Swifty asked Morgenstein.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I’m fine but what about you? Where’d you boys come from?”
Swifty smiled sheepishly. “I heard your speech and I wanted to catch up to you to tell you how much I enjoyed it,” Swifty answered.
Morgenstein was at a loss for words but then added, “You men must be trained in some sort of martial arts discipline the way you handled yourselves.”
Swifty laughed and said, “No, me and Gonzo are professional prize fighters and we came here with a buddy of ours, another fighter, for his brother’s graduation. We left them alone so they could have some time together and we came over here to speak with you.”
“I’m sure glad you did. Those men have been stalking my family and me, but I didn’t think they would bother me here. I guess I was wrong about that. Let me introduce you to my wife, Lydia, and my daughters, June and Gloria. Gloria just graduated and we’re having a party at our home later this afternoon. We’d be honored to have you join us. Mr.? I’m sorry, what did you say your names were?
“This big lug here is Gonzo, Henri you’ll meet later, and I’m Swifty. I’d like to bring my buddy Henri and his brother with us if that’s all right with you.”
“Absolutely. All of you can come. To be honest, I’d feel much better having you boys with us at the party. Is your friend a prize fighter too?” he asked. Swifty laughed.
“Yeah, he sure is.”
Morgenstein noticed a slight smile and asked, “Did I miss something here?”
Swifty laughed again and added, “Well, Henri is not only a prize fighter but him and I fought each other. The man is tough.” As Swifty was talking, Morgenstein noticed his daughter June listening intently to Swifty, her eyes glistening. She seemed captivated by the boxer who braved standing up to those guys.
At that moment, the guy on the ground stirred. Swifty bent down, reached into the man’s jacket and removed his wallet just as he was trying to stand back up. He nodded toward the other guy and told Gonzo, “Get his wallet, too, and gimme his license. Let’s see who these guys are. And don’t take any chances. Check to see if they’re wearing ankle guns.” Gonzo searched both men. He found nothing on them but their wallets. Swifty asked them where their car was parked and one man pointed down the street.
“Do you have a minute Mr. Morgenstein?” Swifty asked.
“Yes. Why?”
“I want to check their car before you leave. It wouldn’t do if they had more weapons hidden somewhere in there. This’ll only take a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Swifty took the first guy by his arm while Gonzo escorted the second man. When they arrived at the car, Swifty gave it a thorough search while Gonzo watched the still aching, groaning men.
“I found two automatics in the trunk but the car’s clean now so let ‘em go.”
When the men got into their car, one turned to Swifty and said, “This ain’t over. We’ll find you . . . and when we do, you’ll pay for this.”
Swifty laughed and said, “Be careful what you wish for ‘cause you’re liable to get it. Take my advice – don’t come back. Could be bad for your health.”
The boys watched the car speed away and waited until they lost sight of it as it made a turn at the bottom of the hill. Swifty put the guns under his belt, in the nape of his back, with his jacket hiding them. They walked back to the Morgenstein’s. They were glad to see that Henri and his brother had made their way to the front of the room. The Velasquez’ brothers had been looking for Gonzo and Swifty. Swifty reached under his jacket and pulled the two guns out to show Morgenstein. He put them back, making sure to cover them with his jacket.
“It’s a good thing you thought to check their car,” Morgenstein said while writing his address on the back of his business card which he then handed to Swifty. “Come over whenever you like. We’re hosting an after–graduation party.” The boys liked that idea and decided to leave for the party as soon as Jorge returned from storing his cap and gown and diploma in his dorm room.
Henri had told Gonzo and Swifty that Hackley was a prestigious boarding school and that they’d need to be dressed nicely. They were glad they had worn their suits. Everyone there was dressed to the nines and at the party, the boys felt right at ease. Morgenstein spotted them, broke away to greet them, and insisted that the three not leave the event before he could free up some time to spend with them. Meanwhile, the boxers ate a little, drank a little, and mostly talked among themselves. Swifty, at one point, walked over to the bar to refresh his drink. As he did, he heard, “Just Pepsi?” and turned to see a smiling June, Morrgenstein’s daughter. “Will you be seeing my father anytime soon?”
“Yeah,” Swifty replied. “He wants to talk to us in a little while.”
“No, I don’t mean that,” June added. “I mean, like tomorrow or during the week.”
“Well, I don’t think so,” Swifty answered rather puzzled. “There’s no reason for me to.” Swifty hadn’t noticed that June had been watching him from the other side of the room. She had patiently waited for her opportunity. And then he saw it. Swifty noticed the look, that feline predatory look all over her face and quickly added . . . “Or is there?” She was beautiful – long auburn hair, green eyes, these great curves, but he found himself in a convincing argument with his head saying ‘don’t get involved – this babe is way out of your league.’
“I couldn’t believe how you confronted that brute,” June said. “You didn’t seem the least bit afraid.”
“Well . . . I wasn’t really that scared of him but you know who really scares me?” he asked conspiratorially. Her eyes lit up.
“Tell me. Who scares you?”
“You see that guy I was talking to?”
“Henri?”
“Yep. He scares me to death.” And he laughed a sweet laugh. His words charmed her.
“Oh really? Why am I not buying that?”
“Well, he does,” Swifty responded.
“Well, now,” June continued, “I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone quite like you. You knock out a guy like without batting an eye and then point to a smiling face and tell me he scares you? So, besides being afraid of Henri, tell me about yourself,” she teased.
“Nope. Nothin’ to tell,” he said as he smiled, all the while taking note of her face, her lips, her hair.
She tilted her head and smiled. “Let me rephrase that. I never met guys like the three of you. Are you serious? Henri scares you to death?”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious. I fought him three times and I couldn’t beat him.”
“Oooh. So that’s why you’re afraid of him? Because he beat you three times.”
“No, no. He didn’t beat me. We fought three times . . . to a draw. Henri is the best fighter I ever fought.” He had her then. She couldn’t get enough of him.
“How many fights have you had?”
“Twenty–eight fights, no losses. My manager expects the three of us to win championship belts someday.
June smiled and said, “Pretty high goal, don’t ya think?”
“Not really,” Swifty replied. June’s mind was swimming. Talking with him exhilarated her.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Twenty–five.”
“When did you have your last fight?”
“My last fight? That was two years ago and it was with Henri.” She was a little confused.
“Two years? Why so long between fights?” She was unabashed
ly firing questions, one after another.
“Because I spent the last two years boxin’ for the army in the Far East. Let me back up a little ‘cause I’m not makin’ myself clear. When I say I didn’t fight for two years, I mean professionally. The three of us fought in the army as amateurs and together we won the Far East Army Boxin’ Championship, but my last professional fight was two years ago.”
“Can I come and watch your next fight?” June asked.
“Sure, if your father lets you.”
“Wait a minute. Wait just one minute. I’m twenty–two years old. I adore my Dad but I’m a little too old for that now. If I want to come to see you fight, I’ll come see you fight.” She changed the subject and shot off another question.
“How’d you get the name Swifty? That’s not your given name is it?” Swifty laughed. He enjoyed her questions.
“Slow down a minute,” he laughed. “Where are all these questions coming from? Okay – I’m called Swifty because I knock people out – swiftly, that’s why.”