Smut Central

by Brandon McCalla

  Nancy saw Markus hop inside the car across the street. She saw Gary walking down the block to his car parked on the corner.

  “Wait,” she shouted, jogging toward Gary.

  “Need a lift, Nancy?” He asked.

  “No, I need a few explanations.”

  “What needs to be explained? I thought—”

  “You said something about a past case,” Nancy said, cutting him off. “A case involving children being hypnotized…?”

  “Yeah and…”

  “You also said you think you know who the man in Markus’ flashbacks is. How do you know all of this?”

  “I did say those things, didn’t I?” Zimmerman said, jostling in his pockets for car keys.

  “Don’t play games with me. I know you far too well. You are walking way too straight for a man who just drank half a bottle of liquor.”

  “You really like this Markus guy?” He asked.

  Nancy’s eyes opened wide and Zimmerman laughed. He opened the driver’s side door.

  “When I had just made detective back in the mid eighties, I was on the missing persons division. They couldn’t make heads or tails out of most of the cases. Hundreds were kids reported missing daily. One particular missing person’s case hit the media big. We jumped on it with urgency. Nothing came up that led us to the missing child. But the investigations led my partner and me to an orphanage. The orphanage boarded over two dozen children, six being special children who were reported missing for about two years. They all were about the same age, ten or twelve, boys and girls. The special ones did not recollect who they were or how they got to the orphanage.”

  “That’s just crazy,” Nancy Adler said.

  The rain slowly turned into a downpour. Nancy didn’t seem to notice. “What do you mean by special? Do you mean mentally challenged.”

  “I suppose so. But not the way you think. The six special boys and girls were apparently sexually molested, sodomized and worse. They had no knowledge of the events taking place. The whole investigation was crazy. We were tipped off by an anonymous phone call that led us to this orphanage in a remote part of Long Island.”

  “I’m not getting the gist of all of this, the connection—”

  “The orphanage’s staff was not present when we went to investigate. Only the children were there. They had been in the house for days without any supervision. The faculty mysteriously vanished. The NYPD wanted to turn the case over to the feds, but I couldn’t let things go. Something inside the orphanage disturbed me more than the missing faculty and abandoned children.”

  “What?” Nancy asked eagerly.

  “A pocket watch,” he laughed. “With the initials F.R.R engraved on it. One of the special children was carrying it. But the kid didn’t know who he was, much less where he acquired the watch. There was no additional DNA on the watch, no other fingerprints. All of the special ones were minority and black and all of them couldn’t be identified. There were no records of their existence. The other children were from low income families, and parents with substance abuse issues. We found child abuse cases, and kids given up for adoption since birth, others reported as runaways. The FBI took over the investigation because of the six special children.”

  “I’m so lost, Gary.”

  “And so were we. The special children’s psyches had been tampered with. I gathered this the moment I began talking to them. It was only a theory and no one wanted to go there with me. Even my partner thought I was crazy. The psychiatrists assigned to the case, wrote it off as amnesia due to their specific traumatic ordeals. I had never heard of a case of mass amnesia in my life. And beyond the ordeal all six of these kids had no knowledge of anything other than the orphanage. It was like their lives began there. Just like Markus.” He laughed. “It’s funny. They removed me from the case because I was getting too emotionally involved. Fritz Roy Randleman is a childhood hero of mine. He’s the reason for my interest in hypnosis, the mystical arts and my card tricks.”

  “Fritz Roy Randleman…? The name is familiar,” she uttered with confusion. “The initials on the watch, he was the man with the scar wasn’t he?”

  “I believe so. Because of this illusion he did with flies, he’s known as, Lord of the Flies. It’s a very impressive trick. No one knows how he does it. No one knows how he did a lot of the tricks. Randleman was very amazing. Some say he’s a genuine warlock, a master of the black art. Markus’s dream consisted of flies and the six special kids spoke of flies and were very frightened of them. I know it sounds weird, but what isn’t weird about Markus. And the fact of the matter is this, after all of these years, the investigation left us just as clueless as the children we rescued. None of the faculty at the orphanage could be found and those we identified wound up dead once we got a positive lead on their whereabouts.”

  “So strange…” she uttered as the rain came.

  “The orphanage did exist. And those children’s minds were wiped clean. Nancy, you tossed something at me that’s been eating me to the bone for years. Randleman has been missing for years. It’s like he vanished from the face of the earth. One moment he was the biggest thing since David Copperfield, the next he disappeared without a trace. All of the case’s records went with the FBI. I heard from a source that they eventually got destroyed,” Zimmerman took a deep breath before he hopped into the driver’s side. “Get in, let me drive you home.”

  “I will if you promise to tell me some more,” Nancy said.

  Her eyes were dancing with curiosity as she hastily walked over to the passenger side. She hurriedly opened the door, and got in.

  Markus couldn’t help but be surprised when he saw who was in the back seat of Sparks’s vehicle. He eyed Entice suspiciously as she casually waved at him.

  “What’s she doing here?” Markus asked.

  “What does it look like she’s doing? She’s sitting in the backseat of my car.”

  After checking his rearview and side mirrors, Sparks drove off. He merged into traffic, glanced at Markus before speaking.

  “I did some asking around in the hood and I’m positive that it’s Cali. He’s the one fucking around with your whip. We can handle him tonight. I know where he is,” Spark said, looking at Markus.

  “Where…?” he uttered before he came to his senses and said. “Handle what? How are we gonna handle him?”

  Sparks nudged his jaw toward the glove compartment while he drove. Markus figured he wanted him to look in it. He opened it.

  “Fuck!” he exclaimed. There was a gun in the glove compartment. “What are we gonna do with that?”

  “Not we, you, nigga,” Sparks said with a bit of heat. “I’m your manager, not your bodyguard, or some sort of stooge.”

  Sparks nodded his head reassuringly. Markus grimaced. He still wasn’t sold on the management idea. He thought of it as a joke with a terrible punch line. Markus stared at Sparks and looked at the gun in the glove compartment. It suddenly dawned on him that Sparks wasn’t joking.

  “That nigga slashed your tires twice. And he broke your windows. Cali’s been following you around like some motherfucking stalker, homey.”

  Markus was about to respond, but Cali beat him to it.

  “It’s only gonna get uglier. Cali’s a crazy dude, but he is also bitch ass… Always doing dirt with a bunch of other niggas round him… Or he gets other niggas to do shit for him. You gotta set it on his ass. He’s the sort of dude who won’t understand talking. You gotta get at him like that.”

  “Get at him like how? Shoot him; kill him?” Markus asked, heatedly.

  Sparks laughed, “Nah, nigga. I know you’re a lover, not a fighter. Besides that you’re my new commodity and my black ass wouldn’t want to see your ass physically harmed. You gotta do something. Scare the nigga, or it’s gonna only get worse. Pistol-whip his ass, fire off a few… Have his ass running. I don’t know nigga. You just gotta do something. How many more times your black ass gonna get your car fixed, huh?”

  “There’s m
ore to this, Markus. You’ll be better off seeing shit with your own eyes. Sparks knows what he’s talking about,” Entice added.

  Markus turned around glaring. He looked at her for a few beats before he finally asked, “What the fuck do you know about all this?”

  “It’s about to go down tonight. I know that for sure,” Entice answered.

  Sparks laughed and the grimace on Markus’s face tightened. He was quite sure Entice was right. Something probably was going down tonight. Markus scratched his bald head because he wasn’t sure what.

  20

  They drove to Jingling Babes. Markus figured he shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was. He knew whatever was going down tonight, involved Tanisha. Questions came to his mind but Markus stifled them. He said nothing. He already knew. Cali was in Jingling Babes.

  Pouring rain had calmed to drizzling as Sparks drove them to the destination then began pouring rain again. The precipitation worsened. Sparks complained because he recently had the car washed. He found a place to park and pulled in, still complaining he shut the engine off and took the keys out of the ignition. They all hopped out the car. Markus neglected to take the pistol out the glove compartment but while they were walking, Sparks nudged him with an elbow and slipped the gun into one of his jacket pockets.

  “I don’t want it,” Markus said sternly. “I’m not gonna pistol whip or shoot Cali or anybody else. I got enough problems. If you get my meaning…?”

  “Cool,” Sparks said. “You know the owner of this club, don’t you?”

  Markus nodded.

  “Well then, you can get the gun inside the club for me. Call the owner and have him meet us outside so we can walk in without being searched.”

  “Shit!” Markus exclaimed. “You have this all planned out, don’t you?”

  “Yup…!” Sparks answered. “You want your car going to the shop two or three times a week for the rest of your life?”

  “Maybe I should tell the authorities…” Markus began.

  “Your black ass ain’t gonna tell the cops, like you some little bitch ass?” Sparks interjected.

  A long cold stare followed Sparks’s scalding words. Markus had the meanest look he could muster.

  “Don’t call a nigga with a gun in his pocket a little bitch ass, it ain’t healthy. If you get my meaning…?”

  “Now that’s what the fuck I wanna hear. Now you’re talking my language.”

  “Call the owner,” Entice urged.

  “Why do you wanna be around all this bullshit? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Markus asked, giving her a mean look.

  “To answer your first question,” Entice said with sass. “I’m from Queensbridge,” she mentioned her neighborhood like it was self explanatory. “As for me having anything better to do, I guess not.”

  “I love this dame,” Sparks said, tossing an arm around Entice’s waist.

  Markus saw her move into his body. Sparks welcomed the embrace. Markus smiled.

  “I love my clients. I’m a hand’s on type manager,” Sparks worded.

  Markus grimaced at his words as he called the owner of Jingling Babes. They were already at the entrance of the club. Markus had a gun in his pocket. The rain was coming down. There was no turning back.

  Marty, the owner of the club answered on the third ring. Markus heard the same booty shaking music within his phone emanating out of the entrance of the club. This told him Marty was inside the club.

  “Hey Marty, can you hear me?” Markus asked.

  “I can hear you,” he yelled above all the bass in the music. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Markus, I’m outside.”

  “Markus…?” He asked, sounding confused. “I don’t know a Markus.”

  “You know Mr. Excitement, right? Markus is Mr. Excitement. Come outside. I’m outside.”

  The phone connection was abruptly severed. Markus flipped his phone shut. It was raining and he wasn’t sure if Marty hung up or the connection got severed. They were disconnected in any event and he wasn’t going to stand outside in the rain any longer.

  “I think Marty hung up on me. I ain’t gonna stand in front of this club in the rain and catch the flu or pneumonia,” Markus said, looking at Entice and Sparks. “Her weave looks like it’s about to unravel.”

  “This ain’t no weave,” Entice snapped. “This rain is just not good for my perm.”

  “You two are both a bunch of bitches,” Sparks worded giving both of them narrow eyes.

  He was in the middle of licking a cigar. Markus laughed. He was rolling up in the middle of what was beginning to turn into a heavy shower.

  “Why did he hang up on your black ass?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we got disconnected.”

  They stood in the ever increasing rain, debating the issue. Two bouncers at the entrance frisked a couple of patrons. Marty walked out a side entrance.

  “Hey Mr. Excitement,” he greeted, urging them over with a wave.

  He stood at the threshold of the side entrance waving. A canopy above him kept the rain off. Entice broke out in a dash toward the side door, Sparks and Markus followed suit.

  Marty greeted Mr. Excitement with a hearty hug, and gave Entice and Sparks the once over. He kept his eyes locked on Entice. She was nice to look at.

  “What brings you here Mr. Excitement?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” Markus answered with honesty.

  “Oh,” the club owner muttered. “I haven’t seen you in half a year maybe? What have you been up to? Don’t tell me, I know all about your movies and how you’re making big things happen. Come inside man, it’s raining cats and dogs.”

  “It’s raining pussies and bitches,” Entice said.

  They all laughed and walked into the club. Marty laughed louder than anyone else. He was a jovial middle aged Jew. He led them through a corridor of many doors to the left and right. They went by doors that showed rooms full of strippers, dressing rooms. They passed by the lockers, huge mirrors, and half naked women standing. Some were bent over, stretching. Others sat on top of tables and chairs with legs crossed, or sprawling, legs wide opened, showing camel toe and clitoris piercings. Some of the dancers were wearing things on that were as thin as dental floss. Others accessorized to tantalize a man’s fetish preference, nursing uniforms, Swedish maid attire, Dominatrix and leather outfits.

  Sparks stopped and looked into one particular room where two strippers were getting dressed. He stared, licking his lips. They were two hot looking pieces of flesh. They saw him, and smiled. Entice grabbed him roughly by an ear, dragging him along.

  “Hey, you never know. Those hos might be looking for management,” Sparks worded sheepishly.

  “They look like they’re looking for pimps. Come on,” Entice sassed.

  Once they were inside Marty’s office, Sparks finished rolling his blunt. While Markus, Sparks and Entice puffed and passed the smoldering weed, Marty told them about his dilemma.

  “This guy Cali has completely taken over my operation. You know I try to run a respectable place here. No trouble, no police, and definitely no prostitution. Now every day the police show up. They made a full raid two weeks ago. I’ve never been raided before. I got a couple of police officers coming in sometimes. One wants to close me down for good, the other shakes me down for cash and take liberties with the girls. Cali has a lot of them giving blow jobs and fucking in the VIP. My whole business has turned into a whorehouse. And I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Did you tell the cops?” Markus asked.

  He heard Sparks’s moan but he didn’t look at him or say anything. He waited for Marty’s answer.

  “I want to tell the police, but I’m scared to go to them. Sometimes you can’t tell a cop from a criminal. It seems like everyone is down with it. Cali is a terrible man. I’m just an old Jew who owns a strip joint. At first I had to deal with the Italians, but I was young then that’s over and done with. The mob wasn’t as much trouble. Cali is different. H
e roughs me up and he’s always with three or four mean looking guys. One of them pulled a gun out on me. He was trying to force one of the girls to do things. I said something to him and he smacked me with the gun. She left and never came back. She was one of my best girls. Excitement, Tanisha’s here and she’s running right along with him. I think Cali is her pimp. I think all the girls are under him now.”

  “It seems like Cali is straight pimpin’ the entire Jingling Babes,” Entice told no one in particular.

  “I came here to talk to Cali. It seems like we’re both not happy with him,” Markus said to Marty.

  While Markus was talking he felt Sparks going inside his jacket pocket. He took the pistol out. Marty saw the gun.

  “No, no, no…” He whined, “I don’t want anymore trouble in here. I don’t want any problems.”

  “You already gotta ass load of problems,” Sparks snapped. He coughed then passed the blunt to Entice. “Consider us your problem solvers. Just stay back here where it’s safe. Where is Cali?”

  “He’s usually in the observation room,” Marty told Sparks.

  “Observation room, what the fuck is that?” Sparks asked.

  “A small room with a trick mirror where you can see what goes on in the main VIP lounge. Sometimes he has a video camera. He films. He told me he was making a documentary or something.”

  Entice barked out a laugh. “More like a porno.”

  “Cali is a very enterprising fella. Let’s see if he can sell a DVD of me pistol whipping his black ass,” Sparks snapped. He turned to Markus. “Let’s case the place then go to this observation room and have our little talk with him.”

  “I don’t know,” Markus said with uncertainty.

  “What is there to know? Besides, this guy said Cali is pimpin’ Tanisha. Don’t you wanna save her Captain?”

  “I ain’t Captain save a Ho,” Markus snapped at Sparks.

  “Maybe not, but you’ve been fucking with a ho… You told me you care about her,” Sparks reminded Markus.