“He may wind up being our only safety line if this deal goes Hindenburg on us,” Sam said.
“You mean that, or you just hung up on the guy?”
“What?”
“Don’t play innocent, Sam. If you bone or want to bone some cat, it’s a clear sign they are wrong.”
“Not always.”
“Pretty much always. We could use you as a schmuck dowser.”
Sam started to argue then thought better of it. “So, little brother, let’s say you’re right. What do we do? He’s a fed.”
“And thanks to you he knows we’re planning to take Breeze down. We either use him or have Jo Jo drop him in the mighty Pacific. Me, I’m favoring plan B. You?”
“Breeze owns the local cops,” Sam said.
“So you’ve said, more than once.”
“Jacob, you need to let me off the hook and stop being such a dick.”
“No, I actually don’t. Get back to your point, local cops et cetera.”
“If we get busted we may need our own cop, a fed, to clear our names.”
“You sure . . . wait, that’s not half bad.”
“What’s not?”
“My plan.” Jacob thought a moment, then added, “You’re going to need to call Maurizio Binasco.”
• • •
Rapunzel’s parking lot was half empty when Sam pulled in. Jo Jo sat in the passenger seat. “Remember, you keep quiet and look imposing,” Sam told him.
“And if these punks want to fuck us up?”
“Then you go all mob thug on their asses.”
Big Bob stood leaning by the door. The Winchester 30/30 looked small cradled in his huge arms. He stepped in front of Sam and Jo Jo. “Sam, you know I got orders to shoot you on sight.”
“Hi Bob, you’re looking . . . big.”
“Who’s he?” Big Bob nodded to Jo Jo.
Jo Jo moved up into the hillbilly’s face. Neither man was used to being confronted by someone their own size. Jo Jo smashed his forehead down on Big Bob’s nose, grabbed the Winchester and threw it skidding across the parking lot. Big Bob stumbled back but didn’t go down. Blood ran down his face. He smiled, curling his hands into fists. Sam stepped between the two giants. Putting a palm on each, she tried to push them apart. It was like trying to move blocks of granite.
“Bob, this is Jo Jo. He works for the Binasco family. Breeze is going to be really pissed off if you fuck him up. Trust me on that.”
Big Bob cocked his fist back.
“No shit, Bob, Binasco family,” Sam said in a calm, almost friendly voice.
Big Bob slowly relaxed his arms and let them hang at his side. “Wait here. Lots of guns inside. Surprise Breeze and this gets bloody.”
“No one wants that,” Sam said.
As Big Bob turned to go, Jo Jo spoke under his breath. “Pussy.”
Big Bob spun, ready to swing.
“Bob?” Sam said.
“All right, all right. But Breeze gives me the go ahead, I take this city boy apart.”
“Leccami il culo.”
“What the rat fuck does that mean? Huh?”
Jo Jo said nothing. His eyes were dead cold.
Big Bob stared back, muscles and veins popping from restraining his rage. “What did you say?”
“He said, get your ass inside before I lose my shit and tell Breeze you make the crib girls give you and your trucker buddies free tug jobs.”
Big Bob twitched to that. “How you know that?”
“Girl talk. Jump now.”
“OK, but no more wop talk. We speak American here. Got it?”
“He gets it.” Finally Big Bob let Sam push him back. After he was gone through the door, Sam turned back to Jo Jo. “What did you say to him? I have to know if it was worth us almost dying.”
“Lick my ass.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not you. I told that redneck to lick my ass.”
Sam almost smiled, almost said yeah that was worth it. Instead she kept an indifferent tone. “You fucking nuts, is that it, big man?”
“Guy’s a punk. I don’t like being pushed around.”
“You a sensitive big poofta?”
“No, I . . . he just rubbed me wrong.”
“Here on in, no one else gets hurt. You want me to tell Maurizio you, um, queered the deal?”
“That wouldn’t be good for any of us.”
“No, it would not. No more provoking the natives?” Sam stuck out her hand. Before Jo Jo could shake it Big Bob stepped out of the club. He was pressing a bar towel to his bloody nose. He told them Breeze was in his booth. He said he needed to search them. Sam raised her arms and let Big Bob do a quick pat down. That he copped a feel didn’t surprise her. When he turned to pat down Jo Jo, things got tense again.
“I have a .357 magnum under my arm, a stiletto in my sock, a sap in my left jacket pocket, and a Walther .380 holstered to the back of my belt. Touch me and you get to see them all real close,” Jo Jo said.
“This screwhead for real, Sam?”
“Real as a bullet in the brain, Bob. I wouldn’t touch him.”
Big Bob let out a long sigh. “I’ll be back.” He went into the strip club. They could hear the Allman Brothers Band’s “Ramblin’ Man” playing inside. Big Bob came back out the door. “OK, here’s the deal. We got plenty of guns in there. You even fart too fast they will rain down on you.”
“I can live with that,” Jo Jo said.
“Or die, your choice.” Pushing open the door, Big Bob stood back and let them enter.
Blond and freckled Angie was prancing around the stage. There were a few actual customers sitting at the rail. Rough-looking hillbillies occupied most of the shabby club. Sardine and Cracker cleared out of Breeze’s booth. Breeze was dressed in black leather jeans, a white silk tee shirt and a half jacket. He got up and made a show of kissing Sam’s hand.
“You look good, Sam, real good,” Breeze said.
“Yeah? Not near as dead as you planned, right?”
“Ancient history, girl. Sit.”
Sam sat, as did Breeze. Jo Jo stood, his back to them, scanning the room. He was ready to reach for his piece if needed.
“Drink?” Breeze asked.
“I don’t think so. This ain’t that kinda visit.”
“Yeah, what kinda visit is this?”
“Kind that will either get you rich or get you killed.”
“Sam, look around. You really want to threaten me?”
Sam shook out a Marlboro, calmly tapped the filter on the table, then stuck it in her mouth and looked at Breeze. He looked at her, smiled and flicked open his Zippo.
“You got some stones, girl.”
“Funny, same thing Maurizio Binasco said about you. He also said you were dead meat.”
“And yet, here I sit, handsome as ever.”
“True. Question is . . .” Sam took a drag, then blew smoke into the room. “Question is, and this is important, do you want to go to war with the Italians?”
“The big guy is here to prove you speak for Binasco, right? What am I supposed to do, get all quivery and hand over a bag of cash? You really think that will happen?”
“It would be the simplest way.”
“I’m a complex guy. How about this? What I could do, and this is a real option, I could chop you and the jolly giant into little chunks and send you back to the greaseball. Up here, I am the biggest swinging dick. So fuck Binasco where he breathes.”
“Breeze, you are emperor up here, no doubt. I think I found a way we all walk away alive.”
“Spill. And hurry, I’m getting bored with this crap.”
“I convince Maurizio Binasco the money is gone—”
“That’s true, or might as well be.”
“—then instead of killing me and you and everyone we know, I tell him that you have something he could use. Pot. Your sinsemilla, in fact. If it is as good as you say, he’ll take a hundred and fifty keys and call it even.”
“One fifty!” Breeze slammed his hand onto the table, spilling his bourbon. “Get the fuck out of my face.”
“Fair price.” Sam dropped her cigarette butt in the spilled drink, where it sputtered out.
“Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. He wants to buy my product with money I already have? Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit. It’s a way to stay alive and, as an added inducement, Breeze, he could become your preeminent customer. Wanna break into the San Francisco market? The Binasco family opens that door.”
“Small carrot and zero stick, far as I can see. It was good seeing you, Sam. Sorry about what comes next.” He motioned for Sardine to join them.
“Breeze, mouth to God, you are going to regret this. Wanna know why?”
“Not really.” Breeze looked from her to Sardine. “Cousin, looks like the lady and this gentleman are—”
Jo Jo’s first punch was an uppercut, landing under Sardine’s jaw. The power of the blow lifted the hillbilly into the air and sent him tumbling back over a nearby table.
Cracker and six of his walleyed cousins stepped off from the bar, all reaching for pieces.
Sam reached up under the back of Jo Jo’s blazer and pulled his Walther.
Big Bob ran across the room, head down like an angry bull, aiming straight at Jo Jo.
Sam took aim at Breeze’s head.
Breeze put his hands in front of his face, shielding himself.
“Fucking flinch,” Sam yelled. “Any of you motherfuckers fucking flinch and the boss man dies!”
Big Bob was moving too fast to stop his bulk from slamming into Jo Jo. Both men went down, shattering the corner of the booth. Breeze jumped up, scurrying away from Sam.
The gun in Sam’s hand popped and spit a thin line of flame into the dark room.
Breeze froze, then realized she’d missed.
Sam fired, missed Breeze again. The third slug caught him in the thigh. He went down clutching his leg.
The boys at the bar all had guns out.
Sam took aim at Breeze’s chest. “Tell your mutants to drop ’em or you’re having dinner in hell.” She had to shout to be heard over “If You Wanna Get to Heaven” by Ozark Mountain Daredevils. A redhead with huge tits and a skinny waist stood frozen on the stage. “Shut that fucking noise off or I kill him on principle.” The needle scratched across the tracks and the room went silent, save Breeze’s quiet whimpering.
“You fucking shot me.”
“Next one is a killer. Ready to die, Breeze?”
“No. Boys, put your guns on the bar.” The hillbilly hit squad didn’t move. They kept their guns trained on Sam.
“‘What we have here is a failure to communicate,’” Jacob said. He and Valentina stood just inside the door. Their M16s swept the boys at the bar.
Still on the floor, Sardine held an old single-action Colt. He started to turn his gun on the new arrivals.
“Do it,” Valentina said, targeting him. “Let’s get this bloodbath started.”
“Breeze, talk to them,” Sam said. “This shit is about to become irreversibly fucked.”
Breeze used a chair to pull himself up until he was standing. “Boys, put that shit down.”
“That crazy bitch will shoot me,” Sardine said, eyes locked on Valentina.
“Or I will,” Breeze said. “Do it now or incur my full fucking wrath.” Slowly the hillbillies set their guns down. Sardine was last. He put his on the floor, in close reach if he needed it.
Jake stepped past Sam, his rifle aimed at Breeze. Moving close to the older man, Jacob spoke in a near whisper. “Breeze, right? Dumb name.”
“Look, boy, my leg is killing me. I need a drink, so go play with someone else. Sam?”
Sam looked at Breeze and slowly shook her head.
“Who are you? Sam, who is this punk?” Breeze asked.
“He’s my pissed off crazy brother.’
“And, I’m your last prayer,” Jacob said. He nodded at Sam. She turned and helped Jo Jo to his feet. Jo Jo gave Big Bob a kick in the head, then pulled his revolver and moved to stand near Valentina. Sam walked past them, heading for the door.
“Sam, Sam, come on,” Breeze said.
“Got to jet, Breeze,” Sam said, then winked and walked out.
“That’s better, no distractions,” Jacob said. “Now about that drink. Make mine a Cuba Libre. That’s a rum and Coke with lime to you.”
“I know what a Cuba Libre is.”
“Good, didn’t mean to imply you were ignorant. What are you drinking?”
“Drinking? Who the fuck are you, boy?” Breeze asked, starting to raise his voice.
“Shhh. Take a seat, have a drink with me,” Jacob said. “Valentina, what are you having?” he called over his shoulder.
“You think they know how to make a Grasshopper?” Valentina said.
Jacob looked at Breeze, who shook his head.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“How about a Blue Moon? They have any Blue Curacao?” The bartender shook her head at Valentina. “I guess I’ll pass then.”
“How about you, Breeze—really is a dumb name—what are you drinking?” Jacob suddenly shouldered the M16 and took aim at Breeze’s forehead. “Order a fucking drink.”
“Fine. Shelly, Jack straight up and a Cuba Libre.”
Jacob didn’t say a word, just aimed at Breeze and waited for the cocktails to be built. Only after the bartender set them on the table and Jacob had taken a deep gulp did he speak. “This—we—are just the first wave. Binasco’s people come up here? It will be scorched earth. Like Sherman, they will march you to the sea and leave only ashes in their wake.”
“Who the fuck is Sherman? Sherman and Peabody, the cartoons? What?” Breeze asked.
“Not a fan of history, are you? Never mind. You’ll hear from Mr. Binasco tomorrow.” Jacob paused to take another pull off his drink. “He’ll want to know where you’ll be delivering his weed. I was you, I’d have a location all set up. Or, one hell of a hiding place.” Jacob finished his drink, taking his time, relishing it. “It’s the lime that makes it.” He smiled, then backed slowly toward the door.
“I don’t need to warn you, you hick bastards, not to step out that door, do I? Didn’t think so,” Valentina said as she and Jacob exited the bar. After a moment they heard Breeze shout something and “Gimme Three Steps” by Lynyrd Skynyrd started to thump through the walls.
Deep in the forest, Valentina pulled the Galaxie off the fire road they had been bouncing down. She killed the engine and lights and waited for Sam to join them and lead them out the back roads. If Breeze had been crazy enough to call his pet cops, they wanted to stay way off the main roads. Ten minutes and two cigarettes later the Firebird arrived in a cloud of dust. It flashed its lights twice and drove on. Valentina pulled out behind her. It took several hours, but finally they arrived at Callum’s apartment.
Terry was sitting on the floor by a portable stereo. On a fold-down turntable an LP was spinning. Terry was listening through a pair of headphones, his eyes half-lidded and brick red. The room reeked of pot smoke.
Sam pulled one of the earpieces away from Terry’s head. “Where is Callum?”
Terry looked up at her, his eyes focusing. “You made it. Valentina, Jake?”
“Everyone is good, fine. Where is Callum?”
“Good. Yeah, good.” Terry smiled in a far off way.
“Callum?”
“Out. Said he had something to do.”
“He say what it was?”
“Nope, and I didn’t ask. He has mostly shit taste in music. I did find some Roxy Music.” Terry held up a black album jacket with art of a woman in implausibly tall heels and a beyond skintight Visqueen dress walking her pet panther.
“It’s mine,” Sam said. “So is the T. Rex.”
“Makes sense.” Terry put the headphones back on, closing his eyes.
Valentina looked at Terry for a long moment, then turned away. From the fridge she got a beer, took a long p
ull off the bottle. In the living area was a white, plastic, spherical chair. Valentina turned it to face the front door and sat down. Resting the M16 across her lap, she drank in silence.
Jacob looked from Valentina to Terry to Sam, who shrugged.
Jo Jo broke the silence. “What’d I miss? Seems to me we just showed a room full of punks who’s boss. A celebration wouldn’t be too far out of order.”
Jacob looked at him and walked out.
“What’s with Jacob?” Jo Jo said to Sam.
“A whole lot of none of your business.”
“Fine, fucking weirdoes.” Jo Jo turned on the TV and started clicking the channels around the dial. News, news, reruns, reruns. He settled on The Six Million Dollar Man.
• • •
Behind the apartment building, the Firebird was shrouded in fog. Jacob sat in the driver’s seat singing along with Ziggy Stardust. “I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you. I’m the space invader, I’ll be a rock ’n’ rollin’ bitch for you.” Bowie brought some semblance of normalcy. He had traveled so far from Foothill Park. A little over a week ago he and Candy had been in her car singing and talking about going to college.
Now it felt like it was forever ago and a million miles away.
In the strip club, confronting Breeze, he had just been playing a roll, an improv like in drama class. An improv like De Niro and Keitel in Mean Streets or Taxi Driver.
“You talking to me?” he said into the rearview mirror. “I’m the only one here, who the fuck are you talking to?”
He felt like crying. His heart was pounding. He felt like running away. He felt like driving down the coast to be with Candy. He felt like following Terry’s lead and getting massively stoned. What he did was turn up the music and try to let his mind go blank.
• • •
“I shot Breeze,” Sam told Callum.
“Did you kill him? And if you did, I don’t want to know.”
“In the leg. He’ll live. But how fucked up is that? I shot him, would have killed him I think, if it went that way.” They were sitting at his kitchen table.
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