“Handle your own business, Pink and I’ll handle mine.”
“Don’t be such a poor sport, Kendall.”
He hollered something else at me, but I was too far out of earshot and the reverberation on the ship’s hull made it impossible to make out his words. I had an idea though.
CHAPTER 9
Bump in the Night
It was one thing to have won the fight, but the real battle began at the party afterwards. A thousand vices were waiting for us, looking as pretty as a Friday night whore; unmarked coloured pills sat in bowls like an emptied packet of Skittles. People dipped their mitts in and swallowed their catch, titillated by the unknown effects their chosen poison would have on them.
There was an Everest of cocaine, Ecstasy, acid, meth, and more. Arnie knew what people wanted. They wanted sport, to go hunting. They wanted blood and Arnie gave it to them every second Friday night, for a small price. After their lust for blood was sated, he gave them a jungle filled with preying eyes and minds that were cooking on whatever substance that was made available to them. Arnie always had a fresh crop of young girls readily available, not a single one of whom could speak a word of English, yet they could giggle and fidget as they tried.
I never fell victim to a single one of the vices Arnie tried to clamp shut around me that first night. I came close a couple of times, but managed to find my way into the open night air after we had docked. I thought I had gone unnoticed too, but I was wrong. Arnie had noticed and told me so later. I thought about that, about him watching me. I realized if I wanted this new thing to work, like any other job, I needed to be a team player no matter what that meant.
I picked up a bottle of whiskey. I thought that’s what a person does when they ought to celebrate. I had money in my pocket, so why not. I walked out into the night with my paper-bagged prize in hand and took a deep swig. It felt good going down. It’s odd how alcohol going into your belly makes your wounds feel better but burns mercilessly when it runs freely over the wound itself.
I walked aimlessly and rather enjoyed doing so. I never paid much attention to the hands of the clock. Time would have to look for someone else to torture.
The night was quiet. I liked it quiet. I liked being able to hear the trees creak and the leaves play their tricks. I let the night air fill my lungs. I took another drink from the bottle in my hand and wiped my chin. I walked down the sidewalk for at least another hour, heading nowhere in particular. I didn’t see a soul, other than a grey dog tearing at a bag of trash down an alley. I stopped and watched him wrestle with it for a few minutes. He finally noticed me and looked at me like I was invading his privacy. Then the dog became human, the dog simply being his Form, and continued to look at me speculatively. No one likes to be watched while they’re eating. I moved on and let the man have his meal.
My bottle was three quarters empty when I heard them. I rounded the corner and approached the backside of a four-story tenement. The building was dilapidated, a housing project meant to breed and house predators.
It was dark as there were no streetlights on the backside of the building. I stood in the shadows and edged my nose around the corner. There were four of them standing and one poor soul lying on the dirt in front of them. Local wolves had found a piece of tender meat. I don’t much care for people who hunt in packs. I find it cowardly. I set my bottle on the ground and I moved forward slowly. Their backs were to me. As I approached, one of them started beating on their victim. I didn’t hear a sound. When I get like this, I don’t hear anything; I stop listening with my ears and my other senses become heightened.
I put the toe of my boot into the backside of the knee of the chap I figured could handle himself the best. He bent backwards in an awkward way so his face was looking up at mine as he continued to fall. I enjoyed his look of shock. I put my elbow in his Adam’s apple to quicken his trip to the ground and he was done. One of the other men looked at me with frozen eyes. Hesitation will get you killed in these situations. I put my right fist into his nose with a force that crushed it. He folded like laundry and landed just as neat in a pile in front of me.
I didn’t get around quickly enough thanks to the drink in me, and I took a pipe or something like it across my back. I managed to roll with it, the whisky working to numb the pain. I put myself back on my feet in time to see the second swing come for my head. I ducked beneath the pipe as it passed over me and I came up with a left uppercut that lifted him off his feet. He landed on his back and kicked up a cloud of dust.
The fourth just looked at me and I looked at him. His eyes said he was going to run and he did, but not before he changed into his Form. A black raccoon scuttled off into the night. Normally I would have chased him to finish my work but I was drunk. Hell, it was my fifth fight of the night after all.
I straightened myself out, ran my hands through my hair, and started to walk back towards my bottle.
“Thank you.”
It was a woman’s voice. I turned around and squinted into the darkness. A thin figure moved towards me.
“My car broke down two streets over and my cell phone battery was dead. I left the car to look for a payphone to call a tow truck and…” She trailed off and went silent.
I couldn’t quite make out her face, only rough shapes in the darkness. Now I was the one who hesitated.
“What’s your name?” She had a good voice, soft and lacelike.
I fenced the question with one of my own.
“What’s the make of your car?”
“Audi.”
“Year?”
“Brand new, this year.”
“Why don’t you show me where it is?”
“Okay.” Her voice was meek.
“Don’t worry lady, I’m not going to rob you.” I started to walk without her and then heard her pick up her feet behind me.
As we stepped into the light beneath the street lamp on the sidewalk, I got my first glimpse of her. She had a bruise starting to form on her face and there was a small bit of drying blood in the right corner of her full lips. Long dark, lashes protected her blue eyes, that glowed evenly in the soft light. I looked at her too long and I knew it but didn’t care.
I let her lead. Her car wasn’t far, just like she said. I told her to sit in the driver’s seat and I got her to release the hood latch. I could tell the problem right away. One of the battery cables wasn’t connected properly.
“Do you have any tools, or a spare tire kit in the trunk?”
She got out of the car.
“Will this help?” She handed me a folding multipurpose tool.
I unfolded it and used the pliers to tighten the loose connection.
“Okay, give it try.”
She did and the engine fired. I closed the hood and saw her sitting inside the vehicle. The moment passed. I had done my job and turned and walked away.
I heard her car door open.
“What’s your name?”
I turned to face her.
“Doesn’t matter, does it?”
“It does to me.”
I scoffed, then turned and started to walk away, but something made me stop again. This was the first good thing I’d done in a real long while. It felt weird. I turned to face her again.
“William, my name’s William.”
I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth. Real smart Willie boy, why didn’t I just give her a fingerprint too? I started walking again before she could say anything else. She couldn’t know me; beautiful things should stay out of my reach so they can remain that way. Walking away was another good thing I’d done that night. I thought about all the birds out there I could have had any time I wanted. I wasn’t bad to look at, in fact probably better than most lowlifes around. I had a full head of sandy brown hair that was cropped short but not too short. I was lean and in good shape, I had to be. I had a man’s jaw that was square with a pair of blue eyes you could be proud of, if that was your thing.
I told myself to stop
thinking about her and convinced myself I had the will to do so. This was the only time in my life where I knowingly lied to myself, because I didn’t stop thinking about her. Not that night or any night after it.
I made my way back to the spot where I had left my bottle on the ground but when I got there, the only thing left was the brown paper bag.
CHAPTER 10
Pleasantries and Things Not so Pleasant at All
I sat, perched upon my stool, and swiveled back to the rail of the bar. The bartender went by the name of Mex. He was a good man, considering he worked a bar on a boat for a man named Arnie with a crowd of crooks. He wasn’t a talker, but that was because he was missing his tongue. It had been cut out of his mouth years ago. He was a damn good listener though, and it was a safe bet he’d never say anything unkind about you to your face or behind your back.
Mex handed me a glass and two ounces of decent quality bourbon to go with it. I took a whiff and then a sip, setting the glass on the counter in front of me.
Arnie was having a conversation with Rusty. Rusty might not have been aware of that though, because he just argued everything that came through Arnie’s lips. Pink and I were just sitting at the bar, listening and drinking.
“You don’t like the way I fight?’
Arnie shook his head calmly. “You misunderstand me.” “Do I?”
Arnie had very limited patience for direct disobedience. His was a unique society, with certain rules and doctrines, and he required that no one question these orders. In fact, after you were spoon-fed his lies with coercive manipulation, he would nonchalantly ask you to forget what you had just talked about in the first place. It was beautiful in its simplicity. Get someone to believe what you want him or her to believe then make that person think you were just making idle conversation.
Once you’ve learned something, it is almost impossible to unlearn it. Even in school, they teach you that there are only five human senses: touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound. Whatever happened to that other one we call common sense? Why is this the sense that every government, military, and form of media want you to forget exists? Maybe it’s because it’s the only sense that requires actual thought to use it, and therefore a dangerous thing; a single individual can undo the work of a thousand drones.
Arnie was getting irritated. “Yes, you heard me.” I could see his temper flare.
“I won the fight, didn’t I? Got this sweet chain made last night to celebrate.” Rusty was referring to a necklace he wore that had Stentinowksi’s tooth hanging from it. He had someone make a two-inch silver shaft with the tooth hilted on the end. He had the tooth lightly beveled so he could use it to snort cocaine with.
“I wanted seven rounds and you gave me five.”
“I gave you a victory, that’s what you said you wanted! Go fuck yourself!”
Arnie ran his hand through his thin dark hair once slowly, then two more times quickly. Pink and I swiveled in our chairs to face the action that was about to take place.
Arnie went over to the end of the bar. He tapped his index finger twice on the edge of the counter and Mex handed him a 9 mm and a full clip. Arnie put the clip in and pulled a bullet into the chamber. He walked over to Rusty.
“This is not a democracy. You do as I say or your useless brain gets renovated. Do you follow?”
Rusty stood up with the nozzle of the pistol pressed firmly against his forehead and looked Arnie directly in the eyes.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
This was an unexpected move from Rusty. As it turns out, he wasn’t dumb as much as he was mentally ill. It’s truly strange when you think about it: a man beats another man to a bloody pulp, enjoys killing him, and extracts a tooth from his mouth as a souvenir and we don’t think to ourselves, hey, this guy might just be unbalanced. But in the world we were living in, this was the new normal.
Arnie pulled the gun from his head. He knew Rusty had him, but only for a moment. Crazy people had necessities too and Arnie only needed a split second to find Rusty’s weakness.
“Pink, take this piece of shit and get him off my boat.”
Pink shot back the rest of his drink and stood up off the stool. Rusty looked at Arnie. Then he realized what was happening. Arnie wasn’t going to kill him, no, that wouldn’t work. He was going to take away the thing he loved the most, the fights.
“So I can’t fight for you anymore?”
“I can always find good fighters. Dime a dozen.”
Rusty rubbed his head and then sighed.
“Okay, fine. You’re the boss. You want seven rounds, I’ll give you seven rounds.”
Arnie turned back to face Rusty.
“You don’t want to know what will happen to you if you question me again. Understood?”
“Yeah, fine. Can we eat now?”
Arnie looked over at Pink, who shrugged at Rusty’s seemingly random suggestion.
“I could eat.” Pink looked over at me. “You hungry?”
“Whatever.”
Sometimes, ambivalence is the only emotion worth having.
CHAPTER 11
2003 – Harvest
They brought her in with the other nine girls who could not be mistaken for women. A trivial semantic that Arnie would remedy shortly. It’s amazing how trashy make-up, a short skirt, and heels can add ten years to the illusion of maturity. Each girl was a different ethnicity, like they had been handpicked from a human supermarket.
I made eye contact with one of them. She was young but she had hardened eyes of coal, the kind you’d imagine a wolf would have facing down the barrel of a shotgun in the hands of Allan Quartermain. She bared her canines and snarled with a ferocity that shook the other girls from their zombie-like state. She had claws too, and she raked at her captors with them. She writhed and squirmed for no other reason than it was her nature to do so. Arnie hit her with a closed fist and she dropped to her knees. A lethargic stream of gooey blood trickled from her mouth.
I watched. I sat at the bar and nursed a glass of bourbon. I had won all three fights that night. Despite the victories, they were difficult and vicious rounds. Either I was slowing down or my opponents were getting much better. I was in no shape to stand and my stomach was not ready for any of Arnie’s tender love and care.
Arnie stood her up and held her loosely by her throat. Their eyes locked and she spit right in his face. I liked her. Arnie liked her too so he hit her again, this time in the gut. She doubled over and coughed blood onto the floor beneath her. I spoke up.
“Would you cut off the hands of your prize fighter right before he’s about to make you thousands of dollars?”
Arnie ran both of his hands along the sides of his head to straighten his damp, disheveled hair. He took a small vial from his pocket and dipped his elongated pinky nail into the white powder, which he vacuumed into his left nostril. He coughed and laughed at the same time.
“Kendall is right, never harm that which will bring you profit. I should know better. Still…” He paused and took another sniff of powder before he continued. He locked his eyes with mine and I watched the fire behind them smolder and erupt into pure coca driven lust. “Young meat is so much better once it has been tenderized.”
He cracked his knuckles and smiled at me.
“Get them cleaned up and get some chow in them. I want them schooled and ready in a week. Break their spirits but not their bones, Rusty.”
Eight of the girls kept their eyes to the floor. If you kick a dog long enough, he won’t bare his teeth. Hell, after a long while he’ll probably love you for it. These girls were young, and their young minds were telling them to settle in for the ride, follow the rules and survive. But the girl with the hardened eyes and claws looked straight ahead, past the pain, anger and fear, past Arnie and right at me. Her eyes burned a hole through the glass of bourbon I held in front of my mouth. Her eyes spoke volumes, but mine gave her back nothing. I had gotten good at that, hiding my tells. I was a master at it, actually. I
had to be. I just looked back at her with veiled emotion, but I still felt something deep down.
Rusty was the wrong man for this job. I knew it, and I just needed Arnie to realize it too. I saw an open window and decided to try and climb inside.
Rusty led the queue from the room and I went back to my bourbon. Arnie sat down on the stool beside me and Mex brought him a shot of Stoli. He put it back and fingered for another.
“Women will always be at our feet.”
I knew better than to engage him when he got like this.
“Because we have a willingness to do the things they won’t,” he continued.
I took another drink and set my empty glass on the counter. I knew he hadn’t finished yet. I could feel his eyes on me. I waited a moment and then I looked at him like he wanted me too. His eyes searched mine.
“Why’d you say what you did when I hit her?”
“What do you mean?” I knew to answer a question like that with another question.
“I mean, why should you give a shit if I tap a bitch back into line?”
“I want to get paid,” I said, looking right back into his eyes steadily.
He looked down at his full shot glass. He took it between his thumb and forefinger, brought it to his mouth and his lips parted slightly. They disgusted me; I couldn’t help but imagine all the filthy places they’d been, let alone the deplorable things they’d said.
“You want to get paid. You mean the fights aren’t enough? Is that it?”
“I mean I want more.”
He smiled.
“Of course you do. Don’t we all.” He put back the shot and wiped his mouth.
“Okay.” He got up from the stool. “I’ll take care of it. You want to work, so you’ll work. I like ambition.”
As he walked away, I pushed my empty glass along the counter and Mex responded with another long pour.
“Oh, Kendall?”
I turned in my stool to face Arnie.
“You’ll still do the fights, got it?”
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