Stilettos and Steel

by Jeri Estes

  I was happy to see that Little Rosie had calmed down enough to hit the stage. Junior was sitting at the bar. Her white Stetson was sitting next to an amber-colored glass filled with scotch and soda.

  Junior turned around as if she could sense me approach. I greeted her with genuine warmth, happy to see her smiling face. “Thanks, Junior. I heard Rosie has been a real piece of work tonight.”

  Taking the tall barstool next to Junior, I tapped the wooden counter. I gave a welcome wink and smile to the cheerful old bartender as I pulled out my Pall Malls and enjoyed a cig. Tuttle set up my usual with a smile and moved to the end of the bar to serve another customer.

  My soft-spoken henchman started speaking. “Jesse, I think Rosie is pissed off at you for showing Carmen so much attention over the pool table.” Junior’s otherwise stoic face lit up with a mischievous grin. I could detect a spark of admiration in her eyes.

  Junior continued, “I think she’s jealous and just tripping. She’s dying to talk to you.”

  “I don’t know what’s up,” I said.

  “Fuckin’ femmes,” Junior sighed. “Rosie said she’ll only tell you what’s up.”

  Replying with a like-minded nod, I drank one of my shooters.

  The booze went down my throat and the warmth slowly spread through my chest as I listened to Junior run on about femmes.

  My irate chi-chi mama suddenly interrupted us, wearing a cheetah skin-halter top and black skintight pants. Her verbal assault nearly knocked me off my stool.

  “Thank God you’re here. Why wouldn’t you see me? Shit’s coming down, baby.”

  “Calm down, girl. Tell me what’s happening.”

  “My mink! Poof, it’s gone! Those limp-dick bastards boosted my sisters! They snatched their asses! Deep shit is coming down! Where you been, baby? They could be chopped up by now!”

  I grabbed Rosie by the shoulders and shook her. Sternly, I ordered Rosie, “Breathe! Slow down! Just tell me what’s up!”

  Rosie sniveled, took a deep breath and said, “They kidnapped Pearl…they got the hick too. We’ve gotta get Asian Pearl back!”

  “Hold on, girl. Who got who?” I asked anxiously.

  “Prince and his crank-head, loco brother Giuseppe,” Rosie exclaimed. “I saw their ugly purple Caddy prowling around. Asian Pearl and Linda from Missouri blew the gig at the Hilton last night. They never showed up. Get me a drink, would ya? I’m scared. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ve got to find them.”

  “Come sit your pretty little ass down next to me. I’ll get you a drink. Baby, calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”

  “Oh, papi, I’m so scared. I don’t want to go missing next,” cried Rosie. I watched her struggle, trying to get on the tall stool, even though she had on four-inch stiletto heels. She had to grab my arm to pull herself up.

  I jerked my head back, downing another shot and trying to drown a sudden jolt of fear. “Pearl is a top-notch professional. She never blows a good date,” I said to Junior.

  “Jesse, Little Rosie seems to really believe that Prince kidnapped them!” exclaimed Junior. “Boss, do you think he would be loco enough to do that?”

  I flashed back to the confrontation we had with Prince on Taylor Street. “I’m going to put some runners on the street and we’re going to find out.”

  Junior nodded with an anxious look in her black eyes.

  “I have to get over to the house right away,” I told her. “I’m not taking any chances. I need to alert Bunny and Marie to the situation. Get everybody over to the house in an hour. It’s Sunday, so it’s empty.

  “Have the bikers hit the streets. Offer a five-hundred-dollar reward for information about the whores’ whereabouts. I’ll see you in Chinatown. Got it?”

  “I got it!”

  The thought of needing extra muscle sparked another one. “By the way, Junior, tell Red to bring that one-eyed Indian who wants a job with him.”

  “I’m on it, it’s done!”

  “Don’t shoot your mouth off to the other girls,” I cautioned Rosie. “I will handle this.”

  “Okay, baby. I’m gonna go backstage and find a sweater,” Rosie replied as she got up and headed towards the back.

  Leaving the bar, I stepped off the curb into the gutter, edgily looking for Nick, who had dropped me off. The Buick pulled up and violently lurched to a stop in front of me. Through the windshield I saw the rattling spiritual paraphernalia on his dashboard recover from Nick hitting the brakes.

  I hopped into the back seat and said, “Shit, are you trying to take me out, man?”

  The Greek chuckled. “Sorry, boss.”

  I leaned against the warm cracked vinyl seats, so relieved to get out of the cold and my head.

  The always cheerful Nick turned halfway over the front seat and asked, “What’s your pleasure, Jesse?”

  “Take me over to the house, right away.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Nick rubbed his Saint Christopher, patted Jesus, threw down the meter and slammed on the gas. The tires screeched as the big V-8 roared away from the curb. We shot down Geary Street toward Chinatown. Nick glanced at my reflection while he adjusted his rearview mirror. “Jesse, are you okay?”

  “You didn’t happen to see Asian Pearl and Linda from Missouri tonight did you?”

  “No, I haven’t seen either one of them since I dropped both of them off in front of the Booker T. Washington Hotel yesterday night. I remember hearing Linda from Missouri arguing with Asian Pearl. Linda wanted to meet some guy at the bar, but Pearl said they didn’t have time to fuck around.”

  “Did she say who the guy was?”

  “No, Jesse, I don’t know who the dude was. I just know that Linda from Missouri was very excited. The guy had extra tickets for the Jefferson Airplane concert at the Fillmore Auditorium. Traffic was a nightmare!”

  “Linda from Missouri is a wannabe hippie,” I said. “She loves the Jefferson Airplane.”

  My fifty-five-year-old street racer replied, “Asian Pearl didn’t sound like she liked the group. She screamed at Linda, saying that they were just a bunch of acid heads that talk to rabbits.” Looking genuinely confused, he asked, “How do they talk to rabbits? Is it some kind of a magic show?”

  “No,” I said, laughing. “They do sing about magic in a way, though… magic mushrooms, that is.”

  Nick scratched his head as he continued, “To shut Linda up, Pearl finally agreed to go with her to pick up the tickets. Pearl told me not to wait for them. She said she would be getting a ride. Hope that was cool, Jesse.”

  I started praying to Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers, for Pearl and Linda’s safe return.

  When I was done, I said, “It’s cool, Nick. But if you see either one of them, bring them to me, okay?”

  “You got it, boss!”

  ***

  The eyes of the white polar bear stared at me, glazed and glassy. The once majestic creature was spread out in front of the fireplace. It probably never occurred to him while loping across the white arctic ice that he would end up in a Chinatown bordello.

  I realized how clever Marie was to place the beautiful white bear rug here. It must have acquired untold revenue for the house, as the johns’ dicks got harder and harder from their sense of power as they stood on the dead beast. The primal drive was connected to man’s genetic memory from his Neanderthal days. The caveman had to go out and kill the bear, drag it into the cave, grab the woman by the hair and then pull her in and fuck her. Nowadays, all he needed was cash and a cab so he could stand on the bear and negotiate a fuck. There was a lot to be said for progress.

  Jujubees fluttered into the parlor and interrupted my private musing on the bear.

  “What’s up, Jujubees?”

  Appearing exasperated, Jujubees replied, “Miss Jesse, I have everything ready for the meeting. I don’t want to complain, but I have nothing to serve but Southern Comfort. The whole bar has been stripped. The Jack Daniel’s, the sco
tch, the liqueurs, everything is hidden in the kitchen. Marie said nothing’s better on a cold night than Southern Comfort. I don’t want you getting upset, Miss Jesse, but this southern bit is too much.”

  “Jujubees, Marie gets in a rut a little, but she’s a great madam. I appreciate your input and I might bring it up to her. In the meantime, would you go into the kitchen and sneak me some Jack?”

  Jujubees smiled, grateful for the acknowledgment. “Right away, Miss Jesse.”

  Taking a sip of my drink, I thought about my troops. We were a well-organized machine of society’s castaways. My Tenderloin army was an elect division of women engaging our enemies. Like young brave soldiers, we were a seasoned group of skilled street fighters. Banding together, we avoided capture while living in an occupied territory of the straight world. In spite of petty bickering amongst my girls, we were united like a family. We would fight the male pimps for the same cause: individual freedom.

  I heard a knock at the front door.

  Marie asked, “What’s your code?”

  “My code, my dear, is four, five, six, seven. I can send you to heaven,” sang Lovey Lupree.

  Marie greeted the Creole pimp. “Hello, Lovey.”

  “I asked the cab driver to take me to Chinatown, but he must’ve dropped me off at heaven’s door. Marie, you look like an angel.”

  “May I put away your umbrella, you charmer?”

  “No, my dear, I prefer to keep it by my side,” Lovey replied in her eloquent New Orleans drawl.

  Lovey always carried a camel-colored umbrella. Hidden in the tip was a razor-sharp retractable knife blade. When pressure was applied, it poked out quickly and cut whatever had induced its release.

  Lovey entered the parlor. “Jesse, are you okay? Where’s Carmen tonight?”

  Jujubees obliviously interrupted Lovey’s serious inquiry. “Miss Lovey, why don’t you give Jujubees your umbrella? Let me bring you a little Southern Comfort.”

  Lovey quickly transformed to a smoldering Mount St. Helens volcano. Lovey whispered back through gritted teeth, “I don’t drink Southern Comfort. Do I look like a redneck to you? I only drink scotch and soda.”

  Not to be intimidated by a pissed-off pimp with a knife in her umbrella, Jujubees swirled out of the room, shouting over his shoulder, “Scotch and soda, coming up!”

  We heard Marie call out, “Who’s there? I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

  Bunny shouted, “It’s Bunny!”

  “What’s your code?”

  “Six, nine, two…, you know I’ll take care of you!”

  Bunny’s hushed tones floated into the parlor, as she breathlessly asked Marie, “Is Jesse here?”

  Marie whispered protectively, “She’s in the parlor.”

  I stood as the little lady entered the parlor. My spirit rose the moment I saw her. Cheerful energy followed her like the train of a happy bride. She projected a calm, take-charge attitude.

  “I heard the girls are missing. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. Hi Jesse, glad to see you.” She hugged me and kissed my awaiting lips. Then seductively, she whispered into my ear, “You left in such a hurry the other night… you forgot your coat.”

  I replied softly, “Yeah, I was a little hot under the collar.”

  Pacified by my sincerity, she replied, “Yes, I thought so. I have your coat in the car. I’ll give it to you when I drive you home.”

  Satisfied that we were back on track, she reached over and hugged Lovey in greeting. She stepped back to take in the full view of Lovey’s suit. “My, Lovey, don’t you look handsome. Love your suit, child. Your shirt is almost the same shade of pink as my cashmere sweater.”

  Lovey gave a low, gallant, Sir Walter Raleigh bow and said genteelly, “You humble me, lady.” Her tooth, like a beacon, shone as she smiled. “Please forgive me, but it pales in comparison to the beauty of your attire. I feel like a peasant in a field dressed in rags next to your stylish self.”

  Bunny kissed her lovingly on the cheek as she breathlessly replied, “You are a charmer.”

  A loud ruckus erupted in the hall. Jujubees cried, “Drop the Spanish inquisition act or we’ll be in this hallway all night, Miss Marie. It’s Red and those other dumb bikers.”

  In a steely tone laced with venom, Marie reminded Jujubees that she was the lady of the house. “If you don’t want to find your faggoty, prima donna ass outside the door, I would suggest you concentrate on your job. In case you forgot what that is, it’s being a houseboy.”

  Jujubees flew by, hands on his hips, muttering, “Just no respect, no respect.”

  Bunny, Lovey and I laughed in unison at Jujubees as we heard a pounding on the door.

  Marie’s voice adamantly asked, “Who’s there?”

  Red’s whiskey-soaked voice grunted through the peephole. “It’s Red. I’m here with Animal and Joe Gomez, the dude from the rock. It’s okay, Jesse wants to see him.”

  “What’s your code?”

  “A hundred-and-one and you’re done.”

  A breeze rippled into the parlor as the door opened. We listened to the heavy clamoring of chained boots as they stomped over the wooden floor. In nervous anticipation, we awaited the entrance of the “Gomez Rexsaurus.”

  Flanking the notorious gangster were Red and Animal. I found it amazing that those two bikers, as ferocious as they were, had been reduced to meek biker escorts. I greeted the trio of muscle warmly. “Hello, boys, glad you could make it.”

  Red said proudly, “Hi, Jesse, thought you’d like that I brought Joe Gomez with me. Junior said you wanted to interview him for a job.”

  “You’re right, Red. I’m glad to see you, Gomez. I have wanted to talk to you.” I then acknowledged Red’s brother, Animal, the leader of the TL biker gang.

  Joe Gomez said to me, “I’m happy to be of service. All the boys on the yard spoke very highly of you.”

  One look at Joe revealed why he inspired such fear in everyone. He moved and spoke with the precision of a short, stocky tank. His gaze in his one visible eye was unflinching. The other was covered with a large, black V-shaped patch.

  The intensity of the one eye glared at you as he spoke in a voice that you knew camouflaged pure violence. The black eye-patch strap wrapped around his wide head over slick black hair that was pulled into a ponytail. Under Joe’s patch was a huge, thick scar that caressed his brown cheek, running from his lip to the bottom of his ear.

  Legend had it that when he was really pissed, the flat wide nostrils in his bull-like nose would flare open, and the hippies swore that they had seen smoke come out of them. Many a night, the hippies as well as other street people had seen Joe in action, when he would take out half the guys in a biker bar, bare-handed, just for exercise.

  I admiringly viewed the tattooed monster in front of me and then spontaneously slugged him in the arm. I felt my fist hit pure brick, as if I were a gnat flying into Godzilla. The one-eyed half-breed just as spontaneously punched me back in the arm with a short, soft blow and said, “Fuckin’-A. You are one fuckin’ crazy bitch! Pure balls! No wonder why you run the TL.”

  In my childhood, I would playfully spar with my dad and older brother, and I felt at home with this maniac. Maybe it was also my inherent respect for mean Yaqui Indians. I grew up listening to my Spanish grandmother telling stories about Yaquis, who would attack a train and kill everyone on board for their jewels. My grandmother’s sister barely escaped with her life in the early 1920s in Durango, Mexico, when Yaquis attacked the first-class compartment of her train. Joe was half Yaqui, and I thought how fortunate I would be to have him in my army.

  Like a group of guests at a festive party, Bunny, Lovey, the bikers and I stood outside the dining room. Jujubees, not to miss any of the action, excitedly eyed Joe up and down. I recognized a hint of lust in the Filipino’s gleaming eyes as he flirtatiously addressed the ex-con. “Mr. Gomez, welcome to the Tara of the West.” He seductively touched his gardenia and continued, “Please follow me to the dining room.”<
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  With his best Barbara Stanwyck turn and a sexy shaking of his ass, he led the trio of denim-clad, long-haired, burly bearded bikers to the table. Bunny and Lovey followed them and sat at the mahogany table. Within moments the rest of my army had assembled.

  Rascal walked in wearing a burgundy pinstriped-suit. Adorning her head was an umbrella-sized black fedora. Her sidekick sported a conservative three-piece suit. From under a pushed-back hat, Little Bastard’s smile lit up the room.

  “Boss, look at my new shoes!” Rascal proudly lifted up her foot. Her deeply polished burgundy alligator shoe was actually the size of a small alligator.

  “You’re tabbed back, dressed to kill,” I replied with a wink.

  Walking to the head of the table, I pulled out the heavy, cushioned mahogany armchair and sat down. I asked Marie to sit next to me.

  The southern belle floated on her feet as if waltzing in a grand ballroom. She took her place and gazed up at me like a woman in church listening to the preacher for her salvation.

  Bunny, in her hot pink cashmere sweater and tight little black miniskirt, walked like a queen to the opposite end of the table and sat down. The noisy, heavy-booted, leather and chain-clad men pulled back their chairs and I patiently allowed everyone to settle in under the large glittering chandelier.

  “I want to thank all of you for coming tonight on such short notice. Rosie alerted me that Asian Pearl and Linda from Missouri are missing. As you know, there are a lot of rumors going around that Prince and his boys are trying to take over the Tenderloin. It’s too soon to know if our girls are in trouble or if they’re just flaking out. Either way, they’re MIA.”

  Little Rosie said excitedly, “That’s scary. That’s why I warned Jesse!”

  “That’s cold,” said Red, growling to the group. “Fuck them punks!”

  Animal shouted, “My boys will kill the motherfuckers!”