by Jeri Estes
It all made sense to me. I remembered seeing Linda talking on the phone at the Grapevine the night Carmen was killed. I also saw Linda the morning I was attacked outside my bookkeeper’s. The truth hit me hard. I had been so focused on Little Rosie that it never occurred to me to even suspect Linda.
“Oh my God. Do you think she had anything to do with that fat ass hitting me over the head with the pliers? I thought he might be one of our johns, since I remembered seeing him working over at the house one day.”
“After I found about Linda, Marie and I had a talk. We discussed that episode and the man who attacked you. Marie informed me that he was a regular john of Linda’s. She could have easily called him so they could split Prince’s hit money.”
Picturing Linda from Missouri in her hippie drag, I flashed back on her getting in the cab that day. Motivated by five grand, she probably had jumped right out and went to a phone booth. She could have called her trick. It takes five minutes to get anywhere in the TL. When I was getting my shoes shined, Linda was trying to get me knocked off.
“Bunny, thank God I was always taught to give people the benefit of the doubt. Otherwise, I could have made a rash decision,” I thought out loud.
“You were wise to wait, Jesse. The matron dyke also had a chat with me today. She told me she’s been frantically trying to reach Rosie for weeks. The night you and Carmen were shot, she had called the Grapevine. She asked Linda to warn Rosie that Giuseppe had been killed. She didn’t want Rosie to get hurt in the crossfire.
“Helmet Head has been calling the house. Poor thing never got through Jujubees. His message was always the same, ‘Little Rosie is inconsolable and incognito.’”
“This will be the last game that farmer’s daughter ever runs,” I said in simmering rage.
“Jesse, Pearl told me Linda is with them. It’s your decision.”
Our Town Car cruised through the dockyard and pulled up behind a huge cargo container. Bunny squeezed my hand and said, “I’ll be waiting right here.”
Chang’s henchman opened the trunk to retrieve my rifle. I stepped out after him. Pulling out my trusted Zippo, I lit the paper in my hand. I watched it burn as if it were Linda’s funeral pyre.
He handed me the rifle and I slung it over my shoulder. Checking the miniature two-way radio tucked next to my .38, I climbed up the ladder. Looking over the edge, I saw that the makeshift fort offered me a perfect view of the Floating Dragon resting in the slip below. The deck was decorated with glowing strings of colorful oriental paper lanterns.
The ridges of cold steel beneath me chilled my body as I awaited Junior’s arrival. Gazing out at San Francisco Bay, I listened to the soft squeaking of the gently rocking boats. Pulling out my silver whiskey flask, I unscrewed the cap, attached with a small silver chain, and took a sip.
Blanketed in darkness under the canopy of stars, I longed for Carmen. Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the skyline behind Alcatraz Island. As it disappeared into the darkness it left a vast emptiness that reminded me of how suddenly life can change.
My mind flooded with memories of Carmen. Her image flickered through my brain like a silent film in a penny arcade. A barrage of precious moments flashed before me: the touch of her warm hand resting on mine, her auburn hair and dancing green eyes as she smiled, her voice saying, “I love you, Jesse,” the last time we made love. Junior’s voice crackled from the walkie-talkie, startling me. “Boss, I’m coming up. Don’t shoot my ass!”
“I won’t shoot you. Come on up, Vato,” I answered.
Junior crawled over to me. In silent grief, with Junior by my side, I looked out at the dark ocean water.
“Boss, looks like this will all be over soon,” she said reassuringly.
“You got that right. Well, I finally found out who dropped the dime. It was Linda from Missouri.”
Junior’s jaw dropped. “No shit!”
“Yeah, guess she had the hots for Giuseppe. Every time she went missing, she was at County Jail visiting the sick fuck.”
“Thank God it wasn’t Rosie,” Junior commented. “I would have missed that bitch.”
“Yeah, me too,” I said with a sigh. “The whole situation is sad. It breaks my heart. Linda is so young.”
Junior stiffened at my side. “This is war and, like you said, boss, we gotta do the job ourselves this time.”
“I wasn’t respected,” I said darkly. “Fear is what the TL respects. Rumors of our enemy’s gruesome demise will run through the TL like a river of blood.”
“That’s cool, boss.”
“Rumors are a powerful tool on the streets, Junior.”
“Boss, I checked everything out on the boat. I met Deadly Chang’s son, the ninja dude. He was so excited to show me his father’s gift, a new sword from Guangdong. Aye Chingao!”
Bunny’s love struck mob boss had rented a floor of suites at the Drake Hotel for him and his entourage. Tara of the West’s finest were keeping them company. The suites down the hall from the partying mobsters served as a barracks for the rest of my crew—Lovey Lupree, Marie and her sidekick Jujubees.
“Junior, I hope my soldiers are gonna be as professional as Chang’s.”
“Boss, since you got hit, everyone’s got their shit together.”
“You got that right, Junior. Even butt-fucking Scope and his hormone-heavy bitch surprised me with their professionalism. I’m glad I listened to my father’s business advice to never burn bridges.”
Junior and my conversation ended as we suddenly heard crackling voices over our walkie-talkies. The voices of Prince and my crew alerted us that our enemies were approaching. The partying passengers must be cruising through the docks.
I studied the Floating Dragon through the high powered scope of my rifle. It had a red dragon painted above its name on the stern. I smiled, realizing it matched the dragons on Asian Pearl’s chopsticks.
Little Rosie’s voice excitedly piped in over our walkie-talkies, “Oh, Prince, baby! Thank God, I see the Dragon yacht. I’m starved.”
We heard Linda say, “I love seafood buffets! Pearl honey, did you order fresh cracked crab?”
“Yes, Linda. We are gonna have a real feast tonight,” purred back my geisha captain.
Prince’s baritone voice chimed in, “Oh good. I can’t wait to have me some shrimps!”
The sound of popping Bazooka bubble gum signaled Bubble Gum Guppy’s enthusiasm.
I radioed for the captain of the Floating Dragon, “Come in, Captain Scope. Come in…over.”
“Yes sir, Jesse…Captain Scope here. Over.”
“Heads up, Scope. The target is entering the docks. Is everyone in their positions?”
“Affirmative. All systems are go!”
“Scope,” I said, “I want you to inform the crew that we have a new party guest. Make sure you give Linda from Missouri the same royal treatment as our VIPs. Is Joy Luck with you?”
“Yes, she’s right here, commander,” Scope replied.
“Put her on the radio, will ya?”
The haughty queen asked in an indifferent tone of voice,” What can I do for you, Jesse?”
“Please speak to your cousin Pearl in Mandarin and tell her that Linda is the dime dropper. Make sure Pearl introduces her to Chang’s boy.”
“Of course, Jesse.”
I called for Joe on the radio. He was hiding in the closet of the captain’s quarters. “Joe, come in.”
There was silence.
I called again, “Come in, Joe. Do you read me, Joe?”
“Yeah, boss. I’m here,” Joe finally responded in muffled tones.
“Joe, what took you so long? Are we good to go?”
“I was sharpening my skinning knives…I’ll make my ancestors proud tonight.”
I grimaced at Joe’s comments and felt a chill run up my spine.
“Joe, by the way, Linda has been assigned to the ninja guy. Rosie’s in the clear.”
“Got it, boss,” Joe replied.
I
contacted our lookouts with my walkie-talkie. “Little Bastard…heads up. Our guests have arrived.” Little Bastard and Rascal were perched at their post lying on top of a cargo container across from the gangplank. They were armed with high-powered rifles, covering our backs in the event of any glitches.
Little Bastard responded, “Boss, they’re in our sights.”
We watched the headlights flood the cement of the parking lot below as the big V-8 pulled up. The beams shot out from the chrome-toothed grille of the Lincoln and illuminated the gangplank leading to the Floating Dragon. Like an Indian scout high on a cliff, I watched my game plan unfold.
Prince’s voice punched through the static on the walkie-talkie. “It’s a shame I killed both them bitches. That Carmen would have been a sweet dessert…”
His vile words made me want to pull the trigger now.
Junior tried to adjust the frequency so we could hear him more clearly.
“…oh well….daddy had to teach Jesse a little respect. What dumb bitches!”
As the loud-mouthed, loose-lipped parasite rapped crap to my girls, I caressed my gun.
Little Rosie’s excited musical voice came in over the speaker and flooded the night air. “That’s right, big daddy! Uh-huh, baby!” She punctuated each lie with the loud snap of her fingers.
Asian Pearl’s voice chimed in, “We’re going to make a fortune off those peasant bitches. We won’t pay them a dime!” With a sleazy hiss, she added, “With sex slaves, there’s no overhead.”
“Pearl sounds real cold, boss,” Junior remarked.
“She is…and very dangerous.”
Prince bragged, “Pearl, my little fortune cookie, too bad I blew Carmen away. The green-eyed bitch was fine! Once she got a taste of my big cock, she would be cured!” Prince grabbed his cock to emphasize his point.
“She was an amateur, daddy. Now you’re dealing with a pro,” Asian Pearl stated arrogantly. “Tonight, I’m gonna give your balls a real special treatment!”
“They’re all yours, baby!” Prince answered.
Junior and I saw the stretch limo pull up to our dock and watched the passengers unload. Bubble Gum Guppy got out first and opened the door for Prince and the ladies. Next, out stepped the tall, stunning henchman, Blondie the Swede in a fine Italian, three-piece, royal blue suit. The gorgeous blond, like a Hollywood movie star going to a premiere, looked out of place at the desolate docks. Linda, acting like an actress before adoring fans, held onto Blondie’s arm as she exited the car.
I said to Junior, “Looks like Linda got herself all dolled up. Guess she thinks she’s a movie star now.”
Asian Pearl was glittering with diamonds. She wore a black cocktail dress with a white sealskin fur coat. Her lovelocks concealed deluxe razor-sharp chopsticks with the extra long blades.
Prince, the VIP guest, stepped out of the vehicle. His towering height was magnified by a mammoth afro-puff. He wore a loud-ass, purple leather coat.
Little Rosie emerged from the car and carefully placed her four-inch, diamond-studded stilettos onto the ground. She hugged her long black mink with her elegant, black-gloved hands. Rosie’s foot-high, ratted beehive was crowned with a ruby and diamond-encrusted tiara that glittered under the wharf’s fog lights.
Junior and I heard the low voices of the passengers over the walkie-talkie clearly coming through Pearl’s wire, nestled snugly between her tits. We listened to their footsteps on the wooden dock. Their words drifted through patches of broken fog floating up to us.
We listened to the lowlife pimp’s lame impersonation of a pirate as the group ascended the gangplank. Acting like a wannabe Captain Hook, he yelled orders to his motley crew of pirates. “ARRRGGGHHH! Listen up, wench bitches! ARRRGGGHHH! When we pick up them China dolls, I want you pros to suck my dick! Teach those little chop-suey sex slaves how it’s done in America! ARRRGGGHHH!”
Little Rosie threw her arm up in the air, attempted to snap her gloved fingers and responded to Prince, “You got it, big daddy. I’ll teach them real good!” Rosie exclaimed in her thick accent. “Before you know it, those slave bitches will be sucking as good as an Electrolux.”
Prince and his entourage chuckled and guffawed.
Like a ghost out of the stillness, on the deck of the Floating Dragon, the evening’s hostess, Joy Luck, mysteriously appeared at the top of the gangplank. Her face painted with heavy, stark white Madame Butterfly makeup. The queen stood elegantly erect, dressed like a sultry geisha. She wore a loosely wrapped, brilliant red-silk kimono decorated with beautiful white cranes. The garment’s pattern framed her overexposed, cavernous cleavage. Joy Luck’s nipples protruded through the silk like welcome buttons. Like a royal headdress, her towering love-locked hairdo matched Asian Pearl’s right down to the chopstick hairpins.
The Asian hormone junkie held a tray of martinis out to the ascending guests. She greeted them in a husky, seductive tone, “Welcome to the Floating Dragon.” Joy Luck smiled demurely and bowed her head.
Prince swaggered up to the ship’s deck toward Joy Luck but seemed oddly intimidated by the haunting dragon lady. He performed a full bow to her and said, “Thank you.” Eyeing the drinks on the tray, he grabbed one of the martinis and downed it.
One by one, Prince’s entourage walked up the plank. Each passenger was greeted by an elegant bow from Joy Luck as they took a drink from her tray. Pearl gave her cousin a subtle bow as the party procession passed under the oriental lanterns onto the deck.
Junior and I saw Captain Scope, dressed in his crisp white captain’s uniform, walk briskly onto the deck. He welcomed the guests with a toothy grin.
“Welcome, friends. We’re going to rendezvous with the Chinese merchant ship in international waters off the Farallon Islands. The weather is clear tonight. It should be a smooth ride.”
Scope then barked, “Joy Luck, take care of these folks!”
The diesel engines kicked in and an inconspicuous deckhand deftly released the ropes. This sailor was none other than Deadly Chang’s number one son, Hei An Tian Shi, a.k.a. “Dom the Dark Angel,” his father’s most proficient assassin. This recruited master of martial arts was a notorious ninja warrior who had delivered countless souls to the Pure Land.
Joy Luck chatted briefly with Pearl. Taking Linda by the arm, Pearl walked her casually over to the Asian deck hand. He gave a formal low bow to Linda. The beat of the diesel engine matched my heart as I offered up a silent prayer asking God for forgiveness. The Floating Dragon took my enemies to Hell. Growing silent, the boat disappeared under the Golden Gate Bridge.
Once the ship faded from view, Rascal and Little Bastard moved like shadows toward Prince’s vacant limo. The duo of professional ex-burglars quickly hot-wired the car and took off toward their favorite chop shop in Oakland.
“Junior,” I said, “between the great whites and the burial at sea, Captain Clancy won’t find a trace of Prince. He’ll be really pissed when he hears that we’ve all been partying at the Drake tonight. I hope he enjoys looking through all our room service receipts.”
“Yeah, boss. We’ve all been spiffing the hotel staff a lot of cash.”
“Money talks and it buys silence,” I mused aloud.
The San Francisco skyline and the harbor lights caught my attention as the Floating Dragon motored farther from the mainland. “Junior, I’m gonna catch a few minutes alone. Thanks for everything. I’ll meet you back at the Drake.”
“Oh sure, boss,” she replied, understanding. Junior proceeded to climb down the rear of the cargo container.
Looking up at the North Star, I could feel Carmen’s presence envelop me. A wisp of Chanel and a hint of soap seemed to hover in the breeze and flooded my senses. I yearned to hold her.
A full yellow harvest moon hung over the Golden Gate Bridge and the glimmering black sea. High in the heavens like a diamond, the North Star anchored the darkness. The jewel of the heavens reminded me of Carmen, who I knew was with me.
Images of my girl gave me courage. W
e had spoken as young lovers in sacred hushed tones. The warmth of her young body soothed me as we held each other close. I remembered her words as she whispered into my ear, “You can’t fool me with your player’s act. I can see your beautiful soul.”
Carmen gazed into my eyes, captivating me. I took in her words as she whispered, “I understand the need to keep up a front, Jesse. In the TL, it’s all about whose left standing.”
The chilly night air and the salty sea mist briskly welcomed me as I got to my feet. I stood and faced the dark. Yielding to the soft wind, I felt a tear cross my lips.
Chapter 36
DELICATE WILDFLOWERS
Joe handled the big V-8 with precision, parking the car in front of the Grapevine topless club with minor damages. He bumped a Volkswagen parked in front, nudging it a few inches forward exclaiming, “Fucking hippies!” His gruff voice rumbled over the front seat as he protectively warned, “Watch your back.” The heavily armed Cyclops jumped out, surveyed the streets and then opened my door. The tinted windows and early morning hour protected me from recognition. Dark shades shielded my bloodshot eyes as I stepped into the sunlight.
As I entered the cave of depravity, the familiar refrain of the club’s patron saint, Marvin Gaye, greeted me: “Not much longer would you be mine.” The joint was empty since Rosie wasn’t performing till later tonight. A few raincoat alkies nursed stale beers and hangovers. I caressed my snub-nosed .38, which I’d packed in my overcoat pocket. Checking out the surroundings, I made sure there wasn’t any unwelcomed company lurking in the darkness.
Tuttle’s silver hair beamed from behind the bar. Cautiously, I approached the mahogany altar and sat at my designated stool. Tuttle raised his unruly eyebrow, poured a double JD and a water back.
“I was beginning to believe you really were dead. I haven’t seen you in months.”
“It’s an art to play possum.”
“You won’t be playacting if you’re spotted. Prince may have a relative or two.”
“I don’t think so, old man.”