“Now, I’m the son’s go-for. He misused a close friend of mine and I’ll never forgive him! So, brother, be convinced I’m on your side all the way. Demand a million!”
Tango seized Speedy in a bear hug, leapt to his feet. “Right on, brother! I’ll settle for nothing but a mil,” he exclaimed as he excitedly paced the carpet. Then he said to Precious, with a beatific smile, “Ain’t Brother Carl something else?”
Precious answered, “He’s the greatest! If black people had more like him, we could give greedy whitey’s pocketbook a black eye!”
Tango flopped down on the sofa, twanging with excitement, between Speedy and Precious. He said, “When do I see your boss?”
Speedy glanced at his wristwatch. “Why not this afternoon? He’s anxious and available until five. Should I call and make an appointment?”
“Great!” and he lifted the phone from the coffee table onto Speedy’s lap.
Speedy dialed the fake office and Folks’ receptionist answered. “Carl Davis for Mister Hoffman Jr. please.”
The mark leaned his ear close to the receiver.
Folks’ voice came on the line. “Yes, Carl.”
Speedy pushed the back of the receiver against Tango’s ear. “I’m at Mister Brice’s home. He’s available for a conference with you this afternoon.”
“Splendid, Carl. Put him on.”
Speedy gave Tango the receiver. He said, “I’m Joe Brice, Mister Hoffman, the owner of the chicken shack.”
Folks said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I would be delighted to see you this afternoon. Would four-thirty be convenient for you? Please bring your restaurant ownership documents.”
Tango’s voice shook with excitement. “Why yes, I’ll be there.”
“See you then, Mister Brice.”
Tango cradled the phone and replaced it on the table. He glanced at his wristwatch and stood.
“Carl, it’s just three-thirty. C’mon, I’ll let you dig my place,” he said as he walked toward the archway followed by Precious and Speedy.
Tango unlocked a door, went in, came back stuffing an envelope into his coat pocket. “Don’t want to forget the restaurant papers,” he said as he locked the door and moved down the hallway.
Tango stopped at the doorway of a room just beyond the archway. Three sharply dressed middle-aged black men stood around a felt-covered table shooting craps.
Tango said, “Friends, I’ll be back to the fun in a couple of hours.”
The gamblers nodded with loser scowls.
Speedy oohed and ahhed as Tango showed him through the two story, flashily-furnished five bedroom house. At the rear of the house, Tango paused at the open door of a rec room. Speedy stared at a half dozen of the toughest looking hoods in his memory watching a pair of their group shooting pool. They all raised their eyes and stared coldly at Speedy.
Tango went to one of the pool shooters and whispered into his ear, as Precious whispered, from the side of his mouth to Speedy, “The Tango Mob!”
Tango turned and rejoined them, leading then, into the backyard toward a large bungalow. Speedy heard the whump of boxing gloves and the staccato whap of a light punching bag used to sharpen boxer timing. They entered the gym and were enveloped in a pungent smog of resin and sweat.
Eight of Tango’s fighters, in trunks, from lightweights to a pair of heavies, were punching the light and heavy bags. Others shadow boxed. An old ox-shouldered ex-pug, cauliflowered and tar black, refereed two sweat-shiny black heavies in headgear, sparring violently, punching and grunting, in the pro size ring in the center of the room. Speedy followed Tango and Precious to a row of seats at ringside. Samson’s trunks bore his name.
As they sat down, Tango chortled, “You seeing young black Samson, the next world heavyweight champion, in action.”
For several minutes Speedy sat between them gazing raptly up at tawny black Samson delivering his wizard repertoire of combinations to the face and body of the older pug until a Samson right cross smashed scarlet from his spar mate’s nose and the brute-faced referee called time.
Speedy glazed his eyes, muttered incoherently as he rocked and wrung his hands. Precious watched, with smug amusement, as Speedy’s performance affected Tango with wide-eyed, absolute flabbergast, all according to game plan. Tango’s jaw dropped slack, mesmerized as he watched Speedy cry out and leap into the ring, seizing Samson in a bear hug.
The astonished giant stared down at Tango in complete bewilderment as Speedy blubbered, “You’re another miracle, son! God bless and keep your talents!” Speedy released him suddenly and with a far away look, parted the ropes and left the ring. He muttered, “My friends, let’s get to our appointment,” as he passed Precious and Tango.
He walked trance-like through the house and out the front door to the limousine, unlocked it and extended the keys to Precious.
“Please drive, brother. I’m not in shape.”
Precious said, “Sure, Carl.” Then he took Folks’ business card from his shirt pocket, glanced at it and pulled the limo away.
There was a thunderous silence in the car until Precious tooled the limo onto the Outer Drive for the Loop. “Brother Carl, what . . . ah, excuse me, but what happened back there in the gym?” Precious asked gently.
Speedy stared ahead as he mumbled, “Please Jimmy, forget it, will you?”
Tango stared curiously at Speedy’s profile as he patted Speedy’s knee. “Brother, you good peoples. We like you. Trust us and maybe you can unload some of the burden that’s bugging you. Okay?”
Speedy’s face was agonized, his voice strident. “Damn it, brothers, don’t quiz me no more about it. Anyway, it’s your fault, Tango, that you showed me Samson!”
Tango said, “I sure didn’t mean to put the hurt to you, brother, after you tipped me how to cop a mil and protect myself ’gainst the peckerwood. I’m sorry.”
A moment later Speedy mumbled in a whisper, “And I’m sorry I said what I did. I feel guilty I didn’t tip you all the way.”
Tango said, “What!?”
“Their contract is going to take your chicken shack and you out of the Precious Jimmy Creole Chicken business.”
Tango exclaimed, “I don’t give a fuck! Not if I get a million dollars, brother. I’ll lay you odds the Colonel didn’t give a fuck!”
Speedy smiled. “But Tango, if they don’t get your joint, it could make you another million or so.”
Tango snorted. “I’m almost fifty years old. Ain’t no guarantee I’m gonna live so I can take two grand a week for ten years outta that joint. ’Sides, it’s a assache even with Precious managing. Brother, I don’t need no chicken with a million dollars!”
“But they’ll spend millions to advertise on TV, radio, newspapers. They’ll make that chicken a household word. We could triple, even quadruple two grand a week if we got addenda to their contract giving us the exclusive right to sell Precious Jimmy Chicken on the southside.”
Tango exclaimed, “We!?”
“I’m an old man, brother. My bosses will wake up, down the line, that only I could have tipped how to demand the addenda, tipped you to anxious my boss and his father are to franchise your chicken. Brother, isn’t it fair that I be your partner in the restaurant after I get fired for tipping you how to keep it? We don’t need our agreement on paper since we black brothers, do we? Tango, I knew I could trust you when I met you. You know you can trust me. Just your handshake will satisfy me.”
Tango extended his hand. “It’s fair! You got a deal, beautiful brother. Run it down to me.”
They shook hands passionately.
Speedy said, “Does Jimmy have any piece of the restaurant?”
Tango darted a guilty look at Precious’ impassive face behind the wheel. “No, brother, I . . . uh, bought him out a hundred percent. Why?”
Speedy said softly, “We can’t be greedy can we? It wouldn’t be fair to leave a fine manager and person like Jimmy out in the cold. I say let’s share a third of the restaurant with hi
m. If it’s all right with you, Tango.”
Tango said, “Great! That’s great. That’s a deal, too.”
Speedy extended his hand and shook Tango’s flaccid duke. “Okay, then here’s the rundown from a to z. Remember, Tango, you’re not going to get a million dollar offer up front. You have to demand a million. Get up and walk out if they back up on your mil demand and your demands to keep the restaurant and the exclusive right to sell our chicken on the southside. You got to have the balls to split if . . .”
Tango cut him off. “Look Carl, suppose I blow the deal pressing the peckerwoods on them addenda?”
Precious said, “Tango, we on the outside. The brother is on the inside. The brother knows. You got to trust the brother and play your hand like he runs it down.”
Speedy added, “Tango, you can’t blow the deal. The worst you can do is postpone it if you have to split today. They’ll come back to you on your terms in a week or so. Be strong and patient, brother, and get it all!”
Tango sighed. “I’ll play it strong Jones with those peckerwoods, right down the line!”
Precious said, “We’re almost there and it’s get-down time, Tango,” as he moved the limo through the raucous honk of Loop traffic.
At the end of the block, Precious pulled into the subterranean garage of a skyscraper office building. An attendant gave Precious a ticket at the entrance, then Precious cruised the limo through the cool murk to a parking space. He shut off the engine, started to get out.
Speedy said, “Easy, Jimmy,” as he glanced at his wristwatch.
Tango said, “That clock on the wall over there says we’re four minutes late.”
“We’re not late enough. Let ’em stew.”
Speedy extended his cigarette pack, flicked flame to their cigarettes, lit his own. He took a long draw, exhaled it against the windshield.
Precious said, “Carl, you sure got a hard-on for your boss. Hoorah for me and Tango.”
Speedy sighed and mused the con switch. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, Precious. And I don’t like feeling a need for revenge against Junior Hoffman. He’s not all bad, but he’s more bad than good. Rotten! It hurts me to betray him, to betray any man. I never have before in my long life, but he deserves it! Brothers, seeing young Samson all aglow with youth and great promise in the ring broke me up. You see, Junior is to blame for prostituting, ruining the youth, my dreams for a protege I love like a blood brother.
“I discovered Upshaw in a Harlem gym six years ago. As a former club fighter and trainer, I knew instantly he was a natural gem with the ballet moves of Sugar Ray and the stamina, heart and punch of Marciano. Well, I didn’t have the long bread it would take to develop him properly. You know, cut him loose from his bouncer gig in a bucket-of-blood bar that kept the grits and greens flowing for his ma and pa and ten younger brothers and sisters.
“Well, to make a short story shorter, I turned Upshaw over to a manager’s contract with Hoffman. In six months I buffed off Upshaw’s rough edges and created a dynamite fighting machine. Right away, Hoffman took us on a tour of Europe, Berlin, Rome and Paris, fighting and beating the best. I was puzzled at first why Hoffman insisted that Upshaw fight under aliases. I pleaded with him to let Upshaw’s name and talent burst out on the world so he could become a legit heavyweight contender with ranking and a shot at the world crown.
“Brothers, maybe you’ve guessed why Hoffman wanted Upshaw under the barrel of obscurity. He was fleecing rich sportsmen out of a fortune by betting ringer Upshaw could beat their favorite boxers, usually at bandit odds. Hoffman didn’t share a nickel of that fortune with Upshaw or me. The bouts were held in small clubs. The purses were miserly and Upshaw’s youth and dreams were drained away by those six years in Europe.
“A specialist, in Berlin, told me last year to retire Upshaw after he was knocked out in the last of three boys in three days. The doctor said Upshaw has an inoperable clot on the brain, and that a hard punch to the head could kill him. I’ve kept that a secret from Hoffman because I know he’d dump Upshaw like a broken toy. Now you know, brothers, why Junior is the only human in this world that I hate!”
Precious said, “Brother, I hate that snake too, just off what you told us.”
Tango said breathlessly, “Carl, you gotta take me to Europe and let me bankroll that action when Upshaw dives.”
“Wish you could, Tango. Now, let’s get up to Hoffman’s office and do the contract number.”
They got out of the machine and Tango embraced Speedy. “Carl, you’re a beautiful brother and I love ya!”
As they walked away, Speedy glanced at his watch, synched with the Vicksburg Kid’s, who waited. They took an elevator to the fifth floor.
The Kid, skillfully aged to an octogenarian complete with elegant black apparel, hearing aid and heavy gold-headed cane, peeped around a corner at them as they left the elevator and came down the corridor. He limped through a door stenciled STEVEN HOFFMAN AND ASSOCIATES, INTERNATIONAL FRANCHISE, INC.
Kid went to the desk of the receptionist and said, “Dear young lady, would you be so kind as to tell me whether the investment counselors Peake and Associates have an office on this floor? I don’t see well and I’m tuckered out.”
She smiled. “That firm is on the floor above, the sixth.”
“Thank you, dearie.”
He turned away, paused to light a cigarette at the frosted glass door, then stepped out into the corridor at the instant that he saw the shadows of Speedy and the others turn the corner. They nearly collided.
Tango glanced at the HOFFMAN stencil on the office door at the moment that Speedy exclaimed, “Mister Hoffman, sir, what a surprise!”
Kid embraced Speedy. “Carl, it’s good to see you.” Kid’s eyes twinkled mischievously through fake bifocal windows. “I dare say Steven was also surprised when I flew in last night to reorganize things a bit. I presume you and these gentlemen have business with him?”
Speedy said, “Why yes, we do have an appointment. Traffic made us late. These gentlemen, Joe Brice and Jimmy Allen, are the Precious Jimmy Chicken people. I hope Steven hasn’t gone.”
Kid said, “Glad to meet you, gentlemen,” as he shook hands with Precious and Tango. “I can assure you, Carl, that Steven is waiting. He froze me a sample of that chicken.” Kid bunched fingertips against his pursed lips. “Ah, gentlemen! Even reheated from the freezer, your chicken was a luscious benediction to my taste buds.”
Tango and Precious chorused, “Thank you, Mister Hoffman!”
Speedy took a step to lead them toward the door of the legitimate Hoffman firm.
Kid winked his eye at Precious and Tango and chuckled, “Carl, another surprise. I have come out of retirement!”
Speedy turned with a surprised face. “What!?”
Kid grinned. “I told you time and again, my retirement wasn’t permanent. I’ve taken over my old desk. Come with me to Steven’s office down the corridor.”
They followed him as he led the way.
Kid said, “Steven’s new responsibilities are contracts and market research.”
The group approached a door stenciled GLOBAL MARKET RESEARCH, INC. Kid stepped aside and swung open the door. Then they all stepped into a lavish reception room, muraled and airy beige-carpeted. A cute blonde receptionist smiled at them from behind a curved desk.
Kid said, “Carol, Mister Brice is here to see Steven.”
16
PLAY AND SCORE
They sat in chairs in Folks’ opulent office watching Tango squinting and frowning as he laboriously read the last of the four-page contract. He passed it to Precious, who started to read it. Tango leaned toward Folks, who sat bland-faced, Brooks Brothers-draped, behind his gleaming mahogany desk with prop family photographs of a ravishing blonde wife and tow-headed young children on the desktop.
Tango said, “I can’t sign these papers, Mister Hoffman, for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Folks smiled. “Mister Brice, it’s a standard f
ranchise contract with a . . . uh, tentative offer figure. How much do you want?”
Tango jutted out his rocky jaw. “I want a million!”
Folks winced. “A million dollars, Mister Brice?”
“You heard me.”
“How about a half million?”
Tango said, “You gonna take my chicken and make enough money to barbecue a wet elephant. I want a million!”
Folks turned to Kid, seated beside him. “What do you think, Dad?”
Kid’s face creased in apparent concentrated thought. After a long moment he shrugged. “A half million, a million, what’s the difference when you consider it’s just a ledger entry for the accountants and our tax people to square up.”
Folks picked up an intercom to summon his secretary, a junoesque brunette, from an adjoining office.
“Ann, please take this contract and the copy that Mister Allen has and change the amount to one million dollars.”
Shortly she returned and placed the papers on the desk before she went back into her office.
Folks said, “It’s a pleasure to do business with you, Mister Brice,” as he shoved the copy of the contract and a pen across the desktop toward Tango.
Tango squared up his heavy shoulders, crossed his steel cable legs, picked a mote of lint from his green suit. He stared unhappily at the contract with narrowed maroon eyes. Then he resolutely shook his glittery processed buffalo head. “Mister Hoffman, you ain’t got nothing there yet for me to Hancock.”
Folks and Kid exchanged puzzled and distressed looks.
Tango shot a look at Speedy, beaming proudly, and said, “You gonna have to call that girl back and let her tack on a pair of addenda in that contract. I got to keep my chicken shack and I gotta be the only one on the southside selling Precious Chicken.”
Folks shoved himself back from the desk with maximal aggravation on his face. “Ridiculous! I can’t do it! Mister Brice, a deal like that is unprecedented!”
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