Cigar Bar

by Dion Perkins

  “What? She’s cute,” he replied and shrugged it off, turning back to his pasta, taking a forkful, and shoveling it into his mouth. “I tell you what,” he said, a mouthful of food, “that son of yours has been getting into a lot of shit over the years. I mean, hey, there’s no way in the fuckin’ world we’re gonna help that fuckin’ junkie prick!” The man laughed.

  Before he could finish, Don Veto was on top of him, punching and then choking the hell out of the young underboss from another family. Everybody grabbed for Veto as they attempted to pull him off of the young boy. Veto was strong and, as he let go, he caught the kid with a nice, hard right cross that put the man on his ass. “If you ever disrespect my family again, I’ll whoop your ass again! Fuck!”

  The young underboss sat on the floor, spit out some blood, and laughed. “Well, hell, I’m only speaking the truth.” Veto tried to lunge at him again.

  “Enough!” shouted Labruzzo the head of all of the families. He walked over to the underboss that Veto had punched and bitch-slapped the man across the face. “I will not tolerate the disrespect of one of your dons, not on my watch, not in my presence! Now get the fuck up, and get the fuck outside!”

  The man rose without a word, grabbed his jacket from the chair, threw a quick look at Veto, and walked out of the room. “Now, as for you, Veto, I want to apologize for the swift tongue of the young man, and the fact that he is my grandson doesn’t help. For that, I am sorry. But honestly speaking, Don Veto, what would you expect us to do in this situation?” He walked over to Don Veto and put his arm around him in an effort to calm him down.

  All the other dons stood as he and Veto walked from the room. He took Veto into the kitchen and put an apron on. He motioned for Veto to grasp another apron, but Veto was not in the mood to cook. He declined the invitation.

  The godfather understood. “Not everyone agrees with you. There was a complete violation, one that your son continued to make.” The godfather talked and motioned for the chef to give them the room. All of the cooks and chefs walked out of the back of the restaurant. The old man began to chop garlic while he spoke. “Now, the bad part of this is, he did most of these things while using our family’s name! Do you know how many police officers have come to me because they knew they couldn’t go to you because you have a bad temper, Don Veto?” He walked over to him and put his arms around Don Veto. “Veto, you are my son. The man you just beat up in there is my grandson, and the fact that you just beat up your nephew only proves my point.”

  “And what point is that, Pops? The point that we’re gonna let this prick shit all over our family?”

  “No! The point that we must find a different way to go after him! If we start a war in the streets with these guys, the FBI will shut all operations down in a matter of days!” He lifted his son’s head “No, Veto, what we need to do is find Tony. He’s missing and we don’t know if he’s dead or alive. What we do know is a lot of fuckin’ shit went down in the past week. We need to relax and connect the dots. You got me, Veto?”

  He didn’t wanna hear it. Veto solved everything with violence. “Veto, I keep telling you: We can’t always result to violence to solve our problems.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, look at what they did to your grandson.”

  The godfather shook his head. “I tried my best to get him straight, but the boy didn’t want to listen. For years we screamed at him and Tony, but they didn’t hear a goddamn thing! Now Tony is God knows where, and Frankie, oh God, Frankie!” The old man stumbled as Veto ran to his father to prevent him from falling to the floor.

  He sat the old man in the chair, grabbed another chair, and sat down in front of his father. The two mafia bosses sat in the back room, crying. This was a rare moment that no one would ever see or know about. The two men were not mafia men at that moment; they were father and grandfather mourning the loss of their children.

  Veto got up, walked over to the bar, and poured two scotches over ice. “I love you, Dad, I really do. I can’t let this shit go down like that. Nobody is going to come into my fuckin’ house and murder my family and expect to walk around freely, as if nothing ever fuckin’ happened, whether you’re with me or not.” He took a sip of his drink. “I hope that you do help me, Pops.

  I’m gonna find this guy, and I will not be talkin’ when we meet.” He knocked his drink off in one final swallow. He put the glass on the table, wiped the tears from his face, and walked to the door.

  His father stood up. “Don’t do this!”

  Veto looked back at his father, said nothing, dropped his head, opened the door, and walked out, Veto sat in the back of a black 2015 Yukon Denali flanked by four men each carrying a machine gun under their trench coats except for his right hand, Sal. Sal was real smooth but, like Veto, he cared nothing about anybody. Sal carried a Winchester SXP Extreme Marine Defender Pump-Action shotgun. It was chrome, with black handles and, once a week, Sal would get out his utensils, take his gun apart, and spray and clean it.

  He had a special rack built in to the middle of his seat like police officers had in their cars As he placed his gun there, he said, “We found out that Paulie is also looking for Tony. Apparently, Tony got his little sister hooked on heroin and had sex with her.”

  “What? Wait a minute. Tony did what?! Are you sure? That piece of shit, he fuckin’ left his father’s hospital room, and we haven’t seen him since. He didn’t even show up for the fuckin’ funeral!”

  “And get this: When Paulie left the hospital, some Mulligan tried to take him out and almost did. They killed three of his guys, And check this shit out. Come to find out, it was Tony with Frankie that took down this Ukrainian fuck, and they say he got away with maybe a quarter mil.”

  Veto chimed in. “Well, what the fuck is going on?” He reached into his pocket for his phone. “Hey, Steve, head on over to Paulie’s.”

  The man immediately turned the car around.

  Paulie’s phone rang but it was in the kitchen. The past week has been completely wild. He was too afraid to go outside, so he hired new muscle. Come to find out, Spazo and his goons raided each and every one of his spots and killed about 15 people. He didn’t know how to react. He wanted to keep an eye on his little sister, but he needed to get his business back up and running and take care of Spazo and Tony. He was so conflicted that he did nothing but stay at home and drink.

  Paulie sat on the bed in his bedroom, a shotgun next to him. His arm was in a sling because he had gotten shot;it didn’t even hurt because of all the other shit going on in his life.

  “Sherry,” he called out, “get in here!”

  Young Sherry walked into the room and stood in front of her brother. She had been a prisoner; not allowed to do anything the past few weeks.

  He stared at her with sorrow because he knew he had failed her. He couldn’t prevent the worst thing of all from happening to his little sister. As he looked at her, he saw it; he knew from all his years of selling heroin.

  “Sherry,” he said, tears in his eyes. She tried to avoid his stare. “You wanna do that shit again, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t, Paulie. You’re stupid! I’m sorry I did it the one time, and I will never do it again!” she said and ran back into her room.

  Paulie yelled, “You better fuckin’ not! Next time I’m gonna kill you! I won’t let you kill yourself!

  Sherry squirmed on her bed. She wanted to feel what she felt with Tony. Like a flickering lightbulb, images of Tony having sex with her entered her mind. “Ohh, ahh, oohh, ahh!” Without realizing it, she lay on her bed, rubbing her clit, moaning louder and louder. “Tony, I need you!” she said through moans of pleasure. She could have sworn that he was right in front of her, rubbing his manhood; he wasn’t there, however. She reached up for him while she rubbed small circles on her sensitive skin.

  One of the new bodyguards stood right outside her bedroom door. He heard her moaning and cracked the d
oor a little bit. He stood there like a dumb ass with his cock in his hand. He saw that young, beautiful girl and he’d lost all reason. He rubbed himself while looking through the crack in the door.

  The last thing he heard was, “Are you fuckin kidding me right now?” Then it was lights out.

  Paulie couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed: his guard masturbating as he stood at his sister’s door. He thought he was dreaming at first, but it was real. Paulie pulled out his gun and hit the man over the head with the barrel.

  As the man fell to the floor, Paulie opened his sister’s door and saw her writhing on the bed. Sherry leaped up when she heard the commotion. Paulie yelled, “Keep this fuckin’ door closed!” He turned to the man and picked him up. “You have to be the stupidest motherfucker alive!” Paulie laughed a shrill, evil laugh that shocked his men. No one had ever heard such a sound emanate from him.

  They watched Paulie drag the man to the basement. One of the guards opened the door, and Paulie threw the guy downstairs headfirst. As he walked down the stairs, he began to laugh while taking his belt off.

  One of the men touched him and said, “Hey, Paulie, listen… Stop, that’s my cousin.”

  Paulie froze, drew his gun, and shot him. Pop! Pop! The man slid down the stairs and died. “Don’t you ever put your fuckin’ hands on me!” Paulie screamed. “Who the fuck are these two?” he asked.

  Not one of the men spoke up. His men didn’t want to admit to being the one who referred them for the job as Paulie’s muscle. “Nobody wants to own up? Then I’ll find out myself!” Paulie lifted the pervert up and slammed him into a chair. He grabbed the man’s arms and tied them behind his back with the belt.

  He slapped the man awake. “Hey, wake the fuck up!” Slap, slap. “Wake the fuck up!”

  The man awoke, ready to rumble. “What the fuck?” He then realized that he was tied to a chair. “Hey, what the fuck is your problem, man?” he asked as the knot on his head became visible to all. His head had swelled from the hit that Paulie delivered. “You better release me from this fuckin’ chair!” the man screamed at Paulie.

  Paulie looked at the man with a half-smile, half-scowl. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He then stepped to the side and showed the man the body of his newly departed cousin.

  “What the fuck?” The man began to buck wildly, trying to break the chair.

  Paulie walked up to him and hit him again in the same spot on his head. “Oh, we got a live one here,” Paulie said, taking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. “Hey, Johnny, go get me that duct tape.”

  Paulie taped the man’s legs and torso to the chair. He doubled the tape around his wrists. He awakened the man, but this time, he did it with rubbing alcohol, pouring it over the guy’s wound.

  The man jolted awake, screaming with pain. Paulie wrapped the duct tape around his mouth. He took a chair and sat right in front of the man. “Now, listen,” Paulie said. He pulled a pocket knife from his pocket. “I’m gonna make this painful. Very fuckin’ painful! Why, you ask? I’m not sure if you remember, but you were standing at my little sister’s door fuckin’ rubbing your damn dick.” Paulie giggled. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!” Paulie poked the man’s legs with the knife several times.

  The man wanted desperately to scream but it was useless. Paulie repeatedly poked the man in his legs with the five-inch blade. The pain was intense. The more he stabbed, the more his legs began to resemble ground steak. There were chunks of meat and flesh protruding from his body.

  While all of this was going on in the basement, Sherry snuck out of her room. She walked on her tiptoes as if she was robbing the house. She peeked around the corner and saw that none of Paulie’s guards were around. Sherry snuck into the bedroom and opened the safe. She took a stack of hundred-dollar bills and silently crept out of the house. Her plan was to find Tony and give him everything he ever wanted, but she didn’t know where to go.

  CHAPTER 5

  Pretty Little Sherry

  • • •

  Breathing heavily, she ran up the block at full speed. She had been on the track team in college, and she won state the year before. There was no way the goons could catch her, even if they were in a car.

  This would be the first time that she ever went out on her own. Her brother always took care of her. No one else, except for Tony. She thought, Wow! The feeling drugs gave her was better than anything she had ever felt in her life. When Tony was between her legs eating, she couldn’t contain herself. She enjoyed the memory. Damn, I have to find that motherfucker!

  She began to think and act like an addict. She asked herself, Where would I go if I wanted to get high? To the ghetto! As far as she knew, Tony was afraid to come home. She figured that if she found him and she talked to her brother to let him know that their love was mutual, everything would be okay.

  Sherry vowed to find him, and, with Paulie’s money, she knew that it wouldn’t be a difficult task. At least that’s what she thought.

  Sherry took the F train to Jamaica, Queens, and got off at the 179 Street station. Sherry believed that she could find someone there who could help. What was she thinking? Only God knew what was on her mind. As she walked up the street, she noticed how busy it was. There were people everywhere she looked. Sherry had to go deeper than she originally thought in order to find the drugs that she sought.

  She remembered her friend Amber, who owned a car and lived fairly close to the area. Sherry pulled out her cell phone and called Amber.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me, Sherry. I’m on the corner of One Hundred Seventy-ninth Street. Can you come pick me up?”

  Amber laughed. “You’re funny. What’s up, girl?”

  “No, I’m really up here, and I need you to come pick me up,” Sherry insisted.

  “Yeah, okay. So, what’s really going on?”

  Sherry was getting frustrated because the girl didn’t believe her. Everybody in the area knew Paulie and his sister. No one dared screw with her.

  “Amber, listen to me!” Sherry yelled. “Hey, hold on,” she said and then walked to the corner. The driver of the Q43 bus had just parked, and Sherry asked if he could tell Amber their location.

  The man took the cell phone. “No problem. Yes, ma’am. We’re down here on One Hundred Seventy-ninth and Jamaica Avenue. Yep, okay now. Right.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Sherry tried to hand the kind bus driver some money. She pulled a big wad of cash from her pocket.

  The man rushed her, pulling her onto the bus. She was startled. He said, “Girl, don’t you ever pull that much money out your pocket like that! These folks round here will knock you in your head, girl! Now you go on over there and sit down. Tell your friend you’re on this bus.”

  “Okay, thanks!”

  Amber screamed, “I heard him through the phone, and I just rushed out the door.”

  Sherry had known Amber for a couple of years. They met during her first year of college. Amber quickly found out who her brother was and about his strict no-holds-barred-you-can’t-do-shit attitude. She was only able to go to the house to see Sherry. Now, to hear that she was here in Jamaica was quite unbelievable. She rounded the corner and pulled in front of the parked bus.

  Sherry thanked the driver and attempted to hand him money again. “I’m okay, sweetheart, but you make sure you don’t be pulling all that money out like that. Be careful!”

  As she walked over to her friend’s car, she gave one final wave to the nice man. She greeted Amber with a hug.

  “What the fuck is going on, Sherry?” Amber asked her friend. “I mean, I have never seen you outside of school, and then when I did see you, you had a bodyguard, and shit, as if you were the President’s daughter! Is everything okay, girl?” Sherry looked at Amber and a small tear ran down her cheek. “What’s wrong?” Amber asked again, holding her friend real tight.

>   “I need to find Tony.”

  “Tony? Who the fuck is Tony?”

  Sherry explained. “Do you remember when I told you about my neighbor?”

  “Oh, yeah right, Mr. Blue Eyes,” she said, a look of disgust on her face.

  Amber was also a beautiful girl. She had blond hair and light-brown eyes. Her body resembled that of a black girl’s: thick thighs, tiny waistline, and a decent bra size. From behind, many men assumed that she was a light-skin black girl. But she was a proud Irish girl with a tattoo of a sexy leprechaun displayed on her lower back. She knew that men would look at her ass, so she wanted them to know that she was Irish. She drove around in a blue Mustang. Her family also had money. She could have gone away to college but decided to stay close to home to attend the local school and become a psychologist.

  Amber asked, “What happened with Tony?” She wiped away her friend’s tears.

  Sherry went back to the beginning, back to the day when Tony met her coming home from school. She told Amber about the drugs, the sex, getting caught, everything!.

  Amber sat there with her mouth wide open. She had a bewildered look on her face that begged her to ask, “What the fuck did you just say?”

  Sherry said, “Amber, stop it! I need your help!”

  “Okay. First off, let me go back a minute. You just told me that you liked it when you got high, so you want me to help you find some more, as well as hang out with you so we can find Tony together? Is that right?” She looked at Sherry, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “Well, fuck it! I have nothing else to do this weekend. Why the fuck not?” Then she started the engine of her car and pulled off.

  “Okay, what will be our first move?” Sherry asked as she slapped and rubbed her hands together.

  Amber replied, “Well, first, let’s get the shit. I know this lady named Loraine. Everybody calls her Mom. She knows everybody! If Tony looks as good as you’re telling me, Mom definitely knows him. She is one of those rich, ugly women who pays young, pretty boys to service her. She also does dope.”