Cigar Bar

by Dion Perkins

  Slick was still firing, but the gun was empty. He had a look of terror on his face as he continued squeezing the trigger. He prayed for just two more bullets. India lay cowering next to the living room table, blood on her cheeks from the shattered glass.

  “Get his fuckin’ ass!” Sal shouted to his one remaining goon.

  He lifted the man and slapped the crap out of Slick. The empty gun flew across the room, bouncing off of the table. Just as it hit the floor, one round fired.

  Sal and the man looked at each other and laughed. Sal yelled to Slick, “It’s not your fuckin’ day, you fuck!” Slick’s leg was hanging on by a couple of thin pieces of flesh. “Throw his ass in the trunk!”

  Sal walked over to the girl, bent down, and said, “You are something sweet to look at.” He placed his shotgun on the floor next to him so that he could move the hair from in front of the girl’s face. He took a colored handkerchief from his jacket, unfolded it, and wiped away the blood from her cheeks. India lay there in shock as Sal continued to silently wipe the blood away. In that moment, India knew her life was over. Then Sal stopped, smiled at the girl, got up, and walked out of the house.

  India didn’t know what to expect. Could they be right outside? Were they waiting for her to stand up? But then she heard car tires screech down the street. She stood to her feet, ran upstairs, and grabbed her clothes. She stopped running around and turned and stared at Slick’s bag. Her heart throbbed and a bit of fear came over her.

  She yelled, “Fuck it!” She leaped over and snatched the bag. She didn’t even put her clothes on. With just her panties on, she ran downstairs and jumped in her car.

  Her heart was pounding as she tore down the street, looking in her review mirror, expecting to see the men following her. Not knowing what they were driving, she assumed every car was theirs, so she swerved up and down each street until she felt she was safe, then off into the wind. Poof! She was gone.

  In the trunk, balled up in a small circle and crying, lay half the man that used to be Slick. Sal was pissed off. He hadn’t expected to lose two of his men, and one of them was little Pete. “Shit! Now I gotta go tell Teresa what happened. Fuck!” he yelled out while he punched the dashboard.

  Slick overheard this and he knew there was no way he was coming out of this alive, “Fuck!” he said. “My fuckin’ leg is half gone. I’m fuckin’ dead anyway.” Slick felt around the trunk, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. There was no light, so he just felt around, but found nothing. These guys were good. He was the only thing in the trunk. He remembered seeing something about a release switch. He searched frantically for anything that would open the trunk from the inside. By the time he found the switch and pulled it, the car was parked. He was so weak that he couldn’t even climb out of the trunk and just lay there.

  “Look at this shit here.” He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the trunk open. Sal was pissed as he thought about the children who would no longer have a father. He’d have to explain it to them one day. Rage took over. Sal hopped out of the car, grabbed the man’s mangled leg, pulled it halfway from the trunk, and began to slam the trunk repeatedly on the limp limb.

  Slick was in so much pain that he couldn’t even scream; he just lay there in shock while the enraged man took out his anger on what used to be Slick’s leg. Sal finally stopped slamming the trunk door on Slick’s leg and picked the man up and threw him to the ground.

  “You fuckin’ piece of shit! I have to go tell two little girls that their father isn’t coming home because of your dumb fuckin’ ass!” Spit flew all over the place as he spoke. Then he kicked the man, causing him to slide a couple of feet.

  Slick laughed. “Fuck you, bitch! You lucky I ran out of bullets, or somebody would be telling your fuckin’ family what the fuck went down!” He laughed hysterically.

  Sal was pissed. “Before I fuckin’ kill your fuckin’ ass, you’re gonna tell me about a pretty little Italian girl named Sherry. Tell me where the hell she is!”

  “What is that? What’s this shit about?” Slick laughed. “Oh shit, man. I thought you were the dudes looking for all the dope we stole. Damn! That’s some fucked-up shit.” Slick continued to laugh.

  “Shut the fuck up and tell me what I wanna know, you fuck!”

  “Yeah, I seen her. Damn, she was fine as a motherfucker too, with that long, brown hair and them hazel eyes. Damn, could she suck a dick! Mmmm,” Slick said. “She was off the chain! But after I finished with her fuckin’ cute ass, I dumped her.” Slick hacked up slimy, green boogers from the back of his throat and spit them right in the man’s face.

  Sal stood there, frozen. No one had ever disrespected him like that before. Before he realized what he was doing, Sal had cocked the shotgun and blew off Slick’s other leg. Boom! The sound of the gunshot shook the earth. Worse than that was the sound that Slick made when he looked down at what used to be his legs. He began to yelp loudly. “Ah! Ah! Ouch! Oh shit! Ahh!”

  His screams fell on deaf ears. They were in the scrap metal yard, where Tony Senior had his accident. Way in the back, the scrap yard sat on 100 acres of land. It was easy to get lost if you didn’t know the place.

  Slick realized that his screams meant nothing. He saw Sal lean on the car, light up a Marlboro, and pull out his phone. Slick just began to cry; he knew it was over. He began to scream. “Kill me, motherfucker! Kill me! Just fuckin’ kill me, motherfucker!” He grew louder and louder.

  Sal acted as if nothing was going on there. With blood and pieces of flesh all over his suit and face, he called Don Veto. Pissed off, he turned to the man, put his fingers to his lips, and whispered out loud, “Shhhh!!” as he walked away so he could talk to the don.

  “What’s the status, Sal?”

  “Don Veto, this motherfucker ain’t saying shit, so what do you want me to do? I mean, he already has no legs, and all he’s doing now is this.” Sal held the phone out so Don Veto could hear the man scream.

  Slick continue yelling. “Kill me, motherfucker!”

  “All right then, dump him!” Veto said. “Your buddy over in the police department got back to me. I think he has a few more names and addresses for me. Go check him out.”

  “Don Veto, you know I can’t be around that motherfucker too long.”

  “I know, that’s why you’re going to take your ass over there and take care of this. I don’t trust his fuckin’ ass either; something ain’t right. But, hey, I don’t want no bloodshed. I just want some answers. Somebody told me he was working with the feds, and if so, then we cut ties with him. That’s it! Capisce?”

  “No problem, Boss. I’ll take care of it.” Sal walked over to the screaming man, cocked his gun, and boom! The man’s head disappeared. “Put him in the compactor, and let’s get the fuck out of here!”

  Sal watched as the man’s body was put in a barrel and dissolved. The barrel was then put in a truck. In a matter of seconds, it was a cube, and added to the thousands of cubes in the lot. Sal picked his phone up as they drove out of the yard. “Hello, Teresa, I gotta come talk to you about Pete.” He hung up the phone as a tear rolled down his cheek. Sal was already in a foul mood, so he didn’t really want to be bothered with this pig. He hated cops with a passion. Any chance he had to do something to them, he would.

  But he promised Don Veto that he wouldn’t get into any shit. The car pulled up next to the undercover police car, and Sal rolled his window down. “What do you got?” he asked.

  The officer looked through the car. “Where is Don Veto? He was supposed to be here.”

  Sal said nothing. He looked the officer in the face, rolled his window up, and drove off. Sal called Don Veto. “Don, something is up. You’re gonna have to lay low. I’ll check it out.”

  “Why, what happened?” Don Veto asked.

  “He looked real fuckin’ jittery. Kept asking for you, saying you was supposed to be here for this. I just
rolled up the fuckin’ window and kept moving, but don’t worry, I had young Frankie stay behind. He’s gonna check out what the fuck’s going on for us.”

  “Good job! What do you think we could do next?” Don asked Sal.

  “Well, after picking up our recently departed friend, young Frank also observed a young lady in the house run outside and jump into a small two-door black Lexus with license plate seven-four-five-L-D-Y-P, New York.”

  “Good, good,” Don Veto said. “I’ll get somebody on it. What are you gonna do now?”

  “I gotta go talk to Teresa about Pete and then to Sally.”

  “Send them my condolences and let them know that they will be taken care of.”

  “Sure thing, Don.”

  After they hung up, Don Veto said a quick prayer, then he picked up the phone again. “Yeah, whenever you’re ready, send that message.” Don Veto was on the line with an outside contractor from Italy known as Il Fantasma, which means “The Ghost” in English.

  He was just as his name stated. He was small and moved fast and could jump from balcony to balcony without being noticed. He was at the house of Mr. Y as he scaled the roof unnoticed by the guards on hand. He soundlessly made his way into the upstairs window. He froze when one of the guards came right up on him but didn’t see him.

  The guard walked out onto the balcony, where Il Fantasma hid behind a curtain. Quietly, he walked up behind the guard and stuck a knife right in the back of his neck, covering the man’s mouth; he gently helped the man to the floor as not to make any noise. He slipped just inside and looked down the large staircase from the top floor. He saw another guard one floor below.

  He jumped down one flight and landed on the man’s neck. In one swift motion, he twisted and broke the knife off in the man’s body.

  As he walked, he was spotted by another guard, who was a bit too slow. Before the man could say a word, he was hit in the chest with two knives. He went down, but the guard wasn’t alone. The man behind him let off three shots that were heard throughout the house. The shots missed their target. The assassin dove to the left while shooting a gun of his own. He struck the guard in the head. It was on after that. Fantasma pulled out his guns. As they ran toward him, he laid the guards down one at a time.

  Downstairs, Mr. Y heard the commotion and ordered his guards back upstairs. Dawn heard the gunfire and jumped to her feet. She had been relaxing in the pool when all of the turmoil began. She quickly got dressed but didn’t know what to do next.

  All of a sudden, Mr. Y ran in, flanked by three guards. “Hurry up, let’s go!” he yelled at Dawn as one of his goons scooped her up and dragged her toward a secret door.

  They ran down a hidden tunnel and into a waiting car. Mr. Y looked at the girl, then through the back window, where he witnessed his house go up in flames.

  He began to curse in Ukrainian. His phone rang but Mr. Y he didn’t recognize the number. “Hello? Uh, who is this?” he asked in his heavy accent.

  “This is your worst fuckin’ nightmare, you piece of shit! That was just the beginning, you fuck! Do you fuckin’ hear me, motherfucker?” Don Veto began to get louder. “You better look over your shoulder twenty-four-seven because you never fuckin’ know where I’m comin; from, you piece of dog shit!”

  The man hung up. Mr. Y said something in Ukrainian. The car sped up. He turned to Dawn and said, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, my dear, but it seems I have more pressing issues. For some reason, I believe they have a lot to do with you.”

  “With me?” Dawn asked. “I don’t know nobody who could do some crazy shit like this.”

  “Well, from what I saw of your brother, he might be capable of such things.”

  Dawn replied, “I don’t think so. Here…” She dialed his number and handed Mr. Y her cell phone.

  “Hello?” Spazo said on the other end of the phone. “Dawn, this you, baby girl?”

  “No, this is Mr. Y. I have question for you.”

  Spazo cut him off. “Motherfucker, I’m only going along with this bullshit because you have my little sister! Do me a fuckin’ favor: Don’t keep calling me for info on when I get the shit! I’ll fuckin’ let you know, but for now, put my sister on the phone!”

  Mr. Y smiled. “I don’t believe he had anything to do with this.” Then he put his hand on his chin and said, “Well, this means that we have new problem. Oh, here, he’d like to speak with you.” He turned his back a little and used his cell phone to make a phone call while Dawn spoke to her brother.

  “Hello, bro,” she said into the phone.

  “Are you okay, Ma?” Spazo asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but this motherfucker’s house just fuckin’ blew up! All I heard was shootin’ and screamin’ and shit. Then he ran in and snatched me up. We snuck out the back. It sounded like a fuckin’ army raided them.”

  “Shit!” Spazo screamed. Ghetto and the crew turned to see what was going on. “Okay, listen. I’m working on getting you the fuck out of there. Just hold on, okay?” He hung up.

  Mr. Y had just gotten the message that young Flaco was on the run with all the money and guns and now this. “Well, I think someone is targeting all our people, so call them all. Collect everything and let’s find out who this is that has our stuff.” The car sped off down the road.

  Don Veto got a call from The Ghost. “All is good, Don Veto. What’s our next move?”

  “I wanna hit him where it hurts. Lay low for a while, and then I’ll get back to you. I have a villa in Martha’s Vineyard. Go up there and relax. I’ll send a car for you when I’m ready.”

  “Okay, Don Veto.”

  His plan was working. He removed Mr. Y from his home, and then he was going to slowly remove all of his businesses. He was checking on all his construction projects, and then he would break those down as well. Slowly but surely, he knew that he was going to tear the man’s life apart. He smiled as he lit his giant cigar and puffed while he sat in his office.

  CHAPTER 9

  • • •

  Time was slowly passing or so it seemed for Sherry. She found herself walking around Morningside Park in Harlem, her body hurting, no money on her, and needing to shoot up.

  The terrible thing about heroin was the body aches, pains, and loss of bodily function. Even her bones hurt. Heroin’s a physical high. Sherry and other addicts like her were willing to do whatever was necessary in order to mask the pain.

  She saw a couple in the park sitting in a corner doing something she couldn’t identify. She walked over to them, and when they saw her approach, they began to situate themselves. It appeared that a young woman was giving a guy head for crack.

  “It’s okay,” Sherry said. “Listen, I’m hurting and I need something. Please, can you help me?” The man looked at the woman and licked his lips.

  “Oh, really? I’ll let you smoke with us, but you gotta come back to the crib and have some fun. You down?”

  “Well, what are you gonna give me?” Sherry questioned.

  He seemed more intrigued as he rose from the park bench, pants still unbuttoned. To prevent them from falling, he had to grab them. “Damn,” he said, looking Sherry up and down. “Damn, you are a bad motherfucker.” He started to get himself together. He asked, “What’d you want?”

  “I need some dope,” she said. “Get me the dope and we good.”

  The man was elated. “Shit! Hell yeah, you can have whatever the fuck you want. Come on.” He snatched her arm and headed toward his car.

  The anonymous female alongside him was pissed off. “Wait! I’m not going nowhere! We were about to take a hit. What the fuck, man? Let me get mine!”

  “Bitch, you didn’t do shit. As soon as you took a hit, you started tripping the fuck out. You lucky I don’t whoop your ass for smoking all my shit, bitch. Shit, kick rocks. Come on, Mama, my car is right over here.”

  He ope
ned the door for Sherry and helped her into the car. He knew he was a lucky guy. Gotdamn he thought, I’m gonna tear this motherfucker up.

  He drove down 121 Street to the East Side. “Yeah, my boy Pedro, he got some good dope. I’ll swing by and get you a few bags. Don’t worry, you good with me, Mama.”

  He proceeded to pull out his dick. “Can I get a little sample?” he asked as he stroked with one hand and steered with the other.

  Sherry looked at his dick; it wasn’t big at all. She had been wandering the streets for so long without anything in her stomach, the sight of the tiny penis made her feel sick. In fact, it made her giggle a bit.

  He heard her and immediately got discouraged. “What the fuck? Did you just laugh at my shit?” Throughout his life, women would become angry with him because he was not well-endowed. The same reaction occurred with Sherry. Suddenly, the car came to a screeching halt. Her head almost hit the dashboard.

  “The fuck?!” Sherry questioned.

  “Listen, bitch, I don’t like when people laugh at me.”

  Sherry saw the man ball up his fist. A tinge of fear shot up her spine and struck her right in the brain. Sherry thought quickly. She remembered something Amber once said. “Don’t show weakness or these motherfuckers out here will eat you up.”

  “Hmm?” She looked at the man with an unknowing expression on her face. “What the hell are you talking about?” She saw the man ease up a little, his fist beginning to unclench. “I was laughing because I was thinking, maybe instead of me getting dope right now, I was wondering if you could buy me something to eat. I laughed because I thought you might laugh at me. My laugh just happened to pop out of my mouth when you popped your dick out of your pants is all.”

  Sherry leaned over and put the tiny penis in her mouth. She flicked it with her tongue. That’s all she could really do with it. As the man drove, he placed his hand on her head, and she continued to suckle his penis. He turned the light on so he could look down at the pretty girl and then quickly turned it off.