Cigar Bar

by Dion Perkins

  “One, make sure your people know that when I come in, I should be treated like I’m the fucking POTUS because, in this town, you might as well call me Barack! And, two, I need to use your back room maybe two or three times a week to meet up with some associates, you know, to talk some business. Why don’t you give me a tour of the back, Tony, so I can see how a real businessman can come to town and, in less than a damn year, turn nothing into something? I’d consider you an overnight success. Wouldn’t you say so?”

  Tony sat across from him and considered the request. Tony scanned the room to make sure there were no cameras in the area. “Sure, Judge, come on. Let me show you what I’m working with.”

  As the men walked, Tony pointed out the state-of-the-art items in the bar. The man admired Tony’s vision, but he had another opportunity in mind for him.

  He asked, “Tony, does this room have any cameras in it?”

  “No, not back here.” Tony replied. “This is all private.”

  “That’s good to know,” the judge replied. “I want you to consider me family from here on out. Anything that we can do for each other would be greatly appreciated, if you know what I mean.” Judge Matthews nudged Tony with his elbow. “I have a lot of very powerful friends. My friends could become your friends. Know what I’m saying here, Tony?”

  Tony just smiled. “I understand, Judge.”

  “Now listen here, I’m gonna need one small favor from you, Tony; that is, if you don’t mind.”

  Here it comes, Tony thought. Judge Matthews turned around and one of his associates handed him an envelope with $5000 inside. He handed it to Tony, smiling. Tony thought, If this guy only knew who my family was, he wouldn’t be wasting his time trying to bribe me.

  The judge continued. “I’ll be back here tomorrow with some friends, and, like I said, this can be considered a small donation to your business. Let’s just say I’m renting out some comfortable office space from you.”

  “Sure, whatever,” Tony said. He threw his hands in the air and added, “From now on, don’t hand me anything; just give all money to Becky over there.”

  “No problem, Tony. Hey, nice talking with you,” the judge said as he walked outside to his waiting limousine.

  “Becky, whenever any of his people give you money, I want you to take it down to Western Union,” Tony said. “Have it wired to my mother back in Queens, but make sure it’s done anonymously at the one across town. There can be no trace back to me.” Tony was emphatic.

  “I got it, baby,” Becky said.

  She had really turned out to be a winner. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was a great cook and excellent in bed. Tony hadn’t realized her worth until the fog was completely lifted from his drug haze.

  Becky was also rider; she handled a lot of business when he was unable to. Tony knew she was good for him and the business.

  “Fuckin’ dumbass Judge!” Tony said, going back to his work. Just then, his phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Tony, what up, man? You ready for me, dawg?”

  “Flaco, what up, my man? How you doin’?” Tony said.

  “How am I doin’? I’m fucked up ever since those motherfuckers came and destroyed my business looking for your ass! Then those Ukrainian fuckers shot at me and shit. Man, I been sleeping in cars and shit. But, Tony, I never told anyone about you,” said Flaco.

  “Thanks, man,” replied Tony. “I still don’t know what fuckin’ black guys would be looking for me, but I do thank you for not giving them my number.”

  “I do owe you,” said Flaco.

  “Okay, now check this out,” Tony said. “Come on down to Seattle, but don’t tell anyone where you’re going.” Flaco listened intently. “I can use you as a bar manager; you just gotta promise me you won’t bring that Bronx shit with you.”

  “No problem, Tony. I love you, brother, and I promise I won’t let you down.” Flaco said. “I’ll be there tomorrow. And, Tony, thanks again, man.”

  Tony replied, “No problem. Make sure we grow this thing instead of tearing it down.”

  He hung up the phone and took a look around his establishment. In less than a year, he had completely turned Joe’s into a place worth taking pride in. But now, to his great surprise, a gangster wanted a piece. It was worth noting that this was no ordinary gangster; he was also a highly respected judge.

  Tony considered the benefits. “I guess it’s better to have a judge on your squad. But then again, having a killer like Flaco on my side would also come in handy,” he said to himself. He figured that Flaco would serve as that extra protection he needed.

  “Hey, Tony!” one of the waitresses called out. “Have you seen this shit? It made national news.” Tony and a few employees walked over to the TV and listened to the broadcast.

  “In national news, the New York City Police Department has discovered a serial killer is on the loose. He is known as The Ink-Pen Killer. It seems there are at least eight confirmed attacks at this time. Most of his victims are young, drug-addicted girls, some of whom have been working as prostitutes. He has been dubbed The Ink-Pen Killer, as his victims have been found with satanic verses written on their skin with a hot pen. Chief William has more on the findings.”

  They cut to a police officer standing behind a podium. “We believe all of his victims died from the pain inflicted on them. It also appears that they were sexually assaulted. Due to the nature of their professions, most of the girls aren’t reported missing. It poses a grave challenge to find any leads until a body is found. Police have stepped up patrols in the high-crime areas, where prostitutes and addicts tend to frequent. We ask that if you have any information or should know someone close to you who has gone missing, please call Crime Stoppers at once.”

  Tony turned away from the TV and said, “Okay, everybody, back to work.”

  He hated seeing things like that going on. What he didn’t know was pretty Sherry was one of the killer’s victims.

  He walked to the back office he had specially built. The place was immaculate, with modern mirrors everywhere and brown leather. Tony had a house jazz band that fell into his lap early on. He was able to book some major stars on Saturday nights. This Saturday he had The Whispers coming to perform.

  He sat down at his desk and looked through the two-way mirror in his office. If he only knew the chaos that he’d created in New York. Because of him, young Sherry was on the streets and in death’s hands. Tony had no clue how he had destroyed her life. What he did know was that Paulie and the Ukrainians possibly wanted his head. They wouldn’t stop until they found him. He also knew that his cousin Frankie and the girls were dead. He didn’t know that Dawn was okay and was just being held hostage.

  His phone rang again. As Tony picked it up, he looked at Becky in the lounge doing her thing. He watched her ass sway and her large breasts jiggle as she sauntered back and forth across the floor. He started getting horny.

  “Hello, Tony. I am the rep for The Whispers.” Tony’s lurid thoughts of Becky quickly dissipated at the sound of the rep’s voice. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but they won’t be able to perform tonight. We’re sorry,” said the man on the phone.

  Tony stood up out of his chair. “What? Wait, do you know how many fucking tickets we’ve sold?!” he yelled into the receiver.

  “Like I said, we’re so sorry,” answered the rep apologetically. Then he hung up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Tony said, hanging up the phone. “Fuck!” He screamed out, “Becky!”

  Becky came running in. “What’s going on, Tony?”

  “We have no act for tonight; they just canceled. I have an inkling it has something to do with that damn judge! Fuck! What am I supposed to do now?” Tony got a little fidgety and agitated.

  Becky knew Tony well and that meant she knew the perfect way to calm him down. She walked over to the stereo
, pushed play, and then shut the door.

  Guy’s “Tease Me Tonight” began to play through the speakers. Becky slowly walked over to Tony and put her finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” she said, dancing seductively to the beat of the song. Becky pushed him back in his chair. By the time Teddy Riley sang, “Turn the lights down low,” she had swallowed him whole. She slowly moved up and down, tracing the edge of his penis with her tongue. Becky continued to tease Tony, making him feel like he never had before. He tried to stand, but she pushed him back into the chair and scratched his chest with her nails really hard.

  Although it hurt, she had him right back down her throat, so he had quickly forgiven her. Tony was at Becky’s will. He moaned as she went up and down. As that sensation came over him, he exploded down her throat. Like a champ, she graciously accepted it all.

  Tony fell back in the chair, spent. Becky got up and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, baby.” She kissed him on the forehead and walked into the bathroom to gargle.

  Tony couldn’t move. He smiled and said, “Damn! I’m glad I met you.”

  Saturday Night

  The house was packed. As usual, Tony stayed in the back, never mingling with the crowd. Lowkey was how he always played. He was content being able to observe from his office while he counted receipts.

  He watched as the crowd paid close attention to Becky in her long, sequined evening gown. On the stage, in front of a packed house, she was gorgeous.

  “Welcome, everyone! I have a bit of bad news. Unfortunately, the mighty Whispers will not be here tonight.”

  The crowd hissed. “Boo! Ah, man!”

  Like a consummate professional, Becky took control of the situation. “Settle down! Settle down, please! A friend of mine just happened to be passing by the club, and I asked him if he would stop in and do a set for us!” Suddenly, the lights went off. The audience heard the first few bars of the popular Stevie Wonder song “That Girl.” Then Becky, said, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the incredible Stevie Wonder!”

  Stevie walked out to a roaring crowd and was guided to the piano and microphone. He belted out the words, “That girl thinks that she’s so fine, that soon she’ll have my mind. That girl thinks that she’s so smart, that soon she’ll have my heart…”

  The crowd was jamming as Tony danced behind the glass. Becky went to the back and joined him.

  Tony looked out at the judge, sitting front-row center with a new young Latin girl as his date. Hanging out with pretty, young women was his thing. Tony shook his head. Then he saw something. A man walked up to the judge and said something to him. Judge Matthews’ face had fear written on it. He got up and swiftly exited through the front door, leaving behind his date and his coat.

  “Who’s that man with the judge?” Tony asked as Becky looked on.

  “You mean Charlie? Yeah, Charlie’s the head of a not-so-nice group of young thugs that terrorize this area, but how they know him I couldn’t tell you, baby.”

  They sat back there. It amazed him how she was able to reach out to all these people. She never told him how she knew. Becky was the major reason for their success.

  “You know, I wanna tell you something,” Tony said, pulling Becky up into his arms. “If it wasn’t for you, none of this shit would be happening.”

  She smiled. “No, you’re the one who decided to stay off that bullshit. I was here to make sure you were okay.”

  Then they kissed while the crowd jammed to Stevie. He believed that his world, for that moment, was okay.

  But all good things must come to an end.

  The Next Morning

  Tony drove down to the airport in his black Lincoln. Flaco was already there. He simply wanted to scoop him up and leave, trying not to be seen. When he pulled up, Flaco was out there talking to some young girl. He didn’t even see him.

  Tony blew the horn. Flaco turned and said, “Oh shit! My bad, Tony. This is…” Before Flaco could finish the introduction, Tony rolled up the window and pulled the car up a few feet. Flaco ran up to the car. “Yo, what the fuck, man?”

  “I told you I don’t know anybody here and I don’t want to.” Maybe this was a bad idea, Tony thought. “Hey, get the fuck in!”

  Flaco trotted back, got his bags, and threw them into the trunk. He exchanged numbers with the girl and sat in the car.

  Tony knew at that point. “Shit!” he said. “I have the perfect face for this thing already, Becky.” He looked at Flaco. “I can’t make him security.” Tony knew that nobody would be intimidated by Flaco, so he figured he’d let Flaco run the bar, hoping that he wouldn’t screw it up.

  “Tony, my man! What up?”

  “Danny, listen up. This shit here is serious. I’m building something, but I’m way in the backfield, so you can’t come down here with that Bronx bullshit. We’re on a different level now. Cool?”

  “Yo, no problem, Tony. Damn! You never called me Danny before. I know this shit is real,” Flaco realized.

  “Just keep your head down, do your job, and we won’t have any problems,” Tony insisted.

  “I got you! Chill, nigga! Fuck!”

  As the Lincoln left the airport and entered the highway, neither man noticed a taxi with the young girl in it had pulled right behind them.

  “Yo, Spazo.”

  “Hey, Sasha. What up, Mama?”

  “Yeah, I got a tail on your boy here. He just jumped into a Lincoln. There’s a white boy driving, but I don’t know if it’s your white boy. We took a plane out to Seattle, Washington. I’m gonna stay as close to him as I can, then I’ll get back to you.”

  “Cool. Thanks, baby girl.” Spazo hung up the phone, then turned to Ghetto, “Yo, I think we got this motherfucker, G. That Flaco motherfucker took a plane to Seattle! Sasha is on him.”

  “Good, my nigga. I’m tired of not doing anything. It’s been almost a fuckin’ year and this fuck still has Dawn and we ain’t made no gotdamn moves! Let’s fuckin’ bounce!” Spazo called Mr. Y. “Yeah, look it, I have some info for you. We think your boy is out in Seattle. I’ll let you know more when I have this motherfucker in front of me,” he said.

  “Very good.”

  “Yo, tell my sister I’m comin’ to get her, and then you and I have some unfinished business,” he said.

  “You see, that’s why I like you,” Mr. Y said. “Even though I have your balls in a tight grip, you still find the time to threaten me. Good. Very good for you. If this thing works out, maybe we can work together.”

  “Fuck you!” Spazo said. “Just let my fuckin’ sister go!”

  “How about this? You come to my office and we talk business now. How about I bring your sister along?”

  “Wait, what the fuck? You tryin’ to pull some shit?” Spazo inquired.

  The Ukrainian mobster responded with, “No shit being pulled. Please, come meet with me, Mr. Spazo.”

  “Okay, we’re on our way. Where do you want to meet?”

  Spazo got the address and then said to Ghetto. “Listen, I don’t fuckin’ trust this nigga, G! What should we do?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have a couple of our people set up around the perimeter a couple blocks away. If some shit jumps off, cool. And you know I always got a backup.” Ghetto showed him the small .38 tucked in a secret pocket in his jeans.

  “Cool,” Spazo said. Spazo pulled up to the location with Ghetto. It was a small restaurant that served Ukrainian dishes only. They could tell by the appearance of the place that the only customers they had were the old-school gangsters who sat out front.

  When they walked in, they were met by two huge bodyguards who patted them down and relieved them of their weapons. One man pointed to the rear of the restaurant. As they walked to the back, they saw Dawn seated at a table with Mr. Y. In front of them was a full table of delicious-smelling food. Dawn was digging in; she had a sample of eve
rything on her plate.

  With a thick accent, Mr. Y said, “Please, sit and eat!” When she saw her brother, Dawn ran up to him and hugged him tightly. The guard was about to stop her, but Mr. Y held his hand up and stopped the man.

  “So, here we have borscht; it’s how Americans would call soup. We have varenyky; it is like dumpling and is very good. Here we have salo. And, ah, my favorite: holubtsi; it is stuffed cabbage.”

  Spazo looked at him. Ghetto was looking at the food. “Shit, I don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a plate and piling it high with scrumptious food.

  Spazo said, “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Y?”

  “I like! Right to business. Please, have seat.” Mr. Y was cordial. “Here it is. We have figured it all out. We understand that you have maybe found this guy for us. Good. Very good. But now, you see, we have new problem.” Then the men had shotguns put in their faces.

  They threw their hands in the air. “What the fuck?”

  Mr. Y walked around the table. “You see, I know it was you who went to the guy’s house, and it was you who stole all my money and my guns!”

  “Wait! What? Oh shit! We didn’t know it was your shit! I swear we didn’t. Fuck!” Spazo said, not with fear, but with confidence and smugness, as if to say, “So what the fuck about it?” Ghetto just kept on eating. “You know what? Fuck this! You got us. You gon’ take us out? Hurry the fuck up and get it done, but let my sister get the fuck out of here!” Spazo said, pushing the man’s shotgun out of his face. “Because I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

  “Relax!” Mr. Y said, ordering his men to lower their weapons. “You’re all free to go, but I need you to finish up something for me. I need you and your friend here to take three of my men with you to find this man. He is the one I am looking for.”

  When Spazo saw the picture, he froze. “Wait, this is the motherfucker that was with Frankie!” He looked at his sister. “You were with this motherfucker? He had just bought, like, five grand worth of shit from me. So, wait…he was with Frankie! Oh shit! Gotdamn! A lot of shit is starting to come together.”