Party Time_Raving Arizona

by Shaun Attwood

  ‘Did you enjoy that?’ I ask.

  ‘Are you kidding me? I’m never ordering a prostitute like that again!’

  Chapter 43

  A few months later, when it seems like my ability to make money in the stock market and the bliss of matrimony – Amy having fitted the house with an S&M room complete with a sex swing – are never going to end, I’m watching TV in the living room when a news report attracts my attention: a shoot-out at a house, neighbours in uproar. The house looks familiar, but I can’t place it. My pager beeps.

  A voicemail from Cody: ‘Fuzzy’s house got shot up. It’s headline news. You’d better get your ass down here.’ Fuzzy sells my Ecstasy and manufactures LSD.

  I pack a bag and speed to a safe house Cody oversees in Mesa. He says Skinner tried to rob 50,000 hits of LSD from Fuzzy.

  ‘Why would our top salesman try to jack our LSD chemist?’ I ask.

  ‘Dunno. But something needs to be done about Skinner. Don’t forget, he was smoking crack and eating outta dumpsters before you made him what he is today. Word on the street is he’s gonna kidnap Gangsta Dan with his black gangster crew. Revenge for Gangsta Dan ripping the piercings off his face.’

  ‘I thought I had everyone working together peacefully. Violence like this just attracts the cops. I’ll have a word with Skinner. He always listens to me.’

  ‘You need to have more than a word with him.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  ‘This has come about ’cause you moved to T-Town.’

  ‘A power play?’

  ‘Don’t underestimate Skinner’s ambition. If it’s a power play against you, I will gladly hunt him down and shoot him, and his body will never be found.’

  ‘Cody! I appreciate the gesture, but that’s not necessary,’ I say, shocked that he’d murder someone for my benefit, yet feeling an uneasy sense of gratitude that he’d go that far.

  ‘I was suicidal when I met you. My plan was to join the military, get access to bombs and blow myself up with the corrupt fucking politicians in Washington. Working for you has structured my life and I will always love you for that.’

  ‘I really appreciate that, Cody. I love you, too, bro.’ We hug. ‘But we don’t need to be knocking anyone off. Even if he disappears without a trace, there’d be a police investigation. And we’ve got Mari to think about. She’s helped us out a lot, and Skinner is the father of her baby. But you’re right, this is way more serious than I thought. Thanks for doing the homework on this one. Now that I have a better understanding, I’m going to think it over.’

  For the next few days, I can’t concentrate on the stock market. If I threaten Skinner, he might turn against me. Come after me with his south-side gangsters. If G Dog threatens him, it might get out of control. Don’t want anyone getting shot. But, if Skinner’s resorting to guns, how do I fight fire with fire? No. We’re not the New Mexican Mafia. Use diplomacy. Win him back over. Maybe it’s just a cry for attention. Charm him. But then he might think I’m soft. Shit. What to do?

  Checking my portfolio online, I’m grappling with the situation when Wild Man calls: ‘I need to leave England in a hurry, la’. Can you get me a ticket to America right away?’

  Perfect timing. Wild Man will sort Skinner out. ‘How soon?’

  ‘Like right away right away.’

  ‘What did you do this time?’

  ‘I’d rather not say over the phone.’

  ‘I hear you. It’s probably just as well that I don’t know. I’ll do it, but what about the last time I got you a bloody ticket? I spent a small fortune and you never even got on the plane!’

  ‘I’m getting on the plane this time. No need to worry about that, la’.’

  Reassured by his serious tone, I say, ‘With you banned from the US, I’ll have to fly you to Canada. I’ll send someone to drive you across the border.’

  Wild Man arrives at the Phoenix Greyhound bus station in thick English sports clothes. I drive to Skinner’s, explaining the situation.

  ‘Sounds like we can’t trust this Skinner,’ Wild Man says. ‘If he did shoot Fuzzy’s house up, obviously we’ve got to give Skinner the iron fist.’

  ‘But Skinner’s my top salesman.’

  ‘Business is business, but you can’t take disrespect. If you take disrespect, it leads to anarchy. I can’t wait to have a fucking word with this Skinner,’ Wild Man says, clenching and unclenching his hands.

  ‘Hold on. Listen, I just want unity restored.’

  ‘If you’ve got two of your money-makers going up against one another, at the end of the day, you’re gonna lose money.’

  ‘I still think we can win him over. He’s heard loads of stories about you, like the time you put Gangsta Dan in check. I think your presence alone will scare him back in line. The other thing is, you haven’t met his girlfriend. Mari’s truly loyal.’ I park.

  Mari answers the door, holding the baby, smiling. ‘Come in.’ Spotting Wild Man stiffens her expression.

  ‘This is Wild Man,’ I say. ‘He just got here.’

  In the living room, Skinner sees Wild Man and drops his grin; his eyebrows leap and anxiety flickers across his face, but he quickly composes himself and beams. ‘Big brother!’

  I hug Skinner. ‘We’ve got an even bigger brother now.’ I nod at Wild Man.

  Wild Man hugs Skinner and joins me on the sofa. For about ten minutes, we entertain them with the story of how Wild Man was smuggled into America. All done, I turn to Skinner and ask in a relaxed way, as if it’s an afterthought, ‘What’s the deal with you and Fuzzy?’

  ‘He tried to get me shot!’ Skinner says, scratching an ear.

  Here we go. Bullshit justification. ‘How come?’ I ask, faking concern.

  Straightening his body up, Wild Man expresses friendly curiosity.

  ‘I put an order in for some LSD. Fuzzy’s being real sketchy with me, so I took an armed crew over there.’

  ‘Why would you take an armed crew when we’re all supposed to be working together?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, it’s a good job I did, ’cause wait till you hear what happened.’

  ‘I can’t wait to hear this,’ Wild Man says.

  ‘We get there, and we don’t know it but Fuzzy’s got snipers with AK-47s positioned at the back of the house. We try to do the deal. I ask him to show me the acid, and he asks to see the money, and next thing there’s a big argument, and then, pop-pop-pop, guns are going off all over the place.’

  ‘That’s crazy!’ I say, hoping to encourage him.

  ‘Yeah, my homey, T, opened up with a shotgun and bullets were flying everywhere. Lucky nobody got smoked. The neighbours were lucky, too. It showed on the news how the bullets went through like three or four of Fuzzy’s neighbours’ houses.’

  ‘It was on the news?’ Wild Man asks.

  ‘All over headline news the night it happened,’ Mari says.

  ‘We don’t need that kind of heat,’ I say, shaking my head.

  ‘You better speak to Fuzzy, then,’ Skinner says.

  ‘We intend to,’ Wild Man says, narrowing his eyes.

  Skinner goes upstairs to get money from a safe.

  I whisper to Mari, ‘What’s really going on with him?’

  ‘To be honest, I don’t know. He’s been smoking a lotta sherm, staying up for days, stinking and going off on tangents. He gets all fucked up and he has to be out doing stuff, robbing, trying to mix shit into drugs, making bunk shit to sell.’

  ‘What do I need to do to get him back in line?’ I ask.

  Before Mari can answer, Skinner reappears. He hands over two large Manila envelopes containing $5,000 each.

  I stand up. ‘Little brother.’ We hug. ‘Good job on such high sales.’ Pointing at Skinner, I turn to Wild Man. ‘This is my number-one producer right here. Top dog!’

  We all smile.

  ‘Big brother and biggest brother,’ Skinner says proudly. ‘I’ve got some inside info for you on one of your boys.’

  ‘
What?’ I ask.

  ‘Fish is selling pills for Sammy the Bull’s crew.’

  ‘No way!’ I say.

  ‘Fish!’ One of Wild Man’s eyebrows arches up to the danger level and stays there, quivering; the other remains fixed in place.

  ‘You want me to deal with Fish?’ Wild Man asks.

  I turn to Skinner. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yup,’ Skinner says.

  ‘Poor Fish.’ Wild Man grins.

  We hug them and leave.

  On the road, I say to Wild Man, ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘I don’t like him. We can’t trust him.’

  ‘What did you think of his story?’

  ‘I believe that as much as I believe Russia needs more vodka.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘I can do him in. Make an example.’

  ‘I think that’ll make matters worse. From the look on his face, I reckon you being here is enough.’

  ‘If you don’t put him in check now, he might try other shit.’

  ‘That’s a chance I’m prepared to take.’

  ‘What about Fish?’ Wild Man asks.

  ‘He’s been acting sketchy lately. I can easily find out through other sources. If he is selling to Sammy the Bull, then he’s all yours.’

  I rent a hotel room for Wild Man to meet Fuzzy and his roommates. Fuzzy is heavyset, with bright-blue hair, big friendly eyes, ears pierced with black studs and wearing massive fluffy trousers. I tell them what Skinner said.

  ‘Skinner’s so full of shit. He came over to jack me.’

  ‘That’s what I think, too, after hearing Skinner’s version,’ Wild Man says, nodding.

  ‘I only had the guys with the AK-47s stationed ’cause I knew Skinner was up to something. He didn’t bring any money. When I asked him for the money, T pulled out a shotgun and started blasting. That’s why we opened up with the AKs. I didn’t want no shoot-out in my house or to be on the news. The neighbours are angry. We’re gonna have to move out now.’

  Wild Man tilts his head towards me. ‘I’m telling you, Shaun, we need to keep a close eye on Skinner. If he thought he could gank Fuzzy just ’cause you moved to Tucson, who knows what he’ll try next? But he might start thinking differently if I break one of his fucking kneecaps.’ Wild Man’s belly-laugh frightens the ravers.

  ‘There’s still no need for that,’ I say. ‘I’ll get him back in line.’

  More ravers arrive and confirm that Fish is selling for Sammy the Bull. I summon Fish over and tell Wild Man he can deal with him however he likes.

  Fish arrives, shoulders hunched, staring at the floor, with apprehension in his voice. To put him at ease, I get him high on Ecstasy. We chat for two hours. He lightens up, settles in, just like old times. Throughout the charade, I’m braced for Wild Man to broach the subject of Sammy the Bull, afraid of what he might do but in awe of his ability.

  ‘We’re gonna get going,’ Fish says, standing up to leave with two companions.

  I get up and hug them, as does Wild Man.

  Perhaps Wild Man’s going to let them go. Deal with it another time. Maybe he wants to talk to me first.

  When all three are lined up by the door, Wild Man leans to one side and springs up with a punch that hits them in the face one after the other – bop-bop-bop! – toppling them like bowling pins.

  ‘That’s what happens when you stab Shaun in the back, Fish!’ Wild Man yells.

  On the carpet, they wriggle and groan. Fish fingers a mouth leaking blood. One rubs a jaw, the other an eye.

  ‘How could you go behind our back with Sammy the Bull when we’ve had your back for years?’ Wild Man yells.

  No answer.

  Staring at his left hand, Wild Man growls, ‘My knuckle’s fucking bleeding with a tooth fucking stuck in it.’

  ‘Fucking hell, la’,’ I say, shocked to see Wild Man extract a tooth from his hand.

  ‘This is your fucking fault, Fish!’ Wild Man opens the door, grabs Fish, drags him outside and throws him down the stairs. Fish tumbles, yelping, his head banging against cement and metal railing. Wild Man turns and glares at Fish’s friends, who leap up and run. They grab Fish and haul him off.

  Minutes later, the phone rings. ‘This is the manager. We’ve had a report of a disturbance in your room.’

  ‘I’m sorry about the noise,’ I say. ‘I’m about to send everyone home.’ Not wanting Wild Man to get arrested on his first day back, I tell everyone to leave, except for Wild Man and my bouncer Rossetti. The danger seems to pass.

  Fifteen minutes later, someone knocks on the door. Sensing trouble, I hope it’s ravers. Through the peephole, I see the manager with a young Tempe police officer in a smart dark-blue uniform. The same cop G Dog held at gunpoint! My heart bounces. ‘It’s the five-o,’ I say quietly. ‘You two go fake like you’re asleep in the bedroom.’ They get on the bed. I take a deep breath and open the door.

  The manager and cop are staring angrily, impatiently, unsettling me further. ‘Can I come in?’ the cop says, sniffing for marijuana.

  ‘I’ve sent everyone home. There’s no need for you to come in.’

  The cop gazes beyond me, surveying the room in the hope of spotting drug paraphernalia. ‘If you’re not gonna give me permission to come in, then I’m gonna seek permission from the manager.’

  ‘There’s no need for you to come in,’ I say. ‘Everyone’s gone home.’

  The cop turns to the manager. ‘Do I have permission to go in to inspect for property damage?’

  ‘I give you permission,’ the manager says. ‘We’ve had noise complaints.’

  The cop barges in, knocking me against a wall.

  Shit! He’s going to find Wild Man. He’d better not run Wild Man’s name.

  He whips out a light and shines it in every cranny, his eyes tracking the beam for evidence of drug use. He picks through an ashtray like a hobo hunting down a fag end and combs through the trash. ‘Was this an alcohol party or were drugs involved?’

  ‘Alcohol party,’ I say.

  Smirking, he raises his brows. Giving up on the front room, he opens the bedroom door.

  Oh shit! Here we go.

  His eyes latch onto my friends.

  He’s going to see how high they are and call backup.

  ‘I thought you said you’d sent everyone home. Who are these two?’

  ‘They were so tired, I told them they could crash here.’

  He shines his light on them.

  Stay still. Stay down.

  Wild Man’s head pops up. ‘I’m trying to sleep here. Got work in the morning. What’s going on, mate?’

  The accent. The big bloodshot eyes. He’s a dead giveaway.

  The cop contemplates Wild Man with a distracted look, as if remembering something.

  Oh no!

  Wild Man’s face drops out of sight.

  The cop disappears into the bathroom and bangs things around. He re-emerges. ‘There doesn’t appear to be any damage. Keep the noise down. I don’t wanna come back.’ He leaves with the manager, abruptly, as if up to something.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Rossetti asks.

  ‘Something’s up,’ I say, rushing to the window. I watch them walk away and confer outside the reception. The cop gets in his car and drives away but parks down the road.

  ‘He pretended to go and stopped,’ I say. ‘Pack your shit up! We’re leaving.’

  As we grab our things, more cop cars join the first.

  ‘They’re gonna raid the room,’ Rossetti says. ‘Let’s get the fuck outta here!’

  I leave in such a hurry, I walk into a cactus. Feeling a burning sensation, I see spines stuck in my leg and blood leaking out. I drive off, taking a detour around the cops, aware that my months of researching the stock market in peace are over.

  Chapter 44

  After taking our morning naked swim, Amy and I frolic in the pool.

  ‘When my parents and sis get here, we need to be on our best behaviour. My craz
y relationships caused them all kinds of stress in the past. Can we act normal for a few weeks?’

  ‘Does that mean absolutely no drugs?’ Amy asks, raising her brows.

  ‘’Fraid so. A break’ll do us good.’

  ‘But I love having sex on drugs,’ Amy says.

  ‘I know. Me too.’

  ‘If you can do it, I can do it,’ Amy says, splashing me.

  ‘Together, we can do it!’ I say, splashing back, making her shriek.

  ‘Perhaps we’d better do a load of drugs before they get here?’ Amy wraps her arms around my neck, clings and we kiss.

  ‘Good idea. We’ll party our arses off, then go cold turkey. I want to show them a good time. Let them enjoy the house. Take them fine dining.’

  ‘We should take them to the Gold Room, the Tack Room,’ Amy says, swimming away.

  ‘And our favourite: Anthony’s. I’ll pretend I’m going to order one of their most expensive bottles of wine.’

  While excited about the visit, I worry about my family finding clues to my other life. I love my parents and sister but doubt I can go for weeks without drugs.

  They arrive at the airport jet-lagged, but as soon as they spot us they beam. We hug in the lounge and chat on the drive home. Approaching Sin Vacas, the talk stops as they gaze at the grandeur of the houses.

  I take a winding road up and down hills. ‘There’s our house!’ I say, pointing ahead.

  ‘The size of it!’ Karen says.

  Inside, they wander from room to room, gasping at the decor.

  ‘We’ve seen photos of the house, but the reality is something else,’ Mum says.

  ‘So, this is how the other half lives,’ Dad says, stroking the pool-table felt.

  ‘Yes, Paul McCartney has a ranch along the mountain range east of us. It’s where Linda died.’

  ‘Not so sure about the art work, though,’ Dad says, staring at the glamour-girl street-art painted by Hotwheelz.

  ‘I quite like them,’ Karen says.

  ‘I took one down before you came,’ I say. ‘They’re not too pervy, are they?’

  ‘I can live with them,’ Mum says. ‘And I could get used to this lifestyle.’

  They unpack their clothes and we eat. I try to relax and chat naturally over dinner. They don’t notice my drug-withdrawal anxiety.