“How much did you give ‘em?”
“Two hundred hard-earned dollars… Bastard didn’t even pay for his lap dance… Will you do me one lil’ old favor?”
“What’s that, baby doll?”
“Cripple those sons of bitches,” she said, staring past me into space. Like a benediction, sealing the promise, I kissed her forehead and turned on my heels.
Sunlight exploded pinning my pupils as I stepped out of the dark club and onto the sidewalk, I fumbled my shades on to protect me from the day. The two Armenian thugs were moving towards a ten-year-old BMW 740i. A skinny little thing in a leather trench coat and his muscle, a big boy, six foot and pushing 250 hard. Talk was out of the question, even if I wanted to, which I didn’t. Odds were even that the big boy could kick my ass if I gave them any slack. I ran full out, before they even knew I was coming I was in midair. I tackled the big boy from behind, catching his hair in my fist I let the momentum of my body weight drive his face down onto the hood of the Beemer. I heard a crunch that I knew was his nose breaking, and he let out a howl. Pulling his head up I smashed it down again, I could feel the muscles in his back loosen, he was going down. A sweep to the back of his knee sent him sprawling on the sidewalk where he lay holding his face, blood flowing through his fingers.
From the corner of my eye, I saw skinny boy reaching into his jacket. In the two steps it took me to reach him, he had his gun out. It was an ugly Glock 9mm. He swung it up, aiming inches from my face.
I froze, my expression going neutral.
He stood in the street between the hood of the Beemer and the trunk of a rusted-out Chevy. “I’m gonna bust a cap in yo ass muthafucka,” he spat out, struggling to sound as Black as possible.
“Do it, please. Come on, pull the trigger. Right here between the eyes.” I pointed at my forehead.
“What? You whacked out?” he said, unsure of his position. It’s hard to threaten a guy who doesn’t give a damn.
“Come on, don’t be a squid, pull the trigger. Pull it!” His eyes flitted off me and to his pal. That instant was all I needed. In one movement I lunged forward shoving his gun up, and him out into an oncoming Monte Carlo. The bass thud of his body against metal was mixed with the treble crack of a bone breaking. He bounced off the grill of the speeding car. For a brief moment he took flight, twisting like a broke winged bird up into the air before tumbling down screaming like a little girl. Thank god it was LA so the car just kept going. Grabbing hold of the scruff of his trench coat I dragged his skinny ass up onto the sidewalk, scooping up the Glock on my way. There are so many more guns than brains in this town. His left leg was twisted in a way nature never intended, and he was shrieking in pain. Looking down at this wailing little puke, all I wanted to do was pound his head into the cement, anything to get him to shut the fuck up.
Luckily the big boy got my attention before I could act on my impulse to stomp. Coming around, he stood up looking at me, his face smeared red with blood. His nose was mashed flat against his face. His eyes were raging as though he was about to charge, then he saw the Glock in my hand. He relaxed, shrugging his shoulders and gave me a look that said it was my move, he’d live or die with whatever I chose. You had to respect him, he hadn’t been dealt the hand he wanted, but he was playing what he had like a man.
“Get this piece of shit off my sidewalk,” I said in as neutral a tone as I could muster. My pulse was pounding, my adrenaline flying high. But this was no time for drama. Things can go ugly in the blink of an eye, and then these boys were looking at the long dirt nap and it’s a steel cage for the rest of my life. The big boy looked down at his squealing buddy, a little embarrassment showing in his eyes. Glancing up at me, he hardened.
“You’re still trying to decide if you can take me, gun and all.” I said flat, “I know I would be. Fuck it kid, take a pass on this one. It ain’t pretty any way you play it.” I was hoping like hell he didn’t attack. If the 9mm didn’t stop him I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t rip my head off. No fear showed in his eyes. He just kept staring at me. Wherever he’d come up it was a hell of a lot rougher than the streets of Glendale. “Whatever you’re going to do, let’s get to it before the blues roll up and I’ve got to explain the gun, the blood, the bodies and this day goes from shit to diarrhea.”
The big boy thought about it for a moment, turning the options over in his head, I could see the gears click away as his eyes bore into mine, searching for my weakness. He was a street fighter, and not one who was used to losing. “It’s over,” I said lowing the gun, giving him space to back down into. His shoulders relaxed, hiking up into another indifferent shrug. He moved past me, closer than comfortable, close enough to let me know he held no fear of an old bastard like me. Skinny boy let out a high-pitched squeal when dumped into the back seat of the Beemer. Leaning in, I slipped my hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Taking his driver’s license and a wad of bills, mostly hundreds, I tossed the wallet onto the front seat. I leaned my face close to him, tapping my finger on his forehead forcing him to focus on my eyes, with my other hand I covered his mouth silencing his whimpers. I spoke in almost a whisper. “You ever even think about my girls again, even a flitting fucking thought and I will find you.” I dropped the clip out of the Glock and kicked it into the storm drain. Ejecting the chambered round, I tossed the nasty plastic gun to the big boy and watched them drive away, wondering what the hell was wrong with the youth of today. Hell, when I was their age, I never would have let some old fuck get the drop on me.
When I reentered the club Piper was on stage dancing to Billy Holiday’s “God Bless The Child.” Spinning around the pole, running her hands up over her fine natural double D’s, fingers dancing circles around her nipples, all the standard moves, moves she could do in her sleep, mechanical moves designed to draw your eye to her body and fill your reptile brain with the need to mate or at least throw dollar bills. The men watching didn’t notice the fear in her eyes. Ok, maybe they didn’t even notice she had eyes. She was parts, real live moving parts.
The fight had cleared my head, and pulled my spirit up enough for me to remember Kelly and her call and her sweet face. I should have walked out then, but then I wouldn’t have been me. Stepping up to the stage I tossed two Benjamins at Piper’s feet. Looking down she smiled, her eyes going soft. Even the lonely men at the rail were impressed by the falling hundreds. She danced the rest of the song for me alone. Eyes on my face, it was a dance honoring her valorous hero. The mind may know it’s all a sham, but blood wants what blood wants. Watching her work her magic on the stage I knew where we would end up. My blood lust had turned to lust lust that quickly. Tits.
Stepping off the stage, she took my hand and started to lead me to the lap room. “I can’t, baby doll, I have to find Kelly,” I said half-heartedly.
“Mo, if you were ten years younger,” Piper purred, “You’d still be ten years too old for that girl child. Now drop the torch Cowboy, that one’s never going to give it up.”
“It ain’t about that, Piper.”
“Tell yourself any little lie you need to, but it’s always about
“I think she’s in trouble.”
“We all were in trouble from those punks, but you handled that,” she said, keeping her grip tight.
“Maybe later, she…”
“You plan on banging her?”
“No.”
“Then she’ll wait. Lordy, lordy, lordy, part of you wants to stay. “ Her eyes flicked down to my crotch. “Is that for lil’ ol’ me?”
I gave up my weak attempt to fight it and let her lead me into the shadows. I lied to myself, saying Piper was right, Kelly must have been afraid of the Armenians. Truth was, my erection was doing all the thinking at that moment. My blood was up and screaming for release. Watching Piper’s ass sway before me I couldn’t see a damn thing wrong with this deal.
I told myself one more little lie and slid into the moment, pretending this time it would be different and I wouldn’t end up feeling more empty than when I started. Sitting on a metal chair surrounded by mirrors she slid down onto my lap while somewhere in the distance Nicki Minaj was singing about being the best. Rubbing her fine ass on my crotch she moaned in fake but convincing passion. Her hair against my face, her scent filling my nose, rose water hovering over hair spray and buried down below, just the hint of sweat. To the pulsing beat Piper swayed her full, soft, natural breasts across my face, tracing her cleavage across the hair on my chin. All the while her leg expertly stroked my erection through my jeans. Caressing her hands over my shoulders she felt my
