by Carey Lewis
“The turtle helping the scorpion cross a stream, scorpion stings the turtle making them both drown. The scorpion says ‘what the fuck you want from me, I’m a scorpion.’ That kind?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t really get those. No one talks about the scorpion being the son of a bitch blaming the turtle.”
“Moral’s supposed to be about the turtle knowing the scorpion’s a son of a bitch. His own fault he drowned.”
“You hear about the snake and the girl? Snake says to the girl he’s going to die unless she saves him. Girl says you’re a snake you’re going to bite me. Snake says, no, you’re different, so the girl puts the snake in her coat, takes him to some farm and the snake bites her. She says what you do that for? He says, I’m a fucking snake, what’d you expect? They’re all the same story.”
“I don’t know how we’re raising kids today. Like it’s your fault someone fucks you over,” Jamal said.
“What they should teach kids, have the girl say I know you’re a snake but I’m still going to trust you, but I’m going to trust you to be a snake.”
“Anyways, was going to argue with the guy, try to put him straight, but look where I am.”
They were sitting in The Boss’s office, the same place Jamal swindled him some time ago, pretending he was a heroin dealer. The Boss had a shell company, RWL Systems, rented the office space under the guise of computer repair.
Bulldog asked him once why he didn’t just hang out at the back of a restaurant or nightclub or something like they do in the movies. The Boss told him he liked computers and actually did fix some of them that came his way.
“I got a murder,” Jamal said, “some kid ran a two-bit gang.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Think it is, just got to track the kid down we think took his pop’s thirty-eight.”
“Not sure where I fall into all this.”
“You ever hear of the Black Knights?”
“Only in passing. Word or two here and there.”
“Was hoping you’d know how to find them. Apparently they run all the gangs around here, no one’s aware of how to find them.”
“What’s it got to do with your kid?”
“Maybe nothing. But that guy I told you about, told me the story? He tells me everyone wants me out. Think they can find someone better to do the job.”
“You’re not a detective Jamal.”
“That’s what they tell me. Figure I get the Black Knights, it’s going to secure me.”
“Or you’re looking for a way to swindle them too, get you on their payroll, maybe take over their operation,” The Boss said.
Back when he was a parole officer, Jamal would tell his parolees he wanted whatever jobs they were getting in on, thinking he’d make a name for himself in the underworld. That’s how he swindled The Boss, stealing the drug business away from him before it went back to his rival, Vito’s hands.
Jamal started thinking about the analogy, the one The Boss offered about trusting a snake to be a snake.
“You calling me the snake?”
The Boss shrugged.
“You got this thing going on, I get involved?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“I haven’t done shit. I’d be of the mind to ask for a piece of the action, maybe try to take it over if I was so inclined.”
“That’s what I’m waiting on. It’s not like you haven’t tried before.”
“Haven’t tried it since. Not since you got me Vito. Thought we had an understanding.”
“We have an understanding until we don’t, that’s the way it goes. And I don’t see you returning those kickbacks.”
“And I don’t see you ignoring those tips I give you.”
“You want people to not call you the snake? You know what I do. You know who you are.”
Jamal sat silent for a moment until the door opened. A full fledged Cowboy walked in. Didn’t say a word, just walked in and stood there.
“I’m not even going to ask what this is,” Jamal said, rising from his chair and crossing the room. He eyed the Cowboy up and down. The Cowboy stared back, not blinking, chewing the cigarillo in his mouth.
“Yeah, alright, you look pretty cool I’ll give you that,” then he turned back to The Boss, “so you can’t help me?”
“Your kid, what gang was he in?”
“Some outfit called themselves Outcasts. So you can’t help me?”
“The Black Knights?”
Jamal nodded.
“Find your kid Jamal, leave ambition alone. Gets you killed around here.”
“Hello out there all my little babies, you’re with Asteria Nyx taking you through the magic hour, bringing some soul into your lives. You should all be with the sugar now baby, and if you’re not you should be closing in on that sweet taste for the night as the sun goes down and chances go up.
We’re just going to slow things down a bit, get you in the right kind of mood with some Chi-Lites baby. Feeling some love right now, making sure all you cats, and even you dogs out there paying attention.
“The savior is coming up and he’s bringing a special guest so get those dance legs on and listen to the beat. Stay loose my babies.”
The sound of Asteria Nyx floated through the air, from one stereo to the next - the source of information to all the gangs far and wide. It would’ve been a good night. If only Dax could shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to be a good night.
“This must be what Coachella is like,” he heard Cleon say, acting like he was a kid at an amusement park. His joy was contagious and Dax desperately wanted to join in, walking behind the Boppers through the crowds of gang members, the smell of pot pungent in the air.
There were hundreds of bangers here. They passed the Satan’s Sons, the ones that looked like a legitimate biker gang. They bumped shoulders with the Living Abortions, the Port Party Massacre, the Pelham 1-2-3’s, the Clifton Clubbers, the Gravy Train, and even the Lundy’s Ladies were there.
Dax saw it in Cleon’s eyes, the look on his face saying he made it. You couldn’t slap that smile off his mouth. He even bought a new plaid shirt for the occasion.
They followed Lex, Max and Rex behind him. The Boppers brought up the middle and Dax took up the rear. He told his brother to be careful, keep his eyes peeled, but he was lost in the mood of Cleon as well. All four of them, bouncing up and down, fighting their way through the crowd.
The Boppers banged into members of other gangs and they got shoved back but didn’t seem to mind. They thought it was all part of the experience, like they were in a mosh pit. At first Dax would apologize to the offended parties, telling them it was their first time, but then he gave up. Just because there were no weapons here, and no fights would take place, it didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Shit could always go down after the Summit.
They got near the front, a pile of rocks formed above them providing a stage of sorts. Mesiah was up there with his sunglasses and black beret. He had Boon and Baptist with him, dressed the same, carrying AK-47’s - the only gang allowed to carry guns tonight. He was surprised to see Cyrus up there, whispering something into Mesiah’s ear.
More surprised than him though was Cleon and the Boppers. They started cheering for him, getting dirty looks from the Lincoln Regulators beside them; the gang that dressed like they were from the wild west, even adopted their names. They had Doc, the leader, but Dax suspected everyone secretly wanted to be Billy the Kid, called The Kid. He wondered how they settled that.
That’s when Snow started tripping out. Dax warned them not to take anything from the gangs they passed, but there was Snow, swinging his elbows, yelling about everyone being too close, a joint in his mouth that was dripping wet, laced with something.
Lex turned around, the look in his eye told Dax to make him act cool, so Dax tried to grab the joint out of his mouth, got an elbow to the lip for his trouble.
“Mine. Mine,” Snow said through gritted teeth. So Dax held his
arms down in a bear hug, hoping he’d calm himself down. It worked other than the wiggling.
The huge smile on Lex’s face returned, but the look in his eye remained. He turned back to face the rock pile and Dax looked down and saw the grip of the .38 Special sticking out of the waist of his jeans.
Then spotlights thumped to life, illuminating the stage. Dax looked around, seeing makeshift light poles assembled in the park he hadn’t noticed before. A hush came over the crowd as Mesiah came forward, putting his arms out.
Asteria Nyx announced that the show was starting and all the radios in the giant park went quiet. With hundreds of people, hard to life gang bangers and hangers on, the park was completely silent.
“Thank you for coming tonight, my brothers,” Mesiah started. “We come from all walks of life with the same purpose. We come here tonight for a promise of unity. A salvation. A ruling that we can make ours like no other.”
Dax looked around the park, all eyes on Mesiah. He looked back to Lex, at the gun tucked in his pants.
“I have been affronted a proposition and it is that proposition I bring forth to you my friends. We go about on the street, we battle each other, we hurt each other. Well, this proposition put forth to you today would make us all brothers and give us a new enemy. One that we can rule and abolish together.”
The crowd was starting to come to life. They were listening and there was applause now, scattered. Dax looked around again, saw the attentive faces on Mesiah. He looked back to Lex. The gun was no longer in his pants.
“My friend Cyrus has an idea. An idea that he wishes to share with you,” and then Mesiah stepped back, introduced Cyrus.
Cyrus stood from his seat on the rock and came to the front to address the crowd. He was looking down at the cue cards in his hand, shuffling them, and then tucked them away in his pocket.
He looked up, looked out at the crowd. His gaze came this way, looked right at Lex and he smiled. Then he looked back out at the crowd.
“Everyone, I come here today—”
And then he was shot in the chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cleon had no idea what was going on. He just heard a bang then his ears were ringing. He was proud, watching Cyrus on stage, hoped he would make the Boppers legit to everyone. And then he saw Cyrus fall down, looked like red silly-string came out of his chest.
Then everyone was panicking. Running and shoving while he looked for his friends. People were screaming. He didn’t even know what happened and fights were breaking out. There was a gap in the crowd and he saw Lex. For some reason, Lex was pointing at him, yelling “it was the Boppers. The Boppers did it.” At least that’s what his mouth looked like he said.
Cleon asked himself, “did what?”
Then he saw the glint of silver in Lex’s hand as he spun around. Saw his hand explode and then the silly string came out of Snow’s chest. Cleon wondered why he was being held by Dax. Dax let go at that point and then more silly string came out of Snow’s chest. Dax ran off into the crowd and someone behind Dax fell.
Then Cleon’s arm was being pulled. He looked to see that it was Cochise, saying something to him he couldn’t hear, pulling him away. Cleon wondered where he was going, why all these people were panicking and pushing and fighting. He looked back to Lex, saw him drop something, those words on his lips again - “the Boppers did it.”
Then the two big ones started moving in on him, Rex and Max, had their hands out to grab him before some guys that looked like cowboys jumped on them. Then there were clowns jumping on the pile. Fucking clowns. He saw Lex run to the stage, got tackled by the two African warlords up there that were with Mesiah. And now Lex was on the ground, pointing toward him again.
The leader, Mesiah, had his big gun pointed to the sky and it was flashing in bursts. The spotlights that were on the stage starting moving among the crowd. Cochise pulled him again and Cleon thought he saw the word “run” on his lips. That’s when Cleon decided he didn’t want to be there anymore, so he ran.
They went through the crowd, Ajax swinging that lead pipe around to get people out of the way. Eventually, they got through the crowd and climbed the fence, disappearing into the bush.
“Looks like a Halloween party.”
“They’re all dudes,” Bulldog said.
“Didn’t say it was a good one,” Mick said.
They were at the edge of Sugar Park. Mick had called Bulldog earlier, told him it looked like the new gang was gearing up to head out some place. Bulldog then called The Boss, said it looked like they were up to something and The Boss told them to follow, see what happens.
They followed them to what Bulldog and Mick could only guess was a giant costume party, complete with people handing out pot and Ecstasy.
“You ever been to a good Halloween party?” Mick asked.
“No. Dated a girl into Halloween once but not in a sexy way. In a ‘I’m going to look gross’ kind of way. Blood and shit all over her face, peg leg, that sort of thing. All the costume parties I been to look like this one, bunch of guys. Or you go expecting it to be like the movies, girls all slutty-ed up, but in real life they dress as fridges and shit. You?”
“Dated a girl dressed up as a sexy spider.”
“What’s a sexy spider look like?”
“I don’t know. She thought she was sexy though, started putting the moves on me.”
Bulldog chuckled, “what happened?”
“Too many arms.”
Mick took a swig from his flask, both of them looking over the crowd. “Think something’s happening,” Bulldog said.
“I can’t see shit,” Mick said, standing on his toes, trying to get a look over everyone. He was relatively short with bright red hair and a pot belly, looking like a real life leprechaun.
“Think one of the black guys with an AK is going to say something. Holy shit, we know one of the guys up there.”
“Who?” Mick asked, still struggling to get a view.
“Remember that guy had those kids with the guitar? The ones wore plaid with big hair? Got the guitar for that Nigel guy?”
“They’re up there?”
“No, the one in charge of them is up there, the one with the glasses. Shit, I think he’s going to say something too.”
Bulldog watched Cyrus rise and walk to the edge of the rock formation, then he saw Cyrus drop, then the sound of the pop.
“Never mind, he got shot.”
“Who got shot?”
And then they were pushed and pulled. It was a barrage of fists, kicks, and pushes that came from every direction imaginable. As Bulldog was fighting his way out, toward the open grass that was behind them, he thought he saw someone dressed like a Native kick up at him from the ground.
It wasn’t that someone kicked up that caught Bulldog’s attention - it was that he was dressed like Geronimo.
The expanse of grass that was behind them became smaller and smaller as the crowd spanned out, looking for more room to fight.
Mick got caught in a circle, facing off against two guys that looked like they were going to a nightclub. Mick and his stubborn, Irish temper was going to take both of them on. Mick knocked the first one out with one punch and Bulldog heard someone yell “Condor.” Then he heard someone else yell, “get him Dove.” Jesus Christ, they were named after birds.
Bulldog grabbed Mick and pulled him back as the circle broke. The one named Dove ended up getting swarmed by people wearing board shorts and shell necklaces.
“Bulldog, girls,” Mick said, pointing into the crowd. Bulldog looked, and sure enough, there were girls. A little rough around the edges, but clean them up… then he saw a switchblade in one of their hands and decided they weren’t his type.
Bulldog and Mick went to find a safe place to call The Boss.
It turned out, getting captured was the best thing that could’ve happened to Lex. It never crossed his mind word would get out that fast that he joined the Boppers, so he didn’t expect to be jumped. Or mayb
e it’s because he forgot to take off the plaid, that was stupid. He should’ve taken off the plaid before he yelled that the Boppers did it. Shit, he should’ve taken off the plaid before he shot the gun.
He wanted to get to Mesiah, tell him the Boppers did it, become a hero. For some reason, he thought that was a good idea. It ended up saving him though. He looked back and saw Rex and Max getting beat down. They’ll be fine though, they’re tough guys.
The problem he had now was Dax. Holding that kid in front of him like a pussy. He was a loose end that needed tying up. He had to track him down before Dax decided to open his mouth and put the whole thing on Lex.
Lex would need another gun too, dropping his dads in the mud like he did. It didn’t matter, there was only one bullet in it anyway. Counting the bullets - two in Zax, one in Cyrus, two in the kid, one in the crowd, that was six. But he loaded one in there after he shot Zax, the only spare one Hank kept with the gun. One bullet in the gun, not a big loss.
And let’s not forget the Boppers themselves, they were going to have to be dealt with. That’s what he had to do now; convince whoever he was going to talk to that it was the Boppers, he saw it himself. The gang mentality should take care of them, he just had to convince Mesiah of it.
Lex was thinking about all this after Boon and Baptist lifted him from the ground and Mesiah gave them a nod. Then he had a black mask over his face and now he was in a van, listening to the tools clank back and forth.
Then he was brought out of the van, led somewhere, then hit in the legs to drop him to his knees and the mask was taken off. His hands were still tied behind his back.
“Far out,” Lex said as he looked around the room in genuine awe. He couldn’t believe it, seeing Mesiah sitting on an actual throne made of steel.
“Nice place you got here.”
“People tell me you have information,” Mesiah said from his throne. He sounded agitated.
“It was the Boppers done the shooting, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“You know this?”
“I saw them, yeah.”
