“Those are good rules you have,” Cline said. “Otherwise, they might need to be taught a lesson.” He was feeling powerful from his own domineering speech and observing Cisco with the vulnerable teens. He wished Cisco would let one of them sit next to him. He’d like to have them both but would settle for just one to slap around.
“I like the way you think,” Cisco said. “Machismo. Very important. How about you, Mita. Do you like the way our man here thinks?”
“Yes, sir,” Mita said with a half-smile.
Cisco rubbed Mita’s slim, bare thigh with his hand.
She smiled weakly and said, “I like that.”
“Good girl,” he said.
Cline could hardly stand it anymore. Cisco was getting all the action and he wanted some for himself. When is my party going to start?
“You want to go sit with him?” Cisco said to Mita. “Huh?”
“Yes, sir,” Mita said. She started to get up.
Cisco slapped her face.
Cline looked anxiously around, but no one seemed to be noticing what was happening in their booth. Either they weren’t watching or they didn’t care. Maybe both.
“I didn’t tell you that you could go yet, did I?” Cisco asked Mita nastily.
“No, sir,” Mita said with tears in her eyes. She brushed dark hair away from her face and kept her eyes downcast.
“Now you must be with me tonight,” Cisco said. “You still have more to learn. And you know what that means.”
“Yes, sir,” Mita said, not looking at him.
“How about Angel?” Cline said. “She could come sit with me. Mita can take her turn later.”
Cisco was about to answer when the bartender made an announcement.
“Sorry folks, we’ll have to shut down early tonight. As you can see by our unfinished décor, we still have a lot to do for our Super Grand Opening tomorrow. We look forward to seeing all of you when we officially become the best bar in town. This place will look great and will be rockin’. You’ll want to be here for our grand prize drawing tomorrow night. And remember, drinks will be half price from two to four pm. My thanks to all of you for coming tonight. Our ushers will now see you out.”
With that proclamation, four burly bouncers started directing the customers to the door. Motions were made for everyone to leave.
The patrons started getting up from their tables and booths without protesting. They put tips down for the waiter and bartender and grabbed their bottles of beer for a last swallow. Some of them murmured to the others that they would see them tomorrow. A couple of them embraced.
One of the bouncers stopped at Cline’s booth and pointed to the door. He stepped back to let them get out.
“Angel,” Cisco said, getting up from his seat. “You will go with Cline tonight.”
Angel nodded her head in agreement. She managed a half-smile.
“How is that for good faith?” Cisco said. “You haven’t given us any money, and already you’ve made a contact with one of our special girls.” He smiled. “The others we have are prettier than her,” he said. “But she will do for you for now.”
“Fantastic,” Cline said in anticipation of the private time he would have all night with the lovely young Angel. She was more than pretty enough for him. He was already envisioning dominance his way. His pulse fluttered in delight.
“I will telephone you tomorrow to discuss how and when you will pay for being in our group. You will find our conditions to be very affordable.” He smiled, showcasing a gold grille covering his teeth. Cisco grasped Mita tightly by the arm and pulled her close.
Cline wrote his telephone number down on a card and passed it across the table.
Cisco grabbed it and put it in his shirt pocket. “You stay here,” he said to Mita. I’m gonna walk these two to his car.” He turned and pointed his finger inches from her face. “Don’t move or leave your seat, or I’ll deal with you later.”
Mita nodded her head in agreement without looking at him. “Yes, Sir.”
Cline got up from the booth, cocked his head to the door, and took Angel by the arm. She submissively followed alongside him. He wanted to hit her now just because he could but decided to do it later when he was alone and could enjoy her fear and crying for him to stop.
Der Schluss emptied within minutes. The customers walked to their cars, some stopping to light cigarettes, others talking in small groups. The bar’s door was locked when the last customer exited, and the lights were turned off. None of the patrons left the parking lot although some were in cars with the engines idling as if ready to go.
Cline, Cisco, and Angel walked to Rick’s truck.
Cisco grabbed Angel’s face with his left hand and, squeezing it, brought it up close to his. “You be good to him. Understand? I don’t want to get any bad reports.” He kissed her nose.
“Yes, Sir,” Angel said. “Thank you. I liked that.” She smiled nervously and pushed wisps of dark hair from her pretty face.
“They’re just like dogs,” Cisco said. “You gotta show some muscle to keep them in line. If they don’t listen, you kick them around and don’t feed them.” He laughed out loud. “And if they do listen, you give them a small reward. One that you benefit from, too. It’s all about the men.”
“You got that right,” Cline said with a big grin.
“She’s yours for the night,” Cisco said, smiling. “Enjoy.”
“Don’t you worry. I will,” Cline said. “And she will, too.”
Angel opened the truck’s passenger door and slid in. She stared straight ahead so as not to anger her new captor and risk getting struck.
Cline got in the driver’s side, closed the door, and rolled down the window.
“I’ll telephone you tomorrow morning, and we’ll finish the details,” Cisco said, pulling a self-rolled cigarette from his pocket. He lit the short tobacco stick and inhaled deeply. “I needed this,” he said, blowing smoke into the air. “Imagine not being able to smoke in a bar. Ridiculous.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you,” Cline said. He started the engine and pulled away from the parking lot, the blood surging through his veins in anticipation of the good times to come.
When Cline’s truck was out of sight, Cisco put out his cigarette and tucked the butt into his pocket. He pulled out a cell phone and hastily made a call to the police, reciting his speech according to the Play.
The engines of the vehicles in the parking lot were turned off. The Der Schluss customers started to walk back inside, murmuring congratulations to each other for a job well done.
Cisco prepared his cell phone for disposal.
“Act Two is over and done, everybody. Great job,” the bartender said aloud when they were all inside. He was high-fiving those closest to him.
Cisco turned to Mita and asked, “Are you okay, honey? I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?” He touched her cheek then hugged her.
“I’m fine. I made it look worse than it was,” Mita said, laughing. “I hope Bo-Bae’s all right.”
“She’s smart and knows how to handle herself,” Cisco said. “And she and Cline should be intercepted before too long. She’s going to call Daddy after they get stopped. Daddy’ll call me, and we can pass the word around so everyone knows she got out all right.” He called out to the Cast Members, “Now let’s get this place put back the way it was, people, and we can all go home.”
Immediately, all around him, willing hands were busy packing up everything brought in. Liquor, glassware, and snack items were put in boxes and placed outside in waiting trucks. Cases of beer and empty bottles were stacked neatly for loading. Garbage bags with the night’s refuse of catered food containers, napkins, and other trash were removed and carried out for placement in Sammy’s van. Cast members monitored the cleanup.
Marla came out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt, looking nothing like the pretend Tina she had been earlier. She had taken off the stilettos and replaced them with sneakers so she could help with
the cleanup.
Tony hugged her and told her what a great job she did. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I hope we got those cigarettes out in time,” Sammy said. “Hey. Can anyone smell smoke or tobacco in here?” He tilted his head back and started sniffing the air. “If the police come around, I don’t want them getting a whiff of that. And how about that cheap cologne Spade was wearing. Anyone smell it now?”
They all agreed the odor was gone.
“There’s just a faint smokey smell,” George said. “Let’s open the back doors to air this place out. By the way, my thanks to all you ladies and gentlemen for not wearing perfume and cologne.” The Cast murmured appropriate replies. “And don’t forget to double and triple check what each other has done to clean this joint up.”
“What about this?” Marla asked, holding up a chipped enamel bucket full of old, stale cigarette butts she found under the bar. “Do you want to toss this, too?”
“No, put that back,” Sammy said. “It was there when we got here. Probably from when the place was operating as a bar. It might pass as the source of the tobacco smell if the police get a whiff and start looking for it.”
Marla put the container back where she found it.
Some of the workers pushed wide the doors of the two back exits. A couple of them went out to the parking lot, looking for anything the Cast Members may have dropped.
The others bustled about to finish erasing the evidence of their evening. Tables and chairs were put back the way they were before the doors had opened this evening. Most of the light bulbs were removed, and the paper towels and toilet paper were taken out of the restrooms. A crew of the Cast, carrying the damp rags the bartender had used, hustled about, wiping down every surface area that may have been touched during the Play.
Finally, when the place was restored and cleared of Cast Members, Sammy, starting at the front door, spread dust from a cloth sack. He put the dust particles in a sifter and went from the front of the building to the back, moving the sifter back and forth in an effort to obliterate footprints and make the place look as if it hadn’t been occupied in months. He was skillful, taking care not to put too much around so it looked staged, but just enough to appear natural. He threw some up on the ceiling fans and light fixtures. Sammy backed his way out the door, finishing the job.
When the Cast finished and closed and locked the back doors behind them, they were all reminded to empty their pockets of anything connected to the night’s Play. Those items were tossed in trash bags for incinerating.
The bouncers took one last look around and gave the order for everyone to leave the property. Vehicles slowly, methodically, pulled away from their spots. The caravan gained speed and the cars started, one at a time, to take different side roads, until the group had dispersed, and the procession was no more.
One lone figure remained to brush debris and stones where tires had disturbed the grounds outside the building. Job finished and broom in hand, the last of the Cast wandered off into the darkness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Glen Spade cruised his van through the winding streets of the city, weaving back and forth across the line. Thoughts of the drug-filled days to come were on his mind. Rock tunes blared from his favorite radio station.
Impaired from drugs and alcohol, his knowledge of back streets and alleyways was no longer available. He was pleased with his new drug contacts and excited at the anticipation of seeing Tina tomorrow. His mind was concocting ways of having his fun with her. The music was loud, and if it weren’t for the flashing red lights in his rear view mirror, he would not have noticed the police cars closing in on him. He regretted having swallowed the pills he had in his special stash.
“What’s up, officer?” Spade asked out the rolled down window. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Your tail-lights are out,” Officer Johns said. “Please get your owners card, drivers license, and insurance papers and hand them to me.”
“What do you mean, my tail-lights are out?” Spade said. “You’re crazy. They work perfectly fine.” He was surprised. “I know they are because I just had the van inspected.”
“Well, they’re not working now. Step out of your vehicle and show me your paperwork,” Johns said more forcefully.
He motioned for two other officers who were shining their lights into the van’s back windows to join him. They came and stood next to Johns.
Empty-handed, Spade opened the door and missed the step. He fell down, looked from one officer to the other, stood up and shifted his gaze nervously to the interior of his van.
Two officers stayed close by. They instructed Spade to put his hands on the side of the vehicle, spread his legs wide, and one of them patted him down.
“You don’t have any needles or anything on you, do you? I’m not gonna get stuck when I check your pockets. Right?”
“Nah,” Spade said.
He was clean.
“I’ll show you my lights are fine,” he said.
“Ok, let’s take a look,” one of the officers said.
Spade staggered to the back of his vehicle. “You’re making asses out of yourselves,” he slurred. “Good grief.”
An officer shined his light on the broken plastic covers and bulbs, all cracked and darkened.
“I just had this van in the garage to the tune of lotsa’ dollars,” Spade said. “That musta’ happened back at the bar.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You can’t fine me for something I don’t know nothin’ about. I’m leaving.” He staggered toward the front of his van.
“You’re not going anywhere yet. Where’s your driver’s license, owner’s card and insurance papers?” Johns said again.
Spade started to sweat. “I left them at home. They’re not here.” He fidgeted, looking nervously at the van. He leaned into the door to steady himself.
“You left all of your paperwork at home,” Johns repeated. “Everything?”
“Yep. I can go get it and bring it down to the station.” He was looking guilty but hoping for a break. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll go get it.”
“I don’t think so,” the officer said. “You don’t look fit enough to drive. Have you been drinking?"
"Just one. Back there at the bar," Spade said.
"What bar?" Johns asked.
“I dunno. The Call or the Hall or somethin' like that.”
“We got a tip that a vehicle with this description had just made a drug deal in a parking lot. Do you have any drugs or weapons on you or in your van?”
“No. I don’t do drugs, and I don’t carry weapons,” Spade said, trying to lie convincingly. He smiled crookedly, certain he was smarter than the officers.
“Sit down here before you fall down again,” Johns said. “May we search your van?”
“Sure.” Uncertain of whether he had drugs or not, he was still feeling secure.
Johns decided to try something. “Where would the drugs be hidden, if you have any?” He gave Spade his most sincere look.
“Somewhere under the passenger’s seat,” Spade revealed. “But I don't think they’re there. Look for yourself.” His eyes enlarged when the drug-sniffing dog was brought out of the police car.
Johns stood next to the seated Spade while Officer Conrad handled the dog. The search started on the passenger’s side of the van. The yellow lab lowered his head and sniffed the seams of the vehicle. His canine brain was associating the odor of drugs as if it were his toy, and his respirations intensified as familiar, rewarding smells were recognized. Fully engaged in the scent, the lab abruptly sat and stared at the passenger side door. Conrad gave the dog a treat and began to play with him. He took the dog aside and showered him with affection.
“I thought you said you have no drugs,” Johns said to Spade. “The dog’s behavior tells us otherwise. You can cooperate with us, and we will try to work with you or you can continue to pretend there’s nothing there, and we will promise nothing. What will it be? Will you cooperate?”
; Spade struggled to remember whether he had drugs or not. He didn’t think he did, but opted to cooperate and see what happened. His judgment impaired, he figured he might be able to go home rather than spend the night in jail. That would give him plenty of opportunity to pack up and leave town.
“If I have any they might be under the seat,” he offered. “In some bags.”
“What’s under the seat?” Johns said.
“My stash. Just some pills, that’s all. It’s stuff I use. I don’t sell or nothin’. ”
“How about weapons. You packing? Any needles under the seat? We don’t want to be surprised by anything. Tell us now.”
“No. I never carry weapons on me. I don't like them things." He was glad his Walther P99 was well hidden at his house.
Johns did the Miranda piece with Spade, who grunted that he understood his rights.
“Check under the passenger’s seat,” Johns called out to the other policemen.
While they went to the other side of the van, Johns gave Spade a sobriety test which he failed.
“If you woulda told me I was gonna have to do this, I’da practiced,” Spade said. “It’s your fault I flunked. I’m gonna tell the judge all this, too.”
“Can I quote you on that?” Johns said. “Verbatim?”
Officer Thomas used the lever and pushed the passenger’s side seat all the way back but couldn’t see anything.
“Where under the seat?” he asked. “Exactly where are they?”
“Pull up the mat. There’s a compartment under it,” Spade said. He began to wonder whether or not he was supposed to tell them that. “Will this make me lose my new drug connection? I need those pills.”
“Can I quote you on that, too?” Johns asked.
Spade, proud of the officer wanting to quote him said, “Sure. I got lots more you can quote, too. Quote this.” He made a rude gesture.
Thomas lifted the mat to find a crudely cut lid. He used a screwdriver lying under the seat to pry off the top. Tucked inside were two plastic bags full of pills. He took them out and held them up. “These for a medical condition or recreation?” he asked Spade.
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