Suicide Lounge (Selena Book 3)

by Greg Barth

  He lit up and took a long hit from the pipe.

  Sloane blew out her smoke and said, “What are you going to do about Mozingo?”

  Deke added to the cloud of smoke in the bathroom. “I don’t know. Try to help him, I guess.”

  “He going to kill this woman in Johnson City? Amanda?”

  Deke looked at her. “What do you care about Amanda for?”

  “Deke—”

  “I hear you been hanging out at the Red Light.”

  “How would you know something like that?”

  “I got my ways.”

  “Keep tabs on me all you want. I’m a free woman. Don’t you forget it.”

  “Somebody I know saw you there the other night.”

  “They did, huh? If I was there, I didn’t see anybody I know.”

  “A guy we’re working with. I was showing some pictures on my phone. Some from Myrtle Beach when we was—”

  “You was showing them what exactly?”

  “Not those pictures, honey. Just some others. Anyway, he recognized you as my girl.”

  “Your girl.”

  “Well, ain’t you?”

  “I don’t want Mozingo cutting up this woman. It doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “I’m trying other ways.”

  “Deke. You hear me? I don’t want him cutting up some woman. Especially now that I’ve seen her. She’s not even…I don’t know…she ain’t right, you know?”

  Deke handed the pipe back to her. “And I said I’m trying. Fucking thing is, this woman is tough as hell.”

  “That doesn’t mean he has to hurt her like he does everybody else.”

  Deke shrugged. “They might listen to reason.”

  Sloane scoffed. “Like that’ll help.”

  “I won’t make promises. I’ll do what I can. I’m not crazy about it either, but my influence is…well, it has its limits. And you do know that even my methods don’t mean she’ll get to live happily ever after.”

  “I get it. Not living is one thing. What he does though?” She shivered. She lit the bowl and took a hit.

  “I was able to help a guy the other day. We have this thing where Mozingo tells them not to move. He gets them all scared, then he does his thing. Then I’m supposed to come in and say that they did move, which means Mozingo does something worse to them. Well, this time I offered to do it for him so he could get on out.”

  “Well. Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Do it for him?”

  “He wanted me to cut a guy’s dick off. Of course I didn’t. But Mozingo thinks I did.”

  “Sounds like you made a new friend then.”

  Deke drained his scotch. “So you love me most,” he said.

  Sloane choked on laughter until she started coughing, smoke pouring out of her nostrils and mouth. When she was clear, she inhaled deeply and said, “I didn’t say that. I just said I love my brother second.”

  “Well, I love you,” he said.

  Sloane smiled.

  “I love you more than anybody,” he said.

  “I don’t want you to say it,” she said.

  “No?”

  “Huh uh,” she said. She dropped her hand to the floor and picked up her glasses. “I want you to spell it—every single letter—with the tip of your tongue.”

  “Spell it where?”

  “Oh…this little spot I know. A very special little place. I can show it to you.”

  “Oh yeah? Then you’d better get out of that tub.”

  ***

  Afterward, they went out to the narrow balcony outside the bedroom and sat. Deke was in his underwear. Sloane was wrapped in a blanket. They shared a cigarette and a glass of wine.

  “Look,” Sloane said, pointing to the sky near the horizon. “A star.”

  “It’s not a star,” Deke said.

  “It is. The first star. We should make a wish.”

  “Too cloudy. It’s an airplane.”

  “Deke. Come on. Be romantic. I took astronomy. It’s Arcturus.”

  “Just like I said. It’s Arcturus coming out of Atlanta. They fly through here all the time.”

  She popped him in the side with her elbow. “Dumbass. Make a wish.”

  “Okay.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

  She watched him. She drew on the cigarette and chased it with wine. “So?” she said.

  “So what?”

  “So what did you wish for?”

  “Can’t tell you.”

  “Sure you can, idiot.”

  “Okay, then what did you wish for?” he said.

  “I want to hear yours first.”

  “Okay. I wished that tomorrow would be a better day.”

  Sloane smirked. “Funny. I wished that every day would be just like today.”

  NINE

  Selena

  THE CREW ASSEMBLED the next day. We met in the bar before opening. Enola and I put out a couple of long tables together in front of the dance stage and positioned chairs around them. We had the lights turned up inside the club.

  The Johnson City syndicate was small. Assembled were the suppliers of the dealers of the various forms of drugs in the county. We had a couple of prominent moneylenders and some active in the sex trade. It wasn’t a large gathering. Enola had put out a few bottles on the table. She had also placed three cartons of cigarettes for anybody that wanted them. She had a carton of Salems, a carton of Winstons, a carton of Marlboro Lights, only they don’t call them lights anymore, but that’s what they were. Everyone at the table had drinks. A few of us were smoking.

  “So, does anybody here know what we’re dealing with?” Benny Franks said. Benny was an older man who had a good bit of cash out on the street. He wore large-frame glasses from a bygone era and kept his receding silver hair slicked back with some sort of grease. His blue leisure suit was straight out of the seventies. He had thick, gold rings on every finger except his thumbs. Benny smoked cigars, but not the premium, hand-rolled works of art that Top Hat savored. Benny smoked the cheapest short filler cigars he could find. Benny had no respect for my leadership, and he let it be known every moment that he could.

  I began. “Here’s what we know—”

  “Hey, Pop Tart,” Benny interrupted. “I’d rather hear it from Ragus.”

  “Well, I don’t know shit,” Ragus said. “This thing I’ve been dealing with is related, but Amanda knows the most.”

  I was the only woman at the table besides Enola. I was by far the smallest person. To complicate things further, my voice was softer than anyone else’s.

  “If I could, please,” I said with a raised voice.

  “Go on,” Ragus said.

  “We know Pete was killed. It looks like a hit.”

  “Who would want to take a hit at Pete?” Morgan Johnson said. Morgan was a young African American who ran drugs on the east side of town. He kept his head shaved and wore a loose-fitting, black silk shirt. He was lean and looked like he could run a marathon and win it.

  “I believe a man by the name of John Mozingo is making a grab for our business. Yesterday I was called to a meeting with Top Hat. The bikers are ending their arrangement with us. He said it was because his commitment was to Pete Malucci only, and Mozingo had made a compelling counter offer. I called him on his bullshit, and he all but said that Mozingo is taking over and was the clear favorite to win should it come to a fight. He’s switching his loyalty accordingly.”

  “Well that’s some shit, ain’t it?” Morgan said.

  “Do we know anything about Mozingo?” Ragus said.

  “I know of him,” Crowbar said. Bob Crowe, AKA Crowbar, was a supplier of pharmaceutical drugs. He had black hair cut short and a lean, angular face. His cheeks were pockmarked with old acne scars. Crowbar attended school and was an actual pharmacist for a number of years. He lost his license from the board of pharmacy for ethical violations. He could no longer practice his profession legitimately, but he still had connections and was able to get h
is hands on hospital-grade stuff. His connections and supply were worth a small fortune to the syndicate.

  “What do you know?” Ragus said.

  “John Mozingo is a tough son of a bitch. He’s a pure psychopath willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants. His daddy ran drugs up from Florida back in the eighties. His boys helped out. John made some connections north of here. The way I hear tell, the old man was particularly cruel. If anyone shorted him or slighted him in any way, he took a pound of flesh. Literally. Anyway, John cut a wide swath back up through West Virginia. They were doing well for themselves up until the old man got killed. One of his own enforcers betrayed him. Shot him dead. Then John got incarcerated up north. He did a long stretch of time. Went in the can meaner’n shit, came out crazy. The family fell apart. John may be the only one left at this point. Thing is, this guy coming our way? It’s the worst thing I can think of. We don’t want to provoke him until we know what his intentions are. I think a meeting is a perfectly reasonable expectation under the circumstances.”

  “I was away trying to shore up a supply side issue,” Ragus said. “Some of our suppliers of adult entertainment are being encouraged not to kick up to us any longer. I made it clear to them they could divide the take as many ways as they wanted, but we still get our cut. They finally came around to seeing things my way, but they’re asking for us to help them negotiate with the other party.”

  “So, what’s your guidance on this matter?” Don Chambers said. Don was an older black man with white hair and a thin, white beard. He wore a gray, long-sleeved sweater even though it was summer. Don was a major dealer of heroin and owned a downtown jazz club.

  “We hit back,” I said.

  Everybody looked at me.

  I raised my voice, trying to find the strength it needed. “We hit back,” I repeated. “They’ve hit us three times by my count. They took down Pete, took our meth supply from the bikers, and are putting pressure in other areas.”

  “I like it,” Don said.

  “Damn straight,” Morgan said.

  “Doesn’t make sense. We need to talk to these guys,” Benny said.

  “Look. Most of you don’t know me that well,” I said. I pointed to my forehead and cheek. “You see these scars on my face? Most of the bone around this eye is missing. It’s been replaced with plastic. I have bullet holes through my chest. I have metal screws holding my legs together. You know how I got these scars? I got these scars by fighting some bad men on their terms. If I’ve learned anything, you hit and you hit hard. You take the fight to them. You fight on your terms. You give them more than they know how to handle. The men that put these scars on me? Those men are dead. They’re dead because I hit them back hard.”

  Ragus raised his hand to caution me, but I was more worried about doing the right thing than I was about protecting my new identity.

  “Now hold on there, Pop Tart,” Benny said. “A couple of us know who you are and the things you did. Not to mention the men who are on the wrong side of the dirt as a result. Hell, I was there in the room that night at Mariah’s, in the room having dinner with a friend of mine, a man I respected. I don’t know where Ragus here was, or Malucci, or any of these other fucks, but I was there. I know what happened that night, okay? So don’t go telling us how tough you are. I know the things you’ve done even if none of our friends here do. And I wouldn’t say I’m all that impressed. But we didn’t get where we are today by being pansies. None of us. We’re all tough. This ain’t about being tough, this is about being smart. And we’re not going to sit here at this table and talk about what you did.”

  Enola was giving me a strange look. I had never told her about the violence I’d suffered. I hadn’t told her that I’d killed men before. She only knew me as a close friend of Ragus.

  “Benny, you need to show some respect,” Morgan said. “Stop calling this woman here Pop Tart.”

  “Hang on, Morgan. I’ve got this,” I said. “Benny, with all due respect, your idea of being tough is being the bully on the playground, pushing around people that are weaker than you. My idea of being tough is kicking that bully’s ass along with his whole crew. That’s what we have to do here. Not try to sit down and talk to the new bully. He’s already making his moves. Delaying just gives him a stronger position. Talking is a show of weakness. We don’t want to do that.”

  “Yeah? You go up against these guys, you need to change the name of this joint,” Benny said.

  “What do you have in mind, Benny?” Enola said.

  “Call it The Suicide Lounge,” Benny said. “’Cause that’s what it’ll be.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Enola said. “The Suicide Lounge will have the best damned happy hour in town.”

  “What’s suicide is not taking the fight to them immediately,” I said. “The longer we wait, the more it’s going to cost us in the end. You watch.”

  “Suicide? Happy hour? You got some experience with both, don’t you?” Benny said.

  Fury surged through me. “I won’t fucking sit here and put up with your—”

  “I could arrange a meeting,” Crowbar interjected, loud. “I could. I think I can get word to Mozingo. I can make it happen.”

  “Yeah? I’ve got a word you can get to Mozingo,” I said.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” Ragus said. “Before we go to war, let’s see who we’re fighting. I say set it up, Crowbar.”

  Hot blood rushed to my face. I glared at Ragus across the table. He wouldn’t make eye contact with me. The room was silent for a long, awkward minute.

  “Well, drink up, boys,” Enola finally said. “Club opens in an hour. Girls’ll be arriving any minute.”

  Benny stood. “Gentlemen,” he said. He turned to me. “Ladies.” He looked ridiculous in his leisure suit.

  I sat there in silence. I was furious. I didn’t want to speak out of emotion.

  Morgan leaned over to me. He gestured toward Don. “Me and the old man here? We ready to fight.”

  I looked him in the eye. I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “Sincerely. Thank you both.”

  “Once these cooler heads stop with their prevalence,” Dons said, “we’ll tool up and show these motherfuckers who they’re fucking with.”

  I smiled at him. “Damn straight,” I said.

  Don and Morgan got up and left the table. Ragus walked them to the parking lot.

  I turned to Crowbar. “You know, I really thought I’d have your support on this. I’ve never been so disappointed in you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You do have my support. I just think we get the meeting over with. Let everybody see who we’re dealing with. They’ll learn quick that we don’t have a choice here.”

  “I mean first Top Hat, then Benny, then you, and now Ragus. I don’t know why I bother. I’m not even invested in this thing. I’m the one person that could just cut and run the easiest of all.”

  “Amanda, you have my support. Okay? I just have different tactics. You have my support.”

  I looked down. I reached out my hand and patted Crowbar on the back. “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’m going to go help Enola set up,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I need a moment alone with Ragus.”

  “Oh, I bet you do. Mind if I move this table out?”

  “Go ahead.”

  I got up, grabbed my drink, and walked over to the door. Ragus was just stepping back inside.

  “VIP room,” I said to him.

  “Am I getting a lap dance?” Ragus said.

  “VIP room. Now.”

  I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back at him.

  I flung the door open and plopped down on the couch. I spilled some of my drink.

  He followed me and closed the door. He stood looking down at me.

  “That was a real dick move, Ragus,” I said.

  “Now hold on.”

  “Look, I don’t even give a shit about this organization. I have nothing invested. Nothing is
holding me here. But I’m not leaving. I’m not because I know Pete Malucci had my back. And these assholes cut him down. I can’t stand for that. But I sit in here rallying the team to do the right thing and you fucking stab me in the back.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Bullshit it’s not like that. I have no respect with these guys anyway. If you don’t back me, then I’ve got nothing.”

  “You have their respect. Most of those guys love you. Crowbar? He feels awful about...you know...about what happened.”

  “About my overdose? Well, yeah, I don’t hold that against him. It was an accident. But you, you son of a bitch. You betray me right there in front of them all.”

  “It’s not like that. I wanted to end it before lines were drawn we couldn’t get past, that’s all. You don’t just declare war in a moment and expect everyone to fall in line. They need time. I’m giving them a chance to cool down, to sleep on it. They’ll figure it out.”

  “Well, we don’t have time.”

  “Trust me, Selena. I know these guys. They’ll come around. They will, but not if you push them.”

  “No. Not if I push them. But they would if you pushed them.”

  “It’s that easy, huh?”

  “Don’t patronize me. I’ll kill Mozingo myself.”

  He chuckled.

  “Don’t fucking laugh at me. I mean, goddamn it, Ragus—”

  “Hear me out,” he said.

  “No. I fucking hate you.”

  “I know you do. But if you want their support, the first thing we need to do is turn the money back on.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “You know any suppliers?”

  I stopped and thought. “I used to.”

  “They still alive?”

  “Yeah. But they’re all in various institutions of one type or another.”

  “Well then, you know where to find them.”

  “I’m so fucking mad, I can’t think straight,” I said.

  “Take a deep breath. Pause and think. You’ll see it. We need to get the supply flowing again to get their buy-in. If Mozingo owns the only supply…”

  I took a drink of bourbon. I thought about it. I pushed down my anger. “What’s the fastest way to get on the prison visitation list?”