by Paul Watkins
Seeing the look on our faces, A.J. turns and we all stop in our tracks. This appears to be a chance encounter, but there’s no doubt they mean to make the most of it. There aren’t many options here. We could try to run, but Lionel would never make it. Our only chance is to stick together. I move to the front and push A.J. to the rear with my left arm.
“Stay with Lionel… don’t let anyone get behind me,” I whisper as A.J. slides back. I notice Billy moving forward… to my left. Billy is a big man, but I have no idea how he will react in this type of situation. Our adversaries are young, but they aren’t kids… and they do have knives.
I raise my hands to show I am not armed. I don’t want any mistakes because of bad lighting. Might as well see if we can talk our way out of this. Not much chance, but it’s worth a try.
“Okay fellas,” I begin, trying to sound calm and reasonable, “we don’t want any trouble here. Why don’t you let us back away and no one will get hurt.”
The three men are spread across the wide sidewalk, a pace or two apart. The largest of the three still has no weapon… probably figures he doesn’t need one. The other two are now in front of me, one facing me, the other to my right. They both carry their knives in their right hands. Contrary to popular belief,knife fights are messy. No matter how well prepared you are, you can get hurt in a knife fight. And knives in the hands of people who know how to use them are deadly. I have no illusions about our chances. I would much rather walk or run away from here, but that’s just not one of the options. We’re going to have to fight.
Right now I’m getting really pissed, a normal reaction, I suppose, at this stage of the game. The nerve of these bastards! Someone’s probably going to die in a few moments. I may go down, but I know that at least one of these assholes will go with me. As the seconds pass, I no longer want to run… instead, I enter the zone and all I want now is to get it on.
“I think I recognize that nigger back there,” the man in the center says with a sneer. “Hey, man, ain’t you that nigger singer?” He turns to the other knifer on his left. “I thinks we got us a nice rich star for our evenin’s entertainment, boys. Shit, Christmas might be late, but I think it’s finally here.”
All three men laugh, but the laughter is tight. They’re anxious to get it on, too. The big guy glares at Billy in silence… he has chosen his man.
“Look, boys, I’m going to ask you one more time,” I say keeping my voice low and steady. “Don’t start something we’ll all regret. These things have a way of getting out of hand. Just let us leave.”
The man to my front speaks again.
“Oh, we’ll let you leave all right, but we have to do a little business first. Then we might see if a nigger-lover bleeds the same as a nigger.”
The last word is punctuated with a grunt as he jumps forward and thrusts his knife in my direction.
He’s a bit short with his underhanded thrust and I actually have to move forward to get a good block on it and get his knife hand in the air. I hold his wrist and spin to his right, holding his arm over my head. Planting my feet, I bring his arm down hard on my shoulder. This boy is fucked… the sound is not unlike a dry branch breaking as the bone snaps above his elbow. He screams and the knife drops to the ground.
All this has taken less than two seconds. The second man, knife at his side stands looking at his partner, momentarily stunned. I release the lifeless arm and chop him hard across the throat as he goes down. He falls heavily to the sidewalk like the worthless sack of shit that he is.
I jump over his body and kick at the second man’s knee. I caught him with a glancing blow, but I didn’t hurt him enough to do any good. He isn’t easy to pursue since I’ve got to stay out of the way of that damn knife. I continue to attack, this time striking out with my left foot, but it’s a clean miss and all I succeed in doing is backing him off the curb.
Billy’s man gets caught up in the action momentarily and forgets about his business long enough for Bat to catch him flush on the jaw with a hard right. The punch sends him head first into the building where the unyielding stone deals him yet another blow. He rolls on his side and Billy finishes him with a solid size twelve in the face. Blood sprays acrossthe walk from the large gash that opens on the man’s forehead. Street fights aren’t very pretty.
It’s nice to know I can now give our remaining host my full attention. He’s unhurt, armed and pissed off for some reason. That makes two of us.
“Stay away you fucker or I’ll kill you!” he growls with defiance.
It’s strange how time changes attitudes. A few moments ago all I wanted to do was to get out of here. But that’s no longer the case. Right now I don’t want this to end. This boy is going to learn one of life’s brutal lessons… some days you get the bear… and some days the bear gets you. If he runs, I’ll run him down. No one’s going to leave this party… not now.
I step into the street and fake a kick at the man’s head with my left foot. He counters with a wild lunge, slightly losing his balance in the process. I continue forward with a straight kick to his ribs and this time I connect, breaking bones on contact. He grunts and his knife drops to the ground. Standing in a half-crouch, holding his side, he’s virtually helpless as I put him out of business with a round kick that crashes across the bridge of his nose.
One could argue the last kick wasn’t necessary, but there’s more to it than that. This way I don’t care what the law does with him. He’s going to hurt for a long time. In fact, I’d like to punish these boys some more, but I’m not sure my companions would go for it.
My first concern is Billy.
“You okay?”
Billy is shaking his right hand and working his fingers.
“Bastard’s got a hard head. I think I might have busted something.”
“If your fingers work then it shouldn’t be anything serious,” I say, watching him continue to work his hand. It might be horseshit but all the doctors seem to say that whenever anyone bangs up their hand.
“Nice working with you, Billy. We got lucky there… it could have been a bad time.”
I look over at A.J. and Lionel.
“Thanks, A.J., I know you didn’t want to stay out of it, but sometimes too many people can get in each other’s way.”
Lionel’s eyes and mouth are frozen in the open position and I’m not sure he’s even breathing.
“Holy shit!” he exclaims finally. “I’d heard you were a bad ass, Phil, but nobody ever said you were a fuckin’ train wreck. Shit, those assholes never had a chance.”
I ignore the rest of Lionel’s chatter as I walk over to check out our former adversaries.
“Let’s see what we have here,” I mutter mostly to myself, bending over the man with the broken arm. He’s lying on the ground with his head working back and forth as he tries to wipe the pain from his mind. His right arm extends from his body, but it has too many bends in it, at least one going in the wrong direction. The skin is swollen and turning blue from the internal bleeding. My companions watch quietly as I empty the man’s pockets and remove his watch and other jewelry. He offers no resistance.
“We have a watch, a gold bracelet, two gold chains and about three hundred dollars in cash,” I announce before moving on to the second man.
I continue with my work, while A.J. walks over to the curb and sits down.
“Phil, just what the fuck are you doing?” he asks with apparent interest.
I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing, but I decide to explain anyway so there won’t be any hard feelings.
“I’m doing unto others what they would like to have done unto me.”
A.J. puts his head in his hands and moves it slowly back and forth, moaning softly, “I don’t believe this… I’m working with a fucking mugger. You’re robbing these guys!”
I move on to the thir
d attacker and a few moments later, finished with my task, I again take inventory. “We have almost twelve hundred in cash, three watches, two bracelets and assorted gold chains. Not bad. Oh, and two knives.”
I stuff the loot into my pockets and start in the direction of our car. I don’t get very far before A.J. is at my side with his hand on my arm.
“Hey wait a minute… aren’t you going to do anything about those guys back there? They’re hurt bad.”
I continue to walk, not slowing my pace. I have no desire to remain here any longer.
“Fuck ‘em… hazards of the trade,” I explain.
“Jesus, Phil, their injuries might be serious. Don’t you care?”
Reluctantly I stop and turn to my employer.
“Look, A.J., you’re the boss. If you want to do something, I can’t stop you. A few minutes earlier those assholes held all the aces, or thought they did. Do you think they would give a shit if they had prevailed when we were working out our little disagreement back there? We were very lucky, plain and simple. We came out of a knife fight without a scratch.
“You’re right, they are badly hurt. But if you think I’m going to spend the rest of this night at a police station, answering stupid questions regarding how and why we kicked the shit out of three people who were trying to mug us, you’re crazy. Further, if you think I’m going to make it easy for one of those bastards to hire a scumbag lawyer to find us and sue us… you’re even crazier. As I said before, fuck ‘em.”
I pause for a minute to catch my breath and then continue in a voice so low, only A.J. can hear.
“And if you persist in this folly, then fuck you, too. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to answer your question… no, I don’t care.”
I have never sworn at A.J. before and I leave him with his mouth open as I turn away and continue ondown the street.
***
I arrive back at Joe’s valet parking and hand the claim ticket to the attendant who takes off on a dead run across the street to the car lot. My friends walk up quietly and stand at my side. My brief discussion with A.J. has left things a little strained among the four of us. Lionel breaks the silence.
“I hope you don’t ever fuck up in a way where I’ll be obliged to kick your ass, Phil. In fact I’ll make it stronger… I PRAY you never fuck up… “
He turns and punches Billy affectionately on the shoulder.
“That goes for you too, Bat.”
He steps off the curb and shadow boxes with a few punches and then stops and kicks awkwardly, his foot barely clearing the ground. He might have to specialize in broken ankles if he’s ever going to do anything with karate. It looks like any higher targets are out of the question.
“Damn, Phil, that was fun! Too bad Bat cold-cocked that other guy… he was big. It would have been interesting to see how an old fart like you would fare with a guy that size.”
Lionel is a ball-breaker and an icebreaker. Listening to his nonsense we all relax and pile into the car laughing.
Old fart, huh?
***
As the designated driver I have a good excuse to remain quiet on the way back to Doral. Lionel is still talking non-stop about the confrontation. He has Billy and A.J. laughing with his post-fight commentary. So far the story hasn’t ranged far from the facts, but it’s only a matter of time. In fact, it probably won’t be too long before he will be a full-fledged participant. There’s a lot of nervous energy hanging around and Lionel’s imagination, working in tandem with his natural reservoir of bullshit, seem to keep his mouth going without letup.
We pull up to the main building and turn the car over to the valet parking service. The others want to go to the bar and celebrate the victory. I’ve had enough excitement for one evening, so I beg off and head back to my room for some much needed quiet time. Besides, I think it would be better to let a little time pass before A.J. and I discuss what happened back there. Emotions were running a bit high and it would be unfortunate to let this thing color our relationship.
A.J. had the natural letdown of the victor. His former opponents, rendered harmless, he’s suddenly full of pity and understanding. I’m more of a trained finisher. Once attacked, I want to finish off my opponent once and for all. I want there to be no chance of a rematch. In this case I stopped short of killing them, but not because I wanted to. It was simply the more politic thing to do at the time. If one of us had been hurt or killed, I would have finished all three and neither A.J. nor anyone else would have stopped me.
I feel a strange emotional calm overcoming me as I step into my room. Leaning back, I close and lock the door behind me. I empty my pockets of the evening’s loot, put my jacket on a hanger and walk to a chair in the corner near the bed. Lights aren’t necessary… there’s a dim glow filtering through the edges of the drapes from the ground lamps outside. I sit in the chair next to my bed, shut my eyes… and let the night close in.
I will myself to breathe deep and slowly. Before long my body begins to relax and I feel the tension gradually drain away. My eyes remain closed and the tropical smells begin to make their way into the room… they permeate everything… my clothes, my skin… everything I touch. It’s quiet. The normal sounds of the animal world are silenced with the presence of humans.
I strain to hear him… I know he’s nearby… waiting for me, as I am waiting for him. We know one of us is about to die. Every sense is fighting for survival. I followed him out of the perimeter and lost him almost immediately, but I know he hasn’t gone far. This has to be one of the dumbest things I have ever done in my life. But I almost had him before he slipped past the wire! My eyes try to penetrate the dark without success. I quietly sniff the air for any strange smell… sweat, food, urine, anything. Afraid to move, I listen for the telltale rustle of a leaf or a branch. There’s nothing, not a sound. And then it happens.
With a rush of motion he charges silently from my right. How in the hell he found me is a mystery, but not one I’m going to dwell on right now. For some reason I move an instant before he lunges and the knife tears through my side instead of my heart. He’s not so lucky. My blade slides under his rib cage and I ride him to the ground, stifling his cries with my forearm. His body spasms as his life force leaves.
We lay together for several minutes, but only one of us is breathing heavily. I feel as though I have just run a marathon. Waves of pain and nausea sweep over me. I’m bleeding badly, but I will myself to remain conscious. I don’t want to die here. It’s not far to get to the safety of our position, but there might be more than one of these guys. If there is, I might not make it… I’m leaking big-time… it’s tough to breathe. Trying to move requires more strength than I can find. I feel like I’m drowning… a dizzy, falling sensation…
A distant pounding helps to keep me awake. It’s like a drum, so close. A weird question forms in my mind: What the hell would make a noise like a drum? Sounds like artillery fire, a long ways off. Holding my hand to my side, I try to stop the bleeding… there’s so much noise. It’s getting louder… louder. Shit, my side hurts… I need help. The pounding won’t stop. Still louder… like it’s right next to me.
Hell, it’s the door. Someone’s pounding on my door.
“Just a minute!” I call out, my voice cracking.
Crossing the room somewhat unsteadily, I feel my heart pounding like a jackhammer. My hand hits the light switch and I flick on the light before opening the door. Furtively, I check my hand for blood… I can’t helpit. It all seemed so real. Billy stands in the lighted hall with a smirk on his face.
“Want to go to another fight?”
“What’s up, Billy?” I ask, ignoring the question.
I’m not in the mood for any jokes right now.
“Lionel has called A.J. out… he wants to fight him.” Billy is smiling from ear to ear. “A.J. finally went too far and really pissed Lion
el off. They’re getting ready to go at it out by the putting green.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, my mind completely clear now. “Jesus, Bat, we can’t have them fighting. Even if A.J. is screwing around, someone could get hurt.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Phil,” Bat replies laughing. “The only reason I came to get you is to see if you’re interested in some entertainment tonight. So far things have been pretty tense.” He steps back and a strange look comes over his face. “Hey, man… you ever consider taking your clothes off before getting in the shower?”
For the first time I realize I’m soaking wet. The cool air of the room is starting to penetrate my skin and I shiver involuntarily. But there’s no time to explain or worry about it now. Bat may be right about the confrontation, but I don’t want to take any chances. I reach in the closet and grab my jacket. The door closes behind me and we start for the putting green.
Rounding the corner of the main building we can see two men silhouetted against the ground lights. Coming closer, we see A.J. standing with his hands on his hips, watching Lionel circle with his hands in a classic boxing position. Lionel’s feet shuffle back and forth as his head moves from side to side, slipping punches that aren’t there. He advances to within four or five feet of A.J. and then quickly backs away. Turning from side to side, this way and that, he continues to circle A.J. looking for an opening. He will need a large ring if he ever decides to turn professional. Something about the size of a super market parking lot might be the ticket.
A.J. greets us with a casual wave of his hand as we walk up to the arena.
“Hey, guys… what’s up?”
I nod to A.J. and then look at Lionel whose attention remains rigidly focused on his adversary. Billy covers his mouth with his sore hand… I suspect he’s smiling.
“What do you say, boys… why don’t we adjourn for a drink?” I offer.
“Love to, Phil,” A.J. replies without smiling, “but as you can see, I’m fighting right now.”
