A well-dressed distinguished looking gentleman with a neatly groomed beard, tight short afro and shock of gray hair on the right side of his temple came over to Havoc’s table and sat down across from him. He had the refined look of a 1920’s jazz musician and pulled out a cigar case, removed a Havana then turned to Havoc.
“You mind?” The elder gentleman asked and Havoc shook his head. Smitty nodded ‘Thanks’, clipped the end, lit it, and puffed. “Women, can’t live with ‘em. Can’t kill ‘em without going to jail.” he winked through a haze of smoke.
“Damn, am I that transparent?” Havoc asked.
“Like a friggin glass house.” Smitty said.
Havoc smiled and held out his palm. “Happy New Year, old dog.”
Smitty slapped his palm and replied, “Happy New Year, young pup.”
The two laughed for a minute then Smitty said, “So what’s up with the sad face Youngblood? It’s New Year’s.”
“Actually, I was just thinking about the new year.” Havoc sighed staring at the happy couples on the dance floor.
Smitty watched him watching the dancers then asked, “Nicky?”
Havoc sipped his beer and nodded. “It’s been over two years since the divorce.”
“Yes, Nicky was a gem.” Smitty said.
“Man I don’t even know why I’m sitting here trippin. I swear love is a maximum of bullshit and a minimum of pleasure!”
Smitty shifted the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other without using his hands. “You don’t really mean that.”
“Don’t I?”
Just then Ava swayed by carrying a tray of colorful drinks and almost bumped into another waitress stealing a peak at Havoc. “Now see, if I was smart I’d accept her invite and go back to her crib and ride that like a Big Wheel til the sun comes up.” Havoc said.
Smitty shook his head and bit down hard on his cigar. It hurt him to the core to see the young man looking so sad when he cared about him so much. He had known Havoc all his life and only wanted the best for him. If he had it in his power to get what it was that Havoc was pining over he would have done it instantly, but some things a man has to achieve on his own. The wise older gentleman knew a hell of a lot about achieving things out of one’s reach. Dropping out of high school to help take care of his family closed the door on his dreams of going to college. But his fierce desire to succeed made him determined to do more with his life than get drunk and blame the white man for his ill fortune. An ambitious street hustler, Smitty ran both a numbers hole and back door card game until he had enough money stashed to go legit and open his own highly successful nightclub. Many years later after developing a close bond with the streets, he learned that the little boy who used to beg him for ice cream money whenever Mr. Softee drove down the block, had in fact become the infamous Trouble Consultant he was hearing about who beat down punks, pushers, pimps and perverts for a profit. Deeply concerned for the young man’s welfare he tried to get him to quit his dangerous profession before it caught up to him and offered to put him through college on his own dime, but the young man didn’t accept charity. Plus had other plans. And although Smitty didn’t agree with them, he did respect them. After all he was young and full of vigor once himself and back then nobody could tell him anything either.
“But you’re smart. That’s why you aren’t wasting your time on no teenyboppers. But at the same token you can’t just give up on finding happiness because things aren’t going your way. Every day you put your clothes on and they just get dirty again. So, what’re you gonna do? Stop getting dressed? Of course not.” Smitty said answering his own question.
Havoc gave him a half nod like he somewhat understood what Smitty was getting at then poured out the last of his beer into his mug. “Let’s change the subject. This is depressing the hell out of me. So, my Mom and I are throwing Tee-Tee a birthday party next Friday. Everybody is gonna be there. Think you can make it?”
“Damn, where’d the time go? You betcha. I can’t miss your baby sister’s big day and have her getting all hinkty with me.” Smitty said with a hint of Southern flavor.
“Hinkty?” Havoc cracked up like Smitty just told a joke. “Man, you moved to New York in what? Thirty-seven? And you still sound like you’re from Alabama.”
Smitty shrugged unfazed by the young man’s teasing. “So where’s this party gonna be at and what time should I show up?”
Havoc rolled his eyes. He knew once he answered he’d be right back on the subject he just finished dismissing. With a sigh he uttered, “Around three-ish…and it’s gonna be at…” Smitty raised his eyebrows and gestured for Havoc to spit it out. “…Nicky’s.”
“Solid,” Smitty nodded and continued puffing. Havoc was dumbfounded. He expected something, anything but funky smoke.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said the party’s gonna be at Nicky’s.”
“I heard you the first time Young blood no need to repeat it.” Smitty said reaching for a curly fry.
“I expected you to have a comment.”
“I ain’t get this far in life by stating the obvious.”
“And that would be?”
Smitty shook his head at Havoc like he should already know. He was about to explain the writing on the wall when DJ Hurricane began arguing with a man in front of his booth…
“Yo son why is it that you’ve been taking requests all night from other folks but ain’t put my jam on yet?” the angry man demanded.
Dressed in a Malcolm X baseball cap, a 40 Acres and a Mule jersey, and leather Africa shaped medallion, DJ Hurricane shook his head sadly at the drunken man. “Number one I am not your son. Number two N.W.A.’s, A Bitch is a Bitch, is an inappropriate song to play for a room full of black women.”
“But it ain’t fo dem ho’s! It’s strictly for da niggas!” The drunk laughed ignorantly showing off his huge gums and baby teeth as women glared in his direction.
“Just what I need, ignorance personified.” DJ Hurricane said.
“Yo Money why is you dissing me?”
“Nobody’s dissing you. Truth be told, you’re doing a damn good job all by yourself.”
“What the hell kinda DJ is you supposed to be? Talking out the side of your neck about you don’t like gangsta rap music.”
“Let me explain something to you. The definition of music is the art of organizing tones to produce a coherent sequence of sounds intended to elicit an esthetic response to the listener, which don’t have jack shit to do with being violent, sexist or misogynistic.” Hurricane said breaking it down for him.
The blank look on N.W.A.’s number one fan’s face said he was utterly and completely dumbfounded. “Fuck you!”
“Great comeback,”
Gabriel noticed the two arguing and came over. “Hurricane is there a problem here?”
The troublemaker looked the swollen bouncer up and down and twitched his lips like he was unimpressed. “Ain’t no problem Full Force. Why? -You looking for one?”
Gabriel rolled his eyes, not in the mood. “Okay buddy you’ve had way too much to drink, so why don’t you go home and sleep it off.” He suggested following Smitty’s code of bouncer etiquette that said, be nice, until you can no longer be nice.
“Back up off me or so help me I’ll stick a pin in your buffed ass and let the air out.”
“Now see that’s why black people don’t have anything now because we don’t know how to go into a place and act properly.” Hurricane said.
“Man ain’t nobody trying to hear all that Malcom X-clan preaching shit Farrakhan.”
Smitty excused himself from the table and stormed over visibly pissed off. This was exactly why he was seriously considering banning kids 21 and under from coming into his establishment. He did not need the aggravation regardless how much more revenue the younger crowd brought in.
He looked at his DJ for an explanation. “Boss, this guy here wants me to play a song that is degrading to women and
I told him no.” Hurricane complained.
Smitty nodded then turned to the troublemaker. “Looka’ here Slick, here at Smitty’s we try to present a certain image where people can come to relax and party in a positive atmosphere without feeling offended. And by playing that junk you call music, it would be greatly be tarnished. Now if that’s what floats your boat, fine, I could care less, but I don’t think my club is the place for you.”
“Oh, so now I gotta go cause of my taste in music?”
“No, you gotta go because you’re preventing people from having a good time.”
The man looked around at all the annoyed faces staring at him. “Fuck you and your tired ass club old man.”
“Okay that’s it. You’re outta here!” Gabriel said and grabbed his arm.
The punk snatched free from his grip and grabbed the neck of a beer bottle from a nearby table and broke it across the bouncer’s nose taking him down quick then turned on Smitty holding out the jagged glass in a threating manner. “So what’s up old man you want some too?”
Smitty shook his head and re-lit his stogie then took a puff, “Me? Naw, I never get physical. Not my style. I get upset. But the fact of the matter is when I get upset, he-” the older gentleman said pointing over his shoulder at Havoc who rose out of his seat cracking his knuckles with a twisted sneer. “-gets physical!”
The punk swallowed hard as the angry-face man in red with a physique that defied physics, stormed over and melted his heart with an intimidating stare and asked. “Sup?” Unable to look Havoc in the eyes, he dropped his vision to the floor. Havoc glanced at Gabriel then at the bottle the punk was clutching then back at the punk. “You seem to be pretty popular up in here. But have you met my good friend table yet?” he asked the confused punk. “No? Then allow me to introduce you. Table-meet face!” The Trouble Consultant said and palmed the back of the coward’s neck then brought his head down fast, smashing his face against table and splitting it half. The pummeled man hit the floor. Afterwards Havoc looked around unfazed and spotted Ava in the shock-faced crowd, “I’ll take a coupla’ cheeseburgers to go.”
Chapter 5
The scene outside of Smitty’s was a people watcher’s paradise as the urban scenery bustled with colorful, loud police and ambulance sirens. After Smitty finished giving a full report to the cops about the drama that unfolded inside of his club, they pulled off with the broken nosed troublemaker handcuffed in the backseat. Smitty then went over to the orange and white ambulance bound for Kings County Hospital and spoke with paramedics as Gabriel sat inside holding an ice pack over his own swollen nose. After being reassured that his friend and employee would be fine and that his injuries were not as bad as they looked he patted him on the shoulder, then let him go. Havoc stepped out of the noisy crowd and Smitty smiled proudly.
“Thanks for lending a hand back there Young blood.” Smitty said to Havoc as he escorted him to his car.
“Glad I could be of service. I just hope the big guy’s gonna be alright.”
“Who Gabe? He’s one tough son of a gun. That fool just caught him by surprise is all.” Smitty said shaking his head.
“So, has anything like this ever happened before?” Havoc asked.
“Not as bad as tonight, but there have been a couple of incidents where Gabe had to roll up his sleeves. Lately, it’s been happening all over the city. I swear the youth of today take a lot for granted. They have no idea what brothers like Frank Embree and sisters like Sarah Bartman endured for us. But I sure as hell do! Growing up in Bombmingham Alabama I’ve seen our people bitten by police dogs and hosed down by fire hoses just because they wanted to sit at a counter and eat a meal or get a decent education. And here these young fools have everything at their fingertips. Opportunities that were unheard of only a few short years ago but instead of taking advantage and advancing, they’d rather walk around in a fog with their pants sagging and having multiple kids by multiple partners…aw forget it!” Smitty said sounding frustrated.
Havoc opened his car door and Mayhem jumped out excited to see her owner. “How’s my girl doing?” he asked as he kneeled to receive a hug from her. By the way her tail wagged in greeting, he could tell how badly she wished she could talk back to him. “Hey, I got something for you,” he smiled opening up the doggy bag and tossed her the cheeseburgers that she caught in the air and devoured. After licking her chops, the large dog recognized Smitty and came over for more affection.
“Does she even own a leash?” Smitty asked giving the large dog a scratch under her chin.
“Mayhem’s not exactly the kind of dog you want to put on a leash,” Havoc said.
“So, lemme ask you something. If you’re such a bad ass, how come you need her in the first place?” he teased.
“I wouldn’t be in this line of work if I was a creampuff. But it’s like this. Teaming up with a Bullmastiff is like buying a life insurance policy. You might not need it right away, but it’s good to know you got it in reserve just in case you’ve got to deal with a situation you can’t handle on your own.”
“I heard that. So what the hell are you feeding her? She’s huge.”
“She puts away a 15-pound bag and a case of dog food a week.” Havoc said proudly.
Smitty whistled astonished. “A week? Damn. I guess kicking ass and taking names must pay well.”
“I do alright.”
“Alright enough to have stashed away enough revenue so you can retire and get a normal job?” he asked hopeful.
“Normal is a setting on a washing machine. And retire and do what exactly? Paint pictures of happy bushes with Bob Ross?”
Smitty shook his head. “I don’t get you. If you feel the need to risk your neck and make a buck then why not become a bounty hunter and catch skip tracers?”
“And split the profits with some lazy ass bails bondsman? No way Jose!”
“Then how’s about a cop?”
“Me, a cop? That’s funny,” Havoc laughed.
“What’s so funny? You can still save the world and it’s a helluva lot safer. If you took the test, which I know a smart guy like you would score high. You’d be training at the academy in under a few months. Detective in a couple’a years.”
Havoc looked at Smitty oddly. “Aside from the fact I wouldn’t pass the drug test, I am not trying to save the world. Plus, I can make in two to three jobs what cops bring home in a month.”
“Young blood, money is only something you need in case you don’t die tomorrow.” Smitty said wholeheartedly.
“Well I feel fine. So I’ll be needing that chedda’ today.”
“You will never see a U-Haul behind a hearse. No matter how much chedda’ you make, you can’t take it with you. The Egyptians tried and all they got was robbed.” Smitty shook his head in frustration. “I’m just saying what you do doesn’t have much security, but it does have a whole lot of risk. You know it’s never too late to become what you might have been. Go back to college. Get your degree-” Havoc’s expression said he was not in the mood for a lecture and for the older gentleman to back off. “Okay-Okay. No need to ice grill me like that Young blood. Shit, it’s cold enough out here as it is.” Smitty rubbed his hands for friction. “Let’s warm up inside your car. We need to talk.” he said and walked around to the passenger side. “Hell’s the matter with you?” he asked when Havoc was still standing there with a bothered look on his face.
“Nothing. It’s just that I have this thing about people sitting in my ride.”
Smitty looked insulted. “Last I heard I was your father and that should carry more weight than just, ‘people’.”
“Pop you know I didn’t mean it like that.” Havoc groaned. Smitty waved at his son like this wasn’t up for debate and opened the door then climbed in. It was too cold to argue so Havoc opened the back door so his dog could climb in, closed it shut, then slid behind the wheel. “Okay what’s so important? And please don’t let it be about me going back to college.
Depending on your major, a degree is nothing but a high-priced piece of toilet paper.” Havoc said switching on the engine and the heat.
Smitty sat quietly brain wrestling with what was on his mind then turned to his son. “When was the last time you saw your cousin Alonzo?”
“Who Bug-Out? I dropped that knuckle head off at his crib earlier on the way here. What do you want with him?”
“Look, I know you and your cousin are tight and all but-” Havoc held up his hand to respectfully stifle his Dad.
“Pop I already know what you’re going to say, so let me stop you right there. I heard the rumors too. And that’s all they are, rumors. I’m not about to accuse him of being nobody’s addict. And as his uncle you should give him the benefit of the doubt too.”
Smitty predicted his son to come to his cousin’s defense just like when they were kids. That’s why he had proof. “You know a two-time loser named Dead Broke?”
“Yeah I know that piece of shit. He was on the three-train peddling sign language cards fronting like he was deaf.” Havoc nodded with a frown. “I have no use for him whatsoever. No one does.”
“Word on the street is the owners of just about every bodega and five and dime store in Brooklyn are after him and your cousin.”
“What for?”
“Shoplifting and trading in five-dollar rolls of dimes filled with pennies for paper money. They’re also selling VCR boxes with bricks or wet newspapers inside.”
“If you’re dumb enough to do business with or buy anything from those two you deserve to get got,” Havoc reasoned.
“You always seem to have the answer for everything, tell me what you would do if somebody hired you to consult your cousin?”
Havoc shot his father a serious look. “Aw man get serious.”
Havoc and Mayhem Page 6
