The Trouble Consultant’s eye tightened at the disrespect. Then in a flash his hand darted out like a cobra and clamped onto Lights-Out’s wrist that held the lighter. “What’d you call me?” Lights-Out was taken by surprise by both Havoc’s speed and strength as he unsuccessfully tried to pull his wrist back.
“Motherfucker lemme go!” Lights-Out protested borderline begging. Havoc disobeyed his request and twisted Lights-Out’s wrist upright. “Hey man what the hell are you doing?” Lights-Out demanded.
Havoc ignored him and filled his cheeks till they were bulging with whisky and slammed the shot glass down on the bar.
“Oh no!” Lights-Out whispered when he realized what was about to go down.
Havoc wiggled his eyebrows at Lights-Out then spit the liquor in the troublemaker’s face. When the alcohol came into contact with the burning Bic it ignited, creating a blow torch that scorched his face. Lights-Out screamed frantically beating himself about the neck and face. After putting himself out, he twisted just in time to read the word ‘HAVOC’ on the four-fingered ring as he was brutally knocked to the floor. Havoc then stepped over him as his homeboys surrounded him with evil looks.
The Trouble Consultant grinned like this was his most favorite thing in the whole wide world and quickly incapacitated the closest thug by splitting his lip down to the gum with the back of his fist taking him out of the fight. The man on Havoc’s right advanced and Havoc deflected his attack then grabbed him by the shoulders and head butted him to sleep. Three others decided to jump him while one stood frozen with fear. Havoc struck the solar plexus of two of their necks temporarily dazing them then push-kicked the third attacker away. Returning to the two simpletons holding their throats, he unleashed punches and strikes to their faces and guts then smashed them together scattering their teeth. The third inexperienced fighter recovered and threw his entire arm forward with a misguided punch. Havoc shifted out of the way brutally side elbowing him in the head, gained control of his arm then lifted him in the air culminating in an epic body slam to the ground.
With those foes taken care of Havoc tuned to the remaining punk still frozen in place. Glancing over his friends laid out, he cowardly spun on his heels and bolted for the door but it was locked. He frantically looked around for an alternate escape route and spotted Roxanne standing there. “Open the door!” the punk demanded. “Did you hear what I said, faggot?”
Something inside Roxanne snapped and he clenched his fist. Suddenly every bully who ever teased and tormented him from adolescent to adulthood for being who he was, stood before him. He squeezed his eyes shut and swung. When he opened his eyes, the punk was lying at his feet stretched out cold and he took a bow as Shantae and the others cheered, ‘You go gurl!’
As Havoc nodded his acclaim, Lights-Out stood up behind him with smoke coming off of him and the word ‘HAVOC’ imprinted on his face. Havoc turned around, took one look at the human billboard, snickered and snatched a cue stick off a nearby pool table then tossed it to him. Lights-Out caught it confused.
“I’m curious to see if I’m as bad as I think I am.” Havoc explained cracking his knuckles.
Lights-Out snarled and swung the cue stick missing Havoc by a mile and the Trouble Consultant immediately went to work. He didn’t crack his skull, he didn’t crush his larynx and he didn’t break his ribs or punch his hand through his chest. He did just enough, to keep him out of the hospital.
Once Lights-Out was down for the count, Havoc put the heel of his right Adidas on his chest and looked deep into his raccoon eyes. “The way I see it you’ve got one of two options. We can tango again and I assure you this time I won’t go as easy on you. Or you and your confused crew can agitate the gravel and never darken the door with your ugly faces again. The choice is yours.”
Without saying a word, Lights-Out staggered to his feet then he and his crew left with bruised bodies and shattered egos as the club’s patrons tossed them goodbye kisses. Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’ fittingly played and the party was back in full swing.
After Roxanne paid Havoc for a job well done Shantae offered him a drink on the house but the ever-busy Trouble Consultant graciously declined because he had somewhere else to be.
Chapter 8
It was a whirlwind romance straight out of a Hollywood screenplay. A college night watchman named Eduardo Salvador routinely stops in the Junior’s Restaurant across the street from his place of work at the Long Island University campus every night for a slice of strawberry cheesecake and cup of Café Bustelo just so he can be waited on by Cynthia Sanchez, an elegant Dominican waitress that he has a secret crush on. One night, Eduardo works up the nerve and tells Cynthia that he thinks she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and that he would like to take her out on a date. Cynthia is flattered but turns him down. She does however take his phone number. A week later she calls him, only after praying to St. Ann, the Dominican patron of single women. The two began dating and two months later Eduardo proposes with a glittering diamond.
Within a year a beautiful baby girl named Jennifer was born, that’s when things started to change. Eduardo began to feel tied down. Stifled. He started seeing other women, but he also wanted to keep Cynthia around selfishly. When she attempted to leave he turned violent even threatening her at gunpoint while their daughter looked on. The police were called and they removed Eduardo but he still lingered around, standing outside her window for hours attempting to woo her back by serenading her with their wedding song, Consuelo Velasquez’ “Besame mucho.” When she called the police, he disappeared. With her child suffering from nightmares and her nerves on edge from threatening phone calls, Cynthia finally called the number on the black card her best girlfriend gave her when she was experiencing a similar situation.
Sporting a well put together red ensemble, Havoc blended into the red leather booth in the back of Junior’s Restaurant like a chameleon. Once the hunk of cherry cheesecake vanished from his plate. he chased it down with coffee then dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
“That hit the spot,” Havoc said pushing the plate away.
“Bendito,” Cynthia smiled, “Would ju’ like another slice?” she asked in a lilting Spanish accent. She loved to watch a man eat.
“Nah, I’m straight.” Havoc said patting his stomach. “So go on, continue your story.”
Cynthia paused, unsure if she should continue. Up until now she had been uncomfortable with sharing her story of pain and heartbreak. “There’s really no more to tell. Like I said my husband he beat me and I had him put out, then he began showing up outside my building. Peeking through my window. I reported it to the precinct and they said there was nothing else they could do. He called me today, said he wanted to get back together for our daughter. ‘Put it behind us, he says’. But how am I supposed to pretend he wasn’t with other women? That he never beat me and threatened to kill me with his gun? No, not even for my daughter would I take him back!”
Havoc sat forward in his seat and folded his hands under his chin watching her with pity in his eyes. He got more spousal abuse calls than any others. Sadly enough, they were his bread and butter. He looked Cynthia over. She was gorgeous with an olive complexion, full red lips, long flowing strawberry blonde hair and shimmering jade eyes. What kind of man would hit a beautiful Boricua like her, or any woman for that matter?
“You mentioned he carries a weapon?” Havoc asked.
“Si,” Cynthia nodded and blew a cloud of smoke then flicked the ashes from her Virginia Slim into a glass of water. “It’s for his job but he always keeps it on him. Even when he sleeps.”
Havoc leaned back and thoughtfully took a sip from his coffee. “I’ve heard enough. I’ll take you on as a client. My fee is…” he paused just short of saying one thousand flat and that he expected half up front then he realized there was no way a single mother working as a waitress could come up with that type of cash. Plus, the fat bonus Roxanne just paid him more t
han covered her half. “Five hundred. And I expect half up front. Also I need at least a week to check out your husband and make sure your story is legit. We can start with the police report you filed against him.”
“But why when I just es’plain to ju’ what kind of a man he is.” Cynthia said annoyed by his request.
“Sorry Mamacita, but it’s how I do things. Take it or leave it.” Havoc said fixing a hard stare on her, his expression betrayed nothing.
Cynthia pulled out a large wad of bills which made the Trouble Consultant wonder where a waitress would get so much money from. She counted out two hundred and fifty dollars smacking each one down hard on the table while mumbling something in Spanish under her breath. Havoc was not fluent in her language but recognized a couple unflattering words he knew were aimed at him. He was unfazed by the sudden change in her behavior since it was this very type of human detail he looked out for when deciding to take on a client.
Cynthia paused and looked up with a suck of the teeth, “Can’t ju’ just trust me and do dis on my word?” she said trying to hypnotize him with her long lashes.
Havoc scrunched up his face, “Trust you? Miss, I don’t know you from a hole in the wall.”
Cynthia was about to hand over the money then stopped just short of putting it into his hands. Her sweet demur evaporated into thin air. She sucked her teeth then dropped her cigarette into the glass and leaned forward. The gleam faded from her eyes and revealed the person whom she really was, “Okay here’s the real deal. I’ve been trying everything I could think of to get out of my marriage but he wouldn’t leave.” She said clearly and unapologetically.
Havoc sighed at the transformation. “Proceed.” he said through a glare detecting bullshit.
“Yo Mera don’t be judging me when you don’t even know how it was. Look I tried to be a good wife honest to God, but he is so freaking boring!” she said then gave her situation some thought, “But I will take part of the blame.”
“How generous of you.” Havoc said.
“I should’a known better than to marry a man almost three times my age. But he was nice you know? Respectable. Not like them stupid guys from the projects who only want to sell drugs and shoot each other. But all he does is work his loser job and come home and go to bed and that’s it. We hardly even had sex because he’s forever bitching about being tired. And when we did try it…God, I don’t even wanna go there. So, I got tired of all his nonsense and got me a tender-roni that knows how to make me happy. Three times in a row! Ed couldn’t take the hint so I told him, ‘Look Poppi this marriage thing, it ain’t working out. So the best thing for us is to do is get it annulled.’ But he told me, ‘No Cynthia please I don’t want to break up! I love you!’ and started crying. God I hate to see a man cry. It’s-”
“Pathetic,” Havoc rolled his eyes thinking that’s exactly what she was.
“Exactly. I even told him about my new man Carlos and he said that he didn’t care and that he still loved me. Stupid Cabron! So I was like fuck it I’ma just bounce, but then he threatened to sue for custody of my daughter. He said he’d tell the courts that I’m an unfit mother who associates with criminals and that I drink too much if I left. That’s when I got to thinking-”
“That I could persuade him to back off so you and Carlos can be free to do whatever and still keep your daughter?” Havoc said shaking his head. “Lemme’ guess. Carlos is from the projects, sells drugs and shoots people and makes lots of cash. But he’s not like those other stupid guys because he loves you. So much that he said he’ll take care of you and your daughter?” he said purposely repeating the traits of the kind of man she not even two minutes ago said she’d sworn off of.
As his point sailed over her empty head, Cynthia was dumbfounded by his astute ability to predict what she was about to say before saying it. “Wow, are you related to Dionne Warwick or something?”
“Or something.” He said staring at her in disbelief. Mind blown.
“Well since we have an understanding, don’t beat him up too bad. After all he’s still my baby’s daddy-I think.” she snickered.
“Wow,” Havoc shook his head.
“And he still gotta work, you know?” she winked.
Havoc stood up abruptly and slid into his coat. “Nah, I don’t know!”
“Wait, where you going? I thought that’s what you did. Bust sucka’s asses for money.”
“Oh I do,”
“Then what does it take to hire you?”
Havoc met her cold glare with his own. “Money and a just cause.”
“And this ain’t one?”
“Your old man doesn’t deserve to get his ass kicked. But he does need a good swift kick up the ass so he’ll wake up and recognize how trifling you are. And speaking of trifling, what the hell happened to your thick ass accent?”
“I figured you’d have sympathy for a poor abused single mother who don’t speak good English.” Cynthia shrugged with a sly grin. “So, let’s get down to business. I could pay more. You say you wanted five hundred? What if I pay you double?” Cynthia asked digging into her purse.
Havoc laughed at himself when he heard her offer his going rate which he cut in half because he pitied her. He frowned at Carlos’ money like it was crawling with maggots. “Sweetheart you don’t have enough money in your little bag of tricks to buy me.” he said putting on his red Kangol then headed for the door and looked back at her. “Just be glad I don’t take cases against Putas!” and with that said he was gone.
Havoc and Mayhem Page 12
