by Jack Tunney
Simbari towered over the German, and for a minute I thought he was gonna start kicking the guy while he was down. I started forward before I knew what I was doing, but Sandbag hooked an arm through mine and held me back.
“You wanna stay here, Mickey.” Sandbag spoke quietly into my ear, having to tiptoe to get the job done. “Just let it go. This ain’t none of our lookout. The cap’n needs us back at the ship, not mixed up in something like this.”
The ref musta been thinking the same thing about Simbari, because he caught hold of the fighter and pulled him back, waving him to his corner. Simbari didn’t go at first, then finally spat on his victim – and that was how I was thinking of the poor guy at that moment, a victim – and walked away.
Well, the crowd went nuts. I didn’t know how many winners was out there, probably most of the locals and the bookies, but everybody seemed pretty happy at the mauling they’d just seen.
I was disgusted, couldn’t get shut of the place fast enough. I turned from Sandbag and started making my way through the crowd. About that time, I spotted the waitress serving drinks a short distance ahead of me. While I was watching her, a hard guy said something to her, whispering in her ear, and she turned around and smacked him one in the kisser with that little fist.
ROUND 8
Things went south pretty quick after that. The waitress laid into the sailor with Spanish talk that was too rapid for me to follow, but I had me a pretty good idea of what she was saying. The guy she’d punched shook his head like he couldn’t believe it, then wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand. He growled curses at her, but she stood up to him and yelled right back at him.
I didn’t know if she figured she could go toe-to-toe with the brute in a yelling contest, or if she was just too angry to let it go. Either way, the bruiser wasn’t interested in losing a swearing contest. He knuckled up a big, callused hand and drew it back to hit her.
By that time, I’d made my way through the crowd. I reached out, caught the man’s elbow, and spun him around to face me. He hesitated a beat once he got there, then fired a punch at my head, but I slapped it away before it got close. He had plenty of muscle behind the punch, so I knew he felt pretty good about his chances.
I gave him that cold look that Patrick used to say I could do so well, the one that would make a guy realize he was taking his own life in his hands if he decided to cross me. But that guy was pretty confident in himself, or maybe he was just drunk enough to be feeling his oats. Or – in the darkness – maybe he didn’t get a good look at me.
“You really don’t wanna do this.” I gave him the warning. Figured I owed it to him ’cause he’d been drinking.
The waitress backed off and didn’t look too happy about me interfering, like maybe I was cutting in on her action. She folded her arms and glared at me.
I was so busy watching her, trying to figure out what I’d done that was so bad, that I didn’t see the guy in front of me pull up a big left hand and punch me square in the side of the jaw. My cheek split on the inside of my mouth and I tasted a rush of blood. He clipped me another couple times while I regrouped, and I was thinking maybe he wasn’t as drunk as he’d acted.
The crowd around us thinned, spreading out and giving us our space. By that time, I had my head back on straight and was feeling embarrassed at getting cold-cocked so easy.
He tried that left hand again, but I blocked it away with my right forearm, stepped toward him and punched him in the stomach, twisting my hips to make sure I had plenty behind it. He bellowed like a bull, but I cut that off short with another punch to his face. He was strong, no question about that, and he could take a punch. His head went out and came back just as quick, like a yoyo. I stepped in again and smashed a hook into the side of his jaw that blew out his candle.
Unconscious, the guy toppled backward and got caught by three of his buddies. For a minute they talked tough, like they was gonna pick up where their buddy left off, but in the end it was all glares and curses. When they realized they really didn’t want a piece of me and stepped back with their sleeping playmate, I lowered my hands but I stayed ready.
A harsh voice cracked across the basement. “Get those bums outta here.”
Some of the security guys in the basement snapped to attention and
I spared a glance at the ring and saw Simbari hanging onto the ropes, glaring at me.
“You heard me.” Simbari waved a glove at the security guys, egging them on. “Get those bums outta here.”
I didn’t let it get under my skin. I was headed out the door anyway, but I figured Simbari didn’t like nobody upstaging his glory. Still, I didn’t like being sent away like no mutt either. I turned around to face him to let him know I wasn’t scared of him.
That was when the waitress took me by the hand and pulled. “If you stand there, he will have his men take you out into the alley and break your legs.”
The threat didn’t scare me none neither. I knew Sandbag and the boys would have my back, just like I’d have theirs, but I didn’t need no grief my first night out on the town neither. The cap’n would blow a gasket.
Besides, the waitress was pulling me along and I thought I owed her that since I’d stepped into her problem. I went, but I gave Simbari a smile all the same.
He glared at me as the waitress guided me through the crowd and up the stairs. I told Sandbag and the boys I’d see them back at the ship. Sandbag nodded and grinned.
Topside, the waitress kept me moving and I let her. I liked the way her hand fit in mine and I didn’t wanna end that anytime soon. She kept muttering through her breath as she pulled us through the crowd. The guys upstairs gave ground easily.
She spoke to the bartender in Spanish, which I spoke well enough to follow since she wasn’t in as much of a hurry as she’d been downstairs. “Filiberto. I am leaving.”
Filiberto was a husky guy with a cigar in the corner of his mouth and a bar towel over one shoulder. He filled beers from the tap and nodded. “You are walking away from money, Estefania.”
I perked up at the name. Estefania was pretty and different. And she hadn’t let go of my hand.
“The money will be here again tomorrow.” Estefania waved at him. She stopped near the door and took a jacket from a wall rack.
Filiberto nodded and put beers on the bar, then scooped in the dollars that was waiting on him. “Be careful. You know the streets are not safe at this time of night.”
Estefania said nothing as she pulled me through the door after her.
ROUND 9
Outside, Estefania let go of my hand and I missed the warmth and the strength of her grip. Swinging the jacket around her shoulders, she pulled it on. She walked down the block and I followed, trailing her like a lost puppy.
She snapped a glance at me. “What are you doing?”
I shrugged and felt sheepish. “I dunno. I wasn’t the one that decided to leave.”
Estefania blew out a quick breath that sent a lock of hair flying and sounded as frustrated as all get out. “Men. You are all so stupid.”
“You wanna talk stupid?” I admit, I was a little miffed because I didn’t know what was what at the moment, and I didn’t like being confused. “Punching that guy in the mouth back there, that was pretty stupid.”
“Yet I was not the one he punched.”
She had a point. I still tasted blood.
“I would have ducked his punch and kicked him in his cojones.” Estefania frowned at me. “This is something I have done many times before.”
I stepped a little to the side and gave her more room, in case she felt like doing it again. “I didn’t think he would hit me.”
“Hah! Then you are a fool. Men in bars, they always hit you.”
I shook my head. “Not me. Some of them show good sense. Like his buddies.”
She looked at me again. This time she smiled, and I thought it was in spite of herself. “I suppose this is true. You are quite large.”
I shrugged
as we threaded through the sidewalk crowded with looky-loos and window shoppers that hadn’t decided on a club for the night. Havana got a lot of action from the locals and the tourists.
“But so is a bull, and it is not very smart either.” Estefania pulled her attention back to the sidewalk traffic. I had to step lively to keep up. “A bull usually ends up on a plate somewhere.”
I got a little peeved at that. Maybe she figured she’d saved me from a pounding down in the basement, but I was beginning to feel like I’d rather go ten rounds against a dozen guys than trail after her and get insulted.
“Maybe we’d be better off not talking.”
Estefania shot me an unpleasant look. “You should find someone else to follow.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Yet, there you are.”
“I’m walking you home.”
“No, you’re not.” She laughed at me like I was an idiot.
I put a little more force into my voice. “Yes, I am. Filiberto back there told you the streets wasn’t safe.”
“I walk myself home every night.”
“No you don’t.”
“How would you know?”
“The way Filiberto made it sound, you don’t.”
She didn’t say anything to that.
“So how much farther is your home, ’cause I’m telling you now that I’m getting tired of the company.” That wasn’t true, but I was feeling a little raw.
“Then you should find better company.”
“I will. Soon as I get you home.”
“Do not exhaust yourself over me.”
“I’m not. I don’t mind stretching my legs. Night air can be good for you.”
Cars whistled by out on the street and I couldn’t help noticing that a lot of them was new American models. That meant some ship somewhere was bringing them in from the mainland. I figured I’d tell the cap’n about the shipping possibilities, but I also figured he probably already knew. The Italians was making big changes in the city. The cars matched up with the glitz and glamor of the casinos and hotels, shoving aside the Old World pirate town that Havana had been.
Then I realized that the pirates hadn’t left. They’d just put on flashy suits and imported American cars. Things hadn’t improved, just changed, and not necessarily for the better of the people that lived here.
Estefania jammed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and ignored me for a while. That was okay because I liked my own company and there was plenty to see.
She sighed and stopped, wheeling to face me. “If you keep following me, I am going to call the police.”
Over her shoulder, I spotted a police cruiser easing down the street. I shrugged. “Long as the cop will take you home, that’s fine by me.” I nodded. “There’s one now. Want me to flag him down?” I stepped toward the curb and started to raise my arm.
“Idiot.” Estefania seized my arm in hers and pulled me back along the sidewalk. The police car slowed down just a moment to check us out, then passed on. “The police here are just as dangerous as the Italians. Many of them work for Meyer Lansky and the others.”
“If you say so.” I happily matched my gait to hers.
“I do. This is a dangerous town.”
“All the more reason to walk you home.”
Frowning, she looked up at me. “Do you make a habit out of rescuing women?”
“I try not to. It gets me into a lot of trouble sometimes.” I shrugged. “But I can’t walk away from it either.”
She considered me for a moment. “Do you have a name?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
I made her wait.
Frustrated, she gave in. “What is your name?”
“Michael Flynn. My friends call me Mick.”
“I will call you Mr. Flynn.”
Ouch. She gave as good as she took. But she tightened her grip on my arm and leaned into me for warmth when the wind picked up.
“Have you eaten, Mr. Flynn?”
I had, but I’m a big guy. I knew I could eat again, no problem.
ROUND 10
Estefania took me to a little hole-in-the-wall place back off the main drag. The restaurant was small, a mom and pop joint that didn’t waste any money on the frills and extras, but was filled with the scent of heaven. Even though it had only been a short time since I’d eaten, when we tucked into a corner table and Estefania ordered for us, I ate like a starved hound.
At first, I was embarrassed by my manners, but then I noticed that Estefania wasn’t shy about putting away the grub either. We didn’t talk while we demolished our plates and drank beer. I liked that she was a beer drinker.
Afterward, we had coffee and I enjoyed the company. Estefania was more pleasant now, and I wondered if I’d just caught her off her feed earlier. She was a talker when she got started, too, but I wasn’t no slouch when it came to spinning a tale or two.
She told me about Havana, and I told her about some of the places I’d been. She wanted to go to the United States, not to Miami because she figured that wasn’t much different than Havana. I didn’t correct her. Her dream was going to Los Angeles, to Hollywood.
“I have seen some of the movie stars, you know.” She held her coffee cup in her hands and peered at me over it. “I have seen them here in Havana. Errol Flynn. Ava Gardner. William Holden.” She smiled at the memory, and I noticed she had a nice smile.
I sipped my coffee and didn’t say anything. Movie stars didn’t mean much to me, but I liked Lauren Bacall. Sometimes overseas, I’d catch a radio broadcast of her and Humphrey Bogart doing Bold Venture, a series supposedly set in Havana. I loved her voice. And I liked Bogart because Father Tim liked Bogart and had taken the boys to a few matinees where his pictures was showing.
“I think I would like very much to see Hollywood.”
“Then you should.”
Estefania shook her head. “It is a big dream.”
“Dreams are what keep us going.”
She looked at me in surprise, and truth to tell, I was kinda surprised I’d said that too. I blamed it on the beer and the mood set by the candle-lit restaurant.
“So what are your dreams, Mr. Flynn?”
I shrugged. “Don’t have any.”
“No?” She arched an eyebrow and I liked the way she did that.
“No.” I thought a minute because I knew she wasn’t gonna let it go. “I was overseas in Korea. I fought in the war.”
She sobered up at that and leaned back a little.
“Once I got out of there, I just wanted to see as much of the world as I could. So I’m sailing with Wide Bertha and seeing what I can see.”
“You do not have a family?”
“A brother. Patrick. He lives in Los Angeles. He’s seen plenty of movie stars, and I got to tell you, he ain’t that impressed.”
She smiled. “No parents?”
I shook my head. “Me and Patrick lost them when we was young. Grew up in an orphanage.”
“I am sorry. I did not mean to bring up bad memories.”
I grinned at her. “Except for the nuns, the memories ain’t so bad. Me and Patrick was close. Father Tim taught us to box. We grew up and got on with our lives. I can’t kick about that.”
“Still, it is a terrible thing to grow up without parents.”
“You still have yours?”
She nodded. “My father.” She sipped her coffee. “He was a fisherman, but there was an accident that crushed his legs. He is crippled and I take care of him.”
“Must be tough.”
“Some days, yes. Some days, no.” Estefania looked at me. “I love him very much. That makes a difference.”
“Yeah, I guess it would.”
“That’s why I work at the bar. To provide for my father and me.”
“What about your mother?”
“She left my father – and me – after the accident. I was twelve. Those years…were very hard. We barely got by, but we did. Then
I started working as a maid in the hotels when I turned fifteen and things got better.” She smiled proudly. “Now, we don’t have much, but we have each other, you know?”
I nodded. “Family’s important.”
“It is most important.” Estefania glanced at a clock on the wall. “And I should be getting home soon. My father will be worried about me.”
“Sure. Now, just so we’re clear, may I walk you home?”
She smiled at me. “Wouldn’t you do that anyway?”
“Yes, but it’s better to ask.”
Her cheeks dimpled and she looked very pretty. “Then, since you are a gentleman, I will allow it.”
It had been a long time since I had met anyone like Estefania.
***
Before we left, Estefania got a dinner to go for her father. Then I walked her home, her arm through mine as she leaned on me.
We reached a small apartment building a few blocks away in a neighborhood that reminded me of where I grew up in Chicago in St. Vincent’s. There wasn’t as much hope in that neighborhood as there was desperation.
Estefania stopped me at the door to the building. She smiled up at me. “This is as far as you go.”
I was disappointed, but I nodded. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”
“Thank you for dinner. And for walking me home. That was most kind.”
“It was my pleasure.” I hesitated. “Look, we’re gonna be in port for a few days while the cap’n squares things away. Maybe I could take you to dinner again? Maybe a movie where you could look at some of them Hollywood stars?”
“I would like that.” Estefania stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. Then she told me good night and went into the building.
I turned my steps back toward Wide Bertha and touched my tongue to the split in my cheek. The night hadn’t been bad at all.
ROUND 11
The morning, though, turned lousy.
Me and the crew was shifting cargo, offloading the stuff we’d brung and making room for new cargo the cap’n would be taking on, when Falcone and his boys showed up. The early afternoon sun beat down on me like a hammer to an anvil, and the breeze coming in off the Caribbean wasn’t hardly enough to help cool me even though I was stripped to the waist.
