by H. T. Night
“It was Dave.”
“What did he want?” She saw me looking at her hair and brushed her hair more seductively, giving me the eye for a moment.
I grinned a bit at her flirting, trying to keep on track. “It’s important. He needs to talk.”
“Talk to you further than he did with you on the phone?”
“Yeah, he didn’t say what it was about. He wants me to meet him at the beach.”
“It’s nighttime. Does he want to go on a moonlight walk along the coast?”
“I think it’s the furthest thing from that. I’m not sure if I want to leave you alone here. I don’t have a good feeling about this. I’m going to drive you over to your parents. I’ll tell Dave I’ll be a little longer.”
“Is it that serious?” Maya asked. She threw her hairbrush on the coffee table, annoyed. No more flirting from her in the next few minutes, I knew.
“We are dealing with werewolves. God only knows what it could be about.”
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, her big blue eyes filled with true concern.
“I’ll be fine. The pier where we are meeting is out in the open, so I’m pretty sure he’s not setting me up.”
“Do you think he’s capable of that?” Maya asked.
“My gut says ‘no.’ But we’re dealing with immortal dogs. I don’t know what stirs inside some of these guys. I trust Dave, and that’s all I know.”
So, Maya got ready and I took her home to her parents’ house. I gave her a giant hug and kiss goodbye, and then made my way to Huntington Beach. I took the 91 freeway to the 55 freeway. Then I jumped on the 22 freeway, and turned left on Beach Boulevard to Pacific Coast Highway. It took a while to find parking, but I managed to get a spot near the pier.
As I walked to the pier, I passed restaurants and shops that draped the beachside area. I loved the way the air smelled when I was this close to the beach at night. The salt air was fresh and invigorating and I inhaled, sucking in the scent of the ocean and everything and everyone on the pier—women’s perfume, men’s sweat, fish bait smells, sexual arousal of couples, and the occasional brown pelican with dead-fishy breath dozing on the railing. The pier overlooked the Pacific Ocean. It was around 9:00 p.m. and the ebony velvet night sky was painted liberally with stars. It was so romantic, so magnificent, that I almost wished I had brought Maya with me. Almost. It could be dangerous and my senses were sharp and aware of everything around me. But yeah, this was a happening date night place.
I spotted Dave right in front of a fishing shop, right at the end of the pier. Dave saw me and waved me over. He had blue jeans on with a large brown coat. I wasn’t as smart as Dave with my wardrobe. I only wore a long sleeved black T-shirt with blue jeans. It was getting chilly, but the curiosity was killing the cat, and I desperately needed to know what Dave wanted to talk to me about. My cold body would have to wait.
I walked up to Dave, and he and I shook hands and nodded at each other. There was a bench to the right of the pier that faced the water. We both walked over to it and sat down.
I sat there and stared straight ahead at the black ocean. “What’s up, Dave? You have me out here. So speak.”
“Tommy…”
“So, you’re calling me Tommy now?”
“Yes. This is serious. You know I’m legit, right?”
“Define legit?” I asked.
“You know I’m a real dude. I’m not full of shit.”
“I’m pretty good at reading bullshit, but every once in a while, a great bullshitter gets one by me. Are you a great bullshitter, Dave?” I still had no clue what he was talking about.
“I became your friend,” Dave continued, “because I genuinely liked you. I have seen a lot of people come in and out of my life since I’ve been on this earth, and you are definitely a unique and fascinating individual.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere. Go on.”
“I’m saying this to you because you have to know I didn’t have anything to gain being friends with you.”
“At first?” I said, leading him.
“Huh?”
“You’re saying at first you had nothing to gain. You basically want me to know that your original friendship was legit. But, somewhere along the way, someone or something changed that.”
“Someone tried to,” Dave said.
“Okay. Now we’re on to something,” I said. “Who is the someone?”
“The someone is Marcos.”
“Marcos, the bar owner? I should have guessed.”
“Tommy, he is more than a bar owner.”
“How so?”
“He’s a shot caller.”
“Shot caller?”
“We have shot callers. Us, as in Carni. We have guys that, for whatever reason, make important decisions that affect the rest of us.”
“That’s pretty ballsy. Who decides on who gets to be a shot caller?” I asked.
“It’s either through strength or money, or sometimes both. They become shot callers.”
“What shots, exactly, are they calling?”
“In regard to our Carni underground society, we have to police our own. We need to figure out which fight suits us best when it comes to the Mani. We are incredibly outnumbered in that regard. So we need to choose our own battles intelligently.”
“Why aren’t you a shot caller?”
“I’m neither strong nor rich. I am just old, experienced.”
“But you said a key word in that last bit of information you said to me. You said the word ‘intelligently.’ It seems to me that neither strength nor wealth make someone smart.”
“What are you saying?” Dave asked.
“I think you’re underplaying your role. I’m not sure why… but you’re not letting on how important you are. I see how others at the ranch up north revere you. Something tells me you have a bigger role. You might not be a shot caller, but you definitely have the ear of the shot caller.”
“Listen, Tommy. Do people listen to me? Of course they do. They have no choice but to listen for their own survival. Otherwise, most of them would be dead by now.”
“Shit. I don’t like where this conversation is going, but do go on,” I said. “I respect the hell out of you, old man, but if you aren’t top gun, then who is?”
“Marcos is arguably the most important Carni. His power is a whole ‘nother level of our hierarchy.”
“Marcos? Seriously?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’re saying that I happened to walk into the one bar—the one that is owned by the most important Carni? On the first night I did a reach out, I hit that kind of pay dirt? How did that happen?”
“The Triat drives some of us differently. The Triat wanted you to be there. That is why you were there, and that is why you met him. Don’t take that lightly.”
“We still haven’t gotten to the heart of the matter,” I said. “What exactly is Marcos trying to do?”
“He’s given me an ultimatum.”
“What kind of ultimatum?”
“He wants me to convince you to get back into fighting.”
“Well, that isn’t going to happen. It’s a decision I alone made.” I wasn’t sure what side Dave was on. There was no way I was offering up Maya’s name here. As far as he knew, it was 100 percent my decision. I’m glad I never told him the truth, that I had quit for Maya. “What did he say he would do if you couldn’t convince me?”
“He said he would kill me.”
“Kill you? What the fuck?” I was angry now, not angry at Dave, but at the way Marcos was trying to use Dave to manipulate me. “He can’t just kill you.”
“Yes, he can. And he doesn’t mess around.”
“Why does he give a shit if I fight or not? And how is it your life-or-death duty to convince me?”
“Because he wants to bet on you. He wants to be able to bet for you and against you. So, he made me his pawn. And if I fail, that’s it. I’m history.”
&
nbsp; “Against me, huh?” I said. “So, our friendship somewhere along the way turned into a courtship? A courtship where you try to get me to fight?”
“There hasn’t been any courtship. Have I ever brought it up?”
“Not yet. You’re doing a good job bringing it up now out here on a pier at the fucking beach.”
“Kyro, he has wanted me to do this for the last three months. I have completely avoided it. Not one time have I brought it up to you! I didn’t want to turn our friendship into making deals with you. You gotta know this, at some level, that I am forthright with you. You’re my packmate.”
I looked at Dave and I knew he was telling the truth. “So why now?” I asked.
“Because…” Dave stopped talking and tears burned his eyes. I could tell it was hard for him to talk to me freely because a part of him felt like he was betraying Marcos. But he was telling me the truth.
“So why here? Why now?” I repeated, trying to get him to cough it up.
“Tonight’s the ultimatum.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“Tonight’s the final night. He plans on killing me tonight if I don’t deliver you to him. Tonight.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He plans on killing you? Tonight? And you are here and not speeding out of California in your car?”
“He’d find me. There is no hiding from him. And Marcos has a lot of human debt. He owes a lot of rich people money. He needs a guaranteed horse in this race. He thinks you’ll be it.”
I shook my head at the absurdity of what was being asked of me. “I’d rather you figured out who these guys are that Marcos owes money to and we work for them. Fuck Marcos!”
“I knew you would feel that way.”
“So, what are you asking me to do? Why am I out here?”
“Marcos plans on killing me, possibly whether I get you on board or not. I have this feeling that he wants to eliminate me, possibly the last of the old guard, the old original werewolves from 500 years ago, so that he can get the wise men out of the way, so to speak, and rewrite werewolf history his way, like some fucking... mafia don. I can’t ask you to fight pro again, but what I can ask you to do is help me. I need for you to protect me.”
Poor Dave. To ask another man for protection was a pretty humble thing to do. I respected it because I respected him. “Of course, I will protect you, Dave.”
“Okay, that’s it, then. I’ll move in with you tonight.”
“Move in?”
“Yeah, the only way you can protect me is if we are sleeping underneath the same roof.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? If I’m alone, he’ll kill me.”
“Okay, look, he’s not going to kill you. Why don’t you and I go down to his bar and try to work something out with him?”
“What could we possibly work out?”
“Look, he’s already in trouble with these human thugs. What if I offer to help him? Help protect him.”
“Protect him? I don’t think it’ll work. They want money and he owes it to them. If you kill their thugs, they will just send more of them.”
“Hmmm. Maybe there is a combination of a couple of things we can do that will help both of us. Let’s get out of here. I’m freezing my ass off on this pier. Next time, can you pick a heated pool at a hotel or something?”
He nodded. Dave and I walked back to my Mustang in the parking structure.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dave asked as I started up the car and unlocked his door, then motioned for him to get in.
“If it was up to me, I wouldn’t do anything, Dave. You are the one who is so freaked out that this guy is going to kill you, that you had me meet you on a pier. Like some scene out of The Sopranos.”
“I just don’t know if you know what you’re getting yourself into by agreeing to protect me. When Marcos is in debt to someone, he becomes a whole new person. He’s not going to be that same fun-loving owner of a bar that you met a few months ago. He has gone seriously under since that night. And when I say under, I mean that he’s been dealing in dangerous liaisons to further his own agenda of power and control.”
“Fuck him. I’ll take my chances. I’m not afraid of anyone.”
“There is something else you need to know.”
“What?” I asked.
“Remember, when I told you that some Carni rise to the top of the werewolf food chain because of either money or strength?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Marcos is both. He is probably the fiercest Carni fighter out there.”
I laughed. “I doubt that. I’ve had a look at him. Take away his wallet and he doesn’t look like much.”
“Trust me when I tell you that he is.”
“If he was both those things, he wouldn’t be so chicken shit about owing some guy some money. Does he have money? Yes, he does. Can he fight pretty well? Probably. He definitely was built like a fire plug. But, you described a fear of being pushed around by the guys he owes money to. If a guy is tough enough, not even that will scare him. He doesn’t know fear.”
“Do you know fear?”
“Barely. I know adrenaline. I know what it feels like to fight for my life. There’s nothing on this Earth that’s as big of a rush than when you’re standing toe to toe with a guy and you’re not sure if he has you. Or if you have him.”
Dave looked at me and shook his head. “Well, at least I brought the right guy with me. Now the question will be, will we walk out of there alive?”
Chapter Fifteen
In about 45 minutes, we arrived in front of the ‘Bottoms Up!’ bar.
“Let’s go through the front so Marcos can see us coming,” Dave said.
“Don’t know any other way,” I said.
This time, we both just walked past the large bouncer at the front door. “Bro!” I said by way of greeting and we bumped knuckles. If things came down to a fight, it would be nice not to have Tiny coming up behind me with a baseball bat or something.
“Marcos was asking about you, Dave,” Tiny said as we walked by him.
“I bet he was,” Dave said. Dave gave me a look as if to say, ‘Here goes some drama.’
Inside the bar, it didn’t look much different than it did a couple of months ago. It was another big sausage fest. But this time, there weren’t any scantily clad woman hanging around. It must be terribly financially rough around here, being that there were no women around. Those kind of women were attracted to loose money and usually were the beneficiaries of such cash. When men have money to burn, one of the things they like to satisfy is the urge between their legs. But all of the arm candy girls seemed to have evaporated.
“He’s in the back. He’s expecting you,” a different bartender said to Dave. The bartender tonight was a tall, lanky, white guy with a goatee.
“Thanks, Ryan,” Dave said. I nodded politely at Ryan. He looked like a decent guy.
Dave led me to a room in the back. He knocked and a bigger gentleman answered the door. He peeked his hairy head out and looked at us and said, “Get in here.”
We stepped in and now I was on ‘high alert.’ ‘High alert’ is what I called it when I knew something could go down at any moment.
Marcos was playing poker with a group of men that made the Godfather crew look tame. Marcos saw me and smiled. “Nice to see you, Tommy. You play poker?”
“A little bit,” I said. “Apparently, I need to work on my etiquette.”
“Don’t we all? Why don’t you have a seat and get in on a hand?” Marcos said.
“Actually, if I could speak to you for a minute, I can get out of here and let you fellas finish your game. I won’t take ten minutes of your time.”
“Well, which is it? One minute or ten?” Marcos said.
I looked at Marcos and grinned with a smile that I knew did not reach my eyes. It was my deadly smile, the one I sometimes used just before I snapped and hit someone. This was where he would start breaking me down, tryi
ng to make me fight for him, and he would use Dave as a bargaining chip. “It will be closer to ten minutes,” I said in my deadly soft voice.
“Why don’t you have a seat in my office? I’ll be there when this hand is over.”
“Sounds good.” There was a little room to the side of the card table that appeared to be his office. Dave and I walked into his office, and Dave closed the door behind us.
Dave looked at me. “I know Marcos. This isn’t good. He never cares that much about a poker hand. He’s making us sweat.”
“He’s making you sweat. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Why wouldn’t you be? Your life isn’t being threatened.”
“Not yet,” I said. “I plan on that happening very shortly. If Marcos is the kind of guy I think he is, he won’t lead with that. Although, by the end of our conversation, I’m sure that the threat of your death will be on the table. He isn’t going to kill me. I’m his dog in the fight. And you’re with me, so trust me. We’ll get this all straightened out with Marcos.”
Dave raised his eyebrows and sighed, worried. I could smell his fear and it hurt me that he was that scared of Marcos, that fucker.
After about ten minutes of sitting in silence, the door opened and Marcos came in with two of his goons. Classic intimidation. Where did he learn his business methods? From a James Cagney movie? He had two guys about 6’5” each, and packing the power of 250 pounds on either side of him. Both had bald heads and thick beards. Like I said, goons.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get started.”
“Hold on, Tommy. I mean Kyro… I’ll say when we start.”
“You can say whatever you like, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re going to start,” I said, not allowing him to intimidate me.
Marcos stared at me with bewilderment. I think it had been a long time since someone had spoken to him like that; especially in his own bar, in his very own office. I didn’t take shit from anyone and I wasn’t about to start now.
Marcos sat behind his desk in his big office chair and leaned back, staring at me. “I can’t determine if you’re smart or stupid,” Marcos said to me.
“Try both. At least that’s what my grandmother says,” I said, not flinching.
