My My Little Prince

by Rod Lacy Rod Lacy

  Smitty tried to wrap his arms around Michelle once at the pool hall, but she told him to get away. Of course Evon laughed and told Michelle to relax. She said, “He's only trying to help, let him help. You can learn angles by playing pool.”

  Michelle was a natural though. She could slam the balls and she did learn the angles. Sherine was slower but she got pretty good too; good enough that she could beat many of the older men there, especially after they had a few drinks. She even won a few dollar bets.

  Evon said, “See Sherine, you can make a living now, you can become a professional pool player like Minnesota Fats.”

  “Whoever he was,” she thought. “Maybe Smitty was right, maybe I am a natural.”

  One thing she learned very clear though. The more she leaned over for the shots the more money she would win. She was becoming a good student. She learned to play pool and to hustle men, “just like mom”. She was learning more and more about men everyday then; lessons that would come in handy later in life.

  She told herself, “Yup, I’m putting together the pieces of the puzzle of life and testing my knowledge. I’m able to control almost any man in the pool hall. I can feel the rush I get when I lean over for the hard shots and see the men watching me with total desire. It’s like they’re under my spell. If I smile as I lean over at them, they don’t know what to do.” She marvelled at her own power. “I can see that they are nervous and excited, especially if they’re with their girlfriends or wives. Yup, I learned the power of my beauty. I can have any man I want and get anything I want from them, even the men that are taken.”

  Evon knew what was going on but she never said anything against it. She told Sherine and Michelle both that it was natural for a beautiful young girl to want to show off a little and that is was good for them. She always told them they were good girls to do it and that we all had to do our part to keep our house and to put food on the table. She’d say there was nothing wrong with a little tease now and then and that if the men wanted to give them a gift, well that was fine too.

  Then one night Sherine could hear her mother screaming at Smitty, “How in hell did you arrange this? A joint credit line account and I did not know about it? You have taken everything we had and hundreds of thousands we did not have. Where is the money? You lied to me, to us. You are nothing but a thief. Get out of this house! I should call the police; have you arrested. I can´t believe what I’ve been that stupid all these years.

  “I hate you,” Michelle was screaming too, “I’m calling Spinner, he will save us.” Michelle ran for the phone. Smitty slammed her in the face and tried to grab her but he fell. He was so drunk he could hardly walk. Michelle quickly called Spinner and he said he’d be right over with some of his friends to help.

  Evon screamed again, crying. She grabbed Michelle and asked if she was ok. Sherine walked over the the corner of the room not hearing anything that was going on, away from the door and sat down slowly smiling. Her body was limp. She mumbled, “I am playing happy and sad Mom, I´m OK Mom.”

  Evon screamed, “I’ve heard you on the phone a couple times in the past talking about your messes you had to clean up, but I did not want to believe it. You are a thief and a dangerous one. I know now. I will be sure you go to jail. I will not rest until you are behind bars.”

  Smitty turned slowly and looked at her. He could also see Sherine in the corner singing and smiling. He winked at her then he focused on Evon with full fury. He then blinked his eyes a few times as if he was waking up. With a look that would send shivers down a dead man’s spine, he very slowly and sternly said, “Really, you think you know me now... Count your days. I will be back. I will eliminate you.” He didn’t snarl, or yell. He was just clear and concise. It was like he was reporting the evening news. It had already happened. “You are all loose ends now and I hate loose ends. I will take care of you like I did all the others.”

  He looked at Michelle and told her that if Spinner came he would kill them all. Then he exploded and a heavy fist came from nowhere. It slammed into Michelle's left temporal region and knocked her against the wall. She slid down to the floor, stunned, next to Sherine. Sherine kept singing quietly to herself, “I ain't going to school no more.”

  Smitty straightened himself back up. He rubbed the back of his bruised knuckles and looked slowly, back and forth at all three of them. “You should be more careful whom you let into your life,” he laughed. “And when I’m back you will all wish you were in hell because hell will be a major improvement. I can guarantee that.”

  Evon and Michelle remained there silently and stared, too scared to move a muscle. Sherine smiled and said I will miss you Smitty, please be careful. Smitty looked at her and shook his head in disbelief, then turned and walked away slowly as if this was an everyday event. He truly was the monster that Michelle had seen right away and that even Sherine sometimes believed. Evon shuddered and said, “Oh God what have I done?” Sherine spoke with a smile and said, “He will come back again and kill us won't he?”

  “See, I remember it all, so how can I be crazy? A crazy person would not remember every little detail like I do. I am normal. What are they talking about”?

  6

  “I can’t believe that was so easy. A quick two hour flight and here I am in a brand new world; lots of money, endless time and ready to start again. Life is good.” He looked out his window as the plane taxied and continued his reverie. “Lots of sunshine here, beaches close, women ready for the picking …” Smitty had just landed in the Dominican Republic.

  As he walked through baggage claim his mind raced. “I wonder if Marilyn floated up to shore somewhere.” He stood at the baggage carrousel and watched as the bags ran by. He went back in time to see himself standing at the back of the boat watching Marilyn sink out of site. His vision tunnelled and he breathed in and out slowly. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, “seems like a million years ago.” A ringing bell brought him out of his fantasy. He opened his eyes to see the carrousel had stopped and his luggage was waiting for him. “Well, it has been a whole two days already … wow time passes fast when you are having fun. Now, one small surgery for insurance sake and I’m home free and ready to start a new adventure.

  He retrieved his bag and after paying ten bucks – some kind of tourist fee he gathered - he breezed through customs. “Man, they didn’t even look! I could have brought anything in. No dogs either. What a bunch of amateurs!”

  He walked out the sliding glass doors and left the air conditioning. He was surprised. It wasn’t nearly as hot as he had expected. Definitely a lot more pleasant than that clambake Florida he had just left.

  Once outside he was immediately accosted by a half dozen guys all dressed in different colored versions of the same matching shirts and their ubiquitous dark sunglasses. “Taxi! Taxi!” They were all shouting and jostling to get in front of him. Several others were hawking myriad items for sale. There were phones, phone cards and phone paraphernalia. Others had movie and music CD’s, many with newly released films not even in theatres yet. There were also water bottles, nuts of some kind, souvenirs and more; all available for the picking. “Well,” he smiled to himself, “I guess that old saying I heard is true, ‘Every day in the DR ten million entrepreneurs wake up!”

  “Yea, taxi” he yelled to one of the closest guys and a beat up Toyota slid in front of him. “You call this a cab?” he said as he got in.

  “Hola señor. Where you want go my fren? Where you live?” He winked a scarred eye and said “Ah, you want chicas? Muchas chicas muy muy bonitas! You want chicas señor? Mi inglés es muy bien yes? Habla español?”

  “Do I look like I speak Spanish? Stop with the questions, got it?”

  “Got what my fren?” the cabbie responded innocently.

  “Come on you idiot, just drive and stop with the questions, comprende?”

  “Oh, you want me not talk, yes senor, si' my fren?”

  “I’m not your fucking ‘fren’ either - make conversation with s
omeone else, not me. I'm tired and I do not want to hear you.”

  The cabbie’s English was bad, but not that bad. He got the idea so he shut up and started driving toward the airport exit. As they neared the exit the cabbie slowed, but Smitty was there, “Take me to the Clinic Of Plastic Surgery, the one near the Presidential Palace. It’s across the street from the Palace.”

  “Cirugía de plástico?” the cabbie said with a questioning look, wondering if his translation was correct and somehow sensing it had better be. He tried another guess; “Cirugía de plástico señor, cerca del edificio Congrecional?”

  “What are you saying? I want to go to the plastic surgery center near the Capital Building. The clinic; the clinic!”

  “Oh, sí, quiere la Clínica de cirugía plástica, si’ señor, cerca el Palacio Presidencial, no problema, muy rápido, no problema mi fren … mi amig … , uh si señor, es tres mil pesos y treinta minutos.”

  “That’s right; however you say it, just get me there. Make it fast too, they will close soon.

  The cabbie pulled into traffic and Smitty grimaced at all the trash, derelict cars and dilapidated buildings. Loud music beat its way through the closed taxi window at every stop. The driver said, “Es una buena clínica señor r; muchos extranjeros … foreigners, that go there. Muchas estrellas, you know, movie stars go there that do not want their real names to be known.” He gave a sudden start and looked hard in the rear view mirror, “Are you a movie star senor?”

  “I told you, stop with the BS! Just take me there.”

  “OK?” he ducked, “Sí señor, yes sir.”

  A few minutes later they arrived and the cabbie threw the heap into park. “This is it señor. That will be three thousand pesos,” he added nervously. Smitty peeled three one-thousand peso notes and some change from a wad and handed it over to the cabbie..

  “Ok, here, take it and keep the change,” he said as he thought, “Fuck me, I must be feeling rich today,

  “Do you wish I to wait for you señor?”

  “No, I´ll be a while.” He turned to go up the steps, thought better of it and turned back, “Hey, give me your cell number though in case I want to call you later.”

  The cabbie hesitated and then understood, “Ah, ok, mi numero, sí.” He pulled out his phone and, looking at the little window he pressed the button and said, “Listo? Ready? Es ocho cero ...”

  “No, no! Write it down you idiot! Christ, I’ve known fucking dust pans smarter than you! Don’t you even have a fucking card?” He’d had enough and he turned and stomped up the stairs. “Never mind, fuck it, you ask too many questions anyway, I'll find another.”

  The cabbie looked confused and said, “I'll get a pen and write for you … muy pronto,” and pushed past Smitty heading for the doors.

  “No, forget it, there are cabs everywhere.” He continued walking and went up and into the freezing air conditioning of the medical building. As the doors closed behind him he turned and watched the cabbie slap the roof of his car as he climbed in to leave, “that dumb idiot must be a rocket scientist.” He looked back around and took in the clinic’s cool modern interior and was impressed. “Damn this is as good a clinic as you’d find in Hollywood!” He let out a soft whistle, “Look at all the lovely lady’s photos on the walls.”

  He stopped and took off his sunglasses. “Looking better all the time baby! New life, lots of money and nothing to do but start my new adventure. Hey, isn’t that …” but at that moment he found himself looking at the receptionist. He stopped dead in his tracks for a second and swallowed hard. He mumbled to himself, “my god; look at the babe at the front desk. Ho-lee shit!”

  “Can I help you sir?” All he heard was a lovely tone that betrayed only the slightest hint of sexy accent. “Was that English,” he wondered.

  He composed himself and continued up to the desk. “Yes please, I want to see a surgeon.” He tried to give her his best self-deprecating smile. “You see, I hate my nose and I want to consult with a surgeon to see what can be done.” He leaned over dropping his head a bit and pointed to his mangled brow, and I have this little scar on my eye lid here that needs some attention.” His mind went back to the vision of Marilyn’s last breath. He shivered pleasantly with the help of the air conditioning.

  The front desk girl stared up at his eye and nodded. “Yes, of course. Please have a seat, Mister ... ”

  He turned and snapped at her; his old paranoid self; raising its ugly head, “uh, yes, mister, Mister Jones is just fine.” He caught himself and toned it down a bit, “Um, excuse me, I was told that no name was required here, you know a celebrity thing.”

  “Oh yes, of course, and I suspect you will be paying ... ”

  “Yes of course … cash.”

  “That is fine sir, excellent in fact. We offer a ten percent discount for cash,” she winked. “Please make yourself at home while I make a quick call. One of our fine surgeons will be right with you to answer all of your questions.”

  He sat down in a plush chair and perused some magazine. They were all the same. They seemed to be nothing but pictures of local wanna-be celebrities at various galas, charities and social events. A few minute later she called “Oh, here comes Dr. Sanchez now. English is best for you, right?”

  “Oh yes, English, definitely English,” he smiled.

  Dr. Sanchez entered the waiting area and introduced himself. “I'm Dr. Sanchez, it is certainly my pleasure to meet you, Mr. uh ...”

  “Mister Jones is fine,” he snapped back again.

  “OK, ok, ‘Mister Jones’ it is.” He smiled and touched his finger to his nose comically. “Please come into my office.” When they were settled and after Dr. Sanchez had offered beverages he asked “So ‘Mister Jones’, what brings you to our fine establishment today?”

  “I would like a complete lift and a chisel job on my nose ... and this scar over my eyelid, I don't want to forget that.”

  The doctor stood and turned an LED procedural lamp toward Smitty. The lamp had one of those bulbs shaped like a big ‘O’. He dropped a set of eye glasses off his forehead onto his thick nose and leaned in, studying his face. Struggling into a pair of rubber gloves, he took Smitty’s chin in a soft pudgy hand and turned it back and forth in the not-too-flattering light, slowly inspecting all. “Interesting scar,” he murmured as he rose and pushed back the light, switching it off. He sat on the edge of the desk and rubbed the back of his neck as he took the glasses from his nose. Inspecting them thru the ambient light of a window, he pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket. He breathed on the lenses and started methodically cleaning them. “Almost looks like someone bit you.”

  “You might say that. Yea, it is a love scar, from one that was drowning in love,” he said with a smile and then continued, “I want a new look Doc.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “No, you may not. If you must ask why, then I must go elsewhere.”

  “No, no.” Dr. Sanchez stood and gently placed his hands on Smitty’s shoulders. “I'd be more than happy to not ask any question, hey, it's your body, right?”

  “Ok now, that is what I like to hear.”

  Sanchez walked back around his desk and sat. He shuffled the mouse on his computer to wake it up and Smitty leaned forward. “And Doc, I am not the sort of person you want to fail with, you dig me? I trust the surgery will be perfect, right?”

  Dr. Sanchez’s eyes widened, “Of course sir, I am the best and I pride myself on my reputation.” He sat up haughtily and jerked his lapels, straightening his lab coat. No one said a word for a minute then Sanchez leaned over the desk getting a better look at his face once again. He rose and came back around the desk pulling a skin marker from a front pocket. He turned the lamp back on and repositioned it in front of Smitty’s face. “Do you mind sir,” he asked as he held the thick pen up for Smitty to see. Smitty nodded.

  He dropped his glasses in place once more and began to make small dots and small lines on Smitty’s hard face and said, “Well Mr.,
uh, sorry, uh, I think if we pulled a little here …” He pointed to a small fine line from the angle of the chin to the lateral upper right lip. … and, if we angle the nose here just a little …” he then placed a dot over the upper nostril, “… you will be happy with the new look. You will look much younger and certainly more sophisticated. I bet even your friends would have a hard time recognizing you. That is what you want right? Mr. Jones?”

  “No questions, let’s just stick to the topic, doctor, my personal life is my business … remember?”

  “Yes, yes of course.”

  “When can we do this?” Sanchez had given him what appeared to be a moist towelette and a mirror. Smitty began removing the ink marks, surprised at how easily they came off.

  “How soon do you want it done?” He sat back down at his computer.

  “The sooner the better for me.”

  Dr. Sanchez looked at this computer and said, “We so happen to have an opening day after tomorrow ... Wednesday, early morning. How’s that sound?”

  “Perfect, I’ll take it.” Smitty stood, ready to go.

  “OK, Wednesday morning it is then ... 6 AM now. Oh, and no food or drink of any kind for eight hours before the surgery. The professional fee is ... ”