Hammer of the Gods

by B. D. MacCallum

  Chapter 33

  Old Memories Calling

  Or:

  It’s 11:41 P.M. With Half a Bottle To Go

  The scent of lavender soap was faint but there; it had been for days. Felix Kahalawal’s eyes darted around the room, searching for someone he knew he’d never see again; at least, not in this life anyway. Thor had the soap especially made in a little town in France for Chelsea Gillard; the last time Felix smelled it was just before they sealed her body in a mausoleum.

  His mama would’ve said Chelsea was trying to tell him something and he needed to listen, but his mama came from the islands, and believed all sorts of superstitious nonsense. All Felix knew, it was getting more difficult to concentrate on business.

  He gave Jenna a wave and the sultry brunette brought over a Scotch over ice – Thor called him a heathen for the ice, saying it was a sin to ruin perfectly good whiskey like that. – and two aspirins for his headache. He waved-off the green-eyed beauty’s suggestion of a bite to eat and she hurried off to serve paying customers. The view of Jenna’s rear, and those long, shapely legs flowing from her tight, black skirt was song inspiring.

  There was, however, no way Felix would ever do anything but look, no matter how much she smiled at him; Jenna was the hardest working person in the joint – besides himself. She kept the waitresses on their toes, the other bartenders honest, came in every Sunday morning to do an inventory, and could rival the Spanish Inquisition if things didn’t add up. Felix would rather cut off his own cock than fuck up what he and Jenna had.

  Felix chewed the aspirin to a pulp, letting it dissolve, before taking a swallow of the Scotch. His eyes floated around the room, studying the young men and women dancing to the pulsating music, the losers trying to pick-up girls, the girls toying with the losers for drinks, and his crew.

  There was a flow to this place; much like the Willamette running through the city. There was a high tide, a low tide, a current that could pull you under if you weren’t careful, and, every now and then, you saw a piece of trash floating by that pissed you right the fuck off.

  There was an odd vibe to Kepolo tonight, something Felix couldn’t quite put his finger on. Sure, things appeared fabulous. Business was up, the joint was jumping, people were smiling and having a great time, and some bastard was even trying to impress a girl with 21-year-old Scotch, at $20 a shot. God bless that moron. He’s gone through half the bottle, already! Instincts told him, there was something lurking under the still surface, swimming against the current.

  Even Fat Tony was acting strange, which says a lot considering the man refuses to touch digital equipment because it sucks the soul out of the music, and turns people into mindless, tasteless zombies. He stopped playing that generic, bullshit music early on, keeping the tunes a little closer to home, and judging by the way he kept spinning out the classic dance tunes, he was on a one-man-crusade to bring back the glory days of disco clubs in a single night.

  The young ones didn’t seem to mind Tony’s trip down a memory lane the man was born too late for, in fact, they kept egging him on, requesting tunes in a futile attempt to stump him. The joke was on them, however, Tony had two offices filled with shelves of vinyl in the back of the club, and whined that he needed more space – the $180,000, six-turntable set-up that Uncle Thor provided proving how well the man could whine. If Tony didn’t have the song, it wasn’t worth having.

  The little runt must’ve been feeling nostalgic long before this evening, he spent most of the day picking through the shelve like a ferret until he needed a dolly to move tonight’s music, and he kept his cousin, Frankie, sweating like a meatloaf, running back for more. Most club owners wouldn’t hire the man for his vinyl-purest mentality, but Felix would beg Tony to stay, and double his salary if need be. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!

  Felix laughed when Boombastic started. The last time he heard that song, Thor was trying to get over breaking up with that Italian chick, Gina. Thor cleared one of the small dance floors, and started to strip, while girls climbed over each other to shove dollar bills down his shorts; Jenna offering to empty her tip jar if he took those off. By the end of the dance, there wasn’t a dry pair of panties in the house, and a lot of losers got very lucky when Thor left with a hot, little redhead.

  She was hotter after she came back looking for Thor, and I told her he sailed away!

  Then, Thor always did have that special something that drew you in, like a moth to a flame. Too bad he’s the unluckiest bastard on earth when it came to being happy. That poor man couldn’t catch a break in that department with a swimming pool-sized mitt coated with pine tar; which is probably why he tries so hard to make everyone around him happy instead.

  Felix tossed back the rest of the Scotch, letting a few ice cubes fill his mouth to crunch on. Time to play host. He plastered a smile on his face, mingled with the crowd, weaving his way through dancers, giving encouragement to gawkers once the ice was gone.

  The song Give up the funk started playing, forcing a sad smile to Felix’s face; that was Chelsea’s favorite song, she would drag Thor up to dance whenever it came on the radio.

  Chelsea was crazy like that; dancing at the drop of a hat, singing on a crowded Met car, and smiling. That girl always had a smile on her face, especially if she was getting under Thor’s skin – which she made it her life’s mission to do. Felix always wondered what would’ve become of those two if…

  They’d probably be married, with a little one running around for Uncle Felix to show him how to pick up girls and…

  He shook his head; that road had the tendency to bring the worst out in him. The night was going too well to let him fuck it up by hitting someone out of misguided anger.

  He concentrated on a group of young women on the large dance floor, letting himself be drawn into their revelry as they moved to the rhythm. He smiled, nodding his approval to the hot Latina nearest him as she gave him a wink. They were an up-beat bunch of girls, just the kind he liked in the club; laughing and dancing, buying drinks, and getting young men buying drinks, as well. Nothing makes a young man part with cash faster than an alcohol-induced thought he actually had a chance with a woman out of his league.

  Felix would’ve kept moving, if not for that damned whiff of lavender soap. He paused, studying the women. There was a girl in the back with long, straight light-brown hair, dancing with her back to him, showing the girls around her how to dance to Walk the dinosaur, like the dancers in the video. Between the flashing lights and the crowd, it was damned impossible to see her clearly, but he had the feeling he knew her. A second later, he saw her brown leather jacket, tight jeans and boots. His heart skipped a beat, his jaw fell slack, and his mouth became as dry as desert sand.

  “Chelsea?!” he said softly, moving toward her, parting the dancers like a bull. “Chelsea?!” he said louder, grabbing her by the shoulder, spinning her around. The girl staring up at him, startled and nervous, was definitely not Chelsea. How could she be? Chelsea’s dead!

  “I’m so sorry,” Felix apologized as fast as he could. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “That’s okay,” the girl said, through a nervous smile. “It happens.”

  “I could be Chelsea for you, big man,” the Latina said, moving closer.

  Felix gave a quick smile. “Some other time,” he said, gently squeezing her shoulder. The Latina’s frown was exaggerated, and Felix added: “I’ll have a round of drinks sent to your table… to make up for your disappointment.”

  He stopped Zoe – particularly because he knew she would follow his instructions to the letter – and had a round of drinks sent to the girls’ table. “And just one round on the house,” he said, cocking his head. He was apologetic, not crazy. Scaring the shit out of some poor girl didn’t warrant tossing profits away like yesterday’s trash.

  “You got it, boss,” the jet-black haired waitress said, her heavily eye-shadowed- eyes scanning the women. Her black lipstick-coated lips turned upward into an e
vil smile, and she rushed-off with her loaded tray. Felix wondered if he had just made a mistake; the spiked collar around Zoe’s neck wasn’t just an accessory, she wrapped it around her fist in a fight.

  He joked with Mikki, swearing that she and Zoe must be long-lost sisters. The memory of that conversation forced his tongue to unconsciously run over the gold tooth.

  There was no time to worry about Zoe now; three of his bouncers exploded from the men’s room, carrying a squirming figure between them, headed for his office. Jesse followed close behind, gritting his teeth and glaring at the crowd, as if searching for something to kill. He glanced at Felix, shaking his head in disgust, then slammed one of the new bouncers off the back wall before disappearing down the dark hall.

  Felix sighed, lowering his head; this was the worst part of owning a nightclub. He gestured a “Calm down, it’s alright” motion to the new man shooting him an apologetic and scared look.

  He headed toward his office, wishing he had taken Jenna’s suggestion on that bite to eat. He plastered the smile back on his face, winding his way through the crowd, making quick apologies for not having time at the moment and shaking hands as he went.

  Bobby McCoy was already squirming in the chair before Felix’s desk, when the big man closed the door behind him, and with good reason, this was Bobby’s third time sitting in that chair. At least, that explains Jesse’s mood; and why the new guy was scared shitless.

  Felix eased himself into the leather, high-backed chair behind the mahogany desk – a graduation gift from Thor – and drummed his fingers on the desktop, staring into Bobby’s pleading brown eyes. Jesse, the fiercest man Felix knew, tossed two bags of pills on the desk without a word. Bobby started to speak in his defense, but fell silent as Felix raised a hand, staring down at the bags containing Ecstasy and Molly.

  “Any Ruffies or Crystal Meth?” Felix asked, hoping the answer was yes, so he could be done with this little asshole.

  “No way, man,” Bobby objected. “There’s no way I’d bring Ruffies in here!” The man was terrified at the mention of the drug. The wide-spread rumor was the one, and only, person to bring the date-rape drug into Kepolo was castrated and left to die in the woods. It was a lie, of course; started by Thor, but it kept that shit out of the club. No man wants his dick cut off, not even a low-life piece of shit.

  “If he has any,” Jesse said dryly, “it’s up his ass. And I’m not going in after it!”

  “J…J… Just the Ecstasy and Molly, Felix,” Bobby stammered. “I swear!” Sweat formed on his forehead, his eyes darting in every direction, hoping to escape what he feared would come next.

  The problem was, Felix wasn’t sure what came next. This was uncharted territory, and he had no plan. Most people took the first hint, and never came back; little Bobby McCoy, however, was a persistent bastard.

  “What part of zero tolerance didn’t you understand, Bobby?” Felix stared into his eyes, trying to relate the seriousness as best he could. “You had the shit kicked out of you, the first time we caught you selling that shit in my club. The second time you were caught, you went to jail, after spending a month in the hospital. Now, we’ve reached untested ground, and I have to set precedence. You do know what precedence means?”

  “Of course I do,” Bobby McCoy said, straightening the collar of his suit jacket. Felix had to hand it to the man; gold rings on two fingers, a diamond earring, a nice suit, and clean. He was well kept for a low-level drug dealer. Then Bobby ruined the illusion by adding: “They’re the guys running the country.”

  Felix sighed. “Precedence means: unless something incredibly horrible happens to you, more dumb-fucks will think I’m going soft, and bring drugs into my club. I just can’t let that happen; I run a clean joint. If people don’t feel safe, they don’t come. They don’t come, I go broke. I go broke, I can’t pay my hard-working employees; like Jesse, here. If Jesse doesn’t get paid, he gets ugly, and does very cruel things. Isn’t that right, Jesse?”

  “That’s a stone-cold fact,” Jesse replied, staring down at Bobby.

  “W… What are you going to do to me, Felix?” Bobby started squirming more, his eyes darting longingly toward the door, as if he stood a chance in hell of making it three feet before being thrown to the ground.

  “Now, there’s your problem!” Felix said, emphasizing his words with a slap to the desktop, then pointing to Bobby’s face, “You’re selfish. You’re making this all about you! What about the position you’ve put me in?” Felix was sounding so much like his mama, it was scaring the shit out of him. “You’ve got the whole city to peddle this shit, but you chose to bring it in here. Now, I have to deal with your fuck-up. Where’s the justice in that?”

  Felix’s eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of lavender soap wafting through his office. “Do you smell anything, Jesse, lavender maybe?”

  The other man wrinkled his nose. “I think Bobby just shit himself, but no lavender.”

  Felix stared blankly at the man seated across the desk, not seeing Bobby’s face, but the five sons-of-bitches that drugged Chelsea, took her to a filthy warehouse, and…and… Felix balled his hands into tight, white-knuckled fists, gritting his teeth. He knew if Chelsea were here, she would say show mercy. The only problem with that, Felix had no mercy, not when it came to something like this.

  Felix took a deep breath, counting to ten… twice, then at the man across the desk “This is your lucky day, Bobby,” he said, smiling.

  “It is?” The man seemed more confused than Felix felt watching a Japanese game show.

  “It is.” Felix tossed the bags of drugs to Bobby. “You’re gonna walk out of my club, and not come back. If you do come back, I’ll beat you to death, personally… in front of your mama.”

  “Oh, god.” Bobby gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you. you won’t regret this!”

  “I know.” Felix nodded toward the door, and the man scrambled to freedom. Felix turned to Jesse. “In two days, I want him in excruciating pain before he dies. I want it outsourced, and very public. I don’t care what the cost.”

  Jesse nodded, then followed the drug dealer to make sure he was seen by as many people as possible, leaving the club, unharmed.

  Felix closed the door to his office, watching the monitor as Bobby made his way from the club. The idiot was smiling like he just won the lottery, and stooped to flirt with some girls. At least, the condemned man had the good sense not to peddle the shit in his pockets on the way out; Felix would’ve felt compelled to snap his neck in the parking lot no matter who saw it happen.

  Felix watched Jenna crack the seal on the second bottle of 21-year-old, and take it to a table near the rear of the club. She laughed and flirted with the men at the table – but not enough to piss off the women with them – She was a pro when it came to that sort of shit.– then return to the bar with a wad of cash and half the bottle. That makes $600 – plus the cost of the other drinks and tips – Mister Happy has dropped within the last two hours. Felix zoomed-in on the table, saving the image to hard drive, just in case Mister Happy had other plans than impressing a girl.

  Felix eased back into his desk chair, slipping his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t superstitious like his parents, or anyone else he knew that came from the islands, but not even he could deny the signs when they slapped him in the face. He had the feeling Thor had gotten himself into trouble, and couldn’t get out. There wasn’t any use calling Thor, he’d lie to Felix’s face if he thought the truth would put him in danger, and Felix knew it.

  He dialed the one person that would tell the truth, without pulling the punches: Mikki. She’d rat out Thor in a New York minute, if the fool were in trouble. Besides, he’d use any excuse to give that woman a call; she’s the only woman Felix pictured himself settling down with, even if she did bite hard enough to draw blood during sex. At least, I haven’t needed stiches, yet! He smiled to himself.

  The call went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Sugah, leave a message.”
>
  Felix hung up without leaving a message, and immediately dialed the next number.

  “What can I do for ya, big man,” Julia’s voice answered, out of breath.

  “I’m probably being stupid,” Felix said, hoping he was right. “But is everything alright?”

  “No,” Julia said. “Mikki’s dead, an Thor’s plannin’ a killin’ rampage.”

  Felix felt as if stabbed in the gut, and could feel the color drain from his face. “How? What happened? Never mind, I’m on my way!”

  There was a pause as Julia shouted orders to someone. “We ain’t stayin’ here! Call back in two hours; I’ll know where we’ll be by den.” Felix heard her yell at one of the crew to move faster before the connection was cut.

  I’m sorry I didn’t listen to Chelsea sooner, Mikki. But, I swear, Thor won’t be along on that killing rampage!

  He dialed another number.

  “Hello,” the female voice said, after only one ring.

  Mama’s been telling me to listen for days, and I blew it off as bullshit. God, why didn’t i just humor the woman, and call days ago? “Mama,” Felix’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

  “I know… When do you leave?”

  “I’m going home to pack a bag.” Felix stared at the photograph of the last family picnic, taken just a few weeks ago. Everyone was laughing and joking so much, it took the photographer six attempts to get the shot he wanted. That “perfect shot” proved to be more elusive than making a Christmas-card-photo not appear creepy as shit. This framed-photograph was filled with people bursting with laughter, or with goofy looks, and more than a few peace-signs held behind an unsuspecting victim. It was, however, Felix’s idea of perfect. “I love you, Mama.”

  “Felix…” There was no need for her to finish.

  “I will, Mama.”