Miami Bound

by Henry Morgan

  Outside of a forest, and away from the city’s concrete jungle, David felt quite vulnerable, and he experienced a twinge of anxiety. He had seen too many movies as a youngster to forget the hills had eyes. He was glad, therefore, to have found a rocky outcrop into which he could pull his RV off the road, and out of sight. This afforded him some peace of mind, at least.

  Inevitably boredom set in, and he checked his e-mail. Justin had replied, and booked a hotel for them near the ocean. All the arrangements were made, and he was planning to fly out to see his old friend for a holiday. Before then, however, David had to decide if his vagabond days were over and if it was time to take root somewhere. Money, fortunately, was no object as he had become relatively wealthy during his travels.

  He finished another beer, and then went to relieve himself in the desert, not wanting to use the toilet in the RV if it wasn’t necessary. It was very cold outside, and he shivered as he stepped into the triangle of light cast by the open door of his vehicle. He walked a respectable distance, and urinated up against a large rock, allowing himself a smile at the thought that men always felt compelled to relieve themselves against something. For some base animal reason, the ground was never good enough.

  He was putting his penis away when a faint flicker of light caught his attention. It was gone just as swiftly, and for a moment he waited to hear the engine of a car passing on the road. The desert remained silent, however, and he felt a touch of fear when he saw a light flicker again. The beam was being reflected off some rocks leading into a gully.

  He knew he shouldn’t, but like a moth drawn to a flame he found himself creeping towards the source of the illumination, and in the darkness of the desert, with no real landmarks to guide him, he misjudged the distance. The light was a lot further than he had realised, but it was growing brighter, and then he heard voices.

  They stopped him in his tracks, and he spent a few moments thinking about his next move hoping the loud thumping of his heart would not give him away. There were people in the gully and, as he composed himself, he realised curiosity was one aspect of his character he could not control. But he was not stupid enough to blunder into the scene like some absentminded hiker, and so he sought another way to try and discern the source of the light.

  It was a ten-minute climb, and the outcome was a frightening revelation. A few hundred feet below him, and about fifty feet further away, blazed a fire around which sat two bikers. Next to one of them a naked girl crouched on her hands and knees, her head near the ground, her bottom thrust up into the air. The light of the fire played across her buttocks, and revealed that the biker beside her was using her arsehole as a receptacle for his cigarette.

  A third biker was busy fucking another girl spread-eagled across the sand, her wrists and ankles attached to wooden pegs driven into the ground. The two unoccupied men were talking and drinking. David could not make out what they were saying, but during a lull in the conversation the biker next to the crouching girl pulled the cigarette from her arse, and began smoking it again. His companion then leaned back on his arms, and casually kicked her as he said something. She fell across the sand, but then quickly picked herself up and ran towards one of the tents. She disappeared inside it for a moment, and emerged holding a six-pack of beer. She handed it to the biker who had been using her anus as a cigarette holder, and he promptly pulled her down to her knees and shoved her face down into his lap.

  The other man watched the girl sucking his friend’s cock for a moment before he rose unsteadily to his feet, and made his way to the couple on the sand. He kicked the man, and his gesture made it clear he was impatiently waiting his turn. Some angry words were exchanged, but the man on his feet apparently possessed seniority, because the other biker climbed reluctantly off the girl.

  She too, was naked, and looked quite relaxed lying across the sand with her legs spread wide open. David did not doubt she belonged to one, or maybe all, of the bikers. And it was then he realised he recognised the first girl, the one beside the fire. It was Angel, the slut from Gang Bang Ranch. And when he crept nearer to confirm his suspicions, the scar cutting the seated biker’s face in half left no doubt as to his identity. It was Jake.

  For a wild moment David panicked and believed they were following him. He nearly stood up and ran back to the RV so he could put some distance between them, but he fought the desire to flee and managed to compose himself. He lay flat on his belly and rested his chin on his knuckles as he continued looking down at the scene.

  Why would they be after him? Maybe because he stole their prize when they were all sleeping, and humiliated them? But they never saw him. How would they know he did it? And yet how could he be sure no one saw him? A truck driver back at the diner might have seen him return with Minnie, and put two and two together... But how would they know he came this way? There again, and more to the point, did he care how they knew? The fact was, they were there.

  He tore his eyes away from the partying bikers, and turned over onto his back. There was not a single cloud in the star-filled sky. If only his head was as clear. He turned back in time to see Bobby suddenly stand up, and point to something just out of David’s line of sight. The biker marched straight towards it as Jake immediately pushed Angel off his lap, got up, and followed the younger man out of sight.

  David held his breath in nervous anticipation.

  A moment later they reappeared, and Bobby was carrying something that obviously excited him. He stabbed the object with a long screwdriver he pulled from his boot, and held it over the fire. David could not be absolutely sure, but he suspected the biker had found a peyote cactus. He smiled to himself. This meant he was safe for the night. If they ate the peyote before it was fully dried out, which they obviously planned to do, the mescaline would give them a very intense trip indeed. Native American shamans valued peyote for its hallucinogenic properties, and the white man was certainly not beyond appreciating its mind-bending capabilities.

  Before David sneaked back to his RV, and a good night’s sleep, he noticed that the third unknown biker was the only one who did not partake of the magical cactus.

  David did not order fried green tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café, though he had no doubt that many people did, thanks to the movie. For breakfast, he made do with ham and eggs and a glass of orange juice while reading the numerous flyers sorted into piles on the tables. Each one was a free ticket to varying shows and events in Las Vegas.

  He was idly reading a blurb when the door of the restaurant opened, and two leather-clad men entered with two scantily clad girls in tow. They looked in need of a meal, of a wash, and of the address of a tailor, not necessarily in that order. David’s heart missed a beat, and his passing interest in the delights of the Flamingo Gaming Room developed into a passion as he bowed his head intently over the flyer, his eyes reading and re-reading the same line without his brain absorbing the words.

  The bikers behaved themselves, however. They collected some food in a civilised fashion and then, as bad luck would have it, chose the table next to David’s, where the waitress caught up with them and brought them some coffee. The small gang looked drained by their psychedelic night out in the desert.

  ‘More coffee, mister?’

  It was not the waitress’s voice that attracted the bikers’ attention, it was David’s sudden, guilty voice nearly shouting, ‘Oh yes, please.’

  Bobby recognised him immediately. ‘Hey, you’re the dude from Coos Bay, I remember you.’

  David feigned ignorance while thinking fast. He realised they were not following him after all, which meant they probably had no suspicions that it was he who had spirited Minnie away as they slept.

  Yet despite his relief, he thought it wise to say as little as possible, and to get away from the Whistle Stop Café at the earliest opportunity. Which was not to come soon, he realised, as the group suddenly picked up their plates and their coff
ees, and came and joined him at his table as if he was their oldest and dearest friend.

  ‘You must remember us,’ Bobby pressed him. ‘In the roadhouse, near the Bay, you had some sexy little hiker bitch with you, and you left her with us.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember,’ he said without conviction.

  Bobby laughed. ‘Listen to that accent. It’s great, isn’t it? You were cool, man, not nervous at all about playing pool with a bunch of bikers. Well, you might like to know that lovely babe you left with us pulled the longest train ever to run down the West coast. She was at it all night.’

  ‘Not all night, surely,’ David said, chancing a bit of fun.

  ‘I’m telling you, we kept her at it all fucking night, man. When the guys weren’t riding her, Angel here was buttering her pussy.’

  David looked at the wild-haired girl, and smiled remembering her with Minnie.

  ‘We owe you one,’ Bobby added. ‘Do you like playing cards?’

  ‘We can’t, Bobby.’ Jake scowled. ‘The man wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘Who’s asking him?’ Bobby retorted.

  Even Jake suddenly looked nervous. ‘Listen, get your English friend pissed some other time, we got business to attend to here.’

  ‘Look, I told you, we owe him one,’ Bobby insisted. ‘Besides, he can handle himself. I know he can.’

  The others resigned themselves to the fact that the Englishman was invited, and Bobby asked David if he had heard of Gambelli’s.

  ‘It’s a small-time gambling joint,’ he explained, ‘two blocks from the strip, between the armoury and the Elvis wedding chapel.’

  As he made a mental note of the directions, David noticed the third biker standing outside. He was using the public phone and staring into the café. Both his leather vest and his jeans looked strangely clean, almost new.

  They entered the town in a cavalcade. Jake and Bobby rode up front with the girls, David formed the middle in his RV, and the unknown biker made up the rear. There was no turning off the road for David and trying to lose them, not unless he wanted to make enemies, and there was a lot of desert out there - plenty of places to run, but nowhere to hide.

  The gaudy neon signs and the multitude of flashing coloured lights David associated with Las Vegas were nowhere to be seen. Gambelli’s looked like some drinking hole straight out of a spaghetti western, and they even had to cross a dirt road to get to it. He was happy with the rather downbeat feel of the place; the high-tech, corporate image of the major casinos was much too clinical for his tastes.

  The group stepped inside, and again David was pleasantly surprised. The bar could very well have been a saloon in the old Wild West. Painted mirrors touting the virtues of bourbon and tobacco formed the backdrop of a long, liquor-stained bar. There were a few hand-pumps for dispensing beer, but spirits were clearly the beverages of choice for the locals. Tourists did not appear to be welcome, for there were none in evidence, as far as David could tell.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The Mexican barman, his bald scalp as polished as his antique mirrors, showed no signs of apprehension faced with three dangerous looking bikers. Behind him, David saw the baseball bat he guessed contributed to the man’s confidence. Two bullet holes in the bar also suggested the bat had other, more persuasive friends to call upon, if necessary.

  Bobby ordered bourbon for every one.

  ‘I’ll have a beer,’ David said, ‘it’s more refreshing in this heat.’

  He was the last to be served, and while the bartender waited for the head on his beer to recede, the others downed their shots.

  Then the Mexican did what David had been hoping he would do - he slammed the glass down on the bar, and slid it straight to him. David caught it, lifted it, and swallowed long and often. It was a priceless moment.

  ‘Good beer,’ he said with a broad smile. ‘So, Bobby, what brings you south?’

  ‘Fun, and business,’ the biker replied. ‘Let’s sit down.’

  A table by the window easily accommodated six people. As he grabbed a chair, David noticed a black Cadillac parked across the road, and two men sitting inside it. He was about to point them out when Jake asked him what he was doing in the United States.

  ‘Oh, you know, enjoying the sights and wondering if I should stay,’ David replied breezily.

  ‘It’s the only place to be,’ Jake stated in a tone that dared anyone to contradict him. ‘No place better on God’s green earth.’

  David thought it a strange comment for such an aggressive man to make, and raised his glass in a toast-like fashion. ‘To the land of opportunity,’ he declared. ‘If you can’t make money in America, you must be stupid.’

  ‘Or dead.’

  It was the first words David had heard the unknown biker speak, and everyone found them quite funny, except him. Nevertheless, he smiled politely even as he kept his eyes on the Cadillac parked across the street.

  Bobby called for another round of drinks, and the bartender brought them over. Then Angel pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and everyone decided to follow her example. ‘When are we going into town, Bobby?’ she asked plaintively. ‘I want some fun.’

  ‘Yeah,’ the other girl piped in. ‘I thought you said we’d be hitting the casinos.’

  ‘Soon, baby,’ Bobby assured one, or both of them with this blanket endearment.

  David noticed a certain tension had crept into his voice, and that he kept glancing at the clock behind the bar.

  ‘Hey,’ Bobby suddenly looked at David, ‘you want to come with us later when we hit the casinos?’

  ‘I never win,’ David said, by way of declining the offer.

  ‘You’ll win this time, I guarantee it.’

  ‘Hello, Bobby.’

  No one had heard the three men enter. David looked outside. The Cadillac was gone.

  ‘Hitting the bottle a little early, aren’t you, Bobby?’

  ‘Been a long drive, Dino,’ Bobby said. ‘Just wetting our throats. Wanna join us?’

  Dino looked around, and so did his two companions. ‘Let’s find another table,’ he said. He was a tall, well-dressed, rather handsome dark-haired man, like his friends.

  David felt himself grow suddenly tense. He was caught up in something - something that made him very uneasy - and he could not think of any way to extricate himself now.

  But Dino was about to give him one. ‘Rico,’ he called to the bartender, ‘any rooms free so we can get a card game going?’

  Rico nodded, and pointed to a side door.

  ‘After you, gentlemen,’ Dino said. His companions had spoken not a word, until one of them abruptly focused on David.

  ‘Who’s he?’ the man asked sharply.

  ‘Just a friend, we owed a drink,’ Bobby replied. ‘You should have seen the bitch he - ’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Dino demanded between clenched teeth. ‘Do you even know who the fuck he is?’

  ‘I told you,’ Bobby stayed cool, ‘he’s just some English guy on holiday who dropped a pretty little hiker off for us a few days ago.’ He turned to David. ‘Say something, man.’

  David’s throat seemed to dry up, but he finally managed to mutter, ‘Hello, pleasure to meet you all.’

  ‘He comes in with us,’ Dino said firmly.

  ‘Why?’ Jake demanded.

  The atmosphere was becoming decidedly charged.

  ‘He’s coming with us,’ Dino repeated.

  David ended up following everyone to the back room. Unlike the rest of the bar, the room was modern, with boring white plastered walls and nothing in the way of decor. It was dominated by a large round table surrounded by chairs, and the only natural light had to sneak in through two high and very narrow windows.

  Everyone sat down except David, the girls, and the mysterious biker. The l
atter remained by the door, and David made himself comfortable against the wall trying to suppress a sense of foreboding.

  Bobby produced a bottle of bourbon, and one of the men in suits spread a number of shot glasses across the table. The seated men took a drink, and then Bobby handed one to David.

  ‘How much?’ Dino asked, setting his briefcase on the table.

  Bobby smiled, and looked at Jake before replying, ‘Two hundred.’

  It was Dino’s turn to smile. ‘That’s a lot of money. Business must be good.’

  ‘That depends on what your man’s giving.’

  Dino opened his case, and David noticed a handgun lying across some gold casino checks, but all Dino pulled out was a calculator. He pressed a few keys. ‘He says seventy cents to the dollar.’

  ‘You don’t need a fucking adding machine for that, man,’ Bobby snapped, ‘it’s a hundred and forty grand, and that’s shit. We can get more across the border.’

  Dino’s smile deepened dangerously. ‘I’m just telling you what the boss said.’

  ‘We want eighty cents,’ Jake practically spit the words out. ‘So you can tell the man, no fucking deal.’

  David downed his drink, and held his breath.

  Dino held his hand up as his colleagues watched him carefully. ‘I’ve got some influence with the man.’ He spoke with quiet confidence. ‘I think I can vouch for him on this matter and offer you seventy-five cents. I’ll smooth it out with him later.’

  ‘Fuck him,’ Jake shouted. ‘I say we go to the Mexicans.’

  Bobby looked at the nameless biker. ‘What do you say?’

  David was very relieved to hear the man reply, no matter how curt his response. ‘Take it. We’ve got a deal here. It’ll waste time setting up another meeting. I say we take seventy-five. If the Mexicans offer us less, then what do we do, come crawling back here for fifty?’

  Bobby nodded. ‘The man always stands by his word. We’ll take seventy-five.’