The Savage Little Flea

by Steve Shadow

  “Jackie my boy, how are things going? Seems you been doing some nice business there. Big crowds, huh?”

  “Jesus Mr. Jules. What, you hiring counters now? Don’t I get a minutes rest from you? What do you want now? Wasn’t it enough to send those two goons around? The next time one of your fat goombah’s hits me I’m going to shoot him. I’m doing everything I can to keep up my part of this extortion racket so how about you leave me alone for awhile? You squeeze me anymore and I’m closing the place up and leaving town.”

  I could hear him lighting up one of his stinky cigars. “Jackie, we got to keep things on an even keel. You make money, I make money. I think in light of your new found success that maybe it’s time to up the contributions to the union retirement fund.”

  “You mean your retirement fund. What’s the point of doing this if I can’t get ahead? Why do you keep squeezing me? You must have bigger fish that you’re sucking dry. I’m already shelling out to your guy. Although in all fairness to Bucky, he has turned out to be a good worker.”

  “See Jackie, I’m fair. I knew Bucky was no dead beat. But business is business. You got to start passing on those contributions again. I could always make you go all union and then the Mexicans would be gone. So let’s not go through this tired routine again. Contributions start again next week. Seeing as Bucky is doing such a good job maybe he is in line for a raise. We all want to keep our employees happy, don’t we?”

  He started chuckling while I started fuming.

  “Yes, Mr. Jules, anything else Mr. Jules? Want me to come over and wash your car? Shine your shoes?”

  “Just do as you’re told.” He hung up the phone.

  Jesus Christ, was there no end to this crap. If only the wrestling bouts could be a success on a regular basis then I could dump the theater and be rid of the union and the mob. At least the cops just took the money and left me alone.

  A few nights later I approached Bucky and asked if he could talk to Jules.

  “Bucky, you see what goes on here. Even with the increase in business I still ain’t making much. After all the expenses I’m only pulling out enough to cover my rent and food. I keep trying to tell Mr. Jules that if we have one bad month then I’m through.”

  He sat in his busted down easy chair and shrugged.

  “It don’t work that way Jack. I don’t tell him nothing. I just do as I’m told. I got to kick back to him myself. That cash you give me every week? 20% goes back to the union in the form of dues; even though I ain’t in the union. So you see I’m in the same boat as you. Except for the Army I ain’t never worked a legit job so I got no social security or pension or nothing. This is it and I ain’t screwing it up. Sorry Jack.”

  He pushed himself out of the chair and shambled back to the projection booth. I let out a big sigh and hung my head. I recalled the day I signed the lease on the Roxy. I was thrilled and excited. I finally had my own movie theater. All I could see was the pleasure of screening my film favorites for the grateful masses of film lovers who would flock to the Roxy in gratitude; so much for that pie-in-the-sky dream. I had to just suck it up and hope that Chuey and his luchadores would save me. I shambled back downstairs to get the theater ready for shutdown.

  It had been a fairly slow Thursday night. No one showed up for the last screening so I let everyone go home early. I went to the front of the theater to lock the doors before going back to my office. Just as I got to the front of the lobby the door opened and in walked another another nightmare.

  “Hey man, how ju doing? Ju remember me, no?”

  I jumped back into the lobby. “Yes, I remember you. Let me lock the door and we can go to my office.”

  “Just a minute, hokay man.” He held out his hand while sporting a big grin.

  “My name is Jose “Malo” Camacho. Ju call me Malo. Ju OK for a paleface. Ju keep your mouth shut and don’t rat out Malo. We amigos now, hey?”

  I looked at him closely. He stood there, legs apart, in all his greasy splendor. He had on wide-cut black pants and a shiny skin-tight black shirt open half way down his chest. He had a lot of silver chains around his neck. He also sported a long grey coat that looked like a duster I had last seen in a John Wayne western. I shook his hand. I locked the door behind me and led him back towards my office. This was not what I needed tonight.

  I turned to him and said, “Jack Sennett’s my name. I guess you want your pistola?”

  “Sure man. But now we is friends. I owe ju big time. Malo is a man of honor and ju stand up for him. I am proud for you. What ju want. You got wife, girlfriend? How ‘bout a fur coat, nice purses, dresses? No woman? Hokay, ju let me know. Malo get anything you need. Here is a little present for ju. Is a tough place here in the night. Maybe this help.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and brought a set of brass knuckles and a long switch blade knife that he demonstrated for me. He twisted and turned and swept the blade in front of me. He was laughing all the time. My heart was racing a mile a minute.

  “Ju leave after work, ju put this on one hand and keep the blade in the other. Ju got no problems. Or maybe ju want I get ju a gun? That what ju want?”

  I stared at him as sweat began to pop out on my forehead and I shook my head side to side. He kept smiling and lightly punching me on the arm. I held his offerings in my hand.

  “Thank you Malo. I was glad to help you out. I got no love for the cops either. I just want to run this theater and I don’t want any trouble. You come see a movie anytime and we’ll be cool.”

  I went back to my small office under the staircase and retrieved his gun.

  “Ju do good Jack. Ju need anything ju see Malo. Ju got trouble from anyone ju tell me. I always around or ju come to the bodega on Clarendon. Ju know that place? El Rinconcito?”

  I nodded my head. “Yeah, sure Malo, I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  He took the pistol out of the bag and racked the slide. He checked to see that all the ammo was accounted for. He gave me back the bag and stuffed the gun and magazines in his coat pocket. He asked for a coke and I gave him the largest size we had. He thanked me while feinting a punch to my jaw. I pulled back and we both started laughing. I don’t know what he was laughing at; I was laughing with relief.

  I let him out after promising once again to look for him if I needed anything. I waved goodbye and locked up all the doors. He was a very scary person and I was glad I kept my mouth shut about the gun.

  I drove home wondering once again how I got in the middle of all this criminal activity. From a simple teen-age dream of owning a movie theater I was now dealing with mobsters, corruption, crooked unions and for the icing on the cake, a Puerto Rican gang leader. I got a queasy feeling in my gut that all this was not going to end well for me. Once again I got the panicky urge to just pack a bag and get out of town. Too much paranoia for one man, I said out loud to myself. I just had to hang on and hope for the best. Hell, what else could jump up and bite me?

  15

  As I put the key into the lock of my front door I heard the phone ringing. In a conditioned response I threw open the door and ran to the phone. Even as I did this I wondered what the rush was. If it was truly important then whoever it was would call back. I felt like Pavlov’s dog every time I did this.

  “Hello,” I gasped, out of breath.

  “Hi Jackie, you sound like you just ran a four minute mile.”

  It was Shelly. I fell into a chair and hoped this was not another problem from the demented Bickerson’s that I had to deal with.

  “Oh, hi Shelly, I’m just a little out of breath from rushing in to answer the phone. How are you and Danny making out?”

  “Oh he’s making out fine. All he does is train with Chuey and help Ron around the building. Your pal Ron is quite the runner. He and Danny go out every morning to jog around the neighborhood. But I’m bored stiff. There are only so many matinees to go to and only so much window shopping I can do. Why don’t you be a pal and take a girl out on the town? We
had fun, didn’t we? Come on Jackie, I know how to make you happy.”

  “I thought you were looking for a job. No luck yet?”

  “I don’t want no half-assed job; I’m sick of working. The fights are coming up and then we’ll have some cash. Please Jackie, let’s go out, huh? Danny ain’t interested; he’d rather hang out with the guys.”

  Her whiney voice was getting me irritated. Shit, I wished she would get a job. The last thing I needed was her expecting me to

  keep her amused. I knew Danny didn’t care what she did but once around the block with her was enough.

  “I don’t think so Shelly. I got tons to do with the Roxy and getting the matches set up. By midnight, when the theater closes, I’m beat. I just want to come home and nod out. Try and find some work or get a girlfriend to pal around with.”

  “Girls ain’t got what I need. Don’t be such a grump. You’re a young guy; be a sport and show a girl some fun.”

  Now I was getting pissed off. I needed to have a little talk with Danny. Let him deal with her. These two were becoming a real pain in the ass.

  “Look Shelly, I am not taking you out. Find some fun somewhere else.”

  “Oh, come on Jackie. How about if I grab a cab and come over and tuck you in?”

  “Jesus Shelly, knock it off. I’m tired. How about you try and find a boyfriend your own age and leave me alone.”

  “Screw you, you little creep.”

  She slammed the phone down. Christ, why did I have to put up with this? I knew I never should have gotten involved with her. I knew it then and I knew it now. Oh the strange pathways my dick has led me down.

  I switched on the stereo and put on some Chet Baker. I was about to pour some wine when the phone rang again. I had second thoughts about answering it but did anyway.

  “Hello.”

  “Jack,” Chuey said. “I have the new luchadores all ready. Is those young guys from Vera Cruz. Mi primo, my cousin, he get them for me. He say they is big men and put on good show. They come in 2 days. They on Mexicana, come to the aeropuerto at 10 in the morning. I bring names for you tonight. You get them, OK?”

  “Sure Chuey. Is everything ready for the matches next week? Do you have the posters ready?”

  “Si si, all is good. We make news for the radio. And we have picture in the Spanish paper. I tell them all about the fights on the Mexican TV.”

  “Great Chuey. I’ll see you tonight at the Roxy. Buenos noches.”

  At least something was going right. I was looking forward to the matches which were scheduled for next Saturday night. I hoped we would pull in a larger gate this time. I sat and sipped wine listening to Chet croon all about his foolish heart. I fell asleep in the chair.

  16

  Everything was running smoothly at the Roxy. Our weeknight take was small compared to the weekends but it was respectable. Chuey and Danny had done another interview on a Spanish radio station. The Spanish language newspaper had published an article complete with pictures touting the upcoming bouts. I had picked up the four luchadores at the airport. Chuey was correct about their size; they were huge guys. They did not seem as outgoing as the last bunch. I did not hear much joking from them. Danny told me they were all about the show and getting their parts down pat. This was OK with me. Chuy’s wife was fed up with having a full house all the time so I got two rooms at Ron’s place for them. Danny, being able to speak to them, made a good guide and he made sure they all did proper roadwork. My pal Ron was thrilled to have them in his apartment hotel. He told me that they were having fun teaching him wrestling moves. I was glad everyone was having such a good time. I was only interested in having the matches come off without any trouble and raking in a healthy gate.

  On Saturday I left Bucky in charge of the theater and had Ernesto and Hector run the projection booth. I planned on coming back that night to close down the theater and count the receipts.

  When I got to the Coliseum on the night of the fights I was greeted by my favorite trio in blue.

  “Jackie my boy; how’s it hanging?”

  “Well if it isn’t Mr. Serve and Protect himself. And how are you Sgt. Dulovski?”

  “Just fine Jack. We are at your service; for the usual fee of course.”

  “You got it Sarge.” I handed him the cash. “We’re expecting a good crowd tonight so have the troops keep an eye out for trouble. Play nice though; these are paying customers. As long as they aren’t wrecking the place or stabbing each other let ‘em have fun.”

  “Sure Jackie. Hell, even these wetbacks deserve a little joy in their stupid screwed up lives.”

  I smiled. “That’s what I love about you Dulovski, you’re such a warm and loving human being. No wonder everyone loves the cops.”

  He slapped me on the back.

  “You are regular fountain of humor, son. Be glad we ain’t jacking you up for more shekels. OK boys, each of you take an exit and keep an eye open for weapons and trouble-makers. I’m sticking with joy-boy here. Me and him are like brothers now. Ain’t that right Jackie?”

  I shook his hand off my shoulder and walked away. The crowd was starting to pile in and it looked like all of Chuey’s advertising was paying off. By the start of the matches the place was full. The boys in the ticket booth had bags full of cash stuffed all around their feet. Dulovski and I were making regular trips to the trunk of his cruiser to stash the money.

  I was so busy I did not even have a chance to peek in on the matches but I could tell from the noise level that the crowd was having a great time.

  After we settled up with the state board I had Danny and Chuey take the boys out for some food and drink. I gave Chuey enough cash to pay the wrestlers and to pay for all the help at the arena and for the advertising and art work. I then slipped Dulovski another 20 to follow me back to the Roxy and to keep watch until I put the small amount that was left in the office safe. The evening had gone well at the theater and the crowd was fairly sizeable.

  By 12:30 everyone had left. I was alone in my office. I had finally totaled the nights take and stashed everything in the office safe. I was getting ready to leave when I heard a loud banging on the glass doors at the front of the lobby. I checked that everything was in the safe, locked it and left my office. As I approached the front doors I was confronted by the sight of the two goons who had jacked me up at my apartment.

  “What do you two want? We’re closed. If Mr. Jules needs something tell him to call me.”

  “Just open the door, asshole.”

  “I am not opening the door. Beat it.”

  “Look, you mook, open the door or we’ll break it down. You want I should get the jack out of the car and bust all your glass for you?”

  “What do you guys want? What the hell did I do now?”

  “Quit flappin’ your gums and open the fuckin’ door.”

  “OK, just a minute.” I went back to the office and got the keys. I also slipped the knuckle-duster Malo had given me on my hand and slipped the blade into my back pocket. I went back up front and knelt down to unlock the door which was secured at its base. As soon as it was unlocked they pushed it open and knocked me on my rear.

  I crawled away and got up. I dusted the back of my pants off.

  “What the hell is this all about?”

  The ugly one, Bazoops I think he called himself, got up in my face.

  “We hear you been goin’ behind our back and settin’ up another business. A little thing with the beaners. You think we don’t know what’s goin’ on? You think we’re stupid?”

  I stepped back from him. How the hell did they find out about the fights? I had made sure to keep my name out of everything.

  “Yeah, I think you’re a pair of morons. What I do outside of this place is none of Jules business. Does he own all the sporting

  venues in the city? I don’t think so. So go back and tell him he don’t own me. Now get out of my theater or I’ll call the cops.”

  Before either one of them could react I turned
and ran back up the lobby hoping I could get to my office and lock the door. I had Dulovski’s phone number in my desk. It was then that I realized it was probably Dulovski who had told Jules about the wrestling matches. He was probably on the pad from them also.

  I had just made it to the door when I felt a huge paw grab my shirt and yank me back. The other creep, Jamook, had hold of me and was lifting me off the ground. I swung around in his grasp and with all my might I connected with his face. The heavy brass knuckles on my hand crushed the cartilage in his nose and sent a spray of blood all over me. He let go of my shirt and started screaming.

  “You fuck, you broke my nose. I’ll kill you.”

  He let go of me and bent over trying to stem the blood flow. Bazoops was coming at me. I reached into my pocket and took out the switch-blade and pressed the button on its side. The blade flashed out. He stopped in his tracks and grinned.

  “Oh, tough guy, huh? What you think you’re going to do with that thing? Now you’re really in for it, ya’ little creep.”

  I was inching back towards the office. I was trying to watch them both. Bazoop’s stopped moving but kept grinning. Just as I got to the office door he reached in his jacket and came out with a huge automatic.

  “Still wanna’ play Zorro with the spic pig sticker? Be my guest.”

  My eyes were glued on the gun when I heard someone say, “Hey cabron, who ju calling a spic? Ju calling me a spic? Ju calling my mens a spic? I think maybe ju don’ wan’ to be saying those kind of things. Is not good for jour health, I think.”

  Both goons turned to see Malo and three of his gang standing side by side in the lobby. My confrontation with the two muscle boys had been so intense none of us had heard Malo enter the theater. Jamook was still bent over holding his nose. A hush enveloped the lobby. We all stood rooted in place. I could only hear my labored breathing while I tried to keep my knife hand steady. Finally Bazoops spoke up.