by Steve Shadow
“I don’t know where you greaser clowns came from but this ain’t none of your business. The place is closed so get the hell out.”
While his attention was on Malo and his gang I slipped around him, ran down the lobby and got behind Malo.
“These are friends of mine,” I said. “Maybe you want to think about putting that cannon down and getting your pal there some help. Sorry I had to bust his nose but that’s the breaks, so to speak. Go back and tell Jules to stop bothering me. I’m honoring our deal.”
“Maybe what you oughta’ do is think about telling your little spic pals to get out of here before I splatter them all over your little shit-hole lobby.”
I didn’t know what to do. I was hoping somebody driving by would notice this confrontation and call the cops. Unfortunately at this time of night there was almost no traffic on the street. The only ones out were the dealers and the hookers and they were not looking out for anything other than their own business deals.
Bazoops kept the gun pointed at us. “OK, that’s it, its time for you assholes to get out before I have to put a bullet in youse.”
Malo held up both hands as he walked forward. “We jus’ come for some soda and candy. Ju know, we hungry. We get some stuff and we go. We no care about the business with Jackie. We no such good friends for to get shot at.” He turned to look at me. “Is OK for us to get soda Jack, OK?”
As he got closer to Bazoops his arm suddenly flashed forward. Something shiny flew through the air. Before the goon could pull the trigger of his hand cannon a thin piece of steel was embedded in his neck. He dropped the gun and fell to his knees clutching at his throat. Malo got closer and kicked him viciously in the head.
“Ahora muerete, cabron” Malo yelled.
Blood was pumping out of him like an oil gusher. As much as he tried to stem the flow it was bursting out from between his fingers. His partner started fumbling in his coat when one of Malo’s men came running up the slanted lobby floor and stabbed him in the side. In a flash all of them were around his crumpled body. They were viciously stomping him to death.
“Hey Malo,” I shouted. “That’s enough. Stop it; you’re going to kill him.”
He whistled and his crew backed off. Jamook was curled in a ball. He was moaning softly. What the hell was I going to do now. I rushed into the office and doused the lobby lights. The panic lights came on creating a shadowy world like the noir films I loved to show. This was no movie, however. We all stood there in the dim silence watching one man bleed to death and another one moan in pain.
“Malo, are you guys crazy?” I said, snapping out of my shock at the grisly scene in front of me. “You just murdered this guy and the other one is not far behind.”
Malo turned to me. “Hey, they was going to shoot me. Who is these guys? Ju got trouble why ju don’t call Malo. I tell you I help you.”
With my voice rising in panic I began yelling at Malo. “Christ man, I didn’t know they were coming. They work for the union boss for all the theaters. Tu comprende? They jack me up for cash all the time. You know how you got to pay off everyone in this city. I’m sure you guys got to pay someone too. Oh man, what am I going to do now?”
Malo looked at me and in a calm voice said, “Ay Jack, es verdad. But I got no choices here. He don’t point no gun at Malo. Nobody point guns at Malo. Don’t worry, we get rid of these patos. Ju show me a sonrisa now, a smile. Is your lucky day, huh? Malo save you, no jodas, we amigos. I get our camion, we take these chochas away. Ju get the blood off the floor and we is OK.”
He looked down at my waist. I followed his gaze to my shaking hands. I still had the bloody metal brass knuckles on one hand and the blade in the other. He laughed out loud and so did his gang. He turned to them.
“Ju see, I give Jackie those presents and I say they will help him.”
He turned back to me and gave me a hug as I stood quaking in my shoes. “Ju see, I no lie. Ju help me and I help ju. Is the way of men of honor. I tell ju true, ju have problemos, I am here. Estamos amigos para siempre, we always amigos.”
I was shocked and I was frightened. But in spite of that I felt a grateful jolt of warmth at what Malo had just said. Without
thinking I embraced him back and planted a kiss on both his cheeks.
“Thank you, hermano. You really are malo.”
He laughed again and turned to his gang. When he spoke to them, barking out orders in his rapid Puerto Rican dialect, I could barely catch a word.
The rest of the night went by in a blur. They put plastic under the bodies and dragged them into the theater and down the aisle where they placed them by a back fire door. We waited until one of his crew pulled a truck up to the emergency exit leading out to the alley. By the dim light on the theaters back wall they quickly loaded the bodies into the bed of the truck and threw a tarp over them. What they did with them I did not want to know. I thanked God that the cops had not made their run yet. After they left I tried to ignore my shaking arms and legs and got to work. I spent hours cleaning up the blood. It was hard to tell if I got it all in the dim light available to me. I kept expecting the cops to show up. I knew I couldn’t buy my way out of this one.
By 4 am I was filthy, sweaty and still covered in blood. It had hardened and the crust kept falling off my shirt and onto the floor. I thought I was going to be sick but I managed to keep everything down as I scrubbed away like a madman. I was worn out and needed to get some sleep. The lobby, at least as far as I could tell, looked as clean as it was before the evening’s festivities. I threw all the cleaning gear I had used into a trash bag, locked up the theater and got in my car. A light drizzle had begun to fall and all the odors of the city filled my head. The oil on the streets shimmered under the glare of the streetlights. I had trouble getting the key in the ignition. My hands were again shaking wildly. Christ, what was I going to do? When Jules didn’t hear back from his two goons he would surely send someone else. I couldn’t keep Malo around as my personal body guard. I couldn’t call the cops. How would I explain what had happened or how it happened or even why it happened? I was jammed up. I had no idea where to turn. I’m glad I never called that damn Dulovski. If he got wind of this mess I would probably be paying him off for the rest of my life. Although at this rate the value and length of my life did not seem like anything I would want to bet on. I’m sure the Vegas line was not in my favor.
I drove slowly to the lakefront. The rain had picked up in intensity. I parked in a deserted picnic area. I made sure that no one was around. I climbed the rocks that overlooked the churning lake. I shimmied down the slippery stones to the waters edge. The lake was throwing up waves that combined with the rain to soak me to the bone. I threw the bloody brass knuckles and the knife into the dark water. I filled the bag that held the cleaning materials with stones and also threw that into the lake. I stood on the breakfront and let the wind and rain blow over me. I took in countless deep breaths and wondered if I would ever escape this mess. I turned around and stared at the lights of the city twinkling through the downpour in front of me. Despite the corruption and the dirty politics I loved Chicago. It was the only home I had ever known and now I wondered if I could stay here. The urge to flee was strong. I’m not sure if it was the rain or tears that began running down my face. As tough as I thought I was, this was way out of my league. Watching murder and killing in my favorite noir classics was one thing but seeing it happen in front of your eyes was a whole other thing. I had to get somewhere and think. I knew I did not have a lot of time before they came for me. I was soaked, chilled and almost paralyzed with fear. I ran to my car, started it and turned on the heater.
On the way back to my apartment I almost hit a drunk staggering across the street. I couldn’t think straight. I was still shaking and had trouble controlling the car. I was suddenly afraid to go to my place. Who knew what was waiting for me there? I pulled into a small hot-sheet motel on Lincoln Avenue. I paid cash and gave the sleazy desk clerk a phony name. He gave me a r
oom on the second floor. I locked myself in with my stash and a six-pack I had picked up. I spent the rest of the night watching the pink neon “vacancy” sign flash off and on. I felt like Bogie or Dick Powell in some old crime film. The irony of the scene was of no comfort. I smoked joints and drank until, as the sun began to rise, I passed out.
17
I awoke the next morning in a tangle of sweaty sheets and the sunlight blasting my crusted eyes and pounding head. The sun filtered through the dirty gauze that passed as a curtain. Dust motes shimmered in the air. I could hear a garbage truck outside emptying a dumpster. I saw my dead and broken body being flung into the garbage trucks crusher. My head ached from all the beer and pot. I could smell myself; it was almost worse than the smell of the room. My life was taking on all together too many aspects of my favorite hard-boiled B-movies. Everything happening had a strange deja-vu quality but that was of no comfort. I padded across the stained carpet and into the funky excuse for a bathroom. At least the water in the shower was hot and I stood under it until I began to pucker. My mind was racing without a focal point. I dried myself off with the threadbare towels and got dressed in my dirty clothes. I had to tear up my shirt. It was thick with blood.
I made some coffee in the room. I forced the greasy swill down while trying to ignore the foul odors of dried sex and desperate nights that were embedded in the walls and carpet. I wondered what I should do next. I dreaded returning to the theater. I was afraid of what might be waiting for me there. I decided it was best to gather up Danny and head over to Chueys. The boys from Mexico had stayed at Chuey’s for a big chow-down after the bouts. Maybe they would have some ideas. I had to talk to someone and Chuey was the only one I trusted.
I drove in a daze to Ron’s apartment-hotel on the near North side. On the way there I pulled into an alley and threw my shredded blood stained shirt in a dumpster. When I pulled up in front of Ron’s building I spotted him and Danny leaving the building. I jumped out of the car.
“Hey, hold up. I got to talk to you guys.”
“Jesus,” Ron said. “You look like shit. Why don’t you have a shirt on? What’s going on?”
“Yeah, good morning to you to. Never mind how I look. I got to go over to Chueys and I need to take Danny with me.”
“What’s up Jack?” asked Danny. “We was going out for our morning run.”
“Just get in the car Danny, I’ll explain later. Sorry to book, Ron; I’ll explain it all later.”
I pulled away from the curb and headed to Chuey’s apartment. I felt bad about ignoring Ron but it was just as well that he remained in the dark about what was going on. I didn’t want to bring my troubles down on the heads of my few friends. Danny was chattering away about how he was in much better shape and ready for the matches. He didn’t even notice my appearance and just kept babbling about himself. I wasn’t paying attention and almost missed his news about Shelly.
“What? What about her, what’s the trouble now?”
“Aw, you know. Same old crap. I ain’t got time for her, I got to train, blah, blah, blah. She still don’t get it: All she wants to do is have a good time. She don’t want to work. She’s been spending a lot of time at Chuey’s. I think she’s banging one of the guys from Mexico. I usually don’t care but that kind of crap always causes problems. We all got to work together.”
I shook my head. Shelly was going to drive us both crazy.
“Look Danny, I got bigger problems now than who Shelly is spreading her legs for. I’ll fill you in at Chuey’s.”
“Yeah, OK, don’t get all bent out of shape; I’ll fix things up with her.”
He turned and stared out the window. We drove on in silence.
“It’ll be good to see how the little guy feels after last night.” Danny finally said. “He told me he was going to work with the boys on new routines before they go back to Mexico. Me, I’m not too sure about these guys. They ain’t none too friendly. These younger wrestlers ain’t like us in the old days. We was in it for the fun. The money wasn’t so good back then. Now these kids all think they’re “The Rock” and are going to be rich and in the movies. Well, I guess everyone got to learn the hard way.”
I found a place to park near Chuey’s building and we walked up the stairs to his place. I knocked on the door. We waited for
a few seconds. The door opened and Rosa, Chuey’s wife, stood there with tears running down her face.
“Ay Danny,” she moaned. “Tenemos problemas muy grande.” She turned to me. “Buenos Dias Jack. Why you no have shirt?” She waved us inside.
“Whats the matter Rosa?” I asked, ignoring her question. “What’s going on?”
She put her hand to her mouth, started crying and pointed to a back bedroom. Danny and I rushed down the hallway. In the darkened room we could make out Chuey on his back in bed. His eyes were blackened, his face swollen and his right arm was in a homemade sling held against his chest. His lips were torn and he was moaning in pain with each breath.
“Jesus Chuey,” I said. “What happened to you?”
“No te puede oir. I no hear you so good. Ay, me duele la espalda, my back, it hurts bad.”
I turned to Danny. Seeing Chuey like this made me forget about my own problems. “What is this? What’s going on?”
“Hell, I don’t know. Maybe we should call a doctor. Chuey looks all busted up.”
I leaned out the bedroom door and called for Rosa. “Danny ask Rosa what’s going on here.”
Rosa came down the hallway and her and Danny began chattering away in Spanish. She started crying again and walked out.
Danny stood still for a moment with a stunned look on his face.
“Jesus Jack, we do got problems. You know Luis, the big guy, calls himself El Diablo? Well it seems he wanted Chuey to help him move a lot of dope that he had brought up from Mexico. I didn’t know he had any of that stuff. He and the other guys had a connection here that they were supposed to meet and not only give the dope to but they were also going to set up a regular thing. Chuey refused to go along and they got into it and the shit heads beat the crap out of him. Not only that but Luis is the guy Shelly’s been banging and now she’s gone too. Rosa don’t know if she went willingly or if Luis took her. Rosa wasn’t home when this happened. She came home last night and found Chuey unconscious on the floor. She called a local witch doctor, some village guy, and he fixed Chuey up but he probably don’t know what he was doing. I think we should call an ambulance and get him to a hospital; he needs x-rays and to see a real doctor.”
I could not believe this was happening. Trouble was snowballing and I was in the middle of a super shit-storm. I got on the phone and called an ambulance. While we waited I told Danny what had happened last night. He sat and listened with his mouth open.
“Christ Jack, I did not sign on for this. What the hell are you going to do? Maybe you should dump everything and get out of the country. I wish I had got that damn job at Korvettes and never come down here. I can’t believe Shelly would take off like that.”
I shook my head. “Well Danny, as you can see I got bigger problems. I don’t mean to burst your bubble but I don’t think a bunch of dope dealing young Mexican wrestlers would be interested in kidnapping an over the hill bottle blonde. Shelly is probably just out for the cheap thrills.”
Danny said nothing. I heard a siren approaching. We went outside and led the paramedics to Chuey. They loaded him onto a gurney and put him in the back of the ambulance. I had Rosa climb in with him. We followed them to Cook County hospital and got Chuey admitted. After waiting for an hour we finally got to see an ER doctor.
18
Danny and I rose to greet the approaching doctor. He was smiling which I took as a good sign.
“Are you gentlemen waiting on Mr. Morales?” he said. We nodded. “Well,” he said. “Mr. Morales is going to be fine. We found no broken bones or cracked ribs. He does have a slight concussion and various contusions. His back and ribs will be sore for awhile. His
arm was twisted badly but should also be fine. We are not going to keep him here. I’ll prescribe some pain killers. He needs rest, lots of liquids and you should monitor him closely. If headaches, blurry vision or dizziness persist then bring him back. I think he will be good as new in a week or so.”
Rosa came rushing up to us. She had gone to the restroom. While Danny translated for Rosa, I thanked the doctor. We waited for another 30 minutes until they got Chuey dressed and brought him out into the corridor. An orderly had put Chuey in a wheel chair and he rolled him out to my waiting car. Poor Chuey hung his head in shame. I tried to assure him that it wasn’t his fault.
“Si, si Jack; Is my fault. I listen to my cousin in Mexico. He tell lie to me. He is no stupid; he know these men is bad. I did not tell Rosa but they take all my money.”
He looked up at Danny. “Mi amigo, I tell you Shelly is no good for you. She and Luis been doing bad things. He no take her, she want to go. I think they back in Mexico now. Aye, lo siento Jack. I am sorry for this trouble.”
I patted his arm. “Don’t worry Chuey. It ain’t your fault and I got other much worse problems. Let’s get you home and get you well. Meantime we can try and figure out what to do.”
It was a long quiet drive back to Chuey’s place. Rosa sat with him in the back seat whispering endearments into his ear. We got him undressed and into bed after giving him his pills. I sat in his living room with Danny while we tried to plan out our next move. I didn’t know where to start. Danny was staring off into space. Despite his constant fighting with Shelly and her constant infidelity, I think he depended on her a lot. The fact that she would take off and leave him was a shock he was just now having to come to grips with. He held his head in his hands. Rosa came out of the kitchen with some bean tortillas and Cokes. I was starving and figured I might as well fill my stomach before the next round of disasters came flying by.
