The Rooster Club

by N. M. Catalano

  “Its fine, Michael. I’m not some innocent little girl, like Natalie. I’ve been through some pretty scary shit, and came out the other side. And I’ve been at a helluva lot of drug deals,” she told him.

  The mention of Natalie’s name was like a punch to Michael’s stomach, throwing him on his ass and knocking the wind right out of him. For him, Natalie was far from being a little girl. She still had her innocence, which was one of the beautiful things about her, but she was every bit an amazing and very sensual woman. He winced at the physical pain he felt, remembering their last time together, and how he’d fucked everything up. But he couldn’t have gone back to her that night, not after what he’d been through and the possible danger that had loomed above him. If he’d gone, he would have fucked it up, not going fucked it up. Either way, it was fucked.

  “How is she?” he couldn’t stop the question before it slipped out.

  “She’s better, good.” The reference she’d made to Natalie being better told Michael she knew what happened, at least she knew something bad had gone down that night in the city. Paul might have told Sylvia about the DEA guys, and maybe she put the rest together herself. “She’s getting ready for Formal in a couple of weeks. The guy from the city is coming up and taking her,” Sylvia answered him, shrugging her shoulders.

  Michael wasn’t sure if it was a dig, or to ease his mind. Whatever way, he felt like shit with the news.

  And he was pissed.

  Mr. Playboy was coming up. He would be spending the night. With Natalie. His Natalie.

  ‘I’ll deal with that when I get back,’ he swore to himself.

  He had to focus on the deal, nothing could distract him. If there was even one misconception, all of them would suffer. And possibly for the rest of their lives.

  “So this is what’s going to happen…,” Michael began explaining his plan.

  Michael, Vinnie, Paul and Sylvia walked into the brothel at precisely 9:00 p.m.. They made their way to the bar and ordered a bottle of champagne. Sylvia’s Spanish was the best of them all, having recently spent so much time in Puerto Rico with her ex, but the barrier of the different dialects was still a slight hindrance. The bartender delivered a cheap bottle of Corbel with four wine glasses covered in water stains.

  “No hay mejor que este?” Sylvia said, asking if he had any better.

  “No señora, este es el único,” he replied, then walked away.

  Sylvia turned to them, “This is all they have.”

  “This sucks,” Paul complained.

  “This is fine,” Michael quipped, not wanting to start trouble now.

  Michael popped the cork and filled all their glasses. He lifted his glass and they joined him.

  “Here’s to the future,” he said simply, smiling, as an image of Natalie’s face flashed in his mind.

  The glass hesitated as he was lifting it to his lips and his heart jumped. He swallowed the contents of it in one gulp, then placed the glass on the bar and looked casually around the room.

  That’s when Michael noticed them.

  There was an armed man standing at the front exit. He was dressed in fairly expensive civilian clothing. Michael thought the man apparently wasn’t an official, because they couldn’t afford to dress like that. The firepower he held could take out the whole room in one sweep.

  Michael turned his body to look behind him, reclining against the bar at his back as he did. Another one was at the entrance to the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. Making another ninety degree turn to align his side with the bar, he spotted another at the back door.

  They weren’t there the other night, Michael was sure of it.

  Sweat gathered on his forehead and under his armpits, his heart began to race, and a moment later he felt the telltale drip down his back.

  ‘Fuck!’ he thought as fear began to creep into him.

  Paul and Sylvia were in their own world acting like newlyweds, but Vinnie was taking in the sights of the room while he sipped his champagne.

  His eyes locked with Michael’s. He’d seen them as well.

  “It’s cool,” Michael murmured as he pasted on a fake smile.

  The crowd was again dominated with military men from all over the world, but mostly American, as the different accents floated through the air.

  Michael glanced towards the bartender and saw him lift his chin in Michael’s direction, then nod, as he looked towards one of the guards. He was pointing Michael out.

  “Did I tell you guys what happened to Paulsky the last time we were here?”

  Michael needed to make everyone aware of what he was seeing, but he couldn’t make it obvious, he had to disguise it somehow.

  “What did he do now?” Sylvia asked as she rolled her eyes.

  Michael leaned forward, making them all come in a little closer so he could speak quietly.

  “Don’t look now. There are armed guards at every entrance. They weren’t here the last time, it’s probably because of the deal. I’m sure they won’t do anything if we don’t, so just stay cool and casual, and don’t let it phase you. Oh, and the last time we were here, Paulsky kissed a transvestite on his asshole after his performance,” Michael finished, then straightened himself.

  “Man, dude, you are a sick mother fucker!” Vinnie exclaimed as his face contorted.

  “I hope you sterilized that mouth before kissing me!” Sylvia pushed Paul away grimacing.

  “I didn’t know it was a guy!” Paul retorted.

  “So you go around kissing everyone on the ass?!” Sylvia said, as her hands clamped down on her hips.

  Michael turned to the bartender to get his attention. There was an amused expression on his face as he listened to their banter. Apparently the man understood more English than he led on to. Michael was relieved that the guy believed they were only talking about the show from their previous visit. He didn’t need to raise any concerns.

  “Rum and cokes please,” Michael asked when they made eye contact.

  As the bartender placed the four full glasses on the bar, a pretty petite waitress approached Michael.

  “El jefe te necesita ahora, señor,” she notified him.

  Michael’s stomach did a somersault as a surge of energy pulsed through him.

  He was being summoned. It was show time.

  “Ok beautiful, are you ready?” Michael asked Sylvia as he hid his distress.

  She was going with him to make the deal. It was a long shot, using her beauty to woo them a little bit more, but it was worth it. Her better command of the Spanish language might also come in handy.

  Sylvia’s chin lifted and her body automatically took on its sensual pose. She was on, and she did it well.

  “Of course, mi amor, let’s go,” she said, holding her hand out to him, with the back of it facing upward, as if waiting for his lips to kiss her there. She picked up her large purse from the bar. She’d brought it for the sole purpose of putting the cocaine in it, in order to avoid looking conspicuous.

  Sylvia was putting her ass on the line for Michael and Paul. If they got busted, she would be the one in possession of the drugs, and would go to a Mexican prison for life.

  But she didn’t skip a beat, she was radiant and perfect. She was used to talking with suppliers. Granted, not suppliers of this level, but she’d spent so many years with her ex doing deals, it was second nature to her.

  Michael and Sylvia turned heads as they walked by, they were two beautiful people and they commanded attention. Paul noticed it as well, as jealousy burned inside him.

  Paul refused to admit that he was jealous of Michael. Of everything that he was, a leader, suave, charismatic, all the things that came naturally to him. He wanted it, and tried so hard to be him, knowing that he fell incredibly short in every single way.

  The little waitress led them past one of the guards and up the stairs as the man eyed them both from top to bottom, his gaze resting on Sylvia’s breasts showing through the clingy fabric of her orange halter dress. The
waitress directed them to a closed door amidst all the open ones with women scantily clad in see-thru negligees standing in the openings. Neither of them looked away, their eyes fixed on their destination.

  The waitress knocked once.

  The door opened and Michael felt Sylvia jump. He squeezed her hand gently with his, reassuring her that everything was going to be ok. At least that’s what he’d hoped.

  “Entra,” the familiar man called to them from his chair. He was alone.

  Michael directed Sylvia to enter first, being a gentleman, but never letting go of her hand.

  The door closed with a soft thud behind them. Michael looked over his shoulder and found another armed guard who had been hidden by the door when they had come through it.

  “Por favor, tome asiento,” boss man directed them, smiling.

  The guard swiveled the gun to his back as he approached the table, dragging another chair over, and placed it next to the only other vacant one at the table across from the nameless man.

  “Thank you,” Michael said almost quietly, as he led Sylvia to the table.

  “Michael, so good to see you again. Who is this lovely vision?” he asked, as his eyes undressed Sylvia.

  Sylvia knew the power a beautiful woman had. She also knew it could backfire.

  “This is a friend of mine, Sylvia. She arrived today, and her Spanish is much better than mine, so I thought I’d bring her along, in case I needed her.”

  Michael also knew it was best to be honest, as honest as one could be, during a drug deal.

  “How do you like Mexico so far, Sylvia,” boss man asked, as he sat back in his chair. He eyed her like she were his next conquest, as his look raked over her body.

  “It’s very lovely, I wish I had more time to enjoy it,” she answered him, allowing any unsaid meanings to be interpreted any way he wanted to.

  “Maybe you can come back to visit again. I would love to show you a good time,” he suggested, his invitation quite clear.

  “Maybe I will,” she replied, looking at him through her lashes and smiling.

  He smiled back at her as his tongue licked his thin lips.

  They shared a heated look, with Sylvia inviting his attention, and him letting it be known what he wanted.

  “Now, to business,” boss man said, clapping his hands. “Are you ready, Michael?”

  “Yes. Sylvia, your bag please,” Michael said.

  Sylvia handed the large pocketbook to Michael. Michael turned to the guard. He lifted the bag to him, gesturing for him to take it. Boss man told him to take it and open it, then to remove and count the money.

  “Cuarenta mil dolares,” the guard confirmed the $40,000, and placed it on the table.

  “Excellent,” he told Michael, then turned back to the guard. “El paquete por favor.”

  The guard walked to the couch on the far wall and picked up a paper-bag, then placed it in front of Michael. Michael opened the brown paper and looked inside. There were the two large bricks of clean cocaine. He closed the bag tightly and placed it in Sylvia’s purse, filling it completely.

  Boss man leaned back in his chair.

  “You are going back down for tonight’s show, no?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes, we’ll have a couple of drinks and we plan to enjoy the evening with the rest of our friends,” Michael answered him, becoming more cautious with the man’s new line of questioning.

  Boss man’s eyes became cold and hard as a sneer pulled tightly on his lips.

  “You are a brave man for hanging around with that in this little woman’s silly handbag, or is it stupidity?” he asked icily.

  The warning sent a frozen shiver up Michael’s spine.

  Their eyes collided as Michael considered the man’s dangerous words.

  “Perhaps you’re right, maybe its best if we made sure it leaves here safely. I thank you for your time, señor.”

  Michael was not a man to be intimidated easily, but he didn’t take unnecessary chances, especially when he was presented with a statement telling him to get the fuck out.

  “Of course, and that might be a wise decision. Maybe I will see you again, Michael,” he told him, as he inclined his head. “And it would be a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

  “Thank you, señor, y muchas gracias por todo,” Sylvia said sweetly. Her smile flirted with him, but her pale complexion gave away her fear.

  Downstairs the show was just beginning. An attractive naked woman was leading a donkey on stage, as her breasts swayed to the clomping of its hooves on the wooden floor.

  Vinnie and Paul were momentarily amazed by the sight in front of them. The crowd was whistling and cat-calling as the men went wild.

  “Holy shit!” Vinnie’s mouth was hanging open as his eyes stared at the animal and woman.

  “She is not going to fuck that, is she?” Paul exclaimed as he laughed nervously.

  “I don’t know,” Vinnie answered, dumbstruck.

  She began to pet the donkey, stroking the fur along his snout, then down his neck, and along his barrel body. She cooed soft words to it in a tender voice. With one of her hands still stroking its side, she reached the other beneath it and began to run it up and down the length of its penis.

  Shouts erupted from the audience, telling her to, “Suck it, fuck it, play with that big dick!”

  The donkey’s ears were moving back and forth, almost as if it were following the movement of her hand. The large pink head of its penis slowly slid out of its sheath, growing larger with each pass of her hand.

  The calls of the crowd grew louder and more demanding, insisting she, “Take it, baby!”

  Paul and Vinnie stood with their eyes fixed on the spectacle in front of them.

  The donkey began to move nervously as its sexual agitation took over his calm demeanor. Its front hooves searched for something to latch onto so it could shove its appendage somewhere to relieve itself, its need was obvious with the raging hard-on.

  Two Mexican men joined them on stage. One moved to the donkey’s head, taking the rope from the woman, and the other looped another rope around its hind-quarters. They pulled the bindings tight to hold the animal in place as the woman moved under it. She clasped onto its erection with both hands, and brought her mouth to it.

  The room exploded with cheers and hollering as the sounds bounced and vibrated off the walls.

  Michael and Sylvia made their way quickly through the standing crowd, fueled by their panic.

  Michael silently thanked God for the distraction of the show. No one noticed them as they pushed the lust hungry bodies out of their way, or Sylvia’s bag crammed full of pure cocaine. He held tightly onto her hand, and kept her close behind him. The bodies, sounds, and room rushed by them in a whirlwind, mixed with the whoosh of blood through their veins.

  They finally reached Paul and Vinnie, but they didn’t notice them either, as they stayed riveted on the woman that was giving the donkey head.

  “Let’s get of here,” Michael barked.

  “What?” Paul asked confused as he tried to wrench his eyes from the show.

  “Just fucking move!” Michael growled while pushing Paul ahead of him. Then he placed Sylvia between their bodies to shield her.

  Vinnie moved in behind him, staying close.

  It seemed everyone in the room, and the room itself, rushed by in a violent and frenzied haste. But it was them who were panicked and frightened, as they were sucked into a vortex of fear. They pushed past everything, squeezing through the bodies raucously transfixed on the woman and donkey on stage.

  They weaved their way out of the bar and down the crowded street to the car, while their eyes continuously scanned the people for any slight movement that might be a warning. Horns honked and people shouted, and each shrill that exploded in the air made their hearts pound harder.

  Finally they were in the Lincoln moving down the narrow streets, making their way out of Tijuana.

  Now all they had to do was get past border p
atrol.

  12 CHAPTER TWELVE

  On their Pan American flight back to New York, the four of them were finally able to almost relax as they sat back in their seats. Each of them had a drink sitting on the pull-down tray table in front of them, because their nerves were still wound tightly. The drugs were tucked neatly in the suitcases below, and Michael wouldn’t breathe easily until they were back in New Paltz.

  “What a fucking trip!” Paul was saying.

  He and Sylvia were sitting in the window seats, while Vinnie and Michael were adjacent to them, and had a whole row of seats to themselves in the center.

  “Yeah, no doubt. If I never saw Tijuana again, I will be a happy a man,” Michael laughed. He was relieved, but he still had a tremor of fear nagging at him.

  “It’s not over yet,” Vinnie added, reminding them with those four words they still had to get through baggage claim, and then the drive home. Anything could still happen.

  “You’re right, I don’t think I will ever be so happy to see New Paltz as I will this time!” Michael said, agreeing with him.

  “We might as well try to relax and enjoy the flight, there’s nothing else we can do now,” Sylvia suggested as she rested her head on the seatback.

  “You’re right, baby. Vinnie,” Paul leaned around Sylvia to look at Vinnie, then continued, “It’s too bad we didn’t get to see the rest of that show. Do you think she fucked the thing?”

  “I don’t know, man, that was some crazy shit,” Vinnie answered and shook his head, still amazed at what they had watched.

  “Would you be quiet, people can hear you,” Sylvia scolded him.

  “What, I didn’t say anything,” Paul chuckled.

  “Just go to sleep,” Sylvia rolled her eyes at Paul’s flagrant lack of etiquette.

  An hour later while Vinnie and Paul slept, Michael and Sylvia were still wide-eyed. Maybe they still had lingering effects of the scare they had gone through together.

  “Sylvia, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did back there. I know you know what could have happened to you if anything had gone wrong.”