Sunday, March 30, 2008
Roof Top Shadow
While i was in the process of walking over to the rather plump woman in the red dress sitting down in the bar, I noticed a suspicious looking guy sitting at the bar. I had never seen him in there before so naturally I was a bit curious about the fellow. Something about him just wasnt right. He was trying just a little too hard to be noticed. He stank like a pig. He just had that ora about him. I didnt much like reporters in my bar because I figured that they were always up to no good, so imagine how peved I was when I saw this little foul cop in my establishment. I told Left to tell the bar tender to let that pig catch a glimpse of some of the tools that we kept behind the counter just to let him know what he had waiting for him if he ever came back to my place. I couldnt believe this guy. If it aint one thing its another, right? I needed a smoke and some fresh air. The only thing was that I couldnt go for a walk because it was raining cats and dogs outside. The damn whether men never got it right. Hmmp, 72 and partly cloudly...right. I walked over to the window to see if the storm had done any real damage outside. When I looked up at the clouds to try and see which direction the storm was headed, I saw what appeared to be a person standing on the roof of the Washington Heights Apartment buildings. It was kinda hard to make out exactly what they were doing on account of the freakin gale force winds and rain outside but it looked as if they were trying to cover up something on top of that roof. I couldnt make out what it was though. That was just too curious for me to let. I told Lefty that as soon as the storm let up to get up on top of that roof and check things out. Whatever was going on up there was obviously important enough to risk being struck by lightning, meaning that it was definitely something that I needed to know about. Nothing worth while should go on around here, if I didnt know about it. I told Lefty to find out what they were covering up by any means necessary. I wanted to know who was on that building and why. I told Lefty to get the scoop and bring the info on this mystery character to me.
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Shawty Wanna Thug
It was about time the rain subsided. It had been raining non-stop for what had felt like an eternity, but now only a slight mist remained. Being cooped up inside watching TV for four days had been no fun. The day job runs slow when the junkies don't want to come out from under the overpass to get wet... both literally and in the way Marcus liked. He knew his get-rich-quick scheme was a long shot... but hey, high risk meant even higher gain. Lacing his coke with flour was hella risky. He wasn't too concerned about the customers getting mad, hell, they would probably never find out. It was his superiors from back home who he would hear the heat from. It was strange how the Bandanistas operated. Marcus always thought their code of honor was bizarre. It didn't really make sense how you could kill a man with a wife and kids, but you were executed if you were found messing with the product. "Respect for the streets my ass," Manuel muttered under his breath as he placed an order for 500 pounds of flour to be delivered at Oscar's. The plan was to have Oscar take the fall... but now that Marcus knew of his connections with Dominic Roberto Machelli, that was gonna be a lot harder. Machelli's standing in the Colombian community was high... much higher than his own.
All Oscar would have to do is keep his mouth shut and they would be alright. Marcus wanted to get out of the apartment and think about how this would, could, ever possibly happen. He went to the ninth floor to collect "insurance" and saw a guy he knew only as Kevin leaving apartment 981 looking over his shoulder. Something was up... but had way too much on his plate to be concerning himself with such trivial pursuits. Plus he had no problem with Kevin... and his Colombian upbringing had taught him to stay out of other people's shit, unless you wanted it as your own. Some chick was crying... seemed like bad news.
Marcus Manuel need to take a drive. He entered the car and slammed the steering wheel in disgust. His usually calm demeanor was interrupted with a flash of fear. If he didn't get the job done, Oscar would have his head... and if he did and his cartel found out... Oscar would be like a sunny day in the park compared to that. He turned on the car and the subs boomed.
The rain began to pick up again. "Fan-fucking-tastic," Marcus muttered to himself as he turned on the windshield wipers and pulled out of the parking lot. This much was clear: the Cadillac Escalade was driving into what was quite the ambiguous future.
Oscar Alcazar
It wasn't the rain that bothered Oscar. Nor was it the police, or even the intruders. It was business, business, business. Anybody would be wary of flashing blue lights, especially when they're parked outside Oscar's. No, the cops themselves were no trouble. A wad of bills each and they'd stay out of his hair, or what hair he had left, that is. What troubled him was the shop. After TWO SWORDFIGHTERS FELL THROUGH THE SKYLIGHT................ there was a bit of cleaning up to do. Once again, he'd get Alexander to do it. Hopefully it wouldn't hurt business.
And in the morning, the rain was starting to clear up. He threw on an XXL A-shirt, grabbed his basketball, and braved the rain for some free throws down at the park. His days of running were long gone, but his massive arms could stroke a shot like nobody's business. And he could box out with the best of them.
Slicks was already layin' some up by the time Oscar's pristine Cadillac rolled into the parking lot. The rims glinted as the morning sun peered through clouds of rain. "Yo, let's warm up with a little h-o-r-s-e, bro," Charlie said.
"Whatever floats your boat, lil guy," Oscar replied.
As Charlie's shot sunk, giving Oscar an "O," he turned to see a sizzlin' Maserati pull up next to his ride.
"Damn, what is this, a car show or something?" Charlie exclaimed.
"Nuh-uh man, this is business," Oscar said.
Machelli cracked his window. "You better start your engine, son. We got trouble. Follow me."
Oscar ruffled Charlie's hair, grabbed his ball, and slunk into his plush leather interior. As the key rotated, the steady beat of Lupe Fiasco's "Put You On Game" filled his chubby ears. He reversed and swerved, kicking up dust and gravel, and speeding off after Machelli's speedster. he looked out the window. Squinting, he picked out the name "Victoria Lampshade." Did he really see taxidermy? Really? Wow, maybe a butcher and a taxidermist could do a little business. He could use the meat, she could use the hide.
He looked forward, gazing through Machelli's Maserati back window. He could have sworn he saw the faint outline of Grandma Pearl's curls, bouncing in the back seat. No, he thought, it couldn't be.
The Boss
The time had come. The shipment of flour was in and it was time to get down to business. Marcus had pretty much come to grips with the fact that it was do or die time... and he wasn't scared anymore. The back loading room of Oscar's butcher shop seemed even sketchier than ever and he knew today it could end up being the site of a massacre. The sound of the strong wind whipping at the side of the building made an eerie sound that just put Marcus in an uncomfortable position. He didn't know how he could get caught but he did know that the Bandanistas had a peculiar knack of just knowing stuff. The big cheerful lady on the side of the delivery van posed as an odd juxtaposition of sorts: this jolly, wholesome lady delivering what was to become anything but. And Machelli just standing there with that baseball bat and those sunglasses. Looked like something out of some cheezy gangster movie. Marcus thought to himself that he would have laughed out loud were the situation at hand not so dire.
Carlos had delivered 20 kilos in packages labeled "From Mom." "So what exactly are we gonna be doing?" Oscar asked, clearly skeptical of the plan. "Easy," Marcus replied knowing that that response was completely untrue, "We gotta just lace all the coke with flour. I'm thinking 20% of every ounce we'll lace with the flour, giving us a 20% increase in total profits. At this rate, in a month we'll have made 20,000 extra dollars that won't have to be taxed by the Bandanistas." "This is risky man," Oscar replied. "I dunno if I'm down." They began to ration out the coke.
A door opened on the other side of the garage and the two men looked to where the sound had come from.
"Dios Mio! RUN!"
Shots rang out.
I know I don’t pay much for this place, but damn! Can a person get some peace and quiet? Just cause its daytime people get to thinking they can make all the noise they damn well please. Inconsiderate bastards, don’t ever think about people not living according to their time. Ain’t my fault I sleep during the day. When the hell else are they going to watch a show? During Lunch? Wonder who did what now. Sirens goin off all over the place. Guess I’ll just get up now. Got shit to do anyway.
Think I’ll were the pink jacket today. Seems like I always need a jacket in this hell hole, never warm enough to walk out in a nice blouse like it was back home. I miss the way things used to be. I know I decided to do this on my own account, but I don’t think I’m cut out for this. Should take a job as some stuffy secretary for some arrogant ass. No, no. This is ok. It wont be for too long. I’ll make my way out soon enough.
I hate walking down this hall. Always dirty, always stank. No more stank than the elevator though. ‘bout time it got here. Great its that guy from Rick’s. I didn’t know he lived here. I hate seeing people from the club outside of it. I’m not ashamed or anything, people round here know what I do. Just don’t like it. Maybe he won’t recognize me. He didn’t stay too long. Think he left with Coley. Don’t really remember what happened. I’m taking the stairs.
The town is even dirtier than the damp and nasty hall. Least there ain’t no sketchy lookin strangers lurking round the corner. Seems to me like somethin’s always goin down around here. But then again, I’m always out at the time when most eerie shit is going down. It’s not that kind of time right now. Sun is still out. Probably got something to do with that Italian dude from the club. He seems like he’d be involved with sketchy looking dark vans and sirens. Maybe he’s out to get someone, or maybe someone is out to get his ass. He seems all right to me. Nice enough for a gangster, not too bad looking. I’ll stop by there before I go to work today.
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