Little White Lies (28 page)

Lionel watches me and whispers to Billy. “He’s going for it, Bat. He makes four… we’re fucked.”

Billy glances up, looks at me and then directs his attention to the green. He turns to his bag and pulls out a five wood… his mind made up. As he addresses the ball I remain still, but once he makes contact, I move to return my club to the bag. I have no intention of hitting anything more than a seven iron lay up. I watch as Billy’s ball hooks into the center of the pond. It’s difficult for me to focus on my shot with all the commotion following this unfortunate turn of events.

“That motherfucker never intended to hit a wood,” Lionel shouts. “He was going to lay up the whole time.”

“It’s two-on-one fast-break time, Fatso!” A.J. chortles. “How does it feel to be all by your pudgy lonesome?”

“That’s dirty pool, Phil!” Lionel shouts throwing his hat on the ground. “I thought you were a better man than this.” Glaring at A.J., “Playing with this prick is starting to rub off on you. You’re getting to be a no-good bastard, just like he is.”

Lionel’s emotions are still in control when he hits his next shot and my bogey five is good enough to win the day.

“We’re not paying,” Lionel grouses as we leave the green and walk to our carts. “This shit’s not right, Phil.”

A.J. comforts me with his arm around my shoulder, lest I fall victim to Lionel’s verbal onslaught.

“Don’t listen to that pile of shit, Phil. I want you to know how much I admire your little move out there. That was pure craftsmanship, excellent course management. It’s the way the game should be played.”

A.J. starts to laugh so hard he begins to stagger and he reaches back to hold my arm so he won’t lose his balance.

“Did you see Train try to hit that last pitch shot?” he asks wiping tears from his eyes. “He had everything moving on that swing but his bowels… and that’s just a guess. He might have had a little problem there, too. Too much pressure to be playing the likes of us.”

‘I’ could have lost the hole, but fortunately ‘we’ won it. Chalk up another ‘W’ for the undefeated team of Jackson and Richards.

Notice I made certain who got top billing.

***

We kept up with our agenda this morning, so we have no meeting to contend with tonight. I, for one, hate to be in Miami and not visit Joe’s Stone Crab House at least once. Tonight would be as good a time as any and it would offer us the opportunity to mend fences with the boys from Atlanta. Of course, all this assumes they’ve cooled down since this afternoon’s match.

Joe’s is located on Miami Beach, about fifteen minutes from Doral. As usual it’s packed with a one and a half to two hour wait. But it’s the best place in the world to get stone crabs, so we’re prepared to deal with it. Tonight, however, A.J.’s celebrity status gets us a table ten minutes after we walk in the door. I’m sure he’ll see to it that they won’t regret giving him the star treatment.

More a food factory than a restaurant, Joe’s turns out good food fast, as long as it’s stone crabs. They have other items on the menu, but even the waiters look at you funny if you don’t order stone crabs.

Our drinks appear less than a minute after we’re seated. Maybe it’s my imagination, but if my time estimate is anywhere near correct, then it doesn’t seem possible they could have the drinks here so quickly. Perhaps they have a mind reader back there somewhere, or all the tables are wired and they heard us discussing our selections before we actuallyordered. Anything’s possible. Anything but four different drinks served in a crowded restaurant in what seems like less than a minute.

The general noise level is high and we have to stay close to the table to make ourselves heard. Our meal arrives in a timely manner and it tastes as good to me as others have in the past. The only real surprise is how such a small plate of stone crabs can be so filling. But that’s what happens every time I come here. I’m always starved when I arrive and then I can never finish my meal, strange combination, but consistent. However, I’m not alone in my distress since no one asks for dessert… including my porky little opponent, Lionel. So it’s wine and a little fruit and we’re ready to roll on out of here.

The night is typical for Florida this time of year. It’s balmy with a cool breeze coming off the water. A.J. suggests a short walk before heading back to Doral and no one objects. We could all use a little exercise after our recent eating binge. If I carry this load to bed tonight, I might not make it to morning.

The neighborhood around here is not the best, but with four adult men we have little to fear. We don’t plan to go far and if we stick to the main thoroughfares we shouldn’t have any difficulty. Our pace is more of an amble than a walk, but we’re all loose and relaxed with no agenda for a change. We get there when we get there.

A.J. and Lionel are leading the way with Bat and myself trailing by a few yards. There’s some cross talk, but not a lot. We turn a corner and standing before us are three young toughs. A.J. has his back turned, about to make some comment to Bat when things start happening very fast. Knives appear in the hands of two of the young men, while the biggest of the three moves towards the building to our left.

Seeing the look on our faces, A.J. turns and we all stop in our tracks. This appears to be a chance encounter, but there’s no doubt they mean to make the most of it. There aren’t many options here. We could try to run, but Lionel would never make it. Our only chance is to stick together. I move to the front and push A.J. to the rear with my left arm.

“Stay with Lionel… don’t let anyone get behind me,” I whisper as A.J. slides back. I notice Billy moving forward… to my left. Billy is a big man, but I have no idea how he will react in this type of situation. Our adversaries are young, but they aren’t kids… and they do have knives.

I raise my hands to show I am not armed. I don’t want any mistakes because of bad lighting. Might as well see if we can talk our way out of this. Not much chance, but it’s worth a try.

“Okay fellas,” I begin, trying to sound calm and reasonable, “we don’t want any trouble here. Why don’t you let us back away and no one will get hurt.”

The three men are spread across the wide sidewalk, a pace or two apart. The largest of the three still has no weapon… probably figures he doesn’t need one. The other two are now in front of me, one facing me, the other to my right. They both carry their knives in their right hands. Contrary to popular belief,knife fights are messy. No matter how well prepared you are, you can get hurt in a knife fight. And knives in the hands of people who know how to use them are deadly. I have no illusions about our chances. I would much rather walk or run away from here, but that’s just not one of the options. We’re going to have to fight.

Right now I’m getting really pissed, a normal reaction, I suppose, at this stage of the game. The nerve of these bastards! Someone’s probably going to die in a few moments. I may go down, but I know that at least one of these assholes will go with me. As the seconds pass, I no longer want to run… instead, I enter the zone and all I want now is to get it on.

“I think I recognize that nigger back there,” the man in the center says with a sneer. “Hey, man, ain’t you that nigger singer?” He turns to the other knifer on his left. “I thinks we got us a nice rich star for our evenin’s entertainment, boys. Shit, Christmas might be late, but I think it’s finally here.”

All three men laugh, but the laughter is tight. They’re anxious to get it on, too. The big guy glares at Billy in silence… he has chosen his man.

“Look, boys, I’m going to ask you one more time,” I say keeping my voice low and steady. “Don’t start something we’ll all regret. These things have a way of getting out of hand. Just let us leave.”

The man to my front speaks again.

“Oh, we’ll let you leave all right, but we have to do a little business first. Then we might see if a nigger-lover bleeds the same as a nigger.”

The last word is punctuated with a grunt as he jumps forward and thrusts his knife in my direction.

He’s a bit short with his underhanded thrust and I actually have to move forward to get a good block on it and get his knife hand in the air. I hold his wrist and spin to his right, holding his arm over my head. Planting my feet, I bring his arm down hard on my shoulder. This boy is fucked… the sound is not unlike a dry branch breaking as the bone snaps above his elbow. He screams and the knife drops to the ground.

All this has taken less than two seconds. The second man, knife at his side stands looking at his partner, momentarily stunned. I release the lifeless arm and chop him hard across the throat as he goes down. He falls heavily to the sidewalk like the worthless sack of shit that he is.

I jump over his body and kick at the second man’s knee. I caught him with a glancing blow, but I didn’t hurt him enough to do any good. He isn’t easy to pursue since I’ve got to stay out of the way of that damn knife. I continue to attack, this time striking out with my left foot, but it’s a clean miss and all I succeed in doing is backing him off the curb.

Billy’s man gets caught up in the action momentarily and forgets about his business long enough for Bat to catch him flush on the jaw with a hard right. The punch sends him head first into the building where the unyielding stone deals him yet another blow. He rolls on his side and Billy finishes him with a solid size twelve in the face. Blood sprays acrossthe walk from the large gash that opens on the man’s forehead. Street fights aren’t very pretty.

It’s nice to know I can now give our remaining host my full attention. He’s unhurt, armed and pissed off for some reason. That makes two of us.

“Stay away you fucker or I’ll kill you!” he growls with defiance.

It’s strange how time changes attitudes. A few moments ago all I wanted to do was to get out of here. But that’s no longer the case. Right now I don’t want this to end. This boy is going to learn one of life’s brutal lessons… some days you get the bear… and some days the bear gets you. If he runs, I’ll run him down. No one’s going to leave this party… not now.

I step into the street and fake a kick at the man’s head with my left foot. He counters with a wild lunge, slightly losing his balance in the process. I continue forward with a straight kick to his ribs and this time I connect, breaking bones on contact. He grunts and his knife drops to the ground. Standing in a half-crouch, holding his side, he’s virtually helpless as I put him out of business with a round kick that crashes across the bridge of his nose.

One could argue the last kick wasn’t necessary, but there’s more to it than that. This way I don’t care what the law does with him. He’s going to hurt for a long time. In fact, I’d like to punish these boys some more, but I’m not sure my companions would go for it.

My first concern is Billy.

“You okay?”

Billy is shaking his right hand and working his fingers.

“Bastard’s got a hard head. I think I might have busted something.”

“If your fingers work then it shouldn’t be anything serious,” I say, watching him continue to work his hand. It might be horseshit but all the doctors seem to say that whenever anyone bangs up their hand.

“Nice working with you, Billy. We got lucky there… it could have been a bad time.”

I look over at A.J. and Lionel.

“Thanks, A.J., I know you didn’t want to stay out of it, but sometimes too many people can get in each other’s way.”

Lionel’s eyes and mouth are frozen in the open position and I’m not sure he’s even breathing.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims finally. “I’d heard you were a bad ass, Phil, but nobody ever said you were a fuckin’ train wreck. Shit, those assholes never had a chance.”

I ignore the rest of Lionel’s chatter as I walk over to check out our former adversaries.

“Let’s see what we have here,” I mutter mostly to myself, bending over the man with the broken arm. He’s lying on the ground with his head working back and forth as he tries to wipe the pain from his mind. His right arm extends from his body, but it has too many bends in it, at least one going in the wrong direction. The skin is swollen and turning blue from the internal bleeding. My companions watch quietly as I empty the man’s pockets and remove his watch and other jewelry. He offers no resistance.

“We have a watch, a gold bracelet, two gold chains and about three hundred dollars in cash,” I announce before moving on to the second man.

I continue with my work, while A.J. walks over to the curb and sits down.

“Phil, just what the fuck are you doing?” he asks with apparent interest.

I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing, but I decide to explain anyway so there won’t be any hard feelings.

“I’m doing unto others what they would like to have done unto me.”

A.J. puts his head in his hands and moves it slowly back and forth, moaning softly, “I don’t believe this… I’m working with a fucking mugger. You’re robbing these guys!”

I move on to the third attacker and a few moments later, finished with my task, I again take inventory. “We have almost twelve hundred in cash, three watches, two bracelets and assorted gold chains. Not bad. Oh, and two knives.”

I stuff the loot into my pockets and start in the direction of our car. I don’t get very far before A.J. is at my side with his hand on my arm.

“Hey wait a minute… aren’t you going to do anything about those guys back there? They’re hurt bad.”

I continue to walk, not slowing my pace. I have no desire to remain here any longer.

“Fuck ‘em… hazards of the trade,” I explain.

“Jesus, Phil, their injuries might be serious. Don’t you care?”

Reluctantly I stop and turn to my employer.

“Look, A.J., you’re the boss. If you want to do something, I can’t stop you. A few minutes earlier those assholes held all the aces, or thought they did. Do you think they would give a shit if they had prevailed when we were working out our little disagreement back there? We were very lucky, plain and simple. We came out of a knife fight without a scratch.

“You’re right, they are badly hurt. But if you think I’m going to spend the rest of this night at a police station, answering stupid questions regarding how and why we kicked the shit out of three people who were trying to mug us, you’re crazy. Further, if you think I’m going to make it easy for one of those bastards to hire a scumbag lawyer to find us and sue us… you’re even crazier. As I said before, fuck ‘em.”