Sunday, May 15, 2011

Biker Justice

Biker Justice
Chapter One

I’m restless tonight I can’t seem to find a comfortable spot in my bed. The covers have fallen onto the floor again not that I care much. I tried taking a few deep cleansing breaths to help quiet my mind but tonight it isn’t working. Sometimes I have nights like this yet I understand that it was part of the price I pay for the special work I do. It wasn’t that it seemed so far fetched that ultimately I would end up a killer. It wasn’t much of a stretch from how I make my living.

For years now I have provided the muscle for a bookie everyone knows as Uncle Guy. The old man is pushing sixty now however he runs the most successful bookmaking operation on the west coast; not counting Vegas of course. The old man is smart and fair that’s why everyone from public officials to celebrities and the average Joe place their bets with him.

On those rare occasions when one of them loses big and decides they aren’t going to pay, that’s where I come in. I have worked for Uncle Guy for a lot of years now. I started just after my and twentieth birthday. We met purely by accident. I had been arrested for my participation in a bar fight and was being held at the West Valley Station on Vanowen Street.

In the cell with me were three really drunk guys arrested when a bachelor party went too far. Besides those three, there was a Mexican keeping to himself and a guy about my age that looked totally out of place. He didn’t look like a drunk, or a tough guy, he looked like a clean cut guy that probably came from money. We got to talking and he told me he been busted for car theft and said that his old man was going to kill him. We all think that the first time we’re arrested but it usually doesn’t happen.

The kid really opened up telling me more than I needed to know. He told me that his old man was connected and a bookie. The kid was scared shitless and after listening to his story I couldn’t blame him. Forty-five minutes later a short, fat, Italian looking man dressed in an expensive jogging suit appeared in front of our cell door; along side of him stood a cop that looked a lot like Dudley Doright.

The kid jumped off the bench we were sitting on and began babbling at the bars like some punk. At least that’s what I remembered thinking at the time. You could see the mixture of disgust and disappointment written all over the older mans face but he said nothing. I felt his dark eyes on me and being me, I stared right back at him. He wasn’t going to intimidate me. Then as suddenly as he’d arrived, he disappeared down the narrow hallway. I thought the kid was gonna burst into tears but he held it in saying nothing.

Twenty minutes later the cop stepped in front of the grimy cell door and called two names. He shouted out the kids name and mine. “You both made bail. Follow me so you can be processed out.” The cop said his words sounding practically recorded. Within minutes we were out the front door. It was obvious to me who had sprung the kid but I hadn’t made a single phone call. The truth was I had no idea who had come to my rescue.

Walking down the narrow concrete steps I saw a shiny black Cadillac Eldorado parked on the street with the engine running. The passenger window automatically rolled down and I could see the fat man behind the wheel. ”Both of you get in” he barked. “I’m going to drop my son off at home. I’ll deal with him later. Then you and I are going to have a chat. I have a business opportunity to discuss with you.” He said the words matter-of-factly without looking at me.

So that was how I met and began working for Uncle Guy. That was eighteen years ago. I have received money every week just like regular people do on payday. I have taxes taken out and everything. I’m on his books as an executive assistant. Actually I am the muscle, the one person who insures that Uncle Guy always gets paid. I haven’t failed him yet nor him me. He doesn’t care what else I do with my life as long as when he calls I make myself available and believe me I do.

He’s been more than good to me financially besides paying me well he also has taught me how to invest it. When my Mom got sick and the hospital bills got out of hand, he helped out with that too. If he likes you and your straight with him there is no better friend in the world, you just don’t want to cross him. In all those years I have done a lot of painful things to people who owed Uncle Guy money. None of which I am ashamed of or have ever felt any remorse over. They all knew the game when they signed up and fair is fair, that’s how I see it.

When I was twenty-five I joined the local chapter of the Demon’s Motorcycle club. This enhanced my image as a badass. Although its true that deep down I never really thought of myself that way. It was an easy transition for me because I already knew most of the guys. I had gone to school with a most of them and that made my tenure as a prospect much shorter and much easier than someone unknown to them.

Since that first arrest at twenty I learned to avoid those kinds of situations at all costs. Not that I haven’t been in my share of bar fights. I have but I always manage to make my exit before the heat arrives. Uncle Guy insists that it stays that way and I want what he wants. It is a good arrangement and I make certain it works out.
By, Six Shooter Sally
This may be purchased on Smashwords