Major havoc

The Trouble Consultant Chronicles Vol II

Chapter 1

He knew better. You don’t sleep with clients. It’s unprofessional. It’s complicates things. And it was his number one rule. As important as not crossing the proton pack streams. Or feeding mogwai’s after midnight! Yet here he was sitting in a railroad apartment in the Red Hook section of Brooklyn. In a compromising position with another gorgeous woman he’d protected.

When Lexi contacted him, she was terrified because her psychopath son’s father ironically named Monster, who had recently been released from Sing-Sing, called and said that he wanted to pick up where things left off before he did a five-year bid for armed robbery and assault. She did not. Monster wasn’t trying to hear it. He was fueled off of Hennessy and furious over rumors that she had been seeing other guys while he was away, especially the rumor that his son Fabian might not even be his. Monster showed up at her home rattling the door with his big fists demanding answers. Through the peephole she begged him to go to his mother’s and sleep it off. That this wasn’t how their first meeting should go down and they could arrange for him to meet Fabian when he wasn’t drunk.

Swollen with raging jail muscles, Monster scoffed at the offer with colorful language and warned Lexi that he knew she had another nigga in there and for his bitch ass to come outside and take this ass whipping or he’d knock the door down! The door unlocked. And an even scarier monster stepped out. Angry, loud words were exchanged, and in a flash, there were two hits, Monster getting hit, and Monster hitting the floor! Through slurred speech and a bruised ego, the beaten man gave a half-hearted apology and agreed to come back when Lexi said it was ok. Once he was gone, Lexi gratefully offered her hero a drink. Then her bed. And in a moment of temporary weakness he accepted both.

He should have left once the job was done. But he was a sucker for a gorgeous black woman with a beautiful slicked back head of hair in a t-shirt and no panties, holding a glass of his preferred Scotch. Instantly their bodies collided but at the last minute he couldn’t go through with it. Something wouldn’t let him. She knew it definitely wasn’t her. And judging from his bulging manhood ready to burst through his pants like that Alien creature, it wasn’t him either.

“So, who’s Donnie? You moaned her name.” Lexi seductively bit her bottom lip and whispered in his ear. She inhaled his masculine scent deeply turned on, then licked his ear determined to make him forget all about what’s her face.

“Mommy?” a little boy appeared rubbing his eyes.

The adults froze at the sight of her four and a half-year-old son. “I’ll sit outside in my car for a little while. Just in case.” The hero said in a raspy voice, rising from the bed. He stopped before the boy. “Hey lil man. Fabian, right? Take care of your mom okay?” he said and the wide-eyed child could only nod at the larger than life superhero exiting his apartment.

“I’m lost in emotion. Telling you things, you really shouldn’t know. Oh baby, I’m lost in emotion. Am I a fool? At least my friends think so. Que sera, sera.” Jennifer, an adorable 12-year-old Puerto Rican girl dressed in Buster Brown shoes, a Menudo t-shirt, sunshine barrettes and a pretty bubble-gum pink pencil skirt, danced and sang along with her idol, Lisa-Lisa of the Cult Jam, courtesy of the transistor radio sitting on the counter of the Brooklyn Crown Heights neighborhood bodega, slash Botanica. A beautiful red parrot sat perched on a stand in its cage whistling and dancing.

“Ay bendito. Muy bien. Wonderful! Splendid! Bonita! Don’t you agree Chico?” the grey-haired woman behind the register asked her bird as she and applauded and praised the child.

‘Bonita!’ the parrot responded with a nod and whistle.

Jennifer, the fly little performer, giggled and took a bow as she dreamed of one day performing in Madison Square Garden.

“Thank you mija. Here are the things on your mother’s grocery list. A loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter. Bye-bye please come again.” Mrs. Olga Hernandez smiled as the child skipped out of her store. Once the door closed, she dropped her smile and nervously eyed the man in the dingy pea coat standing in the center aisle with the permanently fixed-frown, who was staring directly back at her. The creepy guy slowly approached her and as he did, he purposely knocked items from the shelves to the floor.

When he reached the front counter, Olga could smell the foul fragrance of drugs and desperation emitting from his pores as he stood before her breathing heavily, contaminating the air. “Como esta, Tia? You’re looking quite well.” He hissed as he leaned towards Chico’s cage and smiled. “Hey Chico.”

‘Pendejo!’ Chico replied.

“Cállate bird! You better chill before I sprinkle some Adobo on your ass and turn you into arroz con pollo!”

“I told you not to come here again. Now get out before I take off my chancletas and beat your tail!” Olga remarked shaking her head shamefully.

“Now, now Tia, is that any way for you to speak to your beloved nephew?” he asked in a condescending voice, showing off rotten teeth through a sickening grin.

“You were once my beloved nephew. But no more! I don’t even know who this person standing before me is. I swear, if your father and my dearly departed Antonio were still alive to see how you turned out-”

“But they’re not! Now are they?” he snapped causing her to jump.

“Julio you should leave. I told you, you’re no longer welcome here! You and your brother need help and I am too old for this!” she said to the nephew that once upon a time she would have given her life for.

“Fine. You want me gone? I’m gone! Right after you reach into your register and give me everything in it!” He demanded through a sniffle.

“Why, so you can spend it on your nasty drug habit? No! I’ve given both you and Hector more than enough already. My conscience is clear. I will light a candle for you.”

Julio furiously glared at the woman who became a second mother to him after breast cancer robbed him of his first one, then grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly. Chico became upset, excitedly flapping his wings in his cage and squawking while tossing feathers and bird seed about.

“Unless you’re lighting a vela de dinero don’t bother. Now I’m not messing around Tia! Give me the cash or I’ll-” a bell rang indicating someone entered the store followed by loud heavy footsteps that were accompanied by panting and nails scratching the linoleum tiles. Julio forcibly released his Aunt then held a finger to his crusty lips and shot her a warning look to be silent. He glanced up at the round security mirror in the ceiling. A chill went down his spine as a broad-shouldered black man and a dog went into the back of the store to where the beverages were kept. The man in red went into the fridge, then he and his canine approached them.

“Hola!” The large man under the bright red Kangol hat greeted cheerfully. He then placed 2 frosty bottles of Pink Champale on the counter.

“Hola!” Mrs. Hernandez smiled back.

‘Hola!’ Chico squawked back.

The man in red smiled at the friendly Parrot then frowned at Julio. “Hola!” he said again after receiving no reply the first time. Julio didn’t make eye contact and replied with a half nod. Unfazed by the shade, the large man shrugged and returned to Chico. “Nice to see some of us have manners.” He then turned to Mrs. Hernandez, “I’ll also take a box of Philly blunts and a pack of Newports. On second thought, just make it two looseys. You know what? I’m sorry for the indecisiveness. Scratch the cigarettes all together and just give me a pack of paradise punch Bubbalicious instead. Quiet as it’s kept, I haven’t chewed bubble gum since the Carter administration, but I once read somewhere that people trying to kick smoking cancer sticks chew gum. And Ma Duke’s is on me hard to kick this habit.” He shared with a friendly smile then peeped everyone eyeing the Philly Blunts he smoked his weed in, “…cigarettes, not trees. I mean let’s not get carried away, cause studies have found that two to three blunts per day reduces your risk of giving a fuck, you know what I’m saying big man?” He said jokingly to Julio, holding up his palm for a high five.

Unamused and annoyed, Julio left him hanging and shot him a death stare wishing the chatty customer and his mutt, would hurry up and go. His high was wearing off and he desperately wanted another hit. “Tia, salte de esa moreno antes que le rompe la cara!” Julio said in a thick Nuyorican accent with a sneer to his Aunt, which translated to, ‘Auntie get rid of the black guy before I kick his ass!’

 “No habla bullshit!” The man in red said condescendingly as his dog seemed to take offense to Julio’s rudeness and let out a low growl. “Major!” he said. “Please forgive my puppy-dog. He doesn’t like-how do you say, low life assholes who take advantage of their sweet old auntie’s kindness by shaking her down for drug money, in Spanish?”

Julio whipped his head at the smiling man in red. ‘Bang Bang’ by Joe Cuba, played in the background.

“Pinche cabron!” Mrs. Hernandez translated. Julio spun at his Aunt eyeing her suspiciously, then back at the smiling man in red who slid on a pair of red leather fingerless gloves.

“¿Entonces dijiste algo sobre patearme el culo?” the man in red said which translated into, ‘So you said something about kicking my ass?’

“Pendejo!” Julio snarled and jammed his hand in his pocket!

“Major-HEEL!” the man barked a command and Julio screamed as the spunky hound buried its sharp dagger-like teeth deep into Julio’s Achilles heel, twisting his flesh and tearing open a painfully bloody wound.

The punk pulled a switch blade and motioned forward like he was about to stab the pup then found himself tasting the business end of a thick four fingered ring that spelled HAVOC in big block letters. When he twisted and hit the ground, he was out of commission.

“Everyone has a plan…until they get punched in the mouth!” The man in red said shaking his head at Julio pathetically.

The front door opened and a nervous man hurried in, “Qué pasa Julio? Did you get the money yet?” he asked walking in off the street acting as a look out. When he saw what was going down, he snarled, “Hijo de puta!” and pulled out a white tube sock filled with pennies and started swinging the makeshift weapon at the man in red like a medieval club.

The punk hurled insults in Spanish as he destroyed merchandise and smashed items in the store. High out of his mind he missed the large fast-moving man in red by a mile and hit a metal rack splitting open the tube sock. Pennies rained everywhere as the man in red moved in and stopped the punk dead in his tracks by tagging him with a powerful four-punch combination that would make Smoking Joe Frazier proud, leaving his face covered in red letter-shaped welts. He then scooped the scumbag into the air like he had hollow bird bones filled with helium and body slammed him on the ground beside his loser brother.

“Believe it or not, I took it easy on you two assholes because your dear sweet aunt begged me to. Personally, I would have preferred to leave you with permanent injuries. Now she’s made it extremely clear she is no longer giving either of you any more money to fuel your drug habits. And until you get your shit together, you are not allowed to set foot in her store. Got it?”  the man in red asked leaning forward practically begging for them to disagree.

“Yes,” Julio moaned then elbowed his shook brother who nodded simultaneously.

“Don’t tell me, you fucking goofball! Tell your Aunt!” he snarled.

“Sorry Tia. We won’t come back.” promised Hector, Julio’s even dumber brother.

“There’s a rehab center over at Kings County Hospital run by a guy named Andrew Carmichael. Dude’s a magician. He can turn losers into winners. I’ll place a call and tell him to expect you.” he suggested.

As the sad pair staggered to their feet Julio mouthed ‘te amo’ to their Aunt and left.

“Pendejo!”  squawked Chico.

“You’ve got some vocabulary.” The man smiled at the bird.

Mrs. Hernandez dried a tear, said a quick prayer for her boys, then turned to her new favorite customer. “Thank you so much. I didn’t want to involve the police because they might wind up in jail, or worse. They’re really good boys deep down but after their father was killed by a mugger, then my husband died of a heart attack, with no male guidance around they just lost their way.”

He grinned sympathetically, “I completely understand. But they’re not boys any more. They’re grown men. And they can’t keep using their past as an excuse to ruin their future.”

She nodded like it pained her to accept the truth. “Thank you. You’re a decent gentleman.”

“Blame my mother.” He winked then kneeled down to stroke his puppy-dog. “Good, job Major. Good boy. Gimme some,” he said holding up his fist as his four-legged partner placed his paw against it then stood up on his hind legs and licked his bearded face lovingly. The pup took notice of a rubber bone chew toy hanging on a rack. “You like this?”

“I have something even better, un momento.” Mrs. Hernandez snapped her fingers and vanished behind her counter. A bell rang, indicating that someone had either entered or left the store. She reappeared with a juicy ham bone from the deli counter and an envelope filled with payment money. “Here you are. Something for the both of…you.” The man in red and his canine accomplice were gone. Left behind was a twenty-dollar bill. The cost for 2 bottles of beer, two boxes of Philly blunts, a pack of paradise punch Bubbalicious bubble gum and one dog chew toy. She held up the money utterly confused then turned to Chico. “Qué? But I thought I was supposed to pay him.”

‘That was B.T. Express singing their hit, ‘Do it ‘til You’re Satisfied.’ And I hope that’s exactly what you’re out there doing. This is W-B-L-S 107.5, the Quiet Storm. Greetings and salutations. Vaughn Harper is my name and I’m your host. Welcome to the best radio station in New York City where we supply you with three hundred and sixty degrees of musical excellence, warmth, beauty love and sensitivity. And just a brief reminder on Wednesdays between ten and two you can catch me live at Sweet Waters Sixty-eight street and Amsterdam Avenue here in the heart of the city where I’ll be hosting live. So come on through and enjoy yourself. Now, for all the lovers out there listening we are going to continue the tone with a new one from Prince off the new Batman movie soundtrack.’ 

As Prince Rogers Nelson ironically sang Scandalous in the background, seventeen-year-old Jermaine Lamb shook his head in disbelief and smiled at the woman ten years his senior after a mutual sweaty orgasm. Sure, the slim olive-skinned heart breaker blessed with perfect teeth and a curly fade was no stranger to bagging impressionable young ladies, but the moment the jaw droppingly gorgeous woman of a certain age with legs like Tina Turner, curves like Pam Grier and looks like Jane Kennedy, strolled through the revolving doors of his part time after school job at Woolworth’s, he knew today was his lucky day. He scratched the couple of hairs sprouting from his chin and smiled as he thought about the events leading from the stockroom to her bedroom…

‘Attention Woolworth shoppers. Stock up on cold weather gear. Pac-Man ski hats, ear-muffs, thermal underwear, and Freezy Freaky gloves now ten percent off with our super savings sale.’

“Sup Ophelia, you keep smiling at a brother like that and I might have to buy you a fake Gucci bag.” The charming teenager flirted with the cute cashier as she walked by causing her to blush.

“Yo Jermaine, what’s the difference between Michael Jackson and Richard Pryor?” A stock boy in desperate need of some Clearasil, named Andy asked his smooth-talking coworker.

“Man, I dunno.” Jermaine shrugged.

“Michael Jackson was burned using Pepsi and Richard Pryor was burned using coke.” Andy laughed. Jermaine rolled his eyes. “Really…nothing? Ok, I got another one. What’s the name of Mister T’s girlfriend...April, fools! Get it?” He said mimicking Mr. T’s gruff voice as he laughed at his own jokes.  

“I do and it’s cornier than the first one.” The handsome stock boy said disinterested while using a box cutter to slice open a box so he could stock its contents on the shelves. “Oh snap, there’s a diet candy called Ayds. Terrible fucking name! But they ain’t lying Ayds will make you lose weight.” Jermaine said holding up a box of Ayds and immaturely giggling.

“So will the crack diet. Lemme ask you something would you date an older woman?” Andy asked.

“Maybe. If she’s like Clair Huxtable older yes. From what I hear they can cook, they don’t play games, they don’t do drama, they can hold a good conversation, and they loooove sex! But if she’s Moms Mabley older, nope!... Why?”

“Because Misses Huxtable just walked in and she’s headed this way.” Andy said pointing towards the sophisticated looking woman coming over.

 “Stop the press! Who’s that?” Jermaine said biting his bottom lip as the star of his mental, mom porn headed their way. He straightened his posture and smiled in the gorgeous woman’s direction as she stepped to him. “Hello, what have we here?” he asked smoothly.

She glanced at the I.D. tag on his blue smock and asked, “Excuse me, Jermaine is it? I’m looking for some sexy lingerie And I was wondering if you could help me, pick something out.”

Jermaine raised an eyebrow and switched into swagger mode, “If I may be so bold, a woman as beautiful as you, has no business shopping for intimate apparel in the same establishment you can buy a pet rock from. Might I suggest you try A&S next door instead because there’s nothing here that would do a woman of your, caliber justice.” he said flirtatiously as his pimply faced coworker Andy stared on like Daniel from the Karate kid watching the master at work.

“Aren’t you sweet. Tell me, if you had the chance to spend the night with a woman of my caliber, what would you suggest she wear to bed?”

“Well since you asked, my motto is lingerie gets in the way. So, I prefer she wear nothing.” he flirted without flinching as he unsuccessfully tried not to stare at her hypnotizing cleavage on display in a form fitting gold dress.

The cougar sized the cub up and down like he was on an auction block and she was considering making a purchase. “Tell me Jermaine, what time do you get off?”

Suppressing the urge to say he just did when she walked in, he glanced at his knock off Gucci watch then replied, “In about fifteen minutes, why?”

She peered over her Marilyn Monroe style wide lensed Channel shades and smiled, “Well I was thinking that perhaps you could accompany me next door to A&S and help me pick out some lingerie, so I can ‘not’ wear it to bed tonight.”

Andy drooled and Jermaine winced his eyes and mischievously licked his lips LL Cool J style, “I never caught your name.” Jermaine asked.

“It’s Shelia.” She whispered.

“I think that can be arranged, Shelia.” Jermaine said catching serious Mrs. Robinson vibes then turned to Andy. “Do me a solid and punch me out?” he winked as he strolled out of Woolworth’s with Shelia on his arm.

Andy shook his head with a sigh. “Man I swear, some guys feast while other guys starve.”

Half an hour later a Gold Audi 5000 pulled up on a quiet block in Brownsville in front of a well-kept 19^th century brownstone. Shelia lowered the volume a little on Stevie Wonder crooning ‘Make Sure You’re Sure’ and turned to Jermaine with a mixture of worry and desperation written all over her face. “Listen Dreamboat I’m gonna cut straight to the chase. I recently got a bit of bad news that’s got me down in the dumps.”

            “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I still haven’t made up my mind…yet.” she paused like she was struggling with what was on her mind then removed her shades and looked into the six foot something young man’s seductive eyes. She looked as if she had been crying. “What I do know is I’m in desperate need of a night of alcohol and bad decisions.”

Jermaine squeezed her thigh, “I got you.”

Moments later they exploded through the door of her brownstone and made a bee line upstairs straight to her bedroom. After some incredible sex’, Shelia looked over at her underaged lover and smiled. “Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked as the next song Vaughn Harper chose to play was If This World Were Mines by Luther Vandross.

“Well you’ve already had your bad decision. So, how’s about that alcohol.” Jermaine asked.

“Aren’t you kind of young for alcohol?” she smirked.

“I dunno. You tell me.” he asked leaning in to bite her neck while placing his hands under the sheets causing her to close her eyes, squirm and moan. “Women always closing their eyes during sex. Ya’ll don’t ever wanna see a brother happy.” He joked.

“I’ll get you that drink,” Shelia laughed as she slipped on a kimono robe hanging on the door then headed downstairs. Once she was gone Jermaine grinned and stretched his arms out wide then laid back comfortably with his hands behind his head feeling like the man. If only Andy could see him now. He looked around her tidy spacious bedroom thinking this was a big place for a single woman and pictured himself coming by afterschool for some good loving. But there was no way he would be able to spend the night because he had a curfew. He felt like having a cigarette, like the actors on his sister’s favorite soap opera All My Children did after they finished having sex, and assumed a classy lady like Shelia would have a pack of cigarettes lying around somewhere. He opened the draw in the nightstand and found a purple dildo, a half empty box of green Tic-Tacs and a TV Guide. He got up and snooped through the items on her dresser. Endless bottles of fancy perfumes, a jewelry box, hair pins, lotions, and countless other girly items but still, no cancer sticks. Then he noticed a photo album almost hidden beneath a pile of clothes and scrapped his idea of looking mature and sophisticated when he childishly thought to himself how cool it would be to have proof of his time spent with an older woman. Glancing around he began flipping through pictures of his attractive host looking for the right one to make his buddies green with envy. There were so many to choose from. Shelia in a mink coat, Shelia in a skimpy dress, Shelia in a bikini and Shelia in an outfit that made his heart accelerate!

“It’s against my better judgement supplying you with alcohol but I’ve already broken multiple laws…shit!” Shelia paused holding a bottle of Smirnoff and two glasses when she spotted Jermaine dressed and holding a picture of her and a man on their wedding day.

“Oh I’d say you’ve broken quite a bit of laws.” Jermaine said annoyed and realized that what he heard about older women was bullshit. They did play games.

“Crap, I thought I hid that in a better hiding place.” Shelia admitted and placed the glasses on the end table beside her bed then plopped down with a sigh. “That bit of bad news I mentioned earlier, my husband of ten years has been fucking his secretary.”

“Lady my name is Bennet and I ain’t in it. I think I should go.”

“I understand. It’s just I was lonely and upset. But you’re right I had no right to get you mixed up in my drama.”

“It’s ok, I guess.” Jermaine said feeling sorry for her as she wiped away tears. He sighed and against his better judgement asked. “So, what time does your husband come home after work?”

Shelia frowned. “He doesn’t. He goes straight to the gym after work.”

“Great, he works out.”

“Before he goes to his Karate class.”

“It gets better.” Jermaine sighed then went over and poured them both a glass of vodka and offered her one. She looked up and smiled accepting the drink. Forty minutes later and several more glasses accompanied by Shelia confessing how unhappy she was in her marriage, Jermaine noticed the time and stood on wobbly feet. “I gotta bounce.”

“Other commitments?”

“Yeah. Algebra.” Jermaine smiled.

Shelia laughed. “Thank you for being so nice.”

“No sweat. I’m just glad your husband didn’t bust us. Dude looks intense!” Jermaine said quickly sliding into his jacket.

“Like I said, no chance of that he’s not going to be home for hours.”

The sound of a key opening the front door called her a liar. “Yo! Babe you decent? I got the fellas with me.” Shelia and Jermaine traded horrified looks.

“What are we going to do?” Jermaine whispered nervously.

Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs and the door pushed open. A muscular man with chiseled features in his early forties entered and flicked on the lights. “Hey Shiels, you went shopping?” he asked holding the shopping bag containing the lingerie she never got around to wearing. “Hey what are you doing sitting in the dark? Didn’t you hear me?” he asked his wife who sat up in bed covering a phony yawn.

“Monty? You’re home early.”

“Yeah I’m in and out. I got Eddie and Titan downstairs waiting on me. We’re headed over to the dojo. I just stopped by to grab my gear.”

“Guess I dozed off, which is why I didn’t hear you.”

“And I can see why.” He said gesturing at the half empty bottle of Smirnoff on the table. “Titan’s pissed because I forgot my bag. I mean I love to fight but that guy is fucking obsessed with causing folks bodily harm! Man I tell you, size, crazy and martial arts do not mix well.” Monty laughed then leaned in for a kiss. As he pulled back he noticed something that didn’t make sense. And his brow tightened. “Um, babe?”

“Yes?”

“Why are there two glasses on the nightstand?”

“Two glasses?” his wife repeated nervously.

“Yes! One-two. Why would you need two glasses?” he demanded pointing at the glasses of vodka. Hiding inside the closet, Jermaine prayed that if he got out of this alive, he’d stick to hiding in the closets of girls his own age.

 “Yo Monty, are you rolling or what? I wanna kick some ass!” a hyper voice growled from downstairs.

“For fuck’s sake Titan! Give me a sec!” he shouted then spun back to his wife. “So, what’s going on Shiels? You got somebody in my house?”

“No Monty! I planned on surprising you when you got home!”

“Bullshit!”

“Open the bag Monty!” She instructed. Monty opened the A&S bag and removed the silky black lingerie. “I planned on surprising you with your favorite drink and me wearing something nice, but I dozed off. And before I can explain you’re accusing me of cheating, when we both know you are the last person to be doing that!” she said delivering an Oscar worthy performance.

“Fuuuuck!” Monty sighed and closed his eyes plopping down on the bed guilty. “Look babe I apologized a million times. I even got a new secretary that looks like Roseanne Barr. I bought you that expensive as hell Audi. And I agreed to go to marriage counseling. But you’re gonna have to meet me half way.” he said backing down.

“Says the hypocrite making ridiculous accusations!”

“Monty?” Titan called out again.

“Alright! Alright!” Monty hissed then looked at his wife. “You’re right. I have no right to be accusing you of anything when I’m the one who messed up everything. Look I can tell the fellas to leave and you and me can…” he ran a finger down her arm.

“No! Just go! I’m no longer in the mood!” Shelia hissed pulling away.

“Fine, I understand.” Monty sighed and headed for the closet.

“What are you doing?” Shelia asked worried.

“Don’t worry I’m leaving. I just gotta get my duffel bag with my gear out of the closet.

Jermaine spotted the bag on the floor that boasted “I LOVE KARATE!’ as the doorknob twisted. Shelia jumped up frantically. “I changed my mind! I want you to stay!”

Monty took one look at his nude wife and smiled confused. “Shiels, you sure?”

Shelia stared past him at the closet door and nodded. “Yes. I’m sure. I want to make love, now!”

“Well alright now!” He said and made an about face in a jovial mood. “You put this on and I’ll get rid of the guys.”

Shelia nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. Jermaine closed his eyes, whispered ‘thank you’ and got comfortable anticipating on staying put until Chuck Norris was done. Then the unthinkable happened. His sky pager loudly went off. He quickly silenced it forgetting he instructed Andy to page him in case he needed to make up an excuse to leave. If only he had done this sooner than later. Monty paused and eyed his wife suspiciously, then at the closet door and a look of rage washed over his face. He stormed towards the door as ‘Love Roller Coaster’ by Ohio Players, came on the stereo.

“Now Monty listen-” Shelia said rushing past and blocking his path as he shoved her to the side and snatched open the door to find a skinny kid hiding there.

“Son of a bitch! I fucking knew it! Fucking punk! C’mere!” he snarled and grabbed Jermaine by the collar. “You up in my house! Screwing my wife?” Monty pulled put a knife and placed it to the frightened teenager’s face. “I’m gonna pluck out your eyeball and wear it around my fucking neck if you don’t answer me!”

“Monty please!” Sheila pleaded.

“Shut up bitch! A goddamn kid? And as for you! I’m gonna-Argggh!” Monty said then moaned in pain as his eyes rolled up in his head when he received a sharp knee to the groin. He doubled over in agony and was aside by Jermaine who then bolted out the room. Downstairs he hit the brakes high on adrenaline when he saw two swollen men in the living room. One of them who was as big as a mountain was knocking out a set of push-ups.

“Who the hell are you?” Titan demanded as he rose from the floor.

“Shelia’s nephew!”

“What’s taking Monty so long?”

“Don’t know, but he asked me to go to the store. I’ll be right back!” a quick-thinking Jermaine said, then bolted out the door.

Moments later Monty came tearing down the stairs holding his groin and slipped down several steps. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Who?” Eddie asked.

“The kid that was just here!”

“You mean your nephew?”

“That piece of shit is not my nephew!”

 “Well that’s what he told us. But if he’s not your nephew then who the hell is he?” Titan demanded to know.

Monty paused then looked up at Shelia as she embarrassingly clutched her robe at the top of the stairs. “I caught the punk robbing my place!”

“What the fuck! That little guy?”

 “When I came in, he was attacking my wife! That’s when he kicked me in the balls and bolted.” he lied staring angrily at his wife.

 Titan gritted his teeth. “Son of a bitch! Hey Monty he couldn’t have gotten that far! I say let’s go catch that motherfucker! Jack him up!”

“Yeah boy! Stomp a mudhole in his ass! We’ll drop what’s left of him off at the hospital! Or the funeral parlor!” Eddie shouted hyping up the room as they charged out.  Before he left, Monty shot Shelia a death stare.

Jermaine tore down the barren streets of Brooklyn with three angry men in hot pursuit.  Normally the teenager would have easily dusted them but the effects of the Vodka in his system was slowing him down. Exhausted and slightly tipsy he figured he could lose them in Betsy Head park. As he approached the dark park with a darker reputation, he couldn’t help but notice the shiny candy apple red Ferrari F40 with a license plate that read CODE RED 2, brazenly parked at the entrance, almost as if it dared someone to mess with it. With no time to spare Jermaine flew through the open gate. But once he was in the open area, he realized he was in a dead end. He spun around and the angry men were standing in the entrance. Titan pulled the gate closed behind them. Jermaine tried to scale the fence but was too exhausted from being chased for several blocks and collapsed on the ground.

“You done fucked up now nigga! Walking through this park at night is about as safe as barebacking a five-dollar crack whore.” Monty said.

“Looks like I’m gonna get my work out on tonight one way or another!” Titan grinned cracking his knuckles stumbling forward.

“Titan what the hell? How many beers did you have before you got here?” Monty asked him.

“Two.” Titan replied.

“Make that twelve. You know he counts by the six pack.” Eddie said as Titan made his way towards the frightened teenager.

“Come on y’all. It ain’t gotta be like this. I’m sorry man!” Jermaine begged.

“Come on nothing! Your apology is worth about as much as a nickel covered in bird shit!” Monty hissed.

“When we’re through with you even your own momma won’t recognize you!” Eddie hissed.

“The bitch probably don’t recognize him now!” Titan laughed.

Upon hearing the men disrespect his mother suddenly Jermaine’s fear evaporated, “What’d you say?” he asked and balled up his fist, clenched his teeth and swung landing a clean punch across Titan’s steel jaw. The brave act barely moved the goliath and for his efforts he received an open-handed smack that put him on the ground leaving him feeling like he just got kicked in the chest by a mule.

“Lil’ nigga, I’m gonna knock you to Sunday and wait for you on Tuesday!” Titan said and reached his huge mits out and snatched the frightened struggling child to his feet.

‘Hip Hop was set out in the park. They used to do it out in the park.’ The volume on a boom-box lowered MC Shan rhyming and the sound of a match being struck was heard. Everyone searched for its source as the floating flame lit the end of a fat Philly blunt the glowed bright orange. “Seriously ya’ll, does it take this many guys to mug a teenager?” A deep voice full of base asked in the darkness. Everyone turned and noticed for the first time a large silhouette sitting on a nearby park bench beneath a bell shaped Kangol. The big man took a hit then emptied his Pink Champale with one huge loud gulp. With a belch he took one more hit from his blunt then placed it on the edge of the bench and rose exhaling a cloud of white smoke. “You busters are about as scary as a swarm of butterflies.” He said, then looked down at the obedient canine standing protectively at his side with its tongue hanging and tail wagging, anxiously awaiting the command to go off. “Major, sit this one out. I got this.” The pooch barked and sat steadfast.

“Who in the hell?” Titan asked as the man stepped into the light of the street lamps. Once he got a good look at who it was, he mouthed, ‘Fuck!’

Dressed in red from head to toe, the imposer sported a creased red Kangol bell hat, red satin Bulls jacket, a red Coogi sweater, red Shark skin pants and a box-fresh pair of red Clarks Wallabees. Even the band on his Casio G-Shock watch was beet red. “So, anybody care to tell me why three grown ass men are manhandling a defenseless kid in a park at night?”

“You a cop or something?” Monty demanded to know.

“Or something!” the crimson stranger retorted.

“Well who or whatever you are, it’s only fair to warn you that I’m a third-degree black belt in Karate close to obtaining my fourth degree. And my homies are also trained fighters. So, unless you want to trade places with this punk you’d best leave!” Monty warned.

“Ok, I accept.” The man in red shrugged like he thought it over and wasn’t worried in the least. He then boldly walked over with a confident stride like he hadn’t a care in the world as his huge dookie gold rope chain hypnotically swung back and forth.

“Excuse me?” Monty said.

“Your offer to trade places with the kid, I accept.”

“Yo Money, anybody ever told you that saying the phrase, ‘that ain’t got shit to do with me!’ has been proven to help you live longer?  

“Yeah, but what do they know. So, what’d the kid do to piss you off, beat you in a rousing game of skelly?” the man in red boldly said as he eyeballed Titan who released his grip on Jermaine and meekly took a step back.

“If you must know, I caught this little shit breaking and entering in my crib just as he was about to attack my wife!” Monty hissed not backing down.

The stranger in red shot Jermaine a disappointed look and took a step back. “Whoa-whoa! That’s not true!” Jermaine protested. “Well partially.” The teen admitted, and the man with the Kangol raised an eyebrow. “She came onto me at my job and invited me over to her crib. I didn’t even know she was married until he came home! So, I didn’t break in but technically, I did enter…your wife!”

The man in red snickered breaking his hard demeanor. “My bad for laughing ya’ll. But you gotta admit the kid’s quick on his toes.”

Monty’s crew looked to him for answers. “Fellas, hold up I know you don’t believe this little punk! He’s a god damn liar! Trust me.” Monty insisted.

“Trust you? What I look like? Look kid, what really went down? The truth.” the man in red asked taking control of the situation.

“I was hiding in the closet when I heard Blackie-Chan admit he and his secretary were knocking boots. Which is why I’m thinking his wife put the moves on me for payback!” Jermaine admitted, incensing Monty while getting strange looks from his buddies who all had covered for him at one time or another when he cheated on his wife. He lunged forward but was blocked and shoved back by the man dressed in red.

“Ease back motherfucker and let’s all calm the fuck down. We can go back to your place, talk to your wife and get to the bottom of all this.”

“We? Homeboy this ain’t got shit to do with you! Mind your business!”

“I’m making this my business!”

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“The name’s Havoc. I’m what you might call, a major attitude adjuster. Anything else you need to know about me ask your boy Titan. He knows exactly who the fuck I am! Don’t cha Mister Softee?” Havoc said piercing Titan with his gaze causing the giant hulk of a man to tremble. “Then again don’t bother…You’re all about to find out who the fuck I am, real quick!” Havoc promised cracking his knuckles.

Monty turned to his gigantic partner and noticed for the first time how the loud scary guy who was always eager to mix it up was noticeably quiet. Obviously, there was history between them but it didn’t matter. He’d seen enough people climb into the ring with his hulking friend only to be carried out moments later on a stretcher and wasn’t concerned in the least. “This guy’s selling wolf tickets. Go on over there and handle your business Titan!”

“Titan come over here and I’ll hit you so hard, words describing their impact will appear out of thin air!” Havoc promised.

“I know you ain’t gonna let this motherfucker say he’ll beat your ass like you’re on the Batman and Robin tv show?” Monty instigated.

With a loud gulp and his fists raised high and tight, Titan came forward with a clumsy swing. Havoc dipped out of harm’s way setting up his opponent tossing a jab, cross and hook. Then chronically assessing his environment and planning every coming step, Havoc continued the momentum from the missed hook, twisted around looking over his shoulder while exposing his back and followed through unleashing a bone crushing spinning back fist that Titan blindly charged into. Titan could actually see the words ‘KA-POW!’ hanging in the air as the well-executed, blink and you’ll miss it sequence of events toppled the bully like a sack of potatoes, knocking him out cold and staying true to the blueprint Havoc seemed to predict. 

“Yeah, that freight train that hit you, that was me!” Havoc boasted planting his thumb in his chest.

“Bloody hell!” Monty shouted dumbfounded. When he looked over at Havoc, he was retrieving his Champale and blunt from the bench.

“Oh, my bad. I figured after you saw that, you two’d smarten up. Guess not.” Havoc shrugged and placed it back down.

“There’s still two of us left asshole!” Monty barked glancing over at his nervous friend Eddie. Suddenly a bottle of Pink Champale came hurling through the air and crashed against Eddie’s skull and he was down on the floor clutching his head. Havoc and Monty turned to Jermaine standing there clutching the other bottle of beer itching for a reason to use it on Monty.

“Dude, you’re outta dudes.” The teenager said.

Monty opened his mouth and Havoc held up a hand to cut him off, “If I were you, I’d choose my next words carefully because you could quite possibly wind up in the back of an ambulance with an EMT telling you to hang in there!” Havoc warned. Monty glanced over at Jermaine. Then at his friends on the ground. He then ice-grilled the man responsible and executed a perfect spinning round house kick, but missed. Two seconds later he stood there full of regret as Havoc smiled, wiggled his eyebrows then tagged him with quick hands and lifted him with a mean uppercut. Once Monty joined his friends on the ground Havoc turned to Jermaine, “C’mon kid, I’ll give you a lift.” He said then patted his thigh and whistled. “Major, we out.” With a sharp bark, the puppy-dog scampered to his side and they left the park leaving Monty to pick up the mess.

Outside the park’s entrance Havoc aimed his car keys at the idle red Ferrari and it came to life. “Awwww snap! Yo this whip is like Hotimus Prime!” Jermaine said excitedly as Havoc opened the door of the flyy car he spotted when he was being chased into the park. As he slid into the flashy ride alongside the man who saved his life, he eyed the blinking dashboard and said, “Man if I had a ride like this, I’d be cold chilling with Sade by my side and a couple of soul train dancers.”

“Simmer down fly guy. Let’s not forget, you were almost cold chilling permanently, for messing with the honeys.” Havoc reminded him and they pulled off, as the jam ‘Casanova’ by R&B group, ‘LeVert’, blasted out the speakers. It was a quarter to ten when Havoc pulled up outside of the Howard Houses projects, where tens of thousands of people were packed together in dilapidated buildings. Although it was late the green benches were teaming with people. “Well here we are. You gonna be alright?” he asked Jermaine, noticing he was sitting there wide-eyed staring out into space.

“No, I’m good. Just reflecting on tonight’s events. Man, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t come along when you did.”

Havoc shrugged, “Don’t ruin a good day by thinking about a bad yesterday. Let it go.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’m safe. Plus, I’m home in one piece and before curfew.”

“See, you’re learning already. Positive vibes.” Havoc said encouragingly then muted the radio. “Look kid, far be it for me to lecture anyone on how to lead their life when it comes to the fairer sex, because Lord knows I’ve made my fair share of mistakes with them. That being said, you might wanna stick to girls your own age. Being older is a frame of mind. Maturity has no real age. Just be careful out in these streets. I might not be around the next time the husband of a woman you’re screwing and his buddies try to play tug of war with your neck and feet in a dark park at night.”

“Trust me I learned my lesson. Thanks for helping me out back there.”

“No problem.”

“Mister Havoc, can I ask you something?”

Havoc chuckled to himself. He heard a lot of words used before his name, but this was the first time someone used Mister. “Sure kid, what’s up?”

“Why’d you do it?

“What… help you out?”

Jermaine nodded. “Uh-huh. I mean most people would have looked away instead of looking out. Weren’t you afraid?”

“Kid, fear has two meanings. Forget Everything And Run, or Face Everything And Rise. The choice is yours. But if memory serves, you weren’t scared to square off on Titan.” Havoc dropped knowledge as the young man hung on to every word for dear life.

“Yeah but that’s cause he dissed my moms. Nobody disses my moms. Regardless who or how big they are!”

“See, face everything and rise. And who knows, maybe one day you can return the favor and look out for me if I’m ever in trouble.”

            “You got it! But man, I’d sure hate to go up against anybody who could give you trouble. The way you laid out that big dude like it was nothing, I bet you probably been in lots of fights huh?” Jermaine asked doing a poor job of hiding his obvious man crush.

            “Yeah, I’ve been in a coupl’a scraps, here and there. But nothing major.” Havoc winked at his puppy while downplaying the multiple life and death battles he’d been in all over Brooklyn as a Trouble Consultant. He glanced in the rearview mirror and something strange caught his eye.

            “Word? How many scraps?” the young man eagerly asked. Havoc didn’t answer him. He grabbed his rearview mirror and adjusted it for a better look. “You ok?” Jermaine asked.

             “What the hell!” Tommy rolled his window down and looked out then stuck his head back inside. “Did you see that?”

            “See what?” Jermaine asked darting his eyes all around at the dark vacant streets.

Havoc looked again. Whatever he thought he saw was gone. He shook his head at himself. “Nothing, I’m good. I must have Cheeched a little too much Chong. Cause I could’ve sworn, I saw a dude wearing some kind of black dog mask and a black trench coat in that alley across the street.” he chuckled when he heard how ridiculous he sounded.

            “Ooookay.” Jermaine said looking all around and didn’t see anything. “So how many scraps have you been in?”

            “That’s a story for another time.” Havoc said eyeing the clock on the dashboard.

“Really when?” the boy asked.

“You’re killing me kid. I dunno. Some other time.” Havoc shrugged wishing he had called Black Pearl car service to take Jermaine home, except the kid might have hopped out without paying. He immediately regretted his feeling when he saw the hurt look on Jermaine’s face. He sighed, “Look, I gotta bounce. Just, remember what I told you about the ladies, stay in school, don’t do drugs-”

            “You forgot look both way before I cross the street.”  Jermaine rolled his eyes.

“That too.” Havoc’s cellular phone buzzed. “Give me a sec. Sup…Wait-are you friggin’ serious? Dude how could you forget your keys...Fine I’m on my way now!” He turned off the phone pissed from the conversation. “Look kid-”

“My name’s Jermaine.”

“Ok Jermaine, there’s somewhere I gotta be ASAP. Take care of yourself. It’s been a real.” He said extending his hand.

            Jermaine sighed at his hand like he was used to getting the brush off then shook it and gave Major a scratch behind the ears before getting out. As Havoc’s car vanished into the night a husky young man under a tilted fuzzy Kangol approached munching on a McRib sandwich.

“Damn this McRib sandwich is crack! Make you wanna slap your momma!” the big-boned boy rocking a t-shirt with thugged-out Disney characters spray painted on the front, greeted between bites.

“Sup Gamble, what you up too?” Jermaine asked receiving a pound.

“Chilling. Just got back from Wall Street. Closing a deal.” Gamble said holding up a wad of cash.

“What you doing on Wall Street nigga?”

“I go there and stand around during lunch hour, make eye contact with them preppy ass white boys in suits and they follow me into a side alley to cop weed and coke. That’s where my nigga Big Mac be waiting to rob they bitch asses. He don’t even use a gun. They so shook when they see that big scary motherfucker come out the shadows, they just run they shit. Check it, got me a Rolex too. I think it’s fake though. But that’s what they get for assuming I’m a drug dealer cause I’m Black. Racist motherfuckers.”

“But you are a drug dealer.” Jermaine reminded him.

Gamble laughed. “Oh yeah. But they still shouldn’t be assuming that shit.  So, whose car was dat you got out of? It was fresh to death.” he asked.

Jermaine removed a shiny pair red Cazal frames from his pocket that he lifted from Havoc’s car. He stared at them with a sad doting look, “In a perfect world, my Dad’s.”

Chapter 2

            “So check it, last night I’m headed to the crib and po-po out in full force, harassing black folks outside my building, as usual. And one of them blocks my path and gonna ask me, where was I between five and six? I looked that pig dead in the eye and said ‘kindergarten, mother fucker!’” Laughter erupted as a thin black man with a hi-top fade in a puffy leather jacket and baggy jeans entertained a group of people lounging around having cigarettes, playing craps and sitting on milk crates outside of a lifeless building. One man in particular howling with laughter and flashing his gold teeth, threw his arms around the comedian and was playfully pushed back. “Dang TC you scuffed my Ewings! Why is it some Black people can never just laugh? We gotta hit folks, clap, fart, stomp and take off running.” He said using a toothbrush to clean the dirt from his sneaker.

            “Christ you’re dumb, Bug Out.” A large woman built like a linebacker said shaking her head with a pissed off smirk.

            “I’m dumb? I need to introduce you to this chick Trixie I met last week that invited me to the crib and said she just baked some synonym rolls. I said like the ones grammar used to make?” Bug Out laughed.

            “No, you’re dumb for forgetting the keys to the club your responsibility it is to open!”

            “Well yeah it sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

            “It would sound dumb if Einstein said it! You only got one job, man! Got us out here freezing our asses off! It’s colder than Eskimo pussy!”

            “Take a chill-pill Large Marge. Don’t nobody need to know what was on your menu last night. And I’ll have you know Vanna White only has one job. I have several. In fact, Karen, would you please tell She Hulk, that I do a helluva’ lot more than play Carlton your doorman around here.” He said to a well-dressed woman in business attire eyeing him, looking equally cold and pissed off.

            “How long did Tommy say it would take him to get here?” Karen asked rubbing her hands together for friction while ignoring his plea for back-up.

“Soon, but if it’ll make you all happy, I’ll call him back and ask.” Bug Out said checking the time on the blue stop watch around his neck.

            “No need Bug Out, here he is now,” an extremely muscular man pointed out as Havoc’s red Ferrari pulled up alongside the group. “Hey boss-man.”

            “What’s up Julius?” Havoc greeted reaching out his hand to shake that of his friend and employee. “Hey everyone sorry about the delay. Head on in and warm up with some coffee. I’ll meet you inside for a meeting.” he said then eyed his cousin sternly and handed him his personal set of keys.

            “Yo what’s up cuzzo? Just entertaining the troops until our fearless leader arrived.” Bug Out grinned awkwardly.

            “Save the syrup for your pancakes cousin.”

            “Whatchoo meeean?” Bug Out grinned.

            Tommy sighed. “Just take Major up to my crib. I already walked him so just make sure he’s got fresh food and water in his bowls. He might be a little stressed. We had a little action over in Brownsville tonight. But my dude held his own, didn’t you boy?” He cooed over his large but adorable reddish-brown Belgian Malinois puppy that could easily be mistaken for a German Shepard, then opened the car door so Major could step out. With a stretch and yawn, he trotted over to Bug-Out carrying his new blue chew toy in his jaws.

“So, this is what my life has come to? Playing Benson to your pooch?” Bug Out wise cracked.

            “Remind me again, who was it that forgot the keys I entrusted them with, which is part of their job, to open the club?”

            “Come on Dyno Mutt, seems your perfect master has never made a mistake before. Let’s see if we can rustle up some pork-fried rice and beer.”

            “Hey, don’t feed Major that mess.” Havoc said.

            “I was talking about me. I’m hungry.”

Havoc sighed at his favorite cousin’s foolishness then continued around the back of the building. Pressing a button on the automatic garage door controller, he patiently waited as a gate rose then he pulled inside beside a midnight black Ford Bronco. Once inside he lowered the gate then swapped his red attire for the black Le Coq Sportif velour running suit and Gucci sneakers in his trunk, then Thomas Oliver Strong entered a door that led to his nightclub.

            It wasn’t an easy transition from ridding neighborhoods of punks, pimps and pushers for a profit as a Trouble Consultant to the owner and operator of The Crimson Lounge, the hottest nightclub in Brooklyn but like anything he put his mind to, no matter the level of difficulty, he made it look easy.

The DJ was checking the sound system. The chef was going over the menu with her team. The bartenders and waitresses were setting up. Head bouncers Julius and newly hired Kathy, aka Big Kathy, who was hired for female security because this is Brooklyn after all, were going over security detail and where they’d be stationed for the night. Karen the club’s manager was walking around nervously checking and rechecking everything when their boss entered the room.

“Good evening everyone.” Tommy greeted with a smile as Karen motioned for a waitress to bring him a triple shot of Johnnie Walker black. He nodded thank you then turned to the attentive room. “Ok let’s get this staff meeting underway. If you have any questions or concerns please do so. And remember, it’s like I always say, the only dumb question is the one you don’t ask.” he said and nodded at Karen to take over.

The tall attractive Black woman smiled nodding back then stepped forward, all business. “Ok, as you all know-”

“Hold up wait, where’s Bug Out?” Tommy interrupted and Karen rolled her eyes frustrated.

On cue, the elevator doors parted and Bug Out strolled out reading the Daily News with a frown. “With all these recalls on food. I’ma start growing my own shit…Anybody know where a brotha could get some fried chicken seeds?” he said getting laughs.

“I swear you’re as annoying as biting into a mushy apple.” Big Kathy rolled her eyes.

“What’s that some sorta lesbian euphemism?” Bug Out asked receiving even more laughs.

Karen shook her head and let out a frustrated sigh, “Now that JJ’s here let’s proceed, shall we? As you all know tonight, we are proud to announce that Al. B Sure will be performing.” The waitresses traded giddy smiles and looks in anticipation of meeting the handsome R&B heartthrob. Big Kathy shrugged unimpressed. “It’s my understanding that he will be arriving around midnight and will perform two songs per our contractual agreement, Night and Day and Rescue Me.”

“And we have a confirmation on this?” Tommy inquired.  

“Well, I would have confirmed this myself but since your cousin was put in charge of follow up calls and securing the time slots for entertainment, I can only go by what he told me. Isn’t that right Bug Out...Bug Out?” she repeated snatching his attention from the Rolling Stones magazine he was engrossed in as he rapped to himself.

“I’m not a Puerto Rican but I’m speakin’ so that you know…Huh? Oh, my bad. Right yeah. What she said.” Bug Out said when he looked up and realized the room was staring at him then promptly closed his magazine.

“Only two songs?” Tommy scrunched his face turning back to Karen.

“Well it’s what his manager and I agreed upon when we first booked him. You know those celebrity types. It’s all about the art until they make it, then it’s all about them dead presidents. He wanted way too much for Al to perform more than two songs. And since we have a strict budget I fell back and didn’t press the issue. Sorry.” Karen said.

Tommy blew frustrated, “No, no you’re right we have a certain amount to spend on entertainment and can’t afford to go over it. At least not until we start turning a serious profit from this place. I’m just surprised is all. I don’t know the brother like that but he struck me as the type who would be down to show love and perform more than two frickin’ songs.” he said disappointed, knowing that a longer performance meant more people, more drinks being sold, and more money being made. Which, until he owned a club, he never was in short supply of.

“He’s not.” Bug Out said. “But then I spoke to him and smoothed things out. Easy peasy.” he shrugged and went back to flipping through his magazine.

“Meaning?” Karen asked.

“Meaning, I cracked a coupl’a jokes. We kicked it about this and that. And on the strength of love, peace and hair grease he agreed to perform his entire album for the original agreed price.” Bug Out said then grinned at Karen who frowned unable to hide her dislike for him.

“Word, the entire album? Nice job. He wasn’t making any crazy demands was he?”

            “Not at all in fact he’s mad cool. He just wanted some Heinekens and a couple bottles of Hennessy in his dressing room. But shit who don’t?”

“Good job Bug Out. It appears you are good for something after all.” Karen said sarcastically before continuing.

“What can I say? Some days I amaze myself. Other days, I look for my keys while I’m holding them.” Bug Out smiled.

“That part, I can believe.” Karen rolled her eyes before continuing. “So, needless to say tonight is going to be a lot of fun but an extremely hectic night. I’m going to need everyone at their best. Griffin, I need you to work it out with the other bartenders concerning fifteen-minute breaks. Ladies remain professional. Remember, you’re waitresses first, fans second. Julius, I want to thank you on how you and your security team handled that situation last night.”

“Situation?” Tommy asked.

“It was nothing boss. A local drug dealer named Money Baggz and his crew rolled up in here and tried to cause problems. So, after we informed them about our strict no drug dealers allowed rule we politely ‘escorted’ them off the premises.” Julius informed using air quotes to say without saying that he and his crew tossed them out on their low life asses.

“Ok cool. Just keep an eye out in case they show up again. I don’t need the headaches.” Tommy said.

“Honestly Boss they’re not who I’m worried about. It’s Pick and Pocket we need to be on the lookout for.”

“Who?”

“A couple of professional thieves who have sticky fingers. I got a buddy who bounces at Harlem World and he said they got them on camera walking out with more than half the customers wallets and jewelry. I swear, Black people hate a thief. But love buying stolen shit!” Julius hissed.

“Man please! Everything in your crib was bought from a crackhead. From the tv to the can opener.” Bug Out said and everybody including Julius, had to laugh.

Tommy didn’t share their humor. He despised thieves. “I got some ideas on how we might be able to catch them. We’ll talk later.” He said and the bouncer nodded with a confident smile. Tommy cleared his throat, “Big Kathy I’m gonna need you on high alert. Are you gonna be able to handle the extra influx of crazed female fans? Some of them can be a tad bit disrespectful.”

“Tommy, I’m a six-foot black woman who smokes a cigar, and smells like whisky. I get a lotta stares but no disrespect!” The rough looking woman bragged flashing a gold toothed smile at her boss and fist bumped a fellow bouncer.

“Scared of you. A-yo, DJ Fresh Gordon! How we sounding?” Tommy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over to the flashy dressed DJ dripping in gold chains on stage behind the magnificent dual turntable set-up, flanked by ridiculously tall speakers. Fresh gave him the thumbs up then the magic happened, ‘You just look in the sky, look in the tree, who do you see? Starski! A little Baw-ba-ba-baw ba-dang-a-dang-a Diggy-diggy’ was the first jam to spin, then he blended Eric B and Rakim’s ‘Microphone Fiend’, mixed in a precise rhythmic splash of RUN DMC’s ‘Mary-Mary, Why ya bugging?’, a dose of Slick Rick and Doug E Fresh’ La Di-Da-Di and ended with his signature transformer chirp and stab scratch then jumped in a B-boy pose. “DJ Jazzy Jeff would be jealous!” Tommy said pumping his fist and nodding his approval. He then turned to his head chef who earned her stripes after graduating from culinary school then working for five years at Sylvia’s in Harlem. “Beverly talk to me. What we got going on in your kitchen tonight dah-ling?”

The wide nosed plump light skinned woman with a wide gap between her front teeth brought over a steaming plate of what looked like a combination of fried chicken and sushi. “Try dis ere’. Something I’ve been working on all week. I call it Dynamite Sushi. My secret ingredient is crumbled scrapple mixed into the chicken batter for flavor.” She said in a subtle Bajan accent.

“Scrapple? Ain’t that the part of the pig that isn’t good enough to go into sausage?” Tommy asked.

“Just try it.” Beverly insisted.

Tommy scrunched up his face then eyed her as he took a bite. “Damn! It’s like a little bite of heaven. Now this is why the competition who’s scraping slugs off of the side walk during the day and selling it as S cargo at night, can’t hang.” he said smacking his lips while putting a proud smile on her face.

“I got something to go with your meal, sir.” Griffin, the head bartender said and presented Tommy a drink with a tiny umbrella.

“What’s in it?” Tommy asked.

“Rum.”

“What else?”

“A tiny umbrella.” Griffin said.

Tommy handed it back. “What else you got?”

“Glad you asked.” Griffin excitedly said and handed him another glass with two scoops of ice cream floating on the top and a tiny umbrella. His boss raised a, ‘fuck is this?’ eyebrow at him and the concoction. “Got some Bailey’s liqueur in there mixed in a smidge of Kahlua, a splash of cognac and a double scoop of toasted almond ice cream. What do you think?”

Realizing the glass of rum was just part of Griffin’s sales pitch, Tommy sipped and nodded giving him a fist bump. “That’s tasty. Replace the tiny umbrella with a Krazy straw, top it off with some whipped cream and a cherry then add it to the drink menu. We’ll call it a grown ass milkshake.” He stood up and faced his staff. “Good meeting everyone. Well, seems we all know what we have to do tonight. I wanna thank you all in advance for the outstanding job that you’ll do tonight and with that said, I’m gonna head upstairs. See you in a few. Yo Bug Out, a moment of your time?” He said and motioned for his cousin then walked toward the elevator Bug Out exited from earlier.

“Lemme start off by saying good job getting Al to give us a mini concert.”

The rail thin black man blushed at his younger but wiser cousin’s praise and patted his boxed Cameo hairstyle. “No problem. It’s what I do. Oh, and about the keys-”

            “It happened. Let’s move on. But if you wanna make it up to me, what you could do is try and get along with Karen.”

            “Whatchoo meeean? Karen and I get along.” Bug Out smirked. Tommy looked at him like he was crazy. Bug Out sighed rolling his eyes and eyed Karen across the room struggling to keep up as the DJ tried to show her the latest dance moves. “Man, I dunno about that. I can’t like her any more than I already don’t.”

            “This isn’t a request.” Tommy said.

“C’mon cuzzo, Karen expects you to know things via osmosis and then screams at you when you don’t know what the hell she’s thinking. Picture an intense hawk, waiting for you to fuck up and wind up on your back so she can feast on your guts. She’s not the easiest person to work with.”

            “And you are? It’s not a good look to be flipping through a magazine during a staff meeting.”

            “It is when I’m on the hunt for our next performer and I think I found him.” He said holding up his Rolling Stones magazine to an article he was reading.

            “Twisted Sister sells out the garden. Never heard of her.” Tommy shrugged.       

“It’s a him and that’s not who I was talking about.” Bug Out smirked pointing to an interview headlining rapper Special ED. “Says here mister ‘I Got It Made’ is about to go on a worldwide tour in a month.”

            “Ok and?”

            “And, I had an epiphany. Whatever that is. That he might wanna work the kinks out in his act in front of a live audience before touring. I bet my number one mint condition Black Panther comic book he’d do it here next to nothing. Win-win.”

            Tommy scratched his chin, “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Can you make it happen?”

            “Do black people yell at movie screens? C’mon cuzzo you know my steez. I got you.”

            “Ok-Ok. I see putting you on the payroll wasn’t such a bad idea after all.” Tommy grinned.

            “You know, another good idea would be to give me an actual title and some more responsibilities besides, sweeping, unlocking doors and follow up calls. Jus sayin.” Bug Out pressed. He felt like everyone was side-eyeing and talking about him for having gotten his made-up job through nepotism. Especially Karen.

            “Simmer down, Barely Gordy. Just because you got Al B Sure to break his rules, it doesn’t mean I’m ready to give you the keys to Motown. And speaking of keys, give me back mines!” Tommy said holding out his palm.

            “Fine but if I’m stolen away by a rival club remember you could’ve prevented it.” Bug Out said returning his keys.

Tommy tossed an arm around his cousin’s shoulder, “Cousin you’re not the guy people steal. You’re the guy they leave on a doorstep, ring the doorbell and run away.”

“Womp, womp!” Bug Out retorted and checked his ringing pager with a grin. “Ah yeah!”

“Who’s that Paula Abdul?” Tommy joked.

“I wish. Nah this red-bone chick Latoya is throwing up the bat-signal. Wants me to come through. You think maybe I could get a Ferris Bueller’s day off so I can, run over, pop in an Isley Brothers cassette, and let the good times roll?” Bug Out asked.

Tommy twitched his lips like he wasn’t going for it. He pressed the button on the elevator and boarded it. “Make yourself useful and assist Karen with whatever she needs. I’m gonna head up and do my thing. Call me when Al B gets here.” Once inside he keyed the elevator then rode it to the second floor. When the doors parted, he stepped off into his private gymnasium, stripped down to a BVD wife beater, threw on a pair of ratty sweat pants, switched on his stereo and blasted the Detroit Spinners ‘Rubberband Man.’ He then slid under a set of barbells and tossed the heavy plates of steel into the air for several sets. Next, he strengthened the power and speed in his punches by chopping the air and swinging hooks and combinations with barbells in his hands as he shadowboxed. Afterwards he challenged himself by juggling a hacky sack bean bag, kicking it into the air and keeping it off the ground to the drum solo of ‘Can’ by the krautrock band, Vitamin C. Once he was done, he skipped rope and ran the treadmill while holding a forty-five-pound steel plate over his head until his legs ached, then got down and did countless sets of sit ups and pushups clapping his hands in between, never counting how many he did. When most would have either passed out, thrown up or tossed in the towel, he soldiered on hitting the speed bag with blurred combinations, splitting the worn duct tape that had been repeatedly wrapped around his punching bag, with his sharp fists, shoulders and knees. After a quick water break, he went over to a sled stacked with over a thousand pounds of weights, squatted and lifting with his knees while grunting like a Viking quarter back, pushed it across the room like he was in football training camp. To keep himself pumped he repeatedly growled, “Brooklyn born! Brooklyn bred!” Finally exhausted to the point he could no longer continue, he entered the elevator, this time taking it to the third floor. Penthouse suite.

When Tommy decided to open The Crimson Lounge after a while, he realized it was pointless driving all the way to the other side of Brooklyn every night to a home he was barely at, only to drive back the very next day. Especially when the building the nightclub operated in was once a sweatshop and had two spacious floors upstairs that weren’t being used. So, he broke his lease and decided to turn the second floor into a gym and move into the top floor. Calling in on some favors from a couple of past clients of Havoc’s that owned businesses in building restoration and furniture sales, the once dusty five thousand square-foot space was converted into a gorgeous three-bedroom penthouse he could access either through an elevator or if he wanted to get some cardio in, a seemingly endless flight of stairs, both private. The place was stunning with its glossy wooden floors, restored marble columns and freshly painted walls. It was decorated with stylish furniture, throw rugs, oil paintings of naked black women with Afros posing with various big cars and pine bookshelves that were teaming with various works from Donald Goines to Malcolm X, with an entire shelf dedicated to Egyptian history and philosophy. In one area of his living room he had an arcade boxing game, a pool table. His entertainment center was complete with a large floor model TV, VCR, laserdisc player, a pricey stereo, with one turn table for playing his vinyl records, an equalizer, dual cassette tape deck and a huge pair of floor sized speakers sitting on either side in the corner of the living room. A set of double glass doors in the living room opened out to a comfortably sized balcony with attractive outdoor furniture and the best view of the Brooklyn Bridge his borough had to offer, day or night.

Feeling dehydrated, Tommy filled a glass with water from the kitchen sink then went over to the two answering machines with separate lines as Major tagged behind carrying his new chew toy. Both machines were blinking. As always, he checked his personal machine first then got comfortable on the couch as Major plopped down at his feet and munched on his bone.

‘You’ve reached Tommy Strong. Make it count…Beep,’

‘Yo Cuzzo! What has a tiny dick and hangs down? A bat! What has a big dick and hangs up?’ CLICK! Tommy shook his head at his cousin Bug Out’s foolishness. The next message came on.

Beep ‘Tommy as you go about living your life in the city that never sleeps, think about your poor mother who also never sleeps. Because her son never calls-’

‘Christ Carla, not even two seconds in and you’re already putting Tommy on a guilt trip! Give the boy a chance to miss you.’

Tommy sipped his water and shook his head at his parents’ antics.

‘Well I wouldn’t if he’d return my calls, now would I? And according to the time, Robert Smitty Strong don’t you have somewhere to be?’

‘Oh Lord my wife is full naming me. Lemme go before your Mama’s cauldron boils over and singes my feet. Son, I’ll spank you at Chess tomorrow.’

‘I swear your father’s gonna drive me insane. Anyway, Tommy I was at choir rehearsal today and had the nicest conversation with the loveliest young lady named Priscilla Ashby. She’s around your age. And she works as a librarian. And here’s the best part. The two of you have something in common. You’re both animal lovers. She has three cats and-’

‘A-ha! You’re stone cold Busted! Woman, my son does not need you hooking him up with those tired, boring, old stick in the mud, sanctified biddies on the single sisters bulletin board from your Church!’

‘I thought you were leaving to go to work!’

‘I was. Good thing I forgot my reading glasses and cigars or I wouldn’t have been able to stop you from meddling in my son’s life!’

Tommy shook his head as he emptied a Philly Blunt, filled it with marijuana then rolled and licked it.

‘And how’s our son supposed to kick his nasty smoking habit if his father won’t set an example and do the same?’

‘Woman, there’s a big difference between a nice Cuban and a stale Newport. Besides, Rome wasn’t built in a day. And if we’re going to kick bad habits then you need to stop trying to run my son’s life.’

“You tell her Pop.” Tommy laughed as he sparked up the blunt and smoked.

‘He’s my son too and it’s high time he settled down with a nice respectable girl!’

‘Girl? Priscilla looks and acts older than me! Hell even her name smells like Ben-Gay.’

‘Mommy what are you and Daddy arguing about now?’

‘Nobody’s arguing Tee-Tee. We’re talking with emotion. Now help Daddy find his glasses.’

‘Who are you on the phone with? Is it Tommy? I wanna talk to him.’

‘Your brother’s not home. I’m trying to leave him a message. That’s if your father would let me!’

‘Don’t even try it Carla. Baby girl your mother is trying to set your brother up with another one of her ol’ fuddy-duddy friends from Church. Seriously I just had my glasses…’

‘Who is it this time?’

‘Priscilla Ashby.’

‘The nice fat lady who always has cat hair on her choir robe?’

“Eww,” Tommy twisted his face at the answering machine.

‘Tee Tee, Pricilla isn’t fat! She’s big-boneded. And a lint brush will take care of that cat hair situation.’

‘Are you listening to this son? Is it as funny to you as it is to me?’ Smitty asked finding the whole thing hysterical.

“I am Pop, and it is.” Tommy snickered.

‘What’s funny is watching you walking around here looking for your glasses and they’re hanging from your shirt.’

‘Dammit woman why you got me looking crazy?’

‘I don’t have you looking crazy. You did that all by yourself! Tommy I’m hanging up. It’s almost time for LA Law to come on and you know how your momma loves her some Blair Underwood. That man is easy like Sunday morning. We’ll talk when you visit tomorrow…Beep!’

“I’m gonna need therapy after that.” Tommy muttered aloud grabbing a hold of the chew toy and playing tug of war with Major. There was another message and he prayed it was the one he was hoping for every night he came home.

‘Beep...Hello Mister Strong this is Eboni Sinclair, Ms. Campbell’s personal assistant.’ He perked up and released the bone listening as if his life depended on whatever it was the overly professional sounding woman had to say. ‘Ms. Campbell instructed me to call you and tell you that she’d appreciate it if you would please stop calling her place of business. She also wants you to know that she’s received all of the stuffed teddy bears, messages, boxes of Godiva chocolates and roses you’ve sent and would like you to stop sending these things immediately.’

“Well I wouldn’t if she’d return my calls now would I?” he argued with the condescending voice then realized he sounded like his mother. Major looked up. “Not one word.” Tommy said to his pup who barked a reply then went back to gnawing on his chew toy.

‘If and when…Huh...What...Oh sorry ok…If or when Ms. Campbell wishes to correspond with you, she will at a time of her own choosing and not before. Thank you and take care. Beep!’

Tommy sighed annoyed. He was ninety-nine-point nine percent certain that he heard Donnie in the background coaching that robot sounding bitch! “You heard her too huh boy?” he asked Major who wagged his tail cluelessly. He checked his business line, ‘This is Havoc, leave a message and I’ll return your call at my earliest convenience…Beep.’

‘Beep…imagine coming home, getting in bed with your wife, you tell her a joke and the guy under the bed starts laughing too! Yo Havoc I want to hire you to beat the breaks off this motherfu-’

“Money, you don’t need a Trouble Consultant. You need a divorce lawyer.” Tommy shook his head, hit erase then proceeded to the next message.

‘Beep… Hello? My name is Shay Parker, and long story short, last year a fly girl summer, lead to a pregnant girl fall and a single mother spring. Seasons have changed but my dead-beat baby daddy Silas hasn’t. He still won’t step up to the plate and help me out with his son cause he scared to tell his wife. Can you make him?’ After mulling over to the sobbing cry for help, Tommy saved it then forwarded to the next message.

‘Beep…Good evening, my name is Clara Purdy and I’m being terrorized by my landlord. He wants me to move out of my apartment so he can sell the building but I have nowhere to go. He’s taken me to court twice saying I haven’t paid my rent but I proved I did. Now he shows up at my door at obscene hours with a big scary man making threats. I tried to go to the police but they can’t do anything because it’s his word against mines. Everyone else has moved out. I’m an old woman, all alone and I have no one to help me. Please call me at 718-Beep.’

“I got your back Miss Purdy,” Tommy promised. He’d replay the message and get her number later so he could look into her story. But right now, he needed a shower and at least forty-five minutes of uninterrupted sleep. After a hot therapeutic shower, he flossed his perfect teeth with a waterpik, rubbed some cocoa butter into his almond skin, grabbed an orange can of Murray’s hair pomade off the sink and applied a small amount to his scalp then meticulously brushed it into his hair until his dark wavy locks spun into a hypnotic 360 degree pattern. “Damn, I’d do me.” He concededly smiled at his reflection with a thick arched eyebrow satisfied with the results. He then ran the excess hair grease on his hands through his short neatly groomed beard then tied a doo rag on his head but not so tight that he’d cut off the circulation and wind up with a red mark on his forehead. As his waves baked, he went into his closet and took out a few pricey garments, some with the price tag still on them, and laid them out over his black Italian leather couch. Choosing a one of a kind fly black Dapper Dan double breasted suit, he lined up several pairs of shoes in a row and stood behind each pair holding up his suit.

“What do you think boy? The gators or the Gucci’s?” he asked Major who was dragging his butt across his expensive throw rug. The pup barked approvingly at the Gators. “Yeah I was thinking the same thing too.” He said deciding on a pair of expensive Italian Alligator shoes that complimented his outfit.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. Why not toss everything into a suitcase and go out to Los Angeles? If he left now, he could catch the red-eye and be outside Donnie’s job by tomorrow morning. Karen could handle things at the club for a day or two. He just hoped Miss Purdy would be ok until he got back. Yeah, it sounded crazy and impulsive. But that was his personality. He poured himself a drink of Scotch and laid his head back. He had some serious decisions to make within an hour.

Although Donnie had not been in Los Angeles that long she was already fitting in as if she’d lived there her whole life. Granted, the promotion to Senior Contract Specialist was a bit challenging. There were times she felt so overwhelmed that she found herself in the mirror giving herself the ‘you got this Gurl,’ pep talk in the mornings, and she did have it. Her only real issue was she missed her bestie Pumpkin so much a chunk of her new salary was spent on her phone bill.  She even found herself missing the attitude of New Yorkers where people say ‘You’re welcome!’ to remind other people to say thank you. But on the flip-side she was making new friends every day and the weather was always sunny, warm, and just perfect. Another plus about living in LA was being able to merge two of her passions. Jogging and spotting celebrities which she was able to do in Runyon Canyon Park.

Located just two blocks from world-famous Hollywood Boulevard, the park was well known for its frequent celebrity sightings. Last week she found herself keeping up with and then passing Mario Van Peebles who gave her a high-five at the end of the trail. The week before she spotted actor Taimak and got his autograph after telling him how much she loved his movie The Last Dragon. That was a good day. Today she was making eye contact with a shirtless Blair Underwood in Ocean Pacific jogging pants. The handsome LA Law actor flashed a pearly white smile and asked her if she knew where he could find the Clouds Rest trail.

Donnie blushed and meekly said, “Yes, just head around the east ridge over there, where you’ll find a set of steps leading to it. But careful, it’s pretty hardcore what with the gravel and steep hills.”

“Oh, so you don’t think I can handle it?” Blair smiled raising an eyebrow and shamelessly showed off, flexing his pecs.

‘Am I imagining things or is Blair Underwood flirting with me?’ Donnie asked herself. ‘Pumpkin’s gonna die when I tell her!’ “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just figured you didn’t take any unnecessary risks with your career and all, Mister Hollywood superstar.” She explained wishing she had worn her new pink Reebok jogging pants with the matching sports bra instead her red Puma track suit because it did a better job of showing off her toned stomach and rock-hard abs.

“I see. Well how’s this for taking a necessary risk, if you’re not doing anything at the moment care to accompany me for a quick run through Clouds Rest, then perhaps grab a bite to eat? I know a great little spot off of Mulholland Drive that makes the best burritos.”

“As long as they have a low-calorie menu. Gotta watch what I eat.” She winked then bent over and grabbed her calves for a stretch. Her turn to show off.

“Beautiful and healthy. I think I’m in love.” He winked eyeing her ass-sets. “So, is it a date?”

Donnie opened her mouth to say ‘Hell yes!’ when a deep familiar voice said. “A-yo Blair remember that scene from Krush Groove where Bow Legged Lou kicked your ass? Wanna see it become a reality?”

They both turned to see Tommy standing there overly dressed for California weather.

“Um perhaps another time?” Blair asked nervously.

“Perhaps you keep it moving pretty boy!” Tommy replied sharply and the actor got the hint and jogged off.

“I don’t believe this! Tommy what the hell? Didn’t my assistant leave you a message?” Donnie asked visibly upset.

“Who do you think told me where to find you?”

“I know you didn’t threaten Eboni...did you?”

“No babe of course not. I’d never. I did however stress to her how she was contributing to keeping two people meant to be together apart by withholding information.”

“Did you also tell her that you were the one responsible for us being apart?”

“I might have left a few things regarding our situation on the cutting room floor.”

Donnie shook her head annoyed. “Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“No, I actually don’t. Last we spoke you were the one who ended things between us.”

“Yeah but I was wrong. I thought I couldn’t have both.”

“No that you were right about.”

“But I can, see. I no longer take consulting gigs for a fee.”

“So you quit being Havoc?” she asked hopeful and grabbed him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh baby I knew you’d come to your senses!”

“Um babe,” he said nervously.

“I’ve kept tabs on you. I know the club is doing well. I even scouted out potential locations here that you could expand to. Just in case you woke up.”

“Sweetie...”

“And you finally did! Tommy I’m so happy.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” Tommy said. Donnie released him and looked into his eyes bracing herself. “I was saying I no longer take consulting gigs for a fee.”

“So, you flew all the way here just to tell me that you no longer take money to risk your life. Now you do it for free?” she said frustratedly.

“No! Well I mean kinda’. But I don’t do it on the regular, it all depends on the job. Like for instance I just helped an elderly woman who was being abused by her scumbag nephews that were shaking her down for money. And then there was this kid in the park-”

“Dammit Tommy, I don’t care! Not anymore.” Donnie shouted to the top of her lungs.

“I also flew all the way here to tell you that I love you.”

“Don’t you know it’s bad manners to say ‘I love you’, with a mouth full of lies?”

“Why would you say I’m lying?”

“Because your lips are moving!” she said and turned to walk away. Tommy tried to grab her arm but she snatched herself away from him. “Don’t touch me! You just want to have your cake and eat it too. Well wrong bakery! I’m not doing this again!”

“So, it’s a no on coming back with me to New York?”

“Fool me once… I have a life here… And you-” she was interrupted by his cellular phone. She shook her head in disbelief. “…have yours, there!” the phone continued ringing and Tommy didn’t know what to do. “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?”

“No. I’d rather talk to you.” Tommy said.

“I insist! Answer it.”

Tommy sighed and removed the phone from his hip. “Yeah?”

“Hey it’s me. You said for me to call you when AL B Sure got here.” Bug Out informed.

Tommy glanced over at Donnie then did a double look when he saw she was being consoled by his ex-wife Nicky. His ex-wife glared at him, “Didn’t you learn anything from our relationship Tommy? Be careful who you push away…some of us don’t come back!”

“What the hell! Pop?” he exclaimed when his father startled him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“You threw away another good woman son. But it’s not your, fault. It’s in your blood…Havoc.” His father informed him.

 “Yo’ cousin? You there? Wake up!”

Tommy’s eyes popped open and he sat up on his couch. “Yo Tommy wake up! Wake up! Wake Up!!” his cousin’s voice called from the answering machine. He reached over yawning and grabbed the phone. “Yeah, sup…Ok, thanks. I’ll be down in a sec.” After he hung-up he noticed he was drinking from the bottle of Johnnie Walker RED. Havoc’s drink. He sighed and got dressed.

Tommy stood in his private elevator dressed dapper, puffing on a roach that was dangerously close to burning his fingertips. Once it was gone, he removed a small vial of Cool Water from his pocket and worked it into his face neck and shirt. Through the closed doors he could hear the muffled sounds of voices, music and partying blended into one loud fantastic sound.

When the doors parted, he was hit with a huge blast of hip hop as Eric B. For President bounced off the walls and stood before a wall of faceless bodies. Between mixing and scratching the DJ beckoned the crowd to, ‘Brooklyn make some noise!’ The club was so packed Julius had to assign one of his bouncers to stand there and direct traffic keeping the area clear so Tommy could exit freely without bumping into someone.

An attractive and well-endowed young lady at the bar in a barely there little black dress with plunging neckline that left little to the imagination, blocked Tommy’s path. Catching a glimpse of his tattoo peeking from the bottom of his short-sleeved shirt while rubbing her finger between her bosom she asked,

“You wanna show me your tattoo and I’ll show you mines? Tit for tat?” she flirted.

“I don’t see any tattoos.” Tommy said eyeing her arms devoid of ink.

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Cause I’m not naked.”

“Tempting, but I’m good.” Tommy flashed a pearly white smile trying his darndest not to mix business with pleasure.

DJ Fresh Gordon spotted his boss in yet and played his theme song, ‘Girls I Got ‘em Locked’ by Queens duo Super Lover Cee and Casanova Rud and the place went wild “There he is ladies, the brother with LL Cool J’s physique, Big Daddy Kane’s swagger and KRS One’s mindset! Come on over boss man and say a few words to the party people.” The DJ said as the bartender slid a double shot of Johnny Walker Black into Tommy’s hand with perfect timing.

“Pardon me.” Tommy said after emptying the glass with one gulp. He winked at the young lady and turned to leave.

“Wait a sec, Hercules.” She said placing a card in his breast pocket while using the opportunity to feel his marble-like, chest. “Here’s my digits. You’ll thank me later. You’re welcome in advance.” She boldly said then fanned herself watching him walk away.

Tommy moved through the crowd then came over and humbly took the microphone while waving at the sea of party goers. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. How’s everybody doing tonight? You could have chosen to be anywhere else in the world but you’re here with me. And I wanna say, thank you. We have a special guest performing later on this evening, Mister AL B. Sure is in the building! So everyone eat, drink and party like it’s 1999!” He said in true gentleman fashion over the roar of the crowd. Then the ladies’ man and guys’ guy moved through the packed house with purpose, receiving hugs and handshakes. Occasionally he’d stop before random smiling women dancing alone for a quick two-step before sliding off. In the VIP section, celebrity boxer Mark Breland waved him over and after a brief chat, photo op with Jamie Foster Brown of Sister 2 Sister magazine and a promise to the champ they’d get together and spar in the ring soon, he kept it moving. Continuing on, he came upon a young couple making out hot and heavy in a corner and tapped the young man on the shoulder, as his hand steadily moved up her thigh. “Say brother-man, I’m all for Black love but this is not where you want to conceive your kid. Respect your lady.” After jokingly getting the message across that his club wasn’t a hotel, Tommy approached a couple of angry looking, burly bouncers guarding a door. “Fellas easy on the mean mugging. You ain’t palace guards. It’s ok to smile.” He said getting them to drop their hard stare with friendly fist bumps, then entered the door that said ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONELL ONLY’.

‘Ice cream! Ice cream! The Ice cream man is coming! The Ice cream man is coming! Ma! -Ma! Throw down some money! The Ice cream man is coming!’

When Tommy entered the cramped room, it was packed with festive people standing around smoking weed, drinking and laughing hysterically at Eddie Murphy’s Delirious VHS tape projecting on the far wall.

“A-yo Cuzzo, help! I need some assistance.” Bug-Out loudly called out motioning him over. He was sitting on the arm of a black leather sofa grinning from ear to ear, laughing and chatting it up with Al B Sure and a couple of beautiful young ladies who were sipping grown ass milkshakes. “We got a little wager going on. And you can help me settle this dispute right quick. This beautiful but sadly misinformed young lady said Brooklyn is on Long Island. Now you know the borough that’s thorough better than anybody in the room. Please school her. But be gentle.”

Tommy nodded in the young lady’s direction with a smile then sighed, “We clearly see who failed geography in school.”

“Ha! See. What I told you? Pay up!” Bug Out boasted.

“And that would be you, cousin.” Tommy said hating to break the bad news to him in a room full of strangers.

“Ha! What I told you? Pay up!” the attractive stylishly dressed woman, snapped back receiving laughs and a hi-five from her girlfriends.

“Brooklyn may be considered part of New York City but geographically it’s actually located on Long Island and is made up of four counties. Queens County. Nassau County. Suffolk County. And Kings County. Which you should know since we both were born in that hospital.” Tommy broke it down.

“Man, we supposed to be family. Whose side are you on?” Bug Out laughed, able to admit when he was wrong, as he handed her a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

“The map’s.” Tommy shrugged.

“Umm-I love a man who’s up on his geography. I’m Sandy, Al’s stylist.” Sandy said biting her bottom lip. Bug-Out shook his head as his handsome cousin won her over with his dazzling smile and sculpted physique without even trying.

“The pleasure’s all mine. But I can’t take all the credit. My sixth-grade teacher Mrs. Williams from P.S. 306, deserves partial.” Tommy smiled then turned to the curly haired light complexioned superstar singer and greeted him with a warm hug and pat on the back. “Tommy Strong. Good to meet you brother.”

“Likewise, and trust me brother I know who you are.” Al B Sure said smiling in a way that could be interpreted he was referring to Tommy’s alter ego Havoc. “Your cousin Bug-Out had me in stitches. He’s mad funny. And knows his shit about upcoming artists.”

“That he is. And that he does. So Al, ready to do your thing? The show is sold out. And it’s a madhouse out there. But everything is under control.”

“Always.” The curly headed crooner said confidently.

“Then let’s do this…”

Karen Jeffries was always coming up with new and ingenious ways to promote the Crimson Lounge. Ladies Night, Mike Tyson fight parties, two free drinks if it was your birthday and whatever else she could think up in her creative mind that never seemed to shut off. She got her start in the game when her shy, best friend since the second grade, Frances Pigford, was having her sweet sixteen birthday party and nobody at St. Joseph’s High School cared. So, she set out to rectify that. Once Karen discovered that the majority of the bright and flashy flyers Francis made herself was littering the playground, she came home, turned on the radio and put on her thinking cap. She came up with a dope idea. Jermaine Jackson was being interviewed on a local station because he was in town promoting his solo career and his mega hit, ‘Daddy’s Home.’ Standing in line with millions of other screaming girls, she camped outside the hotel of the most desired member of the Jackson Five. When he came out, she bum-rushed him while cameras were rolling, begging him on her hands and knees to come to her best friend’s birthday party. Jermaine helped her to her knees and graciously accepted her invite. When word got out that Jermaine Jackson was attending her party it became the most talked about topic at the all-girls Catholic school. Even the nuns were gossiping. Word soon spread across the street to the all-boys academy and her party was a hit. As Karen watched the excited faces of everyone, she realized she found her calling.

The ratio of women was three to one as scores of beautiful women in their baddest outfits pressed against the stage hoping, wishing and praying Albert Brown the kid from Mount Vernon New York who became superstar Al B Sure, would notice them. Suddenly the lights dimmed and every woman in attendance stopped breathing.

“Ladies, I have one question to ask.” A sexy voice asked in the darkness. “Do you wanna, do you wanna-wanna-wanna rescue me?!” suddenly the lights blared on with an explosive beat and Al B. Sure took the stage dressed in his trademark acid-washed denim jeans, and jacket, black patent leather shoes no socks and dark shades.  

Pandemonium ensued as women screamed from excitement. Big Kathy had her hands full preventing overzealous fans from bum rushing the stage and tackling him.

After an hour, Al B. Sure was covered in sweat and the stage was covered with panties. He ended the show with the song that put him on the map, ‘Night and Day’ then thanked everyone for coming out and showing love. Karen and Tommy traded looks and he nodded his approval at her for putting this all together. And at that moment she felt like that sixteen-year old girl who got Jermaine Jackson to perform at Frances’ sweet-sixteen.