Tales of Slack: Chapter 12 (part 4)

"Matthew's Hubcap Trick"

Scully's Bar. The Tenderloin, San Francisco. 1996

Matthew and I were sitting in front of Scully's bar. There was some crappy plastic lawn furniture chained to a pole. This was before Mr. Phillips had the deck built off to the side. Anyways, Frankie Styles and Andie pulled up and parked illegally right in front of us. He was still driving that black station wagon that he thought looked like a hearse. It kind of did look like a hearse in the same way a pony kind of looks like a horse.

"Dan. Ork." He said as he walked up. He always called Matthew, "Ork," but I can't remember why. I think Frankie once said he used to play Dungeons & Dragons and Matthew reminded him of a juvenile Ork. That sounds faintly familiar so let’s go with that. After Andie got her stuff together, she got out of the passenger side and waved as she flashed us a smile.

"What's going on?" Andie said still smiling. She looked like she could be Tori Amos’ younger sister. Brownish red hair, wide mouth with exaggerated lips, and twinkling blue eyes. Which, I might add, always seemed to linger when we made eye contact.

"Go on in, Andie. Let me have a word with the Brothers Slack." Frankie said.

"Sure, see you guys inside." Andie said walking in.

Frankie smiled down on us like a proud father. "Do you fellas see something missing from the bone wagon?"

"You call your station wagon the "bone wagon?"" Matthew said with a chuckle.

"Do you see something missing?" He persisted.

"Yeah, your hubcap." I said.

"Right! Your powers of perception never cease to amaze me. Here's ten bucks, Orc. See if you can find me a match." He held the ten dollar bill and motioned to the garage/body shop next to Scully's with its over filled parking lot of projects and wrecks spilling into Scully's parking lot.

"Sure, Frankie, sure. . .I gotcha covered." Matthew said taking the ten.

Frankie grinned and made a clicking sound in his cheek as he pointed at us both, his fingers simulating two pistols. "I'll catch you two later." And he went into Scully's.

"Can he see us?" Matthew asked thumbing towards the bar’s window behind us.

I looked and could see Frankie talking to Andy Boy as Andie Girl moved behind the bar. "Nope. He’s talking to Andy Boy."

Matthew took out a clunky Swiss Army Knife and pulled out the little screwdriver and ducked around to the rear of the driver's side of Frankie's car. A squeaking metal sound preceded Matthew returning with Frankie's hubcap. He walked around and popped Frankie's rear left hubcap on the vacant front right hubcap.

"There we go." He grinned and sat back down in the plastic chair with a look of immense satisfaction. “Perfect match.”

Andie had apparently put some money in the jukebox before getting behind the bar because someone had just turned on the outside speakers and the music playing was her favorite bar tune, “El Paso” by Marty Robbins. We could hear the few patrons in the bar singing along with the parts they knew.

Matthew softly sang too, “And at last here I am on the hill overlooking El Paso; I can see Rosa's cantina below.” Then looked up and said, “Wanna go to the taqueria and get a burrito?”

My mind immediately pictured a watermelon sized burrito filled with rice, beans, and cheese. “Yeah, that sounds good. The one around the corner?”

“Yeah”

At the same time we were planning on spending the $10, Frankie left Scully’s and after noticing the “new” hubcap said, “Pretty fast, Ork." He walked around to the front of his car as Matthew gave him the thumbs up. Matthew laughed as Frankie drove away oblivious to the fact that he still only had three hubcaps.

Tales of Slack: Chapter 3

"I highly doubt Keven fell down."
The Flying Saucer Draught Emporium, Downtown Memphis, Tennessee. Years later. . .1998


The bar was not full. Just patrons on the fringes, kind of like moss on a brick wall, you know, creeping in on the edges. The problem was I knew it should be full by now and that worried me. I saw Rob in position near the pay phone, but couldn’t see where Kamal was. Had he slipped in while my back was turned? I'm pretty sure I had been vigilant.

A group of women practically burst in laughing, disrupting the piped in unknown alternative music. The waitress said, “Sit where ever you want, ladies.” The women proceeded to the center of the bar. The tiaras and pink feathered boa’s spelled out what they were: a bachelorette party. The glittery sequins on their belts, purses, and shirts, when combined with their make-up gave me the distinct impression that they were tropical fish. You know, the colorful kind in salt water aquariums, and well, the ocean.

I looked over at Rob and made eye contact and then looked down at my watch, as if to say, “Where the hell is he?” Rob shrugged and shook his head.

Out of the window, I glimpsed a puff of smoke coming from behind the brick wall just out of view. Near the edge of the window I also saw the wind blow some long blond hair into view. Making eye contact again with Rob, I motioned for him to stay in position. I left the bar stool and my half-full pint glass as my place holder. Notice I didn't say "Half-empty?" I'm trying to be more optimistic these days.

“Leaving already?” The waitress asked.

Hey, she sounds genuinely disappointed, I thought as I said, “Nope, be right back.”

Outside, I turned left and saw Kamal leaning against the brick wall talking to a blond woman and to her right her just as blond, but clearly ready to go, friend.

“Hey, Kamal.” I said staying near the bar entrance several feet away from the trio.

“Lieutenant Dan!” Kamal smiled, “Come meet my new friends.”

I sighed and went to join the threesome, “Hey, nice to meet you." Then lower I added, "Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, man, we got plenty of time, right?”

“No. No we do not have plenty of time unless we are going by Samhouri time which we are not.”

Turning to the women and with as much charm as possible, Kamal said “Sorry ladies, but unfortunately I must leave you.” Then added with a smile, “Call me.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come in with the bachelorette party.” I said steering Kamal into the door.

“Eh? Bachelorettes?”

As we entered a different waitress said, “Back already, guys?”

I looked over at Rob’s location to now find it vacant. This is like herding cats! I thought. Was there some dark force keeping only two of us in the bar at once time? Too bad Jake was out of town, I'd like to see what ever was at work here keep four of us at bay.

“Hey Leah,” I said to the waitress, “Did you see Rob leave?"

"Who?" She asked.

"A tall, blond guy in a blue jean jacket. . .did anyone like that leave in the last 2 minutes?”

“No, I don’t think anyone has left.” Leah answered. Was starting to wonder if this was some kind of guessing game and I was just not asking the right questions.

“Wait around here, Kamal, watch the door.” I said in a low voice and headed deeper into the bar. I still saw no sign of Rob. The bachelorette party cackled as their first round of drinks arrived on a massive tray carried by a tiny waitress.

Walking into the bathroom, I immediately saw a pair of feet, as well as the legs connected to them, sprawled across the floor. Kevin’s small frame was splayed out with his head resting ever so gently against the wall. Rob was standing over him holding a small black case the size of a pack of post-it notes. “Got it.” He smiled.

“What happened to Kevin?” I said pointing at the unconscious punk, who, I had just noticed had dyed his hair a fluorescent orange. The brightly colored hair did not improve his normally greasy appearance . . . neither did lying on the floor in a bar's restroom, for that matter.

Rob shrugged as he handed me the black plastic case, “He fell down. . .sorta.”

Tales of Slack: Chapter 12

"Trapped with Pantera" AKA "Neil's PETA Caper"

San Francisco, 1996. Pine Street across from the First Republic Bank

We were in a van that used to be white, until someone had left on the street in a wrong part of town, and was now covered with graffiti. My brother Matt was driving, and I was riding shotgun, which was ironic, because the chick in the back kneeling and holding on to our seats (because there were no seats in the back) was actually carrying guns.

We met her only a half an hour earlier. Wait, let me back up.

In the Tenderloin of San Francisco where I lived, I had befriended a guy named Neil who was a bartender for banquets at the convention center. He was also a petty crook and hustler. Anyways, Neil had planned a crazy heist that I was an integral component. A friend of mine's roommate worked at PETA. My initial job was to find out where PETA kept the furs and steal the roommate's keys. What furs? PETA takes fur donations and then uses them in publicity stunts and protests. Neil wanted to steal them and sell them. Actually, it would be more accurate to say Neil wanted me to steal them and he would sell them. Due to his mannerisms and behavior, a lot of people thought that Neil was mentally retarded, or at least had some kind of learning disability, but it was all an act. It's hard to explain how he acted, you'd have to see him in action to know what I'm talking about. I think it may have come from some coping mechanism to avoid being teased when he was a kid. My brother thought he was brain damaged because Neil used to be an amateur boxer, but I still think it was all an act. Mainly because when it was just me and him, he seemed pretty sharp.

I easily got my friend's roommate to disclose the location of the furs (some lockers in the basement of their office building), and stealing her keys while we are all at dinner was not hard either. Convincing my brother to "find" a truck was the hard part, primarily because he was really into some video game at the time (Mortal Kombat, maybe).

A not so close but very sleazy friend of Neil's named Frankie was supplying the muscle, encase something went wrong. None of us were very tough and none of us wanted to get caught with guns or weapons while doing one of Neil's "capers," so Frankie supplied the person who would take the fall if it all went bad while at the same time covering our asses. We were waiting at the bar under my apartment, called Deco, when Frankie walked in with his arm around a petite Hispanic girl who looked no older than 19.

"This is Pantera. She'll be carrying the weapons."

Matt chuckled. "Pantera?"

"Pantera."

"I call bullshit."

"Damn it, Matt. It's an alias. A codename." Frankie was using a tone that was usually reserved to explaining things to small children.

"How come we don't get codenames?

"I thought your names were aliases! My real name is sure the hell not "Frankie.""

"Yeah, ours are aliases, too." I lied. "Just not cool ones like Pantera and Frankie."

"Pantera" was wearing black jeans, a black tank top, and a red and white leather motorcycle jacket and looked like she might weigh 100 pounds if that included the jacket. . . as well as her clunky boots. She was attractive, but I couldn't help but think that if she smiled she would probably be very attractive.

"She's the muscle. . .this Pantera?" Matt asked.

Frankie stood behind her, a good 2 feet taller and had both his hands on her shoulders. "Yeah, don't be deceived by her small stature, boys. Pantera here was a MP in the marines for 4 years."

Matt's expression said "No way." But that was the last he questioned her qualifications.

By the way she had a blank expression while the three of us talked about her as if she wasn't there, I was starting to think she couldn't speak English. But then she said, "Let's go. I got things to do tonight."

"Ok, good luck." Frankie turned her around and kissed her forehead, "You guys meet me in Daly City." And he left.

So, the three of us were sitting in the van outside PETA's San Francisco offices around 11PM. Despite what you may think, San Francisco is NOT one of those cities that never sleeps. It shuts down by 11PM, I think because of all the commuters, so Pine Street was deserted. Matt dropped us off and was drove around to the back of the 15 story tall building to the loading docks in the alley.

We walked into the building's dark foyer after I fumbled with the key ring trying to find the right key. Luckily, there were only 5 possible keys and I got it right with Key 3. There were no security cameras that I could tell. There were two elevators, so we pressed down and got into one. The doors closed with a little ding, and I had three likely buttons to choose from (2-15 were obviously not the basement). L was the lobby, so it had to B1 or B2. One of the B's was probably a parking garage so I randomly picked B1. We felt the elevator lurch a bit and then it stopped. A small light came on next to little sign that said "Call Elevator Service" and listed a number.

"Oh shit." I said, my mind scrambling for options.

"It's stuck?!?" Pantera asked while simultaneously stating the obvious.

"Yeah, but it has a service number available. And this big red "Alarm" button, too."

"We can't do that! Either of those."

"Right." I looked up at the impossibly high elevator ceiling for the infamous "emergency trap door" and after seeing its outline, I doubted a loaf of bread would fit through it. "So, what kind of gun are you carrying?" I was thinking, I do not want to be caught in this elevator with a woman with a gun.

She turned a round and lifted her jacket exposing two beefy automatic pistols criss-crossed in the small of her back in black canvas holsters. She also revealed a tattoo on her lower back of what appeared to be a hand flipping me off while holding a fist full of money.

"Two guns? Why do you carry two guns?"

She turned back around. "They're automatics. They might jam. So one's a back up."

"Why not use a revolver? They don't jam."

"Cause it only holds 6 shots."

"You could aim, that way you don't need all those bullets. Are you a bad shot or something?"

"Can you quit with the questions and fix this elevator?"

"Well. . .I'm not actually a skilled type of thief. This is the only tool I have" I opened my jacket revealing the bolt cutters I brought for the lockers' pad locks.

If I had a cell phone back then I would have called Matt to come in and see what he could do, but I just got my first cell phone in 2006. But what could he do? Knowing him he would laugh and say "just your luck!"

"Stand back, lady, let me try something." I couldn't get the nerve up to actually call her Pantera. She was chewing on her right thumbnail.

I got my fingertips into the crack of the elevator doors and pulled it open. I was hoping that we were halfway to B1 and could just drop down the rest of the way, but all we saw was a concrete wall. Someone had written "K19" in chalk about eye level.

"Crap." I said and let the doors shut. However, as soon as they shut the elevator lurched and the service light went off. And the doors opened a second later with us staring at an empty parking garage.

"Did you do that on purpose?" She asked, apparently thinking the whole incident was a practical joke.

"Nope. Let's take the stairs to B2."

We found the stairs, the key that fit the door at the bottom of the stairs, and eventually the storage room that another key opened. We also found the lockers, and emptied them of all their furs and transported the furs to the loading dock where Matt was waiting. I looked at my watch and it was only 11:22.

My cut of the furs was $2500 and paid for three months rent.

I never saw Pantera again.