Ironically the jovial crowd seemed calmer then usual that night. Generally on much rowdier evenings, Mike would still vanish back into his office to get ahead on some office work. This night, for reasons that he could not understand, he would not leave his post.
As senseless as it seemed, he remained watchful. Like a mother bird over her newly hatched babies, Mike stood on high alert surveying everything and everyone around him. His head swiveled in distinct measured angles mechanically locking in on zero, one hundred and eighty, then ninety degree angles. After the sequence completed, he followed it with an identical repetition.
He felt tensed. The same feeling overcame him since the night he became reinstated into the special forces. No one ever knew about the job he did then and no one ever would. Just like that night when he was chosen for a special mission, he reacted to any odd sound by jerking his head in that particular direction. If he decided that there was no cause for alarm, the robotic like process would resume, zero, ninety, and one hundred and eighty degrees.
Time dragged along with nothing visibly out of sync. He entertained the idea that he may have to face a hard fact. His instincts could possibly have been just an unwarranted illusion. Hour after hour passed and the end result revealed the same, nothing. No over excited disorderly individuals, no wild private parties, not even the random occasional troublemaker invaded the club. Even the customary arrival of college aged frat boys groping women as they passed were missing on a normal night but still too normal.
His sixth sense never failed him before. So am I due for it to be off now? But that was not taken seriously. Men that he served with and especially under knew of his innate ability to feel impending peril and was the very reason that he was recruited to perform special missions.
As a weekend warrior Mike’s skill’s remained sharp. Although the weekends away became more and more inconvenient, he thrived on the rush of the special assignments. He worked with a small covert group that were specially selected to do what others only saw in the movies, so rather they admitted it or not, they all thrived on the rush.
The bar remained peaceful but for Mike it was merely a façade. He felt in his soul that he was about to get an even bigger rush as if the scales of darkness were slowly tilting in his direction.
CHAPTER FOUR
The very day Mike purchased the Memphis bar he knew that he would have to remain working as the head bouncer. Who could take care of security better then him? Working security lacked the rush he received for the secret military operations but he still loved it.
He eyed the rear of his nightclub peering through the gray smoke that reflected the multi colored club lights against the back wall. On the opposite side of the wall, Mike’s office sat with a desk piled with uncompleted paperwork. The idea of disappearing to the work space became a tempting but impractical thought.
Conventional thinking surfaced but fell short of overcoming dark emotions. He displaced the temptation to work in his office but wondered if he would regret it.
The regret for his decision to remain working security never surfaced. An off balanced facet griped the night even tighter then it had before. It disturbed the air like the smoke from the countless number of lit cigarettes. The smoke rose in anomalous angles like a barley audible off beat inserted within a perfectly composed piece but the crowd seemed oblivious.
The crowd roared with the familiar sounds of festive delight. For them, for that night and that moment, life remained a joyous, in sync, and worry free occasion. For Mike, a dark curtain continued to shield the unknown.
He pulled his cell phone out to check for messages. There were none. The red battery symbol indicated that less then 10% electronic life remained. Dammit! Forgot to charge the phone.
Just below the battery indicator displayed a time of 10:22 p.m. The crowd, consistently at this time of the night, reached its maximum capacity. With that other the music also shifted away from the DJ to the live band. Sound Check - the night’s scheduled entertainment - stood on stage checking their instruments.
Much like the daily variation in bands, each night had its own vibe, and each crowd its own personality. The entire crowd’s persona altered as soon as music changed to the live set.
Without fail, by the time the band hit the stage the crowd transformed to an all time festive high. The combination of the live band music with the extended period spent downing cocktails peaked between the 10:30 and 11:30 time frame.
The bar became a little louder and the crowd a turned little wilder officially transforming from a bar into a nightclub. Mike referred to this point of the night as the point of no return because from that time on, the night belonged to Michelob.
Mike’s focal point lingered on the horseshoe shaped dance floor that stretched around the front of the stage. It remained packed, overflowing with carefree spirits dancing to temptation’s tempo. If anything moved to an out of control level, Mike could set his watch for this very time period and in this area. With the maximum number of people to watch and faster flowing cocktails, the dance floor always remained the central collective for mayhem.
Mike watched as people bumped into one another squeezing on an off of the small dance floor. The extended time frame that remained between the liquor fueled hours preceding closing time created a danger zone. Too much time for too much to occur.
By the end of the first playing session, Sound Check had the crowd in the palm of their hands. This task was simple because the crowd needed to be entertained and any entertained would have stimulated intoxicated clubbers. Without fail, the area around the stage became to place to see but most of all be seen.
Within a short span, no room remained to enter or even leave the dance floor. When one or two would manage to squeeze away, the opened slots were instantly filled. The live music entranced the crowd like a moth to light.
To the crowd’s delight, the tunes blasted through the six foot high speakers controlling the dancers’ movement while filling every section of the club’s interior.
As far as Mike was concerned, no music played in the bar. The only resonance in his ear contained the ever extending existence of concentrated silence. The military training and the years spent working as the bar’s bouncer conditioned him with the ability to block out any unnecessary sounds. Only odd noises relating to unwanted chaos emerged from the silence allowing the separation of the senses to enhance his vision.
“Crash!!!!” The sudden loud disturbance thundered through the club rising above the band’s deafening music. Everyone in the immediate area scattered, stumbling away, wildly moving away from the odd clamor. Mike’s body reacted instantly.
I knew it! His legs steered in the direction of the commotion. He flew though the crowd slicing between patrons making an unyielding direct path toward the source of the noise. His heart raced with the excitement of pure adrenalin running across his spine. As he pushed his body faster he slowed his thought process. He mentally prepared himself for the awaiting unknown.
CHAPTER FIVE
The thunderous disturbance created multiple reactions throughout the crowd. Some stood motionless while others dashed in any direction away from the area. Only a flash of time existed between the sound of disturbance and getting to the source. Before many even noticed, Mike covered the distance and leaped across the bar standing among the onlookers.
Ruben - the head bartender - screamed across the curious clubbers. “Somebody get Big Mike!!!”
Already there, Mike pried his way between the last two onlookers. He pulled his body into the center of the crowd looking down along with the rest. Everyone’s eyes drew to the core of the semi circle. As soon as Mike saw the sight before him he released the deep breath he held inside.
His Italian smile formed as he placed his hands on his waist. He rolled his eyes before pinching the top of his nose to stifle a laugh. Unbelievable.
A scattered mess piled in the far corner. Large and small display bottles scattered among the
thin broken glass. In the center of the mess sat a red faced employee of his named Kelly Hurst.
“Kelly, Kelly, Kelly my dear friend.”
She would not look up as she sat on the floor with the serving tray still in her loose grip. Kelly cupped her face inside of her small hands. Her body sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by broken Bacardi bottles samples, a bent display board, and spilled liquor.
“A few drinks too many I’m guessing?”
Kelly did not answer at first. After a contemplated minute, with her head still down, she mumbled a response. “Was coming back with the um, the stupid, thingy. But, I mean the stupid tray with drinks then, God!! Then I um, tripped on the stupid display because-”
Her usual pale completion glowed in a deep crimson. The red tint appeared brightly even through chaotically tossed blonde hair. Her sharp even features frowned, turning inward with frustration over her dark round eyes. Mike tried to conceal his partially smiling face.
“Kelly what am I going to do with you. You ok?” Mike lifted her up failing miserable at his half attempt to obscure his amusement.
“Oh famous…real famous! Go ahead Mike! Do your thing!” Kelly glowered.
“Go ahead what?” Mike smiled even broader.
“Oh, come on Mike!!”
Kelly got to her feet and playfully punched Mike on his chest. Her scarlet cheeks glowed through the club’s dark interior. Mike relented unable hold it in any longer releasing a burst of laughter so wholehearted that it caused chain reaction. Everyone around joined in on the laughter. Everyone that is, except for Kelly.
She followed up with another punch to his chest, and then covered her face. Mike could see her smiling beneath her hands.
“Grow up!” she said. A resentful grin crept across her face.
As Kelly stood she twisted her body from one side to the other dusting herself off. Every man in the crowd stopped laughing and stared with gapped opened jaws. The mini shirt and unbutton blouse pulled all the attention away from her unfortunate mishap.
“Holy hell,” Mike began. “Over three months working here and still can’t carry a tray without dropping it huh?”
“Keep pushing it Mike,” Kelly shot back no longer amused.
“Where did that come from? What happened to the perky little waitress I hired to run my VIP section huh?”
“She died.”
Mike laughed. “Let me give you a lil advise there rookie. I know you like the free drink perks but, the trick is to let the customer get tipsy.”
“No kidding? Well if I recall, you also told me to always accept it when customers offer to by me drinks.”
She begins to do her impression of Mike that, in his opinion, always sounded more like Sylvester Stallone then anything remotely close to him. “Yo, Kelly if they offer don’t turn tem down, let tem buy you what eva, no what I mean?”
“Is that supposed to be me?” Mike replied with his deep monotone voice. He wondered if the distain he had for getting impersonated showed on his face. He hoped it did. “Well what eva but I don’t think that your lil 120 pound frame can handle more then two or three. Just take it easy.”
Kelly twisted her head up at Mike. Her eyes narrowed and cheeks flared. “I’m not out there doing this for me Michael! Hell, if I’m not doing a good job get someone else to do it.”
Mike took a step back caught off guard by a side of Kelly that he had never seen. Everyone knew that the VIP sales had sky rocketed every since she began working the area. Customers often came to him and admitted that they came in just to see her and bask in her infections naturally high spirits.
He didn’t need the customers to tell him about Kelly, he saw the numbers. Every time she worked the area the numbers were good, very good. Kelly’s abilities naturally progressed and her innate tendency to place others before herself made her ideal for waitressing. Night after night the number of VIP customers increased and Kelly kept everyone’s glass filled; they in return did the same for her tip jar.
“This is not the time Kelly,” Mike said as he glanced over at the nearby customers. He lowered his voice before speaking again. “Just chill on the blonde bombshell routine and let the VIP customers get loaded, not you.”
Her response was not as quiet. “Routine? What the hell!? I was working my tail off till I slipped on the gigantic display that you had to put right in the already too small isle. And for the record Michael, I wasn’t loaded.” She pressed her skirt down and defiantly pulled the hair out of her face.
Mike’s emotions changed from irritation to concern. Wait a second. A sudden realization hit Mike with a hard impact. The preoccupation with the front entrance, the bar area, and the dance floor caused him to overlook one key section.
All night he concentrated on the three key areas not realizing that he practically ignored a forth section. Among everything watched one part of the club was inadvertently omitted. Not even once during the entire night did he take his usual walk through Kelly’s VIP section.
The tingling across his spine rose to another level.
CHAPTER SIX
The VIP area sat along the south wall of the bar sectioned off with velvet ropes. The elevated platform allowed an ideal view of the stage. Mike snapped his head toward the area staring at the now obstructed section of the bar but could not see inside the area.
The crowd not only blocked the crowded dance floor from the floor level, but also the view of the VIP section. Dense cigarette and stage smoke added to the difficult task of seeing past the crowd. He felt his pulse quicken. How could I have missed that section?
Other times Mike would have beat him self up for omitting the area. This time no desire surfaced to second guess his actions. Besides there had never been a need for concern when it came to the VIP area and for all he knew it may not be a need now.
Kelly voiced more of her frustrations. Her squeaky high pitched protest blended in with the deafening noise inside of the club. She went on and on ranting about the display, her wet clothes, and wanting to work in a different area. Her protest faded lower and lower as Mike remained focused on her designated area.
“The hell with this Mike!” Kelly continued. “I don’t give a damn how big this guy’s tips are. And his damn entourage kept staring at me creeping me out. I’m done.”
Big Tips? Entourage?
Like a stereo’s volume knob being slowly turned to the left, all of the surrounding sounds gradually decreased to complete silence. From that point Mike blocked out everything that came from Kelly’s mouth. His mind and senses locked on one thing and one area.
The tingling sensation he first felt was at an all time high. His entire world muted as it fully embraced the earlier overwhelming intuition. Mike became immobile as his body faced the exclusive section of the club. He needed to see who sat in the area but from his vantage point, it was impossible.
The crowd around the stage now seemed thicker almost impenetrable. For him silence now swept the room but his inner thoughts filled his head with overbearing voices. The air thickened making it more difficult to breath. The collective crowd moved in sluggish motions congregating in front of the stage. They formed an even wider barrier between him and his target area.
Mike watched with a tensed stare as the crowd slowly altered their chance arrangement. One by one the group changed in uncertain patterns allowing a deeper visual penetration to the other side. After a period of time they adjusted just for him to catch an image.
Three large men sat flanked around to the center table. Like massive statues they stiffly posed with their arms folded in front of their barrel chests over their bulging guts. Mike instinctively leaned his body forward to see more.
Their stiff presence clued Mike to their possible identity. Body guards. The center gorilla stood then made his way over to the only person that was still out of Mike’s view. The gigantic man leaned over and whispered into the ear of the last seated person.
The multi-colored lights shot from th
e stage but not enough to fully illuminate the section. Instead of a detailed view, the area flashed random pictures of indistinctive red, green, and blue outlines. Only shadows emerged from the sight.
The seated person displayed a formidable silhouette within the darkness. The multi-colored lights and substantial artificial stage smoke mixed into the real smoke that drifted from the cigarette held in the silhouette’s hand.
His arm lifted to light the cigarette in his mouth then lowered to rest on the table. The released smoke from his mouth spread into the dark air floating like miniature dark clouds, then disappearing within obscurity.
Mike’s eyes blinked frequently adjusting to the darkness. The sight transformed into more then just mere outlines and shadowed figures. Facial details emerged converting the uncertain images into a clearer more vivid picture. Along with the developing clarity arrived a deeper sentiment apprehension.
Like a nightmare the figure materialized into a face that Mike knew all too well. The image carved out an era in Mike’s life that could not be forgotten and represented a less then noble period of his life. The memory had been placed aside and mentally filed away in less then ambitious hopes that it would eventually vanish.
Mike felt his world transform while the room grew smaller. Walls closed in, bending in odd formations. The vision reversed his mind’s hidden compartments stepping back in time through a portal to the past. The flesh bodied presentation of a nightmare and the most dangerous and feared man in the country sat inside of his bar.
The fact that this man appeared anywhere in public haunted his sense of rationale but there was an added concern. Trepidation lifted from the darkest moment of Mike’s past forcing him to face the verity that what is buried is not always dead. The history between himself and the man seated remained a bad one…a very bad one.
Martin Garcia’s shadow forced memories that Mike never wanted to face. The man not only had dark ties to Mike, but even darker connections to a world outside of civil society. His role in the Mexican mafia exceeded mere participation; he was what the mafia was built around. Now he sat directly across the bar with his eyes locked on Mike.