Yeah, they closed the Cantina last October, almost a year to the day. Bandit went to work for the VA while going to court every couple of months fighting for his liquor license, and Marko packed up and flew to Iraq to train security forces. Some of the girls were forced to take jobs at Canatti’s Fish and Chips joint. The Chinaman took over the galley at Shamrock’s Fish Market and got fired six months later for improving their bland salsa.
Here’s what happened: Just a week before Biketoberfest on the east coast, Bandit’s Cantina gang was celebrating the end of the summer, preparations for Halloween parties, the full moon, who gives a fuck. They celebrated every weekend it wasn?t raining. The joint cranked from dawn to after midnight every day. The crowds grew, the girls flocked and fucked after- hours and life was good until Jerry started to hang around.
A squat local biker with a bobber built by Bandit cruised up to the Cantina, rapped his shotgun straight pipes and rattled the windows. He scrambled off the bike and yanked open the heavy arched Oak door to the saloon and dining room.
“Where you headed?” Frankie shouted from across the parking lot.
He was sweeping leaves and cigarette butts from the freshly laid, dark surface with a broad push broom. Jerry knew Frankie from his alcoholic days and Frankie knew Jerry as a wise-ass kid from the ghetto.
“What’s it to you, old man?” Jerry shouted.
“You don’t drink,” Frankie said.
“Neither do you,” Jerry said. “At least you?d better not.”
“Seven years straight,” Frankie said.
Frankie was less than 50 years of age, but looked 90, whereas Jerry crested 40 and still looked a pudgy 30 with a sharp goatee and thick matted hair that never needed combing.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jerry spat at the curb and pulled on his drooping denims over tan leatherwork boots. He worked construction off and on.
“Don’t bring your wives around here,” Frankie said, thinking back to Jerry’s last visit to Bandit’s Cantina, and turned back to his broom.
Frankie didn’t have much going and Bandit saved his scurvy ass with a menial job fixing and sweeping around the Cantina. Jerry just shook his head and pulled at the big thick door.
Inside the place was smokin.’ There were wall-to-wall girls, in addition to the hot-looking barmaids. The bar was packed with riders and happy patrons. Marko immediately approached Jerry with a stern stare.
“We don’t need your trouble around here,” Marko said.
“No problem,” Jerry mutter, but his phone went off in his pocket, screaming, “Where you at?” Rap music followed.
“She’s not a problem,” Jerry said and saw a riding partner belly up to the bar. “I promise, no problem. Sorry about the last time.”
Marko shook his head and wandered off. It was happy hour on a Friday and the Cantina was rapidly filling up as the sun drifted over the harbor and the sunset streaked the sky to the west, another knockout day on the coast.
Jeremiah’s phone rang again and this time he answered it.
“What are you doing?” Carla quizzed.
“I’m just hanging out with some pals,” Jerry returned. The phone went quiet for 10 seconds.
“You’re at the Cantina!” Carla shouted. “I knew it! I told you to never go there again!”
“Give it a break, will ya?” Jeremiah said.
“I want to take the kids to the movies,” she snapped. “I need you to bring me 50 dollars, right now.”
“Later,” Jerry said.
“Right now!” Carla spat.
“I paid child support,” Jerry said.
“What difference does that make?” Carla said. “I’ll call child services.?
“Gimme an hour,” Jerry said.
“Bring it now!”
Jerry hung up and returned to the bar. Nyla looked particularly sexy this Friday evening with her soft creamy boobs spilling out of her gathered blouse. A dark-haired girl approached Jerry and Bad Brad and started talking bikes and the Horse Smoke Out rocking the Arizona hills 50 miles from Sedona a few weeks prior.
She wasn’t the floozy type or the needy broad who wanted everything, every minute of the day. She seemed upbeat and ready for some fun. She reeked of a tomboy edge, but she was voluptuous, like Jerry preferred in women. Wearing a light flannel shirt unbuttoned to the center of her chest, her tan, abundant cleavage was delightfully visible and Jerry went for it like dog after a steak bone.
Chinaman, wearing a stained white chef’s frock delivered steaming chips, salsa and fresh cool spicy guacamole in a pottery dish. Everything dazzled Jerry’s eyes like a kid under fresh Christmas pine needles and dazzling Christmas tree ornaments.
An hour passed and his cell phone screamed, but Jerry paid little attention. Jerry bought Amanda another Gold Cadillac Margarita and her big dark eyes glistened in the waning sunlight off the harbor. She attended the local community college and worked at Home Depot in San Pedro. They talked of construction, hardware and building tools. She was making Jerry’s day as she smiled and the edge of her soft natural areola showed under the hem of her shirt. She drove him nuts.
Between numerous repair jobs and remodeling kitchens and baths, Jeremiah struggled with two ex-wives and three bastard kids. Plus his home situation with his brother and wife lacked cohesiveness and calm surroundings. Amanda’s smooth gaze, brilliant white teeth and mountains of curves took him away from all the heartache and turmoil to a soft, delightful escape.
Tina dropped a tray of margaritas as she headed to a new, large table of patrons. The Cantina erupted in laughter and applause. Tina did that every night and Marko suspected that it was a scheme to show off her new giant boob job as she leaned to clean up the mess. Or he assumed Bandit worked it out with her to break the edge, if the Cantina went quiet or to distract patrons barking fighting words. Whatever, it always worked.
The new group of eight jammed around the large table as if to celebrate a birthday. They were new to the Cantina and Marko overheard one guy who looked like a suit mention Long Beach.
Tina returned to the bar to reload her large bar tray with Margaritas. She apologized to the group for the delay and gave them all an additional shot of Quervo Gold. The Chinaman’s busboy delivered fresh salsa chips and guac and the party began.
By the second round of Margaritas, the cameras came out and were flashing mostly around a young blond broad while she sipped her drink and smiled with tanned surfer-girl features.
Marko grabbed Tina by the arm. “Did you card her?” he said.
“Yeah, but she didn’t have her purse,” Tina muttered spinning past Marko to collect another order. “Her boss vouched for her.”
Just then, Marko’s walkie-talkie squawked. “Undercover cops,” Frankie said, as Marko approached the large table in the center of the sprawling adobe dining room.
“Excuse me,” Marko said to the suit. “I need to see an ID for before we serve any more drinks to her.”
The lanky gent stood up abruptly, “Too late,” he said and pulled his wallet from his slacks, flashing it open to show his ABC (Alcohol and Beverage Control) badge, just as the front door burst open, and several undercover cops blazed in, flashing badges and shouting.
“We’re closing this establishment until further notice and a hearing to investigate under-age drinking,” the officer bellowed across the room. Other officers began to handcuff Tina, Shiela and Nyla.
Marko stepped to the side and behind a pillar. As a cop handcuffed the big round Chinaman, Marko slid outside through the galley and disappeared over the wharf wall to the briny water below where he kept a kayak tied to a pier leg. Bandit was never seen or arrested, but he bailed out all of his employees before the night was over.
Jerry tried to stay with Amanda as the crowd hurried out the front doors, but she slipped away and he found himself standing beside his bobber as other riders talked about the uproar and mounted their bikes. Most were afraid of DUIs and walked across the street to buy energy drinks at the liquor store.
Jerry’s phone rang again. “Where you at?” it shouted and he pulled it free from his Levis.
“What?”
“I told you I wanted money,” Carla slurred in her snotty fashion. “Now you might as well bring me the money. I closed your bar.”
“You what?” Jerry spat.
“I called the ABC and told them I’m 18 and drink there all the time,” Carla said and hung up.
“Fuck,” Jerry said hanging up his phone and straddling his black and gold bobber.
“You brought one of your bitch ol’ ladies again,” Frankie said watching all the patrons leave.
“I suppose you’re right,” Jerry said kicking the Shovelhead. “I’m sorry man.”
“You need to take control of the situation, not let the situation control you,” Frankie said and pushed the broom toward the shed behind the Cantina.
