Slick Steve hurried to the back of the Cantina through the steaming galley, where the Chinaman was preparing for the dinner crowd. He watched disgustedly as Steve removed his bar apron and threw it into the laundry damper. He knew what Steve was up to and was curious why Bandit hadn’t thrown him out. Steve picked up a leather briefcase from his locker and headed toward the back door. A mist of nervous sweat formed on his brow as he left the building, looking both ways and heading for his black Corvette. The Asians who were hanging around the bar were making him nervous. He didn’t know why they always seemed to be nearby during his shift.
Steve was also shaken by Marko’s announcement about the narcotics threat. He thought that the small, out-of-the-way shipboard village of San Pedro wouldn’t have narcs. He fired up the Vette and headed for the exit. He had to see his source, Gomez, in Wilmington, before heading home.
Tina continued to clean tables. She was wired after a couple lines of the strong crank, and her sex drive was on overload. She wanted to be totally naked, being fondled and touching someone else, anyone… Just then it dawned on her that Nyla would be checking in to take over the bar at any minute. Tina suddenly stood upright and looked around for a mirror. She made her way to the restroom while her jaws ground to the effect of the speed. She looked in the mirror and saw the muscles in her jaw flinch with the flexing. Her uniform top was white with a mid cut and gathered edge. She pulled at the waist to expose more of her cleavage, which was nothing to scoff at. She was beautiful in a natural way. Her red hair bounced around her shoulders enticingly. She pulled up her Mexican skirt and pulled off her panties. She tossed them in the trash and, as she cleaned her mostly shaven mound, she got turned on. Her body screamed with desire. She thought about the sex mixed with other fantasies. From her toenails to the top of her head, she was ablaze with sensual sensations.
The thought of being with another woman was driving her crazy. She could still see Nyla’s large tits bounce in her loose blouse constantly, but she had never gone there. She sensed that Nyla rode both ways and suddenly the thought of her lips touching Nyla’s and the notion of her own fingertips gliding down Nyla’s back and over her ass about shot her passion to the moon. She heard a noise and dropped her skirt. Her cheeks were rosy with blush, but she touched up her makeup and headed back into the dining room/bar.
Nyla had just walked in and spotted Tina coming out of the girls’ room. “Hey sweetie, what’s happening?”
“Oh nothing…” Tina said. “Uh, let me show you something.”
“Sure,” Nyla said, following her to the bathroom.
Once inside, Tina turned toward Nyla and stammered, “I’m… ah, are you…?”
“You’re wired,” Nyla said, recognizing the clammy skin and the clenched jaw working overtime.
“Ah, yeah,” Tina said, looking at the floor then back at Nyla’s tits. “I’m horny.”
“Do you want me or do you want me to fix you up?”
“You,” Tina said bashfully. “I want to touch you.” She stood toe to toe with Nyla and began to lift her skirt.
Nyla watched her skirt reveal more of those creamy redhead’s legs and skin so soft and enticing it would melt butter on a cold day. She sensed her own arousal, but knew she needed to get behind the bar. Besides, Mandy might come in at any moment, and she already didn’t want to ruin that good thing. She put her hand on Tina’s waist and looked down to see one gorgeous pussy, lightly freckled and shaved except for a small pad of light red hairs on her mound. She pulled Tina close and kissed her on the lips, letting her right hand run along Tina’s ass, across the silky thigh and between her legs. Her palm tasted Tina’s pussy and one finger slipped between her lips. The warmth was incredible, her lips divine.
She pulled back from a kiss that could have melted her teeth and whispered in Tina’s ear. “I don’t do this kind of thing at work. Besides, my guy gets jealous, but you feel wonderful.”
“I, I, I’m,” Tina was shaking, about to fall. “I’m coming.”
Nyla was torn. She wanted the girl, she wanted to knock it off before they were busted, she wanted to satisfy her. She slipped her finger back inside Tina’s tempting pussy and moved it just slightly. Tina’s hips thrust out for more as she screamed and pulled Nyla to her. She shuttered and Nyla held her up until reality returned. “I’ve got to go to my station,” Nyla said and left Tina leaning heavily against the sink, her face flushed.
Steve pulled up to the Gomez family hubcap shop on Avalon Boulevard. The Vette stuck out like a sore thumb in the downtrodden harbor industrial area. The empty streets were lined with abandoned concrete and block buildings and ship and small boat junkyards. There were no trees to enhance, just a smattering of gang graffiti and the trash winos left behind. Drunks stood on corners and panhandled while others slept on vacant stoops.
Gomez was standing on the sidewalk with a customer as Steve approached with his briefcase in hand, his mobile pharmacy. Gomez, a short, older man, was shooting the shit with a young Hispanic who was driving a rusting ’55 Chevy pickup.
“I’ve got more customers,” Steve shouted as he approached Gomez. “I need some shit. I’m going to have all of Ports of Call wired in no-time.” Steve was smiling from ear to ear as Gomez turned to face him. Steve was still wearing black patent-leather dress shoes, slick black pants, a white dress shirt and a slick black double-breasted sport coat. He was about as out of place as a turban-wearing Muslim in a Billy Graham church.
The young, tough-looking Hispanic looked at Steve’s Corvette, his clothes, the Rolex watch he was wearing and back at Gomez, raising one eyebrow. “Adios, amigo,” he said and headed toward his pickup.
Gomez looked up and down the block and said loud enough for the young man to hear, “Your hubcaps just arrived, senor. Come inside.”
The Gomez shop was a small building on a flat lot. Like the old used car sales buildings, it had only one front room, one small office and a toilet. He opened the door and allowed Steve to enter first.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” Steve said, walking into the room lined with cheap new hubcaps of all forms from fake spoked wheels to baby moons and beauty rings.
Gomez pointed to a door at the back of the uninhabited shop into the yard behind. Gomez had lived there in a house at the rear of the yard for over 20 years. Between the shop and his house was a metal-art dream of scrap auto parts. The gravel lot was lined with old bumpers, hubcaps, steering wheels, you name it. Chairs were made from car seats and barstools with hubcap seats. Hundreds of old exhaust pipes formed a lattice overhang to guard against the harsh sun in the summer and helicopter surveillance. Steve stepped down the back porch of the building and could see the small stucco home in the back some 100 feet away and began to head in that direction.
“I can’t sell crank fast enough,” he said, turning toward Gomez as he walked. “I…”
The punch hit Steve under his jaw. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a 3-speed transmission from a 1946 Nash and falling into a stack of rusting Nova hubcaps. He lost his briefcase in the rubble, almost pissing himself with fear. “What?” he tried to say when Gomes kicked him in the ribs, driving him deeper into the grease- and oil-soaked gravel. Steve pulled himself into a ball as his breath was forced from his body. He tried to think, to get to his feet, but he couldn’t. He could hear metal grating against the gravel as he collapsed against the rough surface, but he fought to look up.
Gomez pulled a chair made out of small compact bumpers and hubcaps and sat down. He calmly leaned forward with his wrinkled old elbows on his knees. In his hand was a Smith & Wesson .38, a snub- nose with a chipped handle. The chamber was open where he could check the number of bullets in the revolver’s ammunition cylinder. Steve looked up in utter horror.
“Mr. Steve,” Gomez said, the remnants of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You have much to learn, and little time. If we are going to do business you must understand the rules. Don’t bring fancy cars into my neighborhood. Don’t bring your Rolex watch or those clothes.” Gomez spun the cylinder closed and stood up. “What if that man I was talking to was a cop? Don’t ever talk about anything here but hubcaps until no one else is around. Do you understand?”
