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and refreshing. Skinny Frankie wandered around the parking lot sweeping
and picking up trash. He was so thin and frail the staff worried that he might
A single rider rode into the parking lot on an old raked chopper with a tall
sissy bar. He was middle-aged and stout. He wore a 1%er patch from back
east and he looked to be from Chicago. He kicked his kickstand down and
looked around, as if he might be followed. He took off his tattered and
scratched beanie helmet and donned a black beret. Everything he wore was
black, except for his silver and white Crossed Pistons 1%er patch. He wore
traditional Ray Bans except they were prescription. His scraggly beard was
all salt and pepper.
Mandy opened the big oak Cantina door with its handmade brass handles
and invited him inside and showed him to a table in the corner of the dining
room, where he could keep an eye on the front door, and he eyed her
succulent cleavage. She knew the drill. She brought him a menu and a cup
When she returned and smiled broadly, the outlaw said, “Huevos
“Do you want red or green sauce?” Mandy asked.
“What do you recommend?” He said.
“The red is just a red sauce and tomatoes, no meat,” Mandy described. “The
“Do you want tortillas or toast?” Mandy prepared to jot notes on her old-
“What kinds of toast do you have? The outlaw asked and pulled at his
“We have white, wheat, sourdough, rye and squaw bread.” Mandy said and
“Corn and flour,” Mandy responded, and her nipples seemed to say
something. “Never mind the Squaw Bread.”
“Potatoes,” he said with a snap.
“Home,” the outlaw said and started to drum his finger on the thick oak
table.
“Both,” he responded, and his eyes narrowed.
She immediately picked up the hungry, impatient vibe. “I’ll get the order
He reached out and touched her thigh slightly. “You’re making my day.”
Mandy darted off to the kitchen. A couple of longshoremen wandered in out
The phone rang behind the bar and bubbly Margaret grabbed it, “Bandit’s
Cantina. Hold on,” she said and pressed the hold button and nodded to
Marko, who picked up the line from his security post.
“Marko here,” he said. It wasn’t but 15 seconds and his eyes brightened,
and he hung up. He picked up the phone and dialed Bandit’s extension. “We
In a matter of three minutes Bandit clamored down the stairs and the two
big men donned their vests, fired up their choppers and sped out of the
They were less than ten minutes from the floating restaurant in Wilmington,
and they could hear emergency vehicles coming as they blew through the
next set of lights. They were forced to blast past the Harbor Police (a
department of LAPD) on their way and had to stop at the adjacent light.
Bandit looked over at Marko. “Let me take it from here,” he said. “This could
be a ruse to get us out of the Cantina. Get back there fast and set up a
perimeter watch.”
The light turned green and Bandit peeled rubber across town, past the
Longshoremen’s hall, then right on Henry Ford to Terminal Island, that
housed the federal prison. He jammed into the short road to the Chowder
Barge and saw smoke mixing with the fog. He was just ahead of the fire
Bandit slid to a corner of the parking lot overlooking the Leeward Bay
marina. Cop cars also sped into the lot. Bandit looked for Sin Wu. The
corner of the barge facing the channel was in flames. He reached into his
bedroll and yanked out a small set of binoculars and gazed through the
lenses to the foggy rocky shore on the opposite side of the channel. The fog
started to lift slightly and he spotted couple of toughs loading a lightweight
He scanned to the front of the slick all black vehicle with satin black wheels
and came to a small head sticking up from behind the SUV. She was
partially obscured by a large set of binoculars. She peered directly at Bandit,
When them came in contact with each other, she lowered the high-powered
glasses and waved. It was Wim whatever, the female illegal immigrant from
China. She tossed the expensive glasses in the weeds, climbed into the
SUV and her driver peeled out, spitting dust and debris in their wake.
Bandit turned his binoculars on the barge and found Sin Wu standing on the
dock. Someone wrapped her in a warm, comforting blanket. He made his
way to the gangway and down the dock to the Barge. A young male officer
questioned Sin with his notepad handy. He was short and tightly manicured,
He looked up at Bandit with brilliant blue eyes. “Where’s officer Mary?”
Bandit asked as he wrapped his arm around Sin’s shoulder.
“She’s been transferred to Watts,” the officer said abruptly. “She broke too
many rules.”
“This is Lt. Barnes,” Sin said and leaned hard against Bandit. “He won’t
make the same mistakes.” The body language was rampant when it came
to the hot looking, bi-sexual female officer who had been transferred to a
“What’s the deal here?” Bandit said.
“It’s the first terrorist attack on the Port of Los Angeles,” Officer Barnes
flashed. “Just what we needed to close off the port to any public access and
Bandit turned to Sin, “You okay?”
“Just startled,” Sin said. “And disappointed. I can’t make it, if I need to shut
“Let me deal with that,” Bandit said and yanked his phone from his vest. He
quickly made his way to the barge to assess the damage. It wasn’t sinking
or listing, a major consideration. The rear west corner was blown away
“Don’t sweat a thing,” Bandit said. “I put in a call to Red’s construction. He
will clean the Barge interior of any smoke damage with your crew. He’ll
cordon off the corner so you can do business minus a couple of tables.
Then he’ll fix the roof and make the dining room like new again.”
“His crew will be Johnny on the spot within an hour,” Bandit said and
“Can I come see you tonight?” Sin asked.
“Of course,” Bandit said and turned to officer Barnes. “Good luck with your
investigation, sir.” He wanted to ask Sin a couple more questions but not in
The young officer perked up with Bandit’s respect. “I’m all over it,” he said.
Bandit made his way back up the gangplank to the parking area full of
emergency vehicles. His mind whirled with options and concerns. He threw
his leg over his chopper and strapped on his required helmet. He started to
think about escaping California for the Badlands, a long-itching desire. Then
he pondered a more immediate concern, Wim whatever. She was a nasty
He couldn’t figure her out, and then again, maybe he could. He knew pure
evil folks, mostly guys who loved violence. He didn’t know what her motives
He fired up his chopper and rumbled out of the parking lot. He knew the
code; violence begets violence, if you let it. He also knew he had to protect
his Cantina family and the Barge fell into that community, with Sin Wu at the
helm. He shifted gears and pulled on his throttle hard. The chopper pulled a
wheelie and darted along the Port through Wilmington, a seriously
Bandit pulled into the parking lot just in time for lunch and the Chinaman’s
Wednesday special, Lobster Burrito. It was amazing with perfectly cooked
lobster coupled with sautéed red onions, potatoes, carrots and red bell
peppers and a scrambled egg smoothed out the flavors. The Chinaman had
a way with teriyaki sauces coupled with his perfect salsa for the best burrito
Odd for a Wednesday, the Cantina filled up. Maybe it was the Chinaman’s
magnificent burritos, his fresh guacamole, or the knockout waitresses and
music. A couple came in and Mandy sat them next to the table with the
outlaw. They seemed excited and wanted to share their news with the
The pair were hard-working Hispanics from Wilmington. Mr. and Mrs.
Valdarama. She was timid and small, whereas her husband was rotund,
short and effusive. They smiled like they had won the lottery and showed
King their find. They recently bought a ’57 T-Bird for a song and had come
to Bandit’s Cantina to pick it up. They planned to drive it immediately to
King looked at the official pink slip and noted the duplicate notation at the
top of the form. “Did you already pay for the vehicle?” King said.
“Yes, it was only $500,” the husband said with a broad smile. We got the
Bandit moved around the Cantina like a hamster on meth. He dealt with
missing shipments, a clogged sink, a motorcycle repair, refinishing cantina
dining room tables, a sign issue in the parking lot, an electrical problem in
the galley and a guy who kept running his mouth about Tina. An old
character, he meant no harm, but couldn’t shut up. Bandit showed him the
door.
As the sun started to slip into the Pacific, Clay wandered into the Cantina.
He took his required position on a stool at the end of the bar and ordered his
usual, an ice-cold Corona with a slice of lime and a side of guacamole with
warm chips.
Generally, a dour sort he smiled and shoved a pink slip across the bar top
toward Margaret. “I just bought a classic ’57 T-Bird for $500,” Clay said and
sipped his beer. “I’ve always dreamed of owning one of these classics.”
“Congratulations,” Margaret said smiling. She always smiled. Her warm
features were alluring and motivational. Only the most-sour bastards could
A thin 5’10” lad, he never exercised a day in his life. He had one girlfriend in
his twenties. When she peeled, she broke his heart. Cooked, he never
sought a relationship again. He was a man with permanent blues. But today
Just as dinner was being served Marko noticed the sound of another
motorcycle rolling into the parking area. This time is sounded late model,
Another big white outlaw sporting the same Crossed Pistons MC patch
approached the Cantina front door. Bandit opened the thick arched wooden
door. “Are you still cool,” Bandit said to Wolf and they hugged. He met him
in Daytona during the ‘80s.
“That depends on who you are speaking to,” Wolf said. “If it’s the law, I’m
“There’s another member here,” Bandit said.
“Probably in a similar situation,” Wolf said and pulled on his long, full, dark
beard. “Where is he?” Wolf was a monster of a man and foreboding as hell,
with a full head of long black, wavy hair and dark ringed, stern eyes.
“I’ll show you to his table,” Bandit said and led him to a protected corner
table. The two brothers got up and hugged as if long lost comrades, which
they were. Wolf was on the run from a murder charge and King was running
from everything else, from racketeering to prostitution. As it turned out, King
“I’ve known Bandit for a couple of decades,” Wolf returned. “I knew I could
take a breather here, and he would hook me up with reliable resources.
“They took the whole Chicago group down, and I slipped out of town,” King
said. “I had spent some time in Ojai a couple of years ago, and I like the
weather.”
“Tennessee?” King said, “That’s a coincidence.”
Just then another brother burst into the Cantina sporting rival club colors.
Bandit sensed an issue no one wanted. The member was older, not big, but
“What the hell are you doing here?” Bandit said taking him aside. “There’s a
potential problem here from the east coast.”
“I’m just here for a minute to pick up a car and blast back to the valley,” Bill
said. He was known as Wild Bill from over the Hill, never worked and never
will. “Can I leave my bike here for a couple of days?” Bill rode a quiet but
extremely fast BMW.
“Sure. Come with me,” and Bandit led him to the other side of the Cantina in
the bar. He found him a table. “I’ll get you some munchies and iced tea.
“A ’57 T-Bird,” Bill said. “I just bought it. Helluva deal.” Bill was known for his
Bandit motioned to Mandy to take care of Bill and returned to the Crossed
Piston members on the other side of the dining room. “He’s cool and not
“Yep,” Bandit said. “Fire engine red.”
“You may have an issue here,” King said. “These folks are also here to pick
King’s suspicious nature boiled. He turned to his brother. “Can I see your
“Sure,” Wolf said and reached for his wallet. He handed his Tennessee
“Fuck,” King said. “I’m the same guy.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Wolf snapped. King handed him his Tennessee
license and they were identical. “That sonuvabitch!”
“We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” King said, “and put a lot of distance
between us.”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Bandit said and looked down as his watch, 7:25. He
signaled to Marko. They hatched a plan and flew into action.
The Cantina was a 9500 square foot facility on a large Port of Los Angeles
wharf. A vehicle could drive off Harbor Boulevard into the back to drop off
goods, around the restaurant, past the Cantina garages to the front, past the
motorcycle-only parking and out through the parking area to the street
again, unencumbered.
Frankie, Marko and Bandit got into position to watch for the brilliant red
sports car to approach. Frankie stood outside the galley loading dock
entrance and prepared to let the others know of any action. Bandit and
At 7:30, like clockwork in pulled the rumbling ’57 T-Bird. It slipped past
Frankie, around the Cantina and stopped in front of the large, varnished
doors, and Wim whatever gleefully honked the horn. Sitting beside her was
another Asian with an automatic weapon beside his leg. For the first time,
she looked hot, is a satin embroidered cheongsam dress slit up the side.
Sporting just the right make-up, the tiny Asian fit the T-Bird like a perfect
jeweled stone in a wedding band.
Clay burst from his barstool, a tad tipsy and walked briskly toward the door
holding the pink slip desperately in his hand. Wild Bill bumped into him in his
effort to dart toward the door. Startled, Clay looked at the outlaw and Bill
looked at the skinny drunk and spotted the pink slip. He shoved Clay aside
and started to run toward the door, only to run into the young couple
scrambling for the exit.
Wild Bill saw every conceivable bad deal happen in his history of wheeling
and dealing, and nothing made him madder than to be on the wrong end of
Bandit stepped into the open, just a few feet from the car, made direct eye
contact with Wim, while approaching the car. She smiled, suspecting Bandit
knew nothing, but the closer he came she grew suspicious. Bandit, wasn’t
eyeing her new flamboyant appearance and got to the edge of the
The Cantina’s split arched doors burst open and out scrambled the two
members of the Crossed Pistons. They had to get as far from one another
as possible, quick. Unfortunately, they collided with the rival member and all
three, plus the unknowing Hispanic couple crashed into Bandit with his
fingers wrapped around the keys in the ignition on the polished dash.
face to face with Bandit and kissing him. Bandit spun and went to the
pavement tackled by the group. The T-Bird darted out of the parking lot as
Wild Bill hauled ass to his high-speed BMW and peeled out of the parking
area in her direction. The two other members jumped on their scooters and
disappeared. Wolf slipped Bandit $100 note. “It’s never dull around you.”
Clay returned to his barstool and ordered another Corona. “His Coronas are
on the house for a week,” Bandit told Margaret.
The young Hispanic couple started to argue over whose fault it was and
called Lyft to pick them up.
