Sheila and Bandit rode up to the Cantina together. She was a bundle of excitement and trepidation with a full stomach of Ruby?s Roadhouse chow. For the first time she rode LA freeways and faced a new clean life ahead. The excited staff waited in front of the massive Oak Cantina doors, as if lined up for inspection. The rotund Chinaman in all-white chef?s attire, little Frankie, his arms wrapped around a push-broom handle, Marko, his arms crossed in indignation, Nyla and Mandy playing grab ass and Tina with a waitress tray in hand, stood anxiously waiting and discussing the outcome.
Bandit pulled up on his King, dismounted and Marko took over pushing it around to one of the staff garages. He wanted out of the limelight. Sheila rode up right behind Bandit on the vintage XLCH and dismounted. Mandy and Tina ran to her side and the lot was filled with female banter. Bandit walked up to Nyla who beamed up at him. Without a word he pulled her gathered top away from her substantial cleavage and looked at her growing braless nipples. ?Where?s your bra?? He asked then bent and kissed her deeply. He left her before she could answer, nodded at the Chinaman and Frankie who immediately tried to grab his attention, and Bandit disappeared into the Cantina and upstairs to his office. ?I swept the whole parking lot boss,? Frankie attempted to spout as his boss vanished.
?We?ve got a ton to do,? Marko said to disperse the group. The biggest Cantina party night loomed just hours ahead and the crew dove into their chores. Marko worked with Johnny to set up parking lot security and to clear Bandit?s Cantina garage for extra bike storage. Too drunk bikers were welcome to store their bikes overnight and take a cab home.
The Chinaman, who couldn?t speak Spanish, and very little English, marched around his galley shouting orders. Somehow his, mostly Mexican crew, filtered through his Cantonese gibberish and took care of business. Chinaman, with the help of the little family, who lived outside the Cantina in a makeshift hut, mastered the art of tasty salsa and guacamole. Folks rode from the other side of Los Angeles just to have ice cold Coronas with fresh limes, poured into tall frozen mugs with warm chips, salsa and a spicy, buttery guacamole concoction that made folks come back for more.
It helped that the best Avocados in the world were grown just south of LA. The Cantina filled with the warm spicy aromas from the kitchen and drove the patrons hungry.
The Band stage was set, the New Years Eve DJ hauled in his equipment. Tina and Mandy decorated the tables, but there was something more than the air of new beginnings or a fresh year ahead. Nyla?s constant bubbly spirit was hindered as she inventoried her bar stock, polished the deep wooden surface and put sparkling glasses away.
Marko told Sheila where to park the classic XLCH and showed her to the changing room. Her locker was still intact, with a freshly cleaned uniform inside. She took a shower, put on fresh make-up and her spotless uniform. For the first time in her life she felt whole and part of a family who cared. She almost danced on air as she entered the dining room to be surrounded by Mandy and Tina. ?What happened?? Mandy said.
?Did they torture you,? Tina giggled as she wiped off a table and set up the party display.
?They treated me fine,? Sheila said, ?except for Rip. He was sorta rough on me.?
?Rip was rough on anyone and everyone,? Mandy said. ?Once, I started to get out of hand. A few razor sharp words from him and I walked straight. I knew better.?
?You glad to be back?? Tina said.
?You damn right,? Sheila said. ?It?s all new now and fresh.?
?Take it easy on yourself,? Mandy said. ?It?s the same tough world. Don?t let anything get you down and don?t be tempted.?
It was still early, a tad past 7:30 and folks started to pour in for dinner, music and the party atmosphere only the Cantina could offer. Bandit recently began to dial the Cantina in with old motorcycle art and some artifacts from the past. The cantina was warm, cozy and smelled inviting thanks to the Chinaman?s fare.
Marco was watching the parking lot and guiding bikers into the bike parking area surrounding the front door, when a sleek sport scar pulled in and a handsome black couple emerged. They looked out of place, as if they were headed for an upscale New Years banquet at the Hilton in downtown Long Beach but lost their way. The gentleman was dressed to the nines and the missus was as hot as a firecracker, with her boobs spilling out and gold and plenty of carats hanging from her dainty earlobes and dancing above her ample cleavage. They joked and giggled as they entered the front door.
Marko watched, indicated for Frankie to help several new riders entering the parking lot, and followed the couple inside. They danced inside, found a table, sat and immediately ordered a drink as if they had a reservation.
?Watch that two,? Marko instructed Nyla. ?I?ll be outside. Let me know what they do.?
?You got it,? Nyla said. She was the bouncy one, but also the mom of the bunch. She trained in close quarters combat with Marko on the weekend and he relied on her for security. Some people don?t get the essence of security, how important it is to do little things, to be observant and when the time is called move into action immediately. She knew the drill.
The couple, albeit out of place, giggled and told each other jokes, while other patrons poured in, took tables and enjoyed the Chinaman?s famous chips and salsa. Then Sheila bounced out from the kitchen carrying a platter of guacamole appetizers. She danced across the room toward her assigned area and delivered her thick, ornate ceramic platters decorated on the border with colored chips while a mound of fresh Guac sat like a colorful candle in the center. Each plate was carefully decorated and garnished with salsa and fresh slices of lime.
The black gentleman saw Sheila exit the kitchen. He glanced at his girl then followed Sheila across the dining room with quiet direct eyes. Sheila was a knockout, as sexy as a blonde surfer girl could be, but his gaze wasn?t didn?t contain the gawking eyes of a sexual predator. He looked at his girl, winked and they abruptly stood up. He dropped a twenty on the table and they departed as if they ate a mouthful of rancid dip.
The girl looked disturbed as if she didn?t know what was going on and the flashy, suddenly straight-faced dude yanked and flipped open his cell phone the second he cleared the doorway. Nyla reported the reaction to Marko and he followed their departure. Nothing was terribly out of order, but then again somewhat suspicious.
The night proceeded with Mariachi band members playing classical Mexican tunes as a Latin jazz ensemble set up on stage. Bandit liked R&B, the blues by King Cotton and the Kingpins, and Latin Jazz. He liked music that moved a woman?s soul. Folks laughed, and the DJ told jokes and kept the banter lively. It was the end of one wild year and the beginning of another.
The night was all splendor and high spirits, but Marko was on high alert. He made a rare call. It wasn?t the kind of call a man makes but once or twice in a lifetime. It?s the kind of call a brother makes that says, ?We need you here.? No questions asked. They just came.
Indian John, the longtime San Pedro Indian Chief rider rolled in on his jockey shift chopper, pulled up and took his position quietly. John endured throat cancer several years back, but his voice never returned. His dark graying hair was long and pulled into a ponytail. His long beard covered the scars on his neck.
Agent Zebra flew in on a blacked out Softail with moderate highbars and skidded to a stop. He eyed Marko across the lot and yanked open his vest. He pulled two 45 caliber automatics our of his heavy artillery fanny pack, flipped the safeties off and stuck them in his waistband. He was a madman, strong as an ox, ex-bullrider, weightlifter and weapons expert who trained attack dogs for celebrities and high profile execs.
The night rolled on until just after 11:50. A lowered, all-black van, with tinted windows, bright-chromed 21-inch wheels and rubber band tires bounced into the parking lot and pulled into a distant corner, immediately followed by a black limousine. Marko called Bandit in his office. ?I knew it,? Marko said. ?I told you, that broad was going to be trouble.?
?It wasn?t her,? Bandit said. ?Let?s deal with it outside.?
Frankie moved to the Cantina parking entrance on Harbor boulevard and barred the entrance with cones and a sign that said, ?Lot full?sorry.?
Marko buzzed Nyla on the walkie-talkie, ?Bar the door. No one comes out.?
Out of the Van side door jumped three sizeable thugs and two more from the cab. The Limo stopped at the front door and two big men stepped out followed by Dwight, the massive local drug dealer wearing an all-white tux and enough white gold chains to sink a dingy.
All the men were armed and mighty dangerous. The parking lot seemed suddenly empty except for the men in black carrying weapons. They nodded to one another, cocked their weapons, crouched and moved quickly toward the heavy oak front doors.
Together seven men in black and Dwight stormed the door to find it locked. One black man, over 250 pounds yanked on the door. When it wouldn?t budge, he leveled his automatic weapon and cocked it.
?That?s not a good idea,? Bandit said and all the men spun to face the voice machine gun pointed. It suddenly went completely dark in the parking lot. All the towering lot lights flickered off. The landscaping lights around the entrance died and the lights over the front door were extinguished. ?We had a deal, Dwight,? Bandit said. Only the glow of the moon flickered in Bandit?s green eyes. One of Dwight?s men thought he saw Bandit between two cars and raised his weapon. A snap, like the crack of a finely oiled bullwhip filled the air and somewhere in the parking lot a muzzle flash was visible for a split second. The weapon departed the thug?s hand and flew out of reach. He screamed in pain and shock.
?I won?t ask again motherfucker,? Bandit said. ?You can either leave for good and celebrate a new year, or swim in the oily channel.?
You won?t believe what happens next?
