A Long Ride Read online

  We walked up the ramp to the sixth level, concrete pillars like enormous sticks of chalk in the fluorescent lighting. The vault door was open, blue sky and puffy clouds the first thing visible as our just-had-an-orgasm steps floated us onto the freshly swept roof. The sun was bright, though not hot. Perfect afternoon. My crew plus Perry, the Elder Dragon and Big Guns sat at the picnic tables between the two sheds, the canopy rolled back to allow the autumn sunlight to lend its healthy rays to the cookout. It was the first time we've used the area for company, and I now knew why Blondie insisted on more than one table. She was planning on something like this all along, I thought with a suspicious glance at her.

  Buff paint and polished wheels shot glares into our eyes from my Hayabusa, Blondie's truck and Ace's and Big Guns' imports. Classic rock jammed at a low volume from the open doors of Perry's '49 GMC. Our coach's brother stood in front of my gas grill, stainless steel lid open, steaks, hamburgers and hot dogs sizzling. Thick meaty scents swirled around the tables. Shocker, sitting next to her man on a bench, held their baby daughter in her lap with one hand while helping her cut a hot dog with a fork. The not-quite two year old had chubby cheeks, brunette pigtails, and a cute pug nose just like her mother's.

  “Barbie-Q dog!” the little girl said, and stabbed a chunk of Oscar Meyer off a paper plate, dipped it in “Barbie-Q” sauce, then painted the shoulder of her purple dress and both cheeks before getting it in her mouth. The fork looked huge in her itty-bitty pink fingers.

  Shocker yayed her daughter's success, then looked at me and Blondie like she was about to say something. She gasped in surprise instead, looking down at the sauce-loaded hot dog her kid had dropped onto the front of her tight white running shirt. Blondie thought it was the cutest thing and ahh'd. Bobby and Big Guns wisely refrained from voicing their humor while the two older men boomed laughter. The Shocker glowered in their direction. Ace took his daughter while the girl-beast stood with arms out to her sides and stomped off to the bathroom spitting curses to herself.

  I looked at my girl, jerked my head at Shocker's tense back, You want that in your life?

  She cut her eyes away from me, Whatever!

  Blondie took a spot next to her stocky Viet pal while I slipped onto the bench next to Anh Long. They were paying attention to the grill master. Perry's white Hot Rod Magazine shirt and khaki shorts fluttered in the gentle gusts of sea breeze as he told a story. I grabbed a paper plate from a stack next to the burgers and fixings, listening to his rumbling tone as I assembled my grub.

  “…And I got pulled over! I didn't realize how fast I was going,” he said, sunglassed face alternating between his task of turning meat and looking at us. “So I stopped and the cop came to my window. 'What's the rush?' the asshole said. I hung my arm and head out the window to get a good look at the kid.” He looked at Anh Long. “He was an overzealous muscle head with a high-and-tight and aviator shades.”

  Anh Long grunted. “Police academy cookie-cutter.”

  That made us laugh. Perry stuck out his under bite in a grin, continued. “I told him, 'Look, I'm a nurse. I was called to the ER for an emergency. You're gonna have to hurry this up.' ” He twirled the tongs in his immense hand. “Someone could lose their life.” He acted out the cop's body language, hand on gun, face skeptical. “But the guy wouldn't listen. Asshole acted like I was lying.”

  “Were you?” I said before inhaling a quarter of my cheeseburger in one bite.

  “No,” he rumbled, scowling. “The cop wanted to know what I did at the hospital. By that time I was mad. So I told him, 'I stretch assholes.' ”

  Ace snickered. Blondie looked at the baby, deciding whether to scold him for cursing in front of the child. Her dislike of cops took precedence and she stopped fidgeting and listened to our coach's bro' finish his story. I burped slightly and said, “So then he wanted to know what the hell you meant by that.”

  Perry nodded. “I told him, 'I use a finger at time, then a hand at a time. I stretch and stretch until the assholes are open to a full six feet.' ” He held his hands apart wide.

  The Elder Dragon and Big Guns both looked confused, as if this was some kind of Caucasian humor they didn't understand. I had stopped chewing, unable to see where this was going. Ace was rapt, not seeming to notice his girl sit down next to him and take the baby back.

  Perry tongued several hot dogs onto a large plate next to the grill. “This guy knew I was pulling his leg. He was mad. We were both mad. He asked me, 'What the hell do you do with a six-foot asshole?' ” Perry pulled down his sunglasses and looked at us over the rims. “I told him, 'We assign them a badge and a patrol car.' ”

  The two Asian men swayed with laughter, heads nodding vigorously. The punch line caught the rest of us so off-guard we were hit with full-fledged giggle-cramps-wheeze attacks. Abs burned. Eyes watered. Food was dropped. I forgot I had burger in my mouth and choked on it. That was possibly the best verbal punch in a cop's face I've ever heard.

  Anh Long was the first to get his wits back. He gestured at Perry in a manner that seemed to convey, Thank you for the entertainment. Now please listen to my story. He beckoned to the rest of us, his drawn down mouth and darkening eyes making us feel things were about to get serious.

  The old man leaned forward on his elbows, glanced at his Em Hung. Big Guns looked back uneasily. Anh Long said to us, “I have many things I need to tell you, some of it recently learned. Though first I must thank you on behalf of the temple.” He clasped his hands together and gave us a slight bow. “Those troubled young men could have caused more harm to our people had you not assisted our security.” He motioned a hand at Big Guns.

  I shrugged, No problem. “The East End Boys were overdue for a tune-up. It was only a matter of time before we paid them a visit, anyhow.”

  He waved off my nonchalance. “You risked your lives.”

  “They deserved every busted eye and fractured bone,” Shocker said, venomous. The baby picked up on her sudden shift in mood and began crying. Ace took her, shushing gently, rubbing her back.

  I smiled at the memory. We were Baddists among Buddhists, the unmerciful lords of combat tearing into the thug scrubs like prime dire wolves attacking a pack of mangy coyotes. Though they submitted in terror, I knew there was unfinished business. Which we'll handle, I mused with an arrogant lift of my head.

  “Humph,” Anh Long put a finger to his lips, looking between me and the girl-beast. “Whenever possible, I try to determine what caused the behavior of those that offend me. With understanding comes forgiveness, and life moves on without being held back by vendettas. The East End Boys are dinghies being towed by a ship with an unstable captain. Diep has limited control of himself, and his direction of the Tiger Society's lower rungs reflects that.”

  “Where is he, anyway?” Bobby said from behind a tall glass of iced tea. His bright yellow tank top matched his stretch pants, body builder wear that glowed over his dark skin.

  “We'll get to that,” Big Guns told him.

  The Elder Dragon nodded to Big Swoll with a smile, please be patient. He said to me, “Everyone was, ah, intrigued by your style of dragon dancing.” He pulled at the neck of his shirt, an oriental-style button-up, white with no collar.

  “Godzilla dancing,” I clarified.

  “Godzilla? Well that explains the trash barrels,” Anh Long muttered.

  “I told Miss Nguyen that was part of the show.” Blondie looked apologetic. She turned evil eyes on me. “Before I picked up the mess his showmanship left.”

  “Hey, the tail did that. Tho helped clean up.” I showed everyone my #1 Mr. Good Guy face. “My goal was to get everyone's blood pumping.” I put a hand on my chest, all innocence. “I feel like I did my job.”

  “Pfff.” Shocker wagged her ponytail. “You pumped more than someone's blood.”

  I showed her all my teeth. “Yes, I did.”

  “Regardless of your pumping tactics,” Anh Long said smiling at Shocker. He looked at me. “We believe
it was well-intentioned, and quite entertaining. Sometimes a break in tradition is what everyone needs.” He hummed a nod for emphasis.

  I mugged the girls, Ha! What do you know?

  Everyone ate slowly, sipping tea while the head of the Dragon Family stood to stretch his back. He clasped his hands behind him, addressing us all. “Diep is a bad enemy to have. Make no mistake. He will be around again to cause more trouble.”

  “He's in Houston right now,” Ace said. I noticed his hand rubbing the side of his leg, caressing a large Velcro pocket containing a modified Galaxy Note. He glanced at Bobby, who frowned, Why didn't you tell me?

  Anh Long looked thoughtful. “Our source says he will be in New Orleans imminently, and will send a team of enforcers to Biloxi to search for you.” He rubbed a scar on one of his long brown fingers. “Diep does not wish to return because the police seek him for questioning.”

  “Is your source reliable?” Shocker asked. “Are they close to Diep?”

  Anh Long gave an eyes-closed-smiling nod. “Reliable information is what wins the war. The Tiger Society may win battles with guns and muscles, but information, used strategically, will ultimately triumph.”

  The “source” was apparently news to Big Guns. He looked at his Anh Hai beseechingly. “Anyone I know?” The old man nodded without elaborating. Big Guns' jaw muscles bulged.

  I pointed at the girl-beast. “Anyone she punched?” She twisted her lips, narrowed her eyes, Take this more seriously, idiot. I pointed my chin at her, swiped the back of my fingers under my jaw, flicking them in her direction.

  “One of Diep's personal security, yes,” Anh Long said to me. “I believe you have met. He has been ordered to fight for Diep. That is why Em Hung has been forbidden from shooting-to-kill. We have other men in their organization, men with families.” He held his ancient fists up. “We can hurt them with these.” He made a finger pistol. “But we must risk bullets only when absolutely necessary.”

  Big Guns showed his displeasure at being forbidden from killing the enemy. Shocker stroked her baby's soft hair, smiling down at her. In a pleasant, almost musical voice, she said, “Diep is welcome to try again.” Somehow, her melodious tone made the statement more profound. The baby giggled up at her silly mommy.

  “He will,” Anh Long told her. “Diep is stubborn, and very vengeful. His treachery is notorious. And he does not hesitate to pursue those he feels crossed the Tiger Society. Everyone who has confronted him is either dead or under his thumb, paying for it with blood or sweat. He will bide his time, devise a plan, and attack when you least expect it. The man is unstable, but very cunning.”

  “Has the Two-Eleven or OBG tried to move in on D'Iberville again?” Blondie wanted to know, tapping a napkin to her lips. She stood to gather plates and refill drinks.

  Anh Long shook his head. “They will try again one day, maybe. The extortion rackets weren't viewed as very important to the Tiger Society. They were just something for the thang ca chon to do.”' He shrugged. “Without a competent captain, the Two-Eleven and Oriental Baby Gangsters are incapable of orchestrating a successful racket. Their intimidation methods are wasteful, very inefficient. The upper echelons of the Tiger Society make use of them but allow them their own exploits without much supervision.”

  “What's their primary income?” I asked. “If they aren't making anything from the loan-and-take game, where is all their cash coming from? Those boys have more than pocket-change.” I finished off my burger and sucked down some tea, watching the old man carefully.

  The Elder Dragon looked disturbed. He glanced at the baby in a way that made my spine abruptly straighten. He said, “About half of their income is from distribution of cocaine and ecstasy. The other half is from trafficking.”

  Blondie frowned. “I didn't know they were drivers.”

  “No, Babe.” I glanced at him, at the baby. “I think he means human trafficking.”

  He confirmed my assumption by not correcting me. Shocker and Bobby took the news badly. She unconsciously put a protective arm around the little girl. Big Swoll blew out an angry breath and stood. Walked over to the roof's edge and stared down at the highway and beach. My girl and I just looked at the old man. He said, “I knew Diep's father in Vietnam. Never known another man so immoral. He was stealing and selling children to sex houses in Thailand.” He looked like he wanted to spit. “It is known that Diep was exposed to this.”

  “Exposed?” I said. “Was he abused?”

  He nodded as if sick. “When Diep was six, his father sold him to Thai pirates.”

  Blondie gripped my arm and gasped. Damn. Suddenly I felt bad for the sorry MFer. And something told me this tale was going to get much worse. “Pirates,” I muttered. “That explains his temper.” I rubbed my leg, recalling Diep's psycho soccer kick.

  “I think the loss of his schlong is the reason for that,” Ace said. “They made him a eunuch sex slave for the men on the boats.”

  Anh Long looked at the geek in surprise. “You are well-informed.”

  “I found some transcripts from Immigration Control, from the eighties,” he replied. His girl looked at him, Why didn't you tell me? He shrugged, Sorry.

  I'll have to talk to him about communicating as a crew, I mentally sighed.

  The Elder Dragon said, “Some Vietnamese refugees told very sad stories to elicit sympathy from U.S. officials, hoping to get citizenship. However, most of the stories were true. Diep had it worse than most of us that left Asia, but has it better than any of us in America. He was taken in by a wealthy family and went to college.”

  “What did he major in?” I inquired. “Punk Motherfuckerism?”

  The old man frowned at me. “Business.”

  Everyone liked my quip except the girl-beast. She sighed exasperation, then said to Anh Long, “What about you? Last night you told me you escaped the Vietnamese Communists in your boat. Did your family leave with you?”

  He nodded, cleared his throat. Intertwined his fingers on top of the table and stared at the condensation beading on the glass in front of him. “My wife and I knew if we didn't leave we would die in Vietnam. We also knew we would be killed if they caught us leaving. The thought of true freedom trumped thoughts of consequences, and we liquidated all our possessions for a bar of gold, which I hid on my boat. We packed only necessities, hoping the little food and water we brought would last for the two-day trip to Thailand. Six other people from our village came with us. Two were children. Orphans. One was an old woman; she nearly died from the stress of hiking to the boat. Two were men my age, one with a young wife. We left one night and got away. The next day, far away from any land, we were attacked by Thai pirates. Everyone knew this may happen. It was common, unfortunately. They beat me and the other men badly. They tore up our engine and took our food and water. Then they took two of our women.”

  He cleared his throat again. “I was unconscious when they took my wife off the boat. When I came to, I didn't know what had happened. The old woman was bathing my head wounds. The others were sobbing. I could hear screams on the wind.” His voice broke. “My wife's screams. She was fighting them as they raped her. Then they shot her and her terror was silenced.”

  We were stunned by his story. He took a drink, we took a breath. Then he continued, “The current pushed her body back in our direction. I used the anchor and rope to pull her in, fighting off the others to do so. I was scaring the children. Hysterical with grief.”

  I glanced at the baby clinging to Shocker's neck, eyes wide and frightened as she watched the old man, sensitive to the grown-ups' mood. You're scaring the children now, I thought. Then, Damn, at least the pirates didn't steal those orphans.

  Shocker looked extremely sorry for having asked about his escape story. She was unlikely to inquire about the fate of the second woman they took. Anh Long looked at her with new emotion, eyes watery. The uncharacteristic display made everyone highly uneasy. Voice choked, he whispered, “When I pulled my wife into the boat her legs were
missing.”

  He lay his head on his hands, neck tense, holding back a sob. The girls teared up, walking over to console him. He waved them off, then gestured to the stoic Big Guns to say something while he recovered.

  I looked at my girl, at her legs that had just been wrapped around me.

  What would you do if a school of sharks ate them? my subconscious dared to ask.

  I shuddered in answer.

  The intense tale had everyone on edge. Shocker wiped her eyes and made happy mommy sounds to ward off the crying fit the baby's face foretold. Big Guns looked at me like, Shit man. That's life. He was Ged-up in baggy jeans and a dark red Hilfiger long-sleeve, gold rope chain and rings blinging as bright as his silver grill. He was all business, refocusing our party on what was relevant. In his slightly gruff accent he said, “Diep had a bad childhood, but he gets no pass for the way he is now. He's had many chances to make things right, but he's incapable. No ac lam,” he's evil. He took out a pack of Newports, lit one and inhaled with a contemplative expression.

  Ace was impatient for more information. The hard drive of his mind whirred behind his eyes, one squinted with abnormal intelligence. He was eager to start researching our next job. “Tell us more about the trafficking,” he implored the gangster.

  Big Guns looked around to see if everyone was done processing the last exchange. We turned to him. He said, “In the last four years the number of missing children on the Coast has risen. They are mostly illegals, unknown to the authorities, so they aren't missed. The parents are illegals so they rarely file missing persons reports.”

  The girls showed him faces that strongly disagreed with the children not being missed. He waved his cigarette placating. “They aren't missed by the government, who does nothing because they aren't citizens.”

  “Uncle Sam only makes an effort for U.S. citizens because they fear bad press,” I said, a taste of anarchy curling my tongue.

  He nodded seriously. “Most of the kids I'm speaking of are Viet and Mexican, some of them just babies. What's interesting is another number that's risen at the same time.” Grunt. “Diep's bank account.”