22. THE SAVAGE TWILIGHT
Las Vegas: Wednesday 30th May 1990.
"Some crippled dude....."
That's how Wayne described me on the phone to Super Mario- Just as Lorenzo was pushing me out of the door to grab the sample....
I managed to shout "GINGER CUNT!" through the door as it was shut in my face by Talia.
In the lift going down, I really considered doing a runner and leaving the Jewish cunt to clean up his own mess........
Somehow I couldn't do it....
So?
So.... I'm sat here at the bar, drinking a bottle of Rolling Rock....... Waiting for the man.....
"You must be Tony...."
I turn to face him: Light Skinned, athletic build, about 6.2"; grey, silk suit; black shirt with a gold neck tie; expensive gold rimmed glasses.
"And you..... Must be Super Mario....."
He signals to the bartender for a drink and points to two other arrivals at the other end of the bar: Some sort tart in her mid forties with badly bleached hair and a low-cut black cocktail dress; what looks to be a fat redneck cowboy with a large stetson, big sideburns and a peppermint striped shirt unbuttoned down to his navel.... Sweat patches under his armpits......
Super Mario pushes a bottle along the bar to me:
"That is my business associate here in Las Vegas.... He's known as Cowboy Stan to his friends......"
Cowboy Stan now has his hand down the tarts dress and is squeezing her left breast with his hand- He looks like he could burst it like a balloon!
"Quite the couple," I laugh, thinking out loud......
Super Mario adjusts his glasses and turns his attention back to me:
"I'd be careful what you say, we both work for Marcus Williams..... Do you know who Marcus Williams is?"
I shake my head, Super Mario continues:
"Marcus runs the West Coast...... I represent Marcus in the pharmaceutical side of things, Cowboy Stan represents Marcus in Las Vegas security side of things......"
I nod..... Super Mario's calm nature and slow way of talking is actually quite unnerving; opposed to Lorenzo's aggressive shouting and posturing, I fully believe everything that's coming out of his mouth.....
Super Mario takes a sip from his glass and pulls a bag of white powder from his inside pocket:
"Let's get down to brass taxes......"
He chops two thick lines of cocaine onto the bar and passes me a rolled up fifty dollar bill:
"Hit it."
"I'd rather not to be honest, I'm not into drugs....... Why not give me the sample and I'll take it to Lorenzo," I say, attempting to hand back the rolled up fifty dollar note.
Super Mario's calm expression turns into a scowl:
"There could be anything in this fucking bag, you need to hit it to verify it's the dope...." Before I can answer, he's pushed something into my ribs- You can guess.... I do as I'm bloody well told.....
The only thing stopping a Colt '45 from penatrating Eve beneath my armpit is my shirt..... ..... I lower my head down and take the first blast with the fifty dollar bill.
BAAAAAAAAMNN!
I cough violently.... I try to breathe, gasping for air- Big, gulps of air........
FUCK!
OH SHIT!
FUCK!
My head is whizzing and popping...... Flashing lights..... I'm floating.......
Super Mario removes the gun from my ribs and starts laughing:
"Well? Pretty neat huh?"
I nod and take a mouthful of lager, to clear the lemon taste forming in the back of my throat......
Super Mario points to the second line:
"Finish the job....."
BAAAAAAAAMNN!!
The bar fades out for a second......
OHHHHH SHITT!!!
....White light blinds me and then...... I'm back in the bar......
I tilt my head back to clear my nasal passageways and then drop forward again; Cowboy Stan is now nuzzling the tarts neck.....
"QUITE THE COUPLE!" I laugh out loud. "LOVES YOUNG DREAM!"
Cowboy Stan stops the mating ritual and looks over at me.
I keep his gaze, addressing Super Mario:
"I think he heard me...."
"YOU GOTTA FUCKING PROBLEM PAL?!" Shouts Cowboy Stan, grabbing a beer bottle from the bar.
Super Mario jumps up from his bar stool, motioning to Cowboy Stan to sit down.
He turns back to me:
"Take the sample back to Lorenzo. Tell him I'll call the suite to arrange meeting point for the exchange to happen."
Cowboy Stan runs his finger across his throat; I roll my eyes back at him and turn to Mario:
"We done?"
....... As I'm wandering back through the casino, the cocaine buzz is turning into a sickly daze.
There's small pain forming in my temples as the lift cruises upwards through the building, dinging as it passes each floor......
As I re-enter the room, the accumulated smell of body odour and cigarette smoke hits me:
"We need to open a window."
Lorenzo storms over towards me:
"You got the sample or what hommes?"
I pass him the bag and sit down at the desk: "Where did you find such charming people?"
Lorenzo chops out two thick lines from the bag and clicks his fingers at Hymie:
"Hey! Motherfucker! Come and hit this shit hommes!'
Hymie jumps from his seat swoops down, snorting up the lines in seconds through a crumpled ten dollar bill:
"Whoooooo....... That's the shit n shit! Ohhh golly!"
Lorenzo cuts out more lines and now everybody- Bar me, is snorting lines from the mirror......
Wayne pulls a video cassette out of paper bag and turns to me:
"You like boxing Tony?"
I say nothing; I simply stare back at him.
Wayne makes me sick. He reminds me of one of those horrible gypsies that would come around yearly with the funfair back in Portishead: A shaved, ginger skinhead; his face covered in freckles; he has tattoo's creeping out of his shirt sleeves and collar.
The 5'4 wanna be gangster breaks first in his staring match and turns to face Hymie:
"You Superman's Worst Nightmare, huh?"
Hymie shrugs, Wayne continues:
"Y'all heard of The American Nightmare?"
"Bullshit!" Lorenzo spits, "that shit is just a rumour hommes! Niggaz be talkin' 'bout this nigga like he was real n shit!"
Hymie sits up straight, eye's wide open:
"Yeah..... I've heard of this guy. Nobody has been able to ever verify if he's a real person."
While I was grabbing the sample, Wayne got one his colleagues to bring a VHS player to the room; he pulls the cassette out of it's grubby, cardboard cover and loads the machine. The whole room is silent.
I suddenly realise the little ginger cunt has something on the tape he wants to show us.
Hymie pours more drinks and hands them out; Wayne turns up the volume on the television set.
There are only fuzzy lines on the screen for a few seconds, then the footage starts..... ..... There's a boxing ring in some sort of badly lit warehouse and a very noisy crowd.
Lorenzo lights the metal pipe again:
"What the fuck is this hommes?"
Wayne stares ahead, smiling like a cheshire cat.
On screen, a referee is stood in the corner of the ring in a white shirt and black bow tie; he's clutching a pistol in his right hand.
Two big, black boxers stand in the middle of the ring and stare at each other. One boxer is younger than the other and looks pretty normal. It's the other, older boxer who suddenly grabs mine and everybody else's attention.
"Shit! Mother of god!" blurts Hymie. "WHAT-THE-FUCK! IS... THAT!"
Lorenzo drops his pipe, his mouth wide open:
"No way..... Hommes.... Shit!"
"Jesus Christ," Talia says, "he looks like he eats children for breakfast!" The American Nightmare I can only estimate looks to be around 7 foot:
Twenty stone of pure, uncut muscle; every inch of skin covered in tattoo's; pure gold teeth; a red glass eye sitting his right eye socket.....
To say he's visually arresting is an understatement!
"WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT'S HEADSHOT JACKSON!" Shouts Hymie, knocking is drink onto the floor.
Wayne laughs like a James Bond villain:
"Y'all ready to watch some boxing?"
I'm pouring a glass of St Louis' finest, trying to get the lemony taste out of my throat- My gums are numb. I turn my attention back to the screen.
The referee is giving instructions to the fighters through a microphone dropped from the ceiling:
"S'real simple guys.... Do whatever the fuck you want! We want an exciting match! No pussy ass bullshit! The only people in the building with a gun is me..... And Bruno!"
The ref points to a broad, Italian looking guy in one corner of the ring:
"S'real simple...... You stop when I tell you to stop! If you don't... Me or Bruno will make you stop... Permanently...."
The two boxers go back to their respective corners: Headshot has a thin, nervous black boy with milk bottle glasses in his corner; The American Nightmare has nobody- I doubt he needs anybody....
The ref shouts through the mic:
"OKAY MOTHERFUCKERS! COME ON OUT AND SLING DICK LIKE A GANGSTER!!"
The crowd roars and the two fighters come racing out, dropping bombs on each.... It's a regular boxing match- Back and forth, back and forth.
The American Nightmare seems to have the upper hand, bullying Headshot against the ropes with powerful blows; Headshot is managing to keep him at bay with brutal body shots and near miss blows to the jaw- Thus the name I expect....
"COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!! C'MON HEADSHOT!! KNOCK THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT!" Screams Hymie, punching the air with his fists.
Lorenzo blasts the pipe again, eyes glued to the screen:
"The American Nightmare is a fuckin' beast hommes!!"
The first two rounds fly by- The ref ends each round by pointing his pistol at the two boxers:
"GET BACK TO YOUR CORNERS! BOTH YOU ASSHOLES!"
Talia lights a joint, passing it to Sarah:
"Ghad, this fight is incredible! Headshot is getting his ass whooped! When was this?"
"'Bout three years ago," Wayne replies, eyes glued to the screen. "Before he took the belt from Tyson in Japan.... Before he fucked up Buster Douglas in Vegas..."
I finish my drink and pour another:
"This is horrible....."
Nobody bats an eyelid as the fight descends into chaos- Both fighters are bleeding heavily, there's claret sprayed across the ring canvas.
"OH SHIT! KICK HIS ASS HEADSHOT! KICK HIS FUCKIN' ASS!" Hymie shouts- After sniffing another two lines of cocaine.
"Why doesn't the ref stop this? This fight has gone far enough," I ask, tiring of the bloodbath unfolding on the TV.
"This is a smoker! Duh!" Wayne replies, eyes still glued to the television set. "It will go as far as it needs to."
Both fighters are now on the floor- The American Nightmare is on top of Headshot, pummeling him. The skinny black fella in Headshots corner is screaming commands in what sounds like German:
"VORAUS! PLATZ! PLATZ!"
The whole room jumps up:
"OOOOOHHHHHHH!"
Headshot drives an uppercut that sends The American Nightmares neck snapping back violently- He drops down on top of Headshot like a dead body.
The referee is counting, pistol pointed at Headshot:
ONE!
Headshot manages to push the unconscious American Nightmare off himself....
TWO!
The skinny black kid is shouting to Headshot:
"GET UP! C'MON MAN! YOU GOT THIS!"
THREE!
Headshots on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his face onto the ring below him.
FOUR!
Headshot grabs the bottom rope, trying to lift his right leg.
FIVE!
"JESUS FUCKIN' CHRIST!! HIS FACE!! HE LOOKS LIKE A FUCKIN' CABBAGE PATCH DOLL N SHIT!!" Shouts Hymie, lifting his beer bottle in the air.
SIX!
Talia accepts the pipe from Lorenzo:
"GHAD! HIS FACE! HE LOOKS LIKE DROOPY!"
SEVEN!
Headshot rises to his feet; the skinny black kid wraps a towel around his head and face.
Through the kids bottle bottomed glasses, I can see he's trying not to cry.... Poor fucker........
I light a fag, feeling ill:
"This is all making me sick... I need to rest."
Sarah walks over and sits on my lap, putting her arms around me- She smells lovely:
"Hey....... I got something Tone......"
She reaches into her bra and produces a white pill:
"Take this.... It will chill you out....."
I would never take a tablet from anyone, but she slides it into my mouth and smiles:
"This will make you feel better...." Down it goes....
She gets up and pours us both a drink- The rest of them are snorting more coke....
I need to rest.....
...... This is all bullshit.
I stare at my typewriter..... Inspect the page......
Sarah massages neck with her fingers and I can feel myself unwind completely.... I want this moment to last forever........