Rude Boy USA (5 page)

John frequented the bars and areas around town at night as a way to escape the stress of home life, work, and the struggle to bring in new business and to scout new recruits. He felt he could easily approach the best workers while they were helpless, intoxicated, and out of options. He was not concerned with how long he spent at the bar because he and Edina were fighting again. He was sleeping in his backup apartment away from their marital home. This often happened, as he would make her mad (sometimes on purpose) when she got on his nerves, and she would demand that he leave. Fights are an ongoing cycle between the two, so John became a staple around the city. He had a good rep with bars around most of the city’s hotspots because he tipped well. He tipped the bartenders with money; they tipped him with women to take back to his apartment. His favorite bar was a small club called P. J. Clarke’s on East Fifty-Fifth. He frequented that bar the most because it had a great atmosphere and a beautiful variety of female customers.

John did not become intoxicated often, but when he did, he always managed to make it home without incident, until that night. While at the bar, John briefly noticed a man staring at him disapprovingly in the back, but he looked away because he did not know the man. He thought nothing of it and continued to socialize. John flirted with the women as usual and attempted to pick up a leggy brunette woman, but she decided not to take him up on his offer. Women did not reject John very often. This night, John struck out and decided to go back to the apartment, as it was close to
midnight, and he wanted to get some sleep before the next day. He had plans that he wanted to start back at the office. As he waited outside the bar for a cab, he stood alone. No cabs picked him up although he waited for twenty minutes. Many of them passed him but did not stop. He decided to walk down a few blocks to a busier spot so he could get a ride home. He made it to Sixty-Second Street before he jumped by a man.

“Where’s my money, motherfucker?” the person yelled at John while pushing him from behind. John turned around and noticed immediately that this was the same guy from the bar. John had never been good with names, but his photographic memory was immaculate. John had never seen the man except for that brief glance, and he did not know what money the man was demanding. The guy was not one of his clients, but the attacker knew who John was. The assailant told John that his people owed him money, and he wanted his payment immediately. John assured the person that he had no details of the transaction. The attacker was one of those people who dealt with Bernie and Ben directly, and they never discussed him with John or anyone else in the group. He was one of the jurors whom Bernie had promised to pay off to keep Ben out of prison. Bernie kept the identities of top clientele secret from the other men. He did so for their protection because these clients dealt directly with law enforcement, the courts, and specific cases. Bernie would buy out jurors as favors for some of his friends and clients if necessary. He did this for a small fee. Somehow, the client
that was involved in Ben’s case knew about everyone else at Chimera. Ben was supposed to mail this man a check for his services, but he never got around to doing it. The man had been waiting months for his payment and had begun threatening Chimera about going to the police with the jury tampering, even if it got him in trouble.

The attacker punched John, and John hit him in the back. The attacker picked up a brick that was in the street and hit John in the head with it, knocking him to the ground. When John’s intoxication kept him from getting up quickly enough, the attacker began kicking and punching him some more. John had never felt scared before, but he was worried that for the first time, he was losing a fight, and the consequences of this loss would be dangerous for him, he could die right there on the ground. A few people on the street were watching the bout, but they did not stop; they did not want to be involved.

After a busy night at the club, where she had to fight off yet another round of awkward flirting from Dr. Smith and others, Celia decided to walk home with Rose, which was something they often did to look out for each other. On their way home, they both heard a commotion in the street, which was not uncommon at the time. The neighborhood they lived in was not posh but middle class. The area was not immune to some of the street violence that occurred in Manhattan. The girls knew that they were taking risks by walking home at that time of night, and they sometimes took cabs if they were alone, even if it was just a few blocks.
As they walked closer to their front stoop, they stumbled upon two men fighting, with one clearly winning. One of the men was kicking the other one while he was down on the ground. When the kicker noticed Celia and Rose walking close to them, he took off and left the other man lying in the street moaning in agony and covered in blood. Celia wanted to go over to the man to see if he was OK. Rose, who was apprehensive, attempted to discourage Celia from walking too close to him, as they did not know why the men had been fighting. As far as Rose was concerned, they could have been gangbangers or robbers. Rose wanted to go in and call the cops instead. Celia walked over and knelt next to the mysterious bloody man. She told Rose to stop being mean and to get an ambulance to help him. Rose did so but kept an eye on Celia from the window while on the phone.

As Celia knelt over him, the man tilted his head over, looked at Celia, and gave an approving smirk—the same smirk he always gave when he saw an attractive woman. A broken nose, busted lip, bloody face, excruciating pain and some cracked ribs did not stop him from trying to pick up a woman. His never turned off his chick radar. He complimented her beauty, as she still had on her makeup from the club, sans the bunny ears. He could not see the rest of her body because she was wearing a closed trench coat and kitten heels. Because of her positioning under the streetlight, Celia had perfect lighting, making her easier to see with his squinty, injured eyes. Celia reassured the man that help was on the way and that she would be there for him until the
paramedics arrived. As he was asking for her name, the sirens blasted loudly and help finally arrived. The police and first responders asked for Celia’s identification, and she informed them that she did not know this man, but she stayed to help when she saw him in distress. When the police officer looked at John, he immediately noticed who the man was and told him that everything would be OK; he would take care of everything. The officer thanked her for her help and reassured her that the injuries did not seem life-threatening upon initial inspection. If she called the hospital later on, they would update her on his condition. She never got the mystery man’s name, and he never got hers. Once they put him in the ambulance and drove away, Celia walked to her apartment with a sense of accomplishment. She did not check on the man, as she did not know which hospital they sent him. She just hoped for the best and moved on.

A few weeks later, John returned to work after a brief hospital stay and temporarily moved back to the marital home. He needed Edina to take care of him and cook him meals, as he was not able to do so himself while he healed. He could have taken more time off, but he did not want to spend another twenty-four hours straight with his wife, as she was beginning to push him for sex and attention. He was not into it but partook in it to keep the meals coming and to keep some peace in the home until he healed. He did so because he needed a release and it had been some time since he had been with any woman. John was vulnerable, and Edina took full advantage of him. John told her that random thugs
robbed him, even though he knew that Bernie and Ben had caused the attack by maintaining poor bookkeeping and defaulting on a payment. Bernie and Ben shared responsibility for the funds in the company. Bernie had the most power in monitoring how funds were distributed. Ben kept the books for tax purposes and made sure that the numbers added up correctly and that people were compensated for their work. He was the pseudo accountant.

John’s incident was one of the very few times he found himself in trouble while working for Chimera. Each time something happened, this being the worst, he would take a lesson from it. This quality made him stand out from the rest. John was determined never again to be caught in a compromising manner. This incident would be one of the last times it happened to him. While John was on hiatus, Bernie, Jerome, and Ben had been keeping Chimera afloat. They eventually paid the man who jumped John, but not before Jerome and Ben returned his beating to him twofold. After that, Bernie, Jerome, and Ben kindly asked him to leave the city with his money and life. The man complied. If one of the four cores of Chimera was hurt, they all went in to defend his honor. John was often the one fighting for the others, whom he considered his brothers, even Ben. This time, they stepped in to help John.

Bernie had friends in high places, and that included Hugh Hefner. Mr. Hefner wanted Bernie and his crew to come by and check out the happening Midtown location of his Playboy Club, which had become the spot in the city to
be seen if you were a high roller and big name. Bernie had been too distracted with work and the issues with John to take advantage of the offer, but he decided to do so after the management also offered him, John, Jerome, and Ben keys to the club and their bottled table. Bernie felt that a trip and membership to the club would boost morale in the group. Bernie offered John the first key as a reward for his troubles, and John decided to go for a preview before everyone else.

John was ready to find a new bar home. He felt that if something went terribly wrong in his life, he should cut all ties with everything associated with it within reason. He felt that Clarke’s was tainted. He did not know whether other bar patrons had it out for him and the group. He was 80 percent healed from his injuries and was ready to get back out there and mingle. He was not prepared to start sleeping with women just yet, but his eyes worked just fine. The Playboy Club appealed to him since it had every type of woman he liked under one roof. The place was full of eye candy, and he could not resist.

After John had checked in, he was seated at a table set aside just for Chimera’s arrival. The bunnies added his name to the members-in-attendance wall for the very first time. The wall had each member’s name or company engraved on a sliding card, prominently displayed so everyone could view who was in the crowd for the evening. All of the bunnies’ colorful suits overwhelmed him, and immediately his spirits rose. The club was buzzing that night, as they had a special musical guest. Tom Jones, a tall, handsome, and young Welsh crooner
was at the club, and he agreed to sing one song with his band. The bunnies were excited to see and meet Tom Jones, as many of them were new fans of his. As Hugh Hefner took the stage to announce Tom’s performance, the crowd became excited, and the Bunnies and patrons hit the floor to dance. Tom’s band started playing the music and singing “Chills and Fever,” to the delight of the crowd of bunnies and patrons doing the twist, watusi, and boogaloo.

Instead of getting up, John decided to sit back and enjoy his drink and take in the excitement as he would if he were at his old spot. The Playboy Club was just a short distance away from Clarke’s. As Tom Jones crooned, he noticed the face of one of the bunnies that were dancing provocatively with other bunnies on the dance floor. John could not take his eyes off her; as the only brown bunny there that night, she stood out. With his immaculate facial recognition, he remembered her after only a few seconds. The mystery bunny with the lovely face was the same woman who had saved his life on the street just two months before. “Well, I’ll be damned; it’s her,” He smirked his signature expression, in which one side of his smile went up higher than the other. He had used that same smirk when he first saw her, and it returned as he lit up like a lightbulb. His eyes scanned every curve of her body as she danced and shook her ample chest and fluffy tail. For the first time, his heart skipped a beat. He watched her as the song ended and the crowd offered a thunderous applause. She went back over to the bar to pick up drink orders, including his.

When Celia made it to John’s table, she greeted him as she would any other keyholder—professionally. She did not recognize him, as his face had mostly healed from his injuries and it was no longer covered in blood. She did make a mental note of how tall and handsome he was. Celia had always had a thing for tall, athletic, full-lipped, tan-colored men. John looked at her with a grin that turned up at the left corner of his mouth. She found him sexy and gorgeous.
He could be one of the New York Knicks
, she thought. She couldn’t show him her thoughts. She had to remain professional.

“You’re a bunny,” he said to her. Celia made note of his accent, which had a drawl to it.

“Yes. What gave it away?” she asked in a sweet but “OK, Captain Obvious” way.

“So you work here, and you save lives. That’s impressive,” John told her.

Celia did not immediately recognize what he was saying. “Well, yes, I guess you can say that we bring life to people while they are here.” John continued smirking and stood up to extend his hand to kiss hers and formally introduce himself. He towered over her, all six feet two inches of him. Celia only stood about five feet five inches in midsize heels. She was a petite but shapely woman. Celia reluctantly extended her hand to him, as touching keyholders were restricted; she hoped that no one noticed the exchange.

“I’m sorry if I seem apprehensive. It’s just that it’s against the rules to physically touch keyholders. I don’t want to get
in trouble, and someone is always watching,” Celia told John. He understood.

He told her, “I just wanted to extend my gratitude and say thank you for saving my life in the street a while ago.” Celia stood there in shock, as she didn’t realize that the man at the table was the same guy from the street.

“My goodness, you’re OK, and you look different,” she told him. “I’m happy that you’re OK, and you look well.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked her.