excerpt
He was making his way to the bar when a stranger blocked his
advance.
– What you want? the man said. One eye had been inexpertly
sewn shut. Dis a private establishment, pilgrim.
Redman’s muscles twitched. He enjoyed a good row, it was a
Yukon sport, but on his first night out? Besides, the fellow had
shoulders broad as a linebacker. His fists were the size of five-pin
bowling balls.
– You best turn around, mon.
Redman feigned resignation, retreated a few steps — but then
pushed into the crowd. Convinced he’d lost Cyclops, he slipped into
a vacant seat and ordered a beer.
A few drinks later a girl approached his table and began dancing.
Her plump black thighs glistened with perspiration. She had breasts
and lips women like Marge would pay to replicate. Her hair was a
tangle of dreadlocks.
Ace jumped to his feet and began to move.
Boom-boom-ba-boom . . .
Oh, yeah.
The girl led him deeper into the crush of dancers. And then he
was being nudged into the washroom, its only exit blocked. The girl
was waved away.
– What I tell you, mon, huh? Dis place not for your kind.
There were machetes and at least one pistol tucked into a waistband.
All attached to four very large and fierce Caribes. The Cyclops
appeared to be their leader.
– You a crazy motha, know that, pilgrim?
The heat and the booze had caught up to Redman. He was out of
gas and the odds were against him. So he approached the man with
one eye squeezed shut and played his only hand.
His name, he said, was Johnny Cool, and you bet he needed a job. It
seemed most able-bodied men on the island did. He was in the lobby
sucking on sugar cane when Redman stepped from the elevator the
next morning.
– The dancer, she yours? he asked.
– Dey all mine.
– Have her checked out. I’ll want to see the certificate.
Manolis Aligizakis 