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“Any time,” I reply.
We both exit the car and walk toward the entrance of a small, windowless building just a few yards away. There’s a sign above the door that reads M.C. Grill. A broken headlight with half of its glass missing is mounted next to the sign.
The dim nightclub lighting has me barely able to see anything when we first enter. I’m immediately hit with the stench of cigarette smoke and stale beer. I follow Uncle Suki to the bar set along the center of the right side wall. As my eyes gradually adjust, I take notice of the small stage in the back.
"So, what's this new girl's name, anyway?" I ask my uncle.
"Lola. She's pretty cute! I made sure to tell her that too," he says
"Really, Uncle?!" I chastise him.
"Oh, come on, Mari. Don't give me such a hard time. I was just building up her confidence and having a little fun at the same time. I can't help it if I enjoy what I do for a living."
"Mhmm," I say, side-eyeing him.
"You’re the guy who left his card here last night, right?" asks a gray, pear-shaped man behind the bar as we approach.
"Yeah, that's me. Last name's Yumiko. Sorry for the trouble," my uncle replies.
"No trouble at all. I just need your signature here," the bartender says as he slides a pen and a small piece of paper across the bar along with my uncle’s credit card. While my uncle is busy filling in the tip and signing his receipt, I notice the bartender look past me and give a slight nod.That's weird,I think to myself. I didn't think anyone else would be in a place like this so early in the day.
"There you go, man. I left you an extra good tip. Sorry again," says my uncle as he stuffs his credit card in his wallet.
"No worries, Mar… Uh, Mark. You have a good one," the bartender says, making my uncle chuckle. It seems a little strange to me that the bartender isn't asking if we want anything to eat or drink. He almost seems eager for us to leave. As we turn and make our way to the exit, I subtly attempt to catch a glimpse of who the bartender may have been nodding at. I’m able to make out a group of four men sitting in a booth on the opposite side of the club. It’s difficult to be sure since I don’t want to let my eyes linger on them for too long, but I could swear that all four of them are staring at us.
I’m nearly blinded by the sunlight as we step back outside. I stop for a moment, waiting once again for my eyes to adjust, when I hear the door to the club swing open behind me.
“So,you’rethe agent that signed my girl last night,” I hear a male voice say with just a hint of aggression in his voice. I turn to see the four men that had been sitting inside the club. They’re all wearing dingy-looking black denim vests, each with four or five dark blue, rectangular patches sewn on right around where a name tag might go. The man addressing my uncle is wearing a patch with the words “ROAD CAPTAIN” stitched neatly on his vest in silver threading.
"Yes! Very nice, talented young lady,” Uncle answers cheerfully, seeming oblivious to the fact that these guys are not very happy with him. “Why do you ask?”
“Uncle Suki, I think we should go,” I try to interrupt, putting my hand on his shoulder to pull him towards me.
“Huh? Why?” My uncle looks at me, then back toward the men. As if in slow motion, a fist lands directly on the right side of my uncle’s face, catching him completely off guard. I see blood dripping from his lip, and then something happens: Before I have a chance to think, I feel a sharp pain in my right fist. Then I see the man with the ROAD CAPTAIN patch raise his hands to his face and cup his nose. Blood is pouring from his hands as I gradually realize what I’ve just done. All four men seem just as surprised as I am, and there are a few short seconds of silence before the road captain bellows out curses.
“You bitch! You’re gonna pay for that! Get her, Joey!” he screams.
Joey...
Another man steps forward, the biggest one of them. Damn, he’s big. His patch reads SGT. AT ARMS instead of ROAD CAPTAIN.
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened!” I say as I raise my hands up in front of me in a defensive position. I take a step toward him, aiming for his knee at first. But then I think better of it and kick him in the groin while simultaneously reaching up and grabbing hold of either side of his vest for leverage.
I hear Joey groan as he leans into me. I feel his right side begin to push against my left hand, which tells me he’s getting ready to try to get a punch in. I tighten my grip on his vest with my left hand and get ready to pull. Just as Joey takes his swing, I step back with my left foot, pivoting on my right, and use all of his momentum to throw him out of my way. Joey goes barreling headfirst into the street. I notice the word Southside above a likeness of the Liberty Bell is embroidered on the back of his vest before he lands flat on his stomach.
“The liberty bell isn’t in South Philadelphia, you know?” I yell. A passing car comes to a screeching halt just inches from his head. The car’s horn blares, and the driver yells an obscenity before driving off.
Whoops!
“It’s close enough!”one of the other gang members yells back at me before turning his attention to the sergeant-at-arms still lying in the street. “Hey, Joey, you ok? I’ll get the bitch!”
There’s that name again…
“Isthiswhat you meant when you said Blondie was dangerous?” I exclaim to my uncle as I turn to see him trading blows with the fourth man.
“Stop!” the road captain yells. “Blondie? What Blondie?”
“Bratva Blondie is her boyfriend!” My uncle yells without skipping a beat. I scrunch my face up at him in confusion.
