Not This Time

30
Dust-up

AUGUST WAS HOT and miserable. Near 90 degrees and 90% humidity. We celebrated Robin’s second birthday at the lake, all three parents scurrying around to keep the kids corralled in the shallow part of the water. We weren’t the only ones. Saturday was bright, sunny, and hot as the blazes. Every twenty minutes, we called all the kids out of the water, slathered them with sunblock again, and made them wait ten minutes before they ran back to the water. Most of the kids in our neighborhood were there and the parents helped with grilling hotdogs and hamburgers.

There is nothing like a beach party to remind a woman that she had a baby and hasn’t lost all the extra weight yet. I’d done well after Emily was born because I had Lily and a good diet. I was also working my ass off in school and real estate sales. But life was easier now, and I’d not focused on getting toned again. Lily and I talked about it when we were trying to find sensible one-piece bathing suits for the summer. I simply didn’t want my belly flopping out between the top and bottom of a two-piece.

I’d been in the water letting Charlotte splash and drift with her little floaties. Emily was becoming quite a water rat and raced Bruce all the way to the raft and back. I kept one hand on Charlotte and one eye on the crazy one. Lily laughed as Robin managed to splash water up into her face.

“I need something cold to drink,” she said. I agreed and we picked up our children from the shallow water, hoisting them to our hips. We’d linked arms and headed for the sand when I froze. Lily almost dragged me down in the shallow water. “What?”

“Him,” I said. Straight ahead of us near the picnic tables, Ernie the Pimp was flipping burgers on a huge gas grill and dishing them out to all comers from our party. How dare he invade our neighborhood party?

“Mr. Anders?” Lily said. “I thought you’d met. You came home that one time last winter in his Lincoln. He sells insurance. His daughter is in Emily’s class.”

“You’re kidding!” I said. “He has a child? The man’s a pimp!”

“Shh! Don’t say things like that,” Lily admonished. “He’s a nice guy and obviously very successful. They live in the two-story Tudor just where the lake drive turns to one-way. We didn’t exactly make this event an invitation-only thing. We just put out the word that we were coming here for a beach day and invited everyone in the neighborhood to join us. That gas grill of his is huge, and he brought thirty pounds of burgers.”

What was I going to do? I knew he lived in the neighborhood. I knew what he drove. I knew where he picked me up and what he really did for a living. Why didn’t I know his daughter went to school with mine? What would I have done about it if I knew?

I decided to ignore it, but, of course, those plans never go the way you expect them to. It seems that everyone was conspiring to get us in a space I didn’t want to be in. I finally found myself juggling three plates of food for Lily, Emily, and me while Lily watched the kids and Bruce ran to Byerly’s for more soft drinks.

“Let me help you with that, Angel of Mercy,” Ernie said when I almost dropped one of the plates on his grill. I didn’t want him to, but it was obvious that I was going to have a mess shortly if I didn’t find some solution. Potato salad and deviled eggs were going to be everywhere.

“Thank you, Mr. Anders. I didn’t realize that Lisle was your daughter. Which of your women is the mother?” I said.

“A little catty, don’t you think?” he chuckled. “My wife, of course. Margaret!” A lovely woman about Lily’s age came over and he introduced her.

“Emily is a doll!” Margaret gushed. “I hope she and Lisle will become friends. This will be the third year they have been in the same class. I remember third grade as being when some of my longest-lasting friendships developed. Oops! I need to run. Jordan is headed for the merry-go-round. Nice to meet you!” She was off and running after a toddler who was trying desperately to climb on the spinning contraption. She was nice. If I’d never met Ernie—never knew what his real business was—I’d have the same impression that Lily had. I’d enjoy them as neighbors. I’d want to be friends. This was insane!

“How can you…?” I turned to Ernie, but he interrupted.

“Angel, let’s leave business discussions for business hours and enjoy our families today,” he said. I clamped my mouth shut as he handed Lily her plate of food. “Lily, it’s great to see you. How is your two-year-old?”

By day a mild-mannered insurance salesman. By night…

Fuck!

divider
 

The house on 23rd passed inspection the next week. Carla had seen to it that our request for multiple occupancy was approved by the zoning board. She’d actually had to get a ruling passed by the city/county council which meant an open hearing. The only person that showed up to object was our old thorn in the side, Leon Briggs. He objected to the zoning change on the grounds that it destroyed the principle of a single residence neighborhood and introduced an unsavory population to the area by offering shelter to the homeless. Three councilmen, not including Carla, actually laughed at him.

And I had to admit that Washburn Neighborhood was gradually changing. It wouldn’t be the overnight change that happened when Jim started renovating Loring Neighborhood. This change would take years. But the needle receptacles were being changed out weekly. A sterile needle and condom program at the clinic had begun, although there was a lot of hesitancy on the part of those who needed it. When they came in, they were offered both a free physical exam and a counselor if they wanted them. One young woman had accepted the exam and the clinic found she was infected with Hepatitis B. She got treatment. It was a small victory, but it was one.

The city had stepped up and the parks board was having a maintenance crew come through the park once a week to mow. As with the regular police patrols, there was never any misconduct in the park during maintenance. No solicitation. No shooting up. No drug deals. As soon as they were gone, life began again—such as it was.

The worst part of our program was that we were blatantly breaking the law. Chapter 557, Section 152 of the Laws of Minnesota explicitly prohibits the possession, manufacture, delivery, or advertisement of drug paraphernalia. Penalties were more severe in a public park area which included a full block outside the bounds of the park itself. Our area was sixteen square blocks. Both the clinic and the shelter were across the street from the park.

In a pissing contest between the Minneapolis Park Police and the Hennepin County Sheriff’s office Narcotics Task Force, a raid was executed near the end of August by Sheriff’s deputies. Warrants gave the officers access to both the clinic and the not-quite-open shelter. At the same time deputies swept into the park rounding up everyone there. Nothing was in the shelter and the clinic was licensed for everything in its inventory. A dozen people in the park had controlled substances. The Sheriff demanded access to the disposal units and the City Council thumbed its nose. The heat of late summer, stretching well into the 90s, had tempers flaring to a point where I was concerned that we’d have a riot. When Minneapolis City Police and Minnesota State Police arrived on the scene, it became obvious that the real issues were between the various law enforcement agencies as only the dozen poor users had been swept up. A judge set bail at $1 for each and released them on their own recognizance pending a grand jury to be convened by the District Attorney.

What a bunch of shit. We passed Labor Day looking forward to cooler temperatures and tempers.

divider
 

I had an idea, which should have been a warning to me. Me and my bright ideas. We were receiving our first shelter residents the second week of September. I didn’t need to be there since my only concern was that I owned the building and leased it to the clinic. I just wanted to watch as two old men cautiously made their way up the steps. It was a sad sight, but in a way, it made me feel good that someone was going to sleep in a bed who would otherwise spend their time on a bench or under an overpass.

I decided to take a walk up to Loring Neighborhood, just five blocks north. I hadn’t been in the neighborhood since my retirement. I was happy to see that it was still in good condition, even after Jim had sold his property management company. He still owned properties in the neighborhood, but his presence was now low-key. I walked through the park, enjoying the soft music from the light post speakers. The park was softly illuminated and I met several other people, including a few with small children and pets, out for an evening stroll. It was hard to believe the economic disparity between Loring and the neighborhood just six blocks south.

I wasn’t there to yuppify Washburn, though. I just wanted to make it safe for the people who already lived there. I walked back to the park across from the clinic and started musing to myself about what this park would be like if we added the ubiquitous lighting and music in the evening. I was lost in my dream or I would never have allowed myself to be in this park after dark. The light mist and fog of September had begun to settle in and already there were fewer people in the park at night.

“Bitch!” I heard over to my right in the mist. It was followed by a slap and muted scream. “Where’s the money?” I could see the car’s lights about a hundred feet away and turned to head that way.

“There’s no more, Dragon. Nobody’s been out tonight,” she wailed as he hit her again.

My heart started pounding in my chest as I ran toward the scuffle that was punctuated by more slaps and screams.

“Stop it!” I screamed. “I’ll call the police!” Fucking worthless cell phone. There was never a signal in the park.

As I emerged from the fog, I saw the Dragon with a hopeless woman crumpled at his feet clutching his knees, crying.

“Well, if it ain’t the white bitch of mercy,” Dragon growled at me. “Get over here on your knees, cunt!”

“Forget it, Dragon. Police are on their way,” I lied. “We’re putting an end to this crap right now.”

“Police? Right! They should be here in an hour or so. In the meantime, you can get a load in each of your holes. Now get over here and suck my big cock!” I glanced to my right and tried to calculate how fast I could run and if it would be enough. I edged back as the girl at his feet started to unzip his pants and pull out his cock.

“Bitch!” he yelled. I looked up and saw the gun in his hand come up to level at me. “You got to decide whether you want to raise your babies or die in the street. Get over here and start sucking.”

I had no doubt that Dragon would kill me. Nor would I be his first. In the past year, two girls known to have worked for him had been found dead. One was strangled, supposedly by a john, in an alley near Lake and Chicago. The other had drowned while skinny-dipping in Lake Nokomis. No one swims in that lake at night. Everyone knew Dragon had done the deed but no charges had ever been brought. Both women had been beaten before they died. I looked at the girl fisting his cock and knew beyond a doubt that she and I would share a grave before the night was over. I reflexively took a step forward. My babies. I had to try.

“Move it!”

A car rounded the corner a half-block away and sped toward us. Dragon lowered the gun to his waist so it wouldn’t be seen. A white Lincoln screeched to a stop next to his black Cadillac. Dragon kicked the girl away as he spun to meet Ernie jumping out of his car. They faced each other across the Cadillac.

“Let them go Eustis,” Ernie growled. “You know she’s off limits.”

“This is my territory!” Dragon growled. “And don’t you ever call me Eustis.”

“Eustis is the name they’re going to put on your gravestone, assuming anyone cares enough to mark your grave,” Ernie said. “You’re close to it now. Angel, bring the girl and get in the car.”

“This is my bitch,” Dragon said. “You got no rights.” The gun started up and I screamed.

“Gun!”

Dragon glanced my way with the gun twitching in my direction, but spun to level it at Ernie. He faced a gun pointing at him. Realizing he’d been beaten to the draw, he swung his gun back toward me. Three sharp reports rang out. All the adrenaline drained from my body, the blood rushed out of my head, and I crumpled to the ground.

 
 

Comments

Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.

 
Become a Devon Layne patron!