I was led into the Tenderloin District. My boys entered an apartment building about a block from City Hall. Before they entered, Two Fingers gave the Vulture a dressing down. His head dropped and his hands disappeared into his pockets as he stood there like a sponge and soaked it up. That’s how kids get molded into criminals, how terrorists become terrorists, they are weak and easily manipulated by the criminal mind. Continue reading
It was a great day in SanFrancisco. It was sunny and warm for a change with only a slight breeze coming off the ocean. I decided to head down to the bay and snoop around to see if I could find some well washed beach glass. I like to make mosaic animals out of the old glass. Old stuff was getting harder to come by, but I had been having some luck when the tide was out.
I was currently working on a giraffe and needed to find some leg and hoof pieces. I had already completed the piece with paper and it was ready for the transition to glass. I thought it might be a nice center piece for our new reception area once Ned and I got rolling on the reconstruction project.
When I got down to the Embarcadero I decided to detour into the Walgreens across the street from the Hyatt. Someone was following me. I had felt his presence shortly after leaving the Tin Man’s. I didn’t know if Skinny had put a tail on me or what. Kid’s can be pretty sharp when it comes down to trust issues.
When I turned around I glanced about for anyone that had stopped moving. People that are tailing you tend to go into motionlessness if their target goes still or looks around. It is some kind of natural reaction under the circumstances and is almost like a poker tell. They don’t know they are giving themselves away because they are trying too hard to hide themselves behind their tell. That’s precisely why it is a tell.
I saw three people that fit the description. I immediately ruled out one of them because he was panhandling and dressed in street clothes that had seen better days. One of the other guys was talking on a cell phone and looking in my direction. He was dressed in a blue sports coat and expensive slacks. The last guy was kind of beefy with several tattoos visible on the backs of his arms and neck. He was pretending to look in the window of the Starbucks next-door . I recognized him, he was Two-Fingers Kim, our local drug trafficker. My tail.
Kim had been in jail enough times to own a time share. Though I had never met him up close and personal, I knew of him and his destructive wake. From what I heard, he was one tough Korean. His last arrest had taken a whole precinct of cops to take him down and haul him in.
I really couldn’t think of any possible reason why he would be following me. I turned and went into Walgreens. I walked to the back of the store and went through the door marked for employees only. The delivery area doors were closed and the docking area empty. I found the exit door out into the back alley and scurried back around toward Market Street.
When I came to the corner by the cable cars, I could see him still standing there by Starbucks. He was shifting from foot to foot getting antsy. I watched as he waited another few minutes and then went inside Walgreens to find me.
I decided to abandon my project and turn the tide on Two Fingers.
He came out of Walgreens about five minutes later. I have no idea what he thought or even if he thought at all. I gave him a half block head start up Market and followed discreetly.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
Skinny didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing behind him, but he turned anyway and stood up to face me on his broken ankle. We were about the same height. He wasn’t a bad looking kid. He had long eyelashes that any woman would have envied. He also had high cheekbones that gave him an exotic look. His downfall was his perpetual sneer.
“I knew this day was comin,” he said quietly. “I have a rep, old man. You planing to step on me?”
Our noses were almost touching so we were virtually privately engaged in our conversation.
“Not today,” I replied, “I want you to keep your rep, so no, I won’t stand on you.”
“That be cool,” he said and relaxed noticeably.
“I’m interested in making a deal with you,” I said. “Care to hear me out?”
Skinny looked around Tin Man’s. Several of his peers were having coffee and trying to keep their pants from falling all the way to the ground. They were oblivious to our confrontation.
“Shoot.” Skinny said.
“I’m offering you a high paying role in my new venture,” I explained, “It involves being a leader. I need one.”
Skinny looked at me perplexed.
“You’re a natural,” I said. “You have what it takes. You have charisma.”
“Don’t know much about none of that,” he said. “Besides I already got me a job.”
“I ain’t offering you a job. I’m offering you a life.” I said emphasizing life.
His eyelashes twitched. “You want me to be an actor?”
“You’re already one of those, so no, I want you to be yourself.”
Again that puzzled look. I hoped that I hadn’t overstepped myself with my sarcasm.
“You want me to be myself? What kind of BS you talkin here anyway?”
“Not BS, I just need you to be yourself,” I said. ‘You interested?”
Skinny stared at me with his sneer in place. “This high pay, how much you talkin?”
“If you are in, I’d say $1,600.00 a week to begin with.” I said.
“You deal’n drugs or what, old man? I’m not into being served up as jail bait.”
“This has nothing to do with selling drugs or anything else against the law.”
“What is it I got to do for this money?”
“Meet with my partner and I. We’ll fill you in. I know it’ll be a bit cumbersome with your foot in a cast, but we’ll work it out.” I extended my hand.
Skinny stared at me long and hard then tentatively shook it.
“You have a bank account?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said.
I pulled out my checkbook and wrote him a check for sixteen hundred dollars.
“First week’s pay in advance,” I said. “We’ll meet this Friday. Be here at noon and I’ll come and get you.”
Skinny almost gave up his perpetual sneer and snapped the check. He stuck it under his nose, took a long whiff and kissed it. Then in a flash it disappeared into his pocket.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
I ran into The Vulture as he was coming out of Mrs. Cooley’s market. He was carrying a paper bag with an assortment of healthy looking greens sticking out of the top.
“Good stuff.” I remarked, gesturing toward the bag.
His eyes darted right, then left two or three times before he backpedaled. Then he realized he had nowhere to go but out through me.
“How’s Skinny’s ankle?” I asked, hoping to disarm some of his mistrust.
The Vulture wanted no part of it. He sidled further away.
“He been bothering you any?” I asked.
The Vulture stepped toward me and feigned like he was going to scuttle out past me, but I didn’t budge.
“Those for your mother?” I asked, pointing to the greens.
He mustered a slight nod of his head.
“Good lady. Tell her Sugar says hi and wishes her a happy birthday.”
The Vulture dropped his guard slightly and a wry smile twitched his lips.
I turned to the side and let him scuttle past. He rocketed up the street like a worried crab.
I had already decided that I needed to pay Skinny a visit and my encounter with The Vulture reminded me I had better confront the matter directly. I needed him. He was one of the cornerstones for Ned’s and my endeavor though I hadn’t confessed this point to Ned.
Skinny was fairly smart and in the scheme of things I knew that could be his downfall. I needed to find out if his intelligence could be redirected toward a greater good and that would have a lot to do with how he perceived weakness and strength in himself and in others. I was hopeful after what had transpired in the alley by Gordo’s Liquor Store that I had a running chance.
I found him down at Tin Man’s Doughnuts. It was a popular hangout for many reasons. Mostly it was cheap but the doughnuts were actually pretty good and the coffee was rich and flavorful. The place was also lively. There were always chess games and people playing cards. It was populated by a mixed bag of gamers, gangsters, bookies and cops. It seemed that everyone got along while indulging in gambling and sweets at the Tin Man’s.
I hadn’t been there for a few months, but nothing had changed. it smelled of sugar and stale grease. The Tin Man was parked behind the counter lording over the cash register. He was very large, probably six foot five and 280 pounds. I think that is why everyone seemingly got along.
He cordially nodded at me and I nodded back.
Skinny was at the counter with a pair of crutches leaning against the wall a few feet to his right. His ankle was in a cast. I’d heard rumors that he’d invented a story about how he had been the victim of a nasty skateboard fall.
“I hear you fell off your board,” I said standing directly behind him.
“Yah, took a good one over on Petrero.” He said without turning around to see who I was. “I really busted up my ankle.”
“Tough hill to skate,” I said.
“Not so much,” he replied, “I just don’t give a shit.”
“Me either,” I said, “your version is as good as gold to me.”
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®
Life itself is a calculated risk. You never fully know the consequences of your actions or inactions until after the fact. Those with honor do their best. Those with the heart of a snake become corporate bullies, psychiatrists or politicians. They do not kill before they eat. They simply poison and swallow you whole.
That is what happened to Berlinski’s Hardware. Ned stood and tried to fight the snake when he should have run. It swallowed him. He could have sold the property for half a fortune when Home Depot wanted it, but Ned hung on because he loved his business and its place in the community in which he had invested his life.
He was also stubborn.
“I don’t need any of your charity, nor do I want it,” he said shaking his head.
“It is not charity I’m offering. We can make good use of the property and I also need your help,” I consoled.
“Bullshit.”
“Bullshit right back at yah. Look, I got accosted by those little punks. You know as well as I do it’ll happen again. If it hadn’t been me things would have turned out badly.”
Ned stared at the floor.
I pressed on.
“We can make something of this, Ned. Let go of the past. It’s time to move on.”
He sighed.
“You built something once, you can do it again. I believe in you and I believe in myself, and that’s not bullshit.”
“Okay! Okay, I’ll listen. I ain’t saying yes and I ain’t saying no. I’m just saying.”
“Good enough for me,” I said. “Let’s walk it off.”
Ned had grown accustomed to my hikes. He was even beginning to enjoy them as much as I did. We were loitering in a grove of eucalyptus looking down at the parking lot of the Home Depot and I was pointing at the array of buildings that had been his empire. It looked beaten and pushed into a corner by the corporate bullies.
“We can put in a new entrance off Biscayne,” I said. “There’s plenty of room for parking and expansion.”
“You know what she looks like to me?” Ned chuckled. “She looks like that hooker with the green wig and Beatle boots that hooks down there by Larry’s. She looks used up.”
“Used yes, but not used up,” I said. “We don’t need the current structures. we can start from the ground up and the wood from the buildings can be reclaimed for a lot of our interiors. Even the graffiti can be used to add some character. The kids will like that.”
“You really think this is a good idea?”
“No. I think it’s a great idea. With my money and your leadership, we can’t lose.”
Ned chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds and then smiled. He looked me straight in the eye and stuck out his right hand. I greedily grabbed it.
Ned let out a laugh. “Alright!” he exclaimed.
Richard Rensberry, Author at QuickTurtle Books®