ROLL CALL ~ A Prison List (True Prison Story) (38 page)

Bob watched Big Johnny nod his head in agreement. “We took his patch off his jacket and kicked him out of the club a couple of years ago.”

Bob said, “That piece of shit is trying to burn me. What if I have B.J. regulate him? Will that get your club to trust him?”

CHAPTER 88

I spent the next couple of days on Paul’s couch. Then, that got uncomfortable. It felt like I never really got any real sleep or peace, I was intruding on their space. I asked myself, why don’t I just rent my own place so I can get away from it all. I thought about it and told myself, I’ll get a place after I figure out this Dennis thing.

I spent the next two days at Tom’s on his couch. The same thing happened. It felt like the walls were closing in on me. I thought about it, maybe I should go to San Bernardino for a while, Bob does have his own place now…

I called Bob. He gave me directions to his house in Colton and I was on the freeway in the Festiva five minutes later.

On the way I called Mr. Dudley. He and Brock had just got back from the river run and I asked if the Custom Creation Harleys had sold.

He told me, “They could have sold. We had a bunch of interested parties that wanted to buy them… But we forgot one thing.”

I asked, “What?”

“We forgot about credit. We didn’t have a credit system worked out for people to buy them. Not everyone buys things cash like you do. We did meet another guy in the Custom Harley world who is going to help us shore up that end of things. His business name for his custom Harleys is Iron Horse. We are opening up a shop together in a dealership in Irvine. We’re going to be right across from a B.M.W. dealership. We’ll have our two Custom Creation Harleys on the show room floor on pedestals. I’m confident they will sell within the month now that we have a credit system in place to document everything legitimately.”

I got off the phone and wondered where I stood with Mr. Dudley now that he had another partner. I pulled over at the exit Bob told me his house was at and stopped at an In and Out Burger. While waiting for my order I saw a Crown Victoria with double tinted windows cruising by slowly. At first glance I thought it was an undercover cop. Then, I noticed the vehicle was slightly lowered, and it had deep dish rims that gave it a gangster look. I couldn’t see through the blacked out tint, but I got the impression there were a couple of neighborhood gangsters inside the vehicle. It felt like they were studying the area. I got my order and drove a street away to where Bob lived and ended up behind the Crown Victoria.

It stopped in front of Bob’s. I watched a short Chicano get out of the passenger seat. I pulled over a few houses behind them. The Chicano looked about 25 years old; he was wearing a Pechuco gangster pin stripe suit. He looked straight at me so I popped the hood of the Festiva and got out like I was checking the oil. I stopped looking at him while he was at Bob’s gate and grabbed my SKS gun I had hidden by the battery and put it along the waist of my pants so my shirt could cover it. I got back in the Festiva and saw Bob letting the gangster in the front door. The Crown Victoria was driving away. I pulled up to where it had just left. It felt like the gangster had an arranged meeting with Bob but I wasn’t sure. I got out and followed my instincts.

I hopped the waist high gate and managed not to lose my piece tucked against my waist by flexing my stomach muscles to hold it in place. Then, I walked toward the front door and decided to pick up a hose off to the left. I turned the water on full blast and began watering the part of the yard that had dirt. I knew that hopping the gate made enough noise for Bob and the other guy to hear and I knew that turning on the water would also alert them to my presence. I looked around the front yard to examine the angles best suited for watering and kept an eye on things. Inside the gate was a circular drive way that fit about four cars if you parked them in line. From where I was with the hose there was about that much more room where a large tree sat in the middle of a bunch of dirt. I found the angles to water from so I could see Bob’s front door and the entrance to his street I’d just driven.

A few minutes later the front door opened. I kept watering from my post and noticed the Crown Victoria had circled back and was driving back toward Bob’s. The gangster looked at me and nodded and walked with Bob to his gate. Bob opened the gate and I watched the gangster duck his head into the passenger seat.

Bob walked back while I turned the hose off and we went inside. The first thing I did was check his new residence out. I wanted to know what the escape routes were like. Upon entering I noticed the front yard was twice the size of the house. It was a one bedroom. From the front door I saw the entire one story structure. The living room was as soon as you stepped in, a bathroom and the bedroom was off to the right, the kitchen was straight ahead. I walked to the kitchen and looked out the window to check out the back yard. It was pretty small. I could see that if you hopped Bob’s backyard fence you’d be in another back yard that fronted the next street. From there you could get to the next street I assumed the Crown Victoria had circled.

Bob broke into my assessment of his place. “Are you checking the perimeter for routes in and out?”

“Yep… Who was that gangster?”

“He goes by L’il man.”

“What did he want?”

“He came to introduce himself. He ran down the new program to me. He said that nobody except him has the authority in this territory to supply the chemicals we use to make speed. He’s giving everyone a fair warning and giving them the chance to do business with him. He wants to give me the chemicals for free but it comes with a price. I’d have to give him half of the product.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I couldn’t do anything until I talked to you and Ricky. He told me he already talked to Ricky and that Ricky understood the new program. He told me he wanted me to talk to you about it.”

I nodded my head. “What’s up with the Hell’s Angels? Did you talk to them?”

“Yeah. A couple of their heavy hitters came over here yesterday. The bottom line is that they have to bring it up at a chapter meeting and they predicted that their elders would veto it because you’re an unknown. They’re scared of the bad attention they could get from getting involved.”

I looked at Bob and felt my temper losing it. I shook my head and decided I needed to check out his backyard from his fence. On my way I asked Bob, “Haven’t I done enough already to get recognized as someone who can be trusted?”

In the backyard I thought about it. Why was I counting on the help Bob had almost promised with the Hell’s Angels? Was it because I already envisioned them pulling up to Maniac’s house with about 20 hogs to talk some sense into him? Probably. The stress of watching Dennis catch a life sentence made me feel powerless. It was right next to the feeling of powerlessness I had with my investment with Mr. Dudley. From Bob’s gate I looked for a dog in the backyard facing his. There wasn’t one. Upon further inspection I noticed that if I hopped Bob’s fence into the next backyard I’d be stuck. In that backyard there was a garage instead of a fence to hop over to get to the next street. I looked at the backyard next to theirs and saw that one allowed access to the street over their fence. So I’d have to hop two backyards to get to the street. It was good in that it made Bob’s backyard hard to ambush, and there was still a way to use it as an escape route. I looked back at Bob.

“B.J. I’ve got a job for you. It will help me out, and get your foot in the door with the Hell’s Angels.”

CHAPTER 89

Ricky pushed the button on Argenta’a gate, and looked back at the hill above the freeway and wondered, does Argenta have his problem solver watching again? Not this time. The gate opened immediately. Ricky walked through and saw the front door open and Argenta cruising his wheel chair down the ramp and thought, now that L’il man is taking over the territory you’re in a hurry.

“What are you going to do about L’il man Argenta?”

“What are you going to do about him Ricky?”

Ricky thought…Nothing. I can’t do anything. Too many gangs are involved, too many soldiers are available. I don’t want to become an example of what happens to those who get in the way.

“Argenta, L’il man has these streets on lock. He’s in charge of them. There isn’t anything we can do but watch and wait for things to develop.”

“I’m going to talk to El Diablo about that.”

“Argenta, you have to understand something. El Diablo might wield the most power in Mexico but that’s where his power runs out. These streets belong to the gangs that run them. The shot callers are getting sick of all of the problems speed is bringing to the table. Now that the feds are putting a clamp on the chemicals, they’ve found a way to organize a more iron fisted program.”

“We’ll see about that.”

CHAPTER 90

I followed Bob’s directions to Skip’s trailer park and listened to him tell me about Skip. The vital things I listened to besides what a scum bag he was had to do with his physical capabilities. He was about 40 years old, didn’t take care of himself by working out or eating right, was less than 6’ and less than 170lbs. Bob described him as non-athletic, nor did he seem to be much of a fighter. He told me that Skip never had anyone over because the trailer park was one of the nicer ones and was mostly a retirement community. It was all by itself at the top of a hill and there was only one road there.

At the bottom of the hill there was a Home Depot and a few other businesses in a large parking lot. Driving by I commented to Bob that it would have been nice to have someone in the lot watching for police. A couple minute warning is usually enough. He directed me to Skip’s unit and I parked around the corner.

I got out of the Festiva and Bob asked, “Aren’t you going to pop the hood and grab your gun?”

“Nope, what are we going to do, shoot him and catch a murder beef? Don’t worry about it. Just ask him what happened and we’ll wait for things to fall into place.”

On the way to Skip’s door I thought of something. We should have grabbed some fast food to have in our hands. Seeing it, Skip would have dropped his guard a little. I felt my nervous energy turning into focused adrenaline.

Skip made the mistake of opening the door. I looked right into his blue eyes and he looked like he was as wired as a person could get. He had blond hair and an unhealthy chiseled face. His cheeks sank in on his bone structure, giving him the appearance of a walking skeleton. He had a lanky long build for being right at 6 feet and somehow looked dangerous despite his lack of size and power. He took on an angry look and I could feel the evilness radiating from his insides.

“Bob I told you to call before showing up at my place!”

I closed the distance between Skip and myself by stepping to the side of Bob. Skip looked at me for a second and I watched him look back at Bob. I was close enough to engage but I didn’t want things to start on the porch so I looked past Skip into his residence. His kitchen was to the left as soon as you entered and it had a hardwood floor. The living room started behind him about four feet away and I could see a table on the carpet right where the hardwood tile stopped. It was one of those tables that have a glass surface over the four pieces of wooden legs. Underneath on the bottom glass piece there was a rag over the top of something. I was guessing it was a gun.

I watched Bob figure out what to say. “Skip, I want my half of the shit.”

It didn’t look like Skip was going to invite us in so I squeezed through his front door and bumped him out of the way. Bob followed me in. I walked right to his kitchen and kept my eyes on Skip and asked, “Where was the fire? I don’t see where the fire was.”

Skip didn’t look like he knew what to do with Bob crowding him. I looked at Bob and he looked like he was ready, but waiting for me. I saw Skip look at that table I’d noticed and closed the distance to it and looked at it with him. He looked back at me and noticed where I was looking.

I told him, “You want that gun down there don’t you.”

I was so close to Skip that when I exploded a right handed bomb into his chin; the rest of the punch took him off his feet. He bounced into the wall where his head connected and crumbled to the hardwood floor. He was out cold. Bob and I dragged him into the living room and I thought about the loud thump thump noise that was just made from Skip hitting the wall and then the hardwood floor.

“Bob hold on to Skip, I’m going to go smoke a cigarette out front to see if that noise got any of the neighbor’s attention.”

Out on the porch I didn’t see any of the neighbors looking out their windows. I took a walk to check behind his unit and didn’t see anything either.

Back inside I noticed Bob had found some rope and was tying Skip in an interesting knot. The couch had been moved and Bob told me while he worked, “He had another gun, this rope and some sick porn videos from the orient of kids getting tied up. I learned how to use rope in the Navy so Skip’s going into my favorite knot.”

I watched Bob. He had Skip, who was still knocked out, on his stomach. He was tying the rope around his neck so the rope continued down to his legs, where he made another loop at his ankles. He tightened up the difference until Skip was arching up like a banana. It looked like if he fought against the rope it would add more pressure to his neck and strangle him. It didn’t look comfortable. I looked at the gun and the videos. There were two videos. On the cover of one of them both boys and girls who looked between 10–16 were in chains, handcuffs and rope similar to the one Bob was using with scared looks on their faces. I never knew that kind of thing existed. How could the world accept it? I looked back at Skip and saw he was waking up. My mind spun all kinds of possibilities. Didn’t this piece of trash deserve to die so he couldn’t ever hurt any kids? I thought about it and wished I had a vial full of a chemical that would wipe out his mind so it couldn’t process any more of his predatory evil thoughts. Instead, I soccer kicked him in the face and felt his nose breaking.