Shakedown: The Church Street District (Book 1)

By Shawn P. Lytle

The Church Street District in downtown Orlando never had a close brush with organized crime—that is, until Patrick Washington arrived on the scene. His ruthless shakedown tactics forced nearly every business owner in the downtown district to relinquish a percentage of their earnings in exchange for his protection.

But one owner in the district was not willing to give in to the extortion attempt. Tony, the owner of Club Metropolis, not only refused the overture, he also dared Patrick to show up at his establishment again with another outlandish proposal.

The exchange between the two sparks a street war that will forever change the nightlife scene of the Church Street District.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn P. Lytle
• Release date: Sep 19, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301510160

Shawn P. Lytle

Shawn P. Lytle is a South Carolinian living in his adopted home of Orlando, Florida where he splits his time between raising his kids and writing. He is an avid reader of fiction and philosophy. He is a graduate of Florida State University where he obtained his bachelor’s degree in English. Writing has always been his first love since his adolescent days. He learned to express his emotions through his poetry, his concerns through his essays, and his wild imagination through his stories.

Book preview

SHAKEDOWN

THE CHURCH STREET DISTRICT

BY

SHAWN P. LYTLE

COPYRIGHT © 2012

BY SHAWN P. LYTLE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION.

THE ULTIMATUM

"It’s real simple. Either you pay the money and live or refuse and come up missing."

Patrick’s ultimatum was straight forward. His either/or scenario left no room for misinterpretation. Every business owner in a twenty mile radius of Orlando’s downtown nightlife had heard of his notorious shakedown methods. Negotiating in good faith was a complimentary act; anything short of that provoked grim circumstances.

Now it was Tony’s turn to learn how business was handled when it came to The Church Street District. His club Metropolis was the new hot spot on the block and its tremendous financial upside sparked Patrick’s interest.

So let me get this straight. You telling me if I don’t pay you then my life will be in danger. Is that about right? Tony asked with a smirk on his face.

What’s understood aint got to be said, Patrick answered while his six foot four frame tightened.

Tony shook his head. Where dey do dat at?

The New Orleans transplant was accepting no parts of the apparent shakedown. In fact, he could care less about the bravado being thrown his way.

I don’t know where you from but I’m from New Orleans, ya heard me? It’s called the murder capital for a reason.

Patrick sized up the five-foot-nine, loud-talking giant. His bravery was expected, he reasoned. A person standing up for what was theirs was not out of the ordinary but dying for it was a road few dared to travel.

Okay, Mr. New Orleans, I hear you loud and clear big boy. I got to respect where you coming from.

The sarcasm in Patrick’s response was misinterpreted by Tony.

You got no choice but to respect it. Ya heard me?

Patrick smiled at his clueless foe. It had been a long time since he faced resistance.

You from New Orleans huh? I guess I better get the hell out of here then.

 The humor in Patrick’s thoughts made him giggle. He knew if he wanted to, he could put hands on Tony and the beating would be so severe that no one would recognize him in the state of Louisiana let alone his city of New Orleans.

See you around Tony.

A final dig from Patrick set the tone.

The two exchanged smiles. The smiles were for different reasons.

Their collision could not be avoided. It was only a matter of when.

Patrick walked pass Tony slowly. He had to compose himself because his hands were itching to put in work but he knew that this was not the right time. He was willing to let Tony believe that he had the upper hand because deception was a diversionary tactic when traps were being set. A truth he knew all too well.

After putting the disagreement behind him, Patrick walked deeper into The Church Street District. He stopped by Club Antigua, Chillers/Lattitudes, and Bliss Ultra Lounge and collected his money. All of the owners obliged but were unwilling participants. Their participation level was only bolstered by Patrick’s violent history and terrorist threats. But all was not loss with Patrick’s extortion attempts. He did offer one perk; if one wanted to call it a perk. The businesses he received money from did not have to spend money on security for their establishments. There were no signs of security guards or bouncers in these spots. There was no need. Once the word got around that Patrick designated the spot a violence free zone, patrons acted accordingly.

Exiting the last club, Patrick looked around for any potential danger in the crowd. He understood the streets. He was carrying a bookbag full of cash and he realized that his reputation would be blind to a broken man’s dream.

Patrick walked through the crowd that loitered outside of the clubs. Several women with form fitting dresses caught his eye as he looked on with admiration.

Women are sexier now than they were when I grew up.

Patrick’s thoughts wasted no time validating what his eyes processed. Between the consumption of the steroid injected meats and the cosmetic surgeries, women bodies were being transformed into near perfect specimen.

The smiles sent his way by the younger women intrigued him. It made him feel like he still possessed what the young people were now calling swag. That is what happens when you are forty one years old and your temptress is in her twenties.

Patrick played it cool around the women because he knew he had a young lady waiting for him at the hotel. He had won her over earlier at the mall with a Chik-Fil-A meal purchase and now she was waiting at the room to show him her appreciation.

Patrick took one last look over his shoulder, then headed to his car.

Tony watched as Patrick walked through the Church Street District. He could not believe what had just taken place. Was his mind playing tricks on him? It was a surreal moment that took a minute to adjust to.

Only in the movies does something like this happen, he thought; but as he looked around, he saw no cameras or supporting cast in the area.

A dishonorable deal was being offered that no real man would think was feasible.

Tony took it as an insult and vowed to fight back. Applied pressure meant nothing to him. All it did was raise his propensity for violence.

I shoulda slapped the shit out of him, Tony said; swinging his hand in a hard motion through the air and striking an imaginary face. His anger was building while he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Tony thought he had seen it all after surviving Hurricane Katrina, but now he was being confronted by a different kind of disaster; a proposition that brought him to a fork in the road decision. His remedy was a no brainer. Not in a million years would he let anyone take advantage of him. He had handled so many of those so called gangsters in his past and if it came down to it, he would do it again.

While he accosted his invisible foe with air slaps, a line began to form outside of Club Metropolis. His, free admission and drinks before eleven, promotion for the ladies was working to perfection. About fifty women were socializing and waiting for the club to open. The line was being held up for a reason. The beautiful women were being used as exotic billboards to attract their hormone driven male counterparts. It worked as planned as a large group of men joined the line within seconds.

Tony’s smile finally returned after seeing the dollars accumulate right before his eyes. It took him four years to get his club up and running and another three years to build a crowd of loyal club-goers and now he was seeing the fruits of his labor.

After several minutes passed, he signaled to the bouncer to open the doors. It was officially ten o’clock.

As the crowd walked in, the bouncer waved Tony over.

Is everything good? Was that dude trying to start some trouble?

No, everything’s good Ricky. He got me mixed up with someone else, that’s all.

Ricky nodded then went back to watching the crowd as they entered the doors.

Tony’s bravado was worn on his sleeve. He walked pass the bouncer flashing a courageous smile.

Ricky looked over his shoulder to catch Tony quickly dropping his smile after walking pass him. His suspicions were confirmed. Something was wrong.

Once Tony made it back to his office, he sat down and opened the drawer of his executive desk and pulled out his Taurus .38 revolver. He opened the barrel. The chamber was fully loaded. He spun the barrel several times, then snapped it back in place.

The nerve of some people, he thought.

If the pressure of running a club wasn’t enough, now he had to deal with this nonsense.

Tony rose from his seat and slid the gun into his right pocket. The weight of the gun weighed down his black linen pants. His conscious had him feeling like he was doing something wrong but he understood if he stayed ready then he would not have to get ready.

He don’t want it with me! Tony screamed.

His voice was reaching a fervor pitch as he walked to the mini bar that sat in the corner of his office. To calm himself down, he grabbed the bottle of Hennessy and poured some in a red party cup. He grabbed some ice and dropped it in to give it that chill effect.

After several sips, he relaxed. The cognac rearranged his thoughts but a knock at the door put a clamp on his new found nirvana. He looked through the video monitor that sat on his desk. It was Ricky, the bouncer from the front.

Come in! he yelled.

Ricky walked in. Standing six foot three and weighing around three hundred pounds, his massive figure was intimidating.

What’s up? Tony asked.

That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I heard bits and pieces of what you and that dude was talking about and it didn’t seem like he came here to welcome you to the area.

Okay, you’re right but it aint nothing I can’t handle, ya heard me?

I hear you but a guy like that has to be dealt with because he’s not likely to be persuaded.

Tony knew what Ricky was saying was correct but he tried not to alarm his employee of his weariness.

Look I’m from New Orleans. Ya heard me?

I heard you the first one hundred times you said it but what you need to realize is that you’re no longer in New Orleans. You’re in a different place with a different set of rules.

That’s real.

Well, you better start taking this dude serious. What person you know can come to a club alone and tell the owner that he has dues to pay if he plans on remaining in business? Now that right there is some gangsta shit; if I ever seen some.

Tony sipped some more of the cognac as Ricky’s words grabbed a hold of his bravado for a second and made him think.

 He looked around his office at the flat screen televisions that hung on the walls, the fully stocked mini bar that sat in the corner, the video monitors that showed the entire club, and the pool table he seldom used; and felt a sense of pride. He had designed an impressive man cave for himself and was not ready to give that up.

"So what do you think I should do? Tony asked.

I say you let me handle this little problem for you. I live for this type of shit. I will find this dude and scare the shit out of him. He will know he picked the wrong person to mess with this time.

Tony looked at Ricky. He was a solidly built dude; a monster with a gentle smile. His hands had scars from past wars. This helped solidify Tony’s decision.

That sounds cool, but one small problem. We don’t know who this guy is.

Don’t worry about that. I will find him. It can’t be that many people around here shaking down businesses. I’m pretty sure you were not the first and most definitely won’t be the last.

Tony looked at Ricky with a new found respect. He was not just a hulking figure keeping the patrons in line in his eyes no more. Now, he was an alert employee that picked up on things rather quickly. This was the main reason he narrowed in on the conversation the tough guy was having with his boss.

You’re probably right, Tony said.

I know I’m right. One monkey don’t stop the show. You know how that go.

Well listen, this conversation goes no further than these walls. I don’t want anyone else in my troubles. We’re on the same page right?

Absolutely! This guy has crossed the line and if he is half the man he thinks he is then he will be back but before he has a chance to size you up again, I will make sure he understands he’s barking up the wrong tree this time.

Well that’s what it is then.

Don’t worry. I’m going to send this dude a strong message for you. You feel me?

Tony gave Ricky the approval nod. He really did not care what Ricky was going to do to the guy as long as it led to him not having to see the guy’s face again.

The conversation reached its end. All that could be said was said.

Ricky left the office and Tony returned to his deep thoughts as he sipped on the remaining cognac in his cup.

After returning to his post in the club, Ricky’s mind started coming up with ideas so he decided to run with one. Following the guy seemed to be the best option he determined. It would at least give him a chance to find out who he was dealing with. With his mind made up, he told the other bouncers that he had to make a run to his car to get something so he needed someone to cover for him. They agreed so he left.

Outside of the club, Ricky looked around to see if he could find the guy in the crowd that was still mingling on the sidewalk. There was no sight of him so he walked through the crowd in the direction of the parking lot that was under the Interstate 4 Bridge. Just as he turned the corner, he spotted him opening his car door. It was show time, so he hurried across Garland Avenue.

Ricky walked quickly to his car. He kept his eyes glued on his target as he traveled in between the parked cars. He could see the guy was sitting in his car looking at something. This helped him make it to his car without being noticed.

FRANTIC MOMENTS

Patrick made it back to his car with an indifferent feeling about his confrontation with his lone dissenter. All things were a go as far as he was concerned. This was not his first rodeo so he knew what to expect. He would only make one trip. This was just to show his face. He liked to give the verbal warning personally so there would be no misunderstanding.

Everybody’s brave until they’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Watching your life flash before your eyes can be a real traumatic experience.

Patrick’s thoughts were a prelude to a gangster’s manifesto. He was a product of the streets. Mentality—Do or Die. If you had the means and he wanted it then you came face to face with The Boogey Man; a nickname he earned from the fear he instilled and the horrible dreams he left behind.

The word on the street was to stay out of his lane. Like the old timers would say, Some things are better left alone. For those who chose to roll the dice and take that chance, cold cases were filed away. No clues. No case. All bets were off.

This is going to be fun.

The joy in Patrick’s voice over random acts of violence reinforced the need for bigger budgets for psychiatric wards.

I don’t think he understands what Patrick can do, he continued. Speaking in third person only added to his psychosis.

Patrick’s mind switched gears as he read the text from the woman who was waiting at the hotel for him. The vulgar language and imagery got him excited so he sped out of the parking lot nearly hitting a homeless man holding a cardboard sign that read: I’m not going to lie. I need money for a beer.

Hey, watch that shit! the startled man screamed. The crowd that was walking through the parking lot turned toward the direction of the scream.

Patrick laughed at the man’s frantic response. The near miss got his blood flowing. Danger was his relief for his imbalance.

Leaving the parking lot, he made a left turn onto Garland Avenue and pulled up to the stoplight. After a quick glance into his rearview mirror, he spotted a black Taurus sedan pulling out of the parking lot. The driver positioned himself two cars back.

I see you back there. Are you sure you want to take this ride?

He adjusted his rearview mirror to get a better look. He saw a man sitting up peering over the steering wheel staring hard at his vehicle. Not the one to panic, he waited until the light turned green then pulled off slowly. The cars behind him switched lanes leaving the Taurus exposed. The Taurus driver switched lanes quickly and sped up.

Patrick took a deep breath. His right hand slid off the steering wheel. He reached into his waistband, pulled out his nine millimeter Glock, and placed it on his lap.

Let’s get this shit over with. I got somewhere to be.

His adrenaline level rose and his, fuck it, attitude resurfaced.

He let the front windows down and leaned the seat back. His peripheral vision caught the tinted window on the driver side of the Taurus slowly coming down. With his finger wrapped around the trigger, he could feel the euphoria. His crooked smile returned. The moment slowed.

Now riding side by side, he looked over to see who had a death wish. The man in the Taurus made his hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it at him. After pointing then snapping down his thumb, he pulled his hand back then blew on his fingers.

Not the one to be easily impressed, Patrick lifted his Glock and fired two rounds through the driver side door of the