Strange Angels

By Ernest Keegan

Marylou Caponi inherited the boxing gym she had practically grown up in from her late father. It isn't easy being in a male dominated business but her strong will and determination and savvy about the "game" make it work out most of the time. Dan McClain is her head trainer, a former fighter, a handsome leftover from her father's time. He and Marylou have been on and off lovers over the years. Now past 40 years of age but not appearing nearly so, she questions her own attractiveness to the opposite sex. Both Dan and Marylou deal with challenges, sometimes violent, brought to them in the new world order by their fighters, local drug dealers, pimps, muggers and cops looking for the easiest, quickest way to close unwanted cases, no matter how they do it. Theirs is and entangled love story minus the candy hearts and flowers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641383899

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a Maxfield Parrish sunset. The kind of sky that was brushed with vibrant multicolored clouds of iridescent red, orange, and gold against an azure blue canvas. It was God’s spectacular end of the day gift to a world that probably didn’t deserve it. At least some of the world’s inhabitants didn’t, he thought as he drove down the street past young couples dressed in their finery, frequenting the newly upscaled bistros and restaurants in this part of town. It was a revitalized neighborhood, a Phoenix up from the ashes of a few years ago when this whole area was decimated by the demise of the steel industry in our country. But the angels seemed to smile on this part of the city and directed the revitalization starting with a new state-of-the-art hospital and the arrival of technical giants such as Google and expansions of a multitude of medical facilities and universities. It seemed to be a complete 180-degree shift. The young people on the street showed it. They were the new generation, the hipsters, the millennials, out on the town.

And they looked great. At least the young women did. They were beautiful young people smiling and enjoying that God-given sunset he thought as he drove out of this new wonderland and went into a part of the city that just hadn’t reblossomed yet. It would in time, he thought, but it would take time. He drove past a group of five girls, and at his age, they were all girls standing on a street corner. As he came closer and slowed down they called to him. They weren’t just hanging out for fun and enjoying each other’s company like the others he had just passed ten minutes ago. No, these were business girls. He was the business client and they were the goods. He surveyed and assessed them, comparing them in his mind to the happy, full-of-life young women of a few blocks away. They came to the curb, so he could get a better view of the merchandise. The five smiled and shimmied.

He caught the eye of one of the girls and she stopped. She recognized him, and although she didn’t realize it, he recognized her. She immediately turned, lowered her eyes and head. She stepped away from the others, heading back to the rear of the sidewalk, fumbling in her purse as if she was trying to find something much more important than a john in a waiting car and the money he might have for her. He smiled at the girls as he shook his head and drove on. She shouldn’t have to be here, none of them should. They all had their reasons. He knew hers. She should be with the others in that totally different world that was physically only a few city blocks away but in reality existed across the universe to these five girls. He had been thinking about what he was going to do. He had planned it. He just needed the right time and incentive. That beautiful sunset and the festive couples were the incentive. Seeing the faces of the beautiful people verses the sallow faces with plastic smiles on these girls made the decision for him. Tonight was the right time.

Beautiful people, they were the rainbow after the storm, with dreams that would definitely be fulfilled. These girls were each living in a hurricane that would not calm and in nightmare days continuously. The girl that had turned away was named Trish. She was Tommy Wilks’s girlfriend. They should have a chance to be a couple smiling and enjoying that Maxfield Parrish sunset, he thought, as small drops of rain started to hit the windshield of his car, growing until he had to turn on the wipers in agreement with the atmosphere of the streets. It would only be a quick shower but enough to rain on the parade of the girls in his rearview mirror. They would scamper into open hallways and doorways, waiting and watching through hollow eyes and they would return. In a short time the failing sunlight would give way to the moon and darker skies. His mind was made up. He would return.

Chapter 2

Several hours later his six-foot frame casually walked the dark tree-lined street, street lights giving a mirrored cast to the wet sidewalks dimpled with puddles from the rain that had just ended. Good, because it meant less people to run into, less to see and be seen by. His gate was no longer that of a cheetah as when he was young and in his prime but now more of a sure-footed lion. A cool breeze cut across his chiseled features. The nose that had sustained so much punishment in the past was still relatively straight. The thin white line above his left eye, the one that glowed a deep pink when he was angry, was now barely noticeable, no indication that it had once required eighteen stitches to close. A gaping wound that had been caused by a deliberate head butt years ago when he made his living as a professional fighter. He pulled his ball cap down and his dark blue hoodie up over it.

This time of year the tree limbs above were still full enough to give him cover from any passing cars even though at this time of night they were few. He glanced at the dashboards of the parked cars as he passed. He ignored the items left by owners oblivious to the incentive they gave two bit thieves looking for a quick, easy buck. He knew what he was looking for. It didn’t take long. The thoughtful driver of an older-model gray Lincoln town car had been kind enough to leave the keys dangling in the ignition. It was the perfect size for the job. Out came the slim-jim from under his jacket and into the side of the Lincoln’s driver side window. He was in the car with ease before you could say car theft. With a turn of the key the engine came to life, and he quietly guided the car down the still and empty street. He drove for about ten minutes, turned into a vacant alley, and parked with the motor running. He exited the car and walked to the rear. He unrolled the magnetic license plate from his coat pocket and placed over the car’s existing one.

Returning to the driver seat, he checked his wristwatch for the time and threw the car into drive. He flipped on the headlights and pulled out of the alley and onto the main street. He drove three blocks, pulled over to the curb, and placed the car in park. He left the motor running. He looked at his watch again, adjusted the dark hoodie so it covered his head. He put on a pair of sunglasses and slid down into the seat to wait for the door at the front of the bar on the next block to open.

Chapter 3

The inside of Irene’s Bar and Grill was all but empty. The last call for drinks had been made at least an hour ago. The front door was locked but the rear door to the alley was always open to paying customers, especially in the wee hours of the morning when someone may really need that one last one for the road or an eye-opener for the morning commute to work or church. Pinky Johnson laid his cards down and picked up the bills in front of him.

That’s it for me, he said.

He pushed his chair away from the table and stuffed the bills in his pocket.

I’ll be on the corner bumming coins from the churchgoers if I stay here much longer with you sharks, Pinky said.

There’s plenty more where that came from, piped up Manny Kreiger.

That’s exactly where I’m headed. If I’m late, my girls might get some ridiculous idea that the money they make actually belongs to them, snarled Pinky.

We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we, guys? asked Manny.

The other three men at the table laughed. Pinky rocked his five-foot-six-inch body toward the door, occasionally banging his 230-pound frame into one of the tables in his path, dragging his cashmere overcoat on the floor behind him. Pinky was not the neatest person in world, but it didn’t bother him in the least. He only cared about one thing, money. He liked it, no, loved it. He knew he was never going to be the lady’s man like the star in a movie picture. He knew he was down right on the ugly side, but he had more girls than most of them anyway. They work for him and would do anything, as long as they got paid, that is. No one picked on him anymore the way the kids did when he was young. He was overweight with a pockmarked face and a thinning comb-over, not the best-looking bum on the block and didn’t talk the same as those movie-star guys, but around here he was the king of the jungle. It was his turf, his merchandise that filled these streets. That meant everything from booze to drugs to broads. He walked over a lot of people to get here. When he went through that door, people knew who he was. Maybe some of them didn’t approve of him or what he did for a living, but even they partook of his offerings at one time or another, even those sanctimonious hypocrites that turned up their noses and looked down at him. When he stepped on to his streets even the traffic stopped.

They may not like him, but they feared him, and that was good enough for him. You going to make it, Pinky? called one of the men.

I’m good. Straight as an arrow, answered Pinky.

Ya, when he fills his pockets with the dough the girls are going to hand over, even if he falls on his ass, he won’t feel it, said Manny.

They all laughed again. Grunting, Pinky opened the deadbolt lock and pushed through the front door onto the street.

Chapter 4

The bar door opened to the street and Pinky emerged. He pulled his coat up around his face. He hated the damp, the wet. He was headed south one of these days as soon as he had enough cash. Cash was hard to store up these days. You had to grease everyone’s palms now. If it weren’t the cops and local political leeches, it was the local do-gooders. If you didn’t they would start a campaign to clean up the local neighborhood for the children. Who the hell were they kidding? he thought. If they had raised the girls the right way, they wouldn’t be working for him in the first place. Dan McLain sat in the car, looked at his watch, and thought, right on time. Pinky was always right on time, same time same station every night. You could count on it. In fact Dan did tonight and it paid off. Dan saw him stagger a bit to the curb. He pushed the accelerator down and quickly arrived just in front of Pinky as he began to cross. Pinky stepped back, startled. Dan hit the brakes and flashed his lights to give the wary man the go ahead. Pinky answered with an exaggerated bow and started across the vacant street.

Well, some people still recognize class and know their betters when they see them thought Pinky as he hit the middle range of the hood of the hulking vehicle. But Pinky was Pinky. He just couldn’t help himself, he just couldn’t. He raised his right hand and gave the driver of the car that let him pass, a middle-finger salute. Dan McClain calmly pressed down on the gas pedal.

The car rolled over Pinky, just fast enough to keep him from calling out as his head thudded on the concrete beneath the car. Dan backed up and rolled over the immovable lump beneath him. His forward motion guaranteed that it was mission accomplished. Dan drove down the still vacant street. It started to rain again. The red line below Pinky’s head fanned out and around it, mixing with the landing liquid like a beautiful southern sunset that he never would experience.

Chapter 5

Dan drove back streets that led to a part of town that had seen its heyday during the Second World War. It made the steel that won the war and saved the free world. None of that mattered now. Very few remembered, at least in their hearts, where it truly mattered. They showed up for the holiday parades. They all said they remembered how Dad or Uncle came back or never returned. Even worse how some came back from combat broken, physically or mentally, or both. They said many things about the community. That was it. That was all. The proof was all around him as he drove. The one time powerhouse of America was now a testament of how we can forget. As the politicians are so fond of saying, Move forward. The whole damn area was a testament to blight, disarray, and stagnant thought. It was a sinking quagmire in and around the people who still lived here even though they couldn’t or wouldn’t see it, another deceased soldier from the greatest generation, slowly crumbling to rust and dust. Dan pulled over on the bridge that gave entrance and exit to the area.

The wide river it spanned now dark and ominous. A river once lined with so many steel and glass mills that the sun would be blocked out until noon on the brightest of days and one writer said at night it must be what hell looks like with the lid off. He looked around through the rain, which had picked up in intensity. No one was about. He exited the car and removed his sunglasses, jacket, and hoodie. He rounded the car and removed the magnetic plate that covered the car’s real one. He stepped to the bridge railing and tossed everything over, adding the slim-jim to the mix. He returned to the car and drove to a vacant alley. There was one car sitting there. Thankfully it appeared to be undisturbed from when he had left it a few hours earlier. The roadwork he still did paid off. The thirty minutes it took to run to the Lincoln’s neighborhood was nothing. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He pulled up behind his own car. He killed the Lincoln’s engine but left the keys in the ignition just as he had found them. He knew that the car wouldn’t sit there long. This was an area of opportunities. A Lincoln—even an older one with the doors unlocked and the keys in the ignition—was a great one, too good to pass up. He got into his own car and drove back to his apartment. As he lay down to sleep he wondered if what he did would