The old crew assembled like a thunderbolt. Nate, Deacon, Brian DiMarco, Carlos “The Mexican Lion” Nunez, his little brother Mario, Ian Jackson and Jermaul White. Though all of them besides Brian DiMarco were now doing their best to assimilate into responsible adult society in their early twenties, this was not always the case. In their teen years, these seven guys were legendary and among the toughest in all the Back of the Yards. They had grown up constantly outnumbered, having to fight and claw for every inch that they had gained in life, fighting against teachers, authorities and the seemingly overwhelming numbers within the ranks of the various street gangs that held control over much of the Southside, and the Yards in particular.
Though the dangerous local gangs boasted superior numbers, superior weaponry, and in most cases, superior savagery, the group of seven friends built a reputation among the gangs, bullies, teachers and authorities of the hard streets of the Southside neighborhood. Where one of them fought, the other six would soon jump in. And though they might be beaten down and left for dead, anyone that dared mess with them soon learned that they would fight to the death, to the last man. To fight with any one of them meant to fight with every one of them, and to stop them would require seven murders, or they would never stop coming back for more. Though respect and fear were the currency of the streets, the other gangs eventually learned to leave these guys alone, they had learned it was just too much trouble to fight them, even if they won, they would lose. Since the crew only wished to fight to hold their own ground and weren’t looking to encroach the gangs’ drug or prostitution businesses there was nothing much to gain in fighting them either. For men not afraid to lose and lose again were sometimes the most dangerous of all.
Now the crew had descended upon the Excaliber nightclub. They went in separately around sundown and dispersed. Deacon and Nate took Zoe with them into the rock and roll bar. Carlos and Mario, who both looked and acted like a mixture of “cooler than you” 50s greasers and Italian mobsters, with white T-shirts and rolled sleeves, moved around mostly the lounge areas, trying to pick up any information among the people sitting around talking. Brian DiMarco took a position at the bar, nobody trusted him with anything complicated. Finally, the two black men, Ian and Jermaul, went down to the pool hall and waited.
As the sounds of Asia’s “Only Time Will Tell” blared out of the speakers in the rock n’ roll bar, Nate continued an impassioned debate with a half-drunken middle-aged working-class man with a neatly trimmed gray beard.
“Dude, classic rock is so bullshit man. I mean, think about it, how many deep, meaningful songs have you heard that have been completely ruined by the classic rock radio stations? Take “Stairway to Heaven” for example. I mean, it just doesn’t mean anything anymore, it’s just a catchy tune now….we’ve heard it too many times. Hotel California? I mean no matter how many times you stab it with your steely knife you just can’t kill that beast. In fact, all of the Eagles pretty much, The Doors, I mean it’s all ruined.”
“Well…” The older man took a drink from a draft beer and pointed his finger. “You’re not really making an argument on why classic rock is bullshit then. You’re really making an argument on why classic rock stations are bullshit.”
Nate began to speak but stopped and cocked an eyebrow, mulling it over inside of his head before responding.
“Well yeah, maybe you’re right man. Maybe it’s the stations that are bullshit. But that all goes back to the materialism and the government bullshit I was talking about earlier. I mean, do you think the radio chooses their own playlists? Naw man! The government gives them lists of “approved songs” Safe songs. Can’t have the population stepping out of line, can’t have them thinking for themselves. That’s why metal is the last great bastion of human expression. I mean, they won’t play “And Justice for All” or anything real on the radio. The sheep might wake up! And when the sheep wake up? We’ll have another revolution on our hands. The government knows this! It’ll be 1667 all over again!”
“!776?”
“Yeah man whatever!” Nate took a drink and lit another cigarette.
Deacon listened to his friend and chuckled while taking a drink of his own beer and flicking the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. Nate was a natural social butterfly and could find conversation and human interaction anywhere and everywhere he went. Deacon was exactly the opposite, naturally distrustful and reserved. Nate received energy from human interaction while Deacon received energy from being alone. It was a wonder they had remained friends all these years.
“I mean that’s exactly…look at our drugs laws man, do they make any sense? I mean think about it, they’re kicking down doors and putting millions of people into little cages all because of weed? Really?”
“Yeah, but drugs destroy lives.” The drunk man replied.
“So, our government basically says to people…Dude, drugs will ruin your life, so to stop you from taking drugs and ruining your life, we are going to arrest you and throw you in a cell, put a felony on your record forever and ruin your life. What sense does that make? Tell me, when was the last time you seen someone smoke a joint and go off and beat his wife or rob a bank or something? Now can you say the same thing…” Nate held up his glass of beer and chugged the remaining third of the glass before slamming it back to the counter. “…about this? So, it’s not at all about helping people or reducing crime or some shit like that, what’s the war on drugs really about then?”
The man seemed to contemplate this deeply, the young blonde rocker was challenging his worldview there in a Chicago bar at sundown on a Thursday evening. “Money?” He finally guessed.
“Money, well yeah in a way everything is about money, that’s not wrong. We got private prisons in America that get government funding for every prisoner they have in there, so naturally there’s an incentive to have as many as they can cram in….but no! The real issue here is control! With the songs on the radio, the shows on TV, the drugs they approve for us and disapprove, it’s all about controlling the masses, what we think, see, hear and even what we talk about.”
“So it all goes back to classic rock then, Rolling Stones “Under my Thumb!”
“Exactly!” Nate’s face scrunched up then for a second and took another drag from his cigarette. “Well, close enough anyway.”
Just then, Jermaul came in, sneering unconsciously at all the white people in this section of the club. He walked straight over to the pair and wedged himself against the bar next to their two stools.
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“Yo, they down there, just like you described.”
“How many?” Deacon asked.
“I counted two Dagos, six honky biker motherfuckers and about seven brothers. All Vice Lords I think.”
“Alright, stick to the plan, we’ll be down soon.” The crew’s fearless leader, Nate responded.
Jermaul left as Zoe was coming back from the bathroom. At the same time, Mario nodded from one of the doorways into this section. Deacon nodded to him, and Mario nodded back, the signal they had found Easy, the guy that this all had started with.
“What’d I miss?” Zoe asked. They hadn’t been there long, but already the young woman had managed to put a good buzz on by her giggly nature and glassy eyes. Deacon thought about it for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea that they were all drinking before they set out to execute their plan. He dismissed it quickly though, drinking made all problems better… and worse…so in the end it probably equaled out.
“We’re almost ready to move.” Deacon replied, his focus on the other side of the room where Mario had come in from and once again disappeared. “Stay here with Nate, I’ll be back.”
The young cab driver had his hair down, which now fell around the shoulders of his black leather jacket wildly. He was never the largest man in the room, but he had a certain rough edged heavy metal caveman look that made him look intimidating well above his weight class. He kicked back a shot of whisky and rose from the stool, giving her a little wink before striding out of the room with purpose. She replaced him at the bar and trailed his exit from the room with her cold blue eyes.
“So, you’re his best friend, what’s the deal with him?” Zoe asked Nate in an explosive manner, as if it were a question that had to be posed now or forever be buried within her own self-consciousness.
“Ah, you wanna know his deal?” Nate grinned knowingly. “What do you wanna know about him?”
“Well, everything. I mean, I’m not used to being around a guy so rugged so…fearless.”
“Fearless is exactly right. I’ve known that man since we were kids, and let me tell you, he was always the first guy to stand up to a bully or even a group of bullies, even when they were all a lot bigger than him, which to be honest, they all were. I’ve never seen him back down or be afraid of anything. Anything.”
“So, he’s got a chip on his shoulder then?”
“Yeah, but well, yeah we all do. See, you grew up rich, probably lived in nice safe neighborhoods your whole life, so there’s no way to really teach you what it’s like being from the Yards and all. You just can’t understand. But growing up and living your whole life, seeing how the other side lives on the North Side…always being told you’re just scum from the Southside…no matter how hard you work, what you do, you’ll never be good enough, you’ll always just be a Southsider. Always being looked at like a criminal just ‘cause of the area you grew up in. It gets under your skin and makes a home there. You eventually get comfortable with being “the bad guy”, y’know? You accept it. Embrace it.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed in a cute way while she mulled this over. She reached across Nate and stole one of the shots they had lined up and swigged it down. She coughed as the burn caught up with her but tried to hide it. Like how she imagined a Southside chick from this new lifestyle she was being exposed to would have done.
“So, who’s this Sarah chick?” She then asked sideways at Deacon’s charismatic friend.
“Sarah? What do you wanna know about Sarah?” Nate asked in a mockingly suspicious tone. He had something about him that just made him naturally trustworthy, though she figured that probably made it easier for him to con people if he chose to. And something about his easy demeanor told her he was an excellent conman.
“I dunno. Who is she? Is she Deacon’s girlfriend? He seems to have a lot of girls in his life.”
“Ex! Ex-girlfriend.” Nate emphasized. “Thank God too. Man, Sarah was just some Southside trash hoe, just like most of ‘em, but Deacon thought she was the tops. She had a pretty face that made her look innocent, and Deacon got conned by it all. It was just an act; it was always just an act.”
“Somehow, I can’t imagine him going for a really trashy girl. In fact, I can’t imagine what type of girl would be his ‘type’. I guess some super tough chick?”
“Naw man, that’s bullshit. Lemme tell ya somethin’ about ol’ Deke. Sarah was real good at this two faced act. She acted all innocent and like a typical “nice” girl, but she was just using him. That’s what girls like her do, they just go through life using guys to get up in life, until they can’t go up any higher, then they settle. But even then, they ain’t content and the first opportunity to move up again? They take it in a heartbeat. Deacon is such a straightforward and honest dude, that he can’t even imagine there are people out there that aren’t like him. See, he actually fell for her, like truly, but for her? He was just a good time for a while. She was totally a slut and a hoe and he deserved better.”
“She broke his heart, didn’t she?” Zoe asked while watching the other man’s expression carefully.
“Totally. But he’s too tough to admit it. Deacon isn’t looking for some tough chick. He’s just looking for an honest one. And that’s hard to find in our neighborhood. These girls are just out to get what they can get from a guy and then move on to the next guy.”
“That’s sad. Honestly sad.”
“Why’d you say he has a lot of girls in his life? You wondering if Deke is a player?”
“Well there was this other girl that started screaming at him at his apartment. She seemed…attached.”
Nate laughed heartily. “You mean Gina? Man, that broad is crazy! She’s been after him for years. She’s a certifiable stalker.”
A lull in the conversation ensued as Zoe took this information in and Nate watched her.
“So, what about you? You got a man?” Nate finally broke the silence.
“Ehh.” Zoe returned an answer that qualified more as a noise than language. “I did kind of.”
“Oh, come on now, you have to tell me what the deal is here. I mean, it’s not like every day or anything that I get a chance to meet some superhot model and get all up in her business. And now you’re asking all these questions about my homie?”
“Well, I was seeing this guy. I guess we never technically broke up. He was a Hollywood guy, I don’t wanna turn it into a thing, so I won’t mention a name. But he was really good looking and everything and at first, I was all into him. But then things changed. He was so…” Zoe looked around the room searching for the right words. “…damn pansy about everything.”
“Pansy?” Nate laughed.
“Yeah! He was so worried about how he looked all the time. And everything had to be custom tailored, custom manicured. And I put up with it all and everything, he cared more about how he looked than I did, but then he cheated on me and like…”
“Oh shit. Brutal.”
“Yeah. After that I felt done. I wasn’t gonna put up with that from a feminine guy like that.”
“Yeah fuck ‘im!”
Zoe laughed and covered her mouth.
“No c’mon you gotta say it! Get it out of your system. Fuck ‘im!”
“Fuck him!”
“Can’t believe homeboy cheated on a bangin’ fox like you.” Nate smiled wide. “So, you got a thing for him?”
“Who?” Zoe asked as if the question had been an accusation.
“Deacon. That’s why you’re asking all these questions, right?”
Zoe had been in the middle of downing another shot and coughed heavily, whether from the harshness of the drink or from the question or some combination of the two was unclear. One thing was clear to Nate, who had in fact conned many people in his day and had become well versed in reading people over his life. Her eyes lit up when they talked about him.
Deacon came back into the bar then. And Zoe turned around quickly.
“Oh hey, it’s Deacon. What’s up?” She said awkwardly.
Behind him were Carlos and Mario on either side of the pusher known as Easy. They walked through the bar area, exchanged eye contact before making their way towards the basement area.
“Gotta go babe. Don’t worry, we’ll get your friend back.” Nate gave Zoe a reassuring smile before getting up to follow.