LITMIR.BIZ

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heavily armed... what could possibly go wrong?” Ted concludes as he opens the door.

      The music screams a country song in a jukebox from the sixties when the three get inside. A thick, blue haze rolls off abundant joints filling the room in every corner.

      All the lips taking a mouthful of beer/smoke stop and stare at the law walking into their lair. A Bigfoot would not demand more attention if it grabbed a beer and ate the bartender for a snack.

      The three go to the bar and order a drink; it’s what you do in a bar, even one like this. Jim sees the two bikers that beat on Wayne playing pool in the far end. He whispers in Ted’s ear identifying them.

      Ted motions to the bartender who leans down to listen. “I won’t insult you with my I.D., but I do have a question. Who lives in the apartment above this bar?”

      “I do... why?” The bartender responds.

      “Is anybody up there now?” Ted answers with another question.

      “No... live alone.” The bartender answers.

      “Do you own any pets?” Ted inquires.

      “Where the hell is this going, cop?” The bartender demands.

      “These are the simple questions; do you want me to call S.W.A.T. down to ask the complicated ones?” Ted’s voice turns evil leaving little doubt he would do just that.

      “Nothing upstairs but dust and dirty laundry.” The bartender submits. The last question leaves a void in the bartender’s mind soon to be answered. Ted pulls out his .45 and shoots a round into the ceiling. Everyone in the place hits the deck reaching for weapons. Even Jim and Lance are startled by the move. Ted steps away from the bar, gun still in his hand.

      “Know this won’t come as a surprise, but I’m a cop owning a bad temper. Not here to arrest any of you fine gentlemen unless I don’t get what I want.” Ted puts his .45 back in the holster. “I need Moe and Curley down there,” He points toward the guilty two. “Come outside to fight my boy here. You know why... you put a computer geek in the hospital; he’s a friend, now it’s your turn. If not, I’m going to arrest you for assault and battery, take you downtown tonight.”

      For a long ten seconds the room is silent.

      Lance turns to Jim and whispers. “Hell of a plan, Ted.”

      Ted starts to reach for his weapon again when a rather large man stands up at a table in the corner. His name is Buster Rand and is obviously a man of position in the crowd.

      “Did you bust up a computer geek... is this cop speaking the truth?” Rand asks the two being called out.

      One of the two lays his pool cue down on the table and turns to Rand. “Yeah, but this guy...”

      “Shut the fuck up.” The big man interrupts. “Go outside... fight this man. If you lose, I’ll whip your ass again.”

      With that command the bar empties into the parking lot. Outside is another surprise, two black and white police cars and an unmarked cruiser is parked in the street. Seven cops are leaning against the cars waiting on the action to start.

      “Thought you didn’t bring backup?” Jim questions clearing the door, Ted next to him.

      Lance confesses. “I did text Reynolds before we got here... didn’t think he’d bring half the shift.”

      The cops start clapping as Jim gets close to the street and he raises a hand to acknowledge their backing. The bikers return the clap for their fighters.

      Rand raises his hands to calm everyone down.

      “Cop, what are the rules?”

      “No weapons, no outside help from anybody... one at a time.” Ted lays out the guidelines.

      The two bikers take jackets off and Jim sees what he’s up against. Both men are big and in their thirties. One is smoking a cigarette, a sure sign he won’t last long. He’s wearing short-heeled biker boots and from past experience, Jim knows they grip the street well. The other man is 6’5” and works out displaying a thick neck and even larger biceps. He wears cowboy boots and Jim is encouraged at the thought. Boots slide side-to-side in a fight and hard to maintain balance.

      The crowd forms a circle and the one smoking takes the cigarette and flips it at Jim’s feet.

      Ignoring the slight, Jim loosens his neck and back by rolling his shoulders. He fires off a number of jabs and right hooks into the air and anyone viewing instantly knew he’s an accomplished fighter.

      Screaming, the first man rushes toward Jim and swings a wild overhead right Jim easily ducks. The biker gets a fist to his ear and a jab to his throat stumbling by. Jim moves closer to the big man trying to regain his balance hitting him twice on the forehead and finishes the volley on a hard right to the bridge of his nose. Blood erupts from the broken nose and the biker goes to one knee. Jim backs up, intent on letting the biker regain his upright stance. He wants the man to see what’s coming his way.

      The biker realizes Jim is a much better fighter, but no choice remains other than taking the beating in front of the club. And a beating he got over the next few minutes. Jim pounds his chest and kidneys, he could knock him out at any point but delays the inevitable. The biker can barely stand up and starts to spit blood. A blur of punches to his mid-section and an uppercut to the bikers’ chin knocks two teeth curbside. Before he joins the teeth on the concrete, Jim swings a hard overhead right into a battered nose putting a period on the sentence. The big man hits the ground never moving. A couple buddies drag him to the side bleeding from several sources.

      The crowd stands but remains silent for several seconds witnessing what a trained fighter can do to a tough amateur. Ted starts clapping and several more cops join him. Jim didn’t hear anything at this juncture. His focus is intense and hopes the next guy has more fight in him. The man does.

      To his surprise the man has taken the cowboy boots off and kicking the air, a trained sense of authority and bare feet. Jim has worked out with martial art guys many times and knew it could be difficult if the biker combines a good skill set and large size. He will not go headlong into those tree trunk fitted feet if he could avoid it.

      The two circle the human ring sizing each other up. A fake move by a right hand fools Jim and he gets hit in the thigh by a large foot. Screams erupt from the Hells Angels. It didn’t hurt Jim, but made him more determined. Two fast jabs find the mark cutting the biker’s cheek, courtesy of a large ring from Slick’s Pawnshop. The big man gets mad and heads straight into a heavy right hand blowing up his eye. Jim quickly follows with four shots to his chin and chest. Blind on his right side by a swelling eye, the biker gets a lucky right hand to Jim’s throat in a moment of retreat. He rushes Jim, grabs his shoulder and knees Jim’s kidneys. Jim hits him hard on the chin whirling around.

      The fight ends when Jim hits the biker across the bridge of the nose followed closely with a hook to his remaining good eye. Five straight punches to the face falls him like a redwood tree. Jim stands over the limp body and spits on it. He heads back to the GTO satisfied.

      Ted walks to a Hells Angel jacket lying on the ground and picks it up. He points to the back of the jacket and the in scripted “HELLS ANGELS” screaming, “You fuckers not only can’t fight but are stupid too; there should be an apostrophe between Hell and the S.”

      He throws the jacket down next to the sleeping biker and walks away.

      CHAPTER TEN

      Midnight Hour

      JIM FLOORS THE accelerator on the GTO screeching away from the parking lot. The 389 engine quickly moves the car down the curving road toward The Booty Trap’. His self-image parallels the muscle car; fast, tough, and not to be messed with. He looks in the rearview mirror reflecting a swelling under his left eye. Another black eye worn with pride.

      How many people walk into a Hells Angel’s dive and call out two of the brotherhood? He did like Ted’s lack of tact and direct sense

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