I'm very sorry to have been so long getting this one ready, but as you all know, summer is vacation time. For some reason, Planetaccess.com has ceased to exist, so I have a new email account at Hotmail.com. If you've sent me messages in the last 4-5 weeks, I didn't get them, and haven't been able to respond. The new email is right below.
Thanks, Dan Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Paper Tiger 3: A prelude to war
Anthony Salieri leaned his enormous bulk back into the high backed leather chair at his desk and exhaled pungent cigar smoke. His heavy jowls and small eyes peered menacingly out at the men assembled in his office. "Almost don't mean a fucking thing, boys. We almost stopped Rivera from buying that resort, and we almost stopped the family from losing almost a hundred million dollars!" His voice rose to an almost female-pitched scream, and his fat hand slapped the desk in front of him, causing everything on it to jump.
"Now I'll tell you what's going to happen. Palmerii's will call me in about thirty minutes, and I will tell Federico Palmerii that we are dealing with the problem. "Little Tony pointed at his trusted right hand man, Benny Carlins. "Benny, you take some boys to Mexico. Find out who's doing the work on Buena Point. Make as much trouble as you can." He pointed at the next man in line and narrowed his eyes. "I want every person in Vegas working for Rivera to have as much trouble getting shit done as possible, got it?"
"Yeah, Tony." The man nodded, and the two of them turned to leave. Tony turned to the last two men in his office. The tallest, a muscular man of almost forty, tall, with silver hair, was known as Scorpio. The shorter of the two, just as muscular but only 5'6" tall and about twenty-five, called him self Cannon. The first was a hired assassin, the last an arms expert.
"You boys, I need you two to find out about this man." He handed them a picture of Rocky Rockport. "Rumor has it the him and the kid that blew away five of my guys are brothers. Their good, but I think that we can use them to throw Manny Rivera off guard. I want to know everything about them. Where they eat, where they shit, if their seeing any broads, the whole goddamn thing, got it?" They nodded silently, and Tony laced his fingers over his stomach. "Good. I also want a plan to eliminate one or both of them."
Tyler wiped his hand across his face, pulling it out of shape and releasing his cheeks. His hands shook, and he pushed the clammy sheets away, now wide-awake. In the dream he'd just had, he was in the hallway of McAuliffe's mansion, only he'd been sitting on the floor cradling Rocky's dead body. Rocky's chest had been riddled with bullet holes.
Tyler looked at the alarm clock and shook his head in disgust. It was 4:45 am, and like it or not, he was up for the day. He headed for the shower, but on second thought grabbed his swimming suit and pulled it on, threw on some sandals, and grabbed a towel. It was unlikely that he would meet anyone before he got in the water, but just in case he stopped and wet his matted hair down and combed it.
The elevator deposited him at the roof level, and he made his way through the dressing room and showers. Splashing sounds emanated from the open door, and Tyler was surprised to walk out and find Manny swimming laps. For a minute he considered going back to the apartment, preferring to be alone, but it would be rude to leave just because Manny was there. With a sigh, he put his towel over the back of a lounger and kicked off his sandals.
"Good morning, Tiger!" Manny's voice boomed from the other end of the pool. "I had no idea you were an early riser. It's good for you, isn't it?"
Tyler looked at the athletically built older man and smiled lopsidedly. "Uh, actually I couldn't sleep." He walked down the steps into the pool and stretched out and paddled towards Manny.
"You're having trouble with what happened at McAuliffe's, huh?" Manny pushed himself out to sit on the edge of the pool. "Carlos said that it hit you hard. You know, you can't let it eat you up, Tyler."
Tyler slid up to the side and hooked his elbow over the lip. "I know it's stupid, but I can't stop thinking about it. I never killed anyone before. It's like going crazy."
"Listen to me, El Tigre'," Manny leaned forward on his knees. "If you ever like killing, I will make sure that you disappear. I don't employ murderers. I employ men like you and Rocky to protect me and my family from murderers, do you understand?" Tyler nodded, and Manny continued. "Not so many years ago, I was doing what you are now. I had to kill a man to protect my father, and it made me sick and uncertain. My father told me this. If you murder a man, God will burn you in hell. If you save a life, you sit with God. Morgan Larsen said to me that he has heard the roar of the Tiger, and that he has seen the Tiger fight. You've shown a great honor to this family, Tyler. There is no reason to feel shame or guilt."
Tyler looked down in to the water, taken with how accurate Manny was. He nodded his head and looked up at Manny. "It's hard, though. I have nightmares about it."
"They will continue until you reconcile you feelings, kiddo. All I can tell you is that you did the right thing, and that you'll more than likely do it again for the same reasons." Manny sat back and leaned on his hands. "I have an idea for you, though. When I can't figure the future out, I go look at the past and see where I am. Why don't you take one of the cars and drive back to your old stomping grounds?"
"Does it help?" Tyler pushed himself up onto the side and leaned back on his hands.
"Does for me. I grew up in L.A. in a neighborhood that is a battle zone. I'm not saying I'm a saint, Tiger, but I don't kill unless I have to protect a life, and I won't get into the drug trade. Most of the dealers in this area pay us to leave them alone because they know I would kill them all if I wanted to."
"So it's like a series of bigger and smaller evils, huh?" Tyler ground that over in his mind, starting to see sense.
"Yeah, that's right." Manny smiled and put his hand on Tyler's shoulder. "Morgan may not be squeaky clean, but you saved his life. He never murdered anyone. Neither did McAuliffe, God rest him. Tony on the other hand, he's a snake. No honor at all. I think soon I'll need an army to beat Little Tony."
"Will he retaliate?" Tyler asked.
Manny sighed and nodded his head. "I don't know where or when, but he will." He slid back into the water. "You let me worry about that, Tiger. You just keep my family and associates safe for me, okay?" He held out his hand and took Tyler's and shook it. "That's all I ask."
"Yes, sir." Tyler smiled and shook hands. He felt better, and he definitely had more respect for his employer. He slid into the water as well. "Thanks Manny."
"You're a good kid, Tyler, you just need to keep it in perspective. How about some laps?" Manny pushed off for the end of the pool.
"Then maybe some breakfast." Tyler followed, stroking towards the end of the pool.
At a few minutes to seven, Tyler let himself in the front door of the apartment and tossed his towel towards his room, kicked off his sandals, and then jogged into Rocky's room.
Rocky was still asleep, and barely opened his eyes in time to see Tyler in mid-flight, leaping from the end of the bed to land on top of Rocky. "Oh, shit!" He squawked, deflecting Tyler to the side.
"I can't believe you're still asleep!" Tyler laughed and straddled Rocky's waist and lay down on his chest, putting their faces only inches away. Rocky's arms came up around his back, and he pushed forward and kissed Rocky on the lips. "Those pain pills fuck you up, don't they?"
"Yeah, they do." Rocky ran his hand over the side of Tyler's face. "You're obviously feeling better today. I thought we were going to have to find you a shrink." Rocky had been concerned about Tyler's depression, but hadn't said anything. Ever since they'd gotten back from California, Tyler wouldn't eat and spoke only in monosyllables. Hopefully that was over now.
"When does Brian get here to change your bandages?" Tyler asked, rolling off Rocky onto the bed. Rocky had taken a minor graze wound near his knee in California, which had become very infected and had put him on a cane for the last week.
"In an hour. Why?" Rocky scratched his head, then jumped as he felt Tyler's hand under the covers.
"I thought I could help him out with your motion exercises today." Tyler grinned like a wolf and slid the covers down. Rocky slept nude, and the kid pulled the sheet off the bed, "I got my exercise with Manny swimming laps. You don't have that option." Before Rocky could say a word, Tyler leaned down and took Rocky's rapidly hardening pole into his mouth. Rocky grunted and rested his head back on the pillow.
Tyler was like a demon, working with his hands and mouth in rapidly changing rhythms until Rocky's extremely muscular body was shaking from the exertion it took to not shook immediately. Tyler stopped and grinned again, then stood up by the side of the bed and peeled of his damp suit. "Best part, boss." He said quietly, running his hands over his own stomach and chest, then making himself hard in a private floorshow.
Rocky couldn't help but notice how much Tyler had filled out in the month and a half since they'd met. The skinny but defined young boy was not becoming the cut and sculpted young man right before his eyes, and he rolled on to his side and grabbed Tyler's wrist, pulling him down for a long deep kiss.
Tyler pulled a drawer open in the nightstand next to the bed and pulled out a tube of lube gel. While still kissing Rocky, he put some in his hand and began to massage it on to Rocky's now eight-inch hard cock. Satisfied that it was slick enough, he straddled Rocky again, never breaking the kiss, and backed himself slowly onto his lover's shaft.
"Oh, God." Rocky mumbled as the tight warmth of Tyler enveloped him.
"No, Tyler." Tyler whispered and began to slide slowly back and forth. "God's taller and has a beard." The feeling of Rocky's length sliding in and finding his magic spot, then sliding slowly out to start again caused Tyler to get distracted. Rocky's hand, slick with lube, wrapped around his own pole, and Tyler closed his eyes and leaned on his hands, almost purring.
"Here it comes." Rocky groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet Tyler's ass.
Unintentionally, he quickened his pace on Tyler, causing the kid to grit his teeth, trying not to cum to fast. Their breathing almost synchronized, each trying to stop the inevitable for as long as they could. Rocky groaned as he felt the pressure build, and he tightened his abs, trying to hold it in.
Tyler's breathing became ragged, and he tightened his grip on Rocky, feeling him shiver. He closed his eyes and arched his back, sending torrents of fluids out onto Rocky's chest. "Aaagh!" He groaned, and Rocky bucked under him, filling him with warm stickiness. Tyler collapsed forward on to Rocky, his juices spreading between them.
"You're trying to kill me." Rocky gasped, running his hand through Tyler's sweat matted hair. "Before you showed up, I think I was only pretending to cum."
"I know I was." Tyler mumbled, resting his head on Rocky's shoulder. "Making love to you isn't sex, it's like going to church and worshiping the perfect experience."
Rocky laughed and kissed Tyler's forehead. "Help me get up, hero. Brian will be here pretty quick." The kid groaned and whined as he slid off, and Rocky caught a whiff of their remains. "Oh, man. Take the sheets off the bed, will you? We made a big stink."
"I actually thought it smelled cool." Tyler favored him with a sultry glare. He stood up and walked around the bed to help Rocky up, taking a second to be awed by his beautiful physique, then helped him limp to the shower. After Rocky got in, he dashed around the room cleaning up clothes and putting them in the hamper, then put fresh sheets on the bed and made it up.
When he finished, he trotted to his room, scooping up his suit and sandals as he went, and jumped in the shower. With lightening speed he washed, rinsed, and jumped out to dry off, stopping to check the stitches on his left hip. They had finally dissolved somewhat, and he tugged them out and tossed them in the toilet. He glanced at the dot-like scars on his shoulder and was satisfied that they had healed; although Rocky teased him about playing connect the dots.
Still dashing around in a hurry, he pulled on a pair of bikinis and some black cargo shorts, then took a sleeveless silver muscle shirt with a high neck out and tugged it on.
He jammed his pistol into the pocket, slipped on his sandals, and was putting his hair back in a tail as he came out of his room, nearly colliding with Brian.
"Wow, what's the hurry, Ty?" Brian laughed, catching himself on the couch.
"Oh, God! I'm sorry, Brian. I was trying to get ready so I could help Rocky before I leave." Tyler's face flushed deep red. "I didn't here you come in."
"It's okay. I just hollered in to Rock, and he said he's fine." Brian sat down at the table and crossed his legs. "I have to take him down to the clinic, so he might be out for awhile."
"Okay, cool." Tyler headed for the door. "See you around, Doc." He waved and let himself out. He took the elevator to the family garage and picked up a set of keys from the attendant, a nice Mexican kid that did a lot of odd jobs for the Riveras.
"Hey, man. Mr. R says to take this one to the shop. They give you another one to drive." He handed Tyler a slip of paper with an address on it. "He also says have a good time." The boy smiled at Tyler and offered a mock salute.
"Thanks, Ronny." Tyler loped across the garage to the car, a Ford Taurus, and climbed in. It was a grandma car, but maybe they would give him something better at the garage.
He wanted to impress his old friends. Traffic was light as he pulled out, and it only took about twenty minutes to reach the garage.
The building was a huge warehouse type of structure, with windows running around the top of the wall, just below the roof. Paint peeled of the bricks, and weeds grew out of cracks in the concrete. Tyler seriously considered calling in and seeing if Ronny had been leading him on.
The roll up door closest to the small office door suddenly rolled up, and Tyler jumped. A short heavyset man in his fifties waddled out carrying a tire and through it onto a pile. He cursed in Spanish and gestured at someone in the shop, then noticed Tyler standing there. "Ah, you're El Tigre, eh?" The man's face transformed into a smile. "I was wondering where you are."
"Ronny told me to bring this car down to you, and to pick one up." Tyler shook the man's hand, liking him already for some reason.
"Come inside, El Tigre, and tell me what you do for Manny that would make him so happy with you." The man waved his hand towards the door. "I'm Berto Guiterez."
"Tyler Rockport." Tyler followed him into the shop, impressed with its cleanliness, a stark contrast to the outside.
"So, Tyler," Berto walked into the office and sat down, offering Tyler a seat, then put his feet up on the desk, taking out a bandana and wiping his forehead. "Rumor has it that you are one mean son of a bitch in a fight."
"Manny's pretty free with the praise, I think." Tyler leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
"Not the Manny Rivera I know. You don't impress him easily at all." Berto took to sodas out of a small fridge and tossed one to Tyler. "He's a demanding prick, but the most loyal man I ever met."
"He's been decent to me. They all have." Tyler cracked open the tab on the can and sipped at it.
"You know why you're here, Tiger Rockport?" Berto asked, catching Tyler in a penetrating gaze.
"To service the car?"
Berto laughed and leaned forward. "Manny didn't send you here to pick up any car. He sent you here to pick one for yourself."
Tyler knew that he had a stupid look on his face, and he was also aware that his jaw was hanging open. He couldn't do anything about either problem for the few seconds it took to process this information. "Manny's giving me a car?" He tried not to sound to incredulous, but it was hard to help.
"He likes to keep his hired help bought. Not just any car, either. A third row car." Berto smiled, enjoying the kid's discomfort.
"What does that mean?" Tyler asked, confused.
"Come on, I'll show you." Berto heaved himself up out of his chair and clapped Tyler on the back. "I can see what Manny likes about you. You're pretty straight forward, aren't you?"
Tyler thought for a second about what he had done with Rocky not even an hour ago and laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." They walked through the shop towards a large red roll up door. Tyler watched as Berto put in a security code on a little keypad, and the door started up.
"In here, there are three rows of cars. The first row is fast, but not well armored, or not armored at all." He led Tyler into the vast cavern and pointed at the rows. "The second row in armored, but not very heavy, and has been worked over for speed and handling." He led Tyler to the last row. "And these are heavily armored, faster than hell, and will turn on a dime." Berto smiled at the boy. "You can have anything in here you want."
"You're shitting me." Tyler blushed; looking at the cars and feeling his imagination go wild. There were Corvettes, Firebirds, Camaros, Trucks, Mustangs, a Viper, and numerous others.
"That's what the man said. Nothing but the best for El Tigre. The last time he called me like that, your Partner came down and got that Mustang he's so proud of." Berto leaned against a Cadillac and wiped a smudge off the fender.
"Any one I want?" Tyler chuckled. Berto nodded, and Tyler walked down the open area between them. His head reeled. It was so overwhelming. He knew Manny was generous, but damn. It took almost an hour to decide, and he followed Berto to the office after test-driving several of the vehicles. He settled on a fairly new Chevy Blazer, dark blue, with the windows darkened. The interior was gray leather, and it had all kinds of toys, including a ten-disc cd changer. He knew he had to have it when he matted the gas, and the truck took off like it was going into hyperspace, but didn't sway when he cut a sharp corner. It was perfect.
"Here's the paperwork to take to the office in the Palace." The old man handed Tyler a packet. "Make sure they get it by tomorrow, got it?"
"Yeah, thanks, Berto." Tyler shook the man's hand.
"You come by now and then, El Tigre. I want to hear these war stories from you." Berto smiled and followed the kid out to the Blazer. "And don't beat up that truck. I did most of the work on that one."
"OH, I'll be so careful, man, you have no idea." Tyler flashed a grin and climbed in, buckling himself up. He waved, then started the engine, reveling in its deep purr. An electric thrill shivered up his spine as he pulled out onto the road.
It took about forty minutes to get across town to his old neighborhood, and he'd gotten approving looks from several women, and even some begrudging looks from guys. It was hard not to be arrogant as he began to recognize his whereabouts. The places he used to go and hang out.
There was an old grocery store, now a mini-mart, where he and his friends used to go. He pulled up a half a block away from it and got out, locking his baby and setting the alarm. Several kids whose faces he barely recognized sat out in yards and on porches, watching him walk towards the store. He was suddenly glad he was armed.
As he approached, he heard a familiar voice yelling from inside the store, and an older deeper voice shouting back. Tyler stepped over to the side of the building quickly, listening to the exchange. A skinny kid in a black t-shirt and worn denim shorts burst out of the store and pounded up the sidewalk. Tyler reached out and grabbed the kid's shirt and hauled him to the side, throwing him against the wall.
Two gang-bangers came out of the store to give chase. The first one rounded the corner of the building and caught Tyler's foot in his face, a vicious kick. He crumpled and sank to his knees. The second saw what happened and reached behind his back, producing a pistol.
Tyler spun and kicked, taking the pistol out of the guy's hand, then smashed his palm into the guy's nose, feeling it shatter. He reached back and grabbed the skinny kid's arm. "C'mon!" He commanded, heading for the truck. Across the street, other bangers were running towards them.
"Get in!" Tyler shouted, opening the locks with the key chain. They jumped up into the truck, and Tyler spun the wheels just as the gang was getting close. He saw one binger's eyes go wide as he narrowly missed him with the bumper, then floored it, feeling the truck spring forward.
He glanced in the mirror and laughed, seeing the guys, flipping him off and throwing stuff. "That was fucking sweet, wasn't it?" He looked over at Darren Calden, his one time best friend, and saw a pail white face staring back at him. "What's the matter, Darren? Didn't you miss me?"
Darren shivered and swallowed hard. "Yeah, Tyler, I did." Being catholic, he crossed himself.
"Are you okay?" Tyler asked, concerned. He couldn't figure out why Darren would act so tweaked out. "What's wrong?"
"I'm just kind of surprised to see you." Tentatively, he reached out and touched Tyler's arm, fighting the urge to recoil when he found it to be solid, not a ghost. He looked up into Tyler's eyes and leaned back in the seat. "I thought you were dead, Ty. I went to your funeral."
"My funeral? Don't they usually need a body for that?" Tyler turned the Blazer off on a side street and pulled over so he could look at Darren.
"I watched them pull you out of the dam, Tyler. I swear to God, it was you." Darren shivered again, fighting the urge to jump out and run. The hair on his neck stood up, and his back tensed up.
"Well I'm obviously not dead, bud. You touched me." He shut off the truck and pocketed the keys. "Lets go sit in the park. I'll tell you what's up, 'kay?"
An hour later, near the end of the tale about San Diego, Darren was laughing and swiping tears out of his eyes. Tyler told him about the second wound on his ass, and Darren fell over holding his sides. "Fuck you, dip shit. It hurt." Tyler shoved his friend back onto the grass again, pleased that he wasn't afraid any more. After the laughs subsided, Tyler took a smoke offered by Darren and let him light it. "So what's happened around here?" He asked, blowing smoke into the air. "What's the deal with those bangers?"
Darren swore and put his arms around his knees. "Those fuckers are trying to turn this place into a fucking war zone, man. They're set up with some big time gang, and they threaten everybody with guns and shit. I hate the bastards." He took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled forcefully. "You remember the kid that lived next to me, the geeky kid that always followed us around?
They stuck him, man, with a knife about that long." He held up his fingers about a foot a part. "They was hassling his little sister, and Kyle tried to stop them. He's dead."
"Our old gang still around?" Tyler asked, referring to the group of friends they had in common. Darren nodded, and Tyler narrowed his eyes, thinking over some options. "They all think I'm dead?" Darren nodded again. "Good. If you guys want to fix this problem, I can help, but I need to talk to somebody first."
"What've you got in mind?" Darren asked, stubbing his smoke out. A strange look went over Tyler's face, almost frightening.
"If they want a fucking war, I'll give 'em a war, but I'll take out the generals first." Tyler looked at his old friend and smiled. "I guess a tiger's work is never done."
"A tiger?"
Tyler laughed. "Yeah. Manny Rivera calls me El Tigre. The Tiger."
Darren chuckled. "Dude, I saw this all time awesome tattoo pattern with a tiger on it. It was so cool!"
Tyler blinked a couple of times, a grin coming to his face. "Where exactly was this tattoo place?"
"Down by the strip. Why?"
Tyler stood up and pulled Darren to his feet. "Gotta be anywhere, Darren?"
"No."
"Let's go for a ride."
About two hours later, Darren walked in through the front door of the tattoo parlor and handed Tyler a coke. Tyler sat in a sort of half barber chair, half medical gurney, bare chested, and watched the artist move his ink gun over the pattern on Tyler's right shoulder. It was a sort of cartoon tiger, heavily muscled, with sunglasses on and holding a pistol in its hand. The picture was enclosed in a black circle about three inches across. Tyler loved it, because the tiger looked totally arrogant.
"Is it done?" Darren asked and plopped into the next chair.
"Damned close. I took a little extra time. Don't see many members of the palace guard down here." The artist, a man about forty, shaved head, and covered in tattoos, looked up as Tyler winced. "Hang in there, man, we're about to have lift off."
"What do you mean, palace guard?" Tyler asked, then gritted his teeth as the needles found a nerve. There had been a lot more blood than he expected, and he'd sent Darren for a coke to help with a little nausea.
"The plates on your truck, man. You work for Rivera?" Tyler nodded, and the man continued. "His boys have kept a lot of scumbags out of here, you know? Doesn't charge nothin' either. Good guy."
"I think so." Tyler stood up as the man finished and inspected his handy work. "Fucking cool, man, fucking cool."
"I'm next." Darren jumped into the seat and whipped his shirt off.
"You want one too?" Tyler asked with a smile.
"Fuck yeah." He looked at the artist. "I want exactly what he got, but that next size smaller. Underneath it, I want you to put 'Tiger's Army', okay?"
The artist looked up at Tyler and offered a lopsided grin. "I can do that." He winked, then set to work on Darren's shoulder. "Always good to have a posse, ain't it?"
Tyler shook his head in wonder. "Yeah it is."