The Club

The Club

Copyright 2015 George Martin

Published by George Martin at Smashwords in 2016.

Copyright applied for with Library of Congress in 2015. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

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Chapter One

Big Shorty and Tiny were loitering on the street corner. The Baltimore sidewalk was scarred, cracked and dirty. Thousands of shuffling feet had traveled the surface over time, grinding it down like the volcanic rock of an ancient Anasazi trail. A cool evening breeze swept in from the harbor, riffling the awnings which extended over nightclub doorways. Bright neon signs glowed in the early summer darkness with promises of drinks, girls and dancing. A glowing crystal ball protruded from between a pair of rundown clip joints in the middle of the block, indicating a cosmic insight into the unknown future.

Tiny was tall, several inches over six feet, thick chested with a thick waist and a neck so wide that his head appeared to sit directly on his shoulders. The players on his football team had christened him No Neck, when they weren't using the Tiny misnomer. Tiny was an All-County tackle in high school. With his thick waist he was more a power lifter than a body builder. He had a blond crew cut and deep blue eyes.

Big Shorter was even taller, dark haired, thick chested with a slimmer waist. The pair had dominated play on the line, leading their school to the County High School Championship during an undefeated season. They had been recruited by separate colleges, but still got together in the summer, when school was out and tribal football wars were in temporary abeyance.

Tiny glanced at the crystal ball. Think I'll get my fortune told, he decided.

Okay with me, Big Shorty said.

They ambled down the worn sidewalk at a leisurely pace and reached the fortune teller sign. A warped staircase with peeling gray paint and no door led to the second floor. Sections of bare wood alternated with the paint.

Shorty stepped aside and held out his hand. After you, he said.

They ascended to groaning and cracking sounds as the stairs adjusted to their weight. They grasped a brown wooden handrail on the wall to their left. The wall itself was a pale, faded blue.

At the top of the stairs, the door to the fortune teller stood open.

Strings of bright multicolored beads created a vertical shroud across the entrance. They pushed the beads aside and entered a room which was dimly illuminated by purple and orange lights. A woman in a matching maroon scarf and loose flowing maroon dress crouched in a chair behind a small wooden table, which was empty except for a clear glass crystal ball. Several chairs squatted in a haphazard semi-circle around the front of the table, which was draped with a short, fringed yellow cloth.

The gypsy spotted them. Welcome, she said in a spooky voice, To the house of the future.

They hesitated in the doorway.

Come in. Come in, the gypsy beckoned. Take a glimpse into the future.

Big Shorty parted the beads with a large hand and stepped into the room. Tiny followed. They seated themselves in the chairs in front of the table and Big Shorty slapped down some paper money next to the crystal ball. The gypsy took it. She was ancient, gray, with a lined and weathered face. But her green eyes were clear and focused.

The gypsy waved her hand back and forth above the clear glass globe and a white mist arose, enshrouding her in a mysterious swirling fog. The globe began to glow with a flashing surreal light as the gypsy peered into its depths. Bright bolts of jagged lightning flashed inside the globe.

I see a man who is not a man, the gypsy intoned in a monotonous, trancelike voice. I see danger from this man who is not.

The gypsy peered forward to examine the flashing globe with a wrinkled forehead, as she dug deeper into the mystical spirit world. The mist surrounding her assumed the form of an amorphous skull, a head of death.

A siren, the gypsy suddenly cried. Sirens and the flashing of the bubble gum light. She waved her hand excitedly and her body jerked spasmodically. Brown mud, she yelled. Emergency room and medics. But the door to the emergency room is locked. Inner access is denied by the warden of the portal."

She slumped back limply in her chair and the skull like mist slowly dissipated.

Tiny and Shorty stared at the gypsy and then at each other.

Hey, are you all right? Tiny asked the gypsy. He reached out and grasped her by the shoulder. He shook her gently. This seemed to revive her.

You may pass to the second stage, the gypsy said. She waved a hand beyond her, indicating a cloth draped entrance in the wall which they had not noticed in the dim light. I can see that you are both pure at heart and intend no harm.

Again they hesitated, but spurred by curiosity, they stood and walked past the gypsy to the entrance to the second stage. Big Shorty parted the cloth drapes, which came together in the middle. They passed into a dusty, dimly lit hallway, which was lined with cubicles whose walls did not reach the ceiling. A girl's head protruded from the end cubicle and she beckoned them onward with a wave of her hand. They walked to the cubicle and stepped inside.

Two shapely women awaited them. Eyes peered at them from above veiled faces. Their heads were covered but their lean, flat stomachs were bare, in the fashion of belly dancers. The one on the right had a jeweled navel. She gave Big Shorty a radiant stare. The stomach around the jewel was ivory white, jeweled and firm. She undulated the jewel in a circular motion, with rotating hips.

Do you come with the territory, or do you cost extra? Big Shorty inquired.

You get what you pay for, the jeweled girl replied.

I'll pay to see what's behind the veil, Big Shorty offered. He reached for his wallet.

Money talks, the jeweled woman told him.

Chapter Two.

That was some fortune teller, Tiny remarked as they exited the worn, creaky staircase onto the sidewalk.

Sure beats a fortune cookie, Big Shorty agreed.

Do you think there was anything to those predictions? Tiny wondered.

I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Big Shorty stopped walking. A man and a woman in black leather jackets passed by. They disappeared into a doorway leading to The Red Rooster Club.

That gypsy was awful wound up, Shorty said. I hope she was wrong about that emergency room.

That's a place I don't want to visit tonight.

Several girls entered the Red Rooster. Tiny followed them with his eyes. Let's try that place next, he said.

Big Shorty nodded in agreement and they strolled beneath the awning. A bouncer inside the door collected a cover charge and stamped the backs of their hands with a rooster symbol in red ink. They surveyed the interior of the bar. Music played from a juke box in a darkened corner, where several couples were dancing.

Directly in front of them was a long counter with round faux leather stools on shiny steel pedestals. A beefy male bartender polished a glass with a towel. More than half the stools were full, mostly with males sipping foaming beer from frosted mugs. Tables and chairs paralleled the bar. Few of them were occupied. Beyond the tables, booths lined the wall facing the street. They chose a booth to the right and sat down. A waitress in shorts and knee high leather boots took their order for a pitcher of whatever beer was on tap and stalked away, heels clicking on the linoleum.

The beer came and they sipped it from glasses. Tiny quickly spotted a sturdy looking blond girl in a low cut blouse. She was alone at a table. When she saw him looking, she smiled and waved.

Tiny took another sip of beer. Think I'll ask her for a dance, he said. He walked over, bent down and spoke to her over the music from the juke box. She looked up and nodded. They walked to the corner dance floor and began dancing to a slow song. The blond rested her head on Tiny's powerful shoulder.

Big Shorty downed several glasses of beer in the meantime and listened to the music, which was mainly rock and roll with a heavy beat. The bathroom was to the right, around the corner. He got up and walked into the head, where someone in a long black leather jacket with red hair stood at one of the urinals. As Shorty passed by, he noticed with a start that it was a female, although she was dressed like a man and was apparently using the men's room. He pretended not to notice. The woman finished what she was doing, zipped up and left the restroom. Big Shorty also left, as quickly as possible.

Tiny and the well-endowed blond were sitting in the booth when Shorty emerged from the bathroom, smiling and drinking beer. They had obtained a third glass from the waitress. Big Shorty paused outside the men's room, studying the dance floor uneasily. Half of the couples appeared to be same sex and female, although one of each couple was dressed in masculine fashion. A cursory examination would fail to observe this, in the reduced lighting. Big Shorty returned to the booth with Tiny and his new acquaintance.

Hey Shorty, Tiny greeted him. Meet Nancy.

The blond smiled. Everyone calls me Nance, she said.

Nice to meet you, Nance. Big Shorty emptied what was left in the pitcher into his beer glass. They all drank up and the beer was gone.

You about ready to blow this place? Big Shorty asked.

And go where? Tiny wondered in surprise.

Nance spoke up. How about The Pelican Club? She suggested. I think you'll like the place.

Big Shorty was only too glad to concur, after his experience with the lady in the restroom.

Chapter Three.

Big Shorty paid and tipped the waitress and they exited The Red Rooster. Tiny had his arm around Nance's waist. She snuggled against him.

Across the street, bars and restaurants stretched in all directions, an alcohol fueled version of Simon and Garfunkel's Neon God, glistening with wavering islands of light in Baltimore storefront windows. A news stand crouched on the corner to the left. Pleasure seekers and uniformed sailors thronged the sidewalks, coming and going from various establishments. Slow moving cars cruised the street, stopping for women in short red skirts and long tall boots or high heeled shoes.

A black, four door mercury pulled to the curb in front of the trio with angry screeching tires. The driver was a blond woman in a black leather jacket with man cut hair and combat boots. The passenger up front in the shotgun seat also had short man style hair. She wore black engineer boots with a strap across the front and a black leather jacket. Her hair was a rich, bright red. It was the same woman Big Shorty had encountered in the men's room. Car doors slammed as the two women jumped out and rushed forward to confront them.

What's going on, Nance? You cheatin' on me? The redhead demanded, with an angry scowl.

Nance quit snuggling up to Tiny. He removed his arm from her waist and squared off with the redhead.

What's the problem here? Tiny asked.

Come on, Red, Nance pleaded. It's not like we're going steady or anything.

Red's face twisted into an angry grimace. Her hand was in her jacket pocket. She began hyperventilating. You guys can't come in here and run off with the women, she announced. She removed her hand from the pocket. It held a long, thin bladed knife. She brandished it menacingly, waving it back and forth in front of Tiny.

No, Red! No! Nance screamed. Stop it!

Red showed no signs of stopping.

Tiny's arms came up in front of him, horizontal to the pavement with palms open. Red circled to the right. Suddenly, she leapt forward, thrusting at Tiny's midsection. But Tiny backed away and circled to his own right.

Red wasn't watching Big Shorty. His foot flashed from the side, slamming into the knife hand. The knife spun through the air and skittered across the sidewalk into the gutter.

Red cried out, gripping her knife hand in pain.

Tiny took advantage of the distraction to sprint across the sidewalk like he was rushing a quarterback. He retrieved the knife. Grasping it by the handle, he pressed the tip of the blade into the pavement at an angle and stepped on it, snapping the blade in half. Then he stood, with the handle of the broken knife dangling from his hand. The broken blade lay on the sidewalk. Tiny swept it into the grill over a drain with his left foot. It fell between the bars of the grill.

Tiny looked at Nance, who wouldn't meet his eyes. I guess we better leave you with your girlfriend, Nance. Let's go, Shorty.

Nance seemed to be at a loss for words.

They turned and walked away from the Red Rooster. The two women in leather jackets didn't bother to follow them. Just in case, Shorty kept looking back over his shoulder as he walked.

They reached the corner and stopped. They stared back down the street at Nance and the redhead.

You gonna just leave her there? Big Shorty asked Tiny.

Hey, man. She's a lesbian. I don't think she likes guys that much.

She's bisexual, Big Shorty argued. It's not the same.

Tiny was adamant. I'm liberal minded, but I'm not competing with her girlfriend. I could a been stabbed with that knife!

True. But is it safe to leave her there? Maybe we should escort her somewhere safe.

Maybe so, Tiny said, wavering in his conviction.

By the way, the reason I wanted to leave was because of the same sex couples dancing together. I thought you were aware of that, since you were out on the dance floor.

I was distracted, Tiny said. "We were dancing real close. I gotta admit that I liked