Cheers

Home; Chicago, my dark kingdom. I call Chicago the Dark Kingdom because every Batman movie that's worth a shit was filmed here (excepting of course, Adam West's original), that and it's just so fucking big, and dark. I had a lot to think about on my way back to the DK. Forty minutes of it, with Fats Domino, Etta James, and Susan Tedeschi filling in the background. Mostly, my thoughts kept creeping back to Cynthia, and how we were together. I actually hadn't thought of Cynthia in a couple of months; not at any length anyway. I tried to concentrate on the work that lay ahead of me, but her amber eyes kept popping up, burning into my brain; keeping me off balance.
Thoughts of invoices and interviews were constantly interrupted by rumpled linen sheets and butterflies in the garden at the compound. New equipment lists were ripped to shreds by soft moans and singing in the ballroom. By the time, I reached Ohio St. I abandoned all hope of keeping Cynthia out of my thoughts.
I exited ninety-four at twenty-second St. and took it down to Uncle Benny's Irish Pub on the east end of Chinatown. It was three a.m. so I had a little time before last call. I felt like topping off the buzz that I had been acquiring through the night.
I took off my party glasses and tossed them in the glove box along with my mp3 recorder. I looked at my eyes in the mirror for a moment. A lot of people find my eyes disturbing. First off, they're blue, so the black hair really makes them stand out. They're not just blue though. My eyes are more like a bluish white really, than actual blue. It's not like an albino's eyes, but not far off either. Second, they never smile. Only a very select few people can make the smile come out in my eyes. Tommy Tsung, the bartender at Uncle Benny's is one of the few souls in my life who doesn't find my eyes disturbing. Uncle Benny is another.
Uncle Benny came to America forty years ago with nothing but twenty bucks and a dream. Benny Tsung wanted to own an Irish pub. Benny worked at more then twenty different Irish pubs between New York and the Dark Kingdom. He literally walked from the Statue of Liberty to Millennium Park. It took him five years to get here. He sold booze in at least seventeen different cities. When Benny finally got to the DK, he was two grand in the black, and looking to set up shop.
Thirty-five years ago, two k was quite enough to get started. He rented his space and bought booze and a license. For the first five years, he slept on a bed roll behind the bar and spent every last dime on making improvements. Over the course of ten years, his bar went from being a dinky little chirish dive to being a dark, smoky, dirty, grimy, beautiful Irish pub.
Benny has all of his furnishings from the same family owned Irish imports company, so by the time that he had any substantial gains from his efforts, he had a substantial discount on all of his furnishings. When Benny got word from home, about twenty years ago, that he had ten nephews, he changed the name of the pub from "Song Tsung Blue" to Uncle Benny's Irish Pub. Fifteen years ago, Benny finally bought the building and currently lives in the remodeled flat on the third floor.
When I walked in the door, Benny's nephew, Tommy greeted me with his big gopher grin. When I first started out with my business, Uncle Benny was having problems with vandals coming around; breaking his windows, burning large patches on the door with hairspray, general hoodlum shit. The police weren't doing anything for Benny because their hands were full elsewhere, so Benny found me in the phone book and called me up. He told me he'd give me an unlimited tab at the bar if I would take care of his problem.
This was Before I partnered up with Percy so I told him it was a done deal. I staked out the front of Uncle Benny's for three days before anything happened. On the third night, around four am, these four kids came walking down the street. They were all wearing homemade ninja costumes and one had a milk crate in his hands that clinked with the sound of full glass bottles with every step. I smelled the gasoline before they made it half way down the block.
By the time that I was finished with those thugs, they were all tied to a lamp post, doused in their own gasoline and I was standing over them with my grandfather's commemorative CPD Zippo burning in my hand. I didn't say anything to them. I didn't need to. When the police showed up four hours later, they were crying and begging to be thrown in holding cells so the "eyeless mother fucker" couldn't come back and burn them.
Nowadays, when I want to drink, I just walk down the street and pop in to see Tommy or Benny. I'm pretty sure that's why Benny helped me get my building at such a low rate. The only liquor I still keep in my apartment is Bailey's and Berenjager.
I walked up to the bar, sat down, and was immediately presented with a tall Crown and Coke. I thanked Tommy, who's grin was plastered to his face like it was painted on, and took a look around the bar.
It was the usual Friday night crowd. All but three tables by the door were packed with second shifters, lowlifes, and late night partiers. The jukebox was blaring "Hurt so good" by John Cougar Mellencamp while the Irish band cleared their equipment from the small stage in the back corner. There was a blonde sitting with some friends who had noticed me when I came in. She absolutely wreaked of the coven, and Hawaiian white ginger. When my gaze rested on her for a moment, she winked at me. She had extremely deep brown eyes; so deep that they could have been red. I'd just seen Cynthia for the first time in over a decade. I was so not in the mood to let some young stripper try to work me over. I just passed over her like she was part of the scenery.
Off to my right was a table filled with UPS teamsters drinking their paychecks and flirting with the waitress. One of them; a big, beefy fucker with hair and eyes to match the color of the trucks he loaded for a living, had his hand up her short denim skirt, fondling her left butt cheek.
I think I've made it clear that I have very few scruples about who I work for. Uncle Benny's Irish Pub is a front for a Chinese brothel. The waitresses disappear at random into the back rooms past the kitchen for fifteen minutes to an hour at a time. I've been propositioned non-gratis for services rendered to the bar. Now, I'm not one to turn down a pretty face out of hand, butt something about the smell of shower sex with some nameless face in the bar cranks up my moral-o-meter.
I'm not being judgmental; just cautious.
The only things about Uncle Benny's that don't look Irish are the bartenders, the waitresses, and the bathrooms. There's little that screams "Chinatown!!!" like the intricate tile work on the floors and walls of Uncle Benny's privies. It's like stepping from Dublin to Canton in three easy inches.
The bar itself sat in front of the kitchen in an L shape from the corner in front of the stage to the middle of the wall to the right of the door. Uncle Benny never put an entrance in the bar. If you wanted to get back there, you had to either jump it or go through the back rooms. Bags of sawdust lay stacked in a corner by the office door, just in case. All in all, it's a pretty nice place.
It took three Crown and Cokes to get my head too fuzzy to linger on too much of anything. Tommy knows how I like my drinks. Most men my size would be put in a severe coma by the sheer volume of alcohol that I consume on a daily basis. What can I say? It's all in a day's work.
I've known Tommy for two years now; ever since he was fresh off the boat. His dream is to be a news anchor. He's been taking speech lessons since he got here and now he sounds a lot like Dan Rather. Tommy drinks almost as much as I do, but he's still a good kid.
By the time that I was halfway through my fourth Crown and Coke (I'm not much for beer), I finally remembered the actual reason that I came to Benny's that night. Getting drunk is not a reason. It's an excuse.
I looked to my left and saw Tommy chatting up a very cute asian girl. I reached over and tugged on his sleeve. He looked my way and I motioned him to come in close.
Tommy brought his chin to my shoulder and I said, "Tell your uncle that I need to see him tomorrow." The first try sounded something more like "Kell erncle Inedu seem chumba." By the third try, I just said, fuck it and forced my brain to function.
In that moment, I noticed something significant. Tommy had pulled away to give the universal "just a sec" sign, so I took a sec to look over his potential lass. First off, her eyes were fixed on Tommy. Secondly, she was biting the inside of her lower lip. Third thing; the fingers of her left hand were fidgeting with last three inches of her chestnut hair. Fourth, and finally, her right thumb was stroking the neck of her Corona bottle.
I'd never seen a girl look at Tommy that way before. I just had to know what kind of girl my friend was landing.
When Tommy brought his attention back to me, I said, "She really likes you, man."
Tommy glanced at her then asked me, "How can you tell?"
I smiled and said, "I can smell it on her. What's her name?"
"Katherine."
I smirked and said, "What's her real name?"
Tommy smiled sheepishly and said, "Katsumi."
My eyebrows raised a little and I said, "Japanese girl, huh? What's Uncle Benny have to say about that?"
There was a distinct and audible "thud" as Tommy shrugged his shoulders and said, "This is America, Jack. Benny can think whatever he wants. It's not going to make a lick of difference, if he sees grandnephews."
I couldn't help myself. My eyes wide in shock I said, "Wow! Did it hurt?"
Tommy got a confused look on his face and said, "Did what hurt?"
I grinned and said, "Just now, when your balls dropped. You should really pick those things up, man. You don't want 'em dragging, you know."
Tommy smiled, embarrassed. He was used to my back-handed jokes and compliments, but they always hit close enough to home to make him blush a little, or a reasonable facsimile there of. Tommy has a good sense of humor though, and takes everything in stride. He adjusted himself accordingly, and sniffed with faux derision.
He said, "So, what do you need to see Benny about?"
"Irish guy, name of Robert Malloy. He's in the family way, and I need to know things that computers don't."
Tommy knew exactly what I was talking about. It's very difficult for Chinese americans to operate on the levels that Uncle Benny operates on without having connections with Triad. You've played six degrees of Kevin Bacon. You do the math.
Tommy nodded and headed over to the other side of the bar, yelling back at the irate customer who was in turn, yelling at him to "Stop dragging ass!"
Katsumi traveled the two seats down the bar to sit next to me. She moved with all the confidence of a dancer and all the grace of an inveterate office clerk.
She said, "So, you're the infamous Jack Bowman."
I gave her the most sober and suave look that I could manage. This consisted of one half raised eyebrow and a pale shadow of an Elvis sneer.
I said, "So, you're the infamous Katherine."
This was apparently quite amusing because the lovely Katsumi burst with laughter.
Tommy turned around with a jealous look on his face, which faded when he saw that it was me making her laugh. I'd been trying to hook that boy up since I met him. There was no way I'd try to make a move on his girl. The last girlfriend he'd had, left him to make internet porn with every Harry Dick and John that didn't mind being filmed. Besides, everyone who hangs out at Uncle Benny's know who I am. They know that I'm the reason that you don't mess with Uncle Benny or his family. From that night on, no one at that bar would ever try anything with Katsumi Shinobi.
When she was finished laughing, she brushed aside her hair with her left hand and offered me her right, saying, "Just call me Kat. It's easier."
I gave her a knowing smile and took her fingers in my hand. I said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kat. I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot more of me. This is my haunt after all."
I released her hand and she said, "Tommy's told me a lot about you. I must say that your apparent sense of honor impresses me."
Tommy has a habit of playing me up when he tells people about me. I said as much to Kat. We talked for about twenty minutes before Tommy called last call. She told me how she and Tommy had met on the blue line the week before. She said that she fell in love with him the second he gave up his seat for her. We talked about law school and dealing with cops. Kat was going in for small business law. I told her about my police liaison, Detective Ruiz, and about Percy and how we got into business together.
When last call was sounded, I excused myself and headed for the door. I would be walking home that night, as I do at least three nights a week. I've never gotten a DUI and I'd like to keep it that way.
I went to my car, grabbed my spy kit and started the trek two blocks north, to Stella.