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Drifting into Deep Waters; Prequel to Moon Tears
Topic Started: February 2, 2012, 4:20 pm (7,279 Views)
Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 61

"Who exactly is this Francois Dupont guy and what exactly does he do?", asked Kris as Marco parked the car in a public lot on Rue St. Antoine in downtown Montreal.

Marco placed a few coins in a meter and left a card with the time on it on the windshield of the car. "I told you back in Russia, he is my boss and a gangster of sorts. He made his big money during Prohibition smuggling whiskey but when that was repealed, he concentrated to other things like a racetrack and a casino and other things", he said, a slightly enigmatic note in his voice.

Kris decided not to say anything until Mr. Dupont mentioned it as Marco led him towards an alleyway and knocked on a plain brown door. There was a shuffling sound behind the door and a bar on the top slid forward, revealing a pair of brown eyes in a dark face. "Dupont e un bravo capo", said Marco as the bar slid back and the door opened a to let them in.

"Benvenuto, signore Scangelo. Signore Dupont is ready to see you, and is this the Letang fellow you mentioned?", asked the man in accented Italian. He was short and squat with a dark olive-complexioned face framed by jet-black hair cut into a bowl shape and little dark brown eyes that seemed lost in his fat face like a pig's, his baggy gray suit one size too big and the sort that looked as though it was purchased off the rack at a discount store, his brown shoes looking old and in need of shining.

"Benvenuto, Signore Caputi. Kris, this is Signore Caputi, Dupont's head soldato.Signore Caputi, this is Kristopher Letang, Mr. Dupont has a job for him", said Marco.

Kris tried not to look askance at the ugly little man and shook his hand, thinking that he didn't look like a Mafia guy but rather a bum. "Grazie, Signore Letang. I am the head of the soldatos of Signore Dupont, he is capodecina of the Montreal branch of the Maggadino family. Of course, if you say anything, I will have to shoot you now", said Caputi with a dry little laugh, fingering the pistol in his waistband.

"Non, monsieur Caputi, my mother did not raise a fool", chuckled Kris.

"I like that, you're not easily scared, Letang. Come this way", said Caputi.

Kris and Marco followed Caputi upstairs to the private rooms of Francois Dupont. He knocked on the door and it opened as Kris braced himself to meet this Mafia boss, wondering if this was really the right idea after all. Dupont sat behind a polished mahogany desk, looking almost exactly like a Mafia don regarding his kingdom. He was a huge man, over six feet tall and nearly 300lbs with slicked back dark brown hair and intelligent brown eyes in a handsome face in spite of his bulk. His custom-made slate gray suite with wide white pinstripes fit his huge body perfectly, a red silk carnation in his suit lapel looking out of place in his enormous suit. Several framed pictures of a woman and children sat on the desk not unlike how an office worker might place pictures of their children, quite incongruous in this office of a Mafia boss.

"Benvenuto, Signore Scangelo. And you are Kristopher Letang, Marco recommended you to me. And are you French, Kristopher is not French", he said, his French flawless except for a slight Italian accent that made it sound more melodic.

"Oui, Signore Dupont. But my mother is part Scottish and she liked the name, I know it's an odd one", he chuckled.

"Si, I understand. French and Scots is a good combination, intelligence and charm combined, non? Mr. Letang, I had Marco send for you because I need a security guard for my nightclub Le Chatte Griz, one of them was fired because he and the manager were skimming profits, that's not good for business at all and we had to take care of them. Very bad, I trusted them", said Dupont thoughtfully.

Kris knew exactly what they meant by taking care of business, having watched enough gangster movies to figure that out. "Oui, je sais. Ils etaient tres stupid, batards", he said as Dupont smiled in agreement.

"You are a very intelligent young man, Signore Letang. Are you married?", he asked suddenly.

"Oui, my wife is Marie", he replied.

"Good, I don't trust bachelors, they tend to steal and do reckless things, right Marco? You can start tomorrow night, you are to break up fights and make sure the employees don't dip into the till, if you are good at it you can move up from here", said Dupont.

Marco gave him an encouraging smile as Kris signed the document put before him, having a good feeling about this in spite of what would normally be seen as a bad idea. "Your starting rate is twenty dollars a night, sometimes you'll get a tip from a patron if you do a little something extra like breaking up a fight. Just don't tell anyone who your boss really is, not even your wife. Loose lips sink ships, you know", Dupont chuckled.

"Oui, monsieur", agreed Kris.



Meanwhile, Jordan stood off to the side of the stage and watched as the band did a last minute check on everything as the area in front of the stage filled up with customers at the roadhouse. Since this was practically the only club in the entire area, it was crowded with farmers and workers and young people wanting to dance and drink beer, the other options for entertainment being limited except for an ancient movie theater in another town and a few scattered tiny bars. Paul took center stage as he clicked on the keys of his saxophone and checked the reed in the mouthpiece, the rest of the band immediately launching into Maniacs Ball as the fans started dancing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIfl3auQmZs
The fast up-tempo jazz song soon had the entire crowd up and dancing, many of them jitterbugging while others did more free-form dancing and a few adventurous couples did a Lindy Hop, the men lifting the women in the air and twirling them around.

The band never stopped playing as they segued right into No Name Jive, the dancing as frenetic as ever: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PAJ8RAWyzyI The dance floor was a heaving mass of bodies as people either tried to do a proper jitterbug while others just did their thing, the Lindy Hoppers still going strong. The music was perfectly suited to this rather than the pretty dance music most other bands did, the local people more interested in dancing and drinking beer instead of listening to pretty pop dance music.

Jordan couldn't help but dance a bit to the loud, lively, frenetic music as a smile formed on his face. It was a far cry from the dull Guy Lombardo albums his grandparents had played when he was a kid, this type of jazz music much more frenetic and cheerful and anarchic than those old records. The band went right into Big Nose from Winnetka with its extended middle section pitting drums against bass: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8gvJnhTY2s Sean would pluck a few notes on his bass and Ilya would answer on his drums, either using the toms or the snare to mimic the sounds of the bass. Unlike most other types of drum or bass solos, this one maintained its good humor and cheer and didn't get bogged down in tedium, Sean plucking a few notes on the stand-up bass and Ilya answering him right back, both men almost telepathic in their musical connection. Finally the rest of the band joined in and everyone began dancing again, the good mood of the crowd almost infectious.

Jordan went with Paul once the show was over and walked over to the manager's office to collect their money while the others got the instruments back into the truck. The club manager raised an eyebrow when Jordan entered with Paul as he sat behind his desk and slowly started counting out money, counting under his breath as he eyes them warily. "Monsieur, you said we were to get a hundred dollars for the show, this is eighty", said Paul calmly.

"But you guys drank twenty bucks worth of beer", he whined.

"Merde, you cheap bastard", growled Paul.

Jordan easily lifted the little man by his collar and looked right into his frightened face. "Dude, don't make me hurt you. Pay us the fucking money", he said calmly.

The club owner looked up at Jordan and gulped as his head bobbed up and down like a puppet's on a string. "Okay, just put me down", he muttered. Paul and Jordan watched as the club owner added an extra twenty dollar bill to the money, his hands shaking. "All right, here's your fucking money. Just get the fuck out of here", he ordered.

Paul nodded as he placed the money in his wallet. "Very good job, Jordan. A lot of the club owners are like that", he said.

"No problem, what a dick. Now we crash somewhere or keep on driving?", he asked.

"Our next show is in Ithaca at Cornell University, we can find a hotel there if we can't stay at the fraternity building. This is already turning into an interesting tour", Paul said with a chuckle.
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The Cosmic Gerbil
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Glad that the guys got their money OK in the end :lol:
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Lucifer's Angel
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Chapter 62

Jordan grumbled under his breath when he felt someone poke their elbow into his head, opening his eyes and seeing it was dark outside as the two cars approached Ithaca, the small upstate New York town the home of Cornell University. The town itself was neat with its little white clapboard houses and lawns and American flags hanging from every porch, the main commercial district downtown consisting of a few brick buildings with none being taller than thee stories, cars parked on the streets as a few people walked about while merchants closed shop.

The quaint little scene was so neat and clean and old-fashioned that it gave him pause, feeling as though he had been dumped into an old Bugs Bunny Cartoon from the 30's. "This is a nice little town, Cornell is a wonderful school. I got accepted here but I went to McGill, it was closer to home and had a better legal program", said Ilya, his fingers shaking slightly as he was craving a cigarette.

"Okay, I was just thinking this looked like a cartoon or something", he chuckled weakly.

Ilya raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "I can see that, the Ithaca city council keeps the town very neat, otherwise parents wouldn't want their children going here to study. Anyways, the party is going to be at the Phi Omega Gamma fraternity, I hope they don't realize that Omega is the last letter of the ancient Greek alphabet", he chuckled.

"Huh, what kind of alphabet is that?", asked Jordan.

"There's two kinds, the ancient Greek alphabet used during the Classical period and the modern one which is an adaptation of it. The ancient Greek alphabet has letters like alpha, beta, gamma and so forth and the modern one is an adaptation with different letters. Our Cyrillic alphabet is based on the ancient Greek alphabet that was adopted by Slavic tribes when they were converted to Christianity by the Byzantines. Can you read anything in Cyrillic?", asked Ilay.

"Uh, no. Geno's got books using that alphabet, I don't understand any of at all. But he reads good using the English alphabet, but I don't know Russian for shit", he chuckled weakly.

"First of all, it's the Latin alphabet, the Romans invented it. And two, that's nothing to be ashamed of, most North Americans don't understand it either. It took me a year as a child to understand the Latin alphabet in order to read and write it well, it would probably take the same amount of time for you to learn it", he said kindly.

"Dude, you're a fucking genius. You can smoke reefer all you want and you'd still be a genius", said Jordan admiringly.

"Da, this is why stupid people should not smoke reefer", Ilya agreed as Paul parked the car near the other one in front of a large white clapboard building on campus.

A young man wearing a Roman toga and a blue sash identifying him as a member of Phi Omega Gamma came out of the house and smiled, hoisting a green glass beer bottle in welcome. "Hi, are you the band? I'm Philip Williams and I'm the head of Phi Omega Gamma, welcome to Ithaca. After you set up you can have something to eat and we got plenty of drinks, one of our brothers brought in some moonshine from his family in Kentucky", he chuckled.

"Cool, as long as we don't go blind", said Jordan dryly.

Williams looked up and raised an eyebrow when he saw Jordan, seeing that the big blond giant had nearly seven inches and a hundred pounds on him. "Are you in the band?", he asked.

"He is our security and helper, Mr. Williams", said Paul politely as he nodded in understanding.

"Sorry about that, it's just that I've never seen too many guys that big", said Williams.

"Hey, no offense taken, dude. I'm used to it", chuckled Jordan.

Jordan helped the band get their equipment out of the cars and inside the house. The guests had just started to arrive when they began to set up the equipment, many of them fraternity brothers and their dates. The former were distinguished by their white togas and their pledge pins and sashes proclaiming them as being part of Phi Omega Gamma, the latter in their fancy dresses, imitation feather boas and immaculately bobbed hair and nails and makeup like a group of Hollywood starlets at a casting call for a studio. A small stage that was raised about three feet high was located at the back of the room with a few long tables at both sides, one of them with various cold cuts, potato salad, bread and baked goods and the other with a huge punch bowl with orange and lemon slices floating on top that was the color of a nuclear sunset, a metal ladle and paper cups next to it alongside several cases of beer in green bottles sitting in a wooden milk crate with other bottles sitting in a tin tub of ice.

They finished getting the instruments on stage and stood in line to get something to eat. "What's in the punch?", asked Jordan, spooning some potato salad on his plate along with bread and a few slices of ham and cheese.

"That's got all kinds of booze in it, rum, whiskey, bourbon, vodka, and some moonshine Jones' dad makes, we only got a bit in there because it's damn near lethal. Oh, and it's mixed with Kool Aid", said one of the other brothers in front of him.

Jordan glanced over at the punch bowl and frowned, seeing several of the other brothers and their dates drinking the potent red punch by the cupful. Shit, I hope no one goes postal here, he thought in dismay.

Williams came over with a paper cup filled with red punch and handed it to him, a crooked grin on his face. "Try it, it's really good", he giggled.

Jordan took the cup from him and smiled politely, finding an empty seat and balancing the plate on his lap as he began to eat. The food quickly made him thirsty and he took a cautious sip of the punch, the strong taste of all the various liquors combining with the sticky sweet of Kool Aid to give it a disgustingly cloying sugary taste. He winced and gulped it down, feeling the burn go straight down as the alcohol had an immediate effect, finishing the rest of his food and taking another sip to get rid of the saltiness. The punch gradually became more palatable as he drank some more, the first cup making him feel as though he had drank at least four beers as he grinned and looked about dazedly.

"This shit's pretty good, Jordan", said Charles, draining his cup in one go and smiling beatifically.

"Yeah, dude. But you can't get too fucked up before the gig", giggled Jordan.

David came over as he sipped from his beer bottle raising an eyebrow at the duo. "I hope you don't get too drunk before the show starts, Charles. I don't like the look of that punch", he said.

"David, I know better than that", he retorted.

Sean and Ilya came over, both of them with a cup of punch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "David, if you drink a bit before the show it makes it more loose, you should know that", teased Sean, taking a drag off his cigarette.

"Je sais, mon frere Irlandais. But we cannot mess this up", he chided.

"Il a raison, Sean. But I trust you, otherwise I would have kicked you out a long time ago", chuckled Paul, taking a sip of his own beer.

Jordan was feeling very good as he drank from his second cup of punch, watching as the band went onstage to the cheers of the frat brothers and their dates. Ilya got behind his drum kit and tapped his sticks together as the band played Sing, Sing, Sing with one of the girls jumping onstage and singing with them, to their amusement: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2S1I_ien6A

Sing, sing, sing, sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Now you're singin' with a swing
Sing sing sing, sing, everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Now you're singin' with a swing.

When the music goes around,
Everybody's goes go to town.
But here is one thing you should know
Sing sing sing sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Now you're singin with a swing

Swing swing swing swing, listen to the trumpet swing
Blow blow blow blow, listen to the trombones go

When the music goes around,
Everybody's goes go to town.
But here is one thing you should know
Sing sing sing sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Everybody go!

Sing sing sing sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Now you're singin with a swing
Sing sing sing sing everybody start to sing like dee dee dee, bah bah bah dah
Now you're singin with a swing

Swing swing swing, everybody start to swing
Now your swingin while you sing
When the music goes around, everybody goes to town
Just relax and take is slow

SIng sing
Start singing, keep swinging
Now you're singing with a swing

Jordan chuckled to himself as he hid his smile by his cup as the band played the hard-driving Benny Goodman number, Ilya banging on the drums just like his idol Gene Krupa. Everyone got up and danced as much as their sobriety or drunkenness would allow, some of the brothers just swaying a bit while a few of the girls had to dance by themselves as their dates wouldn't or couldn't.

The band played mostly harder jazz with a lot of swing as everyone continued dancing, Ilya driving the music forward with his adroit drumming with Sean adding the bass underneath and the horns adding melody. The set ended with Blue Skies, Paul copying the clarinet part on the Benny Goodman original on his saxophone: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-cXsCK2Y3k The crowd cheered and whooped and hollered at the end, the band linking arms and bowing.

"You guys crash here tonight, you can't drive", said Williams, seeing that Charles, Sean, Ilya and Jordan were helping themselves to the leftover punch.

Paul nodded as Williams handed him the night's fee, almost two hundred dollars. "Merci, monsieur Williams", he said as him and David followed him upstairs to their room.

Ilya drained his punch and led the others outside a good distance away from the house, reaching into his pocket for a small wax paper bundle of dried weed and a pipe and matches, shaking some of the weed loose into the pipe and lighting it as he took a puff and passed it over to Sean. Each took a turn and Jordan took the pipe and inhaled, a big smile forming on his face as the effect hit him, holding in the smoke and then exhaling in a big cloud.

"That was a heck of a show, guys", said Sean as he passed it over to Charles.

Charles nodded and took a puff, holding it in until his eyes strained and then exhaling. "Oui, Sean. I love these parties, they pay real good", he agreed.

"You know there was moonshine in the punch, I'm surprised I'm not blind", giggled Jordan.

"Da, but I've had it before when I went to McGill, it's not that bad", shrugged Ilya as he took his turn at the pipe.

Jordan was feeling very good after drinking the punch and a few beers and now the weed, his body feeling weightless and a big grin on his face as he swayed slightly back and forth as though dancing to music. "Ha, you're stoned", giggled Sean.

"Yeah, this shit is awesome", he laughed.

Ilya just shook his head as he lit the bowl and took another puff, handing it over to Charles. "Da, you are turning into a real jazzer, Jordan", he teased.
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The Cosmic Gerbil
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Hehehe, the guys are partying loads, even back in time :lol: It must have been right weird to see that chap dressed up as a Roman in 20th century America, lol :)
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Lucifer's Angel
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Chapter 63

Maurice smiled grimly when he saw his brothers enter the house, walking down the block as the sun began its descent over the horizon. He had a slight spring in his step and whistled under his breath, smiling a bit wider when he saw the familiar sign hanging over the entrance of Mullane's as he went inside.

The bar was three-quarters full and he found an empty spot at the bar, the bartender nodding in recognition and placing a pint of Molson's in front of him. Maurice saw him mark a piece of paper to start a tab, taking a sip of the beer as he waited for Mick to arrive. His fingers shook slightly and he reached into his pocket for his pack of Pall Malls and a lighter, opening the box and shaking one out as he put it to his lips and lit the tip.

Maurice immediately felt better as the nicotine hit his system, exhaling the smoke as he too another swallow of beer. He frowned when he didn't see Mick, getting up from his stool to check on the jukebox, selecting Born to Lose by Ray Price: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQ4fMEJUDhw

Born to lose, I've lived my life in vain
Every dream has only brought me pain
All my life I've always been so blue
Born to lose and now I'm losing you.

Born to lose, it seems so hard to bear
How I long to always have you near
You've grown tired and now you say we're through
Born to lose and now I'm losing you.

Born to lose, my every hope is gone
It's so hard to face that empty dawn
You were all the happiness I knew
Born to lose and now I'm losing you.

There's no use to dream of happiness
All I see is only loneliness
All my life I've always been so blue
Born to lose and now I'm losing you
Born to lose and now I'm losing you.

Maurice finished making his selection and turned to get back to his seat. He was momentarily surprised to see a young man his age sitting in the adjacent stool but he just shrugged it off as he went back to his seat. "'Allo, I hope you don't mind", he said, speaking with a heavy Acadien accent.

"Non, mon ami. I was just waiting for a friend", he replied with a smile.

The young man nodded in understanding as the bartender set down a pint of beer and a shot of whiskey. He was over six feet tall and on the lanky side with curly brown hair that was slightly long and merry brown eyes, wearing plain black slacks and a white a pullover shirt with short sleeves, his enormous hands dwarfing the beer mug.

"I am Luc Bourdon", he said, extending his hand.

Maurice shook his hand, feeling that was a bit cold but said nothing. "I am Maurice Briere, glad to meet you. Are you from the Maritimes, it's your accent", he said.

"Oui, I am from Shippagan in Brunswick", replied Luc.

"Beautiful country out there, my dad's band plays out there sometimes. Are you looking for work, the construction site where I work needs a new plasterer, our last one was fired after he showed up drunk", said Maurice.

"Non, I am here to visit my friend and his wife", replied Luc.

"Tres bien, monsieur Bourdon. I just live down the block, my father is touring with his band and my brothers are staying with neighbors, our aunt lives with us and she is an old nun", said Maurice, making a face.

"Merde, mon ami", exclaimed Luc.

"Je sais. Anyways, if I didn't have my drinks and my smokes I'd go crazy", said Maurice, lighting another Pall Mall and taking a drag.

Maurice set the cigarette down in the ashtray and excused himself to visit the bathroom. He emerged several minutes later and was surprised when he saw that Luc had gone, only the empty beer glass announcing he had been there. Maurice glanced around the barroom and didn't see him anywhere, making his way back to the stool and ordering another beer. He was even more surprised when he saw the cigarette in the ashtray was unlit and cool to the touch with no ember glowing from the tip, knowing full well that it was half-smoked when he had placed it down. Maurice took out the pack of cigarettes and counted them, even more shocked that it had the exact amount inside as though he hadn't smoked any. What the hell is this, I smoked two of them yet the pack is full, he wondered.


Marie and Ellen had sent the boys home next door for their bedtime, Evgeni in the kitchen fetching them beers. Kris had departed for his job in the club and it was past ten that night, a dim soft glow coming from a Tiffany lamp in the parlor. The radio was on and tuned to a live show featuring a dance orchestra playing soft jazz, the volume turned down low as to not disturb the neighbors.

"Here is beer for you ladies, it help you sleep", he said, handing them each a cold bottle of Molson's.

The women accepted the beer and began to drink, the soft music still in the background. Suddenly, the room grew chilly and the radio emitted a staticky burst as though it was in between stations before playing 3 Shades of Black by Hank III: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkzSyvCl9ic

3 shades of black is where I come from.
Depression, Misery, and Hellacious fun.
No we're not the kind to turn our backs and run
coz 3 shades of black is where we come from.
We are a certain breed and we don't like you.
Some are junkies some are freaks and others are everyday ghouls.
No one will ever know what we've been through
and we are proud in the light of the moon.

3 shades of black
3 shades of black
We all like metal and Whiskey!
Livin' Hard and chasin' down Hell.
We'll never give up on what we have because the darkness gives us our thrills.

Yeaaaaaaaahhhh! Yeeeeeaaaaahyeaaaaaaaah!

3 shades of black is where I come from.
I was born in the sacrifice when I was young.
3 shades of black is what makes us strong,
and we all wear it like a uniform of chosen ones.

3 shades of black.
3 shades of black.
3 shades of black.
We all like metal and Whiskey!
Livin' hard and chasin' down Hell.
We'll never give up on what we have because the darkness gives us our thrills.

Coz' the darkness gives us our thrills...............


Ellen barely noticed when the bottle dropped from her grip and fell on the carpet, the beer soaking through the carpet as the smell filled the air. A figure slowly materialized near the radio and the three of them gaped in shock, when they saw Luc smiling at them, an amused look in his brown e yes. "Bonjour, mes amis. Your neighbor is a good kid, he looks just like Briere but bigger", he laughed.

"You're Luc Bourdon, but what are you doing here?", asked Marie, her voice calm except for a slight tremor.

Luc just laughed as he picked up the bottle from the floor and handed it to Ellen, the beer back inside like new. "Oui, madame Letang. Kris and Jordan have got themselves great jobs, non? Jordan makes a great security guy and Kris is good at fighting, non?", he chuckled.

"Luc, what you want?", asked Evgeni.

Luc sat down on the couch and just smiled. He looked the same as ever, wearing jeans and his ever-present Pantera shirt and sneakers, looking so real like he was solid. "I was just checking on you guys, I always try to keep up with what everyone else is doing", he chuckled.

"What about Alexei and Bill?", he asked.

"They're back home, since Bill's family and friends are all dead and Alexei's are back in Siberia, they can't really go anywhere", he said.

"How awful", Ellen murmured.

"Oui, madame Malkina. But that's how it works, we also cannot contact immediate relatives. Believe me, I want to see my mother and Charlene and speak with them", said Luc, a sad smile on his face.

Marie reached over and gave him a hug, surprised that he felt warm like a regular person. "You have a kind heart, Marie. I do wish I could come back, but I'm stuck here until all this is gets cleared up", he sighed.

"What is is like, Mr. Bourdon?", asked Ellen.

"Call me Luc, we are friends now. It's like Earth but a bit nicer, like a sitcom neighborhood. I'll show you", he said.

Suddenly, the whole room went white around the women. They found themselves in a neat suburban neighborhood that resembled a movie set as though seen through a pastel wash, the houses all in soft pale colors with manicured lawns. The street was totally empty of cars and devoid of the usual noises like singing birds and children playing as he led them to a house.

"Geno was already here, he can't come back unless he's actually dead", he explained when they saw Evgeni wasn't with them.

"Howdy, ladies. Would you like some vodka?", asked Bill politely.

"This is Bill Barilko, one of my housemates. Where is Alexei?", asked Luc.

Bill took some glasses out of the cupboard and jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. "I am sorry about, ladies. I am Alexei Cherepanov and it's a pleasure to meet you", he said.

The women sat down on the couch and Bill poured them each a generous measure of orange Stoli, handing them a glass. "Luc wanted to show you ladies he wasn't funning you, we're stuck here", he said as he slugged down the vodka.

Marie cautiously took a sip of the vodka and it tasted like regular vodka, to her relief. "I see, Mr. Barilko. But why exactly are you here?", she asked.

"As I told Kris, we're here because we got unfinished business. This is a kind of purgatory for people who have unfinished business, we're sort of like spirit guides. He was shocked at first but he got over it", he chuckled.

Ellen was processing all this in her head and sipped her vodka. "I see. Luc, how come you appeared to Maurice?", she said.

"I was just floating about and I recognized him, he looks just like Briere but tough. I sat next to him and chatted him up, he's a good kid. There's a lot of anger in him, though", said Luc thoughtfully.

"His mother left the family and ran off with her boyfriend, David got really drunk and Maurice had to make sure he did not choke on his vomit", said Marie as the men looked disgusted.

"Bitch, sorry about the language, ladies", said Bill apologetically.

"That is all right, Mr. Barilko", said Ellen.

"Luc, have you appeared to Kris again?", asked Marie.

"Oui, after you were at Mom's house when he was at the cemetery. I told him not to be sad, he was going on the adventure of a lifetime. You know, the summer of 2008, Kris was going to buy a motorcycle and ride across Canada with me. We had the trip all planned out and he even had the motorcycle he wanted, he was negotiating to buy it, we were going after the playoffs", said Luc.

"But it didn't happen, huh? I gotcha, we had over two thousand pounds of fish in the pontoons and I was gonna start my summer job in Kenora the next week, I was a golf pro at a club. I did it the year before and I loved it, and the money was pretty sweet. Then I was gonna start training and then the first home game at the Gardens was gonna be awesome, they were gonna show the Cup and the new banner and hand out the rings", said Bill, opening his huge hand to reveal the three gold championship rings with a dark blue stone in the middle displaying a white maple leaf in the center.

"And I was going to play in the Super League All-Star game, Jagr was coming along too. The last thing I remember was skating back to the bench and then it felt like the time I went swimming as a boy and almost drowned. I was scrambling for air and then I was calm, looking down and seeing everything happen. I do wish I could have talked with my girlfriend and my mother, but I can see them", said Alexei.

"At least your folks and your girl are still around, Alexei. Everyone I know in Timmins is dead, my folks and my brother and my girl married another guy", said Bill with a sigh.

"Je sais, Bill. I try to see everything in a positive way, I look at this as being better than hell", said Luc with a chuckle as the room slowly faded to black...
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The Cosmic Gerbil
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Poor Bill, that is really sad. I feel so bad for him :(
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Chapter 64

"Finally, we are going to see a real city", said Charles as the two cars approached the city limits of Detroit.

"Dude, Detroit sucks", said Jordan.

Charles raised an eyebrow, his fingers shaking slightly as he craved a cigarette. "Really, Jordan? We have played so many times in Detroit and nothing's ever happened to us there before, perhaps you had a bad time here", he said.

"Uh, yeah. When I was in juniors and we played a game in Windsor, we got lost in Detroit and my roommate got robbed", he said as Ilya and Charles nodded sympathetically.

"That is terrible, Jordan. We'll not be going anywhere bad then, we are staying at a casino in St. Clair Shores on the lake. It's own by a Mr. Cagliaro who is an associate of Monsieur Dupont, he's the head of the Detroit Mafia", said Ilya.

"Shit, is everything run by gangsters here?", he muttered.

Ilya raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he turned towards their exit. "Everything that is fun, casinos, gambling, brothels, you name it. Americans are very silly with laws like this, banning alcohol, prostitution, drugs, anything that people use to have fun. Imagine not being able to drink or smoke reefer", said Ilya as Charles nodded in disgust.

"Yeah, that sucks. But isn't this shit bad and dangerous?", asked Jordan.

"If you keep your mouth shut and behave, no. Montreal is full of gangsters and shit, that's what makes the city awesome. Imagine living in a dump like Toronto, that place is boring as fuck", said Charles.

"I agree, nothing is open on Sunday at all, not even the liquor stores. How can anyone handle that, and the Maple Leafs are a boring team, they take after Smythe", said Charles.

"Yeah, he's a boring old dude, Charles", agreed Jordan.

The caravan parked in the lot of the Cagliaro, the mammoth casino and hotel located right on the waterfront of Lake Huron. The structure had a brick facade and imitation black stone gargoyles on the edges, looking to all the world like a massive church or downtown skyscrapers. The only thing amiss was the huge parking lot in the rear and the lack of windows on the ground floor, the doorman a huge fat man in a specially tailored uniform that looked as though he could easily crush someone like a bug. A small army of workmen unloaded wooden barrels from a beer truck onto little carts as they transported them inside the basement, the men like so many ants working to provide for a colony.

Ilya parked the car next to Paul's Packard in the lot and everyone got out, Paul and Ilya leading the way inside as the guard deigned to look down at them. "Bonjour, monsieur Letang et monsieur Bereslov. Mr. Cagliaro can see you now", said the man in his deep, rumbly voice.

"Tres bien, Marcel", replied Paul graciously as the guard stepped aside to let them in.

The foyer of the casino was dark as it was not yet open to public and wouldn't be until later that evening, the sound of footsteps heard behind the locked casino room as a vacuum cleaner was pushed back and forth on the carpet. Paul and Ilya led them towards the elevator as he pressed the up button and then the button for the 10th floor, the doors closing behind them as it made its way upwards.

The elevator left them at the top floor of the building, the hallway plain with brown carpets and beige walls but clean with a few doors left alongside the left-hand side. Paul stopped in front of a set of large brown doors with gleaming brass knobs in a roseate shape, knocking on the door. There was the sound of footsteps as the doors were slowly opened, a fat bald man in a gaudy purple suit with red trim on the other side. "Bonjour, signore Amalfitano. We are here to perform", he said.

"Si, follow me. Signore Cagliaro will meet with you now", said the fat man in the purple suit as he led them inside.

The office was large and surrounded on one side with plate glass windows with a big wooden desk and a soft leather swivel chair facing the entrance, the decor all dark wood and muted wallpaper and brown carpets. Seated at the desk was a man with his back to the men as he looked out the window at the surrounding area, the top of his black fedora barely visible above the chair. He turned around slowly in his chair and gave them a little smile, taking a puff off his cigarette that he held in a silver and ivory cigarette holder as he examined them. The man looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, quite short and thin and wearing a gray suit with white pinstripes, looking every bit like a gangster who was the head of a large crime family.

"Bonjour, monsieurs. Your rooms are on the sixth floor and the first show is tonight as nine in the main casino, you have the run of the place and later perhaps one of the girls will entertain you if you wish", said Cagliaro, his somewhat high-pitched voice with a slight Italian accent.

"Grazie, but my wife would not like it if I were one of your fine ladies, signore Cagliaro", said Paul apologetically.

Cagliaro just chuckled as he took another drag off his cigarette. "Of course, you such a lovely wife, monsieur Letang. But the rest of you, enjoy yourselves while you are here. Just keep your mouths shut if you see anything, we have some important guests from New York coming here later on", he said, waving his hand as to dismiss them.


Jordan followed the rest of the band downstairs to the casino as they prepared to play the show tonight. "Does that mean there's going to be gangsters here, lucky I know how to keep my mouth shut", he said dryly.

Ilya nodded as he reached into his suit jacket for his cigarettes and lighter, opening the box and withdrawing one as he lit the tip and took a drag. "Da, of course. That's what he meant, there's a lot of gangsters here and there, they are in every city worth its salt. Last time we played here, there was a conference of fellows like Dutch Schultz and Bugsy Siegel from New York, them and their bodyguards", he said as Jordan tried not to look horrified.

"Don't have that look on your face, Jordan", said Ilya with a chuckle, taking another drag off his cigarette as he tried to blow smoke rings.

Jordan had to smile at the small pathetic rings he blew, the rings dissipating barely a second after he blew them. "Dude, you suck at that", he teased.

Ilya just laughed as he tried again, this time the rings having more heft to them as they slowly drifted into the air. "I just have to keep trying, I am going to get better at it", he chuckled.

The band entered the casino and went straight towards the stage as Jordan tried not gawk at the huge room. It resembled a casino in Vegas or Atlantic City but slightly more restrained with its dark purple carpet and wine-red walls, the center area taken up with slot machines, roulette wheels and card tables with the tuxedo-clad croupiers dealing cards to various people ranging from elderly couples to automotive workers from Detroit and teenage couples. A long bar at one end served drinks and a bunch of small tables nearby held various couples and lone men drinking, a white baby grand piano in the background being played by a middle-aged man in a tuxedo.

Jordan felt a vague sense of unease when he glanced over and recognized the group of men seated at a table in a corner, quickly looking away. "That's Lucky Luciano and Bill Tocco, the head of the Detroit Partnership", whispered Ilya. Luciano looked far more menacing in person than he had in his mugshot pictures he'd seen on Wikipedia, the little Sicilian man with his heavily-scarred swarthy face and droopy eye looking exactly like the head of Murder Inc. The other man was skinny and had the wariness of a heron looking for fish in a pond, black hair with a heavy layer of pomade under a gray fedora and equally black eyes in a swarthy face pockmarked from smallpox, every bit as ugly as Luciano himself.

Jordan tried not to run or feel sick when Luciano approached them, his crooked mouth turned up in a half-smile. "You the band playin' tonight, I want ya to play Parade of the Milk Bottle Caps, that's my favorite", he said in his thick Italian-Brooklyn accent and gravelly voice.

"Oui, monsieur", said Paul kindly with a smile.

Jordan was very relieved when Luciano rejoined the other man at the table, his knees and hands still shaking. "Don't worry, those guys tip really good", said Ilya knowingly.
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The Cosmic Gerbil
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It must have been really scary when Luciano approached Jordan :O I hope he has learnt the song and can play it good.
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Chapter 65

Jordan sighed with relief when he saw the signs for the city limits of Montreal, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. "Je sais, mon ami. All that driving and going all over the place, but we made a lot of money. Especially when we played at the casino in Detroit and Luciano gave us that big tip, you have to be nice to these guys", said Charles with a laugh.

"Dude, that guy is like one of the biggest gangsters ever. Weren't you at all freaked out?", Jordan wondered aloud.

"Jordan, we have played shows with gangsters in the audience and nothing ever happens. All you have to do is play what they want to hear and keep your mouth shut, lucky these guys have good taste in music", said Ilya dryly.

"And my sister is coming down from Hearst today to attend secretary school, she's living with David and me and the boys. It would be good for the boys to have a woman around who isn't Tante Odette, she's no fun and Maurice can't stand her, she doesn't like him drinking", said Charles.

"I reckon so, imagine living with an old nun. I hope Kris and Geno and the girls weren't bored shitless", teased Jordan.

Ilya raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Charles drove towards their house, dropping him off and then Jordan and finally parking in the driveway of the Briere house. The boys saw the car and Jacques and Pascal embraced their father, Maurice clapping the big red head on the back and embracing his father. "Bonjour, Papa et Charles. Where is Mademoiselle Charlotte coming?", asked Pascal.

"She is arriving in the train station later, she will call when she arrives. And did you behave for Tante Odette?", asked David as the boys led him inside.

"David, I am glad to see you. And these boys cannot behave themselves, especially Maurice. He goes out drinking every night and smokes like a fiend, he is going to turn into you", said Odette disapprovingly.

David frowned and tried not to scowl at his sister. "Odette, Maurice is a grown man and he works very hard at his job and pays most of the bills in this house. If he wants to go drinking at Mullane's and smoke cigarettes, that is his right to do so. If you worked at what he does, you would want to drink and smoke too", he chided.

"But that is bad for you, and that is a disgusting bar full of lowlives. David, do you want your son to be a loser?", she asked disdainfully.

"Odette, you will be respectful to my son or else you will go elsewhere", said David sternly.

Odette left the room in a huff and went upstairs, Maurice smiling grimly. "Merci, Papa. The last thing I want to do after work is listen to the old bat, I just want some drinks and my smokes", he sighed, his fingers shaking slightly as he reached into his jeans pocket for his pack of Pall Malls and a lighter. Maurice flipped open the box and carefully took out a cigarette, placing the box back in his pocket and the cigarette in his mouth as he lit the tip and took a drag.

David chuckled as he bummed a cigarette from his son and lit the tip, blowing out neat little smoke rings. "Wow, how do you do that, Papa?", asked Pascal in awe.

David laughed as he ruffled his youngest son's hair. "I used to smoke a lot more when I was younger, but I don't smoke as much. You will have to wait a few years before you can smoke", he teased.

Maurice finished smoking his cigarette as he deposited the smoldering butt into the white ceramic ashtray on the table, going upstairs to his room. It was evening now and the streetlights had been turned on, the sky above a dark midnight blue with a new pale moon casting its feeble glow on the neighborhood. He plopped down on the bed and took out his bottle of whiskey and the shot glass, feeling quite bold as he left it on the nightstand in plain view now that his father was home. After pouring himself a shot, he sat up in bed and slowly sipped the amber liquid as the malty taste of the Scotch lingered on his tongue and a smooth burn went down his belly.

It's great to have Papa home, Tante Odette was starting to get on my nerves, he chuckled dryly.

Maurice sipped the Scotch and became deep in thought, glancing out the window. He thought back to the odd encounter he had at Mullane's with Luc, the cigarettes going back into its pack and how abruptly he had left. And I haven't seen him anywhere in the neighborhood or Lemoyne or anywhere else, unless he's in another part of Montreal. Maurice was still thinking about this and trying to remember everything from their weird encounter, wondering if there was anything he had missed. At first glance he didn't recall anything that was out of place about Luc, the other man about the same age and speaking with a heavy Acadian accent but even that was not unusual around here where French people from all over Canada lived. Maybe I'll see him around somewhere, he mused, pouring himself another Scotch.


"Wow, you guys met Lucky Luciano? Sacre bleu!", exclaimed Marie, her blue eyes in shock.

Jordan laughed grimly as Ellen handed him a beer, sitting down on the couch. "Yep, I actually came to face with the guy, the one-and-only. He's uglier than in his picture on Wikipedia, he's short too but scary as fuck. He did give us a huge tip for playing this song he liked, but I was still scared shitless when I saw him. Hell, that casino in Detroit was full of gangsters and shit", he said, shaking his head.

Evgeni frowned when he heard this, taking a sip of his own beer. "Da, you meet gangsters then, Jordan? That sound very scary", he said.

"Yeah, but I'm the one who actually met the dude. Is Al Capone still alive here?", he asked dryly.

"Aye, but he's in Alcatraz for tax evasion. Of all the things they could have gotten him for", said Ellen, shaking her head.

"No shit, for real? Fuck, the cops must have been dumb as hell", he muttered.

"Kris has a new job, he works as a security guy for a club owned by a gangster named Dupont, Marco works with him and got him the job", said Marie.

"Shit, Tanger's involved with gangster's too? Was everyone a gangster back then?", he asked incredulously.

"Who knows, but there was more organized crime back then. And look at this", said Ellen happily, opening the cabinet where the records were and taking out a bunch of them.

"Whoa, this is the stuff my grandma likes. But isn't this from the 60's?", he asked, seeing several Patsy Cline and Jim Reeves and Marty Robbins albums.

"Aye, but Marco brought them over. This is bloody good", said Ellen as she took one of them out of its sleeve and placed it on the turntable, Crazy by Patsy Cline coming from the Victrola: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OVtpnpCOKM

Crazy
I'm Crazy for feeling so lonely
I'm crazy
Crazy for feeling so blue

I knew
You'd love me as long as you wanted
And then someday
You'd leave me for somebody new

Worry
Why do I let myself worry
Wond'rin'
What in the world did I do

Oh! Crazy
For thinking that my love could hold you
I'm crazy for tryin'
I'm Crazy for cryin'
And I'm crazy
For lovin' you


Jordan watched as Evgeni took Ellen by the hand and led her in a waltz to the haunting Patsy Cline ballad, frowning at the sudden sense of jealousy he felt when he saw them. Marie gave him a sympathetic smile and a little hug, a kind look in her blue eyes. "You will find someone, Jordan", she said as he smiled at her.
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Glad it went OK with the gangster :)

Poor Jordan though...I hope he can find a girlfriend soon.
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