The Cantina biz grew all summer. The city of Los Angeles shifted gears from a sprawling port authority gobbling up outlining land whenever possible to expand refineries and container parking to a harbor seeking a balance with the community.
San Pedro hosted five miles of coastline with less than a mile accessible to the public. With a new mayor at the helm land use philosophies changed. More restaurants popped up. The LA Public responded and rolled to the port including riders from all over the city.
Bandit expanded the Cantina patio area and hired bands on weekends to entertain the crowds. Marko Looked for additional waitresses and the Chinaman hired more galley help including Juan and his equally Hispanic bride, Anita. They worked diligently. Juan was short and had mouth a full of glistening braces, and he was 30 something. He smiled constantly under his sweat stained ball cap. Anita, at 5?5?, with creamy olive skin and dark eyes that darted with hesitation, hustled from one galley task to another.
Weekends jammed. Marko expanded the motorcycle only parking and hired a massive Asian Body guard, Luna, with an evil glare and a long dark Fu Man Chu, mustache to watch the bikes.
Marko studied the new staff members reluctantly, including a tall, drink-o?-water blonde who came with stellar recommendations, maybe too exceptional. Her thinning ponytail hair was Orange County surfer-girl perfect, and her eyes were a pale blue that spoke of fiery Opals. Marko cringed at the inclination that her eyes were fire-like stones.
?Have any extra shifts,? Sheila, the blonde, asked Marko after her first week on the job.
Why?s that,? Marko asked?
I like working here,? Sheila said. ?This gin joint ain?t bad. Remember the movie ?Casablanca? with Humphrey Bogart? That?s where I picked up ?Gin Joint?. I love that old flick. It?s so romantic.?
?Enough,? Marko shut her rambling down. ?Why do you want an extra shift, low on funds??
?No,? Sheila returned immediately. ?Tips are terrific here. Last night I rolled out with $200 in cash. One guy tipped so much I followed him from the bar to the dining room and back.?
Stick with your assigned station,? Marko said and glared at here pupils. They were dilated. Bandit didn?t drug test and swore he never would. Marko recognized a tweaker instantly and took her by the slender arm outside.
?Listen,? Marko said, ?I don?t like tweakers around here. Do what you want on your own time, but beware meth will eat you alive.
She looked at Marko hard. A smug grin creased her lips, ?Can I have an extra shift??
?No,? Marko said directly.
?Why,? Sheila?s glare intensified?
?I?ll let you know,? Marko said, and his voice turned stern. ?Better get to it. You?re on the clock.?
?Why can?t I have the shift,? Sheila asked again?? She followed Marko?s wide shoulders back through the large, distressed Oak doors. For an hour Marko watched her move through her waitress duties with jaunted, sullen body language. She wasn?t happy, and then she hit the head and her bubbly demeanor returned. She glided through the work hours like warm syrup poured from a slick glass pitcher. Marko recognized trouble. He liked the staff the way it was. He didn?t like adding unknowns into the mix.
Nyla glanced at Marko, then at Sheila with a knowing wink. Sheila?s big eyes and constant gregarious banter gave the meth away.
Marko shook his head and pushed open the swinging galley door to check the kitchen action. The rotund Chinaman moved like a master Harley mechanic cooking up a high performance engine. He used tools with respect and pride. His crew silently danced from one task to another. Marko took inventory of the staff. There were two more Hispanic workers with their sleeves rolled up bustling around the stainless deep sink. A small child sat quietly and watched, what presumably were his or her parents, and held a small wooden, Mexican toy.
?Yo,? Marko shouted over the clamoring din of the kitchen activity, and caught the Chinaman?s attention. ?What gives??
Hep with clean-up,? Chinaman said in broken English and returned to his harried cooking duties. He appeared too move in five different directions at once, flipping sizzling pans, adjusting burners, arranging plates and spitting egg shells while motioning to his staff.
Marko never understood the Chinaman?s ability to train or communicated with his crew, Hispanic or not. He spoke no Spanish and only an awkward dozen busted English words, but the job was handled with aplomb, like a talented magician.
Marko worked with the big lumbering man, who wore pristine uniforms daily, for over five years and was amazed. He was an incredible chef, the kitchen was constantly immaculate and the crew worked diligently.
Marko nodded and backed out of the Kitchen. The dining room and bar was packed. Nyla played grab-ass with Mandy to the customers? delight. Tina hustled from table to table and the roar of more Harleys filled the lot. ?Saturday afternoon bled into the evening effortlessly and the night bar crowd replaced dinner customers. The Charlie Brechtel band set up on the make shift stage and swapped mariachi dinner Mexican tunes for blues and rock.
As Charlie played the 5-Ball Blues, a tribute to Bandit?s five wives and marriage blues, Marko?s pager vibrated on his hip. It let him know that Luna wanted his attention. He flipped open his walkie-talkie, ?Come in, over,? he said.
?There?s a limo fulla trouble outside,? Luna said dryly and clicked off his phone. As Marko pushed open the massive Oak front door he spotted two sizeable-armed thugs standing on either side of Luna.
?Thank you,? a large black man said from the leather interior behind the lowered rear window. His flabby neck housed a sea of gold bling along with gold inlays on his front bleached teeth.
Marko looked over the hood of the dark limo to Luna and the thugs. They indicated for him to come around the long stretch to their side, but Marko knew better. He tapped on the glass on the opposite side and knelt down beside the Cadillac. The window automatically slid down.
?My boy said the other side, chump,? Bling said.
?This is my parking lot, pal. Whatta you need,? Marko said? Bling?s face cringed, but he remained tough.
?One of my babies is working for you,? Bling said. ?She owes me big time. I know you?ll see that she gets all the cooperation she needs.? The window rolled up before Marko could respond.
As Marko stood the bullies moved around the car swiftly and pushed him out of the way, yanking open the rear car door. Marko spun and put his back against the long stretched body. Sheila was standing in the doorway grinning. The second thug crawled into the car interior and slammed the door. It sped across the parking lot.
Just as quickly Marko swiftly drew his 45 cal H&K from his lower back holster, chambered a round, clicked off the safety and crouched into a perfect firing position aiming at the rear of the tinted window limo. He faked two shots, not wanting to alarm any customers, stood, withdrew the hammer, snapped the safety on and re-holstered the weapon.
?What?s going on,? Frankie, who was sweeping the parking lot, ran to Marko?s side?
?Not much,? Marko said. ?Don?t sweat it.? Marko ignored Sheila and turned to Luna. ?You all right,? he said?
?Yeah,? Luna replied and pulled on his Fu Man Chu that made him look even more menacing.
?You know these people,? Marko asked?
?No,? Luna said, ?but I suspect a major meth dealer. ?I see him at various nightclubs in Hollywood. He likes to set up someone inside. He sometimes owns a joint before long. Then I move on.?
?I can see it,? Marko said and went back inside. The rest of the night was uneventful aside from Sheila?s stares. She departed when her shift was over. At 2:00 Marko and the staff shut down and he took his fishing gear to the edge of the dock and cracked open his first beer of the night, a Corona.
It was 3:00 a.m. when Marko?s nylon line touched the oil tainted briny harbor water. Suddenly he noticed a scent in the air. It wasn?t the smell of bleach and disinfectant used usually to clean the kitchen. It was the smell of Mexican food on a grill. He set his drop-line down and went to investigate. Behind the closed Cantina, next to the steel dumpster, an illegal alien family set up a tent and were grilling Cantina leftovers on a makeshift barbecue. Marko recognized the couple working over the deep sink, by the glow from their small fire.
He backed away quietly, shook his head and returned to his fishing and beer.
