Viper's Dream by Jake Lamar

Author:Jake Lamar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

* * *

As they walked through the streets of Harlem, Viper had no idea where Peewee was taking him. He was just glad to see him again.

“Any news from Yolanda?” Peewee asked.

“Pork Chop says she joined a convent,” Viper said.

“Yeah, he told me that same shit. You believe him?”

“Pork Chop also said he hadn’t heard from you.”

“He hadn’t till this morning. And here he is now.”

They arrived at Mr. O’s nightclub. The facade was hidden behind a metal grate. Standing in front of the club were three men: Pork Chop Bradley, Detective Red Carney, and another white man: young, thin, and pale, wearing a somber suit and thick eyeglasses.

“Well, hello, Viper Clyde.”

“Hello, Detective Carney. How was your war?”

“Not so bad. Killed a lot of Germans. Let me introduce you to Dan Miller of the law firm Schneider, Miller, and Bloom.”

“Mr. O’s firm,” Viper said.

He and the lawyer shook hands.

“Yes, my father, Myron Miller was a close adviser to Abraham Orlinsky. I’m back from the war and have just joined the firm. My father has handed over much of the Orlinsky dossier to me.”

“Turns out Mr. O left a will, Clyde,” Pork Chop said.

“Yeah,” Carney said, “but you and Pork Chop aren’t in it.”

Dan Miller said, “The nightclub has been bequeathed to Mr. Peter Woodrow Robinson.”

The gaunt, young lawyer handed Peewee the keys to the club.

“Thanks, Miller,” Peewee said. “Just so y’all know, once we reopen the club, I’m changing the name from Mr. O’s to Peewee’s.”

The proud new proprietor unlocked the metal grate and rolled it up.

“Where can we discuss business?” Dan Miller asked.

“Follow me upstairs, gents,” Peewee said.

Viper felt a rush when he stepped out onto the rooftop. The vast Harlem sky. The sound of warbling pigeons, the traffic below. This was where he had met his destiny, where Pork Chop Bradley had introduced him to Mary Warner, nearly ten years earlier.

“So, gentlemen,” Dan Miller said, “all signs indicate that the market for marijuana is going to continue to expand. Mr. O’s Harlem monopoly on Mexican locoweed has been broken up among a number of dealers. But we’re not concerned with Mexico. Under our new business plan, the supply will be originating in California. Our firm is connected with a large marijuana farm near San Francisco.”

“It’s concealed amid a bunch of vineyards in the Sonoma Valley wine country,” Red Carney said.

“And it’s some good shit, too,” Peewee said. He pulled out a joint, lit it up, took a drag, then held the stick out to the lawyer. “Miller?”

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

“I’ll take a hit,” Red Carney said. “I don’t go on duty for another two hours.” The ruddy cop sucked hungrily on the joint.

“Once the new nightclub opens,” Dan Miller said, “that will be our base of operations. Gage will be delivered by truck, boxloads of joints, marked as ordinary restaurant supplies. We’d like you to return as leader of the house band, Mr. Bradley.”

“My pleasure,” Pork Chop said. “May I have a hit off that joint, Detective?”

“I didn’t forget you, Pork Chop,” Carney said, coughing and passing the stick.

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