Solomon Luke
"I don't care that she had a new kid, Sol!" Vinny yelled at Solomon. "I don't give a #($*(#*$ about her; her old man owed Scarlotti big and you were supposed too...hey, who the ($(%*$(% are you?"
Vinny, Ralfie, and Scars turned to look behind Solomon. Ralfie started to pull his big 44 when a soft voice said. "I wouldn't do that, Ralph. I'd like to talk to Vincent."
"I talk to who ever I want to, punk. And you're interrupting my business." Sneered Vinnie.
Solomon slowly turned, but was wise enough to keep his hands away from his pockets. The old man had a Dodger's cap and one of those too many sizes too big Navy coats on. The ones you find at the Goodwill when you can't find anything else. His hands were in front of him, and through the unbuttoned jacket Solomon could see the well worn flannel shirt. "This guy don't like the cold." Was Solomon's first thought. Immediately followed by "Oh my god, his eyes see everything...this is going to get bad...real bad..."
"Davvero si vuole parlare con me, amico." The bum said, as if English wasn't his only native tounge. "I want to discuss some of your collection policies."
"Waste him!" Vinnie yelled, grabbing for his 357 Magnum.
Solomon saw it in the bum's eyes; a sort of feral sadness. Solomon wanted to take his own piece out and use it, but then he really wasn't sure who really needed to be shot most. Certainly the three men beside him wouldn't be too missed by the greater part of the community. Solomon himself could probably be judged no more worthy either. His had been a hard life, and he didn't always make the choices that would have pleased his momma or old Preacher Johnson.
Solomon steeled himself and merely moved his hands further away. If now was the day he went home to momma, then he'd damn well do it like a man, facing himself and his killer.
Solomon looked the bum in the eyes. Or tried to, but the nearly half inch diameter bore of a still smoking 1911 caught his attention. He heard the tinkling of brass then, as the spent ammo fell to the floor. His mind registered that there had been shots, lots of them and almost a blur.
About the time Solomon realized the bum had just emptied his magazine and reloaded in one swift motion, he heard three bodies nearby collapse.
"Damn..." was all he could say.
"You didn't beat up the lady on 16th, did you."
"Uh, no sir." Solomon wasn't sure who the guy was, but anyone that fast should be called sir. Momma may not be proud of his career, but she always prided herself on having a smart boy.
"Maybe you should find another job." The bum looked at the bodies slumped near Solomon. Ralphie's head was half cocked on Solomon's shin and the back of his head was oozing on Solomon's pant leg. The big bore never wavered.
"I have a friend who runs a taxi business...he's been asking for help."
"Solomon, is it?"
Solomon nodded.
"Taxi drivers are smart people, Solomon. They see lots of things and meet lots of interesting people. You strike me as a smart man, Solomon." The bore went down slowly, and into it's holster. The bums eyes never left Solomon. "I have friends who drive taxies, Solomon. I think you might be good at it."
"Met your old man."
Bill nodded as if he'd expected this. He wasn't, in reality, too surprised. A lot of people who'd helped him seemed to have met his Dad somewhere, and the old man had left behind him a storm of favors and enemies and contacts. Unlikely wasn't the same as impossible, especially these days. But he still kept an eye on the other man, with skin that had started showing wrinkles and age with lazy hooded eyes. They didn't fool Bill. The way the man held himself was anything from lazy. He'd helped take down those thugs, with a little too much enjoyment, but there hadn't been much lazy in there. And as he'd learned from his father and his life, you didn't let what people presented themselves to be get in the way of seeing what they were. This man had let the crooks see him as lazy, and for their troubles they were now lying still on the ground. Bill hoped they were still alive. He expected so. He hadn't killed any, and while his ally's moves might have looked gratuitously painful, they hadn't seemed lethal.
The man dropped his four-by-two with a crash - he seemed to like holding something in his hands during a fight - and gave Bill a nice little nod, slightly theatrical, from the head. "This here's Sol." He said simply. "May o' may not have mentioned me."
There was a groan from below. One of Solomon's victims, still awake, whimpered pitifully. Solomon moved his foot slightly and trod on one of the fingers. There was a snap, and Solomon's expression brightened. "Been wantin' to do that a while." He said. "Nice of you to give me an excuse. That's one for all the kids, Bennie. How you like that?"
Bill kept watching as Solmon dusted himself down, wearing a far too big jacket that reminded him of those Navy coats and an old, shapeless fedora with a faded band in it. He looked the man up and down, trying to work out a little about him, and then gazed him up in the eye. "Assault, GBH, and who knows what else." He said simply, ready to move. "Is there a pressing reason I shouldn't arrest you right now?"
Solomon smiled.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure there's some reason I don't have jurisdiction right at this moment." Bill kept his Walther holstered. Looking a bit disgusted at things, he muttered. "Besides, you and my old man have the same tailor and that's a capital offence in several states. I'm not up for that much paperwork."
"Bill York." Bill said as he stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm sure if he mentioned you it was in the most glowing terms. Everyone else seemed to wind up on a 'Missing Person' report somewhere or other."
"The boy's a real smart one, sir." Solomon said. He had known Leo for years now and still had the habit of calling the older man 'sir'. "Straight 'A' student with a full load and a job on the side to cover bills."
"Solomon, he's related to you! He must be bright!" Janice said, putting another serving on his plate as a large yacht shifted their sailboat to and fro. No one else seemed botherd by it, and even Solomon had gotten used to the small space aboard the Catherine.
Solomon smiled as he thanked Janice for the food. How she cooked such wonderful meals while living on a sailboat he really didn't understand. Nor did he understand how she had survived the cut across her neck that had left such a jagged scar. He had seen cuts like that, maybe he would one day admit to making some of his own. Not today though, and not in this company. He knew what had happened to the man who gave her that scar.
Leo seemed lost in thought for a few minutes. "What is it you're not telling me?"
Solomon looked at Janice, both blushed. "Well, my love..."
"Let me, Miz York. I want Mister Leo to know it up front." Solomon held his cup tightly. The solidity of it gave him comfort. "You remember back a few years, Mister Leo, you visited me in the City and we talked about a lot of things. Including stocks and a few trades you said looked promising. Jimmie was listening in, sir. He's the one who kept bringing us drinks. Tall..."
"Tall, rather thin, left pinky finger broken some years ago. Worn sneakers three styles old."
"Yes sir." Solomon had stopped being amazed at what Mister Leo saw and remembered. "He had saved up some of his own cash and he listened to what you had said and why the stocks looked good. The next day he talked to his economics teacher who laughed in his face and called him a fool." Solomon drank from his cup. "Jimmie ain't no fool sir, and I've talked about you enough that he knew which side the sun came up on. So he took his next semester's college fund and invested it like you said."
Solomon stopped to smile. "Paid for the next year and a half, sir! And he got an A in economics to boot! After that a few of the other students started talking to him and they pooled their money. Jimmie's bright and they all are a bit better off, but..."
"But, my love." Janice said as she snuggled close to Leo. "Solomon and I think Jimmie could really use some international experience." She looked away for a second. "I may have mentioned to Solomon that Firenze is the banking capitol of the universe."
Solomon smiled. "You may have at that, Miz Janice. And I may have mentioned it to Jimmie one time. Maybe. Not sure why but the boy done got himself straight A's in Italian too! Speaks it like any of the w...natives...Sir."
Leo held up his hands in surrender...
"Sol, thanks for meeting with me." Bill said, sliding into the booth opposite Solomon. His attempts at casual; missing the tie but obviously a normally tie-wracked neck and the sleeves rolled back on his fitted shirt told Solomon what Bill didn't have to say. Bill was in good times and loving it. Of course the other four guys that came in first and scoped the place out before Bill was allowed in said something, as well. The grey was taking over Bills head, as it was Solomons. Both men's eyes reflected the wear that many years of seeing unpleasent things did does to a man.
"What can I do for you, Bill? Your note said a private matter."
Bill nodded. "Private...very. A family matter." Bill lowered his voice. "I understand from sources that you're looking to put together an irregular team of consultants." Holding up his hand in objection, Bill quickly continued. "You know it's none of my concern unless you impact our company or the resources."
"You want someone on the team..." Soloman said, softly.
Again, Bill nodded. "Look, if it's too much or a bad idea, say so. I won't ask your or anyone else to put yourselves out for this, but ...it's my youngest son, Luke,"
"The biker?" Sol asked.
"The former biker. The former college student. The former lots of thigs..." Bill sighed. "I'm not sure how to say this, but I need a trusted pair of eyes on him. If he is redeemable then you're the man to do it. You've seen that side of life more than I have."
Sol nodded. "And if he's not redeemable?"
Bill just grimaced.
Luke rolled his Harley backwards to the sidewalk and smiled as the old woman walking by glared at him. "I get that a lot, ma'am." He cranked the big engine to maximum volume before levering off and shuting down. "Hope it keeps you awake at night, sweetheart. Throbbing is good for you."
Luke was as grungy as many bikers get while on the road. He bathed when he could but the long blonde hair and wispy beard really didn't seem used to fancy shampoo. For all his time in the saddle, Luke was still wirey of frame and had that "how about a quickie in the backroom" look to him that kept him busy more often than not. Jeans, big square toe boots, leather jacket with some patches on it, and a clean t-shirt completed his ensemble.
He mentally checked the address and scoped out the street. Not a bad place, one more that he didn't really fit in. However, with the economy in the crapper and crime on the rise he and his kind weren't so different anymore. That saddened him a bit, oddly. Much of his life had been based on...
"Don't go there!" he commanded himself. Luke knew who he was even if his nut job mom and her bum boyfriend didn't. Obviously his real father didn't give a rats fleas about anyone but Junior, so youngest son Luke made his own way in life. And right now life said there were some people he might want to work with. Him for his reasons, them for theirs.
Luke checked his hardware and went in to the bar.
