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CALL ME THE BREEZEEd "Cool Breeze" Byrd had come to believe that he was a major player in the streetscene of downtown Orlando. Although he didn't have a string of whores like somepimps, he did have one, that was a start. Even if she wasn't the smartest bitch toever walk down the street. He had a good side business going on selling quarters,halves, and ounces of weed to the tourists who were in town to see Walt and theMouse, and the college kids who were here to get laid and loaded. Ed had evenpimped himself out a few times to some white college bitches from some backwatertown up north who had wanted to see what a black stud like himself was like in thesack. He hadn't disappointed. He thought anyway. He had struck gold though with the blackmail scheme. Orlando was not only atourist town but it was also a Navy town. There was a boot camp here and Floridawas full of bases. It brought in sailors and officers alike. And white boys are nodifferent than them white bitches. Them white boys want to see what that blacktrim is all about. That's where Cool Breeze came in. Breeze had his whore, Belinda, dumb as a stump but still a damn fine looking girl,pick up unsuspecting sailors and take them to the Pink Fox motel, which is whereCool Breeze had greased the hand of the manager with a three hundred dollarmonthly payment and a weekly blow job from Belinda, to allow Breeze to install atwo way mirror in one of the rooms. Once the sailor was brought into the room and started getting in on with Belinda,Breeze would either photograph or videotape the session, which he would sell tothe underground porno trade. Depending on the john, Breeze would then quite oftenbust into the room with his .45 drawn and blackmail the john right out of hiswallet and any expensive jewelry he might have. Twice it had gone wrong. One white boy, a bodybuilder, had actually jumped up andcharged the Breeze Man. Breeze, while backpedaling in fright, had fired off anaccidental round which caught the john square in the chest. The second time the boy had like a religious fit or something when Breeze hadbusted in and started screaming about what his momma would do if she ever foundout he had been tapping a black woman. Breeze had to stick him with his blade toshut him up. He couldn't shoot him. Otto, the motel manager, had almost kickedBreeze out after the time he had shot the cracker with his piece. Breeze even hadto rent one of those cleaning vacuums you get at the grocery store to clean thecarpet in the room after that one. He had dumped both bodies in a dumpster. Once behind a Shoneys, because they wereracist bastards. And the other one behind a McDonalds, because once he had goneinto one to use their can and the manager had forced him to buy something first.Plus, he hated their fucking fries. No one had fries like White Castle. Couldn'tget them in Florida though. He never knew if the bodies were ever found. Breezewasn't big on the news or reading papers. But with two other marks he had hit the jackpot. Breeze was behind the mirror one slow Thursday night when Belinda brought in ajohn and Breeze almost passed out in excitement when he saw who it was. It was thegoddamn executive officer of the Naval training facility, the same prick that hadsigned off on Cool Breeze's very own dishonorable discharge. Breeze had enlisted in Detroit and hadn't done well enough on the entrance exam to
 
get a school guaranteed to him. So after boot camp, which took him thirteen weeks,instead of the normal nine, Breeze had to stay in Orlando for on the job trainingbefore he was to be assigned a ship, where most likely his assignments would bethe chipping and sanding of paint and the cleaning of shitters. While in thisrigorous training phase of his career, Breeze had taken it upon himself to exposehis crank to a female recruit and had invited her to feast upon it. He had beenarrested, court martialed, and discharged within a week.He remained in Orlando because he enjoyed the climate much more than Detroit. Plusin Detroit there was about two thousand people he had fucked over who wantedBreeze either dead or very hurt. The man who was now humping Belinda wildly was the same asshole who had had Breezedrummed out of the service, calling Breeze a "disgusting piece of crap" and a"disgrace to the uniform." Breeze now had in his possession the taped around theworld event of the officer and Belinda, and he received a six hundred dollar amonth retainer to make sure that no one ever would see the tape. His second monthly payment came from another officer. This one was an ensign but afemale. She had paid Belinda a hundred dollars to go down on her and had gotten soworked up that she had returned the favor. She paid Breeze four hundred a month tokeep the video out of sight, but he had also sold the video to his undergroundbuddies. No one was the wiser. So all in all, the Breeze should have been a happy camper but he wasn't. He was infact, a nervous wreck. He was standing on the street, about a half a block fromhis digs, a fifth floor walkup, in front of his favorite bar and grill, TheBearded Clam, with Belinda, and Breeze felt like he could shit cream corn at anyminute. What had happened last night had fucking freaked him. Scared the absoluteshit out of him. He had been behind the mirror when the door to the adjoining room had opened andBrenda came in with this big, football playing, weightlifting type. He had amilitary haircut but it almost looked like he was trying to grown one of thosemohawk looking things that those Sid Vicious dudes used to wear around Detroit.More like that wrestler, the one in The Road Warriors, he used to watch them onTed Turner's superstation, it looked more like that. But the guy was big, he wasscary looking, and he had freaky fucking eyes. Big tattoo of a pit bull on hisback. Breeze decided to let this one pass. He was trouble. Brenda had given the dude a half and half and after the Road Warrior had gottendone with the second half, the guy had gotten up, ripped off his rubber and thrownit at Breeze's mirror. It had stuck right in front of Breeze's face, and then themonster had grinned right at the mirror and did one of those finger/gun cockingthings. He paid Belinda, had gotten dressed, and then walked out. Breeze was freaked beyond belief.Belinda had to have told the guy. How the hell else would he have known? He wasstanding in front of the Clam, holding onto Belinda by both arms, and screaming soloud at her that her face was speckled with Breeze's spit. He didn't give a shitif anyone heard. HOW THE HELL DID THAT GUY KNOW?The Warrior was grinning as he watched the couple through his binoculars. He wassitting on a chair in front of a window in Ed "Cool Breeze" Byrd's apartment. Theapartment had a cheap lock purchased at Wal Mart. It had been a cinch to pick. Thedoor was such a piece of shit he could have kicked it off the hinges it had wantedto but he was afraid of waking up the neighbors. The apartment was one of those
 
ancient old dumps that had been built in the 1950s, had a grace period of a decadeor so, then went straight down the crapper, until a few years ago when it becametrendy to fix up old crack and whorehouses and then rent them out at upscaleprices. Byrd was the only black that the Warrior had seen in the building.Probably made the yuppies feel good living among the common folk. The neighborhood hadn't quite caught up. It was still littered with hookers,tattoo parlors, adult book stores, and pawn shops, but it too was becoming atrendy place to go slumming in for an evening. Looking up and down the street youcould see an occasional Mercedes Benz parked in front of a strip club, or a BMW inthe parking lot of an old skin flick theater. Warrior gazed around the apartment. It was decorated in a 70s kind of decor, likea cross between Shaft and All in the Family. He looked back down onto the street,Breeze was still reaming out his hooker. It didn't take much to shake the placedown, it was really just a big studio apartment with a separate bathroom. It evenhad one of those old Murphy style beds. Breeze had one of those huge, ancientstereo systems set up on a big book case. When he opened the cabinet heimmediately found what he was looking for. A stack of videotapes and they wereeven labeled. The still photos that he had taken were wrapped with rubber bandsand had the date and time when they were taken. Holy shit, was this guy anal orjust plain stupid? Warrior slipped the videos and pictures he was looking for intothe gym bag he always carried on his gigs. This job had really been a vacation, lotta other cases had been harder andsmarter, but not this dumbass. It was hard to believe that the military actuallypaid him to do this shit. His dad had been right. All that special forces trainingwould eventually pay off. The old man just would never know how. After Warrior located Breeze, who had the nocturnal habits of a pimp, he spent hisdays on the beach, and nights tailing Breeze. The man disgusted Warrior. He was a bottom feeder of the worst sort. But the thirdnight he had done something really stupid. He had snorted up a few lines ofPeruvian flake and had picked up Breeze's whore, took her back to the room andlaid the coals to her, all the while hoping Breeze would jump him so that he couldbeat him to death with his bare hands. The chick was hot but that had been reallyfucking dumb. Gotta be more professional. Warrior fanned through some still photos in the gym bag. There he was gettingreamed, steamed, and dry cleaned in bright Kodak color. He stuck that packet inhis pocket, no need to let the brass see those, and continued searching theapartment. In a wooden cigar box on top of the television was an ounce of some potthat smelled like it came right out of the personal stash of the King of Thailand,or whatever it was called now. That also went into his pocket, but he took asingle joint that was in the box and fired it up as he continued his search. He wandered into the bathroom as he puffed away. Boy, was this some sweet tastingbud. The buzz was coming on fast and strong. Warrior grabbed the top of the toilettank and lifted it up. Bingo! Floating inside the tank was a shitpot of cashinside a couple of zip lock bags. He pulled the cash out of the bags, in typicalByrd style it was broken up in twenties, fifties, and hundreds. The hundreds hefit into his pocket and the rest went into the gym bag. Warrior finished the jointand dropped it sizzling into the bowl. A quick check of the window showed Mr.Breeze still in front of the bar. He gave a thought about burning another doobiewhile he waited for the pimp to come home but decided against it, remembering hisboneheaded move from the night before. He opened up a closet door in the minikitchen and saw a long object wrapped in a beach towel stuck behind some brooms
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