Chapter 26. The Twilight of the Soul (pt.1) The Crew

I sized up Ted, thinking he might be my ticket out of the park. His hair was light colored and balding, even though he was about my age. He had the kind of body that belonged on a Harley and looked awkward anywhere else. There were two others hanging behind him. One was thin, tall, with dark curly brown hair while the other was shorter but with blond hair and looked a kid. It was obvious that Ted was going to do the negotiating and that the others were simply with him. Stan introduced the tall one first, “This is Danny and this one’s Kenny. They’re Ted’s brothers.”

“You sure?” I asked,just to see if I could get a laugh. Hell,I’d have even settled for a smile, I said, “Y’all don’t look like you came from the same egg.”

Danny spat out his chew and dead-panned, “Well, step-brothers,” .

Ted’s eyes were riveted on me. I was being evaluated but didn’t feel the least bit threatened. In these transactions everyone is sizing up the other… a checklist ran in my head as one did in his. 1. Size… bulk… upper body strength… if he could throw a punch would I be hamburger? Check the yes box on that. 2. How quick/smart is he? Quick… yes, smart, maybe. Naïve but not dumb. 3. Tattoo on his upper arm like a patch I’d seen… skull and crossbones… Swift/Silent/Deadly. Marine Recon. Okay… I wouldn’t try to test him Yes, and forget the list, I’d best respect him.

We moved to a picnic table away from the Stone Soup crowd and sat across from each other. Ted, Kenny and Danny on one side, Stan and I on the other.

Stan was all business, “I can get a key for one-fifty, but the good stuff is one-eighty. You can sell the cheap shit for a dime a lid, but can easily get twenty for the good shit.”

“Slow down. We don’t know anyone in this town,” Ted stated matter-of-fact, “Can you guys help us move it?”

I knew Stan was quick in seizing an opening; however, we didn’t know very many people in town either. Regardless of Ted’s imposing posture, I followed Stan’s bluff and was confident he could pull it off. I assured Ted, “Yep, we can. What brought you guys to Miami?”

Ted spoke in a laid-back drawl, “See here, I sent my girl a plane ticket from Seattle to Miami. She was coming down to get together, we were going to get married, but she called it off.” He reached into his cut-off denim jacket and pulled out an envelope from his inside pocket and slapped it on the table, “She sent me this, Dear - fuckin your neighbor – John, letter. I cashed in the ticket and I’ve got enough to buy a key… Can you move lids easy enough?”

We hadn’t seen that much money since we left for Jamaica. Without sounding too eager, Stan said, “Okay. We can do it for sure. What’s in it for us?”

 “That’s good, if you can do it we can split up the profits between us… equal, ya know.

“But, you gots to trust me with the money. This guy’s gonna MUF me, and I can’t take anyone with me.”

Ted wasn’t looking at Stan. His eyes were still locked on mine, “MUF?”

Stan shrugged.

I told him, “Money up front.”

 He scowled, “You stay here with us.”

Stan left to dig up the key. I thought I’d try to ease the tension with some common ground, “Ted,” I asked, “You were in Nam more than one tour?”

“Does it show?”

“Malaria,” I said, “Just seen enough of from there to recognize a real vet.”

“Yah, sure. Two tours,” he rubbed his hand over his thin and balding head.

“I thought so.” I reached a hand over the table. “Welcome home.”

“Marine Re-con,” he smirked, “and you?”

I was a little embarrassed, but said, “I know your patch. I’m Navy. No big deal… Nothin’ like Re-con,”

We had soup at the Stone Soup table and got to know each other. Ted had just gotten out of the Marine Corps after serving in Vietnam. He was a real ground-pounder and I was nowhere near it… a squid but, we were Vets, and had that much in common. I was right, he was Marine Recon… a bad-assed 1^st Recon, Kane Killer. Kenny and Denny were kids along for the ride with their big brother.

I told them about New Mexico and some of our Jamaica story and how we came back broke. Stan had already told them that much. I filled in the gaps, embellished with exaggerations, about the exotic island and Hoss Bozz for a very uncomfortable hour.

Stan finally showed up approaching us with a wide grin and a grocery bag with celery and carrot tops sticking out of the top. He set it on the table between us.

Ted looked pissed, “Groceries, fuck! I could get my own groceries. What did you do with the money…”

“There’s fucking narcs watchin’ this park all the time. I wasn’t gonna walk in here with a bag looking like it gots a key in it.

“We know what we’re doing,” I assured him. “We need to trust each other. Check us out. That’s okay. But, if we were going to burn you, Stan would’ve never come back.”

“Right on.” Stan said, “It’s all here. This is good shit. You gots someplace where we can put it in baggies

“We have an apartment in Hollywood.”

Back then, Hollywood was a district on the edge of a Black Ghetto and a Cuban Barrio. Ted and his brothers had a small, one-bedroom, with a kitchenette and enough room for a table and couch in the front room. It was in the back of a house off the street.

We spread out newspaper on the floor and separated the stems and broke up, weighed and packed the pot in baggies. Of course, we rolled some joints for ourselves.

After we were done we fired one up and Stan said, “We can sell this shit for twenty a lid.”

“Twenty a lid? Fuck, I’d never pay more than ten… fifteen at the most.”

“Tell me that after takin’ a hit off this,” he passed it to Ted.

By the time the joint circulated between all five of us, Ted exclaimed, “I ain’t had shit this good since Nam. You guys are okay.”

“I told you it was good. My friend knows ‘bout a college professor that’ll pay twenty bucks for good shit like this.”

“Only a fag or a narc would pay that much.” Denny said.

“So, what. He can suck my dick for another twenty.” Ted laughed, “What are we waiting for? Call him.”

 "I can't call him. Don't worry, he'll find us."

This was the beginnings of what we called, The Crew.