Saul Brown, Black Brother in
chief looks at me like I’m crazy.
I am sitting with him in the cat house reception, come lounge, come piano
bar. I have just laid out the
relevant details of the message from The Man.
‘The Man has his turf and The Black
Brothers have ours. That is the arrangement, no line crossing no fights no
deaths. We have Harlem he has the rest. Shit man is not the rest big enough for
him? This is the short end of the straw. First it’s a portion of the meat
industry then the whole fucking grocery store. Tell him no way’
No way am I telling him no way. I
have to get out of this transaction.
‘I’m just passing the message on.
It was just a chance meet at a gig at The Stork.’ I don’t want to get involved,
this is way out of my league.’
He points a
long black finger at me and makes like a gun. Squints down it and bends his
thumb with a clicking noise. I take it he means do it or I’m dead meat. Where
is fucking Doil when you want him
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