It was getting toward the end of October and I had some unfinished business in Miami. I was not expecting a cake-walk, but then, in this game, nothing ever is. There was definitely going to be some hot action.
Buzz had warned me to be on the lookout for trouble but I said, "What’s to worry, hurricane season is almost over." He smiled, shook his head and said, "You know what I mean."
This scene had been brewing for at least a couple of years now. I had taken some stiff’s favorite girl to the big dance, the one representing all the syndicates from the Coastal and Atlantic. It seems the Miami thugs have had it in for me ever since.
How did I know there was a Hector in Miami who would take this thing personal? Or was it Julio? I forget. They are nothing to me. Ever since their empire crumbled they have acted like they have short-man’s complex.
Sure, I’ve been roughed up in the past but this ain’t tiddlywinks. If you are going to challenge some serious Miami muscle you’ve got to expect a few bruises along the way. Perhaps I rubbed some sea salt in a sensitive spot with these goons. Yea, I cleaned their clocks in front of a lot of people a while back. Frankly I don’t think anyone had seen them taken down in such an unexpected way. Yea, I ran over the slobs. I admit it. It felt good.
Well, like I said, this has been brewing for a couple of years or more. How’s it going to end? Well, right now I’m just smelling the salt air, feeling a tropical breeze, spinning some Tito Puente.
Don’t misunderstand. I know these guys hit below the belt. They’ve had heavy reps for a long time. But somewhere right now an iguana is basking in the sun while palm fronds rustle in the wind. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Like I said, hurricane season is almost over. It’s payback time.