Our Lady of Sorrows: Distenigration

 

     After the meeting, I had to meet up with Lee's niece Kiki who was visiting from Canada for the summer. I had to meet up with her in order to transfer the intel I received from meeting with Jesus, in case our phones were tapped or I was being followed. Thirty minutes after that meeting, I received a call from an unknown caller. I answered to put the phone to my ear but didn't say hello. However the caller told me to meet up with "The Mistress" at nine P.M. At her nightclub in Wynwood. I notified Ethan's family through payphone and was given the okay to proceed with the interaction.

8:30 P.M., Wynwood:

    I arrive at Elizabeth's club thirty minutes early. I like the vibe of the club. It has a futuristic decor, rather like an upscale near futuristic rave. As I got inside, I'm approached by four armed security guards. One begins to frisk me before I went any further inside. As usual, I'm clean of any guns, blades or ammunition. I ask to see the owner in terms of a business meeting in twenty-five minutes. One of the security guards calls someone by the name of Felix on a walkie-talkie to come and get me. Two minutes later, a Hispanic male in his late twenties walks up to me asking for my I.D.

    "Let me see your I.D", says Felix.

    I show Felix my I.D. for him to examine. I stare him down as he scans my I.D. He then hands it back to me and shakes my hand. "You're one cold m**********r. Come on, follow me." says Felix. As I walk through the club I get to see the full view of the club. Green and yellow strobe lights, three bars, three foot screens on every corner of the club with visual projections, and three stories of dance floors. Playing mainly EDM and House music from all over the world. Me and Felix get into a brief conversation while heading to Elizabeth's office.

    "You know you were thirty minutes early right?" ask Felix.

    "I'm well aware." I reply.

    "You kinda' caught the mistress in a bad moment."

    "Then I'll wait til' she's done."

    "Bro she already knows you're here and honestly, she's playing a mind game with you right now."

    "Meaning?

    "You leave, you'll be viewed as weak and dead by midnight; since you already spoke to her hubby."

    "I'm here for business not childish games. I'll see her when she's finished.

    "Oookay bro. But you might get chewed out and regurgitated." We're now in front of her office on the fourth floor. We hear screaming outside of the office, as if there's a violent argument happening.

     "YOU SEE THIS IS WHY MALALAI WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! You're so f*****g racist I'M SURPRISED YOU WATCH COLOR T.V!" yelled Elizabeth's daughter.

    "Your sister is named Maria! Stop calling her by that ugly slummy name!" demands Elizabeth.

    "Slummy?! Oh my god you see what I mean-"

    "I don't give a f**k what that Algerian s**t thinks of me! Litttle girl, do you really think I'm threaten by the likes of you little s***s?! I mean what the f**k I say. If I catch you near those f*****g coons, I'll f**k you up just like I did to Maria in the mall!"  Elizabeth responds viscously.

    "WHAT?! THEY'RE MY BEST FRIENDS! THEY'RE FAMILY MAKES US FEEL LOVED MORE THAN YOU EVER DID THROUGH OUT MY YEARS BREATHING!"

    "Disobey me by chilling with those uncle toms again and I'll cut your throat b***h!"

    "AND THAT'S WHY MALALAI IS SCARED OF YOU AND WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!"

    "WHERE THE F**K YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!"

    "AWAY FROM YOU!"

    Suddenly we hear loud slap and the violent screaming between mother and daughter. "GET OVER HERE C**T! I'MA' F**K YOU UP! STAY AWAY FROM THOSE F*****G N*****S!" Elizabeth ferociously screams.

    Suddenly Elizabeth's daughter storms out the office with her hair roughed up, a black eye and a swollen hand print on the right side of her face.

    "GET THE F**K BACK HERE- s**t!", Elizabeth quickly turns to Felix, "where the f**k is Abner [she now turns violently to me] and who the f**k is this prick?!"

    "Jorge Goldwasser. Pleasure to be of your acquaintance." I answer sarcastically.

     "You're damn near twenty minutes early."

    "Sorry, I'm a Virgo." I reply.

    "I'm a Scorpio and you're f*****g early!" she violently turns to Felix. "AND WHY THE F**K HAVEN'T YOU GOT ABNER YET?! My daughter ran away to her best friend's house."

    Felix proceeds to call in Abner.

     "Come on inside. Let's go." Elizabeth says out of frustration.

    We proceeded into the soulless c**t's office. I sat down and she sits by her desk in front of me, while Felix stands by the door

     "Ugh. Please excuse me for that. My birth child is being negatively influenced by a rebellious sand n****r I adopted a while back." she then looks to her desk and facepalm's out of frustration. She then looks at me with disappointment. "The f**k's this country coming to?! A bunch of nappy headed f***s polluting our f*****g bloodline shooting those curly hair freaks in the world. Spoiling good genetics."

     "I'm sure Jesus shares the same views."I told her sarcastically.

   "Pfft! Not really. He usually befriends them just for votes and un-f**k-with-able public relations. It's a very genius political strategy which him and Mendoza has been using for years. Pretend to love all ethnic backgrounds just to get their votes. But I at least love him for thinking n*****s shouldn't breed. The only good n****r is a dead one. Period, case f*****g closed. And now my only daughter wants to disobey me for these undesirable freaks of nature who don't even love themselves."

    Thankfully a loud knock on the office door interrupted the c**t's barbarically ignorant rant.

   "Abner?!"
    "Missy?"
  "Come in."
    Abner enters the room. "Hey Missy, is everything okay?" inquires Abner.
     "No, everything is not o-f*****g-kay!" Exclaims Elizabeth. I turn my head to the door to look at Abner talking to Elizabeth. I happen to know this son of a b***h. Oh how funny life is.

    "Hey wait a minute..." says Abner as his eyes lock on mine. His face slightly cringes in disgust and hatred. Simultaneously I instantly had the same reaction.

    "Yo, what high school you went to?" Ask Abner.

    "Edward Crowley High. You?" I ask.

    "Same." He then smiles and shakes his head up and down sinisterly "I know you.. Jorge right?"

    "Hello-"Alvah." I responded coldly.

    He smiles "What you doing up in the belly Jorge? I thought you had the goal of spreading your a*s cheeks for big "pharma"?" He says to me with sarcastic joy.

    "None of your f*****g business prick." I said snapping on him.

    Abner Koenig. His government name is actually Alvah Qayin. We grew up in the same orphanage together along with Vivian. Born January 20, 1985; in San Antonio Texas to dope running Israeli parents for the Leon Colombian cartel during the 1970's and 1980's. His parents were shot dead on his fifth birthday by an unknown assailant. It's rumored to be done by Cuban assassins apart of the Cuban cocaine trade. That's when we first met. As a child he was very mischievous and violent, but always got away with it due to his ability to fool people with his emotions. At the age of ten he beat up Vivian for not sharing her apple juice with him. The beating was so bad he ended up cracking three of her ribs. I had to intervene at the time and ended up breaking his arm against a tree on the playground. Ever since, we’ve despised each other.

    Months later, he was arrested for stealing and totaling a cop car. That’s when he went to jail for the first time at the age of ten. The orphanage was so disgusted by his erratic behavior, they sent him off to be adopted by meth dealing junkie trailer trash. Since his parents died in Florida and that was the location the orphanage was; me as well as Vivian all coincidentally went to the same elementary, middle and high school together. What’s weird is we both have a love for chemistry and science. However he more cared about making chemicals to harm the body rather than to cure it. His adopted parents taught him how to make heroin and meth at the age of twelve and he was the school’s pusher. He dated Vivian back in seventh grade and was the one who turned Vivian out into drugs, starting with ecstasy. He’s the reason Vivian turned into a drug addict. Freshman year he went to jail for about three years for drugging our teacher, the head of the schools chemistry club with a chemical known as "Devil’s breath" or by its scientific name "Scopolamine Hydrobromide". This drug literally turns the consumer into a willing zombie and Alvah used this on him to turn him into his personal sex slave for a month. This very day I still question how this psycho got a hold of a drug only found in the forest of Colombia at such a young age. Maybe he made it himself. Who knows with this freak, he’s a lot smarter than most people think.

    After that, I haven’t heard about Alvah until this very moment. The fact that my new possible distributor is working with the very man who turned my love into a junkie makes me want to hogtie everyone in this room and force feed them my drug. Being around Alvah is nearly the equivalent to being in the same room of the man who murdered Vivian.

    "You two know each other?"

    "Yeah- we literally went to the same synagogue for ten years with this Russian son of a b***h." states Alvah, mocking me out of sarcastic hatred.

    Elizabeth turns to me and ask "You’re a commie?"

    "Just because I have Russian ancestry doesn’t mean I believe in the concept of communism." I replied immediately.

    "Missy you trust this Russian piece of s**t working for you-"

    Elizabeth immediately cuts off Alvah "Shut your f*****g mouth right the f**k now! Whatever history you two f*****s got has nothing to do with this meeting and why you were called in here." Snaps Elizabeth.

    "But missy he’s a f*****g red!" responds Alvah.

    "And you’re a f*****g liar! ALVAH?! THAT’S YOUR NAME?!" Elizabeth then tries to calm herself down and takes a deep stress filled breath. "Look, I called you in here for ONE reason and none of them had anything to do with this meeting. Understood?

    "Yes ma’am." responds Alvah embarrassed.

    "Good. Now I called your sorry a*s in here to tend to my daughter."

   "Maria?" ask Alvah.

    "No, Alice. She stormed out the room cause I banned her from her n****r friends. Now I want my daughter back in one piece here." Says Elizabeth.

    "Sure where is she" inquires Alvah.

    "Down by state road 84. Retrieve her and exterminate those f****n’ darkies. Alice’s actions are causing my father to do quadruple back flips in his f*****g grave." Says Elizabeth out of anger.

    "How do you want it done?" Inquires Alvah.

    "What part of exterminated do you not comprehend?!" Says Elizabeth.

     "I’ll have her back by midnight." Answers Alvah.

    "No. I don’t want her back by midnight, I don’t want her back on Chanukah-I want her back right the f**k now! By the time I’m done with this meeting I better get a call from you saying you’re on your way back with her! I don’t give a f**k if you have to do ninety-five in a residential. I need her back now! And I want you to keep her eyes open to show her the consequences of n*****s befriending good people. AM I UNDERSTOOD?!" says Elizabeth in a fit of controlled anger.

    "Yes ma’am." Retorts Alvah.

    "Good, now get the f**k out of my face and stop worrying about my economic affairs. That’s not what I f****n’ pay you for."

    Alvah proceeds to look at me in disgust. Then he looks back at Elizabeth.

   "All I’m saying Missy is-"
    Elizabeth cuts off Alvah angrily "All I’m saying is get my daughter away from those f*****g n*****s!"

    Alvah looks at me again. This time in embarrassment. He then points at me.

    "Just watch your a*s with this f****n’ commie." Says Alvah, trying to control his anger.

    I then turn to Alvah. "You heard your boss. "A-B" conversation. Why don’t you "C" your way out?" I then proceed to tilt my head forty-five degrees and give him a smirk.

    Alvah looks at me with hatred, kisses his teeth and walks out the room; slamming the door.

    "The f*****g nerve of that Jew. Asking me all these f*****g questions, telling me what to do- who the f**k does he think he is?!" ask Elizabeth out of frustrated annoyance.

    "God." I utter sarcastically.

    "HA! GOD?! This Satanism s**t is really getting to his f*****g head! In this city there’s only room for a f*****g goddess. Any that stands in this goddess’s way will be strike down by my wrath." Says Elizabeth. She proceeds to drink from a water bottle with a thick red liquid in it. " I heard so much about your product but I know very little about you. The fact you’re a Russian Jew alarms me."

    "A Russian adopted by Jews. I don’t see why my ancestry has anything to do with business Ms.Milano." I respond, grinding my teeth to her ignorance.

    "You see the problem is depending on your reaction towards our business deal."

     "Shall we get started then?" I reply in annoyance. "Felix you know what to do."
Felix then walks out the room to leave me and Elizabeth to talk in private. The Mistress then follow up on my response with a smile. But a dark, demented smile. All I see in her eyes is pure evil. All the innocent lives she’s taken for the sake of her own insecurities and fear.

    "Is it true you know Russian?" she ask me.

    "Yes but I don’t know any Russians." I respond.

     "How’s your fluency?"

    "Russian was my first language growing up. I also speak Hebrew and Spanish as well."

    "And you were adopted by Jews?"

    "The Goldwasser’s."

   "Oh really?" she inquires coldly.

    "Yes but I cut them off years ago. A bunch of blue collar snobs."

    "And let’s say if I were to hire a few hits?"

    "On?" I ask.

     She looks me in the eyes. "Your family."

     "I could give a f**k less about those pricks." I told her. I know the b***h is testing me. She knows she can’t take out the Goldwasser’s without getting fucked by all of Ethan’s associates and his family.

    "Wow. I like you. You’re truly one cold son of a b***h. I don’t give a f**k about your family Jorge. It would be a waste of time and resources doing something rather irrational. What I do give a f**k about is you being false opposition for the Russians." She says with aggressive paranoia.

    "Now let me ask you a question Ms.Milano. Has anyone in your camp taken my drug?" I ask.

   "No." she says.

   "But did the Russians?"

    "A good amount. Yes.

    "Now you’ve laid your own fears to rest. If you want those Russians out your hair, you’re looking at the perfect candidate for the operation."

    Elizabeth proceeds to drink from her water bottle and starts chewing on her fingernails on her left hand. When she’s done, she proceeds to look me in the eyes again. "What’s your story?"

    "Why does it matter?"

     "Research."

    "My fiancé died from my own product and I’m a man with nothing to lose." I answer her coldly.

    Oh please. You’re just a scared little boy who lacks direction." She responds, shrugging off my comment.

    "And you’re a disrespectful grown woman!" I said snapping on her.

    She then snaps on me feeling disrespected "EXCUSE ME?!"

    I finally lost my f*****g patience "YOU'RE F*****G DISRESPECTFUL!"

    Elizabeth goes into her drawer and pulls out a .45 caliber chrome desert eagle. She then violently sticks the barrel in between my eyes. "I don’t think I heard you properly. Mind reiterating your statement?"

    "YOU’RE F*****G DISRESPECTFUL AND YOUR PISTOL DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A MAGAZINE IN IT-PULL THE TRIGGER B***H!!" I respond snapping out of rage.

    Elizabeth immediately pulls the trigger after my comment. Turns out the chamber is empty as well.
    "Wow. You know…I really like you now. You didn’t even flinch." She then drops her pistol on her desk. "If I was twenty-five years younger and you weren’t a Jew, I’d date you."

    "Good thing you’re not." I sarcastically told her. This time I made my sarcasm very obvious.

    "Let’s get something straight here pal-when we do business you work for me!" she states, trying to intimidate me.

    I proceed to cut her off. "No-no-no. HA! Listen, I spoke to your "Husband" and he said if you were to give me any s**t for me to give him a call. But I’m a big boy. I don’t have to take any s**t from anyone nor from the likes of you. No one is my f****n’ boss, get THAT straight. You better f*****g check yourself right the f**k now-"

    She then cuts me off "NO- ACTUALLY YOU NEED-"

    I cut her off again "No you need ME! Without me your very organization is poopoo! I’m the only m**********r on the market with my product and the only one you can trust to deal with the Russians. I sell my s**t MYSELF and it’s one of few poisons that’s completely undetectable. I came here for business only. Not to be a slave, not as a guinea pig for your mind games and certainly not to sit here and take your f****n’ disrespect! Hell I don’t even have to be here right now. I can just take my business elsewhere and go to the Russian’s myself and watch your organization crumble from the very ignorance and disrespect you’ve presented me with since I’ve been here. Don’t f**k with me."

    Elizabeth then cracks the knuckles of her left hand using her thumb, out of discomfort and anxiety.

    "So think about what I told you before you open your f****n’ pie-hole." I utter, looking her in the eyes with anger. She then takes a deep, stressful breath.

    She needs me. I know it, she knows it, Jesus/Henry knows it. If she f***s this meeting up, she knows she can’t afford to turn me off.

    "I apologize for my irrational behavior Jorge. This whole thing with my daughter is fogging my judgment." She apologizes feeling embarrassed. 

     "Then fan that fog out of here. I’m here only for business. I didn’t come here to waste my f*****g time and get disrespected by the likes of YOU just because of my heritage and your anxiety. GOT IT?!" I retort aggressively. This c**t makes my blood boil.

     "I’m sorry. Look uh…okay. Let’s-let’s just go back to why you came here in the first place. I was told you can produce tons in a short amount of time. I want to know how that way I can trust you and put my paranoia to rest."

    I respond "I funded it with my family’s money."

    "They know of your operations?" she ask.

    "No but I asked for a loan I recently paid back."

   "And the retail price?"

   "One-hundred a "G"."

    The witch’s face lights up in excitement. "Well s**t Jorge. I didn’t know it was that expensive."

    "It’s just business. I’m not a f*****g social worker."

    "A business I desire to be a part of! How long does it usually take you to produce the s**t?"

    "One ton, weekly."

    "And you work alone?"

    "Yes. I f****n’ hate people."

    Elizabeth smiles again. "What’s my cut?"

   "Forty percent." I respond.

    Her eyes nearly pop out her skull in shock. "Holy s**t! Okay."

    "I came to you because Jesus implied you have a market for the elite."

    "I do but only narcotics like cocaine, heroin and MDMA. But this s**t is on a whole other level Jorge. You’re nearly talking arms dealing. But I have a lot of targets, clubs and, assassins who could use such pharmaceuticals."

    "All I ask of you is to respect my policy at all times. If not, we’re f****n’ through."

    "And your policy consist of?" she inquires.

    "Market to nobody under the age of 25 with an income lower than $500,000 annual income. And I’m dead f*****g serious. High profile clients only."

    She sighs. "Fine, you have a deal."

    "Good. Now in this case, I have a right to know who your distributors are."

    "Alvah and Felix. That’s all we have right now in terms of dope runners. I like my operations to be lite." she says.
    I proceed to snap "Alvah?! I’m not trusting that f*****g psycho to distribute my s**t! He WILL immediately violate my policy."

    "How? He’s been nothing but loyal to me." she ask, confused.

    "Here’s some advice from an Israeli like myself. Never trust anyone name Alvah."

    "I don’t see why not?"

    "Google the meaning of his first name, then get back to me. A-L-V-A-H. That’s how you spell it."

    "UGH-then the f**k you want me to do about it?! I’m not losing money just because you wanna’ play self-righteous."

    "F**k this. I’ll distribute the s**t myself. You just make some calls and give me a list of potential customers."

    "Don’t you have a life or career you care about Jorge? You can’t just sell all this s**t by yourself!"

    I respond to her ruthlessly "Watch me."

     "Oh so you think selling drugs to elite networks of criminals is a walk in the park huh?! Okay, fine. Let me give you a f*****g wakeup call, since I personally believe you’re biting off WAY MORE than you can chew. I want two tons of your s**t sold to a list of one-hundred interested consumers. If I don’t have my forty percent by the end of the month, I’ll have Alvah cut your f*****g c**k off and force feed it to your parents. Do we have a deal?"

    I look her in her eyes and put my hand out for her to shake. She then shakes it firmly.

    "We have a deal." I told her.

     "When can we get started?" she asks me.

    "Now." I respond.

    "Okay, before you go. I want to make things perfectly clear. I’ll follow your policy but just know that I’M the boss. Not Jesus. Any questions you have, they go to me. Not Felix, Not Alvah, not the Russians. Me. I’m your link, not Jesus."

    "Okay."

    We concluded our meeting at around 9:15 P.M. I walked through the rave on the first floor and happen to bump into Alice looking traumatized; being held by Alvah, who’s drenched in blood. We stop in front of each other as the song "Cruel Summer" by Bananarama starts playing.

    "I got my eyes on you Jorge." says Alvah, attempting to antagonize me.

    "Keep on looking and I’ll f****n’ blind you." I respond to him coldheartedly.

     Alvah then pulls Alice away and heads upstairs towards Elizabeth’s office. The look on Alice’s face. That poor child. I can see her fear and anxiety being around that creep. I wish I could help her escape all this, but I unfortunately have to stick to business and not make this personal.

     I arrive home at around 10:20 P.M. I felt like doing nothing but sleeping. I just feel so hollow and empty just living everyday waiting to die. Vivian was the only one who made me feel like my life had meaning. Helping people to cure their mental aliments. Everything I did, she encourage me to do better. Even when I was going through a period of self-destruction in my early years of high school, she was the only one there for me. I was there for her. She encouraged me not to end my life, while I helped her kick her addiction without the need of subjecting her to rehab or using prescription medication. I mean, I was alone all my life besides all the times I’ve spent with her. Another thing that kills me inside every waking moment is me not knowing who my real parents were. If they were good people making an honest living or narcissistic scumbag's like my adopted parents? If I was meant to be or an accident in the heat of the moment? Twenty-five years later, these questions are still left unanswered. All these thoughts eat me alive as I sleep in the same house my fiancé died in. Lying in bed with the scent of her strawberry-kiwi conditioner still in my pillow. No matter how much I wash my sheets, her scent still lingers in my bed. I feel worthless and futile without her. This goddamn silence kills me every night before I close my eyes.

     At least I can see her in my dreams. Every night I have these reoccurring visions of her. Her holding my hand, walking me into an ocean. Walking until we break through the sandbars and the waves submerging us. Just idle underwater looking at each other, smiling. Being surrounded by a school of tiger sharks as the water begins to turn crimson. Our skin would then begin to slowly deteriorate. She cries blood while joyfully caressing my face. I would then say her name. "Vivian." The seabed would then have a blinding burst of white light, similar to a nuclear fallout. She would then passionately kiss my lips and say "I’ll always be with you. No matter what." Our bodies then proceed to disintegrate from the bright burst of energy from the seabed and I’d wakeup the next morning in a pool of sweat, holding on to the bed sheets as if it were her. The same dream every night since 2008.

Reviews

[JayG]

Far too much reporting, and far too little of making the reader live the story. Why does your protagonist say and do things? We don't know, because they don't do any of the things real people do in a situation like the ones portrayed. Your characters don't stop to think, rephrase, react to what's said, or do anything but lob dialog back and forth unemotionally. They don't cross their arms, rub their chin in thought, etc. They simply read the lines you give them.

Can that seem real to a reader?

You're also misusing tags. When you say:
- - - - -
"When can we get started?" she asks me.
- - - - -
We know it's a question because the line ends in a question mark. We also know who spoke because it's her turn. So why tell the reader what they already know?

The short version:

Writing fiction for the page uses a very different skill-set from what we're given in our school days. Those techniques are designed for business, and their goal is to inform. And because you're using them the story reads too much like a report.

But fiction's goal is to entertain by giving the reader an emotional experience. In horror, for example, the goal isn't to make the reader know the protagonist is terrified, it's to terrify the reader. And we can't do that with a series of, "This happened...then that happened...and after that..."

So taking a bit of time to pick up some tricks of the trade would be time well spent. And the best place to begin would be the fiction writing section of the local library.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/