I had my suspicions. People were coming and going at all hours of the night. There would be periodic yelling and screaming. The cheerful kind. Then there would be foot-traffic up and down the common stairs out onto the sidewalk at three or four in the morning. I thought he was a loan shark, but it turns out they were card games. He ran them out of his place for a living. Made it real easy for the clientele to find him - the one with the red door.
He'd painted it against the landlord's wishes and to this day had not suffered any repercussions. I can't even get permission for my girlfriend to own a chihuahua in the place, and it seems that this guy gets to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. If it sounds like it bothered me, it did. But I had other things on my mind, and on this particular night, I had been up for the past three days straight, covering the mayoral elections for Live magazine.
They had a live stream component for the debates and the town halls. Who did they ask to cover it? The only person who knew how to operate a camera, that's who. Yours truly was tasked with discovering how to broadcast to a live audience on social media with a shoestring budget using an iPhone. I looked ridiculous next to C-SPAN, FOX, and NBC Local. But like a good little soldier, I did it for the promise of a bonus and an extra week's vacation.
After being up for seventy-two hours, it was time to rest my weary head. But he had other ideas. I didn't know it at the time but it turns out some of his games were leading up to a jackpot tournament, and this was the night. A hundred and fifty thousand in the pot. Five players. No buy-in, as they had earned the right to sit at the table thanks to their previous participation. No time limit either. The games would go as long as they had to until the last of the money was won. By the time I made it to my pillow, they were already seven hours in.
When a particular player won a hand, the place erupted. The noise reverberated through the walls and into my ear canal. Jolting me out of my slumber whenever I touched the surface of the unconscious. I'd never set foot in his place before but the proximity of the noise made it obvious that he had placed the players' table against the wall to my bedroom. But regardless of this, the noise carried through to every room in the house. I tried the couch, the floor of the living room, the bench of the kitchen. With every scream of a victory, my eyes popped open like the cork of a champagne bottle.
Banging on the big red door at eleven pm, no one made any effort to come to the front door. I figured they were all visitors. It wasn't their job to welcome passersby. He was probably too busy keeping an eye on the pot to come to the front door and investigate. My pleas for attention were ignored no matter how loud I pounded. I stepped back from the door and had a look up at the window from below. It was glistening in the dimly lit downlights. Wafts of smoke circled the glass, begging to be set free. It looked dark and dank. I pounded the red door some more to no avail. Then I decided to seek relief by force. I looked around the sidewalk and spotted a section of concrete that had been chipped away from the larger curb. It was small, pebble-sized. Too small to make an impact. But I rustled the position where I had found it and a larger section of the road chipped off and into the palm of my hand. Large and heavy. The rain must've softened it enough for me to snap it off. It would make a serious dent. It could break a window, easily.
I looked up briefly and lobbed it as hard as I could into the window, ending the game as the glass sprayed all over the insides and an eruption of profanities caused two to three onlookers to leer down at me from above.
"The fuck you think you're doing?!" one yelled.
"Can you shut the fuck up?!" I yelled back. "I can't get no sleep!"
"You want to sleep, I'll put you to sleep,"
and with that the window went silent as those who were looking down on me left it to take the stairs and continue the confrontation in person.
He exited first, I recognised him from our brief interactions in the hall when we'd collect our mail, or passing one another on a Sunday at the garbage collection. He looked meaner. Wearing a dark suit, no tie and an open collared shirt.
"What's your problem my man?" he asked, as if it wasn't obvious.
"Look, you play these games all the time and you know me, I never say anything. I just need tonight... I need... I need you to just shut the fuck up and let me sleep, okay? I've been up for three days and I need sleep,"
I thought I was being friendly and kind. Like a good neighbour. His demeanour changed. He looked as if he might welcome my request.
"I tell you what," he said. He was removing his jacket. By this time, the players of the game had all joined us on the sidewalk and were surrounding me, making a horseshoe around him as their leader.
"If you can put me down, I'll put an end to the game," he said. He began rolling up his sleeves. My heart sank. This is exactly what I didn't want.
"Come on, you've broken my window. So you owe me for that. You put me down, I'll pay you three hundred dollars, right now and we can forget about the window. Plus! The game is over. You get your good night's sleep," he said. He turned to the others who laughed with him. They must have been used to these types of dealings, they began to relax as if a show on Broadway was about to raise its curtain and entertain them.
"Are you nuts?" I asked. He started bouncing around with his fists raised. I guess he was nuts and he was serious too. He began with a slap to my face, and that's when I knew that the time for talking was over and that I was going to have to comply with his ridiculous request. The passage to my blue door was blocked by one of the players, fighting was my only escape. He slapped me across the other cheek. Hard.
"Come on mother fucker!" he yelled. Aggressively aggressive would be the only way I could describe him at such a late hour. He was willing to punch on without a moment's notice. I had no experience of such overly aggressive behaviour before. It was almost pre-teen.
I raised my fists.
"There you go!" he said, taking another swing. I managed to swivel my head in time. Not sure how I even accomplished that. Most of my actions having been set in motion thanks to instinct. Mine appeared to be razor sharp. Maybe I'll survive this, I thought. Maybe he'll see that I was willing to have a spar and he will respect my efforts and call an end to this charade and let me go back to my bed. Put my head down on my pillow and just listen to the sounds of their game. They could even cheer louder than before. I didn't mind any more. All of a sudden this sounded like a much more titillating outcome. I wonder if I should suggest it.
Then he whacked me with a closed fist. I couldn't block it in time. It rattled my ears. There was ringing that didn't go away. I shook my head awake to stop myself passing out there on the street, although sleep would have been welcome. I looked up in time to see another fist coming towards my nose. I didn't realise I had moved my own hand to block his, connecting with his nose just before he clipped mine. He was rattled by this and moved backwards, holding his face. I didn't hit hard, but it was enough to put him off his game. He was not watching. I knew this good luck would not strike twice. His legs were spread apart. I had covered enough one-punches in my reporting to know a manslaughter charge was not far away, especially if his head was to hit the concrete. I retracted my right foot and laid it between his legs, rendering him completely useless for the next sixty minutes.
The fight was over, and he would have no head injuries by which my liberty would be removed. I looked at the players who each took a step back. Disappointment lined their faces.
"You heard him fuckos," I announced. "Game is over. Pack up and go home," They continued to hold their heads low as they manoeuvred away from me, allowing a path for my return home.
Before I walked to the blue door, I turned to face him, in the fetal position on the edge of the sidewalk.
"You owe me three hundred bucks," I reminded.
And then I turned and went upstairs to bed. I couldn't sleep, with all the adrenaline. But I smiled all night.
I'm buzzing
I loved this. So great.