CHAPTER 4

It occurred to Seven Sallie that one the three men snorting something in the night club’s restroom had said his name. Then he realized that they were trying to taunt him. He heard words like loudmouth, know it all, and arrogant all mixed with profanity. He felt a sarcastic smile grow onto his face, even though his fingers trembled as he zipped up his fly. The last couple of months he had been getting recognized left and right due to the growing popularity of his podcast, ‘The Seven Sallie Showdown.’ But Seven was polarizing. It seemed he was either loved or hated. These gentlemen in the restroom appeared to be the later. So he stepped away from the urinal and walked briskly toward the door.

“My mama taught me to wash my hands after going to the bathroom,” one of them taunted. “Looks like Seven Sallie’s mom is as filthy as his mouth.”

Seven couldn’t resist. He turned and faced them. “My mom taught me not to pee on my hands.”

Two of the men laughed, but the biggest of the three scowled. Apparently he was the speaker.

“What did you say?” he asked as he took two quick steps and shoved Seven. He thumped hard into the door, and then spun and reached for the handle. The big man put a hand on Seven’s shoulder and spun him back around. He took two fists full of Seven’s black polo shirt and slammed him into the door.

“You better take that back and I mean now,” the bully said as he pressed Seven so hard against the door that he thought he might bust through it.

But Seven grinned. Not because he was a fighter nor because two martinis and three beers had given him liquid courage. His smirk was because he recalled one of the self-defense moves his cousin Brock had taught him years ago that was perfect for this situation. He quickly lifted his left arm up and over the top of the bully’s two arms. Grasping the bully’s left wrist he pivoted to his left, jerking the bully off balance and toward him as his right elbow smashed into the bully’s nose. There was a sharp crack that seemed to echo and the bully’s hands went to his face.

“My nose, my nose!” he bellowed. “You broke my nose.”

“Actually, your injured nose is your own fault,” Seven replied as he casually smoothed wrinkles from his shirt. “After all, who attacked whom?”

“Whom?” The two men with intact noses said as they looked dumbly at each other and then at their moaning friend. Seven then left post haste.

Rumors of the altercation only added to the buzz around Seven Sallie and his controversial show. At first Seven worried about an assault charge. Then he realized it would only add to his notoriety and he actually hoped for one. What he received instead was his first death threat. He assumed it was probably the guy he had an altercation with. Then he got a second and a third, all three of a different type, but with the same conclusion. Seven’s demise.

He told his manager. His manager told the cops. The cops told him they would look into it and to be careful. He told his twin brother Six.

“Call Brock,” Six suggested.

Seven winced. “I can’t call Brock.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t like you and I’m your brother.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Six laughed. “Come on man, I’m kidding. I like ya. Sort of.”

“Nobody likes me.”

“You like you.”

“That’s true,” Seven replied, his voice a little more optimistic.

“Listen Sev, Brock was a professional bodyguard. If anything he can probably give you some solid advice.”

“What do you mean was? I thought he is a bodyguard.”

“No man, he retired that. He lives on a hobby farm in Iowa.”

“Retired? He’s only in his mid-thirties.”

“I don’t know dude, he must have made good coin. Plus he married that former porn chick. She was kinda famous so she probably made some serious bucks as well.”

“Wait, what? He married that mean cop chick? And she got into porn?”

“Oh man, you two really don’t like each other do you? How long has it been since you talked to Brock?”

“Well, do you remember when I mouthed off to those four drunk rednecks at Grant Gordan’s  bachelor party?”

“It’s hard to keep track of everyone you’ve mouthed off to, but ya, that was a unique one. We would have got our behinds handed to us if Brock hadn’t have been there. Those were some bad boys.”

“Yeah I know,” Seven Sallie sighed. “Afterwards, Brock chewed me up one side and down the other. He even clutched my jaw so hard I thought he might break it, and he told me he was tired of bailing my mouth out of trouble. He said next time he was gonna, as you put it, let me get my behind handed to me. Well, my pride was hurt. The next couple times we were around each other I gave him the silent treatment. He gave it back. We haven’t really spoken much since.”

Six laughed. “You’re gonna honestly tell me Brock gave you the silent treatment? Part of Brock’s mystique is that he never said much.”

“I wonder if that was what made him so menacing?”

“I’m sure it added to it. What made him truly menacing was being built like an NFL linebacker by the time he was eighteen and knowing how to fight on top of it. Look, just call him. Trust me, he’d be glad to hear from ya. He’ll be glad to help. We’re not young idiots anymore. Well, you might still be an idiot though.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“So do you.”

“I know that I’m funny.”

“Sure you do. Listen, call him.”

“Six! Do you know how many times I got Brock into altercations?”

“No.”

“Exactly. It was more times than we can remember. Listen, I don’t blame him for getting fed up with me.”

“But that was a long time ago, we’ve matured.”

“Have we? Brock married a porn star, you run a gothic funeral parlor, and I shoot of my mouth for a living.”

“But…”

“Another thing,” Seven interrupted. “In the past I irritated a few people at time. Now I tick off hundreds at a time.”

“Thousands.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Maybe millions.”

“Come on, some people like me.”

“Not really.”

“I said some.”

“But most don’t.”

“Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re right. Don’t you see why Brock wouldn’t want to get involved?”

“Hey, I got an idea. When Brock lived in Miami he shared a house with this dude he worked with at that security agency. I got know him pretty well. He actually specialized in espionage type stuff rather than muscle. He lives in Chicago now and works privately. He’d be even better than Brock at identifying how serious these threats are. Trust me he’s good.”

“I believe you. As often as you went to Miami and stayed with Brock I almost thought Miami was your residence.”

“It might have become my residence if I hadn’t met Charlotte.”

“Brother, that is true love. Passing up the beaches of Miami for the blizzards of Minnesota.”

“So, do you want me to call Benito?”

“Benito?”

“Yeah, Benito Bonnano, the guy Brock used to work with.”

“I’m getting death threats and you want to help me with someone called Benito Bonnano?”

“Well, he goes by Tito.”

“Wait a minute. I know the name Bonnano. I thought it was Bentley.”

“Yeah, Bentley would be Tito’s brother. He got killed helping Brock save some chick from a satanic cult about a year ago.”

This sobered Seven and he paused for several seconds before saying, “Go ahead and call Tito.”