On the Grind (2009) by Stephen - Scully 08 Cannell Page A
Authors: Stephen - Scully 08 Cannell
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again. "This shit's gotta stop."
"I'll check with those guys, see what happened."
Armando turned to face me. "You'll do good down here if you don't forget how things work. Alonzo here, sometimes he's got a bad memory." Then he slapped Bell hard on the shoulder. It wasn't a very friendly gesture. "I want that package before I go home. Make it happen."
Then, without saying goodbye, he turned and went through the door behind Mariana, who was studiously at work not looking at Alonzo, pretending not to have heard the humiliating slap-down.
We walked outside and got back into our shop. "That guy's on the Fleetwood City Council, but he needs to chill. He's getting way too full of himself," Bell growled, working off some anger. "Put us ten-eight."
I picked up the mike. "This is Car Nine. We're ten-eight and clear to take calls at El Norte Park in Fleetwood."
The RTO came back. "Roger, Nine, we show you ten-eight and clear in Fleetwood."
I clicked the mike off and looked over at Alonzo. Whatever had transpired at city hall was still chewing on him and he glowered darkly as he drove. We headed back into Haven Park. On the way, we passed a large political billboard with a picture of a Mexican middleweight boxer named Rocky Chacon. He was in a classic fighter's stance with his feet squared, his red gloves up, facing the camera. Under the picture, written in both Spanish and English, it said:
VOTE FOR A CHAMPION ROCKY CHACON FOR HAVEN PARK MAYOR
"What's with that?" I asked Alonzo, jerking my thumb at the sign as we rolled past.
Bell glanced at the billboard and said, "That's a big problem. That's something all of us better do something about, quick."
He drove in silence for a minute. "You heard about him, right? When he was still fighting? Juan "Rocky" Chacon --'El Alboratador.'"
"Alborotador means brawler, right?" Alonzo nodded, so I went on. "Yeah, I remember him. The middleweight champ for about six seconds. He was from some little dirt-street town in Baja."
"He lives here now. Became a U . S . citizen. Runs a little grease - pit taco joint with his mother called Mama's Casita. He's some kind of hero to these beaners 'cause they thought he had higganas in the ring. Now this guy is running for mayor on a reform ticket, and according to the last poll in the Haven Park Courier, he actually has a decent shot at winning."
"I thought Cecil Bratano had it all locked up down here."
"He did, but the thing you gotta realize is most of the shit-sticks in this city are illegals, which means they can't vote. Only a couple a thousand registered voters in all of Haven Park. Doesn't take much to swing an election. Nobody counted on this Rocky Chacon character. He's a reformer pledging to stop all the ticket towing and corruption. All of a sudden he's leading in the polls. One of our jobs is to convince Rocky to either drop out or move out. But he's a gutsy little bastard, and so far he's been hanging tough."
Alonzo put on his blinker and slowed as we turned onto Lincoln Boulevard. Then he took a right onto a side street called Flower Avenue and pulled up across from a small but freshly painted Mexican restaurant. Mama's Casita. There was a lot of city roadwork going on in front of the place. A backhoe had torn up the asphalt and was roaring back and forth, throwing up a cloud of dust while blocking the little parking lot beside the restaurant.
"All that roadwork is us," Alonzo said, smiling. "Mayor Bratano authorized it. Gonna tear out the sidewalk and more of the street next week. This asshole and his mama are gonna be serving their tacos in a big dusty hole. Gonna go broke if he doesn't get the message."
"You think a little dust and noise is gonna run him off?" I asked skeptically.
"Probably not, but we don't stop with that. There's more. Rocky is my little project." He grinned. "Come on, I'll show ya."
He put the car in gear and pulled out. A few blocks away on 58th Street was a strip mall. There was a storefront in the center
"I'll check with those guys, see what happened."
Armando turned to face me. "You'll do good down here if you don't forget how things work. Alonzo here, sometimes he's got a bad memory." Then he slapped Bell hard on the shoulder. It wasn't a very friendly gesture. "I want that package before I go home. Make it happen."
Then, without saying goodbye, he turned and went through the door behind Mariana, who was studiously at work not looking at Alonzo, pretending not to have heard the humiliating slap-down.
We walked outside and got back into our shop. "That guy's on the Fleetwood City Council, but he needs to chill. He's getting way too full of himself," Bell growled, working off some anger. "Put us ten-eight."
I picked up the mike. "This is Car Nine. We're ten-eight and clear to take calls at El Norte Park in Fleetwood."
The RTO came back. "Roger, Nine, we show you ten-eight and clear in Fleetwood."
I clicked the mike off and looked over at Alonzo. Whatever had transpired at city hall was still chewing on him and he glowered darkly as he drove. We headed back into Haven Park. On the way, we passed a large political billboard with a picture of a Mexican middleweight boxer named Rocky Chacon. He was in a classic fighter's stance with his feet squared, his red gloves up, facing the camera. Under the picture, written in both Spanish and English, it said:
VOTE FOR A CHAMPION ROCKY CHACON FOR HAVEN PARK MAYOR
"What's with that?" I asked Alonzo, jerking my thumb at the sign as we rolled past.
Bell glanced at the billboard and said, "That's a big problem. That's something all of us better do something about, quick."
He drove in silence for a minute. "You heard about him, right? When he was still fighting? Juan "Rocky" Chacon --'El Alboratador.'"
"Alborotador means brawler, right?" Alonzo nodded, so I went on. "Yeah, I remember him. The middleweight champ for about six seconds. He was from some little dirt-street town in Baja."
"He lives here now. Became a U . S . citizen. Runs a little grease - pit taco joint with his mother called Mama's Casita. He's some kind of hero to these beaners 'cause they thought he had higganas in the ring. Now this guy is running for mayor on a reform ticket, and according to the last poll in the Haven Park Courier, he actually has a decent shot at winning."
"I thought Cecil Bratano had it all locked up down here."
"He did, but the thing you gotta realize is most of the shit-sticks in this city are illegals, which means they can't vote. Only a couple a thousand registered voters in all of Haven Park. Doesn't take much to swing an election. Nobody counted on this Rocky Chacon character. He's a reformer pledging to stop all the ticket towing and corruption. All of a sudden he's leading in the polls. One of our jobs is to convince Rocky to either drop out or move out. But he's a gutsy little bastard, and so far he's been hanging tough."
Alonzo put on his blinker and slowed as we turned onto Lincoln Boulevard. Then he took a right onto a side street called Flower Avenue and pulled up across from a small but freshly painted Mexican restaurant. Mama's Casita. There was a lot of city roadwork going on in front of the place. A backhoe had torn up the asphalt and was roaring back and forth, throwing up a cloud of dust while blocking the little parking lot beside the restaurant.
"All that roadwork is us," Alonzo said, smiling. "Mayor Bratano authorized it. Gonna tear out the sidewalk and more of the street next week. This asshole and his mama are gonna be serving their tacos in a big dusty hole. Gonna go broke if he doesn't get the message."
"You think a little dust and noise is gonna run him off?" I asked skeptically.
"Probably not, but we don't stop with that. There's more. Rocky is my little project." He grinned. "Come on, I'll show ya."
He put the car in gear and pulled out. A few blocks away on 58th Street was a strip mall. There was a storefront in the center
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