Chapter 33

You don’t have to think too hard to figure out why cities have varied and different kinds of neighborhoods. The reasons vary from economic to social to geographic location, or something else. Most parts of a city play to the people who make up those parts. Some parts of a city are ritzy, and others not so much. Invariably, there are those parts in large cities that become less desirable. Some are even dangerous to live in. Those are places people would call ghettos. Usually, these rundown areas are something left over from some well-intentioned government project that’s gone awry, and, sad to say, Seattle is no different. Seattle has a ghetto.

Sakol and I were deep inside the projects. This area consisted of boarded up old buildings, rundown apartment houses, empty storefronts and filthy streets. There were very few cars on the streets as we cruised slowly down back streets until Sakol finally turned into a long, dark alley. This alley was in the heart of ghetto territory. I’ll admit, I’d never been to this area before, and had I not been with Sakol, I would not be there this morning. As we slowly cruised down the alley, Sakol sat with his left hand resting on the steering wheel looking back and forth until we reached the alley end. He pulled in behind a dumpster, turned off the motor, and glanced over.

“Come,” was his instruction. I got out of the car and followed him out to the street. “Stay close,” he told me. I thought for a moment about some smart assed quip, but I kept my mouth shut.

The morning was cool, and a slight fog hung over the streets, blurring the building outlines. We’d been the only two people in the alley and we were still alone on the street except for the rare car passing by. We walked down a trash strewn street, the sounds of our shoes echoing off the surrounding brick walls. Finally, we came to two sets of stairs in the middle of the block where Sakol stopped and looked both ways.

One set of stairs went up towards the building entrance, and another set went down. We took the stairs going down and reached the building’s basement. Sakol opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, he turned, and again he advised me, “Stick close.” His comment almost made me giggle aloud. Telling me to stick close was not something he needed to say twice. The truth be told, he didn’t need say it the first time.

The area at the bottom of the stairs was poorly lit; it appeared to be lit with a 25-watt bulb. Trash was scattered everywhere, and I figured it was just as well I couldn’t see much.

Sakol opened a door, and after he partied a set of drapes, we passed into a room almost pitch dark. As my eyes slowly adapted to the diminished light, I could see we were in a very large room with chairs and beds scattered around the perimeter. There were a couple of tables in the middle of the room with candles burning on them, giving off feeble light. I thought I saw forms in some of the beds, but I didn’t want to stare. What I found the most difficult to deal with was the stench of unwashed bodies, urine, old smoke and smells I’ never encountered before. It was unbelievable. How anybody could spend more than a few minutes in the room was beyond me. My main thought was how quickly we could do what we had to do and get out of there.

Sakol seemed to know where he was going, and I followed him as he walked directly towards the back of the room. I wanted to ask him if we really needed to be here but thought better of it. I’d lived my entire life in Seattle, and I’d never imagined there was anything like this room in my town. Without a doubt, this was a true drug den; something you expected to find in the slums of Hong Kong. This was straight out of a horror film. As hip as I thought I was, I felt like some naive kid from the sticks walking through the room. Up to this point in my life, I’d suffered through the horrors of SE Asia, and I’d witnessed many things I’d just prefer to forget. But this room and its location was something I couldn’t grasp.

If Sakol hadn’t reached out to open the door at the back of the room, I never would have known there was a door, or even a knob. Once Sakol’s hand touched the door- knob, a massive man stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Sakol’s hand. It was so dark all I could see was a large black shadow.

“What do you want?” a deep rumbling voice asked.

In a whisper, Sakol growled, “You have two seconds to remove your hand, or I’ll break it off and hand it to you.” The giant looked down at Sakol for a moment, and then pulled his hand back.

“What do you want back here?” The large man asked again. I stood there trying to make out his features. About the only thing I could tell for sure was he was a black man. The other thing was considering I’m close to 6’4”, this man had to be well over seven feet tall.

“I wanna see Mouse.” Sakol told him.

“Does he expect you?”

“Mouse and I go way back. He always expects me.” Sakol paused, and then continued, “And the longer you keep me out here, the worse it will be for you when I finally see him.”

The giant thought a moment, and then nodded. “Go ahead.”

After the depressing room we were leaving, the next room we entered was even more unreal. The room we just left was something from a nightmare, this room was something from a dream. Soft lighting concealed around the edge of the coffered ceiling lit the room. The walls were oak paneled, and the carpet underfoot was thick and soft. In addition, one end of the room had expensive leather furniture creating a sitting area, while the other end held a large executive desk with chairs around it. Close to the desk was a fireplace with a fire going, surrounded by a large mantelpiece.

Behind the table sat a small man in a well-tailored suit. When he saw Sakol, he jumped up, clapped his hands together, and ran around the table. He extended his right hand, and with a smile he exclaimed, “Sakol, my old friend, it’s wonderful to see you. It has been way too long.”

The two of them hugged one another, and then ended up with Sakol leaning down and getting close enough to bump shoulders, similar to how Black men tend to greet each other. In order for Sakol’s shoulder to touch the small man’s shoulder, Sakol had to bend deeply at the waist. As they stepped back, Mouse looked over at me, and exclaimed, “Who is this?”

Sakol motioned to me, as he spoke, “This is Matt Preston. Matt, this is Steve Fox, but you should call him Mouse.” The little man extended a well-manicured hand, and, as I shook it, my hand engulfed his. I doubted if the man was five feet tall, but his voice and manners were impeccable.

Mouse said, “Sit, both of you.” He waved his hand towards the overstuffed leather chairs. After we both settled down, the diminutive man asked, “Can I offer you a cup of coffee? Tea? A drink perhaps?”

Sakol replied, “Coffee please, lots of cream.”

The man looked at me. “Same, please.” I replied.

The petite man went to his desk, and I guessed there must’ve been a button there. A second later, an invisible door set into the paneling opened, and a lovely young Asian woman entered the room. “Sir?” she asked.

“Three coffees, please, two with cream and one how I prefer.”

“Sir.” The young woman bowed slightly and then left.

“Women still very beautiful.” Sakol commented.

The tiny man laughed, “Sakol, knock it off. You and I go too far back for you to pull that stupid Charlie Chan crap on me,” and they both laughed. The way they spoke to each other I could tell their friendship was deep and lengthy.

Mouse gave a small bow as he smiled at me and said, “I am so pleased to meet you, Mr. Preston. Your poker games are legendary.” Words fail to convey how the remark stuck me. There was a knock at the door, and Mouse called out, “Come!” The door opened, and the beautiful girl returned with a serving tray. She sat the tray down, and when she reached for the coffee pot, Mouse told her to leave, and he’d pour. He poured us each a cup, handed one to Sakol, and one to me. The color of mine was perfect. I noticed Mouse’s cup already had something in it.