Chapter Eight:

Oceanview Club

The sun was high in the sky as it reached noon. Jasper took a drag once he reached a stoplight, checking his watch compulsively, as if he could outrun time. Once the light became green, his phone began to buzz loudly. He picked up, putting it on speaker.

"Yo."

"Ayo, bruh," a frantic Chance hissed at the other end, "The hell you do?"

Jasper sniffed, letting the cigarette hang out his mouth as he used both hands to do a turn, "What?"

"Bunch of motherfuckers that work with Leon…they in club right now," Chance said, "They tossing shit over, they're all armed…they're going to the safe, removing the money…what's going on?"

Jasper griped, "Leon ain't gon' do business with us anymore."

Chance, who had been hiding in the men's room, put his feet up on the toilet seat when he saw someone enter. He spoke quietly, cupping his mouth so his voice could be heard through the phone, "I can see that. Why tho?"

Jasper took a hit of his cig, "Made the nigga mad. The hell you want me to say?"

Chance peeked over the stall, seeing the man who entered washing his hands. He then ducked back down when the man turned around.

"So mad that he ain't doing business with us no more?" Chance squeaked.

"Yes nigga," Jasper said, turning right at a busy intersection. Chance, on the other hand, snuck out the stall once the man dried his hands and left. He peeked out the bathroom to see about nine or ten guys, all with duffle bags, remove stacks of money from the floor safe. Their guns were visible and in-hand, as if ready to shoot if someone made the wrong move. He knew that if they didn't have to launder money through here, there was no point in having this club around. Chance could feel sweat roll down his forehead as he saw one of them walk towards the bar. He had a can of kerosene in tow and opened it, carelessly tossing the cap onto the ground. He began dumping the liquid all over the bar counter and the floor. Chance's eyes widened when he saw that. He withdrew back into the bathroom, going back into the stall.

"They gonna burn the place down," Chance whisper-screamed.

"I'm comin' nigga, just stall them!" Jasper yelled.

"Nah, nah, nah, I ain't stalling shit," Chance said, "I'ma give you an address, you gonna go there and ask for Vinchenzi Star."

"…Nigga who is that?" Jasper scoffed, his voice high with incredulity.

"Moneylender," Chance said, nervously crouching in the stall again, "We done unless we can get some money for repairs and funding."

"Nigga, stall them. Make sure they don't burn up the place."

"I ain't stalling these scary ass motherfuckers," Chance insisted, "They all got guns and if they see me they gonna put two between my eyes. Just go to 177 Oceanview Parkway."

Jasper grumbled, putting the address in the GPS. The fastest route was opposite to where he was going and so, when he reached another intersection, he did a U-turn, heading back down from where he came.

"Iight, fine, what you got me doin' out there then?"

Chance took a deep breath, lighting a cigarette with his tail. Smoking calmed his nerves enough so he could speak clearly.

"Iight, just ask for Vinchenzi Star," Chance said, "Beg this motherfucker for a loan."

Loan shark, Jasper thought, sighing angrily as he took a drag, "The fuck you got me walkin' into, Chance? Nigga, you better not have me showin' my ass out there. I ain't tryna get too deep."

"Look, look, look, I talked to him before. He refused me when I first asked for a loan for Bab Nights."

Jasper took another drag, "Why?"

Chance sighed. He took a long pull of his cigarette, tapping off excess ash as declined an answer.

"What? He thought yo broke ass couldn't pay back the loan?"

"No," Chance said, sniffing, "That ain't it."

"Then why the fuck he refused you nigga? Stop wasting my goddamn time. I already gotta deal with Leon's trust fund baby dumbass and his gang of fuck niggas, now you sendin' me to a Vin-Chen-Zi Staaaaaaar, nigga you better tell me who the hell he is."

"Okay, okay damn," Chance said, "He's typist."

"…He's typist?" Jasper shouted over the phone, "…Wait, he's a mon? What type?"

Chance cleared his throat, "Ah…a water type."

Jasper looked at the phone as if Chance could see him. If looks could kill, Chance would have been in the afterlife.

"So lemme get this straight," Jasper barked, gripping his steering wheel out of frustration, "Yo stupid ass, tried gettin' a loan from this nigga, a water type, who's fuckin' typist. And you think, it'll go better with MY ASS, who's an ELECTRIC type? If he turned yo dumbass down why the hell you think he gon' accept any proposal of mine?"

"Ay look, you got better drip than me," Chance said, taking another hit. He got out the stall and saw that Leon's men were now dousing the lounge chairs and tables with kerosene. "Just go bruh, the faster you get a loan, the faster we can do these repairs. They 'bout to burn the place."

"STALL THEM!" Jasper shouted, "You're fuckin' worthless, Chance."

He hung up, banging the steering wheel out of sheer frustration. He pulled over for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he smoked. Typism was common form of discrimination among mons, as if they didn't have enough shit to worry about. Some mons didn't associate, date or even want to do business with other mons that were either their weaknesses or their resists. It was more common in the past and although typism was looked down upon, some mons still were passively or actively typist. And he gon' have me deal with a typist water nigga, he thought, massaging his temples. This moffucka gon' have me dead before I can even get shit done. Jasper sighed, shaking his head as he finished his cigarette. He exhaled deeply. Just feel, deal and be real. And…be brave. He cut on his engine and sailed off onto the local roads, turning up the radio again as he did. Dr. Gross be sayin' that life is just a game and ain't nobody gonna wait around for you to make yo move…you gotta grab that shit, keep goin' and don't look back. It'll hurt, but pain is how you feel alive. He remembered the office of Dr. Gross. It was comfortable and intimate. And although it took several sessions for him to open up, he eventually did. It felt good to simply…let go of the pain that had been weighing on his chest without the judgment, without the reinforcement of taboos or the fear of ostracism. Poverty, racism, speciesism, classism…all these things, could weigh heavily upon the soul, the mind and even the body. Perhaps there was more to all this…pain, than just simply carrying it around, expecting it to be as it always was…even if some of it was absolutely self-inflicted. Just feel, deal and be real, Jasper reminded himself. Addictions be fuckin' with me. And I'm about my hustle. I can't let this shit die just as I start getting back on my feet.

Jasper checked the GPS and made a right per its suggestion. Oceanview Parkway overlooked the spotless water, where it looked like the sky and sea merged into one blue entity. Palm trees danced in the swift summer breeze as he saw people head towards the beach, laughing and smiling, unaware at what kept this city afloat. There were moments of clarity he had, realizing that humans and mons were alike, in so many ways… and yet, so different that they were truly just a separate breed. It was nebulous and terrifying. There was no true delineation between mon and human, because some humans carried the genes of a mon in them and vice versa. It was rare, but a human could produce a mon baby if they had a grandparent that was a mon. The contemptible truth of it all is that, while some the white-passing, human-passing, cute, attractive mons with acceptable non-human features, were tolerated, the ones that looked…too strange or too otherworldly, found themselves languishing in the margins. Jasper saw this for what it was—such clarity made him aware that the world othered him, for his skin, for his species, for his natural abilities. And in New Palm City, where humans and mons mingled to a great extent, harmoniously, there was poverty that kept the city afloat, labor and agony of the poor, the black and the alien that kept the neon lights spinning forever. Such lucidity was maddening. And here I am, stuck in the middle of all it. He swallowed hard as he parked in front of 177 Oceanview Parkway. The summer sun was blinding today and with no clouds in the sky, he felt as if he was being watched by an enormous eye. He got out his Buick, locking the doors and lit another cigarette, letting it hang out his mouth. Before him was a restaurant/lounge called The Catch. During the day, the neon signs were off, but at night, it looked like something out of an aquatic vaporwave fantasy. People walked on by, oblivious to the world around them unless it caught their eye. Jasper took a drag and turned around, checking himself in the car mirror. He sported a soft blue sports jacket, a floral shirt, a gold chain, his signature mirrored shades, white slacks and matching loafers. He cracked his neck and knuckles and walked towards the lounge. When he tried opening the door, he found that it was locked and so, with a relenting sigh, he knocked on it. A human woman who must have been the hostess walked over, opening the door. Jasper gave her a quick once-over. She was short and stocky, with frizzy gold hair and the typical sun tan of a NPC beach-goer. She had a toothpick in her mouth as she walked back to her post, hips wiggling side to side. Jasper watched her, enjoying the view of her plump behind, but caught himself before his mind wandered off into more lecherous thoughts.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said, putting out his cigarette between two fingers, "Lookin' for a…Vinchenzi Star?"

The woman chuckled nervously, "He's having lunch in the back. Do you have an appointment with him?"

"Erm…nah, this is an emergency," Jasper said, fumbling with his pockets. The woman nodded and walked towards the back. She opened the door, heading towards the large balcony that overlooked the ocean where Vinchenzi partook in al fresco dining.

"So I said to the little idiota, ey you come into my house, beggin' me for my money and you refuse to pay me back? Ey, nah, I ain't about to have that happen. So you know what I told the little fucker? I said 'if you don't got my money by the end of the week, I'ma brick break both yous kneecaps and drown yo whole fuckin' family—"

"Sorry to interrupt," the woman said, "You have a visitor, Mr. Star."

Vinchenzi frowned, "Really? Now? The hell they want?"

"They say it's an emergency," the woman said, "Should I…send them off?"

"Nah, bring the lil' twerp," Vinchenzi said, sipping his mimosa, "The hell gon' interrupt me while I'm having lunch…"

The woman nodded and walked back, gesturing to Jasper to follow. He did exactly that, walking through the double glass doors that led to the gorgeous balcony that was decorated with sea-themed plants and knickknacks. When he was outside, he saw Vinchenzi, sitting with seven other men, all water type mons. Vinchenzi sat at the head of the table, eating al dente pasta with shrimp and mussels. His skin was soft sky blue and instead of hair on top of his head, he sported squiggly tentacles, tied back in a mini ponytail to mimic the appearance of hair. Emerging from the tentacles, were a row of sand-brown spikes that went down to the back of his neck, showing he was of the Omastar line. He was slim bodied and short, with sharp teeth and slitted yellow eyes that he hid behind shades. He also had tentacles on his chin, doubling as a goatee. He set down his utensils and stared at Jasper. In fact, everyone sitting at the table stared at Jasper.

"Gloria," he said, "What the hell is this?"

"The man who wanted to see you," she said, quickly shuffling back inside to return to her post.

"Get a load of this motherfucker," a Vaporeon man said to Vinchenzi, sitting to his right.

"Ey, I don't know why Gloria let you in here, but make this shit quick," Vinchenzi said, "I'm tryna eat here. What do you want?"

Jasper looked around at them and sighed, "Ay man, a man named Chance came and asked y'all for a loan some time ago for Babylon Nights."

"Chance?" Vinchenzi patted his mouth, "His name sound familiar."

"Yeah, he's of the Charizard line," Jasper said, "The club, it's my shit. And right now, I'm gettin' fucked over by Leon."

"I don't know any Leon," Vinchenzi said, "But I do recall a Chance. Skinny, tall guy? Looks tired all the time? Yeah, him. I told his ass no."

"Why?" Jasper asked.

"Cuz he don't look like the type to pay me back," Vinchenzi said, sipping his mimosa, "And if you askin' for a loan, the answer is gonna be no, cuz you don't look like the type to pay me back either."

Jasper gritted his teeth, his ears going flat against his head, "Iight. What I gotta say to convince you?"

"Nothin'," Vinchenzi said, "I said what I said."

Jasper lit a cigarette. He took a drag, "Ion look like the type? Ion know…is it cuz I'm black passin'…or cuz I'm an electric type?"

The men scoffed and grumbled, looking clearly offended at the insinuation, but Vinchenzi forced himself to remain cool.

"You tryna call me a racist? A typist?"

"I mean," Jasper shrugged, taking a drag, "Why you turn down Chance? What part of the nigga looks like he can't pay y'all back?"

"His cheap ass clothes for one," a Kingler man said, laughing as he sipped his water.

"And his bad ass attitude," the Vaporeon man said, "Comin' in here, smellin' like cheap booze and shit, askin' for a loan like we owe him anything."

"And he just don't look like the type," Vinchenzi said, folding his arms, "You gonna make something of it?"

"My club is being set on fire as we speak," Jasper said, "Niggas wanna ruin me and my set. See my drip? See my shit? You think I can't pay y'all back?"

"No," Vinchenzi said, "I don't think you would. Now you makin' my boys nervous. You can be on your way uh…what you say yo name was?"

"Jasper," he said, taking a drag.

"Typical name for a…ah…hahaha," Vinchenzi ate his words, laughing to himself, "Well, go on, skedaddle."

"I ain't 'skedaddlin' or wha'ever the fuck y'all niggas say these days," Jasper said, "Gimme one good reason why y'all think I can't pay you back."

Vinchenzi stared at him, "I don't think you heard me—"

"Oh no nigga, I heard you," Jasper said, "And I'm still convinced yo ass typist and prolly racist on top of it. All y'all pasta eatin', eggplant lickin' niggas be like that. I mean, listen, you ain't gotta do anything you don't want but—"

Vinchenzi slammed his fist on the table, "Don't you tell me what I gotta do or what I don't gotta do. Are you deaf stronzo? Porca giuda! You don't come up in my lounge and start bossing up like you own the fuckin' place, marone. The balls you got on you don't match yo sissy ass outfits, either."

Jasper scowled, "Nigga you think I'm scared of you and yo gang of one-shot wonders out here, my guy?"

The Vaporeon man stood up, withdrawing his pistol from his suit jacket, turning the safety off, "One shot wonder, indeed, elettrico."

Jasper took a drag of his cigarette but refrained from saying anything else. Vinchenzi also stood up, wiping his mouth.

"Iight stronzo," Vinchenzi said, cracking his knuckles. Jasper could see he had a gold ring on every finger. "Gimme one good reason, why I should give you any kinda loan after you come up in my enclave and disrespect the fuck outta me. And if I don't like the fuckin' reason, Vatio here, gonna shoot you in the fuckin' face and throw yo body into the ocean. You got five seconds, elettrico."

"I promise I'ma make y'all niggas rich—erm, richer than y'all already be," Jasper said. Vatio raised the pistol but Vinchenzi gestured to him to lower it.

"Keep talkin," Vinchenzi said.

"Babylon Nights is already a hotspot," Jasper explained, "We got bad ass dancers, we got great alcohol—"

"How's that any different from any other nightclub around here?" Vatio asked, raising his pistol again.

"It's not located deep in a tourist trap," Jasper continued, "The peeps who be goin', they're locals. And locals return. Tourists don't, cuz they tourists—they go once, maybe twice and then hop they asses on the next plane back to Kanto or Unova or wherever the fuck these niggas be comin' from. Chance was askin' for a loan cuz the club has potential to return on them investments so much, that we ain't concerned about interest and shit."

Vatio lowered his pistol and looked at Vinchenzi, who was considering it.

"Ay look, I ain't tryna disrespect nobody out here," Jasper conceded, "I'm in a tight spot. My shit gettin' torched up and is gon tank if someone can't help out, so yeah, I ain't gon' lie, I'm kinda stressed. I promise tho, I'ma pay y'all back. Once the club fixed up and runnin' again, you gon see the cash flow."

Vinchenzi snapped his fingers and Vatio sighed, putting his pistol away. He went back around the table and offered Jasper a seat. He sat cautiously next to a Walrein man, who made it clear he didn't want to be around him. The Walrein man scooted away from Jasper, finishing his meal a good foot away from him. Vinchenzi texted Gloria and in less than a minute, she was on the balcony.

"Get this man a cup of water," Vinchenzi said, "Or…would you prefer liquor?"

"Uh, a mimosa is fine," Jasper said.

"And cheddar biscuits for the table," Vinchenzi said to Gloria. She nodded, walking back inside and heading to the kitchen.

"You got some balls on you," Vinchenzi said, looking at his watch, "I appreciate a motherfucker who can talk his shit. You still on thin ice, tho. Now… tell me about Babylon Nights."

Jasper nodded, taking a short drag of his cigarette, "It's a chill spot and a hot spot. Got lit ass music, hookah, drinks, dancers, usual shit. However, like I said before, it's a place where locals can go to without being bombarded with tourists. It's human and mon friendly, with dancers being of either species. It got bomb ass chicken wings, we got lemon pepper, buffalo, Kanto wings, jerk wings, BBQ, spicy mango, Alola reapers, ya know, all that good shit."

"And this Leon person," Vinchenzi said, "He fuckin' you over, why?"

Jasper sighed, briefly thanking Gloria when she set the mimosa in front of him, "Cuz…you know what? I'ma be honest. The nigga had a contact who helped him move horse and yayo into NPC. The nigga was one of his biggest smugglers. When I went to pick up a shipment from him, he had this girl. She was young, real young, like underage. She was sold to him and he been fuckin' her for years, keepin' her doped up and shit. She begged me for help and I helped her. The nigga got salty and told Leon he ain't gonna run no mo' shit until he got the girl back. Leon told me, give back the girl and keep it pushin'. I didn't…so, he out to get my ass got."

Vinchenzi sipped his mimosa, raising an eyebrow—an eyebrow that was clearly tattooed on.

"Ion know…" Jasper said quietly, "Maybe I was bein' stupid."

"That's some real honorable shit right there," Vinchenzi said, "One thing I can't stand is a pussy and a man who abuse women and kids." He spat, showing his disgust of the whole situation, "To me…that makes you lower than dirt."

Not to Leon, Jasper thought as he carefully sipped the mimosa.

"You did the right thing," Vinchenzi said, "Hmm…alright. Listen, I'ma make one exception for you. I want my money by the beginning of next year. Do you hear me?"

Jasper nodded, sighing in relief, "Bet."

Vinchenzi gestured to the Walrein man, "Ay, Wally, go get my checkbook and the papers." The Walrein man mumbled angrily, getting up from the table and walked back inside, going up the stairs.

"We charge interest," Vinchenzi warned, "So…"

"Ay, I gotchu," Jasper said, holding out his hand to shake it. Vinchenzi gave him a look, not wanting to touch him. He withdrew his hand, realizing he truly was typist…or racist, or both. He took one last drag of his cigarette, which was now almost burned through. He discarded it, flexing his hands. Wally returned with Vinchenzi's checkbook, along with some papers, placing the papers in front of Jasper and the checkbook in front of Vinchenzi. Jasper lifted his shades, reading them over. Wally placed a black ballpoint pen next to Jasper.

"How much you need?" Vinchenzi asked.

"Five hundred thousand," Jasper said. Vatio and Wally exchanged looks and chuckled, with the latter sitting back down around the table to finish his lunch. Jasper looked at the agreement:

LOAN AMOUNT:

Jasper tentatively wrote 500,000 in the blank space and looked down at the rest of the document. He checked his phone, writing the date and time on the allotted space. He scanned the contract, carefully reading each word.

The above value received by _ with an address of _ in New Palm City. The borrower agrees pay Vinchenzi Star—the lender—back the full amount by January 1st, of the next year. Payment plans include the following:

1. 5% payment weekly

2. 10% monthly

The agreement shall be due and payable, including the principal and any accrued interest in one of the following ways. All payments made by The Borrower _, are to be applied first to any accrued interest, then to the principal balance. The total amount of the loan shall be due on January 1st.

The interest rate of the allotted sum (_), shall be paid, by 15%, compounded tri-monthly (every three months).

The Borrower (_) has the right to pay back any amount of the principal or the interest before January 1st.

Jasper signed his name in the blank spaces and then finally at the end of the document. Vinchenzi wrote a check of 500,000 and gave it to Jasper, who took a picture of the contract with his phone. When he was finished, Vinchenzi took the contract and handed it to Vatio, telling him to put it in away in one of his many folders.

"So," he said, closing his checkbook, "Satisfied?"

Jasper swallowed deeply, folding the check carefully and placing it in his pocket, "Yeah." He got up from his seat and this time, Vinchenzi held out his hand. Jasper shook it, falteringly, and Vinchenzi let go almost as soon as he touched him.

"Remember," Vinchenzi called out to him as he walked away from their al fresco dining, "January 1st."

"Yeah," Jasper said, knowing it was about six to seven months away. The fuck did I get myself into? He walked back into the lounge and back out through the front, heading towards his Buick. When he got inside his car, he looked at the check. Five hundred thousand dollars, he thought, smoothing a finger against the decorative paper. He exhaled softly and cut on his engine. He put back on his shades, lit a cigarette and pulled out. He called Chance when he reached the stoplight. In a few minutes of ringing, Chance picked up, sounding dejected.

"I got a loan," Jasper said.

Chance sighed, sitting on the rooftop of Babylon Nights. While the club itself held steady, the interior was burnt out.

"How much?"

"500,000," Jasper said, "Half of that should cover the damages, the other half will go back into fundin' the club."

Chance lit a cigarette with his tail flame and crossed his legs as he looked out into the clear, blue sky. He held the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he smoked.

"So yeah…Leon gonna kill you once he gets the chance."

"He already tried," Jasper said, checking his watch as he headed to one of the underground banks.

"And he gonna try again," Chance told him, sighing, "Anywho…how'd you convince Vinchenzi."

"Eh, I just stood up to that sadiddy ass nigga. He actually might be racist along with typist," Jasper mused, "Ain't tryna fuck with no dumb shit tho. Once this club back and runnin', we need to focus on making sure the loan repaid."

"Leon gonna fuck with it again."

"I'ma handle him, iight? I'm done fuckin' with that spoiled house nigga from Brightwater," Jasper snapped, "Ion know who the fuck he think he is."

"Leon Lielen," Chance said, exhausted from all the stress. He took a drag and shook his head.

I need a drink, Jasper thought as he hung up. He looked up, seeing the sun slowly crawling across the sky as the hours flittered by into a late afternoon.

Just feel, deal and be real.

He drove on, hoping for a better tomorrow.