The Silver Parrot

This is a work in progress.

The Silver Parrot
Peter Kajano

The first time I walked into the place it was buzzin with more women then I had seen in six years. The fourth of July was still a big day of celebration and beer bottles cluttered the bar with space for only two or three more 16 oz bottles. I nudged through the crowd keeping my hands close to my sides for fear they might end up on some cute ass. A few years ago I would have had no anxiety and would have let them enjoy themselves. It was a different world for me today. You go with the flow so they say, but I didn’t know where to go. Elmira had taught me a lesson on knowing the difference between what you would like to do and what you can’t do.

Bud had not changed however, and I was thankful for that as I gulped it down half way before taking a breath. Some Vet was out of it, talking to everyone about no one, so I thought I’d join the conversation. He had been in Nam and wounded three times. The third one caused him to manage with only one and a half legs. I liked him right off, because he wasn’t belligerent. Most of my old buddies, after two drinks were ready to tear up the place, and beat the shit out of anyone that looked their way. And when there was no one to kick ass, I was their meat. But I grew smart after three of them jumped me one night at Hibernian Hall. It was obvious from my appearance that I wasn’t Irish when the green beer flowed from sunset to sundown and than some. I never found out why they thought I was such easy prey. But I put a stop to it very quick. I stayed sober one night waiting for the first one to put a move on me. Three solid punches and then I finished them all with a black jack I kept concealed. Yeah, they were hurting so bad they never came near me again. Revenge is sweet.

So much for friendship, but they were the good old days.

I was in trouble with the law ever since I can remember. Nothing serious until several of us broke into a freight car by bending the tin strap through the lock until it separated. From there we opened the freight car door, helping ourselves to canned hams and blue bird orange juice. We stored it in our shack near the railroad tracks thinking nothing of it until a railroad detective knocked on my door and told my Mom I was one of several boys who broke a federal law and I better return the stolen food. I found out later it was Teletype Nick who squealed on me. It was a good lesson to learn at an early age. You don’t trust anybody and while Mom’s cry, Dad’s punish.

High Street in Newark, N.J. was the one street everyone knew. It was where they adjudicated all juvenile punks. Miraculously my Dad knew the detective; actually it was my uncle whose name was synonymous with gambling and was a straight dealer for the local back rooms, which many of the“ blues” visited from time to time. The four of us stood before the Judge as he began to scold us. The lady court reporter moved in her chair and Nick and I could have sworn, she farted, and the two of us started laughing. How do you explain to a judge that you heard the court steno fart? You can’t. The laughter turned to anxiety however, when his voice exploded and he all but threw us into the clink right then and there. We talked to the detective, who didn’t think it was funny, but he helped us regain our composure and we wised up answering, yes sir, no sir, your Honor. Fortunately, our parents paid a small sum of money for the food we robbed and since it was our first offense, we were sent home. After that it was a gradual climb to street fights, petty larceny and finally a car theft that put me away for five years. I was considered a compulsive thug.

I found out the Vet’s name was Frank. He was so spaced out he was ready to make the bar stool his bed. As usual, you can always find some asshole ready to take advantage of a drunk. The guy was looking to take the stool to make an impression on the girl he had been putting the make on for the last half hour. I politely told him to screw off and I think it offended the super hero in front of his would-be gal. She had brains, telling him to forget it. He wanted to play the role and I was sick of stepping between eggshells. It happened so fast he barely knew what hit him. I was always quick with my hands but after boxing in jail these last five years along with pumpin' iron I could be mean and get away with it fairly easy.

That’s when they started calling me T.K.O. I dropped the "O" immediately for it had nothing to do with my true identity.

Occasionally some asshole would give me that karate bullshit. All I needed was one chance to land either my right or left and he was down. And I was too smart to let him get up even to one knee. I apologized to the punk’s would-be, lying to her that Frank was my father and I was just trying to defend him. She bought it and apologized for her jerk. I laughed to myself and would have put the make on her, but I had to get Frank home wherever that might be. I was hoping I could come back later and see her. I left her for a moment to see the bartender while her hero was grabbing at a chair to help himself up. I returned a few minutes later and they were both gone. Frank was snoring, enjoying some bizarre dream, mumbling, laughing and fondling himself. I didn’t want to interrupt him so I waited. But a moment later he started screaming. To everyone else in the place they wouldn’t have heard a bomb go off—it was that wild. The bartender had already called a cab, as this was a weekend routine with Frank. I could have left him to the cabbie; I was told he always managed once they dropped him off. But I wasn’t certain he was okay after hearing that scream. Besides where else could I get a free room for the night.

I woke up with Frank’s contorted face no more than several inches from my nose staring at me. I winked at him and he backed away as if he saw a ghost. Good morning Frank, I said, taking the initiative.

Frank’s stare told me everything before he said, “Do I know you?”

“Yea, I saved your ass last night while you were laying over the bar stool. But you don’t have to thank me,” I said leading him on.

“Oh yea,” he lied. “But I forgot your name.”

“It’s Frank,” I teased.

“No. You’re putting me on.”

“Your right, I’m just teasing you. My name is Julia.”

He started to laugh and right away, I knew I had a friend. We talked about everything and nothing but it felt good to talk to a person with a sense of humor instead of some dud in prison. His apartment was nice, comfortable, and spacious, but a mess with dirty dishes, empty paper plates, skivvies and soiled clothes. But it was fully equipped with washer, dryer and two bedrooms. Frank had a pension from the teachers union and a disability from the government. He had nowhere else to spend his money but on himself. Even the apartment was owned by one of his buddies and he paid a quarter of what anyone else paid. Since I arrived and parked my ass for a night, he invited me to stay until I got on my feet. He knew I wasn’t going to say no. We grew on each other as he introduced me to the big Apple. He surprised me to no end. He was a former history teacher and knew more about the town than a historian. Now that he was sober, he saw right through me, knowing I was trying to get something for nothing. He let it go though.

Frank was my first friend since coming to New York. He drank less once I moved in. He bought me a membership in the local gym so I could continue to work out daily. It wasn’t long until he introduced me to a Vet who gave me a job the same day. I was now a painter. It certainly wasn’t what I wanted, but a job is a job and I didn’t want to sponge off of Frank any longer. It would have to do until I found something better. And I was through being a punk. Frank became my surrogate father. My Dad was just a memory now, standing in a glass frame somewhere in the back of my mind. I thought it was setting somewhere on a mantle over a fireplace but it was too many years ago, I couldn’t remember.

Mom and Dad had died over eight years ago while I was in prison and since I had no brothers or sisters, prison had become my home. I was one of three in my block who never received a visitor. I guess that was what hurt the most. There was absolutely no one who wanted to see me—and no one I cared to see.

It doesn’t get any worse than that.

Frank and I enjoyed a good relationship and with his help, I was saving money. He had Vet buddies that would give their life for him as he would for them and before long one of them had me investing some of my savings in stocks and bonds. I was learning about life through Frank’s eyes and he was showing me his world within the world I thought I knew. But one night a week we would go out and tear up the town. Frank stayed mostly sober throughout the night watching me pick up some girl and sometimes I would share her with him. It was hilarious. The girl was in bed half boozed and half asleep and Frank would slip in between the sheets and she never knew what the hell was going on. She woke up in the morning with me beside her, telling me how much she enjoyed it. We generally got away with it. More importantly for me is that I managed to put a spark in his life he had not known for years and he responded by giving his all to prepare me for a future I didn’t deserve.

I took up boxing again and couldn’t believe how out of shape I was. But it didn’t take me long to pick it up. I was feeling especially well after and my sparing coach wanted me to go pro. I talked to Frank and he said there’s not much of a future in boxing today. He was right. I could feel good pounding some guy, but after the fight when the rush was gone, what then? So I let it go.

It had been several months or more since we met and on this Sunday morning on a perfect day in autumn, we had gone into the city to have breakfast in the village. We walked everywhere with Frank enjoying a new prosthetic. We sat along the way at different places, wherever we found a park, stool, chair or porch, so it wouldn’t tire Frank. We were walking through Tribeca when Frank pointed to the guy across the street. There was a Hollywood star that was in and out of the limelight because he couldn’t refuse a pinch of the raw nub. Naturally, he was featured on the front page of every rag magazine in the country. We stopped at Starbuck’s coffee shop, which I was sick of already.

“Is this a trend or is it the cities new culture trap?” Frank wasn’t listening.

I thought he was watching a bag lady cursing some Asian guy trying to get free of her. But a second later, I heard a pop and Frank was pulling me to the ground. He knew instinctively it was a revolver. I felt like a jerk hittin' the sidewalk and not knowing what was going on or where the shots were coming from. Frank commanded me to stay down.

“There’s two guns across the street aiming at a guy about twenty feet away. Stay down! Don’t go playing the hero.”

“Hell no,” I said. “I don’t mind fist, but guns were never my speed.”

“That’s good to know. We can get up now, they ran off.”

“Holy shit…what kind of town is this?”

“Stop your bitching, I thought you were tough?”

“I haven’t learned to stop a speeding bullet yet.”

Frank laughed as I helped him off the sidewalk. “This is unusual. The other 364 days nothing happens in this part of town, believe me.”


He was a remarkable man who never seemed to be frightened of anything. I knew he must have been a medal winner. He had all the makings of one. Yet, he never talked about Nam except when he got drunk and then you couldn’t understand him. I figured out he had a wife and two daughters. How perceptive of me looking at a photo of him with his arm around Mama and two sweet-looking girls, probably taken fifteen to twenty years ago. You didn’t need a G.E.D. to figure it out. I wasn’t going to mention Mama and the girls, not just yet anyway. We were ready to go home, when Frank began to cry. I couldn’t believe it. I was embarrassed for him. He wasn’t. He let it out and didn’t say a word or give me a clue to what was going on inside of him. I didn’t say a word but it hurt me.

I’ve seen some mean guys in my life that never shed a tear for anyone, and they weren’t half the man Frank was. I just couldn’t understand it. I left it alone. If he wanted to tell me, maybe some day he would, and if not so what. It didn’t change the way I felt about him. But I was curious who this man was.

Three days later on Thursday around six-thirty, Frank was dressed to meet his buddies to play cards.

“You look overdressed for just going out to play cards,” I observed. “Are you hiding a chick from me?”

He smiled. “Yeah she’s a left legged woman looking for a right legged man. No, I’m going to meet someone special after the game,” he admitted.

Stupid that I am, I said, “Is it your wife or one of your daughters?”

He looked at me as if I was a Gook. I saw the eyes of a killer. I’ve seen those eyes before. I hit on a nerve and I was sorry as soon as it came out.

Frank relaxed, regaining his composure. “It’s my daughter. She’s into drugs and sluttin around. She thinks some contact is going to meet her and give her some money. Sex for drugs; just the simplicity of it, enrages me. But she’s my daughter, and I love her. It may seem strange to you, but she needs help. Just like you and me.”

He was right, but he was walking into something I knew more about.

“I’m not a psychologist, but I don’t think it will do her any good if you appear out of a cloud to assist her when she’s expecting a guardian angel with something more substantial. In other words Frank if you go see her, you’re going to fuck it up. Let me go. You know I won’t put the make on her and I’ll give her the money and find out a lot more than you would be able to. Let me help you.”

He rubbed his chin like an old professor and contemplated what I offered. “You would do this for me?”

“No,” I teased, “I’m doing it because I want to find out if she is as ugly as you are.”

Frank never hugged me, but I was afraid he might, so I stepped away from him. He said thanks and gave me the number and location of a hotel in Queens. I knew something of Queens, but he was quick to suggest I take a cab. He offered to pay for it, but I refused.

It was exactly eight thirty. I was a half an hour early. I didn’t know if she was turning another trick, and I didn’t want to find out, so I walked around the area looking at the neighborhood which went from sleazy to more sleazy.

“Fuckin beautiful,” I thought. “She’s in a shit hole, which means she can’t get the moneymen. She has to take what she can get…and that’s bad. If she survives, what the hell is she going to come down with?”

It was time. I was going to do my best to find out all I could and kick ass when I found her pimp if she had one. But one way or another, I was going to even the score. I was going to make certain she would dry out. That’s what I promised myself for Frank even if I had to do it behind his back.

I knocked on the door and caught myself before calling out Jodi, her real name, instead of Sarah, her professional name. She opened the door stoned, with a flimsy slip that showed all the curves of her body, which were amazing. Yet, the drugs diminished her once beautiful face.

The phone rang as she let me in. It had to be her pimp wanting to find out if her party arrived. She giggled and said, “I’ll see you later.”

She looked at me, and I’m certain she had not seen someone like me in months, or maybe years. Jodi looked me over and could see I wasn’t just another trick. I was young, in good shape and was easy to the eye. She gave me her favorite line. “Do you want to fuck, or do you want to make love. One will cost you more than the other.”

I threw out the bait. “You don’t need to get down and dirty, you’re much too good for this place. I’m not here to test the merchandise, I want you for the big players. I heard about you and came myself. Here’s a thousand dollars just to prove I don’t bullshit.”

She was startled.

“Here’s the deal. No strings attached. You keep the thousand. But if you come with me, I’ll introduce you to real living. The best clients and the cleanest shit you won’t find anywhere else.”

She was ready, but I knew what was running through her mind.

“Don’t worry about your pimp, he won't bother you. If he does, he’ll never walk again. But I’m not going to hustle you. It’s your decision. One thing I ask of you is the truth about who you are and what you have been doing. That’s for your sake, so I can protect you. Do you understand?” The pitch was made. Now I had to close her. “Do you need anymore time? I want you out of this dump now. I‘ll get you a hotel in the city, where you can get cleaned up.”

I had no idea of what the hell I was going to do, but I knew I had to get her out of here and stall her until I talked to Frank. She wanted a piece of me to show her appreciation. I gave her a kiss to seal the agreement and told her tonight’s not the night. I wanted her clean for that special occasion. One last thought was running through my mind and I spoke it out. “When will your pimp becoming by?”

“Not till three unless I contact him.”

“Three is perfect.”

“Are you going to hurt him?”

“No, but I need to speak to him and pay him off. Business is business.” She bought it, I called the cab and we out of there. I took her to a hotel in Manhattan and accompanied her to her room. “Get a good night sleep. I’ll call you in the morning. If you go out, give me a call. Here’s my number,” I said as I wrote it on a pad I found on the dresser. I gave her a kiss and left.

The city was just coming awake and to my surprise, Frank was walking behind me when I got out of the cab. I didn’t notice his cab pull up behind me. I should have. I could see he was anxious to talk to me but we cooled it until we were in the apartment. I went through the whole spiel in about ten minutes with Frank just nodding his head.
When I told him I was going back to see the pimp, he shook his head, no.

“What do you mean by that.”

“You did enough. I’ll take care of the pimp.”

“How?”

“I have friends. I don’t want you getting involved.”

“Come on Frank, this will be a push over.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” He had a look about him that told me he had everything worked out.

“Ok! What do you want to do about tomorrow? I told Jodi I would see her.”

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of that too. My friend will tell her you had to take a flight to LA, and that you sent him to take her out to buy new clothes.”

“Okay, but what’s the hells going on?”

“Nothing, I’m her father, so please let me handle it. You did a great job, T.K. and I’m grateful. You know how I feel about you but I need to get involved. I’ve been working on the peripherals all these months and you finally gave me the chance to help her. It’s nothing more than that.”

I was going to be a little more cautious around him from now on. Frank was smart, but I was streetwise. Things just weren’t as simple as he would have me believe.


Two days later, a Roberto Rodriguez was found dead near a garbage container, from a suspected overdose. The address listed in the paper was on the same street in Queens where the hotel was. I became suspicious. Especially when I heard he had been arrested several times for running a prostitution ring. I thought about him, Sarah and how my life had changed in less than a year. Frank was involved more than I knew. I had a feeling he and his buddies were having more than card games and bullshit sessions. They were tighter than shit.

I didn’t hear anymore about his daughter and I wasn’t going to stick my nose into what was now his show. But a crazy thought came to me. I hopped in a cab and went back to Queens wondering if Sarah had returned. When I got there all I could do was walk around the block. It wasn’t safe so I took a cab to her hotel. Though curious, I was smart enough not to approach her room. I walked out.

So much for my investigation.

Some clown was walking behind me and I could tell he was following me. I said nothing but walked so slow he had all he could do from not tripping over me. I turned, stared at him and laughed in his face. He turned abruptly and crossed the street. I told Frank about it and he said it was one of his friends. At that point, I was pissed.

“What are you doing Frank?”

He looked at me and said very nonchalantly, “You’re family. Is there something wrong with that or are you such a big shot that you don’t need anyone.”

“How did you know I would go to the hotel?”

“Because I know you’re curious about what happened to my daughter. What you don’t know is, the police are combing the hotel looking for other prostitutes belonging to Roberto. Someone might have recognized you. You were smart for leaving the area.
They are still investigating.”

“How do you know all this?”

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah! Thanks but I know there’s more to it.” I was still annoyed, and Frank knew it. I let it go, but there were a dozen or more questions I wanted to ask him.

Frank ended the conversation with, “Don’t worry Jodi’s fine.”


The following night, I was introduced to Frank’s buddies when I was invited to one of their card games. I was honored. These guys were all combat vets with a dozen purple hearts between them and they didn’t take shit from anyone. Frank had briefed me on their names and heroic acts but he still never let me in on his accomplishments as platoon leader. They were the gentlest yet fearless son-of-a bitches I’ve ever met. They were professional men in well-placed jobs that provided them with intricate ways to obtain information. The four became fourteen when one considered the influences of their children who could sometimes provide them with additional information. It was simple. Bob’s daughter worked at DMV in the Insurance Service Bureau. She provided name, address, date of birth, year and make of all registered vehicles and previous addresses. Robert’s son was a librarian who had access to county records. John’s son was a realtor and could hunt down any piece of property in or out of the state. Carl’s son was a fireman and had a couple friends on the police force that would provide him with information from time to time. And a vast network of vets helped out when called upon. They shared their lives together in the rice paddies of Nam and would do anything to protect their buddies and their families. I found out they coded info on the Internet as well. They sent e-mail to group members and kept each other informed via their website. They were a tight organization.

I was running an errand for Frank when she appeared coming out of a coffee shop. She looked like a flower girl displaced from the sixties wearing a pinkish brown skirt to her ankles with flats. She wore a bandana around her forehead and a scarf around her neck with rings, bangles, beads and shades too big for her face. She couldn’t be any older than twenty-five. Her profile was magnificent. I could see her eyes penetrating my very soul as she smiled through the not-dark-enough sunglasses. I noticed she was holding the hand of a child dressed in the same attire. I was spellbound as she looked over her shoulder and smiled. I was never so infatuated and I wanted to follow her, but thought better of it when a guy came up to me.

“Laura can be yours for two Franklins.”

My first reaction was to deck him but I was curious. I looked at him and thought he must be her pimp. He was a good-looking dude who looked like he could handle himself.

“How long do I get?”

“Two hours from the time you enter the apartment.”

“What is it, one an hour?”

“You got it.”

“Suppose I want another hour?”

“Can’t do buddy. Two is the magic number.”

“You’re protecting her?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s with the little girl?”

“She’s Laura’s daughter.”

“Who takes care of her?”

“I’ll handle it, do you want to talk or do you want the best you ever had?”

I was game and before I could say yes, she was standing there holding my hand. She raised her glasses up over her forehead and I caught the full beauty of her eyes. She had me in the palm of her hand. This tough-assed guy was clay in hands. He flagged down a cab and we were off. I should have felt bad about the kid but I was anticipating the next two hours.

I was surprised how fast two hours can fly by. She most definitely was the best I ever had. I think I could even have fallen in love with her if she wanted it to happen. She didn’t want it to happen. I wasn’t going to make an ass of myself by asking her if she enjoyed it or when we might meet again. I played it cool and kissed her goodbye, leaving before her cab would pick her up. She smiled and returned my kiss as if she was interested. I knew better.

Frank and Paul, a friend of his, were at the apartment when I walked in, watching the Knicks trounce the Magic. I was still thinking of Laura, wishing I could see her again.

“T K, where have you been? I tried to contact you.”

“Oh shit, I turned my cell phone off. I looked at it and sure as shit, there were two messages. Are they from you?”

“Yea, but don’t worry it about it. Just wanted to know if you wanted to go out and eat with Paul and I.”

“I guess it’s too late.”

“Not really. Was she good?”

“What the hell is going on; you’ve been following me?”

“Calm down, its not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

”A detective is on your trail. A camera was in the lobby when you went into the hotel to see Jodi. He happens to be a friend of mine.”