Simony Chiavary 2.5 "The In-Between Move" Episode 5

Episode 5 "Sins of the Father"

     A stranger in passing watches as a young man orders a drink from the bar at 8:00am in the morning. This same stranger becomes irritated as he over hears that same young man’s cell phone conversation. The young man brags about his lust filled night before with a fiery young Brazilian predator. They’re sitting a mere one bar stool space away from one another but they are worlds apart, 19 years apart in age to be exact. For some 19 years is a literal lifetime. So as a young man hangs up his phone a grown man feels compelled to talk to him. “You think you’re a man because you've ordered a drink at 8:15 in the morning? Real men don’t kiss and tell” the grown man says to the young one. “OK sir, 2 things, 1; I don’t believe I know you and 2; I don’t believe it’s any of your damned business” The grown man looks at the youth as he speaks with a controlled rage behind his eyes. He then replies “It is my business because the young girl you were upstairs with is my daughter you disrespectful little cock sucker” Nervously the young man stumbles over his words as he tries to apologize. The grown man makes the younger one that much more nervous by telling him “relax; if I wanted to hurt you, it would have happened already” He added an assurance to him saying that as long as he shuts up and walks away he will not get his throat sliced open from ear to ear. The grown man then pays for the young man’s drink and watches as the youth speed walks out of the bar and then the hotel.

    
     “It’s a shame that the youth is waisted on the young” the stranger says to the bar tender as he brings back his change. “He’s old enough to drink, die for our country and make dumb mistakes” the bar tender says back in reply. “We were young once too you know. Can I get you anything?” he adds. “I’ll have a single malt scotch if you’ve got it” says the stranger. “I’ve got one that I know is smooth partner, I just need to see some I.D. it’s the law now” The stranger hands him an I.D. that’s as fake as a 9 dollar bill. To make matters worse, this particular bar tender is a 15 year vet that has seen every fake I.D. known to man. Yet the drivers license is flawless in its forgery and fools his trained eye as it has every policeman that has ever laid their eyes on it. The bar tender picks the card up from off of the counter and raises his right eyebrow. “Bendito Chiavary, that’s a wickedly cool name” the bar tender looks up and says. “Please call me Ben” says the stranger who down plays the bar tenders enthusiasm. The bar tender continues his gaze at his I.D. and continues “Looks like someones celebrating a birthday today too!” the fooled bar tender shouts to the other patrons within an earshot of his voice. “This is on the house” he adds as he places a goblet of his smoothest scotch directly in front of him.

      It is now 8:20am on September 11^Th2001 as Bendito Chiavary celebrates his 40^Th birthday in the loneliest way he could have imagined. Inside of a bar that resides in the lobby of an airport hotel. You would never know it from his face alone. The lines in his brow are not expressive. His eyes, nose and mouth tell no stories of courage, trail or failure for that matter. He has the face of a man you and I have passed by without noticing all of our lives. However this is not the type of man that needs our validation. His ability to blend into a crowd is another one of his clever gifts. This gift has allowed him to be the most successful drug traffickers in the eastern United States. So much so that he is a living ghost know only to men of power in underground circles. Police know of his constant flow of product into their respective districts, yet remain unaware of this disciplined man’s existence. As he sits in his lone bar stool, he takes slow sip after slow sip. This scotch is a potion that burns smooth as he swallows. The warmth makes him wonder how long he will have to wait before the object of his affection comes down out of her hotel room. He hopes she stops inside the bar so that he may speak to her.

      He has followed her around since she came to this country from Brazil as a teen. He is not happy with her reckless lifestyle but what father would be. He is most saddened by the fact that because of his chosen profession, his only begotten daughter must never know who he is. A relationship with her would mean trouble for them both. Since Simony is wanted by the police she will no doubtingly bring unwanted attention to his quiet but lucrative business. Since he has been so successful for so long he would put her life in danger by adding a laundry list of new enemies to her list. Yet on this day which marks that of his birth some 40 years ago, he has an overwhelming desire to meet and help his flesh and blood out of the corner she has painted herself into. The clock ticks on and there is no sign of her as he watches the elevators and front doors of the lobby from his seat at the bar.

      It’s his daughter Simony and her eyes are fixated on the television as well. She asks the bar tender if the scotch is good, he then smiles and says “ask your neighbor” She gazes at the side of Ben’s face but he doesn’t turn to face her. He knows that if he appears too anxious to meet her or greet her she will be gone. So he continues to watch the black smoke bellow from the tower. Simony always sizes a man up before speaking first. Yet Ben’s side profile only makes her curiously wonder why the lines of his face are so familiar to her. She has never had a man ignore her before which makes her curiosity about this gentleman peek. “What’cha drinking?” she asks in a seductive voice. He then answers without looking at her. She tells the bartender she’ll have the same and then looks at him again. “I know it’s early as hell but I like an early morning drink” Simony says as Ben finally turns to face her. The moment they look at one another creates warmth and clarity in midst of confusion and chaos.

      The time is now 9:03am and an unspoken conversation between familiar strangers gets interrupted by what is seen on the television. The whole bar watches in horror as the 2nd plane hits the South tower. Shock, disbelief and pain fill the bar in the time it takes a man to say god’s name. The moment has Simony out of character. She trusts no man but she holds Ben’s arm if she knew he was worthy. “Oh my god” she says as she not only wonders what to do, but wonders why she feels comfortable around this man. He is also comforted by the slightest affection from his daughter. Even though this is one of America’s darkest hours, this is the best day of his life. He is with his own flesh and blood and should the world end like everyone in this bar thinks it is, at least he is with his little angel. Then the TV tells tails of mixed reports of other planes hijacked with one headed to DC. His wisdom speaks volumes as he realizes the inevitable. They must leave the city right now for a number of reasons. These terror attacks may cause the whole airport to shut down with the police not letting any one in or out without searching everyone. The police will not only arrest his daughter that’s currently on the run but they might also search the limousine he’s driving. If that happens they might find the ten kilos of cocaine stashed inside of the gas tank. They’ve never searched his limo before because of the diplomatic plates he has. However all bets are off when a country’s at war.

      “The longer we wait by this television, the harder it’s going to be to get the hell out of this airport” says Ben. He knows full well she doesn’t have a car or the resources to make an immediate move. True to her opportunistic nature she puts her feline survival game in play. “Are you offering me a ride?” Ben can only smile at her as he nods before escorting her out to his car. As they both walk past a growing crowd of panic ridden people Ben focuses. He puts on his driving blazer and his driving cap and in doing so he looks that much more unassuming. “Are you a taxi driver?!? Simony says thinking that she has no opportunity to rob him of money if he doesn’t have any. Then her frown turns upside down in the parking lot. Jackpot! She thinks to herself as he opens the rear door to a pearl black Rolls Royce Phantom limousine. They are both happy for the moment. She has found a 1^stclass ticket away from the police and he gets to have the birthday gift of a lifetime. He smiles as she approaches him to enter the car. As she sits her lovely frame gently in between the wood grain paneling while resting her frame on the butter soft leather, he says one thing only.

Let's Ride…

Poet's Pursuit of Pleasure (Intimate Rivalz) Book II Remix...

Prelude

Spiritually, we are all connected to one another by cosmic threads. These threads are filled with emotions. Threads filled with love are thick and strong. Threads filled with hate are weak and easily severed. No one else seems to see them but they all seems so clear to me. I confess that 20/20 vision was not always the case for my insight. My youth painted blurry pictures like a rain drop on an eyelash. With the water mixing colors that at first, didn’t appear to be harmonious like orange and gray. Yet, in the blink of an eye, age and wisdom cleaned my lenses. Maturity helped me bring the connecting threads of all relationships sharply into focus. Some are easy to spot, like the damp leafs of fall on a rained over road. Others hide from us in plain sight, connected by threads that are as thin as the peach fuzz on your skin. Blink again and you’ll miss it, and that could be costly. For some threads act like the trip wire of a boo bee trap for lost souls. They make situations explosive and optimal for falls from grace for those who wander too close to the edge. I will not be the one who is unaware of his surroundings or unaware of the gravity of these imminent moments. Stakes are high. I am reminded nightly through the repetition of a dream. I have a vision of a woman every night since Amber’s marriage proposal. Her image comes to me late in the twilight hours in the form of a mistress, in love with the sound of her own voice. Her energy always feels like that calm before the storm, that love before the hate and that dusk before the dark. I look deep into her eyes, which are both as black as the dessert’s oil. I look at the blood red skin that covers her amazing body as well as the number 13 that is tattooed to the left of her neck. The only piece of clothing that covers her crimson flesh is my favorite button down shirt and a pair of steep stiletto shoes. She tells me that she’s the spirit of competition and her name is Rivalry. She is no demon but she looks like one, reminding me of a spider weaving silk where the breeze lies still. Like a one night stand remembered for a lifetime, we know each other by a shared memory. This memory involves rivalry carving the palm of my right hand with one of her many long black finger nails. She begins where the dark lines of love and life meet in the folds south of my fingers. Blood rises slowly through my cuts that now glow red in the shape of a five point pentagram. I felt no pain in this dream, but I felt something. It felt like one feels after hearing bad news. It made my body tense as one does in the seconds that precede a car crash. It is at that very moment that I wake from the dream, every single time. I am well aware that dreams often coincide with whatever plagues our subconscious. Like a dream about drowning may mean one is troubled about having enough time. Or a dream about flying may embody a yearning of one’s freedom. I am not well versed in the arts of dream interpretation, so I will seek help from someone who is. What I do know is this. My inner circle including myself consists of 5 people. So I’m positive the five point star represents them. What I cannot figure out is why the number 13 is on her neck. My gut tells me that each member of my circle will have to survive a rivalry with the other 4, however the math on that is 10 rivalries not 13. I will go with my gut on this one and ignore the math. “New levels new devils” as Levi would say. We all have to survive this phase of the game if we are to get to the next echelon. My countdown will begin with the number on her neck that’s associated with good luck and bad. Hopefully, when the countdown is done, my family will still have its bond intact. It seems as though our work is cut out for us. If Rivalry is true to her name then she has the power to stroke an ego with one hand and turn friends to foes with the other. Her spirit can slice through the connecting fibers of any family’s blood kin. I also know that a family that goes through such a trail may become stronger or estranged. I do not want to bid a farewell to yet another circle. It makes you harbor feelings of contempt towards each other as well as jeopardize the family’s legacy. Surviving the storm is only the half. Reconciliation afterward can be just as painful if you realize that what you have after the storm is not what it was. I don’t believe the sexy red woman named Rivalry is a demon simply because she’s not all bad. She tests us by speaking opposition with parted lips whenever people elevate while unified. For those who listen without fear, rivalry is healthy and remains one of the true ways to build character. For those who listen fearfully become easily consumed with selfish tendencies. Some argue to win instead of debating to understand. Some find themselves proven wrong or unjust but stay consumed with vanity and saving face. Some find themselves void of humility. Some are so consumed with victory they have forgotten why their war was declared. This is a shame because it’s supposed to be good now. I have captured my dream, defeated my enemies and found a goddess who want’s to marry. But all of this beautiful energy is new and untested. The odds against my success will increase proportionally to the success I try to obtain. So for my circle, my soul and the love of my life, the road ahead will be difficult to navigate…  

              Poet's Pursuit of Pleasure

(Intimate Rivalz)

The Pentagram- symbol to earth-centered religions throughout history as well as too many contemporary pagans, it represents the feminine spirit or force, the cosmos or spiritualism Mother Earth, and a sacred space." The five-pointed star is representative of the four primal elements (earth, air, fire and water,) and traditionally a fifth, called spirit. The circle binds them together to create life

 Levi Sinkler - Spirit; quintessential principle of conscious life; the vital rinciple in humans, animating the body or mediating between body and soul.

Anthone “Graffiti” Bleu - Fire; a purifying, masculine energy, associated with the South, and connected to strong will and energy. Fire both creates and destroys, and symbolizes the fertility of the God. Fire can heal or harm, and can bring about new life or destroy the old and worn.

Amber Love Smith - Earth; Connected to the North, Earth is considered the ultimate feminine element. The Earth is fertile and stable, associated with the Goddess.

Fierra Jackson - Water; Water is a feminine energy and highly connected with the aspects of the Goddess. Used for healing, cleansing, and purification, Water is related to the West, and associated with passion and emotion.

Tiffanie Tai - Wind; element of the East, connected to the soul and the breath of life. If you’re doing a working related to communication, wisdom or the powers of the mind, Air is the element to focus on.

 Quiet Storm.

His Story

The rain falls lightly as I park my bike near the entrance of the cemetary. I feel how tight my neck and back are while removing my damp fogged helmet. Nature seems to welcome the cleared field of the lifeless in an embrase into her belly. Maple trees tower over everything man made. There is stillness about the air that suggests the spirits are curious. The iron gates supported by stone are open but not inviting. The water from the misty rain stains every stone with running tear patterns. The clouds over head hang motionless as if they enjoy my company. I tilt my head back and face the heavens with my eyes closed for a time before starting down the widened path.

 I find myself in upstate NY headed north speeding through one quiet town after the other. Asphalt races beneath my feet, lonely and unforgiving. I greet it with a hot kiss from two rubber lips. My heart races like a plane down the runway as I explore the unfamiliar. The early morning rain failed to wash away the colors of the changing leafs of autumn  Shades of burgundy, red, and yellow combine to make a unique tone of orange. The mango colored tree tops kiss the still gray skies. Now those colors seem more harmonious than before because it surrounds me. Even the golden leafs on the gray pavement remind me of my vision. The symbol flashes again in my minds third eye as I pop the clutch and twist back the throttle  I bring the front wheel slightly off of the wet pavement as I speed ahead to resolve some unfinished business…


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