Salamandra Book I: Pale Blue Flesh

Scene Three

New York City, New York.

Oscar Bulwark's thick fingers impatiently tore the lobster's tail from its body, then he crushed it in his hand until the shell cracked and split open to reveal the juicy meat within. He dug a thumb deep into the flipper end to push the meat out the opposite side, yanking off the dark vein that ran through it and tossing it aside on the table. There was nothing graceful about his actions. Table etiquette was the furthest thing from his mind, especially since he sat by himself, sprawled comfortably within a rounded, plush, high-back sofa bench. All other chairs had been removed from the table, so his four associates stood at a distance trying not to stare at the spectacle.

Bulwark splashed the exposed meat into a bowl of melted butter and began noisily gnawing at it, unconcerned that lobster juice and butter had spattered on the sleeves of his dress shirt and was running down his wide, square chin into the bib that hung from his neck. Periodically, one of the men would refill Bulwark's glass from the bottle of wine on the table, or cut him another wide slice from the loaf of artisan bread displayed on the wooden cutting board.

Another man entered from the side, whispered into the ear of one of the associates, then approached the large man feasting alone. The newcomer was in his thirties, tall and muscular, dressed sharply with polished leather shoes that featured exaggerated pointed toes. The high-rising, pompadour style of his jet black hair was notable, and the long, wide sideburns that framed his face made him look like a contemporary version of Elvis. A pronounced scar ran down the left side of his face, starting on his forehead, bisecting his neatly trimmed eyebrow, jumping over his eye, then resuming its obtrusive path midway down his cheek.

"Mr. Bulwark?" the pompadoured man asked. "You wanted to see me?"

Bulwark completely ignored the newcomer, not even looking up to acknowledge his presence at the table. Instead he picked up the lobster body and roughly pried the shell off to reveal the rib cage. He jammed his fingers in, squishing the meat away from the ribs, then dunked the dangling mess into butter and slurped it down. He continued poking around until he found the tomalley, sucked out the soft green paste, then let the meatless shell fall to the table.

"Siddown," Bulwark finally muttered, bobbing his head to the side as an invitation to the open spot directly beside him on the small bench. The newcomer hesitated a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the proposed tight seating arrangement, but finally sat down, carefully balancing on the edge of the cushion to maintain a respectable manly distance between their hips.

Bulwark tore off his bib and wiped his glistening chin with one of the large cloth napkins stacked neatly to his side, then tossed both onto the platter of lobster carcasses in front of him. Two waiters materialized out of thin air to begin clearing the table.

"Piper, how do you feel about a little trip to the Mediterranean?" he asked the pompadoured man seated nervously beside him.

"The Mediterranean?" the man replied. "Where the hell's that?"

Ignoring the question, Bulwark suddenly turned his attention to the waitstaff with a twisted expression of anger. One of the waiters had picked up the half-empty wine glass, prompting Bulwark to quickly reach out and grab the hand holding the glass.

"No, you dumb sonuvabitch! I'm not finished with that!" He squeezed the waiter's hand tightly, causing the man's grip on the glass to increase. The startled waiter's face took on an open-mouthed expression of pain and growing concern.

"S-sir?" the waiter managed to stammer. "You're...hurting me!"

"Never...take away...a man's...drink!" Bulwark hissed through clenched teeth, squeezing the man's hand even tighter. The waiter winced, trying to resist the pressure because of the fragile glass in his hand, but he clearly wasn't strong enough. With a disturbing sneer, Bulwark easily crushed the man's hand until the glass popped and shattered, then he released it. The waiter recoiled, his eyes wide in shock as he stared at the glass shards protruding from his tattered hand, blood and wine dribbling to the floor. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, the wooden cutting board and bread he had been holding in his other hand clattering to the floor beside him.

Bulwark exploded into ridiculously loud laughter. "Did he just faint? Tell me he didn't faint!" A few of the associates chuckled along as Bulwark laughed hysterically. "What a pussy!"

Still laughing, Bulwark fished into his suit jacket draped over the back of the sofa bench and pulled out an envelope which he handed to Piper sitting next to him.

"Here. First class tickets to Turkey for you and the boys."

Piper stared at the envelope in confusion. "Turkey? Are you serious, boss? That's a place?"

"Yeah, that's a place, numbnuts," Bulwark responded while playfully patting Piper on the cheek. Then, slowly and deliberately, he traced down Piper's scar with one of his fingers, forcing the eyelid to close as his finger ran over it. "I need you to pick something up; something very important to me. Very important."

Bulwark suddenly grabbed hold of one of Piper's long sideburns, causing the man to grimace. "I mean it, Piper. Don't screw this up!"

"No problem, boss," Piper responded quickly. "No problem at all." He got up from the table, popped the collar on his jacket, then ran a hand through the volume of hair that crowned his head. "Have I ever let you down, Mr. Bulwark?"

"No you haven't," Bulwark responded as he got up from the table himself, "which is a good thing for you, Piper." He held his arms out and two of his associates retrieved his suit jacket from the bench and helped him put it on. He shrugged into it, then reached up each arm to pull out the butter-stained sleeves of his shirt.

He stepped over the body of the waiter who was still laying on the floor, pausing for a glance at the unconscious man, then started laughing again as he walked on. "Friggin' pussy," he chuckled.