Thursday, August 24, 2006

A Night at The Underground

Victor examined himself again in the mirror. He was wearing his favourite black suit, the one that he had purchased, at considerable expense in Singapore. This matched perfectly with his black patent leather shoes. He looked at his shoes approvingly. Victor had a feminine love for footwear. He would agonize endlessly over the purchase of a pair of shoes and was willing to pay anything for the right one. This latest acquisition had been his pride. It was one of those patent leather slip-ons, which had a rather marked rectangular shape in the front. Then the length gradually contracted towards the heel to make that perfect, snug fit. When walking on granite floors, the kind found in the lobby of five star hotels, it made that perfectly rhythmic “tak tak” sound. While walking he felt an extra confidence, almost as if he wore the King of the Shoes” which commanded the less manlier shoes, especially those ugly laced ones, to step out of the way. As he caressed his silk tie, Victor gave one more look at the mirror and smiled, satisfied.

He hurried to The Underground, the most fashionable place in town. All the beautiful single (and the not-so-single, as well) ladies congregated here. The guy who owned the place was only known as Dr.G, the most powerful and influential boss in the city. After having made his money, he aspired for respectability and expected everyone to address him as Dr.G. It was not all without substance though. He was easily the most educated among all the criminal bosses, for he had graduated from college and that fact alone was enough to make his minions pronounce the title with awe.

The Underground was part of the city’s lore and in fact, it’s pride. Surprisingly, considering its popularity, or maybe, to emphasize it, The Underground had no sign. First time visitors went into the Italian restaurant nearby, called Il Azurri, only to see a sign on the door that read, “This is not the Underground. The entrance to the U is to the right”. The proprietor of Il Azurri was a tired Italian who grunted in reply to anything. He hated the Underground. Ever since it had opened, he had had at least fifteen visitors stepping in by mistake everyday and walking out. To minimize the damage to business he simply decided to put a sign up.

If the visitor looked right, he saw a small door with a lamp on top. The lamp’s light was obscured by the neon sign of the Il Azurri and as such, served no purpose. But there was a long line queuing up to enter the door. For the “door” was actually the door of an elevator which took visitors to the main club. This gave an “other-worldly” feel to the whole place. The Lift, as it was called, acted like a portal to a surreal, parallel universe and visitors felt a transformation even as they were in the lift. A lot of neat tricks were there to create the “wow” effect. When the lift arrived a sign flashed saying “Open Sesame”. The door itself had the word “Underground” placed in between the symbol for a Metro station. The interior of the lift was covered with mirrors, even the door. It had very little lighting except for a set of white circular orbs placed at the ceiling. Of course, to get into the Lift, one had to pay an obscenely high cover charge before the bouncer called up the lift. But that was part of “The Underground” experience. The Underground was not for every Tom. DICK or Harry as Dr.G was fond of saying.

The Lift took you to the first floor of the basement complex. As far as the visitor was concerned that was all he/she had access to. Below that were their offices, security section and other administrative departments. Dr.G ran a tight ship and everyone admired him for that. His office was the Basement 5th floor and it was the lowermost floor in the complex. Dr.G had almost not built the Underground due to financial difficulties. He had however persisted and the bet had paid off. The Underground was now the most happening place in the city and many influential people owed him favours on account of this place.

The floor which constituted “The Underground” was divided into two broad sections. A club called the “The Grinning Gringo” and a Casino. Though it had not been intended, over the years the club had fragmented itself into many sections depending on people’s preferences and regular visitors just knew the corners and headed there. The dancing floor was THE BIG ATTRACTION and something was always going on there. The seating consisted of plush leather chairs, all meant for two, and one felt a pleasant sinking feeling when seated on it. There were many junior bartenders who mixed the regular cocktails. They were scattered across the floor and once, Victor had counted at least ten such “mini-bars”. But there were some “Underground Specials” which were mixed at The Hub – a large circular table with neon lights. There the legendary bartenders held fort to connoisseurs and screaming girls, dispensing philosophy as well as alcohol. Other restaurants often advertised the availability of Underground Specials in theirs!

Victor got down near the back entrance and paid his taxi. He was an old-timer here and The Lift was just hype as far as he was concerned. He would do it if he had been with some chick from out of town, and that too, only if she had absolutely insisted on it. For some reason, the girls thought that the lift was cool and became all giggly and touchy once inside it.

He met Desmond at the entrance. Desmond was the Floor Manager here, one of the most powerful guys on the floor. Des was quite a character. A Nigerian who had immigrated here as a twelve year old he had started at the lowest of the criminal food chain, drug pushing and had gradually grown up to become one of Dr.G’s trusted lieutenants. However, one day he had just decided that he wanted an easy and respectable lifestyle and so, became the Floor Manager. For a Nigerian, he curiously spoke like an American black. Must be all the MTV, thought Victor. Des adored Dr.G and was constantly lamenting his own lack of education. “You know Vic, Dr. G went to yuniversity man. He read injineering, can you buhlieve that. All those ekwations man. Look at this place, this is going down in history as an injineering marvel baby”, he told Vic frequently. He was also immensely religious, wore a Rosemary bead and quoted the Bible after kicking a fellow out. To improve his education, he read ten words from the Advanced Oxford Dictionary daily. He also adored Tarantino and perhaps, that was the reason for the Bible quoting. Besides that he made it a point to go to the latest exhibitions and plays and read about them.

But Victor admired him for another reason. He was great with women and had introduced the former to some of the city’s gorgeous women. What they saw in him, Victor never understood. He was swarthy, head shaven, his white teeth shone against his face when he smiled. He told pretty ordinary jokes and laughed before the punch lines. In fact, often the joke was Des himself. Even the Floor Manager was a euphemism, for he was nothing more than a bouncer. But there it was, he was considered quite a Casanova by the girls. Anyway, fortuitously Des had taken a liking to him and Victor had grown in confidence after meeting him.

Des let him through the back door and teasingly asked, “You are alone? Well shoot me down, but is Victor Stephen Banks alone. Naaaw. Losing your touch brother!”
Victor laughed and said, ”Hmm… the fair maidens of our city do require my attention from time to time. How is the crowd today?”
“Good maan! But the girls are dying for their saviour. They only have Old Steve to swoon over. Godspeed Vic and deliver them from undeserved punishment”.
“Surely”, guffawed Victor as he stepped in through the kitchen.
“Good to see you Vicky”, said Roger the head chef. Victor nodded back.
“Mr. V, Alone? Am I dreaming?” ribbed Tom the waiter. Victor chuckled. It was good to be here. “Tom, I’ll be at the O.D. The usual, please”.

Victor went and settled into a relatively secluded corner of the club. He called it the “Observation Desk” for it gave the best view of the floor. The usual visitors were there.
As Victor sat there sipping the Gin and Tonic, he noticed Ol’ Steve. Ol’ Steve was not old at all. In fact, he was a recently retired star swimmer. He dressed dashingly, if a bit gaudily, and always sat three in the seat for two. He had a square jaw and a striking nose and was handsome. But he was quite a bore and his laugh sounded like the neigh of a horse. Every incident found a resonance in the swimming pool for him and some of his metaphors were torturous. But he was an agreeable bloke as long as he didn’t speak.

Suddenly, a smile caught his eye. He smiled back heartily realizing it was Natasha Robinson, the wife of the Mayor. She was easily Victor’s favourite woman. She had beautiful, expressive eyes and dimples appeared whenever she smiled. Despite leading a high profile life she possessed an air of charming innocence. Even at that age, the area around her dimples turned pink if she heard a lewd joke. Her gestures were extremely delicate, feminine and graceful. She had full red lips and flawless, smooth skin. She wore little or no make up but beat all the made up dolls hands down. Even on that day, she had simply tied her brunette hair into a bun and was wearing a long, flowing cream gown with pink hibiscuses on it. She was entertaining some friends and was quite immersed in her conversation.

Sipping his whiskey, Victor realized that they were playing the latest bubblegum pop hit. Irritated, he noted that this must be brought to Des’ notice. Hardly, the music for men, he grunted to himself. Then Victor caught sight of a lady fidgeting constantly on a barstool. She was talking to Briggs, the owner of the biggest bookie house in the country. Briggs was a curious man. He had no neck. He looked as if God had blown two balloons, one small, one large and stuck them together to create him. But there was always a look of merriment in his eyes and he was quite popular with the girls. However, the genial exterior masked an inner ruthlessness. In fact, he was as powerful and feared in his trade as Dr.G was in his.

The lady was constantly wiggling in the stool. Victor noted approvingly that she had an ample derriere. The stool was quite small and tall for her and her legs didn’t quite reach up to the floor. To balance herself she had to carefully place her heeled footwear on the ledge of the stool. It must have been quite a task, chuckled Victor to himself, but she was too much into The Game of Seduction to care. She was wearing an orange sleeveless shirt and tight black pants that accentuated her figure. Victor couldn’t catch her eyes but he was interested. He saw her smiling and flirting with Briggs. There was something familiar about her profile, the suggestive bending of the shoulder and the seductive smile. Victor saw that Briggs was really trying hard and had taken out a Cuban cigar. Briggs was a notorious miser and this showed how desperate he was and that she was a master player to have brought him to this level. Continuing the game, Briggs pushed her hair back with his ugly, chubby fingers and caressed her ears. She seemed to blush but Victor realized it was too perfect to be real. Then he noticed a mole right at the center of her left cheek. He got up with a start and gasped.

Could it possibly be Alexandra?

(to be continued…)

(The concluding part can be found here)


Naresh said...

Brilliant descriptions da.
strong characters...
planning to write a series eh?

pseud wonly.
and welcome to the vettibloggers gumbal.

Ashish said...

Hmmm... N characters... hope this is heading for something of reasonable length atleast...

I find that it's always easier to write from one's personal experiences... The Tokyo effect is quite clear in that respect :)

Waiting for the next chapter...

Arun 'Randi' said...

aagaaa... awesome post machi! waiting for sequels... i remember this name though 'alexandra' -the wife of the owner or some big guy there???

Raytracer said...

Ha ha... nice read. Wonder what's coming up. But from the looks of things, I expect the story to stretch more than just 2 posts.

themiddler said...

Thanks da.
Fourth year is beautifully vetti if not for the sudden spurts of work!


Yeah, looks inevitable may head for quite some length.
Agree on the personal experience thing. Lots of it is inspired by things I saw at Tokyo.

themiddler said...


Dei good memory da. The waitress in that Rock Factory pub.


Thanks for stopping by. Your blog at Wordpress is good da!