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Isaiah Jones vs the Sea (A 21st Century Odyssey)

Big Dawgz*

“If you’re havin’ girl problems, I feel bad for you, son

I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain’t one.”

-Jay Z / 99 Problems

“You can’t bring dogs into the restaurant.” The middle-aged bottle blonde maître d’ said as soon as they entered the restaurant’s lobby.

Sybil looked at the chihuahua with the white couple at a table behind the woman. She silently ran the FRS (facial recognition software) and conducted a background search on the hostess while Aeon and Penny argued with the woman.

“Isaiah is on the spectrum, and Mau Mau is his emotional support canine,” Aeon said with a straight face, knowing what the woman was up to and matching her energy. She was about to take off her jewelry and slap the woman when Sybil handed her her phone.

“Oh my, I see,” she said as she read the woman’s files now displayed on the cyborg’s iPhone.

“As his attorney, Penny said, slipping into legal combat mode, I must take this opportunity to inform you that we are not leaving until we see you trot over there and tell that couple behind you the same thing, and when they leave, we will leave Karen.”

“My name is not Karen. The woman sneered indignantly. It’s Becky.”

Aeon, reading the screen on Sybils’ phone, spoke next.

“That is true, her name is Rebecca Annabelle Dixon, age 47, GED, no college, IQ 89.7, divorced white female, mother of two grade school-aged children. No savings, 20k for the double D-cups, another 10k for the rhinoplasty. Her husband, Walter, divorced her 5 years ago after falling in love with his cellmate, currently serving a 20-year sentence after being convicted of seditious conspiracy in 2022. I’ll stop there before it gets really sad.”

While the girls argued with the hostess, Isaiah snapped his fingers twice then point down. Mau Mau immediately came to heel, then sat on the floor just to his left, silent as a sphynx. He pulled out his cellphone and placed a call to his PA, Mister Virgil Elinam Boateng’s esquires. He glanced at his Rolex. It was 5:30pm here, so it would be 12:30 in the AM in Accra Bay.

“Good evening, Isaiah. The Mfantse man on the phone answered with his Cambridge-polished Ghanaian accent. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have you on speaker at the moment, Virgil. I was calling to inquire about a restaurant. How much to purchase the Bugsy and Meyers Steakhouse located in the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada?”

“Let me contact accounting just a moment.” They could hear the sound of Mister Boateng furiously typing away on his laptop while they waited.

“You can buy the restaurant for only 10 million dollars, but the bean counters want you to know that it is and I quote -“a piss poor investment and unlikely to be a profitable.” So, they can not in good conscience approve of such an extravagant purchase.”

“Oh, I guess we can go somewhere else to eat, thank you, Mister Boateng’s.”

“However, they have also informed me that since it is located in the oldest hotel on the Las Vegas strip, it would be a worthwhile investment if you were to purchase the hotel instead, and that would include the aforementioned eatery with your 1 billion cedi purchase. Shall I have them move forward with the acquisition of the Flamingo?”

The maître d’ as well as everyone within 10 feet of them overheard the conversation.

“Yes, have them buy the hotel immediately.”

“Consider it done. Will there be anything else, your excellency?” Mister Boateng asked, intuiting the situation without needing all of the particulars.

“Contact our friends in Havana and inform Naomi that we need to hire a new maître d’.”

A moment after Isaiah finished speaking with Mister Boateng, while Becky stood stunned into silence, her phone rang.

It was Thomas Reeg, the CEO of Caesars Entertainment, the owner of the Flamingo as well as 57 other casinos. Sybil had been livestreaming the entire altercation along with several other guests already seated, as well as others who came in after them and were standing behind Isaiah, Aeon, Penny, Sybil, and Mau Mau. The CEO’s PA had been watching the debacle livestream and, foreseeing a PR disaster, quickly notified her employer.

“Would you care to give me a tour of the establishment after we finish our meal?” He asked after a visibly shaken Becky hung up her phone.

The word had spread swiftly to the restaurant’s staff as she led them to their table. By the time the waitress arrived with their charcuterie board and a bottle of Dom, the story was already interrupting regularly scheduled programming on every major news network. Penelope laughed as she watched the CNN, MSNBC, and Reuters reports of the story on the muted screen on her iPhone. Sybil watched as the news of the incident spread across the internet, the video of the altercation already being shared and streamed on every social media platform.

Aeon kissed Izzy. “I was this close to slapping the taste out of that bitches mouth, but what you just did, damned. I mean, you effectively bought her. That was gangsta’ babe.”

“Soooo…When are you going to fire her?” Penny asked impatiently. Laughter danced in her blue eyes.

“I am not going to have her fired, the woman has a near ‘Sling Blade’ IQ and two children at home. I will let her think about what she has done overnight, and tomorrow, have her transferred to the janitorial staff.”

“Damn, you know Izzy, Penny said with a sly grin, you would have been a total bad ass back in this town’s mob heyday. You don’t scream or cuss, but you have a mean streak that’s kinda’ scary. I was with Aeon and ready to kick her ass. But what you just did. That is just diabolical; the poor girl will need therapy for the rest of her life. You took what little power she thought she had and left her standing there looking like a fucking moron.”

“I have crunched the numbers, and according to the latest metrics, this place will see a 31.4 % ROI / return on investment annually, as a result of the buzz generated by its new ownership,” Sybil said as she tracked the media attention as well as the markets on her iPhone.

Penny raised her glass of Dom Pérignon. “I told you this place was going to be fun. To Vegas, Baby.”

“Hear, hear. To Vegas.” They said as they raised their glasses and toasted Sin City.

Mau Mau, the 145 pound midnight colored Cane Corso, sat quietly on the floor next to Sybil, silently observing, waiting for someone to pass him an hors d’oeuvre.

“Now once upon a time not too long ago

A nigga like myself had to strong-arm a ho

This is not a ho in the sense of havin’ a pussy

But a pussy havin’ no goddamn sense, try and push me

I try to ignore him, talk to the Lord

Pray for him, but some fools just love to perform

…If you’re havin’ girl problems, I feel bad for you, son

I got 99 Problems but a bitch ain’t one”

Jay-Z / 99 Problems

[-About the author:

JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals: Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, TX.]