American Entertainment 1978: New York Night Fever

Chapter 120 Bud like you

Behind Sid, Nancy was even more neurotic and sarcastic. In that unsettlingly sharp voice, she said, "Hey, Richie Rich, can you buy us an ice cream? Or are you going to sing hymns to a white boss?"

Michael was completely stunned, not knowing what to do, his eyes filled with confusion and innocence.

"Get out of my way." Bodyguard Jason stepped forward, shoving the two men with his thick arms.

"Don't fucking touch us, you darkie!" Nancy screamed, slapping Jason's hand.

This word is even more vicious than "nigger," belonging to the kind of term from the colonial era, carrying a deep-seated sense of superiority.

Jason's muscles tensed instantly, but he managed to suppress his anger and refrain from attacking.

Even the black onlookers showed hostility towards Nancy.

These two scoundrels seemed oblivious and continued to provoke Michael.

"I heard you're a great dancer? Show us! Or do you only know the kind of dances you do for white mothers?"

Nancy burst into shrill laughter from the side: "He looks like a sissy! Sid, look at his hair, it's like a permed carpet!"

Sid spat a thick wad of phlegm into the sand at his feet, staring intently at Michael, waiting to see if he dared to turn back.

answer.

Jason turned and gave Zeke a pleading look: "Zeke—"

Zeke stepped forward, standing between the two: "Sid. Don't cause trouble."

Upon seeing Zeke appear, Nancy paused briefly, then immediately gave him the middle finger: "Sid! This is Zeke Rossi! The kid who insulted you on the radio and in the newspapers."

"Put that finger down, or I'll break it for you." Michelle squinted at Nancy's raised middle finger as if it were something dirty. She took a step forward, her aura no less imposing.

"Oh yeah? What can you do to me?"

Sid recognized Zeke now, and he immediately roared, his voice like sandpaper scraping: "So you're the one who said I'm trash? What do you know about punk, you hothouse flower? Punk is written in blood, your stuff is made of sugar! Do you know how many people are starving behind that smiling face of yours? Hypocrite!"

"I advise you not to make a big deal out of this; this is Brooklyn." Zeke was too lazy to explain; he knew it was mostly tabloids taking things out of context and stirring up trouble.

He shrugged. He had the upper hand in terms of numbers. Most Italians came from large families, and with the younger members of Tino's and the old man's families, there were more than a dozen young people. The dentist was right there and could take care of this poisonous insect with needle marks on his hands at any time.

"You think I'm afraid of you?"

Sid suddenly pulled a folding knife from his pocket and snapped it out, the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

Upon seeing the knife being used, some timid tourists immediately began screaming and scattering, causing a brief period of chaos.

"Try moving." Although Zeke's heart was racing, he knew he couldn't back down now. He stared intently into Sid's eyes, trying to intimidate him with his presence.

Sid didn't seem to really intend to stab anyone; he seemed to be just enjoying the process of creating fear.

He suddenly turned the blade towards the hot dog in Michael's hand, slashed it sharply, and the hot dog fell to the ground, covered in sand.

"This is your music, garbage!"

Sid laughed wildly, then put his arm around Nancy and prepared to leave.

"This idiot is asking for it—" Zeke rolled his eyes.

Turning his head, the dentist understood what he meant. He strode over, grabbed Sidela like a chick, and quickly removed the folding knife from his hand.

"You like playing with knives?" The "dentist" punched him hard in the mouth, and Sid's mouth was full of blood, with teeth flying everywhere.

"Now you can write something in your blood and show it to us."

The "dentist" continued to taunt as he punched, delivering a punch and a taunt, which was very satisfying.

Nancy screamed wildly, but no one dared to intervene. Jason quickly pinned her down, rendering her immobile.

"Are all these punks brainless?" Zeke frowned at Sid's fighting ability. Is that all?

"I feel like I could take him down—" Michelle raised her fist, looking disdainful.

"Forget it, he's carrying a knife."

After the dentist finished venting, Sid could barely stand and collapsed to the ground groaning, missing a front tooth.

The crowd laughed and joked, and some onlookers recognized the infamous Sex Pistols members and cheered loudly.

"Go back to England, you trash! America doesn't welcome you!"

"That little guy dares to start trouble, 'Dentist,' well done."

Even the staff at Nathan's Hot Dogs shop came out and gave the dentist a high five in celebration.

The dentist turned to Zeke and asked, "Zick, what are you planning to do with this kid?"

This guy brandished a knife at people in crowded public places, created panic, and committed racial discrimination. It wouldn't be difficult to send him to the police station or even put him in jail.

Despite its numerous internal racial issues, the NYPD has no reason to turn a blind eye to white people—especially British drug addicts and punks—who openly use colonial-era N-word variants to insult Black people and cause trouble with knives.

But Zeke didn't want to make things too complicated and let this mess ruin his weekend.

Furthermore, Motown certainly doesn't want to see one of the lead actors, Michael, being relentlessly attacked by the media, and Lauren's father probably doesn't want his daughter's name to appear on the Brooklyn Police Department report either.

"How about we dig a hole and bury him? That'll teach him a lesson. After all, we're not bad people." He looked at the beach around him and saw a few teenagers playing with shovels, and casually suggested an idea.

Michelle, Lauren, Greg, Camlann, and even Michael couldn't help but chuckle: "That's a great idea."

Zeke paid $20 to buy the half-dug hole from a child.

The crowd hurriedly carried Sid inside, leaving only his head sticking out.

Sid continued spewing vulgarities: "—Bastard—My woman will dig me out—I'll slit your throat in the dark—tell your guys to watch out for the shadows—"

Nobody paid him any attention. Everyone who witnessed the earlier conflict could see that he was just a coward who was all bark and no bite.

The group left laughing and sat down on the edge of the wooden boardwalk by the sea.

"Dentist, are you famous here? So many people know you?" Greg couldn't help but ask.

"Of course, I started working here when I was 6 or 7 years old, so you could say I grew up here."

"Wow, what do you do?"

"Selling ice cream or moving deck chairs on the beach, I can earn tens of dollars a day on the beach on busy days."

"Is there anything else fun here?" Kamran pressed.

"There's plenty of fun to be had, but this is the most fascinating place," the dentist said with a sly grin, looking down at his feet.

Everyone was completely bewildered. The dentist continued, "We'd sneak under the boardwalk and peek up the skirts of passing girls. If we were lucky, we'd catch them without underwear—"

Michelle, Lauren, and the other girls immediately laughed and cursed, "Please, dentist, you're a pervert—"

"Hahaha." The "dentist" shook his head, looking through the gap at the vague figures below. "But this trick won't work now. Drug addicts or young couples looking for a quickie, everyone wants to sneak in and have some fun together."

After observing for a while, the group found that it was indeed the case.

Jason, having finished cleaning up the mess, walked over and solemnly thanked Zeke: "Zike, thank you so much, otherwise I might have lost my job today."

"It's nothing. We're friends. I picked Michael up to go out today, and ensuring his safety is my responsibility."

"I have to take Michael back. I just contacted the company, and Mr. Gordy is worried that reporters might come," Jason said.

Michael was a little disappointed, but he still got up.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Michael, there aren't any celebrities here today," Camlann said. "Why are your bodyguards so insistent?"

"Feel sorry..."

Jason and Michael apologized with smiles, and Zeke didn't stop them. He knew that if the story of those two scoundrels attracted reporters, it wouldn't be good for Michael or Motown.

"See you later, buddy," Zeke said, extending his hand. "Let's hang out sometime next time."

Michael reached out and gave Zeke a high five, his eyes sincere: "See you later, Zeke. It's great to have a buddy like you—"

Way up, way up

(Upward, upward)

Way up to the sky

(Soaring straight into the sky)

Wheneverybodyhereissneakinginandgettinghigh

(When everyone sneaks in here, they're having a blast.)

Way up, way up

(Upward, upward)

Way up to the moon

(Up to the moon)