"Get out of my bar, you frigging Indian bitch, as I told you before, we're closed," said Bill Hughes, owner of Hughes Pub in the west end of Winnipeg, Manitoba. The towering, silver-haired and blue-eyed barkeep glared angrily at the short, round Aboriginal woman who stood defiantly before him, simply refusing to back down. She'd been coming around the bar for a while now, always getting in trouble with other patrons, and Bill had seen enough of her.
In drinking establishments across the breadth of Canada and indeed the world over, there is always that one patron who doesn't understand the meaning of last call. That one person who thinks he or she could hang around even after the bar, pub or restaurant declared themselves closed for the night. People like that are the reason why such establishments have taken to hiring bouncers. Bill Hughes had seen enough of these people to last him a lifetime...
As Bill Hughes confronted the Aboriginal woman, he was well aware of the fact that he had to tread carefully, even though he and the unruly woman were the only ones on the premises. Once upon a time, Bill wouldn't have had to deal with a hard-drinking Aboriginal woman in his bar who refused to leave. In the good old days, the frigging Indians were kept out of Canada's big cities and in the frigging reservations. Now, thanks to those Liberal namby-pamby types, the damn Indians were everywhere!
The new Mayor of Winnipeg was an Indian, or Aboriginal, as such people had taken to calling themselves in recent times. Bill Hughes didn't give a rat's ass about local politics. He typically voted conservative, since the Liberals wanted to change his beautiful homeland of Canada into a third world nation by inviting every type of outsider to immigrate and risk changing the nation's character.
Oh, well, it is what it is. Let the Liberal elitists do what they want, they'd get voted out of power soon enough. Bill knew that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and his diverse cabal wouldn't last. As far as Bill was concerned, everything was business as usual in Winnipeg. He had a business to run, and this meant sometimes dealing with undesirables...like this feisty Indian dame here. Bill considered himself an old-fashioned gentleman, but he didn't believe in letting dames with unladylike mannerisms walk all over him. No sir, that simply wouldn't fly...
"Fuck out of here with that bullshit," Helena Durocher said angrily, and she got in Bill's face and shoved him. Grunting in frustration, Bill grabbed her and proceeded to drag the troublesome little Aboriginal woman toward the door. Normally, Bill wouldn't be handling such matters himself, but Troy and Evan, his favorite bouncers, both had the night off. The bar wasn't doing too well and Bill's place was understaffed, leaving him to take care of certain unpleasant tasks all by himself.
"Get your hands off of her, dude, that's no way to treat a lady," came a voice, and Helena and Bill both looked up as a tall, dark-skinned man stepped forward, having quietly entered the bar moments before. The man who spoke was clad in a Black leather jacket over a muscle shirt and blue jeans, and an Atlanta Hawks tuque covered his head. There was a look of barely concealed fury on his smooth-shaven face, and his full lips were pursed in anger. Balling his fists, the stranger glared angrily at Bill Hughes.
"Mind your own business, boy, this isn't any of your concern," Bill Hughes said angrily, and he let go of Helena and squared off against the stranger. The other man closed the gap between them and swung his fists, connecting swiftly with Bill's jaw. The bar owner was sent sprawling to the floor, landing flat on his ass. Bill lay there, eyes closed, knocked out cold as if he'd taken a hit from world heavyweight boxing champion Anthony Joshua himself.
"Damn, dude, you knocked him out cold, who are you?" Helena asked, and she looked up at the tall, dark-skinned stranger after nudging the bar owner with her foot. The towering Black man looked at the fallen bar owner, then at the woman standing before him, her mouth agape with astonishment over what he'd just done. I wouldn't want to make this one mad, Helena thought warily as she looked the stranger up and down.
"Dammit, I just came here to pee, this fool attacked you and I just reacted, I'm Antoine Dwyer," the burly Black man said, flashing Helena a bright smile and extending his hand. Helena blinked, surprised by the man's manner. Indeed, this brother was behaving as though knocking out redneck bar owners in their own establishments was something he did everyday. As in no big deal...
"Well, Antoine, I'm Helena, thanks for your help but we got to skedaddle before the Winnipeg Police Service gets here," Helena said, and she looked at him, shook her head and made a mad dash for the door. Seconds later, Antoine did the same. He ran for a few blocks, and then began walking normally as he made his way back to the Fort Garry Hotel on Broadway Street. A native of Atlanta, Georgia, this was Antoine's first trip to Winnipeg, but to a brother, the police in general were something best avoided. Whether in Canada or America, some things never change...
Helena Durocher took a cab home, to the North End of Winnipeg, also known as Indian Town. She got home, took a shower and sat on the couch, taking a few calming breaths while sipping tea. On TV, a multi-ethnic group of Marvel superheroes including Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Iron Fist and Daredevil fought against various enemies in the Netflix mini-series The Defenders. Helena liked Luke Cage and Jessica Jones, they made for one hot couple, but the storyline wasn't that great. Nevertheless, it distracted her from her current problems...
"Who was that guy?" Helena asked herself, thinking about the stranger, Antoine, who stormed into Hughes bar, and rescued her by knocking out a certain redneck. The dude wasn't local, that's for damn sure. Antoine didn't look like or carry himself like the Somalis, the Jamaicans, the Nigerians and Kenyans who made up the bulk of Manitoba's Black immigrants. Hope he stays out of trouble, Helena thought, but she wouldn't hold her breath about that.
Helena Durocher thought about all the twists and turns that her life had taken. She'd been born in a settlement called Rapid Roseau, part of the Roseau River Anishinabe First Nation of southern Manitoba. Her father Joseph Harden was a survivor of the Residential Schools who married a French Canadian woman, Jeannette Durocher. After her parents divorce, Helena's mother took her to the City of Montreal, Quebec, where she was raised.
Two years ago, Helena Durocher came back to her birthplace of Manitoba, armed with a Master's degree in business from Concordia University. Helena got herself a job with the downtown Winnipeg branch of the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce, where she was the only Aboriginal person on the fifteen-person team. It soon became clear to Helena that in Winnipeg, White folks, and even some minorities, had a low opinion of Aboriginals, First Nations people and Metis folks.
In the City of Winnipeg, Helena saw so many Aboriginal people who were homeless, affiliated with gangs and drug-addicted that she soon became depressed. When Helena came out of her depression, she became more determined to fight for her people than ever. The Winnipeg police force treated Aboriginal people with contempt, and some of the local minorities, especially the Chinese and the Indians, did the same. It was heartbreaking, but only strengthened the young woman's resolve.
