Listening to the horns from the stuck traffic behind the stalled 18-wheeler, the day didn’t seem too much different when Blackie woke up around 11:15 on this usual September day.After a heavy night of drinking, the laid back owner of apartment 1000 of Finch Pointe started his usual routine of getting dressed and laying out on the deck watching the street fly by.James Johnson or “Blackie” to almost everyone was an occupant of Finch Pointe for almost 6 years. No one knows the exact reason why the name Blackie has been his identity but the rumors are abundant. Whether or not it was for his fashion sense of always wearing black, the fact that his apartment seemed to have an overall night-like sense about it, or if you knew him you would know that a drink always occupied his lips more than anything else, either way he was a figure like no other. His occupation was unknown by most but he seemed to always have an abundant amount of money and women seemed to wander in and out of his luxurious apartment of Finch Pointe. If you were to call Blackie on any given day and one of these anonymous females happened to be with him he would simply say “I am with a client” and hang up. He talked only when he felt he needed to but when the weekend came around it was always Blackie’s apartment that seemed to attract the most people from all around the city.He lived a life of luxury, never complaining about anything and would often be a great person to sit outside with and share a cigar on a summer night. However, Blackie also could make a person mad if seen at an inopportune moment. He would often be seen arguing with the owner of Queen’s Palace or fighting with some of his “clients” during late hours of the night. People who stayed around the local package store would often see him tripping over himself or walking out of the place carrying large quantities of alcohol. Either way “Blackie” would always be dressed to impress, groomed to perfection, would never turn down a chance to share a beer or smoke a cigar, and on this occasion was simply sitting on the balcony of apartment 1000 in his satin robe drinking a cup of scotch and never the less watching the street fly by.