Mountainway Chant

by M J Calabrese

Adam froze. Was this about Claire? Was this what this drunken bender was all about?

  Eagle came around and flopped down on the couch before poking at a large, white envelope sat on the table in front of them. It sat alongside an almost empty bottle of Wild Turkey. The liquid in Eagle’s glass splashed on the envelope, but he didn’t seem to notice. He refilled his glass and took another swig.

  “See this?” He shoved the envelope towards Adam. “Take a look, asshole and then we’ll…, talk.” He snickered and sat back on the couch.

  Curious, Adam reached into the open envelope and pulled two photos out, placing them on the table. He stared at them, at first not comprehending what he was looking at or why. The initial photo was of a young couple having sex. Eagle reached out and turned it over. The first few words caught Adam’s eye. Like father, like son. Who’s Michael’s Daddy?

  “Look at the other picture, Adam. Look at it good.” Eagle poked the 8x10 with his finger. “Look at it!” He shouted. Eagle saw Adam frown, but he did take a hard look at both pictures. The first one was dated March of 1998. It took a moment for him to realize it was a picture of him and Marguerite, Eagle’s former girlfriend and Michael’s mother. He stared at it long and hard and faded memories began to resurface. He’d hooked up the Marguerite at a party the day James Farnam broke his heart. He had been feeling confused and had reached out to her. What started as a tearful conversation by two heartbroken people turned into sex. The words on the back of the photograph and Michael’s headshot gave him the answer to the question.

  Michael Woodard wasn’t Eagle’s son. He was his son. Adam stood abruptly as he felt a wave of nausea come over him. He knew he had to run, to get out of that house, but there was no place to go.

  “Your father paid off Marguerite. She didn’t get an inheritance to pay for her law degree, Richard Coulter paid for it. He didn’t want the stain of a bastard grandson on that impeccable Coulter line of yours, so he paid her and had her point the finger at me as father. All these years, Michael should have been your responsibility, not mine. I was such a fool. I gave up everything, Adam.” He screamed, “Everything! Every hope and dream I ever had for a kid that wasn’t even mine.”

  “I didn’t know.” Adam whispered. “I swear to you, I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve taken care of him no matter what my father said.” Tears started to form in Adam’s eyes. “I didn’t know, Eagle, I didn’t know.” He held out his hands, pleading for Eagle to understand, but he could see the other man’s anger building. Adam took a step back, but he wasn’t quick enough. Even drunk, Eagle Woodard was in a lot better shape than he was. Adam never stood a chance in avoiding the punch that caught him in the jaw.

  The instant Eagle’s fist connected with his face, he felt the whiplash and the tang of blood in his mouth as a molar flew from its lodgings. Adam went down, stunned, but not unconscious. Eagle’s fists came at him again and the best he could do was raise his arms to try and protect himself.

  “I didn’t know.” He cried out as Eagle hit him again.

  “Liar!”

  “No! I swear….” Another hard right caught Adam in the ribs. He cried out in pain, blood and spit sprayed from his mouth as he begged Eagle to stop, then as suddenly as the attack began it ended. Michael Woodard had a hold of his father, trapping his arms to his sides. Eagle was just drunk enough he couldn’t figure out how to break free.

  “Go, Uncle Adam. Go. I can handle him. He won’t hurt me. Please, just go!”

  Adam scurried to get out from under the two struggling men as he ran for the door. He ran, jerking open the door to the Jeep then he scrambled in. Adam heard the sound of the front door to the house opening. With fright filled eyes, Adam looked up, but it was Michael carrying a white towel.

  “Uncle Adam, I’m so sorry. Dad’s gone crazy.” He handed the towel to Adam through the SUV’s window, when he did the sleeve of his shirt pulled up and Adam’s eyes locked on Michael’s arm. Fresh needle marks stood purple against his tan skin. Seeing his Uncle’s look, he started to pull away, but Adam caught hold of his wrist.

  Adam looked the younger man in the eyes. “If you want to talk….”

  “It’s just me and Rico having some fun. It’s nothing.”

  “Yeah, it used to be fun for me, too.” Adam let Michael’s arm go. He pressed the towel to the side of his mouth and it came back bloody. “Don’t clean up the living room, but if you do, use gloves. Promise me, you won’t get my blood on you. Okay?”

  “Why?”

  Adam smiled weakly, “Let’s just say, my past has caught up with me, Michael, in more ways than one. Did you see the pictures?”

  “Yes.” Michael looked back toward the house for a moment. “I already knew.”

  “You knew?”

  “Long story. Those mail in ancestry tests even give you a list of your closest living relatives. Apparently, Michelle Coulter is mine.”

  “I’m sorry, Michael. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I had a great childhood, it’s my twenties that are sucking.” The younger man chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “He’s my Dad, Adam. Not you, sorry. Eagle Woodard will always be my Dad, even when he’s a drunken piece of shit. He’s still my Dad.”

  Adam nodded. “I understand and I agree, but if you need me. If you need my help. Just call me, please, okay?”

  Michael nodded and turned back to the house. Adam watched as his son disappeared into the brightness of the living room and closed the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eagle Woodard woke up with a pounding headache, a mouth that tasted like dirty socks and his right hand hurt like a motherfucker. He rolled over in bed, but the call of nature was too powerful so he forced himself to get up. He brushed his teeth then looked at his haggard face and bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Bits and pieces of the previous evening started to crowd their way into his memory. He looked down, then flexed his right hand, turning it into a fist. His knuckles were bruised and torn, still bloody from where he’d hit Adam in the mouth. Pain seared up his arm as he pressed on his middle finger knuckle. It was then he realized he may have broken or cracked a bone.

  Eagle reached up, running his fingers through his greasy hair. He knew he needed a shower, but he couldn’t deal with it right now. The smell of freshly brewed coffee tickled his nose and he frowned. Had Adam come back?

  He wandered out into the living room and groaned at the devastation he found there. A planter had fallen over when he’d hit Adam. Blood and dirt stained the rug protruding from under the couch. The idea of having to clean this up was just the icing on the cake because the person responsible for the coffee was standing in the kitchen. Michael Woodard did not look pleased.

  Eagle sat down at the breakfast bar built into the kitchen island. Michael shoved two aspirin, a glass of water and a cup of coffee in his direction.

  “I’m sorry.” Eagle said as he popped the aspirin in his mouth and swallowed them with a gulp of water.

  “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” With this he pushed a molar tooth into his father’s view.

  Eagle wiped his hands over his face. “Shit!”

  “Yeah, and I left you the mess to clean up. Adam told me to use gloves if I wiped it up. When I asked why, he said something about his past catching up to him and to be careful around his blood. You know anything about that?” Michael sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were tearing and he felt the pain starting in his joints. He needed to get back to Rico before the symptoms got worse, but he wasn’t finished with his father.

  “Michael, I….” Eagle couldn’t make himself look at this son. “I’m not your father.”

  “I know that.”

  “What?”

  “I found out about two years ago. Had a genetics class. My instructor urged me to do one of those mail-in DNA tests so the Native American database would be better represented. So I did. Guess what? I’m zero percent Native American. I am French, English and Per
uvian Spanish blood and my nearest living relative in their records is Michelle Coulter. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Plus I made Mom confess. She said she was surprised you hadn’t figured it out yourself. She gave me the option of telling you, but I didn’t. I figured this was how you’d react.” Michael reached over and laid his hand on Eagle’s arm. “It doesn’t matter who my sperm donor was, Dad. You’re my father. You’ve always been there for me. You sacrificed for me. You held me when I was sick and you taught me how to be a man. Adam Coulter has never been and never will be my Dad. You are.”

  Eagle began to cry. Michael’s words meant more to him than his son…, his son, by God, could ever know. He stood and went around the countertop to the young man on the other side and pulled him into a bear hug. It took a moment or two, but when he felt Michael’s arms wrap around his waist, he completely lost any semblance of control. “I love you, son. I love you with all my heart. You are the best son any man could hope for.”

  “No, I’m not.” He placed his hands on his father’s chest and pushed away. He sighed. “Listen,” he said as he combed his fingers through his hair, “I’ve got to go. I packed up everything from my room while you were passed out. I’m leaving. I’m going to live with Rico. He’s taking care of me and he loves me, Dad. I hope one day you’ll respect my decisions.”

  “I’m warning you, Michael, he’s trouble. I swear to you. He’s trouble.”

  “Then he’s my trouble. I’ll be alright. Just do me a favor, Dad.” He touched Eagle’s face and smiled sadly, “Get help for the drinking. Make peace with Adam. He loves you so much and I know you love him, or you would if you could forgive him and yourself.” Michael could feel the roiling in his gut starting and he knew he needed Rico. “I’ve got to go, Dad. Take care of yourself.” He turned toward the door. “Talk to Adam, really talk. Give him his tooth back. Love you, Dad.”

  Eagle Woodard started to cry again, as the front door closed and he was once again alone with his own demons.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jacob Case ran to catch up with his cousin, David who looked like someone had beat his dog to death. If someone had bothered to ask, they wouldn’t have been too far off.

  “Hey, David, wait up!” He called after his cousin. “I’ve got us a way out of this mess.”

  David turned, livid. “The last time you said that, your grand plan just made things worse, not better. I don’t want to hear it!”

  “Then look at this.” He shoved his phone in front of the other man’s face. “Play the video.”

  David pushed the button and the video started to play. It showed Rico prompting his whore to shoot up. Even though their drug dealer was out of frame, he still knew the voice. Come on, Michael. You can do it yourself. I’ve helped you a dozen times. You can do this one on your own. Michael glanced up at the camera, obviously high, but he followed Rico’s instructions and as he pulled the tourniquet loose, his head fell back, eyes glazed as the heroin took effect. There seemed to be another man there with Rico, but David didn’t ask questions about the other man’s identity. He knew it was Rico’s supplier. The man terrified him and he knew he still owed Rico for the drugs. Maybe he was there trying to collect from Rico.

  David shoved the iPhone back into his cousin’s hand. “So, you got a video of some junkie shooting up. Why are you showing it to me?”

  Jacob grabbed David. His eyes were bright with excitement. “Do you know who that junkie is?”

  “Why would I know who he is?”

  Jacob’s smile broadened, “That is Detective Eagle Woodard’s son, Michael. Do you think he’d want that to get all over the internet? Cop’s son is a junkie and a male prostitute to pay for his habit?”

  David stopped and grabbed his cousin’s phone to watch the video again. “You’re sure this is Michael Woodard, the Michael Woodard?”

  “Googled the last few yearbooks looking for senior pictures and I found him. He’s definitely Woodard’s son.”

  David started to walk away with the iPhone, but didn’t get very far before Jacob snatched it from his cousin’s hand.

  “We need to see Uncle Nelson. Tell him what we’ve found.”

  “We will,” Jacob grabbed David’s arm, “but we need to show some initiative. We have to have a plan on how to stop him. I know Uncle Nelson’s lawyer tried to blackmail him and failed. So I think we need to make it more permanent.”

  “What?” David stared at his cousin in disbelief. “Have you gone insane? Us kill someone?”

  “Well, you’ve already done it once. They say it gets easier every time you do it.”

  “That was an accident! You know it was.”

  Jacob held his hands up, looking innocent. “Hey, I walked out of the room. I come back and the guy is on the floor with snow all over his face, gasping for air. I didn’t shove his face in the coke, you did.”

  “He lied about the money. The money we told Uncle Nelson we could get from him. Then he laughed at me when I told him he owed me for the kilo. He threatened to call the cops!”

  Jacob just stood there and looked at this cousin. “Well, we could ask Uncle Nelson to have one of his bodyguards do the actual killing. They both look capable.”

  “True.” David sighed, “but I still have a bad feeling about all of this.”

  “David, we’ve got nothing to lose. Uncle Nelson wants this guy stopped. He can’t testify about what he saw. We could do what he wanted us to do in the first place before I got all creative and toss his body way out in the desert like we were supposed to do in the first place. There won’t be anything to find in a couple of days.” Jacob pleaded his case.

  David shook his head. “I don’t know, but I guess it is the best we can do.” He took the phone from his cousin again and watched the video one more time. He handed the phone back. “Make sure you don’t accidentally erase that. I’ll call Uncle Nelson.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rico followed Richard Coulter’s instructions. He called the old man and told him to meet him at the parking lot behind the Recovery Center. Rico laughed at the irony. Half the guys he sold to went to those meetings. He even picked up a few from the groups and made sure they got home high.

  He’d set the meet for eleven that night. He knew he’d be there a little early. He knew where he would park Michael’s car so it wouldn’t be noticed. One favor paid to his asshole lawyer. He knew he still owed him one more, but if every favor was going to be this simple, then there’d be no problem. He had plans to leave this town. Things had gotten a little awkward when he sold a kilo of coke to Nelson Greybill’s nephews. Word on the street was that Greybill was looking for him. He should’ve been smarter and asked why those two idiots couldn’t get it from their uncle, but they didn’t.

  He still needed cash and Richard Coulter might be good for it. He owed his supplier. That guy was an ugly, mean piece of work so he didn’t want to stay around any longer than he had to. A little blackmail went a long way. Worst case he’d sell his lover to another pimp and then he’d be gone. A drug addicted whore wasn’t his idea of the perfect boyfriend. Getting Michael hooked was too easy and he wished he could be around when that arrogant bastard, Detective Eagle Woodard, found out his son was a junkie. He wished he could see his face when he saw his son arrested for selling his ass on the street to feed his habit. He’d used Michael’s bad relationship with his father to manipulate him and to get him hooked. It’d only taken two days to get Michael switched to heroin. Now the kid couldn’t get enough of it.

  Rico adjusted his cock as he watched a hot guy leave the club. Michael’s ass and mouth were sweet, but not sweet enough to keep him in town. He knew Eagle Woodard’s secret and he’d use it if Woodard came after him. He’d make it very clear to him what would happen. He remembered the look in the cop’s eyes when he’d let drop a hint about what he knew. That flash of fear and the paranoia of being found out. He smiled. He knew he’d use that information one day when he, himself, needed a
favor.

  The music poured out onto the street every time someone opened the club’s doors and another patron exited. Rico checked his iPhone for the time, then headed toward the club’s door.

  Bliss was your standard sleazy strip joint with one difference. Instead of just girls on the poles or just boys gyrating to the music, there was a mix. All the male and female dancers moved in an erotic choreography of simulated sex. The boy on his knees in front of the leather Dom reminded him of Michael. He watched from his vantage point at the end of the bar. The music was loud, but the strobe lights kept the gawkers from looking too close at the painted faces of the dancers. As their set ended, another group would replace them on stage and the dancers would move through the crowd offering any paying customer a private lap dance while quietly offering more.

  The hallway to the toilets was lined with pimps and dealers who could smell a vice cop a mile away and like the roaches they were, would scatter when there was any threat. They knew how to send out the alarm and they’d escape in the ensuing chaos.

  He looked down the bar trying to figure out who Mickey was. After about twenty minutes one of the female bartenders came over to him.

  “What will you have?”

  “Mickey.”

  The woman frowned and headed to the far end of the bar. She engaged a giant of a guy. He was a 6’6” bear with a ginger beard. The man looked over at Rico then whispered something to the woman beside him. She seemed about to argue, but then thought better of it. Making her way back, she leaned in, “You, Rico?”

  “Yeah, my lawyer sent me. Mickey’s got a package for me.”

  She nodded then walked the length of the bar again. He watched as she relayed the message. The man disappeared.

  “Tell him I’m done.”

  Rico jumped, surprised by the deep, menacing growl in his ear. “You tell him, don’t ask nothin’ from me again. Got it?”

  A duffel bag was dropped at Rico’s feet.