by Carl Weber
“You remember how to get to where we’re going?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.” Patrick took the exit, then turned down an obscure road. He took his time as he maneuvered the car through the thick trees and brush along the way.
We seemed to be far away from civilization, until finally, a faint light appeared. We followed that light for about a mile, until we entered what appeared to be a parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Patrick stopped the car, and we got out and began walking toward it. As we got closer, I could hear loud chanting.
“White power! White power!”
We finally arrived at a clearing that was occupied by a large group of men, all clad in white sheets, gathered around a huge, burning cross. Patrick walked closer to the crowd, while I stayed back in the shadows near a grove of trees and a white Cadillac. Leaning against a tree, I watched and listened as one of the men, whose red robe made him stand out in the sea of white, gave a rousing speech.
“They like to tell us we have white privilege!” he yelled. “Well, brethren, I’m here to tell you that they’re damn right! We have privilege because that’s the way God wants it. The white man is meant to be the ruler over all creation. And with the support of our great President Donald Trump, we will take back what’s ours. We will make America white again!”
The crowd went fucking crazy, and I even found myself inspired by his words, clapping and whistling in agreement.
“Now, I want you all to raise your hands and pledge your allegiance to our beloved Klan,” he said, and every white-sheeted arm rose up as they loudly professed their loyalty to the KKK.
He wrapped up the meeting by saying, “God bless white America!” and slowly, the crowd of men dispersed. They climbed into their cars, pulling off their hoods and robes, and driving back to their nice, respectable lives. If they were anything like the Klan members I knew back in Texas, there were probably some highly influential people beneath those hoods who would use their power to keep the darkies and illegal aliens in line in their communities.
“Nice turnout, Harold.” I said when the red-robed speaker approached the Caddie.
He nearly jumped out of his robe. Even with his hood on, I could see the fear in his eyes. “Jesus Christ, KD. What the hell are you doing hiding in the damn bushes?”
“I was just sitting back here, enjoying the gathering. That was a damn good speech, too. I gotta admit, I was a little nervous when I found out they’d up and made you Grand Wizard. I figured your being a circuit court judge and all would’ve made you a little soft. But you’re doing a fine job.”
“Well, thank you for the vote of confidence,” he said warily. “Now, I know you ain’t come all this way out here to observe my leadership skills, so tell me why you’re here. You having another one of those parties?” He sounded excited. “Folks are still talking about that last one.”
“Glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we’ll have another one around Christmas. Let me talk to Tyler.”
He seemed to relax a little, removing his hood and going to the trunk of the Caddie to get a few beers from a cooler. He handed me one. I popped the cap and took a long swig.
“Thanks. That hit the spot.”
“No problem. There’s more if you want ’em.” He took a swallow. “So, what’s on your mind? I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s troubling you. You look like you could piss vinegar.”
“I’ve got a situation I could use some help with,” I said humbly.
“KD, we’ve always been friends. You know if there’s anything I can do for you, all you gotta do is ask. What seems to be the problem?”
He leaned against his car as if I was about to give him a grocery list.
“I need a badass who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. Someone who will follow orders and not ask a whole bunch of fucking questions.”
Harold laughed and pointed at the stragglers leaning against their cars with their white robes still on, drinking beer and shooting the shit. “Take your pick. Half of these boys are ex-military or former law enforcement with an axe to grind. Pay them right and they’ll serve you well.”
“No, I’ve got enough trigger-happy country boys on the payroll. What I need is someone special who can operate up north, in places like New York City, without getting lost, frustrated, or overwhelmed,” I explained.
Harold chuckled, looking excited. “I got just the boy for you.” He turned to a red pickup truck that was surrounded by five or six men. “Hey, Pee Wee, go fetch your cousin Slick for me.”
“Sure thing, judge.” Pee Wee, who lived up to his name at no more than five foot four, ran off into the darkness. He returned with one of the meanest-looking jarheads I’d ever seen. He was at least a foot taller than Pee Wee, 290 pounds of pure muscle, and he wore a crew cut and a scowl that made him look like he might rip your damn head off.
“Slick, this here is KD Shrugs, a good friend of mine from El Paso,” Harold said.
“Nice to meet you,” Slick said in this gruff voice that made him appear even meaner.
“Slick here is from New York City and presently looking for work.”
“Is that so?” I grinned. “What type of work do you do, son?”
“Bounty hunter. I used to work for a bail bondsman in Queens until he hired a spic to replace me for half the money.” You could hear the bitterness in that boy’s voice from a mile away. “I was in the Marines for three years before that, but I was dishonorably discharged for beating my nigger sergeant’s ass.” He said that shit with such conviction I wanted to salute him.
“So, you’re a bounty hunter, huh?”
“Yes, sir, a damn good one,” he replied. “But I’ll do just about anything if the price is right. I got a baby on the way.”
“That’s a very responsible way of looking at things,” I replied, but my next question would determine whether we could work together. “So, Slick, would you kill a man if I asked you to?”
He hesitated, staring at me as if I’d opened a whole new can of worms, which I did. “No, sir, I would not kill a man—not unless it was self-defense.”
I glanced over at Harold, a little disappointed, until Slick finished his response.
“But niggers, spics, and Jews aren’t men, so killing one of them is like deer hunting. Far as I’m concerned, it’s open season.”
That boy didn’t even crack a smile, but I did. Matter of fact, I laughed my ass off. “Slick, my friend, you’re hired. How’s a hundred grand a year sound?”
“Sounds real good. When do I start?”
“Right fucking now.”
Nevada
31
“Thanks,” I said to the Uber driver as I climbed out of the back seat of his Honda Accord.
The last week had completely sucked, other than sneaking off to tutor Kia at the library a few times. My mom and dad were still at each other’s throats, and each day was looking more and more like I was going to end up in a boarding school. Well, if I was going to be forced to leave New York, I was going to make the best of the time I had left, not locked up in the hotel like a damn prisoner. Luckily, Mom and Grandma had been so busy arguing about my fate in the living room that they hadn’t heard me slip out the back door of the suite.
As I stared at the entrance to the building where I’d been dropped off, my phone began vibrating in my pocket. I didn’t bother checking it, because I already knew it was my mother. She’d given it back to win favor in her argument with my dad, but it didn’t work. I was mad at both of them—especially her. She was the one trying to send me off to boarding school.
I took the phone out of my pocket and hit the IGNORE button, but she just called back two seconds later. I was tempted to block her but couldn’t bring myself to be that disrespectful.
The phone chimed with a text message on the screen.
Mom: Where are you? Call me right now and tell me where you are. Don’t make me call the police.
I knew she didn’t mean it. My mother hated the police more than sh
e hated my dad’s girlfriend—and she hated Marie with a passion. But in case my sudden departure from the hotel had upset her enough to contact the authorities, I sent her a quick response.
Nevada: I’m fine. I went to see a friend. This whole boarding school thing is stressing me out! Just give me some space. PLEASE!!!!
I hit the SEND button then turned off my phone.
I walked toward the entrance and paused, not knowing whether I should ring the bell. My slight dilemma was solved when the door suddenly opened and a man walked out, bumping into me.
“Oh,” was the closest thing I got to an apology as he continued past.
I grabbed the door before it shut and walked inside. Looking around, I was surprised by what I saw. Marie’s place was called the Hellfire Club. I’d expected to see a room full of naked women carrying trays of drinks and giving lap dances like you would see in the strip clubs on TV. In my mind, I’d always pictured the Hellfire Club as a slightly sleazy place with red lighting. Instead, the entrance looked more like the lobby of a nice hotel, with soft jazz coming from surround-sound speakers. There were guys sitting around in leather armchairs, smoking cigars and drinking whiskey that was brought to them by super-hot waitresses. The women wore tight dresses and stiletto heels, but no one was naked.
No one seemed to notice me as I went into the bar area, which turned out to be closer to what I had been expecting. Men sat around small tables as waitresses dressed in sexier, see-through lingerie brought them drinks. One woman, wearing a short kimono, took a man by the hand and led him up a nearby staircase. As he followed behind her, he lifted the back of her robe and smacked her on the ass. She giggled and turned around, so he loosened the belt and fondled her breasts. I watched as they groped each other for a few seconds before finally making their way up the steps. There was no question where they were going or what they were about to do.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around. I had to tilt my head up to look at the huge man grimacing at me.
“I keep telling you young motherfuckers to stay the fuck outta here. After the last warning I gave you and your little friends, I thought you would’ve learned a lesson. I guess not.”
“I . . . I’ve never been here before. I’m looking . . .” I stammered.
“Yeah, I see your horny ass looking. But after I blacken your eye, you ain’t gonna be able to see nothing.”
I winced as he began dragging me toward a nearby door. “Wait! You don’t understand.”
“Bubba! What are you doing?” Kia called out. “Let him go.”
I was able to turn my head just enough to see her rushing toward us.
“I’ma let his little ass go right after I fuck him up one good time,” Bubba told her.
“If you do, you may as well kiss your job goodbye,” Kia told him. She looked so much older in her sexy clothes and heavy makeup. “Do you know who this is?”
“Nope,” Bubba said. “And I don’t care.”
“This is Vegas’s son, Nevada. You care now?”
“Vegas? Marie’s Vegas?”
She nodded, and the man released his grip.
“You owe him an apology,” she said, pulling me toward her.
“My bad, little man. I didn’t know. But real talk, your ass is underage, so you can’t be in here. It’s bad for business. Scares away the regulars.” Bubba nodded toward a couple of people who were looking over at us.
“Come on, Nevada.” Kia pulled me by the arm, and I followed her into the kitchen and up a back stairway.
After several twists and turns down a few more hallways, we finally got to her room. She closed the door behind us, then motioned for me to sit on the bed. I slid off my knapsack and looked around at the small room. Aside from the distinctive Asian-themed decorations, it looked like a regular bedroom with a queen-size bed, a dresser, and a vanity covered with makeup and perfumes. It didn’t necessarily look like a place where Kia entertained strange men for a living.
“You okay? What are you doing here anyway?” she asked.
“We were supposed to meet at the library this morning, but you didn’t show up or answer my DMs. I hope you’re not upset about my mom. She’s just being overprotective.”
“Aw, that’s cute.” She smiled sweetly. “No, I’m not upset. I was doing an outcall, and my client wanted more time.”
“I wish you would have let me know. I really was worried.” I shook my head and stared at the floor, feeling like a fool.
“I know. I’m sorry. But I can’t use my phone during a date. It’s a big no-no. They’re paying for my time.”
I hated that she called what she did a date.
“Besides, you should have never come here. This place isn’t for you.”
“Is that a crack at my age?” I asked.
“No.” She walked over to the bed and sat down next to me, taking my hand. “It means you’re the only friend I have outside these walls, and this place has a way of corrupting people. I don’t want that for you.” She looked intensely into my eyes. “I want you to stay away because you’re my light at the end of the tunnel, Nevada. Every time I look at you, I see there is a way out of this life. If you become part of it, I’m trapped.”
“Wow, that was deep.” I didn’t know what else to say. I had no idea she felt that way about me.
“That’s was kind of deep, wasn’t it?” She laughed, and so did I.
There was a knock on the door. Kia placed her finger over her lips to tell me to stay quiet.
“Yes?” she called out.
“Hey, Ki.” It was Danielle. I recognized her loud voice right away. “One of your regulars is downstairs.”
“Okay, I’ll be right down,” Kia replied.
“You better hurry. It’s that nerdy guy Bob, the one you said is a big tipper.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there, Danielle. I gotta clean up my room.”
Danielle left, and Kia said to me, “I have to go down there, and you gotta get outta here.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek, and as usual, I blushed. “And I meant what I said about you staying away from here.”
“Yeah, I know, but I had to see you. I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said sadly, lifting my head so that our eyes met.
“Your mom is really sending you to boarding school?” Kia asked, and I was shocked to see her eyes fill up with tears.
“She thinks she is. But I’m not going to California tomorrow,” I said defiantly, and I meant every word. “I’m going to Texas.”
Kia looked confused. “What’s in Texas?”
“Your sister.”
KD
32
“Oh, shit. Yeeeeeeah. Oh, yeah.” I moaned as I watched the brim of my Stetson rise and fall in front of me. My eyes rolled back in my head and my legs tensed up as I gripped the side of the bed until my knuckles turned white. I was sweating so profusely that my hair must have looked like I’d just stepped out of the shower.
“You like that, Mr. KD?” Celeste asked, lifting my hat from her head so I could see those beautiful full lips expertly suck on my dick.
I couldn’t even answer the Haitian beauty for fear that if I did, it would bring the euphoria I was feeling to an end. The rhythmic motion of her mouth had me on the verge of exploding. I leaned back slightly and began thrusting my pelvis as I erupted with a prolonged growl, not caring that I sounded like a wounded animal.
“Fuck, that was good. I mean damn good, girl.” I panted, wiping the beads of sweat off my face. My heart was pounding so fast that I could barely catch my breath. Once again, she’d proven my preference for dark meat to be a sound and fulfilling choice.
I heard a knock on the bedroom door and glanced at her like she might be expecting someone—’cause I sure wasn’t. I knew one thing: somebody was looking for a foot up their ass.
“Who is it?” I shouted.
“It’s me,” I heard Patrick shout back.
“What do you want, boy?” I
growled angrily. “I’m gettin’ my dick sucked!”
“I understand that, KD, and I apologize. Normally I’d never disturb you while you were getting your dick sucked, but we got company. Important company that just rolled up.” Patrick was a dope, but at least he knew not to announce any names in front of one of the girls.
“All right, I’ll be right there.” I sighed, tapping Celeste so I could sit up. “Hand me my britches, brown sugar.”
A few minutes later, I had sent Celeste out the back door to Building 6 and was stepping into my living room, pulling my suspenders over my shoulders. I was greeted by Congressman Wesley Bell sitting on my sofa.
“Afternoon, KD.” Wesley gave me that fake-ass politician smile that told me he was up to something. “That was a fine party you gave the other night. I especially enjoyed the tour. It brought a lot of things into perspective. I appreciate you bringing me on board.”
“Cut the bullshit. What the fuck do you want?”
Patrick handed me a much-needed beer, and I sat down on my recliner, taking a long swig.
“I have someone important I want you to meet. Someone that could change both of our lives significantly.”
I could tell from the seriousness in his tone that whoever this person was, the congressman respected or feared him, or perhaps even both. I was all ears and open to talk to whomever about whatever, but I wasn’t gonna be intimidated by anyone.
“All right. You know I like game changers. Set it up.” I gave him an approving nod.
“I already have. He’s outside.” Wesley raised his phone to his head and spoke into it. “Could you please send him in?”
Well, this was going to be interesting. I watched cautiously as Wesley stood and my front door opened.
“Come on in,” Wesley said to a man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a clean-shaven face. He was well dressed in an expensive suit and Italian shoes that said he either oozed money or was a conman.