Fool's Eye

by Gregg Burton

  One of the Asians tapped the driver side window with his handgun.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  When the driver shook his head no, the man with gun tapped the window again.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Again, the driver shook his head. That’s when the Asian man stepped back from the car, aimed the gun at the driver’s head through the window, and motioned with his gun for the driver to let the window down. I screamed out, thinking he was going to shoot the poor fellow and then us. The man standing next to the one waving the pistol made him lower it and then pointed at Malik’s door. By then, we were surrounded. I felt Simon’s hand graze my hip. I looked down to see Simon going into his pocket.

  I quickly grabbed his hand, shook my head, and whispered, “Don’t do that. You’re going to get us killed.”

  He thought for a second before reluctantly putting his hand back in his lap. I blew a small sigh of relief. Never bring a knife to a gunfight.

  “Shit!” Malik said in a harsh whisper.

  “What?” I asked. “Do you know them?”

  Malik shook his head, “How the hell did they find me?”

  By now, I was really starting to get scared. I needed to know what was going on. The man who was tapping on the driver’s window was now using his gun to tap on Malik’s window.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Without trying to blow the con, I mouthed to Malik, “Is this for real?”

  Malik slowly nodded his head yes. He opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Where have you been?” asked the man pointing the gun. “We haven’t seen you around lately. Figured you wised up and skipped town.”

  As Malik closed the door, he said, “Hey, I’ve been meaning…”

  When he closed the door, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I moved over to the window on his side and let it down a little.

  Malik was telling the man, “I’m working on something right now. When I get the money from it, I will pay you.”

  “You said that the last time, but all you left me with was a sore ass.”

  The man speaking seemed to be the one in command. He was no more than twenty-two, twenty-three. The man rocked a spiked hairdo and was dressed like a man from Wall Street with the suit he had on, but instead of dress shoes, he had on a pair of sneakers. He nodded to the gunman, who struck Malik over the head with the butt his gun. I screamed inside my hands and begged Simon or the driver to help him. Simon tried to get out of the car, but the man standing next that door put his gun up to Simon’s window and told him to stay put.

  The driver of the Town Car asked us, “What are you kids mixed up in?”

  I said to myself more than to him, “I don’t know.”

  The spiked haired leader whispered something into Malik’s ear and nodded at his gunman again. Then, another blow came crashing down on Malik’s head. I yelled for them to stop, but they ignored my pleas and punched Malik in the stomach. When he fell to the ground, three of the men started kicking him while he was in the fetal position. I begged them again and again until the leader looked at me and smiled. When he finally spoke in their language, they all stopped.

  “You have two days. If you don’t have my money by then, well, not even your pretty-eyed friend will be able to save you,” the leader told Malik. He spit on the ground next to Malik before walking away, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  When the man who was guarding my door walked away, I jumped out and ran to Malik.

  “Malik, are you okay?”

  I was hysterical. Blood was coming from his head, pouring like an open faucet. I ripped open his shirt and wrapped it around his head to try to stop the bleeding. Malik looked up at me with dull eyes and tried to talk.

  “Don’t speak, Malik. Try to relax. I’m going to get help.” I started screaming from the top of my lungs, “HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP US!”

  Malik tried to talk again, but I put my hand on his chest and told him, “Malik, baby, don’t speak.”

  He spoke anyway. “Who…who is Malik? My name is Martin.”

  That’s when I realized I had fallen out of character.

  Simon asked from behind me, “Yeah, Linda, who’s Malik?”

  Chapter 17

  Simon and I carried Malik back into the store. Papo, wasn’t happy to see us with Malik’s motionless body dragging through his place and dripping blood everywhere.

  “Oh hell no, bro! Somebody got to clean this shit up!”

  “Can’t you see he’s hurt? Now shut up and hit that damn buzzer!” I couldn’t believe he was actually worried about his damn floor.

  “Hey, ma, you don’t talk to me like that! You need to––”

  “OPEN THE FUCKIN’ DOOR!”

  Simon and Papo jumped at the same time. Then, I heard that buzzing sound I was waiting for.

  When we got inside the casino, it took every ounce of my willpower to remain in character. If Malik, who had blood gushing from his head, could remain in character, then so could I. My cry for help stopped the gambling.

  “Can someone please help us? The blood just won’t stop!”

  Simon and I placed Malik on the first table we saw, instantly staining it with Malik’s blood.

  Ace was the first one to make it to us. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “He got jumped by some Chinese guys when we got in a cab. Call an ambulance before he bleeds to death.”

  Ace thought for a second, but it seemed like eternity.

  “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid I can’t do that. You’re right, though. He does need some medical attention.”

  Simon spoke up. “What do you mean you can’t do that? You can’t see the extent of his injuries? If you don’t want to call for help, then I will.”

  “Just hold up, son. This is not the kind of place you invite an ambulance to. I know someone who can take care of this poor kid before he bleeds all over my place.”

  Ace waved over one of his boys and whispered his demands. I couldn’t believe how calm Ace was. He acted as though this was something that happened on the regular. If it weren’t for the amount of blood coming from Malik’s head, I would have thought it was part of the con.

  By now, everybody in the room had circled us, looking at us like we were fish in a bowl. I was getting close to totally freaking out, when the man Ace sent for help came yelling through the crowd, “Move, people! I have a doctor with me!”

  The spectators blocking his path started moving like he was Moses parting The Red Sea.

  When the doctor finally reached Ace, he said, “I came as soon as I heard you needed my help, Mr. Leblac. Where is he?”

  Ace pointed towards us. “See what you can do to help him.”

  Before the doctor made it to Malik, I felt a tug at my shirt and looked down.

  Malik waved for Simon and me to bend down closer to him, and then he spoke with a faint amount of strength. “Help me.”

  “Leblac has a doctor here, buddy,” Simon told him.

  He waved that off. What came out of his mouth next had Simon and me staring at each other in disbelief.

  Chapter 18

  The doctor who was treating Malik asked us to stand off to the side. That’s when Simon slightly pulled my arm and moved me to an area out of the crowd’s listening range.

  “Okay, Linda, what’s going on here? Who is Malik?”

  I had to think quickly, but I really wasn’t focused on answering his question. I wanted Malik to be okay. That’s where my mind was. I tried to shut out his question, but he asked again.

  “Linda, why did you refer to Martin as Malik?”

  I let out a deep sigh before replying, “Malik was a boyfriend I had last year. He got murdered in front of me.” I forced a rain of tears to fall from my eyes. Thoughts of Malik really dying on me made the tears flow faster.

  Sensing that he had dug his finger into a fresh wound, Simon stopped questioning. He came closer and gave me an empathic hug.

  “Hey, I’
m sorry.” He looked down at me, holding me tightly in his arms.

  Slowly, I freed myself from his grasp. “I’m okay. I guess I got a little emotional, huh? What are we going to do about Martin? He said they know where his sister lives.”

  That’s what he told us right before the doctor started taking care of him. He told us that the man who was doing all the talking said his sister was next and that he knew where she lived. Now, I don’t know if Malik had a real sister. If he did, he never talked about her. Martin was supposed to have one for this con, though. He’s supposed to be visiting her from Houston, Texas. If the latter is the case, then I give Malik props for staying in character and using this incident as an opportunity.

  Simon sighed. “I don’t know what we can do. How much do you think he owes them?”

  “I have no clue. The way they wailed on him, I’m assuming it’s more than a few dollars.”

  As we were trying to put together the pieces, Ace walked over to us. He looked concerned when he asked if we were okay.

  I wasn’t.

  My hands were still shaking, and I had no clue what was happening. I wanted Ace to give me a nod, wink, or anything to let me know this was part of the con. He didn’t offer any of those things.

  “The doctor said he’ll be fine,” Ace told us. “He’s just going to have to rest for a couple of days. Do you two have somewhere you can take him? I do have a business to run, and for every minute your friend lies around here, I lose money. It’s bad enough he took out one of my tables.”

  “You’re a heartless asshole,” said Simon. At that moment, I couldn’t agree more.

  Ace question had left Simon and I dumbfounded. I personally didn’t know anything about Malik’s character. Not where his sister stayed or her name, for that matter. Come to think of it, I really didn’t know any of Malik’s real family outside of Ace and the crew. The gang who jumped him seemed to have more information than we did. Simon looked in my eyes and saw that I knew as much as he did when it came to Martin Lawrence.

  Simon was the one to answer Ace. I don’t know if Simon spoke up to prevent us from looking like complete fools or if he was trying to be a hero. (Although he didn’t do anything to help Malik while he was getting jumped.)

  “He can stay with me until he gets better. I just need to get a change of clothes for him before we go to the hotel.” Simon looked down and surveyed his clothes, then mine. “We could use a change of clothes ourselves.”

  I looked down at my blouse, which was now covered in Malik’s blood. Even my trembling hands had changed to a bloodstain red. I tried to swallow my pain, but I couldn’t. The best I could do was just to keep myself from crying.

  I folded my trembling hands under my armpits and asked, “Mr. Leblac, do you have a bathroom I can use?”

  “Of course, go to the back of the room and make a left. Before you go there, stop by the bar and request a clean shirt from the bartender. He has one behind the counter. Mr. Newman, I have one for you and your hurt friend, as well.”

  “Thank you,” I replied for all three of us.

  Once in the bathroom, I stared at the image in the mirror, at a woman I didn’t know. She had eyes, hair, and a build like me. She smiled, frowned, and stared like me, but she was not me. The dried bloodstains on her skin confirmed that it was not me. However, the woman in the mirror and I touched our faces at the same time. We pulled in our lips at the same time. We both asked, “What the hell is going on?” at the same time.

  I didn’t know what to believe. Was this part of the con, or is Malik really hurt?

  I didn’t want to blow the con, but I needed to know. As I cleaned the blood off my body, I made up my mind to make Ace give me a sign, to let me know whether this part was real or not.

  I should have never slept with Malik. It’s one thing to be in pain when a friend gets hurt. When it’s someone you’re sleeping with, the pain is multiplied by ten. All I should have been worried about was doing my part in conning Simon. Nothing else! But, I stood there thinking about Malik instead of thinking about getting my money.

  I splashed ice-cold water on my emotionally drunk face. I looked like an alcoholic after a night of binging.

  I had to pull it together. I couldn’t let my feelings for Malik affect the way I did business, and my business was getting Simon’s money.

  I walked out of the bathroom to find Simon waiting for me at the door.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I smiled and nodded yes. Then, I looked at the shirt the bartender had given him to wear. It read: I luv black women. I put my hand up to try and smother my laugh, but it came out anyway. Simon looked down at the shirt and gave me a ‘Yeah, I know’ look.

  “I guess this is all they had,” he said, smoothly hand-combing his hair back. He looked down at my shirt and added, “At least it’s not a store commercial.”

  My shirt read: Ace is the place. It should have read: This is Ace’s place.

  As we walked back to Ace and Malik, Simon asked me, “Hey, do you remember that guy who tried to get me to place a bet with him at the fight the other night?”

  “No, not really. Wait. Do you mean that greaseball that Martin punked?”

  “Yeah him. What time do you think your friend will let you know tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. By ten o’clock, I guess. Why?”

  “I just spoke to that guy in the bathroom. He said he knows of a fight that Leblac has set up tomorrow. Here’s the catch, though. The buy-in is a cold million.”

  “Okay, now this is getting out of control. Do you hear yourself? Look around you. These are the kind of people who can bet money like that. Not us. We’re college students! Let’s just get the money you owe Leblac together and leave these people alone!”

  “What, and let him win? Let him just take my money? No, I can’t do that. I have to beat him at his own game.”

  “Simon, why are you talking like you’re some type of big-time baller? Where are we supposed to get a million dollars?”

  A bright smile came across his face. “Not one million… $2.5 million.”

  “Simon, what are you talking about?”

  “Come on, let’s go see about Martin. I’ll explain everything later.”

  I shook my head as we walked back to Malik. So it was true. He really had that much money, and he was going to give us every dime of it.

  Chapter 19

  Special Agent Dott’s Trip Home

  Special Agent Dott had never been on a private jet before. The closest he came to anything as luxurious as this was the time a flight attendant took nice to him and let him have an empty first-class seat.

  This jet had everything, plenty of leg room, a full entry, and all the wine he could drink. That is, if he was drinking. Dott was on duty. Not for the FBI and not for Marco. Tonight, Special Agent Dott was on Newman’s private jet to do a job for him. The plane was scheduled to land at JFK at 3:00 in the morning, almost twelve hours after he arrived in Texas.

  Dott had traveled to Texas light, but he came back to New York with some extra baggage. Newman had demanded that one of his ugly mugs accompany Special Agent Dott to make sure the job was done correctly. Although Newman felt that Dott was on the up and up, the trust was moot with the money Newman was offering. Still, he didn’t trust blacks to do a job right anyway. Newman sent his most trusted bodyguard with Dott to minimize the chance for failure.

  Dott looked at his designated babysitter. He didn’t like the fact of having a partner. Hadn’t had one in over twenty years, and if he had to pick one, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been a man who touched his privates. The man could call it a “thorough search” all he wanted to. Dott knew better.

  The “babysitter” was Tillman. He noticed that Special Agent Dott was watching him. He pretended to be looking out the window, staring at the star-filled sky. But, the only star that really caught Tillman’s eyes was Special Agent Dott’s. Dott was going to be his ticket out of that damn basement. All he had to do was tak
e care of Dott for the next twenty-four hours, and Tillman would finally have enough money to start his own security firm. Since his stint as a Ranger in the US. Army, Tillman wanted his own firm. The Tillman Protection Agency.