Little White Lies

by Paul Watkins

  ***

  For once, the best-case scenario worked out and A.J. and I finished our business slightly ahead of schedule. A.J. stuck to the subject for a change and things went smoothly, probably because he didn’t have an audience. Now it looks like I could have made it to Karen’s after all. Unfortunately I don’t think she’s in the mood to have callers at this hour… especially me.

  I pull up in front of Jennifer’s home at the appointed hour, driving A.J.’s Lexus coupe, his latest acquisition. This time I insisted he trade a car in. All the bays in the garage are full and it doesn’t make sense to build more garage space or start leaving cars outside. Heck, it’s tough enough just keeping the cars in running order. He agreed, albeit reluctantly… he loves his toys.

  The door opens just as I’m about to push the bell. Jennifer is dressed in her normal attire, looking casually elegant. She leans forward, kisses me on the cheek and pulls me in the door.

  “Come in. I just called Sheri and told her we would be a few minutes late. I thought we could have a drink here and talk for a little while. Is that okay with you?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” I reply. “I just finished up with A.J. and that’s always a good excuse to have a drink. We’ve really been going at it.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “There’s been a design change that will be incorporated into all the restaurants under construction… three buildings are affected… and we have to get it back to the architects tomorrow. I won’t bore you with the details. A.J. doesn’t realize how much it costs to make changes once the construction is underway. I should say he didn’t realize… he’s a little more up to speed now.”

  She takes my hand and steers me towards the living room. Albert is standing in the foyer, to the side of the doorway. His look is normal: totally devoid of expression, a classic case of emotional constipation. I’m not sure he likes me. Jennifer sits on the sofa and pats the seat, signaling me to sit next to her.

  “I know you don’t think Albert likes you,” she whispers, leaning over so she cannot be overheard, “but I assure you that’s not the case. He always looks that way.” The last is said with a smirk.

  “You mean he always looks intestinally blocked?”

  Jennifer laughs and swats me on the shoulder.

  “No, that’s not what I meant and you know it. He is practically family to me and he cares about me… that’s all. He doesn’t trust you because he doesn’t know you.”

  “Which is it? He always looks that way, or he’s suspicious of me because he doesn’t know me?”

  “All of the above. I don’t know. I give up.”

  She throws her hands in the air in mock exasperation.

  A silver tray rests on the table. There’s a bottle of white wine chilling in a marble cooler and two glasses. Jennifer leans forward and pours the wine, handing a glass to me. She moves closer and we touch glasses in a silent toast.

  “You know,” she says, “if we are ever going to get to know one another better, we are going to have to touch more than glasses. I mean… that’s how people get to know one another.”

  My left arm is resting behind her on the back of the sofa. I cradle my hand gently behind her neck and draw her to me. This is our first real kiss and the onlything on my mind right now is what took me so long?

  ***

  “Phil, I got a call last night from some of the guys from the old neighborhood,” A.J. begins our first telephone conversation of the day. “They said they wanted to come up for a short visit when I get back. I told them I wouldn’t get home until later this evening, but they said that was no problem since they didn’twant to stay long anyway. They should be there around seven. I thought you might want to meet them… see some of my old friends from the hood. I don’t think there’s any agenda… they probably just want to drop in and have a few laughs, free drinks… you know the drill.”

  “Sure,” I reply, “I’d like to meet them, any friend of yours, and all that. If I’m not around, just call and I’llcome running.”

  ***

  Right on time, my pager beeps with a code from security, someone’s at the gate. A.J.’s friends have probably arrived. We decided to hold dinner until after his friends leave, so I imagine this will be short and sweet. A.J. walks towards the front door, preferring to meet his old buddies in person. I stay back in the foyer. I imagine he will entertain them in the library, so I’ll hang around in this area until all the greetings are over.

  A.J. opens the door and leans against the jamb watching his pals ascend the stairs to the house. He probably has mixed emotions about seeing some of these guys, judging from some of the stories he has told me about his youth. He knew a lot of tough customers during those years.

  The three men approach A.J. on the stairs and there appears to be a momentary pause as everyone takes stock of the situation. A.J. is probably looking at his friends to see if they are the same as he remembers them. For their part, I would imagine they are somewhat impressed by A.J.’s new status. It’s one thing to read about someone’s success, quite another to see the results of what all that money can buy.

  A.J. is the first to speak.

  “Hey! All my main men… together!” He holds out his fists for the ritual handshakes and a quick succession of strange grips and moves follows. The sacred rites completed, A.J. turns and leads the way into the house.

  He holds his hands up as if seeing me for the first time today.

  “Phil, I want you to meet some of the old gang from the hood.”

  The last said with a gleam in his eye and an accent on the word, ‘hood’.

  The three men trail A.J. and continue to look at their surroundings as if putting a price on each object they notice. One of the men is taller than the other two. He is slender and his movements are slow and deliberate. The other two are slightly shorter than A.J., but both move with that same easy street-smart grace. False bravado or not, these men do not impress easily.

  A.J. stops and turns to the three and begins the introductions.

  “Guys, I want you to meet a friend and business associate of mine, Phil Richards. Phil, the big guy on the left here is ‘Lightning Fast’, known for his fast hands. We call him Lightning, Light, or Fast… should have been a magician.”

  Lightning Fast looks at me and then looks away and resumes his survey of the house. He doesn’t bother to nod, shake hands or acknowledge the introduction in any other way. If A.J. notices the affront, he doesn’t bother to call attention to it. On the other hand, maybe he’s so fast, we shook hands and I simply missed it.

  “The man in the middle here,” he continues, “is ‘Dealer’, because of all the new cars he drives. And last, and least, is ‘Rumble’, which, I suppose, is self-explanatory. The man loves to get it on.”

  A.J. continues to look at Rumble and adds, “Do you still do all that crazy shit, man?”

  Rumble ignores the question. No one bothers to acknowledge my presence. A.J. leads the way to the library without further comment. The three walk along slowly in his wake and I bring up the rear. Rumble takes the door and begins to close it in my face. His glare is supposed to stop me in my tracks, but I’ve already had enough of their juvenile crap. I push the door open, enter and close it behind me. I turn to make my way into the room and run smack into Rumble, who has remained standing in his place. I immediately step back and hold up my hands.

  “My apologies, Mr. Rumble, but A.J. asked me to remain in the room. If he has changed his mind, I will be happy to leave. Otherwise, I’d let it go if I were you.”

  Rumble’s eyes widen in anger, accompanied by a quick derisive smile.

  “Hey, Rumble, come on, grab a seat,” A.J. calls from his place behind the bar.

  He may have witnessed the small confrontation, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make any difference.
I don’t think this little visit has anything to do with old times’ sake and all that jazz. And I think it may have everything to do with leaning on A.J. for some serious favors. The kind of favors you can count and then stick in your pocket. Wealthy men attract people such as these worthies like honey draws flies. Not bees, flies. Flies don’t work for a living.

  Rumble pauses for effect to insure my awareness of the enormity of his decision. He really has to tear himself away from me. He wants to make a statement… of the physical variety. Right now, so do I. This business of being an asshole must be contagious.

  “What’ll it be, boys,” A.J. asks like any good bartender would at such a fine gathering. He continues to be the perfect host.

  Dealer looks at A.J. and shakes his head.

  “Look, A.J.,” Dealer begins, “we ain’t here for drinks and talk. We’re here to do a little bidnez.”

  The others shake their heads in agreement and let Dealer continue to carry the ball as if by prior agreement.

  “It seems you ain’t got no time for the neighborhood anymore. It’s been a while since you been around… but we ain’t here to talk about that neither.”

  A.J. has learned patience and he waits quietly for Dealer to make his point, for there is no longer any question about it… a point is going to be made. These men definitely have an agenda and they are going tosee it through. I must admit they have managed to get my attention.

  Dealer has paused for thought, and appears in no hurry to get to the main subject of this meeting. Finally he looks up and fixes his gaze on A.J.

  “We have been talking, A.J., and we think it’s time you did right by your old friends.”

  A.J. nods, not in agreement, but in understanding. His friends, however, may mistake his intent, but A.J. doesn’t let the impression go for long.

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” he asks with a slight smile.

  “We think it’s time you helped out your friends… your real friends.”

  I’m not sure, but I think this last remark may be a veiled reference to yours truly. On the other hand… who cares?

  “What exactly are you after… a loan, a job… what?” A.J. asks with real interest in his tone of voice.

  I’m amazed at the degree of civility he’s maintaining. I’m not sure I could do the same with these jerks. Right about now I’ll bet A.J. is wondering what he ever had in common with lowlifes such as these three.

  “Neither,” replies Dealer quickly. “A loan has to be paid back and a job might mean work. We don’t intend to do either.”

  A.J. laughs.

  “That leaves only gifts, and it’s too early for Christmas. This is beginning to sound like I’m not interested.”

  A very long silence ensues.

  “I think you will be interested… maybe in spite of yourself,” Dealer adds almost as an afterthought.

  “How would that be?” A.J. asks.

  “Well, A.J.,” Dealer continues, “there is one other option you haven’t discussed or apparently thought of… and it’s worth a lot of money… especially to you.”

  “Go on,” A.J. prompts, “I’m waiting.”

  “I’m talking about insurance… peace of mind.”

  “Insurance?” A.J. retorts. “You mean protection?”

  “Not protection,” Dealer replies, “more like security.”

  “Still not interested,” A.J. says with a smile. “Thanks to Phil, here, I have all the security I will ever need.”

  “Well I’m not talking about security out here. I was thinking more about the old neighborhood.”

  A.J. tenses visibly, but otherwise he shows no emotion. I think we’re both finally catching on, and if we’re right, it isn’t going to be pretty from here on in. Dealer continues to look at A.J. directly with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Displaying the patience of a master teacher with a slow student, he waits for A.J. to come up with the right answer, but A.J. won’t give him the satisfaction by making any further guesses or comments.

  “If I had your money and I still had my parents living in such a dangerous place as our neighborhood, I would want them protected day and night. You know how rough things can get back there, A.J.”

  A.J. seems to be speechless. I know him well enough to realize what is probably going on in hismind right now. No matter, we cannot let this go any further, and we cannot let these people leave here without some sort of resolution. Their threat of potential violence is too real. And under no circumstances can we let the threat stand. A.J. will never get another night’s sleep with this hanging over his head.

  I casually walk to the desk and punch a key to alert the security team on duty. I do not intend to let these people leave here without learning what a mistake it is to threaten A.J. If I can’t convince them of the error of their ways, they may not leave here at all. They watch with indifference as I walk slowly back to the bar and take a position off to the side where I can speak to all three directly.

  “You may have made a mistake coming here with your demands,” I begin. “On the other hand, maybe not… perhaps this is an opportunity for all of us. But just for the record, what kind of money are we talking about? We may have a non-event on our hands. No sense getting worked up over nothing.”

  The three men look at me and then back to A.J.

  “Phil’s my business manager,” A.J. offers. “Anything we talk about will have to include him.”

  Lightning Fast and Rumble look to Dealer for a response.

  “Okay,” Dealer begins, “we’ll start low and slow. We’re talking about a grand a week for each of us. It’s a lot of responsibility… making sure A.J.’s family is safe and sound. Any expenses would be extra, of course.”

  “That’s it? Just money?” I ask.

  Dealer nods. “That’s it for now. Maybe more later… like transportation in the event we need to travel on occasion.”

  He smiles and elbows his buddy, Lightning. They are all enjoying the moment.

  “You have made your point and your pitch,” I reply slowly, “and now we’ll make ours. You have brought up a good point about security in the old neighborhood. None of us have thought about it… didn’t realize the danger, I suppose. But I want to be sure you are capable of holding up your end. That is… we don’t intend to hire protection from people incapable of doing the job properly. So I suggest we adjourn to the gym to check out your credentials. Fair enough?”

  Without waiting for any response, A.J. walks around the bar and we both lead the way to the gym. A.J. doesn’t know exactly what’s coming, but he’s all for getting out of here at this point. We get as far as the door and turn. The three men are still sitting at the bar, seemingly confused by the quick turn of events.

  “What’s the matter, guys? You’re not scared are you?” A.J. challenges. “If you’re going to look after my interests in the hood, then you’d better be able to handle yourselves.” His voice drops lower and becomes more determined. “Come on you chickenshit bastards.”

  The men move as one and follow us across the foyer. We walk down the hallway. There’s a man on the stairs and another back by the kitchen. We’re sort of surrounded… by the good guys. Right now,although they don’t know it, our job applicants couldn’t leave here if they wanted to.

  A.J. pushes the gym doors open and we enter single file. It’s our good fortune that tonight is a scheduled training session and four of the security staff are standing about in their karate training gear. This happy happenstance affords us a few options we ordinarily wouldn’t have at this time of day.

  “Gentlemen!” I call out, clapping my hands to get their attention. “We have a tryout today for a new security team.” Pointing to the three candidates who seem to be growing more reluctant by the minute, “These men would be responsible for the safety and welfare of A.J.’s family i
n the city. Although their offer is unsolicited, we are going to arrange an evaluation of sorts. In order to establish their credentials, we would like to have a tryout. This will be a no holds barred trial. In other words, anything goes, sort of a tough man contest. We want to establish conditions that would be as realistic as possible… the kind of thing likely to happen in the street.”

  The four security men look somewhat amused. I turn and look at the three would-be extortionists. They don’t look too happy right now. One might even think somewhat apprehensive. Lightning’s eyes are darting back and forth like he’s watching a pinball machine from the inside.

  “As I said, I want this to be as realistic as possible,” I continue, looking at the wiseguys, “so we will have the three of you attack one of our men. No one else will participate, regardless of the outcome. That’s a guarantee. Quickly now, make your selection or I will do it for you.”

  Lightning Fast and Rumble look momentarily at Dealer.

  “It’s your call, Rumble,” Dealer says, eyeing the men, “this is more your bag than mine.”

  “Let’s go, gentlemen. We don’t have time to discuss things like this. Make up your minds… you have until the count of three. One, two, … “

  “You!” Rumble shouts, pointing at Max. the smallest of the four men.

  Max is the smallest, but possibly the most vicious man in our entire crew. Probably has the old Napoleon, short-man complex. If he does, he has it in spades. Without further ado, Max launches himself at Lightning Fast with a flying kick that misses Fast’s head by a fraction of an inch. But it was nothing more than a diversion, spinning in mid-air, Max lands on his left foot and continues spinning towards Dealer. Max lashes out with another kick that lands smack in Dealer’s groin. Dealer groans and slowly curls forward and falls to the floor.

  Lightning Fast has moved to the side, while Rumble begins to dance, prepping himself for the combat to come. Meanwhile, both Rumble and Lightning Fast have moved apart. Everyone spreads out to give the combatants all the room they need. Max immediately charges Lightning Fast with a quick series of kicks, none of which are designed to land. Driving the taller man back, Max continues the attack until he senses Rumble approaching from the rear.