Lowcountry Punch

by Benjamin Blackmore

  The two girls closest to the door got out first. Then Jack and Jason. The rest of us followed. I still hadn’t decided how to handle it. All I knew was that he would recognize me if he got a good look. There was almost no way around it. Despite his appearance as a country boy from the woods, his skills as an officer couldn’t be denied.

  Being the gentleman that I was, I let Tela shuffle out first. She grabbed my hand and pulled, saying, “I’ll protect you, baby.” Now, I do have to admit that even though I wasn’t intending on committing any sort of sin, it was a wee bit of a confidence boost to have a famous actress all over me. I had no intentions of giving her the pleasure of a conquest and that made me feel even better.

  The immediate issue at hand required my trained and focused attention. As I put a foot onto the shoulder of the two-lane road and stood, my first inclination was to run. What other options did I have? I could attack Long, but that would be hard to explain—especially later, when Jack would discover I wasn’t going to spend a year in the slammer for attacking an officer. If I stood in line next to the others, he would peg me, say he knew me, and maybe even say my real name. One other idea came to mind. I could go hop into his cruiser and see what happened. I needed some way to speak to him without the others hearing. Just a moment to explain the situation.

  I decided to run. The best plan was to cross the street and hit the closest boardwalk, then get lost on the beach. He’d have to shoot me to catch me. Just as I was about to make my move, Tela made one of her own. She stepped toward Long.

  He shined his light in her face. She raised her hand to shield herself from the light and started with the damn sexiest talk I’d heard in a while.

  “Officer,” she started, “we’re just out having fun. I’m so sorry I spoke to you that way.”

  Then, something magical happened. And the possibility of it hadn’t even occurred to me.

  “Are you—” he started. He looked like he’d just seen Jesus Christ walk out of a UFO. “Are you Tela Davies?”

  “You’re exactly correct, officer.”

  I stepped back and hung close to the open door of the limo, hiding in the darkness of the night. Before me, I watched Officer Darby Long enter a new world, one where no one existed except him and the great princess of Hollywood, Tela Davies. Starstruck would be an understatement. His world began to revolve and orbit on a plane of ecstasy, and a smile wide enough to hold the Yorktown aircraft carrier stretched across his face.

  “I cannot believe it,” Officer Long said, his eyes glazing over. I could have drawn his gun and pointed it at him and he wouldn’t have noticed. He finally got a few words out. “I just don’t know what to say. My girlfriend and sister would have a heart attack. I’m about to, too! Gee whiz, you’re making me shake. Please excuse me.”

  She took his hand and looked into his eyes and said, “I’m just a girl from Liverpool. Nothing special. Believe me.” Officer Long nearly fell backwards in enchantment. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, pushing him even further. It would not have surprised me if his head spontaneously combusted right there. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  She stepped a little closer and asked, “Is there any reason you pulled us over? We’re dreadfully tired. I just want to go to bed.”

  “I won’t keep you a minute longer. The least I could do is show you some Southern hospitality.” He looked at the others and then his gaze moved over to me. I turned my head quickly, avoiding eye contact. But Long was blind to everyone except Tela.

  Still holding her hand, he said to Tela, “I know everybody probably asks for your autograph and all that stuff, so I won’t do that, but…”

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Can I just get a hug from ya?”

  She smiled and let go of his hand. “That’s so cute.” She slipped her arms around him like she’d loved him for years, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he melted.

  20

  I got back to my Charleston house about 7 a.m. and slept until after lunch. I had every intention of heading to Savannah afterwards, but Liz called and changed my mind. She said she’d be over later, and I couldn’t resist.

  Before she arrived, I made a phone call that I’d made every month since the night I shot Robert Vasquez. The US Marshall in charge of tracking down Diego picked up quickly.

  “Agent Reddick, you’re like clockwork. I don’t blame you, though. I would be, too.”

  “How are things going?”

  “I’m afraid nothing new to report.”

  “Well, it helps to know that someone still remembers he’s out there.”

  “I haven’t given up. We’re still looking.”

  “Thank you.” Given that Liz was coming over, the lack of progress in finding Vasquez didn’t bother me as much as usual.

  I hadn’t stayed up that late in a long time, and my morning nap didn’t help much. I went down to the water and swam for a while. It helped. I sipped a cup of coffee, waiting on Liz.

  We tore each other’s clothes off the minute she came in the door, and we ended up in my tub drinking champagne shortly after. With her back nestled against my chest, she fit perfectly between my legs. I held her there for a long time, hoping there would be many more times like this.

  Anna came to mind, but only for a second. I thought about how it didn’t hurt anymore, and how I didn’t ache for her. For the first time, I knew that I just wanted her to be happy. Liz was all that mattered.

  She leaned back against the other end of the tub, resting her feet on the tops of my thighs. I took them in my hands and massaged them while we softly spoke to each other.

  Unable to wait any longer, I pulled her toward me. She stood in the water and bending down, kissed me. “Not so fast.” She took my hand and led me out of the tub.

  I followed her into the shower. We pressed against each other, letting the hot water splash on top of us. I soaped her with shower gel, my hands following her curves like the hands of a sculptor. She knelt and bathed my legs and feet, kissing me and loving me as the citrus smell of lemon filled my head. My knees became weak. I stepped out of the shower and left Liz to finish pampering herself.

  I dried myself off and went into the bedroom with the bottle of champagne. Lying naked and erect, as it were, I waited on Liz, marking time with the patience of a gladiator awaiting battle. Finally, Liz turned off the shower.

  A minute later, she poked her head around. She was wearing my Shady Brady cowboy hat, and nothing else. She winked below the brim.

  I patted the bed.

  She came around the corner wearing nothing but the hat and those tan lines and the confidence that was such a part of her beauty. I knew I would forever compare all women and moments to Liz and the way I saw her that night. The way she moved toward me. The way she moved me. The way she looked right down to the core of my being. Standing there before me, she was the absolute definition of sensuality. The Thievery Corporation’s “Un Simple Histoire” played in the background with LouLou’s French vocals laced over a beat that might have been written for that night.

  “What do you think? Is this a good look?” She turned around slowly.

  I nearly found a new religion. “I think you can pull it off.”

  Liz lifted her arms in the air and, with her eyes inside of me, she moved to the sounds, her legs slowly bending as she danced, the round curves of her feminine figure casting a moving shadow across the wall behind her. She finally climbed onto the bed and kissed me with wet, pouty lips.

  My memory of that night is almost too special to put into words. Let’s just say the first time I made love to Liz was what the first astronaut felt entering space. I didn’t know that depth of feeling existed.

  Afterwards, as I drifted off to sleep, I knew it was time for me to tell her who I really was. I loved her.

  The team met the next day for a surveillance recap in a suite at a Comfort Inn in West Ashley. All I could really think about was Liz cooking me dinner later. Couldn’t wait t
o see her. Steve would have killed me if he knew I wasn’t going back to Savannah tonight, but I had to see her again and tell her the truth. I couldn’t lie any longer.

  And I had to tell her I loved her.

  Baroni had nearly blown the op earlier in the day and was suicidal about it. From what Steve had told me on the phone, he’d been following Jack and a girlfriend on King Street, taking pictures. Jack saw Baroni and confronted him. Baroni barely got out of it, saying he was taking pictures for a new photography book.

  I fired one off the bow the second we began. “How’s that book coming along, Ms. Leibovitz? What’s it called?” A round of laughter.

  Baroni glared at me and with his scratchy voice, said, “That’s hysterical, Reddick. Are you done?”

  “I’m done, sweetie.”

  “You’re the one who hasn’t delivered a damn thing. I got news for you. You’re not impressing anybody right now.”

  “Well, that makes two of us, doesn’t it?”

  Baroni stood. “You want to get beat?”

  “You wanna die?”

  “Both of you shut the fuck up!” Steve shouted.

  I shook my head and kept quiet.

  After he’d cooled off, Baroni stood up and plugged his camera into the TV to show us the latest images. There were shots of Ronnie and Jack with various friends, most of whom we knew. One of Jack walking on King Street, going into Half Moon Outfitters; another of Jack turning his head as a good-looking girl passed him.

  Then I saw the shot that changed everything. It was a photo of Jack talking to Liz—my Liz—on the sidewalk. They stood underneath a palm tree outside of Williams-Sonoma. Two bags sat at her feet. Probably something for the meal she was cooking for me later. What the hell? Did they know each other?

  “This is Elizabeth Coles,” Baroni said. “I ran her ‘Stang’s tags. The College is renting it. I gave them a call. She’s in town teaching a summer art class, and they’re putting her up. Gave her a car. I’m not sure how she knows Jack. We need to do some digging.” He flipped to the next shot. Jack was walking behind her. “It looked like she was trying to get away from him. I couldn’t hear anything, but I could tell she wasn’t happy. Some kind of a lover’s quarrel.” Then a shot of them at her car. Jack was closing her door.

  My gut seized, and a swarm of emotions erupted inside of me. Suddenly it all made sense. I knew how she knew Jack.

  21

  The pieces fit. Liz had been extremely reluctant to talk about her past relationship but I had pried a few facts out of her. She said he came from a lot of money. She also said he cheated on her. And, of course, he owned a damn art gallery.

  How obvious could it have been, you fool!

  Jack hadn’t talked much about his past, either, but I did know some of it from Kado. I knew about Kayla Martin, the girl from Charlotte, and how he’d cheated on her with Tela. But what did Liz have to do with it? Why hadn’t Kado mentioned her? Had he lied to me?

  I came out of my shock to hear Baroni talking to me. Something about how good-looking Liz was. I mumbled something and excused myself. Pushing open the bathroom door, I stumbled in. I lowered my head over the sink and splashed water onto my face. Deep down, I knew the truth. This was going to be one nasty mess for AUSA Cannon, and it was hell of embarrassing for me, but what hurt most was the two of them together. I hated that he had touched her. That they had probably slept together.

  On the road twenty minutes later, I dialed Kado’s number. Rain had begun to fall.

  “Can you talk right now?” I could hear the sounds of Morph’s busy kitchen in the background.

  “Let me walk outside. It’s loud in here.” A few seconds later, he came back to the phone.

  Remembering how fragile Kado was, I spoke softly. “You lied to me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about Kayla Martin. Liz Coles. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

  His silence said it all.

  “Why?” I asked. I sped up, changing lanes. “Tell me why you lied to me. You’ve caused some big problems.”

  Nothing.

  “Words need to start flowing out of your mouth, Kado, or I will come to your restaurant and beat the shit out of you in front of your customers. Who is Kayla Martin?”

  “Jack’s ex. He dated her before Liz.”

  “Why didn’t you mention Liz? You held back. Why?”

  “I saw the two of you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The day y’all got me out of jail.”

  “Keep talking.”

  “We’d run out of Jagermeister, so I went over to see if I could borrow some from the Blind Tiger. I saw you and Liz together. Saw you kissing.”

  “And?”

  “And I kept thinking about it, trying to make sense of it. At first, I wondered if somehow my whole arrest had been a set up.”

  “Like I was the one who stuffed a bunch of coke up your nose and a bottle of whiskey down your throat.”

  “No, but that you’d been watching me. Maybe you had known Liz for a while, and you were trying to get Jack back for cheating on her. I don’t know. Nothing made sense.” He words were caked in desperation and fear. He knew I had his future in my hands. “Then I realized how much of a hole it could put in the case,” he admitted. “When you asked me about his dating life that day in Savannah, I came so close to saying something. But I held back. I thought I had a way to save my friends and destroy the case built against them.” He paused. “So I told you that Kayla Martin was the last girl he dated. You would have done the same thing.”

  “I wouldn’t be in this position! You think those people are your friends? Are you nuts? When have I tried to screw you? I never did, did I? Not once. You have put me in a shitty situation, Kado. I hope you realize that.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I almost told you—”

  “Almost told me. We are working together. I’m trying to keep you alive, and you go behind my back and lie to me.”

  “I know.”

  “What else do I need to know? Come clean now. I don’t want any more surprises. Maybe, just maybe, I won’t throw you in jail and bring every damn charge back on the table.”

  I was flying past the other cars. I looked down at the speedometer. Over ninety. The Jeep didn’t like it at all, especially in the rain. I pulled my foot off the pedal, and it stopped shaking.

  Not that I’d really care if I slid off the side of the road and rolled into the woods.

  “There’s nothing else,” Kado answered.

  “You better hope not. Be around tomorrow. I want to know everything you held back about Liz.” I hung up on him.

  My testimony would be the key to taking down Jack and any other sources. Now it was compromised. A DEA agent’s testimony is gold unless the defense can dig up some dirt. My relationship with Liz had the potential to destroy every bit of my credibility and would be priceless to a defense lawyer. Just like Kado thought, they could say that I had personal motivations to bring Jack Riley down. They could even talk about entrapment.

  I had to tell my team, but it wasn’t going to be tonight. I had to see her first.

  22

  When I got home Liz’s Mustang was parked in my driveway. I was definitely not in a completely sane state of mind, and I thought for a moment of not pulling in, of calling her and telling her I had to work late, giving her some kind of excuse.

  Instead I walked slowly through the downpour to the front door. I didn’t bother wiping my shoes off on the mat as I entered. Tom Waits was coming out of the speakers loud, his ghostly voice layered on top of a thick stand-up bass line. My mood was wild—and I don’t mean a crazy, drunken college kid out on the town kind of wild. I mean Lord of the fucking Flies, swinging from the goddamn trees wild.

  Liz was in the kitchen. She stood in front of the oven in her underwear, her back to me, an apron tied around her waist. I smelled soy. She swayed to the slow swinging beat of the music, her elbow moving
back and forth as she tended to whatever was in the pan in front of her.

  I wanted her, but I was so angry, too. Not at her, but at the situation. At myself. Waits sang about diamonds on his windshield, and I crept toward her. She had no idea I was there. I wrapped my right arm around her waist and touched her stomach.

  She flung the spatula into the air. “You scared me—”

  I reached around with my left hand and covered her mouth, quieting her. The spatula hit the ground. As her warm breath blew against my hand, I could sense her fear. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was scared, too.

  The need took hold of me, and I reached between her legs with my right hand, pressing my body against hers. She opened her mouth behind my fingers and I began kissing her neck, pulling her lower body into mine. I took my hand away from her mouth and pulled her underwear down. Felt her warmth as her back arched and our bodies convulsed.

  I spun her around, taking the apron off her neck, removing her bra, finally kissing her lips. She was with me, on the same page somehow. She pulled me to the floor and ripped the buttons off my shirt, pulling it off me. Then she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans.

  The contents of the pan kept cooking as we made love on the tile below. Dense, dangerous love. If it was love at all. I might say it was beyond love.

  Or maybe it was far less. Maybe it was two people stuck between worlds, one where they belonged together, and one where it wasn’t meant to be.

  Later, we ate overcooked stir-fry, laughing about it. Liz went to shower, and I took a seat in one of the two rocking chairs near the screen. Rain battered the roof and splashed from the downspouts.

  A friend had left an unopened pack of Marlboros when he visited a month earlier, and for some reason I’d kept them. I pulled off the cellophane and took out a cigarette. I lit it with a match and drew the smoke into my lungs. I hadn’t touched one in years, although there had been times when I’d wanted one. It was every bit as good as it used to be.