Lowcountry Punch

by Benjamin Blackmore

  Jason Corey, the man who had replaced Chad Rourke, stood up on a chair and began tapping a lighter against his champagne glass. Everyone gathered and shushed as he began to speak, his clenched fist in front of his face feigning a microphone. Every girl in the room was hot for him.

  “I propose a toast,” he said. “To Chad Rourke.” Everyone raised their glass. “We’ll never make this movie as good as he would have made it, but may it pay a worthy tribute to him. To Chad.” We all raised our glasses.

  Then everyone went back to their little conversations about the best shrimp and grits in town, their favorite spas in Europe, their new fur coat, whatever.

  About a half an hour later, I practically bumped into Jack. He had a huge grin on his face.

  “What’s got you so perked up?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I’m in a good mood, that’s all.” He’d already consumed too many drugs and too much booze. His words were slurred.

  “No reason?”

  “Love, Trav…love.”

  “Oh, yeah. Who is it this time?”

  “You’re getting ready to watch her walk right out of that elevator. Can’t you feel it? Love is in the air. El amor está en el aire.”

  “Quién es la muchacha afortunada?” I asked. I’d spent some time down in South America, too.

  Before Jack replied, Tela slipped her hand under my arm. “You two look handsome tonight.”

  “And you look gorgeous, Ms. Davies.” Jack kissed her other hand. Then she kissed me on the lips. She did look gorgeous. A light blue gown. More pearls. Looked like Shari had done a number to her hair, all tucked up intricately. Was she accepting an Oscar or what?

  Jack didn’t seem to care and then I found out why. He said, “Liz is on her way up.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Tela said sarcastically. “Shall I go hide in the shower?”

  “Not funny at all,” said Jack. “I do need you to steer clear of her, though. Is that possible?”

  “Am I your little puppy dog?”

  For a brief moment, I thought of taking Baroni’s way off the balcony into the pool, but maybe headfirst. Oh yes, I had questions. Liz? Liz was coming over? Wasn’t she in New York? Why was she coming? To see Jack? That thought pissed me off. My mind assaulted me with more questions. It was definitely time to go. I wasn’t coming back in until I had a machine gun in my hands.

  But before I could make a move, Liz came around the corner. She was underdressed in ripped jeans. Even though she was dressed casually, she owned the place and distracted several people from their conversations. I noticed Stephanie looking in her direction. I excused myself and jetted off.

  Rounding a corner, I nearly slipped on the floor of the kitchen and barreled into a chubby chef slicing an avocado. Jerry, read the cursive on his shirt, above Morph. “Excuse me,” I said, regaining my balance and positioning myself behind one of the walls.

  “Good Lord, man,” the chef said. “You look like the police are after you.”

  “Worse. A crazy woman.”

  “You want me to hit her in the head with a ham hock?” he asked, lifting one up. He seemed serious.

  “It would really help me out.”

  “What’s she look like?”

  He was going to do it. “You know what? I appreciate the offer, but I better handle her myself.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “Next time.”

  The chef went back to chopping, and I took a peek around the corner. Liz and Jack were talking next to the couch. Tela and Stephanie were nowhere in sight. I put my back up against the wall and waited.

  “Some strange game you’re playing,” the chef suggested, his knife hitting the cutting board repeatedly.

  “You have no idea. You got anything to drink back here?” He’d been nipping on a bottle of Crown, and he poured some over ice for me.

  A few minutes passed, and I looked again. Just as I turned my head around the corner, Stephanie almost knocked me down. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Is someone out to get you? Do you want me to protect you?”

  “Stephanie—”

  “It’s Eve, remember?”

  “Eve, I don’t have time for this. I thought you were taking off.” I heard the chef stop chopping behind me, and part of me hoped he was reaching for that ham hock. Instead he stepped next to me and addressed Stephanie. “Hello, there. Are you one of the actors? You really look familiar. What have you been in?”

  She ate up the compliment. “No, I’m just Ronnie’s friend.”

  “Nothing just about it. He’s a good man. Can I trouble you for a moment? I need someone to taste my guacamole. Your friend here refused. Would you, please?”

  “Sure.” She followed him deeper into the kitchen.

  My new best friend was bailing me out. I scoped out my getaway. The elevator was on the other side of the condo, and it was my only way out.

  It was crowded, and I was able to stay almost entirely unnoticed. I nodded at a couple people I knew along the way. I glanced over towards Liz; she hadn’t seen me yet. I was almost sure of it. I ducked and walked briskly to the elevator.

  32

  Tela was already waiting for the elevator. I started to turn but she saw me. “Are you leaving, too?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m not feeling that well.”

  She touched my forehead. “You do have a bit of a fever. I’m sorry, darling. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Open, door, open! That’s all I could think of as I stared at the elevator, wishing I could wrench the steel doors apart and jump down the shaft. For God’s sake, open! “No thanks, Tela. I need to get home.”

  “All the way to Savannah?”

  I nodded, stabbing my hands into my pockets.

  “You’re welcome to stay with me. You can ride in the limo. I’ve got a couch and plenty of room in the bed. I’m a healer. A bit of a medicine woman.”

  “No, thank you, Tela.”

  “You and I have unfinished business, and I don’t know why you keep fighting it.”

  Liz called my name as the doors opened. Of course, she didn’t say Trav or Travis. It was, “T.A.”

  I followed Tela into the elevator, refusing to turn my head. Then again, “T.A.”

  Close! Close! Close! The last thing I needed was the three of us in that elevator.

  “Maybe she’s why,” Tela offered in a low voice.

  That would be part of it, my little British fancy. I stood in the elevator, facing away from the doors. The walls of the elevator were made of carpet with long strips of metal. I could see the doors begin to close in the reflection, and then I accidentally saw Liz. We made eye contact.

  Yes, I am an idiot.

  I turned and thrust my hands in between the doors, and they opened back up. Then I stepped back into the vestibule, toward Liz.

  Some things we can’t control. Even the great Vincent van Gogh had his Ursula and Kay and all the other women Liz had told me about. All the women he had loved, all the heartache he had endured. My own paled in comparison, but I could empathize. The grand sorceress of them all stood only a few feet from me. I sure as hell couldn’t walk away from her.

  I told Tela to have a good evening. Once the elevator doors closed and she was gone, I took Liz by the arm and pulled her behind one wall, avoiding the direct line of sight into the living room.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  I squeezed her arm. It had gotten so loud in there that I had to speak into her ear. “It’s going to be hard for you to believe me right now, but you have to.” I squeezed her arm harder. “I’m a DEA agent, and I’m undercover right now. The cops are coming up any minute. Everybody’s going to jail. I want you to get in the elevator and go home. I don’t want you to get hurt. I’ll call you later and explain everything.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  She pulled away from me, her face full of doubt. She started to speak but stopped as a couple came around the corn
er, both wobbling, champagne glasses in their hands. Neither of us knew them. I turned one corner of my mouth into a smile, and they said hello as the man pressed the down button. Liz and I stared at each other as we waited for them to catch their ride. The couple began getting fresh with each other, and I leaned back toward Liz. “Go home. I’ll call you in a while. This is not a joke.”

  Right then, I could see, part of her believed me. Like she knew all along that I’d been hiding something, and this revelation was the missing piece to the puzzle.

  The couple stepped inside the elevator. So they could hear me, I said to Liz, “Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

  “I came here to get something,” she said. “That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “I’ll get it for you. What do you need?”

  “It’s a painting. I don’t know where it is.”

  The man in the elevator asked, “You two coming?”

  Liz looked at him. “We’ll get the next one. Thank you.”

  I couldn’t argue with her. I was too worried about making any more of a scene. Surely, Jack was about to round the corner, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was getting suspicious. “Look, I don’t want you to go to jail. You have to get out of here. And you can’t mention this to anybody, especially Jack. If you do—”

  “T.A., don’t start threatening me. If that’s even your name. Look, I’m going back in to get my painting, and I’m going to leave. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care what you have going on. Just leave me alone, all right?”

  “Don’t you breathe a word to Jack about this—”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You understand me?”

  “I’m not going to say anything to anybody.”

  In parting, I told her, “I hate seeing you under these circumstances, but it’s good seeing you. I miss you. I wanted to tell you all this for a long time but I couldn’t.”

  Without a word, Liz disappeared around the corner. She obviously wasn’t in the mood to be wooed. Not that my timing had been great. I should have left when I had the chance. After a safe amount of time, I walked back into the living room. People were dancing to “Billy Jean.” Liz was following Jack into his bedroom. He closed the door. What the hell was going on?

  I took the next elevator down and sprinted three hundred yards down the street. Baroni’s surveillance van read Mike’s Auto Glass Repair. Making sure no one saw me, I climbed in. Spock and Baroni both wore headphones and were sitting on stools in front of audio receivers. A cigarette burned in an ashtray. One small screen showed the entryway to the lobby.

  Baroni ripped off his headphones. “What’s Liz doing up there?”

  “No clue. Can you pull up the audio in Jack’s bedroom?”

  Baroni looked at Spock. “Do it.”

  “Go! Go!” I said.

  “I’m on it.”

  He twisted some knobs, and all of a sudden I heard the two old lovers speaking. Very crisp audio.

  “Let’s talk for a couple minutes,” Jack was saying. “Please.”

  “Did you hear me?” Liz asked. “I’ve got a flight out. I’m barely gonna make it.”

  “Five minutes won’t kill you.”

  “I said no! Give me the painting, Jack.”

  My mind was racing. I didn’t want to kill the operation but Liz’s safety was more important. Was she okay? I could still go in there as Travis Moody. Maybe the op wouldn’t be compromised. I was ready to dart back out the door but I listened further.

  “I have to talk to you,” Jack continued. “Forget your flight. Stay in Charleston with me.”

  “Why are you being like this? What happened to you?”

  “Forget your flight,” he barked. “Forget your fucking painting!”

  We heard something crash against the wall. Presumably her painting.

  “What is wrong with you!”

  Calmer, Jack said, “Just give me a few minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “You get the hell away from me.”

  “You need to show me some respect—”

  And that’s all I heard. I was out the side door and sprinting back toward the condo as fast as I could. Nothing mattered but Liz. I ran to the stairwell first, but the door was locked. I knew that it would be but I wasn’t thinking straight. The two bodyguards recognized me. I pressed the button. Waited for what felt like forever. Finally, I was on my way up.

  I shot out of the elevator and pushed my way through the crowd. Stephanie waved. I went straight to Jack’s door. Liz was coming out with a painting under her arm. She had a red mark above her cheek. Her shirt and hair were messed up. But worst of all, those brown eyes I’d come to know were shallow and lifeless. When she saw me, she began to bawl. Fought hard to hide it, though.

  “You okay?” I asked. She kept walking. I took her arm and asked again, “Are you okay?”

  “Get off me!” She pushed me away and rushed to the elevator.

  I turned back toward Jack’s open door. Looked inside. He was sitting up. There was a gash above his forehead. A leg of blood ran down his nose to his mouth. He was dazed. Wasn’t looking my way.

  The paperweight he’d shown me—the one Ava Gardner had hit Howard Hughes with—lay next to him on the rug. Liz’s weapon of choice. How fitting. Thank God she’d fought him off.

  I wanted to finish him off.

  But I didn’t. Before he saw me, I went back across the living room. Men At Work’s “Overkill” was playing now. Stephanie grabbed my arm. I jerked it away from her. “I don’t want to see you again.” I didn’t stick around to listen to her lies.

  The elevator door was closing. I jabbed my hand in with only inches of space left. It opened back up. Liz was in there by herself, holding the painting to her chest. I leaned against a wall and took some deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. I didn’t have many more of those sprints left in me.

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  Nothing.

  “Did he touch you? Did he do that to your cheek?”

  She shook her head, not like she was saying, “No,” but more like she didn’t want to talk about it. Despite her best efforts to fight it, tears ran down her face.

  The elevator doors opened. I followed her out, not making a show in front of the guards. Once we were out into the parking lot, I said, “Can I get you out of here?”

  “I have a flight to catch.” She was trying to outwalk me. I wouldn’t let her.

  “Can I give you a ride?”

  “No. Give me some space.”

  “I’m not letting you drive, Liz.”

  She turned and screamed at me, telling me to leave her alone.

  “Let me give you a ride to the airport. I’ll return your car for you. Save you a lot of time.”

  She was thinking about it.

  “I won’t say a word to you if you don’t want me to. But I can’t let you drive.”

  She turned and threw me the keys. We both climbed in and I drove the Mustang out of the lot. I called Chester. “What the hell is going on?” he asked.

  “I’m taking Liz Coles to the airport. She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “What’s going on with Jack?”

  “He’s fine. I think we’re still good to go. Let me drop her off and I’ll call you. We’re still waiting on the word.”

  “Lots of people waiting on you, Reddick.”

  “I know. Call you in fifteen.”

  I hung up and looked back at Liz. “Let’s go to the airport.” I ignited the engine.

  We crossed the new bridge in silence. Once we were on the highway, I put a hand on her arm. Something told me that was all I could do. A human touch. A reassuring hand. The smallest yet only possible gesture of love that I could offer at the moment. I wanted to hold her, but I knew she didn’t want that. She couldn’t even look at me.

  There was nothing to do now but take care of the woman I loved. Be there for her. Not feed my own anger and hatred, or my need to find savage ret
ribution. My wanting to know what had happened up there. This wasn’t about me at all. I pushed my anger away and thought only of her. Of what I could do for her. Of what she was going through.

  But the silence had to break.

  33

  What could I say to her? Should I comment on the heavy traffic? Should I ask her why she was there? Should I ask her what I could do? Or should I just drive? Both hands on the wheel, speeding towards the airport—the woman I loved to my right, a hurricane wielding its might not too many miles behind us.

  As I sped up I-26, I put my hand on hers. “Do you want to call the airline? See if they’ve cancelled the flight?”

  She tilted her head down. I didn’t know what that meant. I put my eyes back on the road.

  What could I do in the face of that anger? I could say I didn’t have control, but what did that really mean? Was I that weak? I didn’t need to talk to someone about it. I needed to deal with it. Every time the devil climbed back into my heart and soul, I needed to man up and fight the good fight. The good part of me wanted to be there for Liz, and the bad part of me wanted to be there for Jack—every step of the way, blow by blow, knocking him too far to ever climb back. The battle raged, and I fought on.

  “I didn’t want to lie to you,” I said to her. “I didn’t have a choice. It’s part of being an agent. It’s the way it is.” I couldn’t tell if she was listening. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Don’t bother talking. None of it really matters anymore. You’re no better than he is.”

  “You know that’s not true. I’ve done nothing but love you—”

  “You’ve done nothing but lie to me. Don’t change that story, too.” She was tough, no doubt about it. Not one to forgive easily, not that that’s what I deserved.

  “It wasn’t all lies,” I said. “Nothing I said about my feelings was a lie.”

  “Let’s not do this.”

  “I am doing this, Liz. I’ve waited a long time to say these things to you. That day on the porch—when I told you it was over—it was one of the worst days of my life. I didn’t have a choice, though. I’d just found out about you and Jack. I was two months into an investigation that was going to put him in jail for a long time. I couldn’t tell you that.”