Hannibal Jones - 04 - Damaged Goods

by Austin S. Camacho

  “Not really,” Hannibal said. “Spotted her on the boardwalk a couple of nights ago and it looked like she was a good connection for some… product. She belong to you?”

  “That’s right,” Rod said, thrusting a hand toward Hannibal. “Rod Mantooth. You want to talk to Mariah, you talk to me.” Hannibal took Rod’s fist in his own and endured a fierce, crushing grip. Because he expected it, he managed to keep his hand from being mashed.

  “So, I guess you the man,” Hannibal said. “That’s cool. I don’t know nobody down this way, not yet anyway, so I guess I need to know you. Let’s go inside and talk a little business.”

  Rod seemed to still be evaluating Hannibal when Mariah closed in on them. Hannibal noticed that her white, spaghetti strap heels were also quite high. Three-inch heels made good legs look great but Cindy had told him they were bad for the feet. These girls didn’t seem to mind. Mariah showed small but perfect teeth and ran her fingertips up Hannibal’s chest.

  “Let’s keep him, daddy,” she said over her shoulder to Rod. “I might get bored while you’re training the newbie.”

  Rod smiled with only one side of his mouth. “We’ll see if you earn that kind of a reward. Come on inside, dude.”

  They walked through the porch, which was choked with wicker furniture. Crossing the main threshold Hannibal spotted an alarm box beside the doorsill. A small white fixture hung in the upper left corner of the room. A motion sensor, Hannibal knew. Rod certainly didn’t want any uninvited visitors.

  The house itself was cool inside but that wasn’t the reason that Hannibal felt small bumps rising on his skin. He sensed an odd tone, a mood filling the air as if an electric undercurrent connected everyone in the room. Mariah appeared to float free, not at all like the captive woman Sheryl had implied. The blonde boy rested a hand on the back of Sheryl’s neck, guiding her steps and making a clear declaration of ownership. The third girl, the one Hannibal still had labeled Cherry in his mind, stayed in Rod’s trail, following at a respectful distance. She didn’t seem as comfortable in the heels or in the atmosphere as the others were, but her tentative smile expressed a brave effort to show she had what it takes. Hannibal stopped in the middle of the room, looking at no one in particular.

  “Hey, Bucktooth. Any of these other people got names?”

  A quick flash of anger rose and just as quickly faded in Rod’s eyes. “It’s Mantooth, dude. My man here is Derek. He takes care of people who can’t remember my name right.”

  The younger man stepped forward and shook Hannibal’s hand. “Derek Steel,” he said through an exaggerated smile.

  “Derek Steel?” Hannibal repeated. “That your real name, or you work in porn?”

  Derek’s face darkened in a diluted imitation of Rod’s. “Do it say Smoke on your birth certificate, wiseass?”

  “All right, don’t get excited,” Hannibal said, already knowing that at some point he was going to have to kick this boy’s ass. “Derek it is. Now what about the ladies?”

  “I guess you already know Sheryl,” Rod said. The platinum blonde lowered her gaze to smile at Hannibal’s shoes. “Mariah, she’s the queen bee.” To Hannibal’s surprise, Mariah also faced him and lowered her eyes. “The new girl is Missy.” Again, eyes lowered and her head bowed. Derek chuckled and Rod wore a look of pride. Hannibal’s impression was that he was fishing for a compliment.

  “You sure got them trained good.”

  “Ah, a man who knows,” Rod said. “Sheryl, get Smoke a beer.” Sheryl’s head bowed slightly again, and she walked as quickly as she could without running toward the kitchen. Like that, Hannibal was accepted. Rod pressed his fists into his waist and made another proclamation.

  “You girls get those groceries put away while I show Smoke around the place.”

  Rod ushered Hannibal upstairs for a tour. They peeked into three bedrooms with queen size beds and another, Rod’s of course, that held a king size bed. Hannibal also noticed the alarms wired to every window. On their way back down a hall they met Sheryl. She was holding a tall mug with both hands. As Hannibal approached her, she presented it to him with a smile and another small bow of her head.

  “Thanks,” he said, accepting the mug. Then, unsure if thank you was expected under the circumstances, he added, “Good girl.” Better to be condescending, he thought. Sheryl’s face brightened, and she glanced at Rod as if she had made some point. Rod ignored her and moved Hannibal on through the house.

  They returned to the ground floor to see the two smaller bedrooms. One of them held only a single bed. The fifth held no bed at all, having been converted into an office. A computer and every peripheral Hannibal could name were crowded onto a cheap desk, the kind you buy as a kit and have to assemble. The computer’s flat screen monitor still bore a small sticker indicating that it had been a free upgrade. Brand new, Hannibal thought. He noted the stack of CD ROMs on the desk, but doubted that the disc Rod stole from Anita would be lying there among the clutter.

  “Nice setup,” Hannibal said. “How fast is it?” He stepped forward toward the computer desk. Rod’s right arm shot forward, barring Hannibal’s progress.

  “You don’t go in there.”

  “Hey, I just wanted to see…”

  “It’s seven hundred megahertz,” Rod said. “The house came with the high speed cable internet connection. And, you don’t go in there.”

  “Okay. I’m not the kind that gets in somebody else’s stash.”

  “That’s good,” Rod said with a cold smile. “Bad things happen to that kind.”

  Hannibal’s voice dropped low and he held Rod’s eyes. “Yeah, like the shit that happens to guys who threaten me.” Then he raised his palms, smiled and stepped back. Challenging Rod was not the way to get into his sick little family. Hannibal would have to surrender the alpha male position but retain enough respect to capture, and maintain a firm grip on, the number two spot.

  Turning away he noticed that Mariah had seen their exchange. She diverted her eyes from his but her smile communicated far more than her eyes would have. Then Rod snapped her name and she almost shivered. The warm frisson of fear, Hannibal thought. A chill. A tingle. That same feeling he enjoyed on a good roller coaster as a kid. She got it from Rod, and she seemed to like it.

  “Go tell Missy it’s time for her to model those new swim suits. Want her to look just right for our little party. We’ll be in the living room waiting.”

  Mariah dared a pout. “You’re going to pick her,” she said in a voice dripping with disappointment. He raised an eyebrow, and she hurried away.

  In the living room Hannibal surveyed the scene for dynamics. A white leather sofa sat beside a black leather recliner. A white easy chair was turned at a ninety-degree angle to the recliner. A small coffee table was in front of the sofa. Sandalwood scented smoke drifted up from a stick of incense burning on the table. The ottoman at the end of the coffee table was accessible from either chair.

  Rod plopped into the big recliner. Derek planted himself in the center of the white leather sofa, his arms stretched across its back. He was comfortable in his place as second chair, dominating the part of the room that Rod didn’t hold. Too bad for him.

  Sheryl entered the room from the far side, nearer Rod than Derek. She paused as Hannibal crossed in front of her, hooking the ottoman with a foot and dragging it closer to Rod’s chair. He turned to sit on the ottoman and face Rod. Sheryl started to pass him, moving toward the sofa.

  “So tell me big man,” Hannibal began, “what’s this big party you were telling Mariah about?” As he spoke his left hand darted out, fingers sliding into the back of Sheryl’s waistband. Without losing eye contact with Rod, he pulled her down onto his knee. He could only imagine the exchange of expressions between her and Derek. He had to keep his attention on Rod to demonstrate that Derek’s reaction, and Sheryl’s feeling on the matter, were of no concern to him. Rod’s grin told him that he had made the right move.

  “You know, I got an instinct for pe
ople,” Rod said, pushing the chair back and raising the footrest. “I like you. I think you and me, we’re from the same school.”

  While Hannibal tried to keep the acid bile down out of his throat, Mariah stepped back into the room. Hannibal noticed that the other two men had dropped their shoes at the door. Mariah had changed from her beach flip-flops to white spike heels. She tapped over to Rod, whispered, “She’s ready” through a seductive smile, and lowered herself to her knees in one smooth motion. Shifting over onto one hip she rested both hands on the arm of the chair with practiced grace, and centered her chin on the backs of her hands. It was “I Dream of Genie” cute, and Rod rewarded her with a pat on the head. Hannibal had seen it described in writing on a screen, but watching a woman actually move through those motions was entirely different.

  “She’s exquisite,” Hannibal said. “I take it the sister is newer.”

  Rod actually glowed at the compliment. “Yeah, well, some guys raise retrievers, right? This is harder, but a lot more rewarding. Okay, Missy, you’re on.”

  All eyes followed Missy’s entrance. She wore a one-piece suit in the same cherry red as the bikini she had on before. She stepped across the room as if she was on a runway and flipped her long, thick mass of straightened black hair in a childish imitation of a fashion model move. She turned slowly, arching her back a little. Even on the exposed parts of her perfectly rounded behind her complexion was uniform, smooth and even, like Belgian chocolate. Rod nodded and smiled, and waved her away.

  “Isn’t she the sweetest?” he said when Missy was gone. “Mariah found her. Practically begged to get in with us. I think she knows who can train her right. The party I mentioned before will be her, uh, her initiation. After that, I’m thinking of a long sea voyage. I’m getting sick of this place.”

  “Really?” Hannibal said. “Wish I could just get in the wind for a while. Had to leave D.C. in kind of a hurry.”

  Missy returned in another red outfit. This time she wore a satin tank top that didn’t quite hang to her navel, and a thong that left her rear completely exposed. After noticing the perfect shape of her legs as they moved, Hannibal’s gaze moved up to her eyes. The smile was real, but he could see that Missy wasn’t totally comfortable in this bathing suit. He didn’t understand why a woman would agree to embarrass herself this way, but it reflected a weakness of spirit that made him ache in a place he couldn’t identify.

  “So, a big party, eh?” he said, keeping his emotions out of his voice. “Sounds like big fun, especially if this initiation is what I expect it is.”

  Speaking across Rod’s lap, Mariah said, “I’m hoping that Daddy will invite you tomorrow night, Smoke. He’ll be occupied for quite a while with the newbie and I’ll need someone to,” he hung on the sigh that filled her long pause, before she said, “talk to.”

  Hannibal’s urge to answer was interrupted by a gentle hand kneading his shoulder. Sheryl seemed to be expressing an interest in him too.

  “That’s the one,” Rod bellowed, capturing everyone’s attention. “That’s the outfit for you, Missy. You wear that to the party, and in fact I think you should have it for the big cruise.”

  Missy smiled and nodded her head in a move that was almost a curtsy. She left the room a bit faster than necessary, as is she was in a hurry to get out of sight. Hannibal wished he could comfort her, tell her that the nightmare she had volunteered for would end soon, but his focus was on Rod’s words.

  “Cruise? You mean the party’s not going to be here?”

  Rod emptied his glass and handed it to Mariah. “Sure it is. Day after tomorrow. But I’m planning on a nice, long trip next week. Floating on down to The Keys maybe. I’ll just take my crew here on down for some tropical fun.”

  “Damn, you must have some heavy bread,” Hannibal said. He thought, Damn, you must have already sold the formula.

  Got a nice deal in the works,” Rod said, his eyes glazing over as his face adopted a dreamy expression. “Soon as I tie up some loose ends with this deal I’m working on, life’s going to be the way it should have been all along.”

  “All right! Sounds like your star’s on the rise,” Hannibal said. He thought, All right! He hasn’t completed the deal yet.

  “Smoke, what’s coming is going to make everything before look like small time,” Rod said, rubbing Mariah’s head again. “I been working on this one for a long time. Had to make the right contacts, lay some groundwork, you know. But this is it, the big score, and after that I’ll have some serious juice.”

  “I can see it. At sea, on your own yacht I bet, with just your posse here,” Hannibal said, checking the faces in the room. “Classy, but it seems to me things ain’t too balanced here. I count three fine ho’s, but only you two G’s.”

  “We manage,” Derek called from the sofa.

  Hannibal leaned in closer, pushing his sunglasses up his nose with an index finger. “Look here, an operator like you might need some serious backup when you roll with the big boys.” Halfway through that sentence Hannibal glanced over at Derek and snorted. “You know, somebody who’ll get some respect when they talk to people.” He felt Sheryl’s hand slowly rubbing his back. She had already switched sides.

  Hannibal also felt Rod’s hard eyes assessing him. Had he overstepped? Holding eye contact with the man, Hannibal handed his glass to Sheryl and said, “I’m empty” in a flat tone. She hopped off his lap and headed for the kitchen. Rod’s smile grew in very small increments. His gaze shrank the room to just the two of them.

  “I might be able to use somebody who knows how to make a deal.”

  “I’m as street as they come,” Hannibal said, the easiest lie he had ever told. “Been hustling all my life. I know how to deal.”

  “Can you fight?”

  “I get the job done,” Hannibal said, grinning.

  Rod turned toward Mariah, as if for a hug. “Takes more than muscle, right babe?”

  Without warning his beefy arm swung back like a flail toward Hannibal’s smile.

  -17-

  Hannibal’s left hand snapped up, catching Rod’s wrist a couple of inches before the fist reached his face. Rod’s arm hung there in space, vibrating in Hannibal’s grip, testing his strength. That backhand blow might have broken Hannibal’s jaw if it had reached its target. Rage boiled up from his gut but he kept it locked behind clenched teeth. As much as he wanted to break Rod’s grinning face, he knew that a fight at this point would not get him any closer to his real objective, Anita Cooper’s stolen legacy. Instead he pushed his face even closer to Rod’s, pressing his chest against the arm of the chair, showing his teeth like an angry wolfhound. His free hand rose to his face and he slid his glasses away. His stare focused every ounce of his fury on Rod’s empty eyes.

  “You do that again, sucker,” Hannibal said in a low flat voice, “you’d best be prepared to throw down.”

  Rod returned his stare, and it was obvious that he was not intimidated. Hannibal noticed how quiet the room had become. No one moved. After a few tense seconds, Rod’s arm relaxed and he pulled it away from Hannibal’s grip. One eyebrow rose, and a new appraisal seemed to be taking place.

  “They green?” Rod asked. It took Hannibal a moment to realize that the conversation had moved to a discussion of his eyes.

  “Sometimes. Sometimes blue in the right light.”

  Rod’s flash grin returned. “A nigger with hazel eyes. Well I’ll be damned.” He swung his hand forward at Hannibal’s head, but it was a playful feint this time, and Hannibal blocked it with ease. “You’re unique. I like unique. Fits in with my destiny.”

  Hannibal backed away, swallowing Rod’s casual use of the hated word. A cold glass pushed into his hand, indicating that Sheryl was back. “Oh, you got a destiny and shit?”

  “Yeah. I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you end up sticking around.”

  “Well, that might be interesting,” Hannibal said, standing, “but right now I’m getting a little itchy about where I left my ride.
” Hannibal gulped down half of the beer. Everyone but Rod stood up, as if to recognize his leaving.

  “I’ll drop you at your car,” Derek said.

  “Don’t sweat yourself. Blondie here can take me. She knows where I’m parked.”

  “I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride,” Mariah said, moving in and cutting Sheryl out of Hannibal’s space. She gave him a warm parting hug, one hand sliding into his back pocket to squeeze his behind. He held his smile, but caught the disapproval on Rod’s face and the disappointment on Sheryl’s. If he wanted to maintain the delicate balance in his relationship to Rod, he needed to be aware of the lines he should not cross.

  “Maybe another time,” he said, returning the hug before pulling away. “For now, I think Sheryl will take good care of me. Let’s roll, Shorty.”

  * * * * *

  Sheryl pulled into a parking space three cars ahead of Hannibal’s car and pushed the gearshift into park. Hannibal thanked her for the lift and popped his door, more than ready to return to the normal world.

  “Don’t you want to come up?” she asked. “For a drink or something?”

  “Or something?”

  By way of explanation, Sheryl leaned to the side and pressed a kiss onto Hannibal’s mouth. Despite its startling degree of passion, the kiss seemed tinged with desperation and loneliness, two things Hannibal didn’t expect a woman in her position to feel. But then, maybe being treated like a second-class citizen had its similarities to being alone.

  “That’s nice babe, but I got things to do.”

  “Don’t you like me?” Sheryl asked, sliding a hand across his chest. “You pulled me away from Derek, so you must want me.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get the chance to break you off, but you’re going to have to wait. I can drop by tomorrow.”

  “But I’m ready right now,” she said, sliding her fingertips up the inside of his thigh. “And tomorrow we’re all going with Rod up to someplace in Maryland to pick up his car. Right now the apartment is empty. And I saw how Mariah was looking at you back at the house.”