by Weber, Carl
Navid had done his research so we hopped in a cab and went to Old Town Valencia, which was basically boys’ town. Restaurant, bars, and businesses flew rainbow flags in the windows letting the whole world know that they were gay friendly. We ducked into a place, ordered up some beers and food. I was starting to feel real comfortable around Navid and figured I would try and connect on a personal level.
“What was that back at the hotel?”
“Huh?”
“You were acting like somebody was after you. Figured your parents may be tracking you?”
“Yeah. You can never be too careful.”
“But you’re all right hanging out in the gayest part of town?”
“It makes no sense. I know.”
“Dude, family don’t ever make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“But at the end of the day, they’re all we have. Mine makes me crazy but they love the fuck out of me. You gotta meet my twin. Paris would fall on the sword for me.”
“You two are very close?”
“Closer. That shit people say about twins is so true. Sixth sense and shit. We’re tight in a way most people will never have. From the beginning we were two halves. She happy, I’m happy. I hurt, she wants to hurt somebody and same here.”
“Even though you live apart? Aren’t you used to being away from her?”
“Yeah, long as they got phones and Skype and airplanes. My dad went all crazy on me for, well, being me. I jumped on a plane, didn’t even tell her I was coming. Just needed to see my other half. Hell, we’re always gonna have that.”
“And if she moved too far away or you couldn’t talk to her anymore . . .”
“What? No, I wouldn’t even want to live in a world without her and that’s real.” I spit it because, well, it’s the truth. “And if anybody ever did anything to hurt her, there isn’t a corner of the world they’d be able to hide.”
Paris
49
“So where do we go from here?” Niles asked as I put his rifle aside and stood up.
“Well, I didn’t kill you.”
“And I didn’t kill you either despite not knowing what to do with you. Now what?”
“I . . . I want to come with you. Learn more. But . . .” I admitted, stopping before I said anything else foolish. Yeah, I wanted what my sister London had: someone to love. And maybe, just maybe, I’d fucked up and found that in Niles. But I was a soldier. And I had my orders. Running off with Niles wasn’t in the orders under any circumstances because family came first.
“Is that all you want? To learn from me?” Niles pushed, flashing his cockiness.
“I dunno,” I lied, hearing my daddy LC in my head and seeing his disapproving scowl.
“You’re prepared to leave your school early without any thought as to what that might do to your career and reputation?” Niles asked. “’Cause you know whoever is sponsoring you ain’t gonna wanna hear that noise.”
“Yeah. I mean . . . no,” I said, flustered. “What I know is, you have to leave and . . . I don’t want you to,” I admitted, resisting the urge to take his hand. Spain had been scary, crazy, sinful . . . and magical.
“I don’t want to do you like that, Paris. Tell you what. Meet me on my next job. It’s a real one. Then you can decide whether or not to leave your school.”
“Both reasonable and sexy. I like,” I teased while considering whether I was up for hearing Orlando’s mouth this time.
And boy would I. So much for laying low and out of trouble. Of course I’d also have to tell Rio that I was going somewhere with Niles, but he probably wouldn’t question it and he didn’t. Once I explained that Niles and I were off on a romantic excursion Rio stopped listened and wished me a quick bon voyage and told me to enjoy the dick.
So the next morning, per Niles’s instructions, I dressed way down for my flight. Hated that I had to fly solo but I respected him for taking precautions. He wanted to protect me in case something went wrong. But I knew that together we could handle any shit came our way.
I walked briskly, keeping it movin’ from beneath my fitted cap and sunglasses, looking like a broke college student. Had just turned my iPhone back on when it rang, M.O.P.’s “Ante Up” blaring as my ringtone. No telling how many calls I’d missed, but if anything, my brother was persistent.
“What the fuck are you doing in London, Paris?” Orlando screamed in my ear, sounding like he was about to stroke out. No use asking how he knew where I was as he probably had my credit cards and expenses monitored. “You were told to stay put.”
Shit. I had just cleared customs at Heathrow International Airport and was in no mood for his bullshit. “Just a quick trip then back to Spain. I’ll hit a few stores, check out a club or two, non-VIP style, then jet back. Besides, no one knows I’m here.” I worked overtime desperate to sell my lies to him. But he wasn’t about to let me off the hook that easily.
“I do, Paris. I know you’re there! And if I do, others might too. As far as another shopping trip, I know you. And you don’t go to London to shop. You go straight to Milan or your namesake.”
“Hey. You treated me to beach gear in Europe. It’s not so warm here. And I needed something more subtle than what I was rocking out there, right? Low-key is what you said. Well, that’s me,” I stated, hating my baggy and downright boyish attire as I strolled through the airport, heading to the exit.
“Paris, why you always gotta make me worry about you?” he groaned, his voice dropping in volume. “You can’t even follow simple instructions. You had the setup in Spain and yet you still couldn’t handle it and just leave shit alone.”
“Maybe because I’m restless and want to do something to help y’all. But y’all being some bitches and won’t let me,” I griped as I perused the overhead signs, seeking my exit.
“What’s his name, Paris?” Orlando asked way too calmly, seeing through my bullshit somewhat. Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t stand his ass sometimes.
“Huh?” I mumbled in the middle of picturing Niles’s face.
“What’s his name?” Orlando repeated. “Whatever part-time relationship you’ve got yourself into that has you in fuckin’ London all of a sudden.”
“Puhleeze. If I was with some nigga he woulda paid for my ticket and your spying ass wouldn’a called me.”
“Paris, get your ass back to Valencia as soon as possible. Or I will find you and personally fuck up whoever this dude is.”
“Yeah, you wish,” I scoffed, laughing inside at the one hundred different ways Niles could shut Orlando down if that run-in were ever to happen. But it wouldn’t just be Orlando Niles would be facing. I shuddered at the thought of Junior and my father showing up.
“Excuse me?” Orlando responded.
“Nothing. Stop hovering over me. I’ll be back in a day or two.”
“Paris—”
“Look. My luggage is coming up on the hamster wheel. Gotta go,” I blurted out as I cut him off and ended our convo. But my only luggage was in the basic backpack already strung over my shoulder. Niles had said to travel light.
“Queens!” a voice bellowed from the crowd of people greeting the new arrivals.
“Brooklyn!” I shouted back with a smile as I ran toward it.
The sea of people parted ever so briefly, revealing Niles waiting for me with his trademark smile and New York swagger. No need for the English ruse here; he wore a thick denim jacket, white tee, jeans, and a pair of Tims.
I ran into his arms, kissing him like a long-lost love. My fitted brim bumped him in the forehead, making both of us giggle.
“Didn’t know if you would show up,” he admitted as our lips parted.
“Didn’t know if you’d be waiting,” I shot back. “But I kicked it around and decided what the fuck. You coulda paid for my plane ticket though. I ain’t made of cash.”
“Nah. Had to be sure it was your decision to come,” he said as he took me by the hand to leave the airport. “Also, it’s better this
way. No way to connect us. Besides, Nadja wouldn’t have planned your itinerary anyway.”
“Does she know I’m here?” I asked.
“Been to London before?” he replied, sidestepping my question with a smile. I found this extremely interesting but decided to let it go . . . for now.
“Yep, school vacation,” I remarked, knowing he was going to think I meant recently; but it made me think back to our family vacation the year I turned twelve. In the airport parking garage, we took a Vauxhall Corsa Niles had rented before my arrival, and quickly departed.
“You ever work in the States?”
“Nah, but suddenly I’m thinking of making that happen.” He shot me a goofy look. “Ever see or hear from your people in Queens?”
“Nah. Ain’t seen my parents since I was a wee little thang. They’re probably dead and gone,” I said, having arrived at this story on the flight over. My school had a class on establishing covers, which I aced. Lying did come a little too naturally to me. I continued, “Bounced around in foster homes all around the county until someone figured out there was a use for my temper. And shipped me off with passport in hand.”
“And here we are,” he said, smiling so true that I couldn’t say if he believed my bullshit. For all I knew, his story was a lie too. That was us: two little liars up in a tree, k-i-l-l-i-n-g.
“Where are we heading?” I asked, playing with the radio to find a decent station.
“A little romantic spot on Le Lac d’Ailette, outside of Paris,” he seductively cooed.
“Wow. Like that?”
“Hey. What can I say? I missed you, ma,” he said as he ditched the white wave cap he’d been wearing.
“But we’ve only been apart twenty-four hours.”
“Hey, that’s a lot of masturbation!” he joked. I think.
Our journey south ended. “C’mon,” he said, grinning again.
“It’s kinda cold, yo,” I commented as I watched the joggers in their insulated technology.
“I’ll keep you warm, love,” he assured me, slipping into his English charm again as if that would have a better result.
“I like that, but I’d like me and you and a hotel room and some room service a little better,” I said as I reached over the gearshift and placed my hand on his inner thigh. I knew he was hot for me no matter how long he was gonna try to play otherwise.
“Live a little, spoiled princess,” he cracked as he hurriedly exited the car.
I rolled my eyes but I joined him on the walking trail.
“What are some of the methods you’ve used?” I asked, thinking Niles was supposed to train me too, not just blow sweet nothings in my ear.
“Um . . . rifle. Pistol, switchblades, wine bottle,” he said, fighting the shiver from the breeze coming off the lake. “My babies,” he continued, referring to those karambit blades of his. “Poison, garrote, uh . . . car accidents, falls, drowning, a rock . . . once, explosives, asphyxiation, and a paperclip.”
“Paperclip?”
“Yep.”
“Why you gotta fuck with me, yo?”
“Hey. You’d be surprised what comes in handy at the oddest of moments, ma. You know how many times I had to poke the damn clip to kill him? An all-day job, yo,” he said with a hearty laugh like he’d reserve for his boys or something. Well, the sooner I could get outta this awful gear, the sooner I could remind him I wasn’t one of his boys.
“Damn. How many have you bodied?” I pushed.
“Uh-uh. Something you don’t ask in this profession,” he said. “Because we’re all liars. Either wanting people to underestimate us or to build up our cred.”
A man was selling balloons on The Thames, waiting for the few kids that might come out I supposed. Niles beat a path toward him, his arm wrapped in mine as he guided me along. I hoped the poor slob wasn’t Niles’s target and was just trying to be a sappy romantic.
“Ahhh, good afternoon to the lovely couple!” the man who was Eastern European in appearance and demeanor chimed.
“Hello, sir,” Niles responded, matching his politeness. “How much?”
“For a woman as lovely as she? Free,” the man with dark, messy hair and visible razor stubble replied. “Besides, no children will be coming out for these today.” He sighed. Probably depended on this gig to keep the heating oil flowing. I kinda wanted to break him off some of this funny money I had in my pockets. Instead, Niles rewarded the frail man handsomely despite him at first refusing it.
“What color?” he asked us.
As I was about to ask for a red one, Niles cut me off. “Yellow,” he said assuredly.
“Hmm. I only have a single yellow one, so you are in luck. If it escapes your hand, may it lead you to your destination,” the balloon guy remarked as if rehearsed to impress the locals.
“Thank you,” I said as I took it in my hand.
We left the balloon guy and headed back toward the Sentra. Weird that Niles hadn’t even kissed me on the walk.
“Well, the balloon was a sweet gesture . . . even though I wanted red. I’m about passion and heat. This yellow . . . is about friendship.”
“What’s wrong with friendship, Paris? We weren’t friends before lovers?”
“Uh . . . I don’t know if we were exactly friends. But I like you mentioning love.”
Niles produced a paperclip in his fingers, as if by magic, and proceeded to uncurl it.
“Gonna try to prove something with that? ’Cause I will shove that so far up your ass,” I chimed.
“Nah,” he said a split second before he popped my balloon with it.
“Asshole!” I yelled, startled by the pop.
“Sorry,” Niles offered as he reached for the rubber shards in my lap.
And removed the tiny, rolled piece of paper from among them.
“You sonnuva . . .”
“Business,” he said with a shrug as he unrolled the paper and read it.
“Is that telling you what your job is out here?”
“Nah. I already know what my job is,” he admitted. “This? This is telling me where to find him.”
Nadja
50
Relaxation wasn’t an option at the moment as I waited for that phone call. The one that would inform me that my biggest obstacle to getting what I wanted had been dealt with. I needed to handle some business to take my mind off of Paris Duncan but Navid was nowhere to be found. Apparently when I offered him a working vacation he chose to put the emphasis on vacation. I couldn’t help but fantasize about having Niles back to myself. I didn’t mind him sleeping with other women as long as they were all a one-shot deal, eventually reminding him that I was the only one he really trusted, and trust invariably always leads to love.
I’d given Gavin all the necessary information once I knew she’d be following Niles to London. Made more sense to have him handle her in another place. That would make it harder to tie to me. Besides, the crime rate in Valencia didn’t compare with the numbers in London, even with Niles’s horrible fuckup. People got killed in London. He knew to make it look like a local crime and not a hit. Actually I hadn’t heard from Gavin since I called him back with the details yesterday. Was I the only person that actually gave a fuck about professionalism? Finally my phone rang. There were only three people I wanted to speak with—Niles, Gavin, or Navid—but when I saw the number, ignoring it was not an option.
“Papa,” I murmured sweetly. Today was the Sabbath, a day my father usually abstained from business, which meant it had to be personal. Lord, I hoped he wasn’t phoning on my mother’s behalf.
“Nadja, I have sent the jet for you. Be in my office in two hours.” And my cell went dead. Shit.
Two hours later I found myself walking into my father’s office. Seeing both Navid and Gavin already seated caused my stomach to sink. This seemed incredibly bad, which meant it was probably worse. My father’s fixed expression hadn’t loosened or lightened either.
“Whatever you are doing? Stop!” my father order
ed.
“But . . .”
“I’ve talked to Gavin and he just informed me that you ordered a hit on Paris Duncan. The daughter of the man I am in negotiations to do business with.”
“She deserves it.” I didn’t care if he was mad. The fact that both Gavin and Navid had betrayed me to my father and treated me as if I were a child pissed me off.
“You used company resources to handle some personal vendetta.”
“But you do it all the time,” I reminded my father. “How could you call it off?”
“This is my company. Who is this Paris Duncan to you?”
“She is someone that should have respected me when she got the chance.”
“Respect has to be earned and right now you have lost mine.”
“If I were a son and not a daughter we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” I pleaded with my father. “You would just trust me.”
“If you were a son then you would not risk my business and my reputation by making an emotional call that could bring wrath onto this family. LC Duncan is a very powerful man and from what I hear he is not the person to have as an enemy.”
“But he would never be able to trace it back to us. Gavin is a professional.” I motioned to Gavin to talk to my father.
“I am often retained by Mr. Duncan.” Gavin gave me the real reason he had sold me out to my father. “And he is not the man to cross.”
My father nodded to both Gavin and Navid to leave. “Daughter, I have made a grave error bestowing so much power on you. For the longest time I have remained blind to the realities of allowing you to remain so fully westernized in our world. It is a mistake for you to believe that you are the same as men. Had your uncles gotten wind of your plans I could not have saved you from their wrath. I may be the boss but there are still people that I must answer to. Your mother is right. The time has come for you to marry and bear children.”
“Papa, no. I will not marry just to satisfy some outdated belief that without a husband I am nothing.”