Three The Hard Way

by Glenn, Roy

  Yvonne, for her part, had just a bit more on her plate. Things were pretty cut and dry for Marcus, but her world was much more complicated. She felt badly for involving Marcus in her mess, but what’s done is done. There was no turning back now, but he was entitled to an explanation.

  "When I left here, Marcus, I was set. I was twenty-one, rollin’ a Benz, nice little condo in Northridge, and more money than I ever dreamed possible. And thanks to you, it just kept rollin’ in. I was getting dividend checks just about every week from companies I’d never heard of. I just knew it would never run out. I was spending money buying whatever I thought I wanted—clothes mostly. Brought a house for Mama and sent my whole family money. And traveling. I loved to travel. I had never been anywhere, never seen anything. My eyes had opened up to a whole new world, and it was mine to command. I went everywhere, did everything I wanted. Even took my newfound fake friends on a cruise. All expenses paid by me, of course. I was a fool, a foolish young girl with money. I remember my papa tellin’ me that a fool and his money are soon parted. Well, that’s exactly what happened to me. I remember going to New York one day with this guy I met the night before. We had dinner at a French restaurant. After we left, we caught a cab to go back to the hotel and we were talking about how the food wasn’t that good and how the service was poor. He said, ‘Too bad we can’t have dinner in France.’ I told the cab driver to take us to the airport. Next day we were in France having late supper with a view of the tower."

  "You were out the box, Yvonne."

  "A fool. A damn fool. After awhile I found that I was running out of money. The checks were still coming, but that wasn’t enough."

  "You could have changed your lifestyle."

  "Marcus, that would have been too much like right. I had met this guy named Paris. He’s the type who’s into everything, knows everybody. You know the type. Anyway, we were hangin’ out and I was tellin’ him about my money problems, and he asked me if I would do some work for him as a courier. I told him no, so he introduced me to Tom Mack."

  "The lawyer you gave power of attorney to."

  "The same. He told me that if I let him make some investments for me that I would be set for life. I would be able to quadruple my money in less then a month. So, I gave him fifty thousand dollars. Three weeks later he wrote me out a check for two hundred thousand dollars."

  "You want me to tell you happened next?"

  "Okay, go ahead."

  "Old Tom Mack tells you that you could have the check or you could reinvest it, and since the market conditions are right, you could make half a million dollars."

  "Yeah, how did you know?"

  Marcus smiled. "Old scam."

  "Yeah, well the fool fell for it. Two weeks later he called me and said that we were close to flippin’ that money, but he was on to something else that had the potential to be far more lucrative. I told him that I was just about broke, and that fifty I gave him was really all I had to invest. When I told him that—" Yvonne laughed. "I’ll never forget that conversation, Marcus. It changed my life."

  Tom Mack said, "Well, Yvonne, in another week you’ll have half a million dollars. But I hate for you to miss out on this."

  "I do too, Tom, but there’s nothing I can do until I get some more money."

  "Well maybe there is."

  "What’s that?" Yvonne said greedily.

  "Paris mentioned to me that you had some investments that were providing you with a nice dividend income."

  "Go on."

  "If I had control of those investments I might be able to leverage those gains on this new deal and make it happen."

  "What would you need?"

  "Who controls those accounts for you?"

  "My lawyer, Marcus Douglas in Atlanta."

  "I would need you to fire him and give me power of attorney."

  "I don’t know, Tom, that money is all I’m living off now."

  "I understand, Yvonne. Maybe it will come around again, but I doubt it. Anyway, I’ll call you when I have some news for you."

  "Wait a minute, Tom."

  "Yes, Yvonne."

  "Go ahead and draw up whatever you need. I’ll be there in an hour."

  Three weeks later, Yvonne got a call from Tom Mack, letting her know that the market dropped and she had lost everything. With nowhere to go, she turned to Paris once again for help. He put her to work the next day as a courier. Yvonne’s lifestyle was saved, and for the next five years Yvonne made the occasional trip, picking up and delivering whatever Paris asked her to.

  Yvonne never knew what she was carrying and had convinced herself that she didn’t care. "Better if I don’t know." Yvonne would always tell Paris. "If I knew what I carrying, I’d probably be scared shitless." Her plan was simple. She would only do it until she turned thirty and then she could collect on her trust fund.

  "What went wrong, Yvonne?" Marcus asked.

  "I don’t know, Marcus."

  "Well what happened?"

  "Paris sent me to Singapore. Everything was going fine. I picked up that bag and went back to my room. Then this man shows up at my door. He said that Paris sent him. That there was a change in plans and Paris wanted me to give him the bag and to meet him back in L.A. in a week. I told him that I needed to call Paris to confirm. Paris always said that if there was a change in plans, I would hear it from him. If it ever happened I should kill whoever told me any different before they killed me.

  "He stopped me from calling. Said that things were going on that I had no knowledge of, and my calling would put too many people at risk. I said I was calling Paris anyway. He grabbed me; we wrestled around for a while. I’m pretty strong for a Mississippi country girl. Anyway, I broke away from him and ran into the bedroom. I got to my gun and I shot him."

  "You ever kill anyone before?"

  "No. That was the first time I ever had to use it. Since I had to carry a gun, Paris made me learn how to use it. I was great on the range, but never thought that I would have to use it."

  "What happened then, Yvonne?"

  "I freaked out and I grabbed the bag and got out of there. I went straight to the airport and caught a plane to Hawaii and went to the drop-off point, but nobody showed up. I was really scared by then, so I called Paris. But I didn’t mention anything about the man I shot. He said he didn’t know what was going on and told me to come home and bring the bag to him. When I got back to my condo, there was somebody waiting for me."

  "Did you shoot them too?"

  "No, I jumped off the balcony and ran to my car and took Interstate 10 out of town. I just kept driving until I was too tired to drive any further. I stopped for few hours in Picacho, Arizona to get some sleep; then I was gone again. I drove to El Paso Texas. I was going to cross into Ciudad Juarez in Mexico, but I didn’t want to use the fake ID and passport I had gotten for Paris, and I was in too much of a hurry when I left to get mine. So I went to FedEx and sent that box to Tyisha. And then I drove here."

  "How did I get involved in this?"

  "Those two men were waiting for me in the parking lot the night we met in the store. I didn’t mean to get you involved, but they were at my car. You were the only way I could get away from there. I made arrangements for a new passport to get out of the country then I sent that package to you. I figured that it was kind of an insurance policy. I was set, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to you."

  Marcus got up from the bed and paced back and forth thinking of a way out of their predicament. "Paris."

  "I was thinking about Africa." Yvonne said.

  "No, Paris is the key to it all. We’ll go to L.A. and I’ll return the bag. They shouldn’t bother you after that."

  "Are you crazy? For all I know Paris may kill me on sight and take the bag off my dead body."

  "True, but we got to convince him that it’s in his best interest to leave you alone."

  "How you gonna do that?"

  "Yvonne, I’m a lawyer. I’m a very good negotiator." Marcus an
d Yvonne argued about what to do well into evening. Marcus was convinced that talking to Paris and returning the bag was the only way. Yvonne, on the other hand, hated that plan. She just wanted to get away.

  "I say we see the passport guy and go to Africa." She felt like she was talking to a brick wall.

  Then it hit her. "You’re right. Going back to L.A. is the only way out of this." Yvonne opened a new pack of Bensons and walked to the window.

  "Good. I’m glad you finally see that." Marcus reached for the bottle on the nightstand and poured a drink. He took a sip. "We’ll catch a flight and be in L.A. first thing tomorrow morning.

  Yvonne sat on the bed and took the drink from Marcus in exchange for her cigarette. "We’ll do it your way Marcus." Yvonne yawned and lay down on the bed. Marcus gave back her cigarette. "We’ll never be safe until we settle things with Paris." She curled into the fetal position. "And then it will be over."

  Phase 3

  The next morning, Marcus called Janice and told her where he was going then he and Yvonne set out for California. Yvonne insisted they fly into San Francisco, catch a flight to Santa Barbara and drive down the 101 into L.A. They checked into the Wyndham Hotel at the Airport. As soon as they got to the room, Yvonne called and left a message for Paris to call her message service.

  "Paris, this is Yvonne. I want to meet you somewhere tomorrow to return those items to you. And hopefully this will end our relationship without any further need for outside intervention."

  She checked every half-hour to see if he returned her call. Hours dragged on. With nothing to do they occupied themselves ordering room service and watching movies until it was almost 2:00. Marcus had fallen asleep hours earlier, but Yvonne kept up her thirty-minute vigil. At 2:30 Yvonne called again.

  "Yvonne, it’s good to hear your voice again. It’s late and I’m tired. Be at my house in El Segundo at eleven."

  "I don’t think so." Yvonne called him back and left a message that Marcus would meet him at Bruce’s Place, a Bar and Grill on West Grand at eleven and he would give him the bag. "One more thing, Paris. Come alone."

  She started to wake up Marcus, but he looked so peaceful she didn’t want to bother him. Yvonne turned off the lights and lay down next to Marcus. He stretched and put his arm around her. She smiled and went to sleep.

  At 10:00 the next morning they left the Wyndham to meet Paris. As Yvonne drove, she gave Marcus a description of Paris. "You can’t miss him." She dropped him off on Main Street and West Grand, about a block from Bruce’s Place. Marcus got out. "Wish me luck."

  "Good luck, Marcus. I’ll pick you up here when it’s over." Marcus started to walk away. Yvonne got out of the car. "Marcus!" He turned around and walked back. "You know you’ve slept with me for the last three nights?"

  "Yeah, and I haven’t even kissed you." Marcus said as he leaned against the car.

  "No, you haven’t." She kissed him on the cheek then gently on the lips.

  "I love you, Yvonne."

  "I love you too, Marcus. When all this is over, I’ll show you just how much."

  "See you, Yvonne."

  "See yah, Marcus." Marcus walked down the street and entered Bruce’s Place. He went into the bathroom and took the garbage bag out of the trashcan. He placed the bag in it and replaced the garbage bag. Then he took a seat in the back so he could see the door.

  He checked his watch. It was 11:00. He tapped anxiously on the table. His tapping reminded him of the sound of Yvonne’s heels clicking against the tile that first night at the store. He looked up and Paris stood before him. Yvonne’s description of Paris was dead on target. He was dressed in a dull gray suit white shirt opened at the collar, black Ray Bans and wet look hair.

  "Marcus, I’ll take it. Yvonne used to speak of you all time. You wouldn’t mind standing up and opening your coat, would you?"

  "I’m unarmed." Marcus said as he did as he was asked then sat down.

  "May I sit?" Paris asked.

  "By all means. Let’s get this over with."

  "Yes, this has been a very big misunderstanding. I never intended for any of this to happen. I don’t know how much Yvonne told you, but—" Marcus cut him off.

  "I’m just the delivery boy."

  "When she didn’t come see me, I simply had to take steps to recover the items. It was easy to track her movements and it was obvious that she was heading for Atlanta. Unfortunately, I underestimated her abilities."

  "Right."

  "May I see the items?"

  "Excuse me for a minute." Marcus went into the bathroom and returned with the bag. He handed it to Paris. "Here you go." Marcus stood over Paris and watched as he opened the bag and looked over its contents. Once he had satisfied himself that the items were in tact, Paris got up and walked toward the door.

  "Please tell Yvonne that I meant her no harm."

  "She’ll find that very comforting."

  As soon as they were outside, Yvonne drove up quickly and to Marcus’ surprise, she fired one shot to Paris’ head. Paris fell to the ground. Marcus started to pick up the bag. "Leave the bag!" Yvonne yelled.

  Marcus ran to the car. Once he was in, Yvonne drove away. "Why did you kill him? It was over. All he wanted was his shit back."

  "How naïve are you, Marcus? As long as Paris was alive it would never be over. Can’t you see that? He would just keep sending people to kill us."

  "Why’d we leave the bag?"

  "I’m glad to be rid of it. Let the cops worry about what those papers mean." Yvonne and Marcus drove back to Santa Barbara. They caught a flight back to San Francisco and brought tickets to Seattle. Yvonne knew someone there who could get them new passports; and would help her get out of the country. They sat at the gate waiting for their plane to begin boarding. "You know it was the right thing to do, Marcus."

  "I know. But you could have told me what you were going to do."

  "If I told you, would you have gone along with it?"

  "No."

  "That’s why I didn’t tell you." Yvonne said with a smile. "Tomorrow we’ll be safely out of the country. And I’ll spend the rest of my life in your arms."

  "You still could have told me." Marcus kissed Yvonne on the cheek. "I’m going to get some water." Marcus walked away. Yvonne watched him walk until a lady walked up and stood before her.

  "Is anybody sitting there?"

  "No, have a seat."

  The lady sat down, slowly removing a .38 with a silencer from her purse. Yvonne looked at her and the lady shot her five times. The lady got up and walked away as Marcus returned. Yvonne struggled to her feet.

  "Marcus." He caught her as she fell. Marcus looked around for the lady, but by then she had disappeared into the crowd. He held Yvonne in his arms and thought, There is only one way out of the kind of life Yvonne was living.

  She died in his arms.

  The Wrong Man

  By Roy Glenn

  Copyright © 2002 Roy Glenn

  Part I

  It was almost eleven o’clock at night and I was getting tired of surfing the web. Tired of reading information to sound interesting at parties, but not really useful in everyday life. So I turned off the computer and began to wander aimlessly through the house, picking up this and straightening up that. When I started to dust, I knew it was time for me to get a life.

  It had been almost three years since Dennis, my husband of ten years, decided that he needed more out of life.

  "More out of life?" I asked him.

  "Things I just can’t do here, Carla," he said.

  Things he couldn’t do being married to me, is what he meant. The next day he left for California, leaving me with our two children. Sure, he sends money and he calls every blue moon, but that doesn’t replace the children growing up without their father, or me having a husband. So I’ve become both mother and father, and that’s become my whole life. But this summer much to my surprise, shock would be a better word for it, Dennis called and said he wanted the children for the summer. So
I let them go, and for the first time in ten years, I am alone.

  I poured myself a glass of wine and went out on the deck. It had been a very humid summer in Atlanta and this night was no exception. As I sat there, I listened to the neighbor’s music, which they always play too loud for my taste. Not that I have anything against Rap music, I just don’t understand it anymore. I’ll just say it’s come a long way from Kurtis Blow and Run DMC and leave it at that.

  I can’t even say what the name of the song was, but this particular song, for reasons I can’t explain, got to me. I started tapping my foot and before I knew it, my head was rocking. It started me thinking about the old days, when I had a life. Me and my girls, Meka and Shika were the "happy hour" queens. I loved to dance. We’d hang out all night and go to work the next morning looking like hags, but we didn’t care, we always had the best times, but that was before I met Dennis, got married and had children. Back when I had a life. Don’t get me wrong, I love my children and I love being their mother, but some times I wish there were some semblance of my former life associated with it.

  I finished my wine and got up to pour myself another. When I got to the refrigerator I said, "Hold it. Why not go out? It’s Friday night and the kids are gone."

  Why not?

  But where?

  All of my old hangout spots have long since closed their doors. I opened the refrigerator and poured another glass, marveling at how easily I talked myself out of it. I returned to my chair on the deck. I remembered hearing some of the gossip girls at work talking about a place they went to in Buckhead that played old school music. But I couldn’t remember the name of the place. "Bell Bottoms!"

  I took a big swallow of liquid courage and went inside to change into something more appropriate for the big event.

  "Big event?"

  Damn right, my return to the club after a twelve-year absence is a big event.

  I stood in front of my closet for what seemed like an eternity, in a state of brain lock, trying to decide what to wear. I wanted to look sexy, but not hoochie. I had gained a few well-placed pounds since my club days, (read: a big butt and the gift pouch I got from the children) so the outfits that I wanted to wear just didn’t look right. I finally settled on a pieced together black outfit. The top from one outfit, that I could not wiggle all this big butt into the pants of, and the skirt I had bought years ago that Dennis would never let me wear. It was a little tight and I was showing plenty of thighs, but it was on. I tried a few steps to see if I could dance in it. I checked my hair and makeup and I was on my way.