by Jessie Cooke
“Shit,” he muttered. “He still in the same place?”
“Of course,” Blackheart said. “Right there on Bourbon and Canal. Pops will still be there long after you and I are gone, Zane.”
Maz didn’t like that, but it was probably true. He stood and, taking his lead, Sledge did too. Blackheart, dressed in a black silk shirt, his kutte, black jeans, and black boots, stood too. Maz and Sledge shook his hand and thanked him for his help.
“I haven’t done nothing,” Blackheart said. “But we will keep an eye out. Let me know what Pops says. And come back when you’re finished, I got some girls that will make you both forget you ever laid eyes on that old man.”
Maz smiled at that. He wouldn’t mind a distraction, but he didn’t want to be with anyone but Marissa. His heart ached at the thought. Maz also knew that Sledge wouldn’t cheat on his old lady, so it was good that they had other plans and Maz didn’t even have to lie. “Thanks, but my parents are expecting us tonight. We’ll stop by again tomorrow if that’s okay, though, and I will let you know what Pops had to say.” He had a feeling they were wasting their time and maybe they should just go straight to his parents’ house. Elise would be feeding them crawfish étouffée and biscuits and his dad would regale them with tales of the latest building he’d refurbished. It would be nice…so much nicer than spending any time at all with a hundred-year-old man who thought he was psychic. He sighed, resigned to the fact that they’d at least have to hear what the old man had to say so they could say they’d exhausted all avenues during their search.
Once they made their way back through the old clubhouse and outside into the humid, swampy air, Sledge looked at Maz and said, “Are you sure they’re speaking English?”
Maz laughed. “Did you get any of that?”
“Something about an old man…some old guy that sees everything?”
Maz was laughing as he straddled his bike. Sledge straddled his and said, “Did I get it wrong?”
“No, man, you got it right. But you’re going to flip when you meet Pops.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“He’s blind,” Maz said, starting his bike. Sledge was shaking his head and Maz wasn’t sure, but it looked like he said:
“Of course he fucking is.”
Pops opened the door before Maz’s knuckles even made contact with the wood. Sledge was standing behind him, but Maz heard his sharp intake of breath. He probably should have warned him about the old man’s eyes. He told him Pops was blind, but not that both of his eyes were solid white. He was born that way, Maz had been told. The old man was black, so it was quite the contrast between his skin and the white eyes. “Zane Zimmerman,” the old man said. Fuck. If Maz didn’t know better he might think the old man only pretended to be blind. At that Sledge whispered:
“How the fuck?”
“And you’ve brought a friend. Not the same one that came with you the night you spied on me, though. How old were you then, Zane? Eight, maybe?”
“Something like that, Pops. How old are you now? Two hundred?” The old man threw his head back and laughed.
“Good one. Y’all come on in.” Sledge looked like he was going to run, but when the old man stepped inside and Maz stepped in after him, Sledge did too. Maz didn’t blame him. It was one thing to face something you could take down with a gun or a knife if you had to. But Pops was scary in a whole different way. Leaning on his cane, Pops shuffled down the hallway and they followed him. The house smelled bad…like death…and as they passed the room that Maz had looked into that night, all of those years ago, he looked at the closed door and wondered what kind of strange rituals still took place in there.
Pops led them into the kitchen. It was small, and cluttered. There was a table shoved against the wall on one side with three chairs around it. Those chairs were full of papers, mail, and other strange things like handmade, braided necklaces, and bracelets that looked like they were made out of hair. The look on Sledge’s face was so classic that Maz wished he had a camera to record it. He was sure he wasn’t going to be able to do it justice later when he tried to describe it to their friends. “Y’all sit, I’m putting on the teakettle,” Pops said. Sledge looked at Maz and with a smile on his face, Maz cleared off two of the chairs. Sledge almost knocked him down to sit on the one closest to the back door. He seemed to still be thinking about running. After Pops filled his teakettle, he shuffled over and pulled out the third chair. He sat down and said, “So, you’re looking for someone?”
“Okay, I’m sorry…you’re psychic?” Sledge said.
Pops chuckled. “Something like that, son. You’re Steve?”
“Fuck.” Sledge’s mouth fell open; Maz did laugh at that. Pops chuckled too.
“Okay, Zane and Steve, who are you looking for?”
“His name is Johnny Bartlett…”
“But that’s not what he calls himself.”
“He goes by Jammer,” Maz told him.
“He don’t want to be found.”
“Is that a question?” Sledge asked.
“Is it?” Pops said. Sledge looked at Maz and rolled his eyes. With a smile Maz said:
“He disappeared on purpose, yes…but his friends want to find him and make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s okay,” Pops said.
“Sorry, Pops, but they’re going to want more than your assurance. Can you tell me where I can find him, so he can tell me that himself?”
“He’s got demons.”
“Don’t we all,” Sledge said. Pops laughed again.
“True story, Steve. All humans have demons. They walk around with them and don’t even know it sometimes. But your friend Jammer, his demons have taken over.”
“What do you mean, Pops?” Maz asked.
“Just what I said. His demons are in charge. He doesn’t want to be found. But, if you insist on dancing with his demons, take a look Atchafalaya Swamp. You can dance with a few gators too while you’re there.” Pops laughed at his joke and Maz tried not to laugh at the wide-eyed look on Sledge’s face. When Pops stopped laughing Maz said:
“That’s good, Pops…we’ve narrowed it down to a basin of over a million acres.”
Pops gave him a look like the one Elise used to give him when he was young and he sassed her. “Sarcasm toward a person who’s trying to help you is not a good thing, young Zane.”
“Sorry, Pops, but can you narrow it down a bit.”
“I’m feeling Lafayette,” he said. “That’s all I can tell you, son.”
“Okay, well, thanks, Pops.” Maz stood and pulled out his wallet. Again, as if the old man could see him he said:
“You gonna insult me and try to give me cash, young man?”
“No sir,” Maz said, putting his wallet back. “What can I do for you, instead?”
“Send your daddy over here to fix my bricks.”
Maz didn’t laugh out loud, but he did in his head. His dad claimed he wasn’t superstitious and teased Elise sometimes for hers. But, for a man who didn’t believe in the paranormal, he steered as clear of it as he could. He wouldn’t touch Pops’ house with a ten-foot pole. Maz would find someone who would, though, someone reliable.
“I’ll see what I can do, Pops.”
“I know you will, Zane Zimmerman.” Pops got up and followed them to the door. The last thing Pops said as Maz climbed on his bike was “And don’t forget, Zane, your mother is still looking for you.” Before Maz could ask him what he meant, the old man closed the door. For a few seconds he thought about going back up to the house and asking him…and maybe asking him about Rhonda and Marissa. But Sledge’s slack-jawed look held him back. He didn’t want his friend to think he bought too much into what the crazy old man said.
“What the fuck was that?” Sledge said.
Maz chuckled, but goosebumps still covered his arms. “Sorry. Pops is…a strange one.”
Sledge was staring at the mirror that adorned the outside of Pops’ apartment. It faced the street and the
streetlight was bouncing off it. “Strange, yeah, I think that’s putting it mildly. What’s the mirror for?” he asked, in a tone that said he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Maz smiled and said, “Because the devil is vain.”
“Excuse me?”
“It keeps the devil outside your door. He’ll be so busy looking at his own reflection that he’ll forget to come inside.”
“Fuck,” Sledge said. “Is everybody around here as weird as the people I’ve met so far?”
“Pretty much.”
“Fuck.” Maz was laughing as he started his bike and pointed it in the direction of home. It would be nice to see his dad and Elise. It would be even nicer to be bringing Marissa home one day to meet them…but as his old lady, not his sister. Damn, he was really glad that Sledge couldn’t read his mind. If he thought they were strange now…
19
“We’re not really going trekking through some fucking swamp, are we?” Sledge asked after they’d said goodbye to Elise and left the house, loaded down with more food than they’d be able to carry on their bikes along with everything else they had with them. Maz had told his father a little bit about what they were doing…the part about searching for a brother who might be in trouble. His father had filled two backpacks with camping gear, knives, pellet guns, dart guns, and anything else he could fit in either of them. The weight of it on Maz’s back didn’t bode well for how he was going to feel after the two-hour ride to Lafayette. Sledge didn’t complain about his…but he did have plenty to say about going out into the swamp.
Maz told him, “I talked to Wolf last night. He says Dax is thinking Jammer is suicidal. He’s not the type to run from trouble…he’s been trained to run toward it. He doesn’t think he took off because he was afraid of the police or even of retaliation from the gang. Dax thinks he lost it…and he’s afraid if we don’t find him soon, we’ll be finding him dead…or finding a trail of dead people that leads to Jammer. I feel like I have to do all I can before that happens.”
“Fuck, man, I’ve got no complaints about looking for this guy and hopefully bringing him home…but shit…a swamp? This place is crazy.”
Maz laughed. “Well, I grew up here and I saw plenty of gators…never got ate by one, so that’s a positive.”
“Yeah, but you’re not as sweet as me.”
Still laughing, Maz said, “You mean as fluffy?” Sledge flipped him off. Maz chuckled and said, “We’ll be careful, I promise. Try to enjoy the experience. Seriously, you’re gonna fucking love it. You ever seen a tupelo tree? I’ll bet some of the people down there will have some homemade tupelo honey…that shit is the bomb…” Maz couldn’t eat it, not unless he wanted to dose himself with three times his usual insulin dose…but Sledge didn’t know about Maz’s diabetes.
“You’re overselling – that means I’m gonna hate it, right?” Sledge said.
Maz laughed. “Maybe,” he said, “but you’re going with me anyway, right?”
“Fuck yeah…why wouldn’t I? The two-hundred-year-old blind man said we’d find him there, so it must be true.”
On the drive to the swamp Maz tried to keep his thoughts on the beautiful scenic drive. It was one of his favorites, and one that he’d imagined taking Marissa on some day. She had never been out of California, and as beautiful as their state was, there was nothing like this there. He inhaled the aromas that came from the majestic cypress trees and the tupelo-covered swamps. He loved the way the egrets perched along the edges of the water and every so often he’d see a rock formation that looked suspiciously like an alligator peering out at them from underneath the moss and green water. He’d love to see it through Marissa’s eyes the first time she saw it, the first time it invaded her senses. He hated thinking about her with mixed emotions. He wished he had a time machine and he could go back to where he was simply falling in love with a beautiful, smart, sexy, sweet woman…and there was no fear, anxiety, or guilt.
He couldn’t shake the thoughts of her and his fantasy about taking her on a trip someday, not until they were driving up to the Atchafalaya Basin and marina in Lafayette. He knew he was going to have to stay focused here. It was filled with danger at every turn, and not a place where a man could let his guard down for long, unless he was ready for nature to take him in any of at least a hundred different ways while he wasn’t paying attention.
Maz and Sledge parked their bikes in the parking lot and he was just stepping off his when his phone rang. He pulled it out and saw that it was Hunter. Part of him didn’t want to answer it. The idea of what he might be calling to tell him coiled in the pit of his belly. It was like it was waiting to strike out and bite him, and fill his body with a poisonous venom…or a peaceful relief. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know which it would be.
“You gonna answer that?” Sledge asked him, finally.
He sighed and slid the screen to answer the call. “Hey, Hunter, what’s up?”
“First of all, how’s it going down there in the bayou? No hard feelings that I recommended you, are there?”
“Nope, not at all. I kind of needed a trip home.” And some space from his problems back in California. He had a feeling, though, that Hunter was about to bring him something new to pack in his already heavy baggage.
“You guys see any sign of Jammer?”
“Not yet, but we’re working on it.” Sledge was close enough to hear Hunter and he said:
“Tell him about the blind man.” Maz chuckled and shook his head.
“What’s that about a blind man?”
“You know how it is down here,” Maz said. “We’ve got our quirks. Sledge is just adjusting.”
“Quirks,” Hunter said with a laugh. “Yeah, that’s like calling Mt. Everest a bunny hill…but okay.”
Maz was still smiling when he suddenly remembered what Hunter had really called for, and the smile fell quickly. “You have news for me?”
Hunter sighed and Maz knew instantly that it wasn’t going to be news he wanted to hear, that his biological mother was still in the wind. “Yeah, buddy…I’m just not sure if it’s good news or bad.”
“Lay it on me,” Maz said.
“Rhonda Williams was born Rhonda Lane. Her family called her Ronnie. She had one sister who is deceased, died of a drug overdose in 1997. Her parents are both deceased as well. Rhonda was married, briefly, in 1990…it lasted about six months, ended in divorce, and they didn’t have any children, or at least that’s what it says in the divorce papers. She kept the name Williams after that. In 1992 she moved into the home she currently lives in and she’s lived there ever since. That’s as far as I dug into her life, I didn’t know if you wanted me to go further back, or forward…or if that’s all you wanted to know…”
Maz’s head was too chaotic to really answer that question. At one point in his life he’d wanted to know everything about his mother…but now, what difference did it really make? He knew the one thing that was going to ruin the relationship they didn’t even have. He knew that her abandonment had led to his doing something that he never would have even considered had he known that Marissa was his sister. He blamed Rhonda for that, just like he’d blamed her for everything else that ever went bad in his life. He almost felt guilty sometimes about that…but not about this. This was her fault and if he didn’t hate her before, he just might be headed in that direction now.
“Maz, remember, man, just because the name fits doesn’t necessarily mean she’s your mother. We can get DNA proof if you want…and again, I’d suggest that you talk to her.” Maz didn’t realize until that moment just how much hope he was holding out that Rhonda wouldn’t turn out to be Ronnie…his mother. Hunter was right, a name definitely wasn’t solid proof…but Maz wasn’t looking for something that would stand up in court. It was enough proof for him and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Feeling like he could hardly breathe he said:
“I can’t really deal with all that right now. I’m going to find Jammer…”
“Maz, be saf
e and let me know if you decide there is something else I can do for you, okay?” Hunter was talking to him like he was afraid that he was the one that was suicidal. He was sick, heartsick, but the idea of taking his own life wasn’t ever one he’d consider. He’d find a way to live with what he’d done…the worst part was going to be facing Marissa and telling her. Well, that, and the idea of never touching her again. Life as he knew it, as he’d planned it out in his head, was just about to come to a screeching halt, just as quickly as if he’d run his bike into a brick wall. He thanked Hunter again and ended the call, stuffing the phone in his jeans pocket.
“Everything okay?” Sledge asked.
“No,” Maz said, “but nothing to do with Jammer. Come on, we have to find ourselves a boat.”
Sledge looked out at the swamp as it was laid out in front of them on the other side of the wooden bridge where dozens of boats were moored. He curled his lip, but sucked in a breath and kept going…it was the kind of bravery that Maz admired, the kind that he knew his brothers would lay on the line for him if he needed it as well. He was going to do his damnedest to put his own problems aside for now. He’d never met Jammer, but he was one of his brothers nonetheless, and he needed him.
“A canoe? A fucking canoe?” Sledge was sitting in the little wooden boat, staring over the side with his eyes as big as saucers while Maz did the paddling.
Maz chuckled. “It’s a pirogue.”
“I don’t need to know your fancy French words for it. It’s a fucking wooden canoe.”
“You would have preferred a kayak?” Maz asked with a grin.
“Fuck no! I wanted to get one of those airboat things. At least they’re made out of steel. A hungry gator can bite right through this shit. There’s no motor. How the hell you gonna outrun a gator with no motor?”
“Well, maybe if you’d pick up that paddle there and help me…”