by Shea Oliver
Lippy drop to the floor on his knees, crying and apologizing. “They dropped me man. I ain’t have no choice. They wanna buy papers. I ain’t know what else to do.”
“Da fuck you think bringin’ ‘em here?” Daddy Rings repeated, as he kicked Lippy, sending him flying across the floor.
Kadamba’s hand shot out to grab Dr. Tarea’s arm when he heard the doctor begin to speak. Kadamba knew that this had to play out before they could say anything. The best thing in the world was to shut up and wait.
Daddy Rings bent over Lippy, warning, “You best hope they ain’t nuthin’ but buyers, or you won’t be seein’ yo momma ever again.”
Daddy Rings stepped back to Kadamba and Dr. Tarea, “Da fuck you two want in my house?”
“We need passports,” blurted out Dr. Tarea before Kadamba could say anything.
“You best shut yo’ mutherfuckin’ honky-ass mouth fo’ I string a noose up and light yo’ ass on fire,” Daddy Rings declared.
“It’s all cool,” Kadamba assured Daddy Rings, as calmly as he could. “We’re in your house, man. We’ll follow your rules. We’re just trying to find someone we can buy some passports from. Ain’t no disrespect. We just here needing help. Didn’t give Lippy much choice.”
“I don’t do business with the man,” announced Daddy Rings, looking at Dr. Tarea. Then he looked back at Kadamba, “and you probably a brother who sold out to the man.”
“Nah, crazy circumstance stuck us together,” replied Kadamba. “We ain’t the man. We on the run, and we need to buy passports.”
“Don’t be such a jive-ass mutherfucker,” came a female voice from behind them, “Figure out if they legit or not, and do business—or don’t.”
Kadamba turned to see the most beautiful sight he’d seen in long time. She was tall and thin, wearing a dark-orange, leather jacket, that was open and revealing an amply-filled, black leather bra. Her pants were black leather, flaring widely at the opening of the legs. She had high cheekbones and piercing black eyes. Her large Afro shimmered and seemed to have as much personality as her sassy attitude.
“Girl, get the hell out of here. This ain’t yo’ business,” commanded Daddy Rings, as the young woman started walking towards Kadamba.
“Business be family business, brother, and you caught yourself a cute one right here.” She swept her hand across Kadamba’s face, as she stepped by them and playfully slapped Daddy Rings on the arm. “Why you be actin’ the shit and everything?”
“Damn, if you wasn’t my sista,” replied Daddy Rings, “I’d backhand yo’ black ass across the room.”
“Brother, let’s just see if we gotz a couple of players or what,” she suggested. “You two mutherfuckas better not be narcs.”
Stepping back over to Kadamba, she put both her hands gently on his face. She even smelled intoxicating, like the Rocky Mountains, except there was something sensual about it too. She looked deep into his eyes and smiled. If he could have controlled his reactions, he would have, but he couldn’t. He blushed and smiled, looking back into her eyes, feeling like a little boy being held safely by his mother.
“Okay, Rings,” she announced, without breaking eye contact with Kadamba, “you find out if that honky is on the level, and I’ll check everything out about this brother.” She ran her hands down his arms, interlocking her fingers and hooking one of his hands with hers. She began to walk towards the door, with Kadamba obediently following along.
“Have a seat,” ordered Daddy Rings, gesturing to Dr. Tarea to sit in on the sofa. Dr. Tarea sat, not knowing what else to do. Daddy Rings sat next to him, still towering over the wiry, little man. He put his arm around the doctor, inquiring, “You ain’t no narc, is you?”
“No, no, I’m no narcotics officer,” replied the doctor, his voice cracking with fear.
Daddy Rings looked him in the eye, as a tall coffee table was pushed in front of the seated pair. “We’ll see about that.” On the table sat a mirror, lying flat, a small vial, a razor blade, and a small straw.
Dr. Tarea looked at Daddy Rings with apprehension. The man’s giant hand picked up and opened the vial, tapping the open end on the center of the mirror. A white powder formed a small pile. The doctor stared at the substance, knowing what it probably was, but afraid it might be something else.
“I don’t do drugs,” whispered Dr. Tarea, his voice getting hoarser and weaker.
Daddy Rings chuckled as he used the razor blade to spread the powder into a line on the mirror. He picked up the straw, holding it out for Dr. Tarea. “This part is simple,” Daddy Rings explained, “either you ain’t no narc and you do this here line, or you is a narc and you don’t.”
His hand trembling, Dr. Tarea took the straw from Daddy Rings and placed it in his nose. He bent over, snorting in as he moved the straw down the line of cocaine. He sat up and looked at Daddy Rings, who was smiling.
Daddy Rings took the vial again, tapped out another pile, and used the razor blade to form another line. “This shit be real good. You best try it on the other side too.”
Dr. Tarea put the straw to his other nostril and snorted in the second line of cocaine. He closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them, Daddy Rings was smiling. The whole room seemed to be brighter. Someone had turned on a large boombox in the corner, the beat filling the room. Dr. Tarea started bobbing his head side-to-side, biting his lower lip. “Fuck me . . . Wow!” were the only words that Dr. Tarea could manage.
Daddy Rings started to laugh, “Nah, just yo’ friend be getting’ fucked. You get to party. Silly-ass honky.”
Someone handed Dr. Tarea a joint, and he took a deep drag on it, holding it in his lungs. Maybe these drugs weren’t quite as bad as the ones on Koranth decided Dr. Tarea as his body started gyrating to the beat of the music.
*****
Kadamba was mesmerized as the beautiful woman led him down the corridors and up staircases in the warehouse. He wasn’t sure where he was, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes of her. After she closed the door behind him, he looked around. It wasn’t what he expected. It was clean and bright. The walls appeared to have been painted, and a desk, a dresser, and bed were in the room. He realized it was a bedroom. “Are we still in the warehouse?” he asked, as he peered around.
“We sure are,” she replied. “It ain’t much, but it’s home.”
Holding his hand, she put her other hand on his face. He trembled as she ran her fingers along his check. Looking at him quizzically, she asked his name.
“Kadamba,” he replied, not even thinking to use anything else and not really being able to think at all.
“Where’d you get that name?” she asked.
“My parents.”
“Duh,” she teased him, “Where’s a name like that come from?”
“It’s a very long, long ways from here. What’s your name?”
“Violet.”
She pushed him onto the bed, where he sat looking up at her. She slowly pulled his shirt off and pushed him onto his back. She crawled on top of him, straddling him as she pulled off her jacket and bra. She ran her hands over his chest. “Damn, you one strong boy.”
She traced the outlines of the muscles of his chest and shoulders. He shivered at her touch, not knowing what to do. She looked him in the eyes, and he saw a compassion and kindness that seemed so rare in his world.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” she asked.
He looked away, shaking his head side-to-side slightly.
She smiled as she looked down on him and kissed his nose. She looked into his eyes again. “I can tell you want this, don’t you?”
This time he looked her in the eyes, slowly shaking his head up and down in affirmation.
“Then let’s make this something you’ll remember forever,” she suggested, as she pressed her lips to his.
She was gentle, kind, and patient. The minutes merged into hours, and Kadamba lost track of time, spinning in a world of pleasure and ecstasy. Hours later, he
awoke, realizing that she was in his arms. It was dark. He didn’t know what had happened to Dr. Tarea, and in that moment, he didn’t really care. He pulled Violet closer and drifted back to sleep.
The room was bright when he awoke again. She was gone, and he was alone, naked in the bed.
“Come on, lover boy,” a man’s voice stated. He rolled over and saw one of the thugs that had been standing by the sofa staring at him from across the room. “You wanna do business or not?”
Kadamba quickly pulled on his clothes and followed the man back to the room where he had first met Violet and Daddy Rings. Dr. Tarea was curled up on a sofa, with his head tucked under a cushion.
“Your honky friend can party,” Daddy Rings declared, sitting on the large sofa with Violet by his side. “She says you ain’t no narc or trouble of any kind. We can do business with you and the honky. It ain’t gonna be cheap, but since I got yo’ money, I know it ain’t no problem. Good thing Violet like you. Otherwise, well, you don’t even wanna know.”
Another man handed Kadamba the items that had been taken from his pockets the day before. The wallet still seemed to have all the money that he brought with him.
“It all there,” Violet assured him. “That a lot of cash to be carrying.”
Kadamba put everything back in his pockets, as Dr. Tarea began to groan. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered, as he sat up, putting his hands to his head. “What a night . . .”
A number of the people in the room began to laugh, including Daddy Rings. “Your honky friend found a few things he never try before. I think he be likin’ ‘em a lot.”
“Daddy Rings,” Dr. Tarea announced, as he stood up unsteadily, “I think you’re my new best friend.”
As the laughter began to recede, the door opened, and another black man stepped into the room. While everyone in the room was dressed casually and comfortably, the man who walked into the room was wearing a suit.
“Good morning, Ernest. Good morning, Violet,” the man stated in greeting, looking at Daddy Rings and Violet. “I understand we have some new customers.”
Dr. Tarea snorted a little laugh, “Daddy Rings sounds a lot more like you than Ernest does!”
“Still better than ‘Nahash,’” replied Daddy Rings with a chuckle. “You can go by Dr. Tarea, and I’ll be Daddy Rings.”
Kadamba realized that Violet had hardly taken her eyes off of him since he walked in. He looked around at the room. It wasn’t someplace he ever imagined himself standing or a situation he could have ever dreamed of being in, but it was okay. While he’d been intimidated and scared last night, today, he felt more relaxed. With the guns and the dark clothes, it was easy to see these people as thugs or villains, but they were just people.
“I’m Owen Johnson,” the man in the suit said, extending his hand to Kadamba and Dr. Tarea. “I’ll be helping you with your current dilemma. Please come with me.”
The two men followed Owen back into the corridor that wound through another set of hallways and stairs. Eventually, they came to a room that looked like an office. A camera was set on a tripod, pointing towards a light-blue screen against a wall. Each of them took a turn getting their pictures taken, and then Owen walked them back to the room where Daddy Rings was still seated on the sofa.
“Come back in five days. We’ll have papers for you then,” Owen promised, as he walked back out of the room. Kadamba turned and handed Daddy Rings a stack of bills. The large man thumbed through the bills with his ring-laden fingers. He smiled at the two of them. “This ain’t the way I usually do business, but it all good.”
He put his hand out to the side, and another man placed a vial in his hand. He smiled and looked at Dr. Tarea. “Here a lil gift from me to you.” Dr. Tarea took the vial and smiled at the Daddy Rings. “That be a gift from me to you, Nahash,” the man continued in a serious tone. “When you want more, just come on by, but don’t forget your wallet. You’ll have to buy it next time.”
Kadamba took a deep breath. This scene felt a little too familiar. It seemed drug dealers had some common traits, no matter what planet they were on.
Two days later, Kadamba and Dr. Tarea were back. This time they brought more cash. Dr. Tarea had gone through the cocaine that Daddy Rings had given him and wanted more.
Back at the hotel, Dr. Tarea tried to get Kadamba to try some.
“I’m just not interested,” Kadamba responded.
“Look boy, we’ve got a flight booked. We’re doing our job. Come on out and have some fun tonight,” declared Dr. Tarea.
“You go have fun. I’ll just hang out here at the hotel,” Kadamba told him.
Dr. Tarea slammed the door as he left. Kadamba wasn’t interested in seeing the man again, but knew he would be back at some point, but probably not soon.
After Dr. Tarea left, Kadamba headed back to the warehouse. He knocked on the door. The little window slid open, and then the door opened. “Back so soon?” asked the man.
“I was hoping I could see Violet,” replied Kadamba, hoping the man didn’t hear any desperation in his voice.
“Head on back,” the man directed, “She with Daddy Rings.”
The room was lit by the lava lamps, and Daddy Rings was sitting on his sofa. Music blasted from the boombox again. A number of people, including Violet, were dancing, gyrating to the pounding beat. Violet smiled when she saw him, pulling him into the group. His awkward movements made her laugh, and she whispered in his ear, “Guess you haven’t done this much either.”
She pulled him towards the door, back to her room. He was more confident this time, and they both found passionate pleasure in one another’s arms. They talked all night long. Kadamba learned that Ernest and Owen were her older brothers. They’d moved from Mississippi with their mother when they were kids. She’d worked three jobs to send Owen, the oldest, to college, but when he graduated, he couldn’t find a job. Ernest had figured out how to make money on the streets, and when their mother died young of cancer, all three siblings went into business together. The streets weren’t kind, but they made a living.
The next day, Kadamba returned to the hotel to find Dr. Tarea passed out in the bed with a prostitute. The next two nights were the same. Dr. Tarea would go out and party, while Kadamba spent time with Violet. In her bed, he began to think about what it might be like if Dr. Tarea were dead. Kadamba’s skills could probably be of use to someone like Daddy Rings. Violet cuddled in close to him, and he began to drift off.
The grass was as green as always, as were the shrubs and trees. Ka looked around the Landing. It was as quiet and still, as always, but rain was bouncing off the force-field cover that sheltered the Landing. The sky was dark grey, and lightning bounced between the clouds.
He walked back to the Freezies vendor, expecting to find Alorus hiding from the storm, but he wasn’t there. Ka walked to his favorite bench and sat down. He wasn’t even sure why he’d checked on Alorus. Maybe he was worried. Maybe he just didn’t want the boy to be scared.
“Does she have a little brother?” asked Alorus from behind Ka. He walked up, looking accusingly at Ka. “Think she’ll mind if you sell him some rath?”
The next day, Kadamba left the warehouse and then returned with Dr. Tarea to get their fake passports. Violet was gone. Kadamba knew it was probably for the best. Saying goodbye would be too hard, and he could never stay. His short stint as a drug dealer hadn’t turned out so well for him.
*****
Dr. Tarea stepped out onto the apartment balcony in London. “That hooker reminds me of that girl you were banging back in DC, probably not quite as sweet, but . . .”
Before Dr. Tarea could say anything else, Kadamba brushed by him, stepping back into the rundown apartment. “Get your ass in gear, doctor. The show’s over in twenty minutes.”
They’d already been to the small, dingy theater where Garrett Greyson, Master of Illusions, put on his cheap show. As far as Kadamba was concerned, it was a pathetic show, by an even more pathetic man. There was a wom
an in a box who was sawed in half, and other tricks and illusions that one could see at any traveling carnival sideshow. The show was nothing special, and Kadamba pressed Dr. Tarea on why he thought this man could be a Transprophetic.
Dr. Tarea had explained that it was the lameness of this show that made it stand out. There was nothing new in the show. Even on this planet, magicians strived to perform more complicated tricks. “He’s not doing anything new. He can use his skills, make money, and no one knows. If he was making waves and coming up with new ‘illusions,’ people would take notice. He’s just too ordinary to actually be ordinary.” It seemed a weak explanation to Kadamba, but he wasn’t the expert.
Kadamba stood in the alley behind the theater. They had watched the show the night before and knew that Garrett Greyson would leave the building long after the crowd had left. The pistol Kadamba jabbed into the man’s side made him shriek.
“The take’s already gone,” Garrett Greyson began to plead, “The manager—he takes it with him. There’s nothing left.”
“Unlock the door. We’re going back inside,” ordered Kadamba.
The man fumbled with his keys, finally opening the alley door and stepping inside the building. The hallway was littered with props, and Kadamba pushed the man through, telling him to go to the stage.
Dr. Tarea was waiting on the stage when Kadamba and Garrett pushed through the curtain. A single chair sat in the middle of the stage, and a spotlight shone brightly on the chair.
“Tape him to the chair,” commanded Dr. Tarea, gesturing to a roll of duct tape on a small table in front of the chair, lying next to a feather and a large knife. The man looked around frightfully, as Kadamba pushed him into the chair. Within a few moments, Garret Greyson’s legs were both taped to the chair’s legs while his hands and arms were secured to the chair’s back.