by Lee Thompson
I wondered if it was simply a ploy, a trap, for the foolish and unsuspecting.
Many men had fallen to another’s viciousness when provided an opening.
He leaned forward and said, “I’m hurt that you don’t want my help with Lincoln and his friends. You kill them, or they kill you, nobody gains anything, right?”
“I’ll gain satisfaction,” I said.
“How long will satisfaction last?” Fat Lou asked.
Robert raised his hand, as if we were in a classroom. Lou pointed at him and said, “Yes, Mr. Stevens?”
“Sir, James thinks that Lincoln might have killed Harley.”
Lou looked troubled, and then deeply troubled. He said, “Boys sometimes get out of hand, but that is unacceptable. Especially to damage one as sweet as our little Harley.” He turned in the door and said, “I will call them. They will bring her here.”
“You want trouble at your door?” I asked. It didn’t add up. I thought I could trust Lou about as much as I could trust Lincoln. “Why are you so concerned about my sister?”
“I’m not,” he said, “but Mr. Stevens is, and he works hard for me. Very hard. I think that if they hurt Harley too bad, then Mr. Stevens will feel very down, very useless. I like to see Mr. Stevens happy because he makes me happy. I’ll call them. They’ll bring her to you.”
“It sounds too easy,” I said.
Robert said, “Sir?”
Fat Lou had turned away, but he turned back now. “What?”
“What are we going to have to give them for Harley?”
“Nothing,” Fat Lou said. Then he left the laundry room/office and I heard his steps slowly fade. I looked at Robert and he at me. I shook my head, whispered, “Lincoln and his goons aren’t going to do what he wants, you know that, right?”
Robert shrugged. “Lou has a lot of power. And he didn’t say it, but he does have a personal stake in Harley’s well-being.”
“How’s that?” I said, knowing that there had to be more to Lou’s interest than just Robert’s crush on my sister.
Robert said, “He loaned her a lot of money.”
“For what?”
“To pay for your mother’s medical bills.”
“How much money?”
“Seventy-five large.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“That doesn’t even cover all of your mom’s expenses, James.”
“She never mentioned it to me.”
“Why would she?”
“Because I could have done something to help her.”
“Lou helped her.”
“How long would it take her to pay him back that kind of money?”
“Well,” Robert said, blushing a little, “with my help, she’ll have him paid back in ten years.”
“That’s quite a debt. How does Lou get anything out of it?”
“He’s earned my undying loyalty,” Robert said.
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“He’s earned Harley’s.”
“More still,” I said. “No offense, but you two could be just about anybody.”
“I don’t know then,” Robert said. “I know you think he’s just some greedy asshole, like all those guys who make it to the top, who own something and have influence, but I think he did a really good thing in helping your family. He could have told her she had some brass balls for asking such a huge loan, and he could have told me I was insane for helping her in paying it back…”
“You are insane, Robert. It’s not your debt.”
He rubbed his temples, said, “I just want Harley safe and happy.”
“I understand that.”
“I don’t think you do,” he said.
“I wonder how Lou’s talk is going with our buddy Lincoln.”
“What if they’ve killed her?” Robert asked.
“Then I’ll kill them,” I said. “And not Lou, or you, or anyone else will stop me.”
“I wouldn’t try to stop you,” Robert said.
“I know.” I slapped his shoulder and said, “You better go get your shotgun.”
“You can’t be in here alone,” he said, “I’ll need you to come out with me.”
We went into the five-car garage. He pulled the shotgun from under the front seat of an Aston Martin. It was a beautiful car, it actually took my breath away a little. There were three other cars parked beside it. I didn’t know what they were. They were more roadster style, two-seat deals, all convertibles, tiny but probably extremely powerful. Robert said, “He doesn’t let me drive those cars. They’re just for him, a way for him to unwind.”
“Let’s go find him,” I said. “The sooner we can find out what Lincoln said, the sooner we’ll know if my sister is okay.”
“She better be,” Robert said. “If you got her killed, I might kill you.”
I shrugged. “Then be prepared for that.”
We went back into Lou’s house through the laundry room. Lou was approaching, he noticed Robert had the shotgun. He said, “What are you doing?”
“We’re not facing those guys unarmed,” Robert said.
Lou nodded, took a moment to ponder something. When he looked up, he said, “I couldn’t reach them. It might take a few hours.”
I said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead,” Lou said, and his eyes drew blank, reptilian. I think it was the tone of my voice, and Lou being as sharp as he was. He waited. I wanted to word it just right but it was taking me too long to think how to do so and he appeared to be growing impatient. So, I said, “Does Don Gray work for you?”
“The policeman?”
“Are you pretending you don’t know him on a first-name basis?”
“Of course I know him,” Lou said. “What are you getting at?”
“Did you just call him and tell him I was here?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He just seemed pretty comfortable in your club.”
“So that makes him an employee?”
“It was a stupid question,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He looked offended. But it was all so well-rehearsed, even the slow manner with which he seemed to calm down and shrug it off as if these things happen. He said, “I’ve known him for years. I know most of the police force. I knew your father.”
“Is that some kind of personal jab?”
“Just stating a fact.”
“Did my dad frequent your club?”
“From time to time,” Lou said. “But he wasn’t like most men. He was always looking for somebody, you know? I’ve never seen somebody work as hard as he did, even when he was out of uniform, he was playing detective.”
I said, “He did. He wanted to be one.”
“But then,” Lou said, “somebody killed him.”
He smiled at me and watched me closely to see what kind of reaction he would get.
I nodded again, said, “So, has Don worked for you?”
“Indirectly,” Lou said. “But it’s none of your business, Mr. Jackson. And I’ll insist that you show more respect in another man’s house. Accusations have led to shifts in loyalty.”
Robert said to me, “Quit pushing your luck. I warned you once already.”
“Okay,” I said. I smiled at both of them. I wanted to hurt somebody. We all wanted to hurt somebody. I said, “I’m going to go look for my sister.”
“Where will you search?” Lou said.
“I don’t know,” I lied.
“Remember my offer,” he said.
Robert held the shotgun down by his side. He asked Lou, “Is it okay if I’m gone for the rest of the day?”
“To help Mr. Jackson?” Lou asked.
Robert nodded. He looked like a boy who was asking for something he knew he shouldn’t have, but his desire was so great that he couldn’t have restrained himself. I wondered what he would do if Lou told him that he needed to stay there at the house and do his job. And Lou said, “You know I cou
nt on you for almost everything.”
“Yes,” Robert said.
“You’re the type of man I like to have around here. You’re indispensable. And I can clear all of this trouble up as soon as I reach Lincoln on the phone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But you also have a life apart from me,” Lou said. “I realize that. And I know how much Ms. Jackson means to you. So, you need time to help her brother look for her, it’s yours. But you come back as soon as you do and we pick up where we left off. Understood?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
Fat Lou waved his hand. He said to me, “Don’t get Robert killed, or I will take a pound of flesh from you, Mr. Jackson, do you understand? I am not the police. I can find you anywhere. Robert is almost a son to me.”
Robert blushed again. He was like a little boy in so many ways I can’t even begin to explain them.
I said, “He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine.”
“Then you don’t know the men you’re hunting at all,” Lou said.
5
Robert had a new Jeep Wrangler parked around the back of the house. The top was off it. There were ten bags of water softener in the back. I helped him carry them down into the basement, passed a wine cellar, into a little room where Christmas supplies and hunting gear were stored. I grabbed a small waist pack and slid it down the front of my pants. When we went back upstairs, and out onto the stone patio, I saw Lou inside, on a cordless phone, talking animatedly. He didn’t look away from me. I followed Robert to the Jeep and climbed in the passenger seat. I said, “Swing by the rental car out front. I need to grab some bullets off the seat.”
Robert drove around front and stopped by the Impala. I pulled the waist pack out of my pants and filled it with ammunition. I strapped it around my midsection and pulled my shirt over it. Robert had the shotgun sitting between us. I said, “Maybe you should cover that with a towel or something.”
He grabbed a gym bag from the backseat and removed a towel and covered the weapon. He tossed the gym bag behind us. He said, “Is there anything else we’re going to need?”
“A five-gallon metal can full of gas,” I said.
“For what?”
“For the pyrotechnic distraction.”
“You make me nervous,” Robert said.
“I’ve heard that from other people. Does he have a can here?”
“Not one like that. But I’ve got one at my house.”
“Let’s go get it,” I said.
He drove. The gate guard waved. The wind felt good. It took twenty minutes to drive to Robert’s house. His little brother Derrick was asleep on the sagging porch. There was an empty bottle of Southern Comfort on a small green metal table next to him. We parked in front of the garage, which was open and packed with a lifetime of junk. Robert said, “Excuse the mess. When my parents passed on, I got the house and I couldn’t toss anything of theirs.”
“Grab the gas can,” I said.
Derrick woke slowly. He stumbled down off the porch and approached me. Robert was in the garage, moving boxes of his parents’ clothing out of the way. He pushed a lawn mower out of the garage. He told Derrick, “Mow the grass today.”
Derrick nodded, grinned sheepishly at his brother, then turned to me. He leaned against the door and said, “What are you guys up to?”
“Going skeet shooting. You want to come?”
He laughed in a nervous way, and rubbed his head, and said, “I’ve got a killer headache. Hearing guns go off is the last thing I need.” He glanced at the garage and said, “What is he searching for?”
“A gas can,” I said.
Derrick licked his lips and then studied my face. He said, “You don’t look crazy.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Man, you should have seen how worked up the Tribesmen were when they came back in the Lady the other night. I thought the fat one might have a heart attack.”
He doesn’t have to worry about that anymore, I thought.
Derrick said, “You should be hiding.”
“Probably.”
“Robert thinks you have a death wish.”
“He told me,” I said.
“Do you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s it feel like to be so far out there?”
“It feels normal,” I said.
He laughed and slapped the door, and shook his head. “I wish I had your balls.”
“No you don’t.”
“No, I really do. I can’t stand most of the people who come into the bar. I’d like to tell them to hit the road, but I can’t, you know?”
“Find another job,” I said.
“It’s not easy in this economy. And it’s about all I’m good at. Plus I like hanging with some of the dancers. They’re smarter than most of the guys who come in there.”
“I’d imagine so,” I said.
“Are you going to blow town after your mother dies?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s starting to feel so much like home again.”
It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t sure if I was kidding. I didn’t know either. I’d played on a lot of these streets, I’d had friends back then, my dad had been respected, I liked most of my teachers, my mom hadn’t had cancer, my sister was pure and believed that boogiemen only existed in the movies. I’d had Angela in my life and no woman I met since her has ever done anything for me except annoy me. I could have used my scholarship to build a good life for me and Angela and she could have had her studio. We could have lived in the suburbs and had cookouts. We could have taken a two-week vacation every year with our family. I could have been there to watch my dad fulfill his dream of becoming a detective. I could have kept the friends I’d had as a little boy and cheered for them when they did something they were proud of.
I said, “I kind of wish I could stay.”
Derrick said, “Me too.” Then his eyes went from dull to bright. He smirked in the way only fools can, and said quietly while his brother searched the garage, “Did you think any more about helping me on that job we talked about?”
“If you rob Fat Lou, he’ll find out and he’ll have you castrated,” I said. “Don’t fuck with him. He knows too many people.”
“He’s a soft, old man.”
I shook my head. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“You’re one to talk. And even worse you’re dragging Rob into it.”
“Your brother wants to make sure Harley is all right.” I rubbed the rough patch of whiskers growing along my jawline. I asked him if Don Gray had mentioned me.
Derrick said, “Stay away from him.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
“He’ll kill you,” he said.
Robert came back carrying a beat-up metal gas can. He placed it in the rear compartment and said, “Who is going to kill James?”
Derrick said, “Don Gray.”
Robert climbed in the driver’s seat. He said, “That ain’t no joke. You need to avoid Don at all costs.”
“I wish I could,” I said.
“Don’t wish,” Robert said, “make it happen.”
Derrick said, “Are you guys taking Harley skeet shooting with you?”
Robert said, “Skeet shooting?”
I said, “If we run across her. I missed her more than you can imagine.”
Derrick smiled boyishly. He said, “If I have my way I’ll steal her away from both Lincoln and Robert.”
“Good luck,” I said. “You’ll probably have to fight your brother for her, but she’ll love all the attention.”
“If we had to fight over her I’d just let Rob have her. I’ve taken enough beatings from him.”
Robert said, “He’s smarter than he looks, isn’t he?”
I nodded, slapped the edge of the door. “Nice chatting with you, kid, but we’ve gotta get rolling. It’s going to be a fun day. Go take some aspirin.”
We pulled out onto the
road. Derrick watched us go. He wasn’t a bad kid, just had his head in the clouds and thought he was invincible and smarter than he actually was. I thought I needed to give decent people more of a chance. But that time would have to come later, for now, there was a reckoning underway.
* * *
The Tribesmen clubhouse in Opa-Locka, north of Miami, was a bad part of town for your average citizen. But really you could buy crack anywhere, they practically sold the shit on every other street corner all throughout Miami. People dreamed of living there though, thought it a paradise, until they dealt with the drugs, the traffic, the illegals, the heat, the rain, and the crime. I found the same shit all over after I left the Keys and worked under-the-table jobs. Big town, little town, they’re all filled with people out to make a buck at your expense, and force-feed you a dream that begins to molder in your mind once reality hits. It’s not really a big surprise that the scumbags promise your average person the world, it’s more shocking that so many seemingly intelligent civilians fall for it.
But hell, we all need hope.
When the original bar had been open for business, it was the poor workingman, and the destitute, who frequented its worn interior. Nobody ever found out who started the fire that closed the place up, and nobody really cared, because as much as it was an oasis for men who lived paycheck to paycheck, it was also, deep in their minds, the place that fueled their hopelessness and what many of them felt caused their bad luck.
There was a gas station across the road that had been robbed dozens of times. There were dirty gray trash-littered side streets off the main thoroughfare, where houses had long ago fallen into disrepair, but was all their occupants had to call their own.
It was a desperate place filled with decent people, just like anywhere else, only these people knew heartache every single day; mothers worried about their boys being beaten on their way home from school, or that their sons would be the one to administer a beating to another boy, usually for nothing more than meeting someone’s gaze directly. Lots of people walked with their heads down, and those who didn’t lived to challenge the rest of the world and show that they were not afraid of anyone or anything despite the simple fact that they had nothing to defend but their own pride.