by Glenn, Roy
"I’m glad you said that, Nick cause I was gettin’ ready to shot your ass," Shy said and then showed me the pump she kept under the bar. She reached for a glass and a bottle of Bacardi.
"I still might shoot you. Who won?"
"Come on, Nick," Shy smiled at me while she poured her drink. "You know got your ass kicked."
I let go of my gun and laughed, "I’m glad you said that." Lifting my shirt to show her my gun. "So why does Black have you bartending?"
"It’s the managers day off. So I’m just filing in for the regular bartender. He should be here by now."
For the next hour, Shy waited on customers and she and I talked and got better aquatinted. We talked a little this and that, Shy told me how her and Black met, and about their adventure together. I talked about the old days running with Black, and about how I’d spent the last couple of weeks. And then the conversation turned. "Mind if I ask you a question?" Shy asked.
"Sure, go ahead."
"It’s personal."
"Ask me what you want to know," I said, curious about what Shy wanted to know.
Shy took a deep breath, "What happened between you and Bobby? I know there’s some drama with you two, but no one will ever say why."
"Did you ask Bobby?"
"No. Me and Bobby are cool, at least we are now, but I haven’t felt comfortable enough with him to ask."
"And you feel comfortable with me?"
"Yes, I do."
I looked at Shy. "I know what Black sees in you."
"What’s that?"
"It’s your eyes."
"You do know him." Shy leaned against the bar. "He said I have beautiful eyes, very expressive eyes."
"Your eyes say, it’s okay, Nick, you can tell me."
"Well?" Shy said.
She listened quietly while I told her the story. Once I finished, she said, "I understand why you’re havin’ such a hard time facing Bobby."
"You wanna share that wisdom with me?"
"You said it yourself. Betrayal. When you betrayed Bobby’s trust, you said you felt like you betrayed everybody."
"And?"
"That includes you. You betrayed yourself. And that’s what hurts you. So now that you know the whole story, you’re gonna have to forgive yourself for what happened. You were just a pawn in whatever game this woman was playing. Maybe when you forgive yourself, it will be easier for you to ask Bobby to forgive you."
I thought about what Shy said. "Maybe you’re right. I dishonored myself and then ran away, like a coward. I have to move past that. Make peace with Bobby and myself. Maybe then I won’t feel like such an outsider."
"That right," Shy said, and poured both of us another drink. "You know you have very trusting eyes, too. Or maybe its because I feel like an outsider sometimes, too, I don’t know. But I have to talk to somebody or I’ll go crazy." Shy took a sip of her drink. "Black’s not here because we had a fight last night. He left the house and I haven’t seen him since. He may be in New York or he may be right here on this island, I don’t know."
"What was the fight about?"
"You hit it dead center when you said I was bored. I miss New York and I want to go home. I really haven’t made any real friends down here," Shy leaned forward and whispered, "Probably because I can’t understand what they’re sayin’ half the time," Shy laughed. "And these woman, oh god, why they all gotta fall all over my man. And it’s not just these island bitches, the tourists are worst. Why do they have to have their half-naked asses, all up in his face, gigglin’ over every word he says, while I’m standin’ right there? I mean, Nick I try to rise above that, ’cause I know he really ain’t like that any more, but its hard. Bitches ain’t got no respect."
"Sometimes gettin’ bitches respect is over rated. As long as Black shows you respect, fuck them bitches. You’re his wife."
"I know that, Nick. And Michael shows me nothing but love and respect. And I love him so much for that. I know that’s just something I got to past. I guess I’m just a jealous woman and I’m tired of it, you know what I’m sayin’?" Shy poured herself another drink, and then she pushed the glass away. "But that’s not the real issue. That was just something I threw in to spice things up a little I guess," she laughed. "The fight was really about me wantin’ to go back to New York."
"But you can’t, because of the conspiracy charge," I said.
"He lost it when I told him that I would rather go home and do my time then say down here. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life, Nick. I want to be free."
"I can understand that. I know what it’s like to carry around a burden. Sometimes you got to face it, not runaway from it," I said, knowing that I should take my own advice. Just then, I looked and saw somebody I thought I knew sitting at a table by the door. "Excuse me a minute Shy, I’ll be right back." I got up and walked over to him. "Roman, Roman Patterson?" I asked. The man didn’t answer at first. He looked at the door and then slowly at me.
"Nick Simmons?" he said quietly and looked back at the door. "What are you doin’ here?"
"I’m visiting some old friends." I started to sit down.
"Get away from me, Nick. I’m waiting for somebody," he said practically in a whisper.
"What?"
"I’m DEA, Nick. Get away from me," he said loud enough for me to hear him this time. I turned quickly and walked away, just as three men, one white and two Hispanic, entered the club and sat down at the table with Roman. I went back to the bar and sat down. Shy came over to me, "What was up with that? You didn’t know him?"
"He’s DEA." I saw the expression on Shy’s face. "Calm down, he’s not here for you."
We looked on as the four men talked and laughed like old friends, until one of the Hispanic men glanced at me. The man stood up, and looked directly at me, took out his gun and shot the DEA agent in the head. Customers began running out the back door, turning over tables in their wake, while others drove on the floor. He turned and fired on me.
"Get down!" I yelled at Shy.
Shy ducked down behind the bar, while I fired wildly and took cover behind a table. The other two men broke out semi automatic weapons and began firing at me. They had me pinned down as they moved toward the door.
Shy reached for the pump. "Finally a little excitement on this rock." She rose up, took aim, and fired at and dropped the Hispanic man with the semi. Shy took cover, as the remaining two began shooting at her. This time it was me that came up blastin’; hitting the other Hispanic man who shot the agent. He went down.
Shy stayed low as she moved toward the end of the bar. She stood up and fired the pump just as the white man run out the door. I came out from behind the table, as Shy moved toward the door. With her back turned, she didn’t see one of the men get up.
"Shy! Behind you!" I yelled and aimed my weapon. But it was too late. The man had grabbed Shy and pointed his gun to her head.
"Drop it!" he yelled. Shy threw away the pump. "You too, drop it!" he yelled at me.
"Let her go!" I said taking a step closer.
The man fired, barely missing Shy. "I’ll kill her!"
I knew I should shot the man in the head before he should get a shot off. And I was about to when the white guy burst though the door, firing that semi. It gave them enough time to get out the door. By the time I got outside, they were gone.
Now that the shooting had stopped, people to get up off the floor and began to move around. The cook came out of the kitchen. "Go on and get out of here. I’ll take care of things here," the cook said.
I grabbed a tablecloth and picked up the pump. I picked up my suitcase and left the club though the back door. I walked quickly and with my head down, past the crowd, and along the beach until I reached the canal. Carefully I wiped the pump clean and then proceeded to smash it against the rocks. Then picked up all the pieces and put them back in the tablecloth. Then I walked down the canal and dropped broken pieces of the pump into the water. With all the pieces gone, I folded up the t
ablecloth and put it in my suitcase. I made my back to the main road and was able to flag down a cab. "Bahama Princess," I said as I got in the cab. "No, take me to the Lucayan Beach Hotel."
Once I arrived at the hotel, I checked in and went straight to my room. I opened up the suitcase and took the tablecloth and my gun out. I put the gun on the nightstand and took the tablecloth down the hall to the laundry shoot. I went back to the room and sat down on the bed. I tried but couldn’t seem to make sense of what had just happened. I picked up the phone and called Freeze at Cuisine.
"Cuisine," Freeze answered.
"Freeze, it’s Nick. Is Black there?"
"No, I thought he was down there with you? What’s goin’ on?"
"Some shooting went down at Black’s club. And — "I said, but Freeze interrupted.
"Hold up, Nick. Wanda and Bobby are here, I’m gonna put you on speaker." Great. "Nick, you still there?"
"I’m here."
"Now what happened?" Freeze asked."
"There was a shooting at Black’s club. Bandits killed a DEA agents and took Shy with them when they left."
"What!" Freeze said.
"They took Shy."
"Took her where?" Wanda asked excitedly.
"I don’t know." I replied.
"Start at the beginning, Nick. What happened?" Wanda asked.
"I saw a guy I knew, he turned out to be DEA. He wasn’t there looking for Shy, he was just meeting somebody there. One of the people he met recognized me, when he saw me kill shot the agent and started shooting at me. Shy pulled out a pump from under the bar and started shooting back. One of them got behind Shy and grabbed her on the way out the door."
"Did you recognize any of them, Nick?" Wanda asked.
"No."
"What they look like?" Freeze asked.
"One Hispanic male, South American, I think. The other one was white. The Hispanic man’s been shot."
"Damn!" Freeze said, "This is fucked up."
"What happened then, Nick?" Wanda asked. "What about the Police?"
"I got out of there with Shy’s pump and left the cook to deal with the cops."
"Okay, he’s a good man, he knows how to handle the situation," Wanda said.
"That depends on who shows up," Freeze said.
"Where are you staying?" Wanda asked.
"Lucayan Beach."
"Okay, stay there. I’ll call you back after I talk to the cook."
Before Wanda discounted the cal I heard Bobby say, "What’s he been down there, four hours?"
* * *
THE STORY CONTINUES IN THE MIKE BLACK SAGA BOOK TWO