Rock and Roll Voodoo

by Mark Paul Smith

  Amy kissed him back and stopped crying. “That’s right. I forgot. I’m so smart I’m marrying a rock star. What could go wrong with that?”

  Jesse stayed positive. “Nothing could go wrong with us. Let’s think about today. No more worrying about the future. What say we have a little fun, right now?”

  “We’ve already had more than our share,” Amy said, referring to their wake-up lovemaking.

  Jesse smiled. “Yes, that was more than fun. But wait, there’s more. What say we go down to the docks and jump a ship today?”

  Jesse was a bona fide thrill seeker. Besides train hopping, he was an avid water tower climber, parade crasher and traffic dodger. But jumping ship was, by far, his favorite thing to do. Amy loved Jesse’s crazy side, even though she did her best to keep him in check. It had taken many tours of the local docks before she learned to appreciate the joys of jumping ship.

  Jesse and Amy arranged to meet Tim and Loretta at 4 p.m. to set off on their adventure. It was going to be a couples’ kind of thing. Tim had been boarding ships with Jesse for months. Loretta was new to the ship jumping game, and she was more than uneasy about the entire process. “What if we get arrested? Would they put us in a tiny jail on the ship and take us back to their country?”

  Tim tried to reassure her. “Nobody’s going to get arrested. The sailors are always happy to see us.”

  Loretta was not convinced. “Isn’t it a little dangerous for us to get onboard a ship of horny sailors who haven’t been with a woman in months?”

  “I’ve never had a problem before,” Amy said.

  That wasn’t enough for Loretta. “There’s always a first time.”

  The four of them walked across Tchoupitoulas Street at Race Street, crossed the railroad tracks and approached the international docks along the Mississippi River near the Huey P. Long Bridge. They walked right up to the long gangplank of a Russian freighter. The red, hammer-and-sickle logo was painted on the hull of the ship, fore and aft. Jesse felt strangely drawn to the Russian ship, although it was one of many docked on the river. He felt the presence of the Voodoo voice, although it said nothing. He could feel a tingling coming up his back and neck and into the base of his skull.

  There was not a soul around, nobody guarding the docks.

  “Stay close,” Jesse said as he led the way up the steep, narrow walkway to the ship. The wood plank and rope pathway swayed slightly underfoot.

  Loretta followed reluctantly. “This thing is moving every step I take. We’re all going to end up in the river.”

  Amy tried to help. “Go on in front of me, Loretta. It’s safe. All the sailors use it. We’ll be on deck in no time.”

  “Does anyone remember there’s a cold war going on?” Loretta asked.

  Jesse turned around to talk to her. “There’s no cold war on the Mississippi River. This ship is a welcome guest in our country. Think of yourself as a goodwill ambassador.”

  Loretta didn’t say anything until the four of them were safely on the deck of what felt like a massive ghost ship. There was no one there to greet them. The three-story loading cranes were unmanned. The decks were cleared and empty of cargo. Even the captain’s bridge, high above the deck, seemed deserted.

  Loretta turned around to leave. “Okay. This is way too spooky. It feels like a trap. Let’s get out of here.”

  Jesse took her hand. “No way. Let’s walk to the bow. We’ve got this ship to ourselves. The crew is on leave in the city. Maybe we could hijack the whole thing.”

  “Now, that’s exactly the kind of crazy stunt I was afraid you’d pull,” Loretta said as she turned again to walk back to the gangplank.

  “Come on, Loretta,” Amy said as she coaxed Loretta back into following Jesse to the ship’s bow. “He’s kidding about the hijacking. We’ve done this before. There’s never any trouble.”

  The four of them had just reached the bow and were looking over the edge at the river when Jesse felt like he was being watched. He turned his head around and, sure enough, a man with binoculars was standing on the top floor of the bridge, looking right at him. The man was talking into a radio. As Jesse was waving to say hello, two men with rifles came running out a steel door at the base of the bridge.

  Loretta collapsed at Tim’s feet and wet her blue jeans. A dark spot spread around her crotch. “I knew it. We’re all gonna die.”

  Tim and Jesse already had their hands in the air. The men with rifles were running toward them. A third man came out of the steel door and yelled at the other two to stop. They cowered at his Russian command. He spoke in English as he approached his uninvited and frightened guests. “You can put your hands down. Sorry about the rifles. Anyone can see there is no need for violence. Somebody gave the wrong order. But I must ask, what are you doing on my ship?”

  “Are you the captain?” Jesse asked.

  “Maybe yes, maybe no. Do you not answer my question?”

  Jesse talked fast as he lowered his hands. “Oh, sorry. We live right over there on Tchoupitoulas Street. We’re musicians. We love ships.”

  The man smiled approvingly and held out his arm for a handshake as he said, “Musicians from New Orleans. I love the Jazz music. Welcome to my ship.”

  Amy smiled her sweetest. “Thank you, commander, for your hospitality.”

  “I am no commander. I am cargo ship captain.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Loretta said, collecting herself as she stood up. “I thought we were going to get shot for a minute there.”

  The ship captain looked at her wet jeans but pretended not to notice. “Yes, please excuse my men. They are on watch for thieves.”

  Tim glanced around. “I don’t see anything to steal. It looks like you are empty.”

  “Yes, we have unloaded,” the captain said. “But there are many valuable things below deck. Come with me and I will show you. Will you have drink with me?”

  Jesse was pleased and relieved by the invitation. “Absolutely. We’ll do our part to end the cold war.”

  “Ah, that is in newspapers only. It is not in the hearts of the Russian people. And I am sure not in the hearts of Americans.”

  “I don’t know,” Amy said. “Too many Americans think communism is a dirty word.”

  “Do you think my country is communist?” the captain asked. “Do you think China is communist? Come with me and we will have a toast to the myth of communism.”

  The captain led his four guests into the steel door at the base of the bridge and down several flights of steep, metal stairs. Sailors peeked out of their rooms as the group made its way through narrow halls. There were some catcalls when the women were spotted, but the hecklers quickly ducked back inside their rooms when the captain barked at them. The now-invited guests were deep within the ship and totally disoriented by the time they came to a tall, oval door, ominously marked with a large, red star. Amy gave Jesse a look that said she thought this might be some kind of trouble. Jesse motioned for her to step into the captain’s room.

  “Here we are,” the captain said as he led them into his quarters, compact but roomy as a large, mobile home. The first thing Jesse saw on the wall was a framed photo of Vladimir Lenin. On the captain’s table was a copy of the official state newspaper, the Pravda.

  “Oh, my,” Loretta said. “It sure looks like communism in here.”

  The captain laughed as he brought out a bottle of Russian vodka and poured five shots into small water glasses. “Here’s to communism, a great idea that never happened.”

  The five new acquaintances clinked glasses and downed their shots.

  The captain softened his tone. “Come, sit with me. This corner table has room for eight people. I sometimes meet my officers here.” He poured another round of shots and held up his glass. “And now we drink to American Jazz, yes?”

  They clinked glasses again and drank quickly.

  Jesse decided to set the record straight. “Actually, we’re more rock and roll than jazz.”

  “Ah, I shou
ld have known,” the captain said. “You look like rock and roll. Who is your favorite band?”

  “The Beatles,” Jesse answered without hesitation. No one contradicted him.

  The captain agreed. “Of course. We know of Beatles. We can sometimes buy record on black market. Rock and roll is official banned in Soviet Union. The people, they love, but party … no.”

  “That’s just wrong,” Loretta said a little too loudly. The vodka had loosened her up quickly.

  Everybody laughed nervously as the captain poured another round of shots. This one they sipped slowly as they talked for a good long time about what was wrong with their respective countries. Eventually, they all agreed that most of what ailed the citizens of both countries could be blamed on government. The conversation shifted from politics to food to movies and religion and back to politics. If loose lips sink ships then drunken lips keep them afloat. Jesse was having a ball getting blasted in the captain’s quarters.

  By the time they lifted the glasses for the fifth toast, the captain paused, and then continued in a hushed tone. “Shall we drink to the Voodoo?”

  Tim joined in the toast. “By all means. We’re in New Orleans, and Jesse knows the Voodoo queen.”

  The captain downed his shot and looked at Jesse. “Really? I need to talk about the Voodoo.”

  Jesse was ready to talk Voodoo. “Go ahead. There’s no tape recorder in here, is there?”

  “No,” the captain laughed. “My country too cheap for recording devices. What I want to say is not to be recorded. I should not say. I sound crazy.”

  “Join the club,” Loretta said.

  The captain looked around the table at each pair of eyes eagerly awaiting his confession. “Yes, I say it. I am hearing a—what you call—a voice. We dock in the city and, same night in my bed, I hear voice.”

  “Was it the very deep voice of an African man?” Tim asked.

  The captain grabbed Tim’s arm. “Yes. Yes. You hear it like me?”

  Tim deferred to Jesse. “I’ve heard it once but Jesse has heard it many times.”

  Jesse tried to conceal his excitement. This was even more than he suspected from his feelings of premonition upon choosing to board the Russian ship. “What did it say to you?”

  The captain looked around his cabin suspiciously before finally answering in a slow whisper, “It says … leave ship.”

  “You mean, like defect?” Amy asked. “Like, run away from your country?”

  The captain hung his head. “Yes. To betray Mother Russia.”

  “What about your wife?” Amy asked.

  “I have no wife, no children.”

  “You should do it,” Loretta said, clearly relishing the thickening of the plot. “You can walk right off this boat with us and no one will be the wiser.”

  “I do have one friend in New Orleans. We write letters. I can go to him. He owns restaurant in city center.”

  “What’s his name?” Jesse asked.

  The captain hesitated again, as if he were about to share another secret. Then he answered. “His name is Rod. He is gay.”

  “We know Rod,” Tim and Loretta and Jesse and Amy all howled happily.

  “We love Rod,” Jesse said. “We eat at his grill all the time when we’re in the French Quarter. We don’t care if he’s gay.”

  The captain seemed vastly relieved. “That is good to hear. Good you know Rod. I can’t believe it. You have been sent to me. Now I say what I never say in my country.”

  “You can say anything you want,” Loretta said as she encouraged him by holding his arm.

  The captain paused and looked around the table again. He took a deep breath. “I am gay.” He looked at his guests to check their reaction. He was holding his breath.

  They let out a cheer for him. It was so loud he had to motion for them to keep it down.

  “Don’t worry about being gay,” Tim said. “Our lead singer is gay. Half the French Quarter is gay.”

  “It is big problem in my country,” the captain said. “In my country, is illegal. Go to jail, or worse.”

  Loretta was now on a mission. “We’re not leaving this ship without you.”

  They had another round of vodka and talked excitedly about the captain making his escape. He began gathering what belongings he wanted to take with him, and had his new friends put his personal items in their pockets. Tim and Jesse put on several layers of his shirts and jackets. He couldn’t be seen leaving with a suitcase in hand.

  By the time they left the captain’s quarters, it was almost 8 p.m. They were all barely able to walk, both from the Vodka and the excess baggage. Jesse had on three pair of the captain’s pants and four of his shirts. Tim also had several layers. Loretta was able to carry a bag of underwear and toiletries between her legs, under her long dress. The five of them were drunk as lords as they stumbled down the swinging gangplank and made their way across the tracks to Amy and Jesse’s apartment building. The captain didn’t say a word until they were safely inside. At that point, he let out a triumphant shout.

  “I did it. I am free man. Thank you for saving me.”

  “Can somebody else drive the ship back to Russia?” Amy asked as they walked up the three flights of steps to her apartment.

  “Oh, yes. I have good friend on board who can take the ship. He will know what is going on. He is cover for me.”

  Amy got everybody a glass of ice water as they packed the captain’s belongings into one of her suitcases. After all the vodka, they needed hydration. The captain seemed like he was in a state of shock as he slowly realized there would be no turning back.

  “I can’t believe I do it. I leave ship. What I want to do for so many years,” he said. “Last year, I was close. This year, you, my new friends, save me.”

  They gathered together for a group hug as the captain broke down and wept tears of gratitude and relief.

  It didn’t take long before the five of them piled into the band van and drove to the French Quarter. Jesse parked a block away from Rod’s. They were all in a celebratory mood. Rod was at the grill when he saw the captain walk in the door. After a double take and then a triple take, he dropped everything, and ran to embrace his long lost friend. “Look what my favorite band brings me,” he howled. “My long lost brother in love, Dmitry!”

  The two men hugged and danced and then hugged and danced with anyone in the restaurant who was willing and able. Jesse felt privileged to witness such a touching and joyous reunion. He tasted his own tears before he realized he was crying.

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m burning everything,” Rod glanced to the kitchen. “Sit, everybody, sit. I’ll make us all a special Russian omelette. Come with me, Dmitry, I’ll show you the kitchen and your room upstairs. Let me just put this grill on hold for a minute. I can’t believe you finally did it.”

  “I’m not sure I could have done it without my new friends,” Dmitry said. “They helped me be brave.”

  “Smells like you had a little vodka courage going for you as well,” Rod said.

  As they waited for the late, late breakfast to be served, Amy asked, “So what is it with this voice everybody but me seems to be hearing?”

  Loretta put herself in Amy’s category. “I haven’t heard it.”

  “I’ve only heard it once,” Tim said.

  The three of them looked at Jesse.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m no expert but it seems to me the voice only comes to you when you are truly seeking.”

  “What do you mean?” Amy asked.

  “It’s kind of like they say, when the student is ready the teacher appears,” Jesse said.

  “Are you saying I’m not ready?” Amy asked.

  Jesse realized his untenable position. “No, that is definitely not what I’m saying. You probably don’t need any answers right now. The voice seems to be need based, wouldn’t you say, Tim?”

  “I’m not saying anything,” Tim said. “You dug yourself into this hole. I’m dying to see how you dig yours
elf out.”

  Amy let him off the hook. “Don’t worry about it, Jesse, the only voice I need to hear is yours.”

  Everybody moaned appreciatively and the table swung back into its good-time spirit. Dmitry rejoined the group as the food arrived on steaming plates, piled high with peppers and sausage and eggs and potatoes. They were all hungry after an evening of drinking on the Russian freighter.

  No one noticed Carmen’s arrival until she was standing at the edge of the table with a huge grin on her face.

  “You must be Captain Dmitry. Welcome to America. We’ve been waiting a long time to make your acquaintance.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SLAVE REVOLT

  Jesse met his friend in law school, Casey, at Felix’s Oyster Bar to get all the latest news. Casey did not disappoint. He told Jesse that Dupre was out of jail and that one of his law professors was working on the case. He said the plan the feds had to make Dupre testify against his club members had not worked since Dupre exercised his constitutional right to remain silent. His attorneys got his bond reduced and Dupre posted bail.

  “What about the Wheelers and the Gypsies?” Jesse asked.

  “Everybody’s laying low,” said Casey. “Both gangs have been infiltrated by the feds. It looks like the bayou won’t be cocaine alley for long. Anybody with half a brain is leaving the region.”

  “What about Pete?”

  Casey had all the answers. “Pete’s in rehab. Somebody told me he actually had a stroke. He got scared and checked himself in. He was deep in the shit.”

  “He’s about as much of a cocaine dealer as he is a band manager,” Jesse said.

  Casey agreed. “Pete’s a real estate agent who got lucky on a couple big sales and thought his roll would never end.”

  “I knew he wasn’t the guy for us when he started not showing up all over the place,” Jesse said.

  Casey signaled the waiter for another round of Guinness beer. “He couldn’t stay out of his own stash.”

  Jesse clapped his hands and rubbed them together in a washing motion. “Let that be a lesson to all of us who don’t have our stash.”