A Dollar and A Dream

by Carl Weber, La Jill Hunt, Angel Hunter; Dwayne S. Joseph

  I thought about Lisa up in the room, pregnant with our child. She deserved a better man than me. Someone who would love her unconditionally; someone to be her best friend, her confidant, someone that she could always depend on. I knew those were the qualities she was bringing to the table. After I cashed the ticket, I would try my hardest to match her in kind. I may not have intended to fall in love, but there was no denying that I was sprung. A smile crept onto my face as I thought about grabbing her in my arms, squeezing her tightly, and making sure she knew how I felt about her.

  But my smile quickly disappeared as Joe and Marcus appeared in the lobby. Shit. Joe and I locked eyes as they approached me. Without words he let me know how bad the situation was. Marcus smiled at me. We were alone in the lobby save for the lone clerk behind the desk, who was too into his phone conversation to notice when Marcus moved the gun from behind Joe’s back and pointed it at me.

  “What’s up, DeVante,” Marcus said softly. I thought about doing something like making a quick and sudden move for the gun like the heroes did in the movies. But when Marcus pointed the gun at Joe’s ribs, daring me, I quickly changed my mind. Besides, I was no hero and in real life, action was a lot slower than the action on the big screen. “I assume you have rooms since Lisa isn’t here, so why don’t we go up to her and the four of us have a chat.”

  “Nydia and Sheila…where are they?” I asked.

  Marcus smiled. “Sheila’s in your apartment lying in a pool of her own blood and Nydia didn’t like the way the game you started was being played, so I kicked her off the team—permanently. Now give me the room key and let’s go have that chat.”

  17

  The ride in the elevator to the fourth floor was a quiet one, save for Marcus’s whistling. He was feeling good. In less then twenty-four hours he’d discovered a side of himself that he never knew existed, and he was pleased.

  Joe and DeVante kept their backs flat against the back of the elevator and watched him. They were lost in their own thoughts. Joe was thinking about his family and the possibility of never seeing them again. He wished that he had been more adamant about splitting the money the way they originally planned. Joe studied Marcus as he held the gun before him. He should never have gone along with DeVante. Thirty million should have been enough. He clenched his jaw as an image of his boys and wife flashed through his mind again. His wife, Shantal, and her full figure and sexy smile; he regretted not holding her a second longer before he left for work yesterday. And his boys: he should have hugged them tighter. Until now, he’d never thought of the possibility of them being without him. He’d planned on being there for them forever, or as close to forever as he could come. Joe fought back a tear that threatened to well and fall. For the first time in his life, his existence held importance, and unlike the other times in the past, he wanted to live.

  DeVante took a quick glance at Joe, and saw the glassy sheen in his eyes. He looked back to Marcus, who smiled at him when he did. He held Marcus’s gaze for a few seconds and then averted it to the .45. Marcus’s index finger tapped softly on the trigger, itching to squeeze it. DeVante looked back up at him. The uppity guidance counselor was gone, and had been replaced by an insane, money-hungry individual who had visible tinges of blood on his hands and under his fingernails. DeVante thought about Lisa. He couldn’t let her meet the same fate as Sheila and Nydia. He glanced at the .45 again; somehow he had to get it out of Marcus’s hands.

  The elevator came to a slow stop on the fourth floor and the doors slid open. Marcus flashed an evil grin and dangled the room key. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Joe moved first, while DeVante hesitated and took a moment to give Marcus a defiant glare. Marcus smiled. “I dare you,” he said, tightening his grip around the butt of the .45. DeVante wanted to make a move, but knew it wasn’t the time or place. He followed behind Joe. Marcus concealed the gun in his coat pocket and walked behind them slowly. His finger was ready, and in his mind he’d already pulled the trigger. “Please do something stupid,” he begged the two men.

  When they got to room 414, Marcus ordered them to stop. Keeping his gun trained on them and his finger on the trigger, he slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Then he ordered them to walk in ahead of him.

  “I was wondering if you two were coming back,” Lisa said, just walking out of the bathroom as they walked inside. They had been gone a lot longer than they said they would, and Lisa couldn’t help but wonder if they had decided to leave her behind and keep the money for themselves. Her relief was short-lived, however, as Marcus walked into the room behind them. “Marcus?” she said softly.

  “In the flesh,” Marcus said, revealing the gun.

  “Marcus, you have a gun,” Lisa said, eyeing it cautiously.

  “I do, don’t I?” Marcus said. “I guess that means you better do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. Now get over there on the bed. You two join her.” He shoved DeVante in the back, causing him to bump into Joe. With all three people on one of the twin beds, Marcus took a moment to slip a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob outside, and then grabbed a chair from the small desk in the corner and sat down. He stared at DeVante, who returned his glare in kind. Then he looked from Joe to Lisa. The room was silent, save for a few subtle knocking noises coming from the room next to them. “I guess we’re not the only ones having fun,” Marcus commented. “So, what a day, huh?”

  “Look, Marcus, cut the bullshit, all right,” DeVante said sharply. “Let’s just get down to business.”

  “Get down to business? What business would that be?”

  “Your portion of the winnings. Forty-five million dollars.”

  “His portion?” Lisa asked. “What about Nydia and Sheila? Where are they, Marcus?”

  Marcus scratched the back of his head with the gun and squinted his eyes. “Well, Lisa, I really couldn’t stand either one of them, so I decided that they didn’t deserve to have any of the money.”

  “What did you do to them?” Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.

  In a low and unsympathetic tone, Marcus said, “What do you think?”

  “My God,” Lisa whispered.

  “God had nothing to do with it. But anyway, enough of the small talk. Like you said, DeVante, let’s get down to business. You were right…I did come to discuss my portion of the one hundred and eighty million dollars. One hundred and eighty million that was supposed to be split six ways until you decided to keep it all for yourself. See, at first it really bothered me that you would do such a thing. I mean, we all put money in for those tickets. We all deserved to quit the shitty school system that we slave for, and live the rest of our lives without ever having to worry about bills or never having enough to get the things we want. We were all supposed to be rich. You, Joe, Lisa, Nydia, Sheila, and myself. Thirty million dollars apiece. It should have been that simple.

  “But now look at what’s happened. Sheila’s dead and you’ll be blamed for it. Nydia is dead, lying facedown in a Ford Expedition that I had to steal to track you down. Her death is on your shoulders, and so is the teenager’s whose neck I had to snap when I stole the Ford. And it doesn’t even end there for you, DeVante. Because when I leave here, you will have the deaths of both Joe and Lisa to live with. All of this you caused by trying to cheat a few honest and hard-working individuals.

  “Now, I admit, that sounds bad. And in a way, maybe it is. Like I said, it bothered me that you would do that to us. I mean, who the hell were you to try a thing like that? Let’s face it, you’re nothing but a drunk ex-druggie who cleans up the filth that teenagers leave behind. But, you see, I was upset without truly understanding what you were doing.”

  Marcus paused and cracked his neck. DeVante watched him carefully. Joe sat immobile while Lisa struggled to keep her composure. Marcus continued after a chuckle.

  “You want to know something, DeVante?” He paused and waited for a reply that didn’t come. He stood up and walked over to the bed and stood before DeVante. He looked
down at the janitor he never had any respect for, and without warning, pistol-whipped him across the face. DeVante fell to the ground while Lisa screamed. Joe made a move to help his friend who lay on the floor.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Marcus screamed at Lisa. He then pointed the gun at Joe’s temple. “Leave him alone. I asked him a question and I’m waiting for a reply.” He looked down at DeVante. “Now, do you want to know something, DeVante?”

  On the ground, with blood trickling from a gash in his cheek, DeVante said, “What, Marcus?” His head was spinning from the blow, and he had a feeling his jaw was cracked, but he refused to show how much pain he was in. He lifted himself from the ground to the bed again. “What do I want to know?”

  Marcus smiled at DeVante’s defiance. “I owe you a thank-you. Thanks to you, DeVante, I’ve come to realize that I am more of a man than I ever thought I was. I’m stronger, more determined, more confident in myself and my abilities. There is nothing that I can’t handle. All of this I owe to you. But that’s not all. You see, not only do I have you to thank for my personal growth, but I have to thank you for my financial growth, as well. Because after tonight, I will be one hundred and eighty million dollars richer than I was before. Now give me the ticket.”

  18

  I kept my gaze locked on Marcus despite the light-headedness I felt. My jaw throbbed and the pain was getting more and more intense with each passing second. I could feel the blood running down my cheek. I wanted to wipe it away, but I didn’t want Marcus to see that anything was affecting me. He wanted the ticket. He wanted all of the money. The pull of the money had thrown him over the edge, and I knew that he had every intention of killing all of us if he had to. I took a slow, deep breath, and very slowly opened my mouth to speak.

  “You’re not getting this ticket, Marcus,” I struggled to say. “You’re not getting shit.”

  I had no idea what his next move would be, or mine for that matter, but I meant what I said. I wasn’t giving him a thing. Not the ticket, not the money, not my life or Joe’s and Lisa’s. I had enough blood on my hands. The only other blood that was going to be spilled would have to be Marcus’s. I just had no idea how that was going to happen.

  Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “Your call.” With nothing but a smile, he raised the gun and fired a shot, hitting Joe. Lisa screamed. I turned and looked at Joe, who was bleeding from his abdomen.

  Shit!

  What the hell was I going to do?

  Marcus looked at Joe and then at me. “He’s not dead, but he can be. Give me the ticket.”

  “Why are you asking?” I said, desperately trying to come up with a plan. “Aren’t you going to kill us all anyway? Why don’t you do it and then take the ticket.”

  “I’m not going to kill you, DeVante. I want you to live with what you’ve caused. Now give me the goddamned ticket or else Joe’s finished. And then I’ll take care of Lisa.”

  I looked at Joe. He watched me with confused eyes, wondering what the hell I was doing. The blood continued to soak his shirt. I had no idea how bad he was hit or how long he had, but it looked bad. He needed an ambulance. By the sounds coming from the hallway, I had no doubt that the paramedics and a lot of other company that wasn’t invited to the party would show up. I glanced at Lisa, who cowered on the bed against the headboard. Marcus was going to shoot Joe and then Lisa. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Before he could make his next move, I lurched forward and threw my shoulder into him, sending him to the ground. The .45 still remained clamped in his hand. I jumped on top of him before he could compose himself and grabbed his wrist. I slammed his hand against the floor repeatedly until he let go of the gun. Marcus kneed me in my stomach, but despite the pain and the urge to throw up, I slammed my elbow into his face. He threw a blow to the back of my head and I returned in kind with several blows to his chest and temple. We wrestled on the ground, each of us struggling to reach the gun, which lay near the door.

  Lisa continued to scream, making the situation that much more confusing. I grabbed Marcus by his ears and banged his head repeatedly on the hard carpeting. Though he was fading, Marcus still had a lot of fight in him, and hit me on my nose. By the blood and the pain, I had no doubt that it was broken. With blood running down my face and trickling onto his, I continued with my assault until he was no longer moving. He was still breathing. I slowly rose from on top of him and labored over to the gun and picked it up. Lisa thankfully had quit her screaming, and was now sobbing. I looked from her to Joe. His skin was getting pale. I went to him and lifted his shirt. I was no doctor, but I knew that by the time the paramedics arrived, he would be well on his way to a better place.

  “Joe,” I said softly. My abdomen hurt from the knee I’d taken. “Joe, Lisa and I have to get out of here.” I stared into Joe’s eyes. He held my gaze and nodded.

  “What do you mean we have to leave?” Lisa asked. “We can’t just leave.”

  I looked at her. “Lisa, we have to go.”

  “How can you say that? We can’t leave Joe here like this. We have to explain this to the police.”

  “Lisa, Joe is dying. And we aren’t explaining shit to the cops. Once we mention everything that went down and why it went down, we will never see the ticket or the money. You know how these cops work. I’m an ex-drug addict with a record. You’re no criminal, but we’re both black. You really think they’ll be sympathetic to our story, and when all is said and done, give us back our ticket and let us go on our merry way?”

  “He…he’s right,” Joe suddenly said weakly. I turned and looked at him. Blood was bubbling from his mouth as he struggled to speak. “G-get out…out of here…now!”

  I turned to Lisa. Tears flooded from her eyes. I put out my hand and nodded. Reluctantly, she took my hand and together we stood up. Before leaving, I gave Joe another long look. “I’ll take care of your family. Your share is still your share.”

  Joe nodded.

  “I’ll see you on the flip side.”

  He nodded again and then closed his eyes.

  Lisa and I left the room and managed to disappear before the cops and medics came. No one attempted to stop us as we left, which no doubt had to do with the .45 I was carrying in my hand. I had two regrets about what went down back in that hotel room. One, that I let Joe get shot. And two, that I didn’t shoot Marcus when I had the chance.

  19

  Lisa and I passed the cops and the paramedics as they were on their way to the hotel. I was driving and made sure to keep my speed to five miles above the limit, which was not too fast and not too slow. I wasn’t in the best of shape, but I’d been worse before. Most of the pain I felt was in my nose, which was swollen. Blood was still flowing from it, and I knew I would have to get medical attention eventually. But I’d do that after Lisa and I cashed in on the ticket. After the disaster at the hotel, I knew it wouldn’t take long for the cops to be looking for me. Once they ID’d Joe, and called Shantal, there was little doubt that my name would come up as suspect number one or two.

  That, of course, depended on whether or not they found Marcus there, which I had a bad feeling they wouldn’t. I should have shot him. I had wanted to. I was just so preoccupied with wanting to check on Joe, that by the time we said our goodbyes, there was no time to stop and shoot. All I could hope was that by some miracle he died after we left. If not, one of two things would happen: Either the cops would nab and question him until his face turned blue, after which he would say that I shot Joe, beat him, and took their ticket. Or he’d come to and managed to escape before anyone got there, and I’d see him again. I was hoping it would be the second option. I figured my chances were better that way. If the cops questioned him, there was no way Lisa or I would be able to cash the ticket.

  Marcus had been right. What a day it had been, indeed. I went from being a down-on-his-luck, drunk ex-drug addict with no money, no car, and no real future in sight, to being a rich motherfucker who’d no doubt be wanted for questioning in one, possibly
two murders. If someone had told me being rich was going to be this much fun, I might have decided to stay broke.

  I stole a quick glance at Lisa. She’d barely said a word since we left the hotel. I know leaving Joe behind was a hard thing to do, but what I told her was the truth. If we were questioned, the ticket and all of our hopes and dreams would have been taken away. Joe knew it, too. After everything that went down, I’m glad I had convinced her to pay with cash and use a fake name for the room. About the only way her name could tie in to anything was if Marcus spoke to the police. As crazy as Marcus had become, I had a feeling that he’d come after the ticket himself instead of risking losing it to anyone else. I wanted to say something to Lisa, to help ease her mind. I hated her being in tears.

  Damn.

  Why did I ever have to try and keep that money in the first place?

  Why couldn’t I have just split the winnings six ways like we were supposed to? Now, just as Marcus had said, I had the blood of four people on my hands. No one would have died had I done the right thing. But it was almost as though the money were calling me. Whispering, talking, screaming, shouting—demanding that I claim it as mine. All mine. I was a murderer without actually committing an act.

  I put my attention back on the road. If my instincts were correct, Marcus had gotten away before the police came and he would be chasing after us. We had a half tank of gas. It would take about forty-five minutes to reach the lottery center. I tightened my hand around the steering wheel, guiding the car down the empty streets that were slowly being illuminated by the coming dawn. After claiming our prize, I planned on taking us to the nearest airport. I’d already figured the best thing for us to do was catch a plane out of the country. Maybe go to the Caribbean somewhere, where we wouldn’t have to deal with cops, questions, or stress. Now all I had to do was convince Lisa of the move.