“Looks like we did actually get a name back on that driver. Had to use dental records due to burning, but he was a 22-year-old, black man. The match belonged to a Phillipe L’Hueruex.”
Something in his words, in his name, sends a pang piercing my heart.
“Do you remember something?”
He must have noticed the blood drain from my face.
I quickly shake my head. “No, um, so the young man, he died?”
“Yeah, looks like it was quick. Died before the explosion. He had enough alcohol and drugs in his system to take down a tribe of elephants. Like I said, it could have been a whole lot worse. Looks like the family was just notified today.”
His words strangle my windpipe.
I can’t help but agree with my gut. It just got a whole lot worse for a certain family.
*
I beat on the door.
Her door.
I’m such a fucking douche for walking out on her.
“Jade! Jade, open up.” Pressing my forehead against the hard, wooden frame, I search my broken brain for any sign of a memory. I don’t know where it comes from, but I holler out.
“Baby! Open the fucking door!” I can’t stop agonizing over her pain. I know she’s lost someone important to her, but it’s not making any sense.
It can’t be just a coincidence.
I think about where else she might go. Where to find her, to be there to console her. The man who caused my accident is dead and I can’t explain it, but I’d rather it be me.
I go back to the office hoping to hear from her. My insides are buzzing with anticipation. I ignore the questioning side glances. I don’t see Wendy at her desk, so I rush into my office.
The irritation in my chest is snowballing. I ring the reception desk, noting that I need to hire an assistant. Noting, but not exactly caring.
“Yes, Mr. Gauthier?”
“Has Ms. Belhomme signed in today?” I bounce my knee waiting while she checks.
“No, Sir.”
“Ok, let me know as soon as you see or hear from her.”
I hang up as she talks. I can’t stand to listen to her overtly chipper voice. It seems to be the new version of ‘fuck me eyes’. And it does nothing for me.
My cell vibrates and my heartbeat skyrockets. Only, it’s not her. It’s Drew Kenner and the text message is a single photo attachment.
The same big guy with the slicked back ponytail stands with two other suits and a tall, fat slob. They look to be standing by water. Containers. Maybe a shipping dock.
I bang my head against the padded office chair.
I’m more fucked up every day, losing more thoughts and memories. I have nothing. Nothing to hold onto, to grasp. I’m further away today from finding myself then I left the goddamn hospital.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Baby Jade
Ma’Linn shuffles her heavy feet. She’s hunched over with her chin practically dragging behind her.
She’s aged a hundred years…
Truth be told, I don’t know how she’s even breathing right now. Leaving Phillipe behind in the cold, metal clad room was too much for me, much less his tortured momma.
She’s lost so much, too much. No one can recover from this much pain.
She’s lost more than any one person should ever have to endure. Her husband. Her home. The life she’d once had with her best friend, my momma. And now, her only child. Her son. Her baby boy.
An engorged raindrop splats, spilling down my shoulder as I work to unlock the front door and guide her inside, not that she knows the difference. The faint trace of cinnamon from this morning’s coffee tickles my nose, reminding me to make sure my friend gets something in her belly. I get her tucked in bed before the sudden downpour pounds at the new roof.
Ma’Linn sobs as her big bones heave under the heavy weight of her sadness. I cover her with her favorite patch quilt, light a candle, and turn off the lights.
My heart is with my friend – my second, sometimes first momma. But my thoughts are stuck on repeat, spinning out of control with the words. I hear them over and over again.
Phillipe was killed in the same accident that sent Lucky to the hospital. It can’t be a coincidence. This was a blatant attack on Lucky. A hit gone bad. But why?
I drop to the kitchen chair and place my head in my hands, denying how I’m exhausted enough to sleep on Bourbon during Carnival. There’s no time to be tired. Someone has to start making arrangements and I refuse to put even more on Ma’Linn’s sagging shoulders.
I grab a notepad and start a to-do list. And then I start a people to call list, jotting down names and wishing that it wasn’t so short. I need to get to the grocery store since our kitchen looks like a hurricane shelter with canned goods and a single bag of flour.
I begin a food list, but I don’t remember when I must have zoned out. The next thing I know I’m peeling my face from the paper. Apparently, my surprising amount of my sleep induced coma drool acted as a glue. I instantly connect with the vibrations rippling through my tired but curious body.
I maneuver through the house, shocked to find Ma’Linn standing at the front door. The screen’s still shut and both hands are at her gaping mouth.
“Hey, I slip one arm around hers and pull myself to her side. I’m not prepared for the way she slowly pivots her head and the tears that are flooding down her chubby cheeks.
“What is it? Is someone out there?”
She curls her heaving mouth up, as if she were pulling the smile straight from her broken heart.
My own heart stalls, freezing in my deflated chest cavity, scared to see who’s outside. If I hadn’t seen Phillipe’s dead body for myself, I’d think it was him. I couldn’t imagine anyone else making Ma’Linn smile at such a horrible time.
Her eyes widen when she wrestles with the door, trying to get outside.
I step behind her, wrapping my arms around her broad shoulders. I’m in awe and dumbfounded, but mostly the awe part.
Ma’Linn is smiling.
I glance around and a vice squeezes my heart, gripping the overwhelming emotion. The street is flooded with people in elaborate costumes, dancing. Some hoist umbrellas high in the air, pumping them to the beat of the horns blaring throughout the crowd. Other allow the rain to wash and cleanse their human souls. Bright colors illuminate the stormy sky. Feathers, shawls, and boas have been brought out for the special event.
The ‘Fancy Duds’.
A Second Line.
Only in the City will a full, Frankenstein, pieced together marching band fall from the sky, right into a grieving mother’s lap.
I don’t even have to put thought into figuring out how all of these amazing folks from the old neighborhood found out about Phillipe’s death. No, not when my gaze lands on him.
His dimples and dark, heavy beard greet me and I’m instantly entranced by him and his dazzling lop-sided grin.
Lucky.
That is one fucking, sexy man.
Ma’Linn sits in a patio chair, gazing at the bitter sweet view created just for her… out of the pain from losing her child.
The biggest, most hollow, yet consuming pain she will ever feel in her life.
And she’s smiling.
The rain parts and the steaming asphalt awakens my senses.
I’m lost in him and his huge heart.
*
“Baby, please.”
I bolt up from the bed. Dressed and ready just in case because I was half expecting Willow to call tonight.
“Willow, I’m here! Where are you?” I speak louder.
“Baby, I can’t do this. No mas. Por favor, Baby. I want to die.” Her voice goes dead. Buzzing quakes in my ear like waves of distant echoes.
“Goddammit!” I shout and then throw my hands up, clasping them over my loud mouth. I crack open Ma’Linn’s bedroom door, relieved to find her sound asleep. The half-pint of Jim Beam Lucky gave her worked like one of her own magical charms.
I leave a note on th
e kitchen counter. I went to find Willow. Don’t worry and I’ll call Drew for back up. There are bagels for breakfast. Should be back by noon. Love, me.
It takes an extra ten minutes for the Uber to make it to the club. Being after midnight, Bottom’s Up is packed. I try to get a lost in the crowd before the heavy door slams shut behind me.
My heart pounds through my shirt. My skin flushes with heat. I want to turn around and run, but not more than I want to find that young girl and put an end to the disgusting torture she’s suffering.
I don’t need proof to know Slade’s at the center.
I duck through the sea of people, keeping my chin pointed at the floor with my gaze searching. Searching for Mickey, or Velvet. Anyone to lead me to the missing girl.
I don’t recognize anyone. The turnover rate seems to be in full effect. Finally, Jewella pops out from the hallway.
“Where is he?” I rush her as she leans up to the end of the bar., ready for a fight. I refuse to lose this girl like Lolli.
“Who?” She scans the room before lowering her voice. “Baby, you shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m not leaving. Not without Willow or how to find her.”
The woman pivots her scrawny neck. “You need to go, seriously.”
I decide in that moment that I no longer care about the consequences. “Fuck them, hard. I shoulder past her and storm down the dim hall, where I run smack into the same massive boulder in a suit I saw last time.
“Let me in,” I try to demand.
He just shakes his head.
“Let me in, now!” I holler and hear a ruckus coming from inside Mickey’s office. I know what I have to do. I start yelling.
“Micky, you fat son-of-a-bitch. Get your ass out here!”
The man steps toward me.
“Mickey, you coward. Where is she?” That must have been the magic phrase because the man lunges for me, but I dodge his grasp.
“You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not,” I scream through the closed door. “Until that fat coward faces me.”
I knew that would do it. I hear shuffling before he pops his thick, round head out. “This is NOT the time.”
I crane my head and spot Slade and another suit sitting at the desk.
“Who is it?” The man asks.
“No one, a dancer. She’s just leaving.”
“Come on, man. Don’t be stingy. Send her in. Let’s have a look see.”
Mickey speaks over his shoulder. “Not this one. She ain’t worth it.”
“Send her in.” The voice loses any charm, or humanity.
Mickey shakes his head, almost as if he feels sorry for me and steps out of the way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lucky
Drew stands in front of my desk. “Well, when was the last time you talked to her?”
“Not long enough ago for her to fucking disappear.”
“Can you just answer the question?”
I break my gaze not knowing how he’ll take the answer. “I was with her last night.”
To Drew’s credit, he plows forward. “Well, how was she? What time was it?”
I fill him in on Phillipe and the second line from the Seventh Ward. “I left a little before midnight I think.”
“Ok, I’ll talk to Ma’Linn and see if she knows anything.”
I lean back in my chair with my mind racked with guilt for leaving her alone last night, or any night. “I think it’s better if I talk to her. She’s gonna be pretty raw after Phillipe.”
Drew shakes his head. “Oh yeah, cool. Just let me know what you find out. I’ll talk to her assistant, Wendy. Unless that’s something you wanna do too?”
I’m pissed that I chuckle. “No, you’re good. She’s the third desk on the right. And you’ll keep me updated as well?”
He nods, and I hope for his sake he’s being truthful.
*
I leave Ma’Linn rocking on the front porch. I don’t know if she really took in the information that Jade might be missing. She rocked in the sun, calling it today’s medicine. Once she showed me Jade’s note, I immediately felt ill with all the blood draining straight to my toes.
She went to that fucking club.
Baby Jade.
I park the obnoxious Jaguar in the only spot I can find in the back alley. Not that I give a rat’s ass about the car.
Once inside the strip club, I scan the group. I don’t recognize anyone, but that doesn’t come as a surprise. However, some faces seem more familiar than others.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t see her.
Something about the woman at the bar jumps out at me. My brain tells me to stay away, but my gut screams at me to talk to her.
“Hey, excuse me?”
She glances over and her blue, caked on makeup is something straight from an 80’s porn set.
“Well, if it ain’t Mr. Tattoo himself.”
It takes me a beat to make sure she’s talking about me. “Oh, yeah, I guess. Do you know or seen Jade Belhomme?”
She flicks the long ash off her cigarette, right into the floor. “Damn, you’re fucking weird. Yeah, Baby was here.”
I seize the woman by her pointy shoulders, shaking her until she yelps, causing me to drop my hands.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Did she say where she was going?”
The woman looks as if she has something secret to share as she darts her gaze around the packed room. She’s cut off before she even starts because some blow hard enters from the hallway with a Hispanic woman.
“Velvet, get this one set up.”
Jewella jumps to her feet. “You need to leave, NOW.”
I don’t know why, but I heed her warning. I turn toward the back for a quicker escape.
“No! Out the front!” She demands.
I rush out the door, making a mental note to find out who the woman is and send Drew in as back up. She knows something. I skirt the building through the back alley as I head to the back lot and that’s when I see it.
A cargo van is parked directly behind the back entrance to the club. No, not parked. Idling. The engine is running, and a man sits in the driver’s seat and the cargo door is wide open. I dip behind the dumpster to conceal myself while I get a better view. Within seconds the basement door flies open and a large man guides a blindfolded girl into the van before they leave. I run to my car and follow, but not close enough to be made.
The white van drives the speed limit, not a mile over as they make their way across town. I take special care not to get caught tailing them.
I’m disgusted to say I can’t even bring myself to be worried about the girl, or any other girls. It’s all about Jade right now. My insides are in painful knots. Something’s not right and I know in my gut that she’s in danger.
I follow as the van makes a right down another dark alley, parking in front of the back door. Just like at Bottom’s Up, except this is a twenty-four-hour dry cleaner. This girl looks a lot like the last one. We do this two more times. The final stop is at an old Voodoo shop. Judging by the jars of funk in the window sill, it’s the real deal. As authentic as you can get in these parts.
This girl doesn’t go as easily. She’s bucking and dragging her legs. The man finally relents and picks up her stiff body as she tries to fight him off.
I cringe and nearly abort my mission when he head butts the young girl. I don’t though. I can I remember what’s at stake. Who’s at stake.
Jade.
The van appears to be heading out of town, straight toward the Gulf. They park down by the docks. I have no choice but to park a half mile back. So, I run on foot to get a better look at what’s going on.
I spot a white boat idling off shore, out a ways. A small John boat is at the bottom of the landing. The same man gets out of the van and takes the four girls to meet the two men on the small boat. Obviously, with the intention of taking them out to the mini yacht. I promise myself I won’t get involved unle
ss I see Jade. I can go to the cops and keep my nose clean.
Better yet, I can remain alive. But for her, I’ll risk everything.
My heart pounds. Blood races. But when they pull away, my lungs deflate as I lost hope. I watch from between a row of rusted old shipping containers when I see the van slow to a crawl. They look as if they’re searching for a specific cargo box. The van finally stops, and the man gets out and pounds on the outside. My stomach is whipping and snapping like Medusa’s head of snakes when he unlocks the back and opens the door.
A string of young girls stumble toward the van. The man slaps each one on the ass, or head as they get in. The van leaves and that’s when I lost it.
My eyes flood with hot, angry tears thinking about what Jade must be going through. And had I remembered to eat, I have no doubt it would now be splattered all over the pavement. I race back to the Jag, but never manage to catch up with them.
They disappear, vanishing into thin air just like Jade.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Baby Jade
The thumping. The rush of the cold hitting my hot veins. I can’t seem to pry open my eyes. My right arm throbs at the center. The same stinging sensation I prayed to forget.
The drug courses through my blood. My stomach pitches and I vaguely notice when I vomit right beside my own head because I can’t lift it up from the… floor I guess.
I swallow back the angry bile and know without a doubt that I’m stoned out of my gourd. More bile bobs, but this time it gets stuck. I force my body to roll to one side and try to spit, but my throat is too dry, leaving me choking on the ball.
“Aqui. Drink.”
I try to shake away the girl who’s now at my side. I jump and throw up an elbow.
“No, agua, drink.” She pushes the cup closer to my face.
The ball is snuffing out my airway, so I give in to the girl. The water tastes surprisingly crisp. The cleanliness leaves me puzzled, especially since the glass is one level above a public toilet. At least it helps. I take a few small sips and finally manage to swallow down the gob of vomit.
Queen of NOLA : Jaded Series, Book Three Page 12