Southern Harm

by Travis Casey

  They sat in the middle of the road while Oscar massaged his throbbing finger. "You knew I was struggling to raise the bail money. Why didn't you have one of your goons get it?"

  "I wanted to check your loyalty—and resourcefulness. I'm surprised you had to use your own cash. I thought you would have had the governor spring me, seeing how you two are buddies." He flashed a sardonic grin. "Or did you screw things up by giving him a bum tip on Blue Lighting?" He let a belly laugh rip.

  "Ha ha. You're the one who screwed it up. And if you keep screwing up my tips, Governor Davenport will get pissed off, and we'll both be out of a friend in high places. You want me, and I need him, so that puts you squarely in his pocket right along with me."

  Although he was still worried about catching the consequences from another one of Louie's physical outbursts, he dropped the truck in gear and resumed driving.

  "Oh, come now, Oscar. As long as you're sticking it to the assistant district attorney, we're both home and dry." A satisfying smirk crossed his lips as he turned to stare out the window. "Just don't piss her off, and we'll be fine."

  "Might be too late for that," Oscar mumbled.

  ***

  The message light blinked on his answerphone. It was probably Roscoe. He hated calling cell phones. Oscar was surprised at how quickly he realized he couldn't check messages on his answerphone with Louie in the room. "Your room's down the hall to the right, and the bathroom is next door. Why don't you go get freshened up?"

  Louie walked down the hall. Once he was out of sight, Oscar hit the play button on the answering machine.

  "Oscar, it's Stacey Davenport. Your cell must be on the blink again. Anyway, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'd like to know why the hell you're bailing Louie Gomez out of jail. And then you called my dad? I soon put the whammy on that. I told you, I'm trying to clean up this state, and then you go dating its criminal mastermind. You lied to me. And let me tell you something else … if you want to rot in hell, that's your business, but you keep my dad out of your dirty dealings. And just in case you're really thick, let me spell it out for you. Anything you may have thought might be happening between us ain't happening anymore. We're finished. Got it?"

  The call ended with Stacey's anger lingering on the dead line.

  "Sounds as though you've got some making up to do with your girlfriend." Louie stood at the edge of the living room with a toothpick dangling from the edge of his mouth. "We don't want her on our bad side, now do we?"

  Oscar's shoulders drooped. That's all he needed—Louie knowing his personal life. "Bug off, Louie." Oscar wanted to straighten things out with Stacey. Not for personal gain or business reasons, but because he liked her—and he hated the fact that he was dishonest with her. He didn't see himself as an outright liar. He was more of a failure to disclose kind of sinner.

  Louie went to the liquor cabinet and helped himself to the bourbon.

  "Oh yeah, make yourself at home, Louie."

  "Why thank you, Oscar, that's very kind of you." He poured himself a mega-slug. "Don't mind if I do. That reminds me." He pulled out his smartphone. "I better call Pablo and ask him to bring me over a suitcase of clothes. Looks like I might be staying with you for a while."

  Oscar boiled at the level of comfort Louie had already established, but he tried to put that to aside and decided to call Stacey. He sat on the couch, picked up the phone off the cradle, and punched number eight on the speed dial.

  "Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Stacey Davenport. I'm not able to take your call right now, but if you'd like to leave a message …"

  Oscar hit the end-call button. Message groveling wouldn't do the trick. He redialed the mansion.

  "Hi, Conrad, it's Oscar Novak-Chambers. Is Stacey there?"

  "Miss Davenport is dining with her father."

  He looked at his watch. Six o'clock. Oscar decided he wouldn't be able to maximize his charm, or leverage his blue eyes, through a phone call. "Does she plan on going out tonight, do you know?"

  "Not to my knowledge, sir."

  "Good. Tell her to sit tight. I'll be there in an hour."

  Oscar hung up and bolted off the couch, snatching the keys for the truck off the key holder and heading for the front door.

  "Going somewhere?" Louie stood by the breakfast bar, holding his glass of bourbon.

  "Yeah, Frankfort. Don't worry, I'll be home in time to tuck you in."

  "Haven't you forgotten something?"

  Oscar patted his pockets. Cash, keys, wallet. "Nope."

  "Didn't the judge place me under your twenty-four-hour care?"

  "Well, the judge can get bent." Oscar wagged his finger at him. "Just stay here and don't drink all my booze."

  "And you're happy to explain to Miss Davenport why you're at her place of residence, alone?"

  "That's the best way to make up—alone."

  "Of course … but I'm sure she'll be interested to know why you left a mafia kingpin home alone while you went racing off to the capital to rectify your little pussy crisis." He took a sip of his drink.

  Oscar stopped for a moment. He hadn't thought of that, but—"Why the hell do you care?"

  "Because, my dear Oscar, if you break the obligation of your guardianship where my bail is concerned, she will lock you up. Out of spite if for nothing else. And if you go down, I'll go back inside, because you failed to live up to your court-ordered responsibilities. So it's in my best interest to keep you out of jail, thus keeping myself out of the same establishment."

  It was a valid point and one he couldn't think of a way around.

  Louie downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. "But you're right. We need to sort this mess out." He placed the glass on the counter. "Shall we proceed to the governor's mansion?"

  Chapter 25

  The security guard gave Oscar a nod of acknowledgement as he pulled up to the gate. "Back again?"

  "Yeah. Brett, isn't it? "

  "That's right."

  "I need to update the governor on a few projects."

  The guard nodded toward Louie. "Who's this?"

  "Oh, one of my consultants." Oscar held his hand out to Louie. "He needs to see some ID."

  Louie handed over his license, and Brett jotted down the details, then opened the gate. "Enjoy your visit. I hope it's productive."

  "Thanks."

  Oscar parked, then pulled down the visor, giving himself the once-over in the vanity mirror. Satisfied with his appearance, he slapped the visor back up and turned to Louie. "You stay here, I'll be back in a few minutes. Maybe ten—make it a half hour."

  "If you don't mind, it is us fine folks of Kentucky who own this shack. I'd like to see it." Louie grabbed the handle to open the door.

  "Let me sort this out. I need to talk to Stacey in private. Besides, if the governor's there, he doesn't like uninvited guests or people he doesn't know barging in. He's funny like that."

  "Then we should have stayed home with a cup of hot chocolate." He opened the door. "I'm going in."

  Oscar grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the Escalade.

  Louie looked at Oscar's hand holding his arm. "Are you sure you want to do that? Johnny lost the finger that threatened me. You have your whole hand on me."

  Oscar jerked his hand away. "If you insist on charging in, there's something I need to tell you. If it does come up, I told Stacey I sprung you from jail because you're a financial backer for a kid's program I'm starting at the polo ground. But I'd prefer it if you didn't talk to anyone and just ogled the statue in the corner until I get done talking to Stacey. Okay?"

  "Really?" Louie settled into the seat of the truck, angled toward Oscar. "How fascinating. I didn't realize you were into helping the youth of today. And even more surprised that I share that vision. Tell me more."

  "How the hell did you expect me to get a chunk of a state park? Wave a magic wand? I needed a plausible reason for such a ridiculous request. I tried it out on Stacey, and she's buying into it.
Together we're pitching it to the governor. I need the extra land to develop programs to help the underprivileged kids of Kentucky."

  "How ingenious. And I'm a part of it." Louie wiped a mock tear from the corner of his eye. "I think I'm going to cry."

  "Good. I hope you're choked up. So choked up you can't speak. Now let's go."

  After Oscar rang the doorbell, Conrad opened the large wooden door. "Good evening, Mr. Novak—"

  Oscar held his hand up, cutting him off.

  "Of course. Good evening, Oscar. I believe Miss Davenport is in her room. I'll tell her you're here." He motioned his head toward Louie. "And should I announce your companion?"

  "No, you shouldn't." Oscar turned to Louie. "Now that you've seen 'the shack,' go wait in the truck."

  "Naw, I think I'll like it here just fine." He looked at Conrad. "Bring me a scotch, will you, my good man?"

  The balding butler cast an inquisitive eyebrow toward Oscar.

  Oscar nodded. "If you would, please, and perhaps take Mr. Gomez to the parlor until I'm ready to leave."

  "Very good, sir." He gave a half-bow to Oscar and offered instruction to Louie. "If you'd like to follow me."

  No sooner did they vanish from sight, Stacey appeared. "I saw your truck parked out back. Well?" She stood with her arms folded, her petite body swimming in an oversized Cincinnati Bengals football jersey that hung down to her thighs, leaving it to Oscar's imagination as to what was underneath—or not. Fluorescent-orange Puma sneakers completed her casual look.

  He stared at the bottom edge of her shirt, wondering … he stopped his thoughts. She was already mad at him, and she didn't even know about Louie Gomez in the parlor drinking her dad's scotch yet. "I can explain. It's all a huge misunderstanding—"

  Her manicured eyebrows drew in tight. "Did my dad misunderstand you, or did you actually ask him to pardon Louie Gomez?"

  "Well, not really a pardon, but—" A new plan hit him. He needed to shift the blame onto her. "What the hell was that all about? You lumbering me with Louie Gomez? I'm not a babysitter."

  "Offering to post bail—I'd say that was pretty chummy, wouldn't you? So I figured you wanted to spend some time with him." She put her hand to her chest and feigned shock. "You don't mean to tell me you don't want to spend your every waking hour with Louie Freaking Gomez, do you?"

  "I'd rather spend my time with you."

  "Well, that ain't gonna happen." Her face turned bitter. "By the way, where is he, babysitter?"

  "I got it under control."

  "You know if you handcuffed him to a towel rail in your condo, that could be considered false imprisonment, and I could get you five to ten years for that."

  "I didn't false imprison him."

  "Where is he?" she shouted. She marched over and jammed her finger into his chest. "That's it, Oscar. If you violated the terms of his bail, you're both going down."

  "Take it easy, sweetheart." Louie stood at the end of the hall, scotch in hand and a smirk on his face. "Oscar may not be very bright, but he hasn't violated anything." He opened his arms wide. "As you can see, I'm right here, under his watchful eye."

  Stacey's nostrils flared. Her speech was slow and quiet, and for Oscar's ears only. "What's that son of a bitch doing in my house?"

  Hoping for a truce, he straightened his shoulders and inched closer. "I couldn't leave him, and I needed to talk to you. Can we go somewhere private?" he whispered.

  Without speaking, she turned and walked toward her office. Oscar followed her unspoken invitation.

  "Keep her sweet, Oscar," Louie yelled, his laugh echoing in the hall.

  Stacey wheeled around and charged toward him. She grabbed a lamp off the table, jerking the cord so hard that it came unplugged from the socket, then continued her beeline for Louie with the lamp over her head.

  "Stacey!" Oscar shouted, chasing after her.

  Conrad jumped in front of Louie, his arms overhead, blocking Stacey's path to smash Gomez's head. "Miss Davenport, I don't think that would be wise" the butler calmly stated.

  She looked at the lamp. "No, probably not. This is antique." She handed the lamp to Conrad.

  Stacey matched Louie, eye to eye. "This is my house and I don't want you here." Her arm sprung out, pointing toward the front door. "Now get out."

  Louie grinned. "As a taxpayer, I believe this is my house. You are merely a tenant."

  "Mr. Gomez, as a tenant in this house, I can leave anytime I like. Your next tenancy, however, will be in the big house, and I intend to give you a very long, unbreakable lease."

  Oscar grabbed Stacey by the arm and jerked her away from Louie. "He gets the picture. C'mon, let's talk. Just give me five minutes." He pulled her toward the door.

  She pointed at Louie while looking to the butler. "Keep an eye on him. If he moves, shoot him."

  Oscar rustled Stacey into her office and closed the door. "You really shouldn't have taunted him."

  "And you shouldn't have freaking brought him here. In fact, you shouldn't have brought yourself here." She stomped her foot and pointed to the door. "Go on, get out."

  He ignored her instruction. "Stacey, I had to bring him. You made me, remember." He looked down to the hem of her shirt. She had to be wearing panties, right?

  "He's going to get you in big trouble—if you're not there already. Why don't you listen to me?"

  "Stacey, it's not that straightforward."

  "Yes, it is." She extended her arm, vaguely pointing in Louie's direction. "Go in there right now, grab your little buddy, and get out. The both of you. And when you finish fulfilling your court-ordered obligation and get him to his trial, you'll thank me for putting him away—provided I don't wind up putting you away with him."

  Oscar shook his head. "No, you can't do this."

  "What does that mean, 'No, I can't do this?'"

  "Just that. There's too much at stake. You have to trust me—"

  "Are you serious? Are you telling me to get stuffed?"

  He reached out and stroked her arm. "I'm in a difficult position here, Stacey. Let me try and make Gomez do some good in the world, but to do that, I need to stay on his sweet side. Let's get the land for the kid's park and let Louie get some credit, and if he goes down after that, I really don't care. But right now, me, the kids, and Johnny need his help. Don't be mad at me. I need your help too."

  "You need my help alright."

  "I would never ask you to compromise your integrity. Just let me get Louie's money before you put him away."

  "So your plan is to make him help to make him suffer?"

  "Yes, but the land for the kids is the top priority."

  "And just so I have this straight, now you want to keep him out of jail?"

  "For now, yes."

  She stood staring at him. "You know what? That may not be a bad idea. Maybe you can help me. That dipshit of a police officer, Dewsbury, probably blew this whole case. I need new evidence. Concrete evidence. If I agree to back off for now, will you help me get what I need to lock him up for a long time?"

  "What? Double-cross Louie Gomez?"

  "I'm a DA, Oscar. I make deals. And here's the deal. Either your plan works brilliantly, and I'm so impressed with Saint Louie that I nominate him for Pope, or you get me the proof I need to put him in Lucifer's waiting room. In the meantime, you get the money you so desperately need, and Johnny gets whatever it is he needs to keep from shitting himself."

  "You drive a hard bargain."

  Her stare dared him to refuse. "So?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  She stepped in and ran her fingers up and down the row of buttons on his shirt. "No, and you really don't want to mess with me."

  He couldn't ignore her lavender fragrance. He preferred her scent of elegance over her pent of anger. "Excuse me, Miss District Attorney, that's exactly what I want to do with you." Reaching down, he touched the hem of her shirt, building up the courage to feel underneath.

  "Are you always hard to stay mad at?"


  "Impossible."

  Their faces inched closer until nothing separated their lips except static electricity—and that was high voltage.

  Knocking at the door sent a thesaurus of cursing through Oscar's head.

  "Stacey, darling? Are you okay?" The door opened.

  Their hands shot to their sides and they faced the door as Governor Davenport walked in.

  "Hello, Oscar." The governor approached with his arm extended.

  They shook hands as Oscar returned the greeting. "Hello, Governor."

  "Conrad told me you were in here." He pushed up his glasses and looked at Oscar. "Did you get your problem sorted out?"

  "Yes, sir, I did."

  Stacey clasped her hands behind her back. "In fact, Dad, he brought his problem here. Would you like to see?"

  "Here? Really?"

  Oscar whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "I thought we were supposed to be making up."

  "That'll teach you to tell me 'no,' " she whispered back. "C'mon." She waved her hand for the two men to follow her as she crossed the room.

  Louie sat sunken into the low-back, cube-shaped chair with another scotch in his hand. He stood as they walked in, setting his glass on the table next to his chair and fastening up the front of his suit jacket, pulling it straight.

  Stacey opened her hand to Louie. "Dad, this is Louie Gomez." She opened her other palm to her dad. "Gomez, this is the executioner for the state of Kentucky."

  Davenport shot his daughter a sharp look. "Stacey, behave yourself." He extended his hand to Louie. "Mr. Gomez, I've heard a lot about you."

  Louie took his hand and shook. "Governor, the pleasure is all mine. I wasn't sure how you'd take to uninvited guests or people you didn't know coming into your home, so thank you for your kind welcome."

  "Nonsense. I'm always happy to meet the people of Kentucky and welcome them into my home—your home. After all, it's your votes and tax dollars that put me here."