The Mike Black Saga Volume 3

by Roy Glenn

  After that, Tamia rolled over and curled into the fetal position. She thought about how good her insides felt, and her body began to tremble again at the thought of how hard she came and how many times. Tamia lay there holding herself tightly when she realized something. Something she hadn’t expected.

  Tamia rolled over slowly and Freeze was still lying there. Usually after finishing her off, he’d leave her shaking on the bed and head for the shower. She started to ask what he was doing, but she was afraid that he might move, and she didn’t want him to move. So she just looked at him, lying there with his eyes closed and his hands behind his head.

  After a while, Tamia moved a little closer to Freeze and he opened his eyes. Tamia put her hand on his chest, waiting for him to move it and get out of bed as he had done many times before. When he didn’t move it, Tamia cuddled up under his arm. She felt chill bumps all over her body when he put his arm around her.

  “So what’s the word, Sergeant Adams? I know you got something for me.”

  “I see what you got for me,” Tamia said and took him into her hand. “And I love every inch of it,” she sighed and stroked him.

  “Ain’t nothing going on I need to know about?” Freeze asked. He wanted to know if she had heard anything that might make somebody want to kill Black. Things had been quiet lately, so he had no idea who would send somebody to kill Black.

  When Freeze had arrived at Black and Mystique’s hotel room, he had looked the dead man over. “Never seen this mutha fucka before,” he had told Black.

  “Neither have I,” Black confirmed. “I was hoping you would know. You ain’t doing nothing I should know about?”

  “Not me. Just stacking paper, I ain’t been fuckin’ with nobody. You ask her?” Freeze asked and pointed toward the bedroom where Mystique waited.

  “Mystique? What you mean?”

  “Jealous boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, I was looking at her when she saw the body. It didn’t look like she recognized him.”

  “How we gonna get him outta here?” Freeze asked.

  “I been thinking about that. I say we pour a couple of bottles of gin down his throat and take him down the steps. If anybody sees us, we play it like he’s drunk.”

  Black and Freeze were able to carry the body out of the room and down to the first floor without being seen. Once there, Mystique found a side door and they walked him out of the hotel. Freeze left Black and Mystique at the hotel while he took the body to the funeral parlor to be disposed of in the crematorium.

  “Not a thing … well.” Tamia paused and thought for a minute about the question Freeze had asked before continuing. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you, but you ever heard of a dealer named Cash Money?”

  “Yeah, I know that fool. What about him?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Y’all know who killed him? Probably one of his boyz.”

  “Nope. They're dead too.”

  “How many was it?”

  “Cash and four of his boys. The crime scene techs say it was a pretty clean shooting.”

  “What you mean?”

  “Three of them took four shots. Two head shots, two in the chest. They said the killers didn’t miss and Cash Money and them never got off a shot. No prints, no shells. Whoever killed them took the time to clean the scene.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Early yesterday morning’,” Tamia said, and Freeze wondered why he hadn’t heard about it.

  Tamia laid her head on his chest. She figured now that Freeze had what little information that she had for him, he would now get up and leave. But he didn’t. Freeze laid there quietly holding her.

  It didn’t take long for Tamia to start getting excited. When Black was in jail, she had done Freeze a really big favor, for which she had only been partially paid. She got the cash she was promised, but to this point, he had reneged on the rest of the deal. Freeze had promised to stay the entire night with her. “You know, sleep next to me,” she always said when she’d ask him about it. Tamia closed her eyes and silently hoped that this was the night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mike Black

  Jamaica was waiting for me at the airport with five of his men when I got off the plane in Freeport. Like the good girl she is, Michelle slept peacefully in my arms through the entire flight. Sometimes I stare at her and marvel at the fact that I’m her father. That I am responsible for her existence. When I look at her I only hope that I’m worthy. I stepped out of the airport and felt the island sun beat down on me and immediately began thinking about putting all this shit behind me and just staying down there.

  But somebody just tried to kill me, and I had no idea why. Was it related to Cassandra’s murder, or was this something else? I couldn’t be sure of that one either. I had made a lot of enemies in my life, most of them are dead. It could be anybody wanting to kill me over a whole lotta shit. I kissed Michelle on the forehead and hoped none of my shit would ever touch her.

  Now, I have a decision to make and it’s not gonna be easy. What about Michelle? Leaving her here for a couple of weeks while I went to Hong Kong with Bobby was one thing, but the assassination attempt changes all that. If I left her in Freeport with my mother, Emily, would she be safe? Or would somebody come to kill her like they did her mother? I couldn’t be sure of that either.

  “What’s up, Jamaica?” I said and shook his hand. His real name was Clyde Walker, but we’ve always called him Jamaica since the day he got off the banana barge and moved on our block.

  “Ain’t nuthin’, rude boy. It’s good to see you,” Jamaica said while he smiled and poked fun at Michelle. She laughed a little and smiled at Jamaica and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she had him eating out of her hand too. “Come, me have a car waiting.”

  “You bring a car seat for Michelle?”

  “Yes, sir. Me pick it out personally,” he said and continued to flirt with Michelle.

  “You bring enough people with you?” I asked as we walked to the parking lot surrounded by his men.

  “Somebody try to kill you. Maybe they try again here,” Jamaica said.

  “I can’t argue with your logic.”

  “You have any idea who it was?” Jamaica asked.

  “No.”

  “Me know you must think same people involved with kill Cassandra.”

  “Yeah, but who are they? To be honest with you, I hope it is. Gives me one more reason to cut their fuckin’ hearts out. But I really don’t know if this is connected or if this is some other shit. Me and Bobby are going to Hong Kong when I get back to the city.”

  “What’s in Hong Kong?”

  “Another wild goose probably,” I said, because that’s how it felt sometimes, but I gotta check it out.

  “You leave the baby with M?” Jamaica asked. It was Cassandra who had tagged my mother with the name M after we watched a Bond movie. Cassandra said that my mother was the same type of strong, no-nonsense woman that Judi Dench played as head of British Secret Service.

  “That’s right, so I don’t care what M says, I want you to double the men you got on the house.”

  “It’s done.”

  “I’m trusting you with my girls, Jay. I’m holding you personally responsible for their safety.”

  “Me die before I allow one hair upon she head to be harmed,” Jamaica said and continued teasing with Michelle.

  “Here, you wanna hold her?” I asked and handed her to him without waiting for an answer. He was a little awkward with her at first, but he settled down once Michelle smiled at him.

  When Cassandra and I left New York and moved to Freeport, Jamaica became the houseguest that just wouldn’t leave, but I wasn’t rushing him to go. After we killed Andre Harmon, Jamaica disappeared, and I didn’t see him for years. During that time, he got hooked on heroin. When I finally found him, I was able to convince Jamaica to get into a rehab program. After he kicked it, he moved to the island. As far as Cassandra an
d I were concerned, he could stay as long as he needed or wanted to.

  As he began to feel better and his mind got clearer, Jamaica began moving around, seeing how things worked on the island. Shooting’ craps was big on the island, but the locals couldn’t gamble in the casinos. It didn’t take him long to take over those independent games and set up new ones. Once that was organized and running smooth, I had Jamaica turn his attention to extortion. He began shaking down anybody who made money on the tourist industry. From tour operators, to bus and cab companies. From the guys who took tourists out on their boats on fishing trips, to the port merchants. If you made money, we made money.

  When we got to my house, there were another two of Jamaica’s men waiting for us. He always rotated two men to look out for my mother so one of them would be with her at all times. My mother doesn’t like having them around. She doesn’t allow them in the house and only acknowledges their presence when she needs them, but she’d gotten used to it. Since there were two of them there, I could only assume he had already stepped up security. Under the circumstances, I couldn’t argue with his logic.

  I had been there for a couple of days, enjoying my mother and watching her enjoy Michelle. The first day was a little rough starting out for the girls. M had only seen Michelle twice before that. The first time was just after she was born and again after Cassandra died. And with Michelle not liking women, she screamed bloody murder every time M tried to pick her up.

  “What is wrong with this child, Michael?” M had asked.

  “She doesn’t like women. She barely tolerates Pam holding her.”

  “I can barely tolerate Pam,” M said and tried to walk Michelle to quiet her. “I don’t like her. I thought she was just ignorant, now to find out that she’s crazy too.” M gave me that look that I hated to see when I was a kid. “And this is the woman you got raising my grandbaby? I just don’t understand you sometimes, Michael,” she yelled over Michelle’s screaming. I stood up and took Michelle from her. She got very quiet and M rolled her eyes at me.

  “That baby needs a home, Michael.”

  “She has a home.”

  “Really, where?”

  “We live at Bobby’s house,” I said, even though I knew what she meant. We have had this conversation before, and it always goes the same way.

  “Don’t get smart with me, Michael. You need a home of your own. It’s time for you to stop hiding out at Bobby’s house and move on with your life. I’m sure Cassandra wouldn’t want this life for you and this precious baby,” M said and took Michelle from my arms.

  She immediately went into her act. M gave Michelle the look.

  “You listen to me, young lady. I am your grandmother and I will not have you crying your head off every time I touch you. Do you understand me, young lady? You are not wet, your daddy just fed you, so I know you’re not hungry. Now you are gonna stop all this foolishness. You hear me?” M had told her granddaughter in the way Cassandra used to and Michelle slowly calmed down. Since that moment, M and Michelle have been all right with each other.

  M had just put Michelle down for a nap and came and sat down next to me. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  “Just thinking about the first day you brought Cassandra to my house.”

  “What made you think about that?”

  “That little angel in there. She favors her mother.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you remember that day, Michael?”

  “Of course, I do.” Cassandra had been shot and since M was a registered nurse, I brought her to M’s house to recover.

  “I would just hate for the same thing to happen to her one day.”

  “That’s not gonna happen, Ma. I won’t let it happen,” I promised.

  “How can you say that, Michael? There are three men outside with machine guns. I’m not stupid. I know there’s something going on and you're in some type of danger. And as long as you have this baby around you, she’s in danger too.”

  “I know, Ma. That’s why I’m gonna leave her here with you,” I announced to her so we could end the lecture, or at least shorten it. But it didn’t.

  “That’s good to know. I’m glad you came to your senses. New York is no place to raise a child. Look at what your life has cost the two of you. She’s already lost her mother, and if you keep living that life, sooner or later death is gonna come for you too. Now I understand that somebody senselessly murdered your wife and I know being the kind of man you are that you need answers. I understand that.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you understand that all of them are gonna die.”

  M gave me the look. “Anyway, all I’m asking is that once it’s over, that you think about that child and put that life behind you.”

  “Don’t you think I think about that all the time? I know I gotta keep Michelle away from all that.”

  “I’m talking about you too, Michael. This family has lost too much because of it.”

  “I know, Ma.”

  “So, who is she?” M asked.

  “Who’s who?”

  “The shake dancer.”

  “What?”

  “Wanda says she heard you picked up with some shake dancer.”

  “Wanda said that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “What words did she use?”

  “I asked her had you started seeing anybody yet, and Wanda said, you know how your son is and how his taste in women runs.”

  “She said that?”

  I got the look again. “Well, I know how your taste runs and …” M started when we heard a horn honking. That meant there was a car approaching.

  I got up and walked over to the window and saw that Jamaica was coming up the walkway toward the house. He had been trying to get me to hang out with him and check out his operation, but I hadn’t been feeling it. I was happy doing what I was doing. But since I wasn’t about to have a conversation about Mystique with my mother, his timing couldn’t have been any better.

  We spent the day going around to all the spots he ran on the island and stopped by one of the fishing boat operators, who took us out on the water for a while. I love the water. It’s one of the things I miss most about living in the Bahamas. When I get to New York, it’s like I forget the water exists.

  It was after sunset when the boat returned to Port Lucaya to dock, and I was ready to go home. But Jamaica had other ideas for my evening. “You must stay and take in the show tonight,” Jamaica told me.

  At The Port Lucaya Marketplace, there are stores, boutiques, restaurants, outdoor and indoor bars and cafes. On Friday night, at Port Lucaya, they have a native Bahamian cultural show with fire dancing, limbo and a stage show with the Port Lucaya dancers in the Count Basie Square.

  I had seen the show many times before when I lived down there, so I wasn’t all that hyped about seeing it again, but he insisted. “Besides, me want you to see the new girl that star in the show. Her really make a difference,” Jamaica promised.

  I was watching the limbo show and the Great ‘King Barry’ was working the crowd when I first caught a glimpse of her. “That her?” I asked Jamaica.

  “Yah, mon, that her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Jacara Delbridge.”

  “She’s very pretty.” That was an understatement. She was beautiful. So beautiful that I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “Yah, mon, that her.”

  The show was great. Not only was Jacara fine as hell, but she could sing and dance her ass off. After the show was over, and the crowd of tourist had thinned, I was sipping overpriced Remy at one of the outdoor bars when Jamaica came up behind me.

  “Mike Black,” he said, and I turned around. “This is Jacara Delbridge.”

  She was even more beautiful up close. I held out my hand and she accepted it. I felt her warmth. “Pronounce your name.”

  “Jacara Delbridge,” she said slowly.


  “It sounds better when you say it,” I said, bowing slightly, and taking her hand to my lips. “I enjoyed your show.”

  “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Jacara said.

  The three of us stood there at the bar and made small talk for a while after that. Jacara told me that she used to be a showgirl in Vegas and concluded that she would never be the headliner, so she decided to move on. She had come to the Bahamas for Junkanoo, a national festival in The Bahamas, and a short vacation eight months ago and decided to stay when the opportunity to be a part of the show presented itself.

  Junkanoo groups "rush" from midnight until shortly after dawn, to the music of cowbells, in costumes made from cardboard covered in tiny shreds of colorful crepe paper competing for cash prizes. Some say the word Junkanoo comes from John Canoe, the name of an African tribal chief who demanded the right to celebrate with his people even after being brought to the West Indies in slavery.

  After a while, Jamaica faded into the background and disappeared. By that time, we were on our third round and the conversation had gotten comfortable.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Jacara asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Who are you?” she asked with a smile I was starting to like.

  I turned and looked into her eyes. I liked those too. It’s one of my weaknesses. Cassandra had the most expressive eyes. I used to tell her that they were like windows to her mind. “I’m Mike Black.”

  “I know your name,” Jacara said and took a playful swing at me. “I wanna know who you are.”

  “What do you mean?” Jacara had me smiling.

  “All night I’ve seen people who don’t get in a hurry for anything, suddenly rushing around here. They're all nervous and intense. And then you appear, and they all but bow down to you,” Jacara said and took a bow. “So again I ask, who are you?”