The cost of vengeance

by Roy Glenn

  I looked at Bobby. I could tell that he was still on fire about the stunt that Pam had pulled. “Maybe you should wait here,” I said and got out of the car. The last thing I wanted was for his anger at Pam and his concern for his children to cloud his judgment.

  Bobby got out of the car and followed me to the door. “I’m all right, Mike. Let’s get this over with,” he said and took out his gun.

  I didn’t argue with him ’cause I knew it would do no good. There was a light on in the front of the house, so I rang the bell. It didn’t take long for the door to open; which surprised me since it was after one in the morning. Quovadda opened the door and looked very surprised to see us. I grabbed her and pulled her outside. Bobby put his hand over her mouth and his gun to her temple.

  “Hello, Quovadda. If you scream or try to run, he’ll kill you, understand?”

  Quovadda’s eyes were wide open and she nodded her head.

  “Good,” I said, and Bobby took his hand away from her mouth. “I’m lookin’ for Skip Skinner. I hear that he’s hidin’ inside.”

  “He was here, but he left,” Quovadda said quietly.

  “Where’d he go?” Bobby said.

  “I don’t know.”

  I opened the door and Bobby pushed Quovadda inside. “You can search the house, Black; he isn’t here,” Quovadda said and I took out my gun.

  While Bobby searched the house, I sat and talked law with Quovadda. Wanda told me that she was good people, and that she was the type of person who would do anything for her friends. That’s probably what made her a good attorney; one who provided her clients with an impassioned defense. “I’m curious, Quovadda, what’s a big-time lawyer like you doin’ with Skip?”

  “He was one of my first clients.”

  “No, Quovadda, it’s more than that. You mean enough to him that he would hide out at your house.”

  “Honestly?”

  “I like honesty.”

  “I’ve been holding some money for him and he came to get it,” Quovadda said, and I was amazed at how calm and poised she was. At a time like this, with a gun pointed at her, most people would be on the brink of tears.

  “His getaway money,” I said.

  “And since you’re here, I going to assume that it is you he’s trying to get away from,” Quovadda said.

  “You would be correct,” I said as Bobby returned from searching the house.

  He immediately returned his gun to Quovadda’s head and grabbed her by the throat. “Where the fuck is he?”

  “I don’t know,” Quovadda managed.

  “You don’t know or you can’t say?” I asked and Quovadda looked confused. “Let her go, Bobby.” He let go of her neck and I sat down next to her. “I’m going to kill Skip tonight. You know that, right?”

  “I got that impression.”

  “When I do, I’d like to hire you to defend me for his murder,” I said and Quovadda smiled. “I could double your usual fee. Will you take me as a client? Of course you would have to drop Skip as a client first.”

  Quovadda understood that if I was going to kill Skip, I would have to kill her too. But if she was my attorney, she would be bound by attorney-client privilege.

  “How do I know that after you retain my services and you kill Skip, you won’t come back here and kill me too?”

  “You have my word,” I said and Quovadda looked at Bobby. “And his too?”

  Quovadda was smart. After agreeing to my terms, she asked permission to go to her office and she drafted and had us sign an agreement retaining her services. Then she faxed it to her Manhattan office. Once the fax was sent, Quovadda looked at me. “Skip is in my boathouse at the pier.”

  As we walked away from Quovadda’s house, Bobby asked a logical question. “When we’re done with Skip, are we gonna come back and kill her?”

  “No. Quovadda’s a good lawyer, and we can never have too many good lawyers.”

  When we got to Quovadda’s boathouse, we found it was small with one door going in and one window. “I’m really not in any mood to rush that door, Mike. And I don’t think you are either,” Bobby said.

  “Any ideas?”

  “Be right back,” Bobby said and walked off. I watched as Bobby walked slowly down the pier, looking in each of the boats. While I waited, I looked out at the ocean. Just being there on the water made me long to be back in Nassau with my girls.

  Then Jada West eased back into my mind. What to do about Jada West? There was something about her that I just couldn’t shake. Bobby came back carrying a gas can, and I knew what he had in mind. “Any gas in it?”

  “Enough,” he said; and as quietly as he could, he walked around the boathouse and poured out the gas. When the can was empty, Bobby lit the trail on fire and walked away. “If he’s in there, he’ll be out in a minute.”

  We waited as the boathouse caught on fire. After awhile I heard somebody scream “OH, SHIT!” and the door flew open. Skip came running out with his clothes on fire. He was so busy trying to put it out that he didn’t notice me and Bobby walk up on him.

  “Drop and roll,” Bobby said as Skip finally killed the fire.

  “Black.”

  “Good-bye, Skip,” I said and put two in his chest. Bobby stood over him and added two more to the head. I went and got a fire extinguisher from the boat nearby, and put out the fire in the house while Bobby tossed Skip’s body in the water.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jada West

  I slept later than usual the day after our late-night trip to the Waldorf. It was well after two in the afternoon when I finally opened my eyes. Shortly after that, my private line began ringing. “Good Afternoon,” I answered in my professional voice, but was still a little sleepy.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. West.”

  Just the sound of that voice dancing in my ear brought me to full conscieneness right away. “Well, hello, Mr. Black. I was wondering if you had gotten my message.”

  “I did; and I’m sorry that I’m just getting back to you now. I had a very busy night last night.”

  “No need to apologize. I had a busy night myself. Although I’m sure your night was probably more eventful than mine, I had some things that I needed to handle and I’m just waking up.”

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “Oh, no. And even if you had, it would be a pleasure to hear from you anyway,” I said and laughed a little. “Anyway. I was wondering, if you didn’t have any plans of course, if you were free to join me for dinner this evening?” I asked and hoped that he would say yes.

  “As a matter of fact, I was going to fly to Nassau this evening.”

  “I see,” I said and all the excitement and anticipation eased out of my body.

  “But I could catch a later flight, Ms. West.”

  Good, that’s more what I wanted to hear, I thought instead of saying. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble,” I said graciously.

  “No trouble at all, Ms. West. I would be honored to have dinner with you. Just tell me where and what time, and I’ll make arrangements.”

  “Excellent,” I said and tried, but failed, not to sound too excited. “Are you familiar with Bouley on Duane Street?”

  “No, Ms. West.”

  “It’s David Bouley’s French restaurant in Tribeca.”

  “I haven’t eaten there before.”

  “Bouley’s offers modern French cuisine with world influences in a very intimate setting. It’s been awhile since I’ve been there, but the food and ambience are excellent.”

  “I’ve heard good things about Bouley’s, Ms. West. And I’m always interested in trying someplace new.”

  “It would be my pleasure to introduce you to something new. Shall we say six; or is that too late for you?”

  “Not at all. I will see you at six then,” he said and ended the call.

  I rolled over in bed and immediately began thinking about what to wear. I sat up and looked in the mirror at my hair. I picked up the phone and call
ed Rewa, my stylist, and after more pleading than usual, she agreed to come right over and do something special with my hair.

  I got out of bed and walked in my closet. Of course I wanted to look nice for Mr. Black, but I wanted to make a statement that he would think about on his flight to the islands, and remember until the next time he saw me. Who was I kidding? I wanted to wear something that would make him cancel his flight until the next afternoon.

  The first thing I choose was a Zac Posen lace and tulle, scoopneck dress with lace overlay across the bust and waist and lace skirt. But I thought all that lace and these breasts might be too revealing for dinner at Bouley.

  My second choice was a Carolina Herrera pinstriped sheath with an inviting V neckline, pleated cap sleeves tacked in back, with a contrast inset waistband and diamond beaded detailing. But that was too conservative and wasn’t going to make the forceful statement I wanted for the evening.

  I looked at my Versace faux leather panel dress, short with the jewel neckline, and smooth sleeves with banded cuffs. I liked that outfit because of the way it clinged to my body; but I like wearing it with boots and I wanted to show my legs.

  I looked at the clock and knew that there wasn’t enough time for me to go shop for the perfect ensemble to entertain Mr. Black. And besides, Rewa would be here within the hour. The right outfit was in this closet, all I had to do was find it and settle on it.

  I finally settled on a Dior silk crepe belted dress. A sophisticated, off-the-shoulder design with bow ties, belted waist, and button front details; straight neckline and center rear slit. Jimmy Choo marble stilettos covered in peek-a-boo mesh and lustrous suede. I chose the Dior because its off-the-shoulder design showed off my breasts without being too revealing like the Zac Posen lace or the Versace, but it hugged my curves. And most importantly, it was black, and Mr. Black seems to love it when I wear black for him.

  While Rewa did my hair I wondered why I didn’t just invite him over here for cocktails, when he said he had a flight to catch. Especially since my desire was to get him here so I could seduce him. But it was too late to think about that now. I sat there and wondered if there was any chance that he was going through these types of changes about having dinner with me.

  The cab dropped me off in front of Bouley at a quarter to six. I usually like to arrive late and make an entrance, but I decided that since his time was limited, my arriving late would be rude. And as you all know, a lady is never rude.

  I had only been seated for a while before I looked up and saw Mr. Black with the maitre d’. I gave my most lady-like wave and they came toward my table. I glanced at my watch; he was early and I wondered if it was because he wanted to squeeze in every minute he could with me, or if was he just the type that liked to get to places early.

  I stood up when he got to the table because I wanted to make sure he saw what I was wearing. I watched his eyes as he came closer. Mr. Black looked me over from my head to my feet, and smiled the rarest of smiles. He was wearing an Azione by Zanetti charcoal gray suit and a black shirt. He looked so handsome.

  “Hello, Ms. West,” he said and kissed me on the cheek. His lips were soft and they sent chills through me. He stepped back and looked me over again. “I have to say, Ms. West, you look extraordinary this evening.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Black. You look very handsome as well.”

  He held out my chair for me, before taking his seat. He looked deep into my eyes. “It seems like you get more and more beautiful each time I see you.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “Not flattery, Ms. West; it has the advantage of being true.”

  The waiter came and interrupted Mr. Black and I wanted to tell him to go away until he finished telling me how beautiful I looked.

  Sure, I had heard it before, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  Mr. Black ordered a bottle of vintage Dom Perigain and sent the waiter away. Then he immediately returned his attention to me. “Now, where was I, before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  “I believe you were telling me how beautiful you thought I was.”

  “Yes. But you probably have men telling you that type of thing everyday/all day, don’t you, Ms. West?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. But you’re not every man, are you, Mr. Black?”

  We continued to trade compliments while we looked over the menu, and the waiter returned with our champagne. We both ordered the Porcini Flan Dungeness crab, Black Truffle Dashi as an appetizer, and I choose the Long Island Duckling with a Balinese pepper crust, White Truffle honey, julienne of snow peas, Tahitian vanilla-glazed turnips, Verjus, ginger dressing. Mr. Black ordered the Organic Colorado Rack of Lamb, rosemary crust, Langres cheese and zucchini-mint-puree. I was surprised and very impressed that he selected a wine that was appropriate for both of our meals. Sexy and cultured. Each moment I spend with him makes this man become more and more irresistible to me.

  We had polite conversation while we sipped champagne and sampled the crab. I have to be honest, I could sit and listen to Mr. Black talk all night; his voice is so soothing and he is quite knowledgeable on a number of subjects. As the waiter served our entree, I thought that there was so much more to him than I’ve given him credit for. I decided to get to business, which after all, was the more important reason for inviting him to have dinner with me.

  “I haven’t heard anymore from our friend Oleg Mushnikov since we last spoke,” I said while I sliced the duck.

  “And if you do hear from Oleg, I need to know about it right away.”

  “Then is it safe to assume that you were able to speak with him?”

  “Yes, Ms. West. I had very long talk with Oleg that same evening.”

  “Do you mind if I ask how you were able to get him to leave me alone?”

  “You could ask,” he said sarcastically.

  “But you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “No, Ms. West, I’m not. Let’s just say that I made Oleg an offer he couldn’t refuse,” Mr. Black said, and I wondered if he had threatened to kill him. The thought that he would kill for me excited me to my core.

  “I want to thank you then. I guess now would be a good time for me to ask what that offer that Mr. Mushnikov couldn’t refuse is going to cost me?”

  “What do you want to owe me Ms. West?”

  “What do you want, Mr. Black?” I asked, instead of offering myself to him.

  He looked into my eyes again. “I believe I’ve already gotten what I want from you Ms. West.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “You said: thank you.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes, Ms. West. Sometime in the future, I may have a business opportunity to discuss with you.”

  “I’m tempted to say yes right away. You know that I’m always interested in an opportunity to make money.”

  “I heard that about you,” Mr. Black said, and I wondered what he meant so I asked him.

  “What have you heard?”

  “That you are all about the money, Ms. West.”

  I smiled and let go a flirtaous giggle. Mr. Black took a deep breath and peered into my eyes. “I wouldn’t dare deny that; especially since in most cases, it’s the truth.”

  “I promise not to hold that against you. Especially since in most cases it’s true about me too,” Mr. Black told me.

  “Tell me about this opportunity, Mr. Black?”

  “Before I do that, I need to talk to some people. But in the meantime, anything that I can ever do for you, all you have to do is ask and consider it done.”

  “Are you saying that you’d do anything for me, Mr. Black?”

  “You’re a very intelligent woman Ms. West, so I think you understand what I mean.”

  “I do,” I smiled and he returned my smile. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  “Okay. I would do anything for you, Ms. West. And all I’ll ask in return is that you look at me with those beautiful eyes and say ‘thank you’ with those l
ips,” he said, and I was done for the evening.

  For the rest of the meal and over drinks afterwards, Mr. Black and I talked and flirted. There was a part of me that wanted to say, “What I really want is for you to make love to me tonight.”

  But two things prevented that.

  One: I didn’t want to hear him say, “No, I have a plane to catch.”

  And the other, the stronger reason: was that he had made me feel like wanted me the way I wanted him. So if that was the case, I wanted him to take his time and make love to me.

  Not fuck me like he had a plane to catch.

  At about eight thirty, Mr. Black glanced at his watch and said that he had to go. I signed for the waiter. Mr. Black, as a gentleman should, insisted over my objections that he pay the check. Mr. Black stood up and came around to pull out my chair. I extended my hand and he helped me up. I looped my arm in his and gently rested my head on his shoulder as we walked out. We shared a cab in silence for the ride to my apartment. He asked the driver to wait while in escorted me to my door. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Black.”

  “It was my pleasure, Ms. West. We have to do this again, next time I’m in town.”

  “I’d like that,” I said. “And I’ll be looking forward to hearing about this opportunity.”

  “Good night, Ms. West,” he said with a polite hug and another kiss on the cheek.

  “Good night, Mr. Black. Have a safe trip,” I said, and once again watched Mr. Black walk away from me. But this time, I knew he’d be back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Unknown

  I am alone.

  Alone everyday on this island. I really don’t know how long I’ve been here, because I stopped counting. But I know it’s been years. I still think about the night that they took me: I was watching television and looked up and there he was, standing in my living room with that smile on his face. I tried to get away, but he was too fast for me. He put something over my mouth and the next thing I knew, I woke up chained to this bed.