Gray's Ghosts

by Carey Lewis

  “Sure as fuck looked like one,” Huey said, holding the smoke in his lungs. “Got that big gun on his hip. Came to my house Cesar.”

  “He’s the bondsman just wants his money back,” Cesar said, unzipping the bag and looking inside. “What’s this?” he asked, rummaging through the bag.

  “Says Randy’s dead,” Huey said, then started coughing, the smoke coming out of his mouth in spurts.

  “Where’s the rest?” Cesar asked, looking up at Huey.

  “Said you killed him. You killed him because he got pinched.”

  Cesar stood up, still holding the bag. “Huey? Where the fuck is the rest of my money?”

  “Talk to your boy.” Huey was still doing his version of pacing and pointed at Hector. He tried to smoke the joint again but coughed instead. “Broke my phone. Had to pay for cabs. Fat Jeff charged me eighty for the ride back because I can’t call this retard for a ride when he breaks my phone.”

  Hector charged across the room and planted a punch in Huey’s mouth. It sent Huey backwards, knocking against the TV. Both crashed to the floor.

  “Jesus Christ,” Cesar yelled. Hector stood over Huey, his arm cocked back to throw another punch. Huey’s arms were up as well as his leg, laying there like a pathetic dog, waiting for the next hit. Hector wanted nothing more in the world than to keep hitting him. Keep hitting him until there was nothing left to hit.

  “Jesus,” Cesar said again, this time more to himself, walking away with his hands on his head, mumbling to himself. Hector stood upright, waiting for what Cesar was going to say. The dogs were scratching and barking at the door.

  “Which one of you is paying for that?” he asked, his hands still on his head. Hector looked down to Huey, watched him spit blood out of his mouth onto the floor. Cesar seemed to be stopping himself from crossing the room and hitting Huey himself.

  Instead he opened the door to let the dogs in. They came running, getting a sense of the room, running around with nowhere to go, confused at what they were supposed to be barking at.

  “You brought the Lincoln, that’s good. We got some shit to do before we go to the airport.”

  “Why we going to the airport?” Huey asked, slowly sliding his butt across the carpet to get out from under Hector.

  “We’re picking up the TV star,” Hector told him.

  “Why’s he at the airport?”

  “Because that’s where the planes go, you want to get hit again?”

  Huey glared from the floor. He wanted Huey to call him a name again, to say anything really. Just give him an excuse to pop Huey in the mouth one more time.

  “Then why’s his wife still here?” Huey asked before he spit more blood onto the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  DEACON GOT TO THE AIRPORT and checked the arrivals for the flight he was supposed to be on, the one that was supposed to be arriving at 4:55. It was delayed ten minutes, coming in at 5:05 now. He looked around, hoping not to see Cesar. No sign of him, just the usual bustle of an airport. People excited to be at their destination, people unsure where to go, people beelining to security and help desks, and families stressed out from the trip.

  After checking the Arrivals board, he went walked past the people staring at the hallway that came from Baggage Claim. He looked at the two rows of blue plastic chairs, saw a guy holding flowers, probably waiting for his girlfriend. Saw a few others waiting for a plane to arrive. The intercom crackled with a woman’s voice, telling people about a flight arriving that Deacon couldn’t make out.

  He took a seat in the corner, giving him a view of the sliding glass doors that brought people out of the terminal as well as the window to the street behind him. He saw the cabs lining up there, the drivers talking amongst themselves, waiting for the next plane to touch down.

  Deacon could’ve went straight to Cesar for all the good the extra time did him. Brooke would follow them in the Buick SUV Deacon was supposed to drop off when he caught his flight. That was the extent of their plan. She’d follow them to know where he was. That was it.

  “And if they decide to kill me?” he asked her back at the taco shop.

  “I’ll put up a sign that says ‘The final resting place of Deacon Gray,’” she said.

  “I say I don’t have money for them, maybe you come by and tell them jokes until they die laughing.”

  As far as Deacon was concerned, that would’ve been just as good as the plan they had now.

  “You’re the one that wants to go meet them instead of telling them to fuck off. We don’t even know what they want yet, how much they want. If there even is a video. Okay, you want to meet them, that’s what you got to find out. If they have video, you want to see it. They’ll want to take you to the bank to get the money. You tell them you’re not going anywhere until you see what they have on you.”

  “If I would’ve had the money I would’ve paid them.”

  “But you don’t and if you did they’d still have the video. They’d come at you anytime they wanted.”

  “So they show me the video, then what?”

  “Been wondering that myself,” Brooke said. “You could always hide in the bank.”

  “Pick a good time to have a sense of humor.”

  “Deke, they’re not going to kill you until they get their money. You don’t give them the money—”

  “I can’t give them the money.”

  “Then that keeps you alive. They show you the video, you find out it’s true, they drive you to the bank and you tell them there’s a problem, you can’t get it right now.”

  “Then they keep me overnight and try again tomorrow. I keep doing that, they’re going to get fed up.”

  “But it gives us time to find a way out of there. Maybe I’ll pull up and pick you up when you get out of the bank. They won’t do anything in public.”

  “Just get into the Buick?”

  “Why not? If they don’t have any tape of you we just drive the Buick to the airport and get out of here. If they do have tape, we start figuring out our next steps.”

  “Spirit Airlines Flight Seven-One-Seven from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, now landing,” the lady announced over the intercom. The rest of the message was lost in static. Deacon perked up. It was the flight he was supposed to be on. He looked out the window to the cabs and saw the Town Car pull into a spot. Huey got out of the driver’s side. Then came Cesar out of the back and the big one, Hector.

  He wanted to run. He hoped they wouldn’t come in, just stay out there by the car. He watched Huey give the finger to the parking cop that came by to tell them they couldn’t stay there. Watched the three of them lean against the car, eying the doors, waiting for him to come out.

  Deacon noticed he was breathing heavy and his leg was twitching. There was a film of sweat on his forehead he wiped off. He still had time. They’d expect him to get off the plane, get away from the gates, pick up the bag from Baggage Claim that was actually on the floor at his feet.

  Now he was focused on the Arrivals door. He had until the people came shuffling out. He had that long to come up with a plan.

  “American Eagle Flight Five-One-Seven-Zero from Miami, Florida via Charlotte…” the intercom said.

  He looked behind him again, saw the trio still leaning on the car, none of them saying anything. He looked to his left, down the stretch of cabs lined against the curb. There was the Buick with the tinted windows hiding Brooke inside.

  Then he heard people. Deacon turned and saw them pouring out now, families, vacationers, tourists, businessmen. That wasn’t much time. His breathing quickened as he watched the crowd, unable to raise himself from the plastic chair. He watched them, confused, determined, or happy. Saw a couple having a spat, the guy storming off leaving his girlfriend behind, marching out of the doors ahead of her. She lowered her head and followed, dragging the bag behind her on its wheels.

  Then the doors slid shut and no one else came out. Over his shoulder he saw Hector bobbing his head around, trying to spot De
acon in the crowd. He wasn’t ready yet. Then the door slid open and another crowd of people came out. He watched them, still trying to figure out what to do.

  The crowd filled the Arrivals waiting area and started going out the door. Deacon watched the three outside. Then it looked like Cesar saw a ghost. In front of him were three Hispanic men wearing Hawaiian shirts and light colored khakis. The one in front of the three had his arms out like he was expecting a hug.

  Cesar’s jaw dropped. Whoever these people were, Cesar wasn’t expecting them. He went over and gave the guy a hug. The guy in the Hawaiian shirt held him by the shoulders, getting a good look at him.

  Deacon decided to go outside.

  IF SOMEONE TOLD CESAR HE would see his own mother coming back into his life, marching through those doors, he would’ve believed that sooner than seeing Pablo coming toward him. Pablo with his Hawaiian shirt and his two button men behind him, Luis and Javier, coming all the way from Florida.

  He couldn’t help himself. His jaw dropped. Pablo was coming toward him with his arms out to his sides, big smile under his mustache. “How did you know we were coming Cesar?” he asked.

  Cesar hugged him, said, “What’re you doing here?”

  Pablo broke the hug and held Cesar at arms length, his arms on his shoulders. “Are you telling me you are not here for us?” he asked.

  Cesar didn’t have an answer. He was still trying to understand what was happening.

  A smile broke out on Pablo’s lips again. “Ah Cesar, we did not expect you. We come as a surprise.”

  “Well you got that.”

  “Yes I see,” Pablo said. “Meet my men. You know Javier, yes?” Cesar looked over Pablo’s shoulder and they exchanged nods with each other. “And this is Luis.” Pablo turned to look at his men. “Shake hands. We are in business together.”

  The group of men exchanged handshakes and pleasantries. Hector and Javier had the same personality it seemed. They were being friendly while telling each other they were hard, not going to back down from the other.

  “So tell me Cesar. If you are not here for us what are you here for?”

  Huey answered him. “We’re here for him,” he said, pointing past them to Deacon standing just outside the sliding doors.

  Cesar glared at Huey over his shoulder. This was all happening too fast. He needed time to think.

  “Ah, Deacon Gray,” Pablo said, the smile never seeming to disappear under his salt and pepper mustache. “Deacon Gray of Gray’s Ghosts,” he said, walking toward Deacon extending his hand. “I cannot tell you how much I am in love with your show.”

  Deacon shook his hand and Pablo led him back to the group. Cesar couldn’t figure it out. He had a plan. For some reason his brain wasn’t working a way he could adapt it. He was staring at Deacon, glaring really, thinking this was somehow his fault.

  “Cesar, you never told me you had such high profile friends,” Pablo said, looking back at Cesar with his arm around Deacon. “I have to ask you if you don’t mind.”

  “He says if you have to ask you already believe they’re real,” Huey said. Cesar waited to see Pablo’s reaction. They were all staring at Huey, a big smile on his face and his lip busted open.

  “I apologize Mr. Gray,” Pablo said, turning back to Deacon. “You must get that question a lot.”

  “You get used to it,” Deacon said with a smile.

  “I have so many things to ask you. My wife and myself, we are big fans.”

  Cesar watched Deacon look at him before he said, “I don’t mind.”

  The smile on Pablo’s face only grew. “Have you had dinner yet Mr. Gray? It will be my treat.”

  Javier moved beside Pablo and whispered something in his ear. He nodded. “Mr. Gray, how long are you in town for?”

  He looked at Cesar, said, “I’m not sure yet.”

  Pablo turned back to Javier, said something Cesar couldn’t make out. Then he turned back to Deacon. “Would you mind being my guest? Whatever you want as long as I get to pick your brain.”

  “You’re buying?” Deacon asked.

  “But yes of course. You are to be my guest.”

  “That’s good,” Deacon said then looked at Cesar. “I’m a little light on cash.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Pablo said and now he was looking at Cesar. “Sometimes you make investments you must make sure they will turn out how they are promised.”

  BROOKE WATCHED THE SCENE, LEANED forward against the steering wheel. Watched the people in their Hawaiian shirts come out. Saw Cesar for the first time not in charge, his mouth wide open like he was catching flies.

  She lit another cigarette, the previous one still smoking on the ground beside the Buick. Now here was Deacon coming out and standing there like he didn’t know what to do. In a way she wanted him to stay inside, use the distraction to get out of there. But they’d still have him. Cesar would call him up the next day or the day after that. He was playing it right, find out who these guys were and see if he could use it to his advantage. Now the new guy, looked like the leader, had his arm around Deacon. He never stopped smiling.

  She watched them all, they were looking around. Huey looked this way, maybe seeing the smoke blow out of the window. As a reflex she ducked a bit, then realized it was stupid. It wasn’t uncommon for a car to be here at the airport, waiting to pick someone up. Brooke didn’t realize how nervous she was.

  Righting herself in the seat, she looked out again. Huey was still looking this way. He put his hand up. Was he waving at her? Did Deacon give it away already? Then she saw the cab pull up alongside the Town Car, saw Huey walk to the back and open the door. There were words exchanged between the group then Hector got in. Huey looked back to Cesar then he got in the cab as well. Cesar didn’t look happy.

  The cab waited while Cesar opened the back of the Town Car now, watched the two big guys get in the back, putting Deacon in the middle. Cesar tried to smile as he opened the passenger side for the leader. Closed the door behind him, walked around the Town Car and had a few words with the two in the cab. Then he got in the drivers seat of the Town Car.

  Brooke started the engine and waited a couple moments for the Town Car to pull out of the spot. The cab followed behind. She put the Buick into gear and pulled out herself.

  They were off.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE ONE TO HIS LEFT was Luis, to the right was Javier. That’s pretty much all the talking they did except the one time Pablo turned and asked a question in Spanish. Probably asking why the two in the back were in a bad mood. The one, Luis, answered, then went back to looking out the window. Pablo said something again in Spanish, then said something to Cesar who said, “What?”

  “I do not know how you can be Mexican your whole life and not know Spanish,” Pablo said.

  “I was born here. About as Mexican as snow,” Cesar said, like he was offended.

  They didn’t say anything else until they got to the restaurant. They pulled into the parking lot for the Rio Brazilian Steakhouse and Pablo turned in the front seat to look at his men in the back. Deacon didn’t know what to make of their expressions.

  Cesar took the Town Car slowly across the front. Place looked like a hacienda but with neon lights splashing everywhere. The big circle around ‘Rio’ was lit up with ‘Brazilian Steakhouse’ underneath it over the entrance where families were waiting in line.

  Deacon turned, hoping to see Brooke back there but he just saw the cab behind them, stopping in front of the red carpet going up the steps to the glass doors. Javier looked at him. “Never been here before,” Deacon said. It took a bit for Javier to look away.

  The Town Car turned the corner, went down the side of the building to the parking lot in back, full of mini-vans and sedans. Cesar parked the car and everyone got out. Pablo said something in Spanish and his men chuckled to themselves, leading the way back to the entrance.

  Pablo came up and put his arm around Deacon’s shoulder. “You said you have never been here?”r />
  “No,” Deacon said. He watched a few cars pass, going to the parking lot in the back. Then he saw Brooke in the SUV. They locked eyes when she passed them, then his gaze dropped to his feet.

  “It is good. It is a franchise though so the flavors are not as bold,” Pablo said, looking over his shoulder to glare at Cesar. “The franchises, they have to make them bland you see, so their customers will not be offended.” He looked to Deacon. “You understand?”

  Deacon said he understood but Pablo kept talking. “The people, they do not know better. They think they are getting the real thing. But it is not real, yes?”

  Deacon nodded to Pablo as they rounded the corner to the front, wondering if he was actually talking to Cesar instead of him. There was Hector and Huey, the two of them having some words while Huey waited in line behind a chubby woman dressed in a white T-shirt and white shorts. She had on white socks and sneakers to finish the outfit.

  “Got us a place in line,” Huey said. Hector shook his head. Javier and Luis passed without giving them a look.

  “We do not wait in lines,” Pablo said, passing by too. Deacon heard Hector tell Cesar he told Huey not to get in line and then Cesar told him to shut up.

  “You see,” Pablo said to Deacon, “these places want to be a high class place but they have a fear of turning these people away.” Pablo stopped and turned Deacon to look at the line before they went up the red carpeted steps to go inside. “Look at them Mr. Gray. Do you want to tell me that these are the people who will give your restaurant a good name?”

  “They seem alright.”

  “It is these people that will sit down for a fifty dollar meal and call it expensive. It is these people that believe they are something they are not. Do you understand my point?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good,” Pablo said, the smile still there, but this time there was a tightness to it. He couldn’t help but feel he was being used to make a point to Cesar.