by J. A. Marley
Danny was watching all of this, a wry smile on his face, puzzlement in his brain. How could ordinary people live like this? He wasn’t sneering, but he just knew that such a lifestyle would probably lead him to guzzling down a whole bottle of bourbon in one go and then send him lurching in search of the shotgun to suck down next.
He wandered amongst the stalls, wondering why he had actually turned up. Did he like Father Simeon that much? Well… yes. Did he respect him that much? It would seem so. Danny had turned up for his friend, the priest. No two ways about it. But how on earth could Sim think that such an event had anything of value for Danny? That was a mystery yet to reveal itself, if it could at all.
The stall in front of him was festooned with homemade comedy hats. The kind that could make you look like a dog with floppy ears, and a nose piece to complete the transformation. Or you might gain an instant set of dreadlocks, or stag’s antlers, glistening with tinsel that was bound to be a hit come Christmas time.
Two women had stopped, trying on matching tam o’shanters that provided them both with shocks of instant ginger hair. They were both leaning into one another, taking a selfie. Danny was struck, not for the first time, that he didn’t understand the twenty-first century compulsion to take pictures of yourself at every turn. Had we become so self-obsessed that every time a person so much as took their dog for a walk, they felt an irresistible desire to record the moment for posterity? As he thought this, one of the women turned towards him, taking the hat off as she laughed.
It took Danny a second to recognise Amparo Sosa, especially as her hair was off-kilter and not pulled back in a regulation bun. Plus, she was dressed in civvies, with no sign of her Monroe County uniform.
“Hello, Danny… what are you doing here?”
“Eh…”
“Lo siento… that sounded rude… I just didn’t expect to see you at an event like…” She trailed off.
Danny laughed. For some reason, he liked to see her disarmed as she dug a bigger hole for herself. “Nice social skills there, Deputy. Are you always this charming? Like a little ray of sleet?”
“Sleet? What is… is this another British thing?”
He laughed again. There was endless fun to be had here, but he was interrupted by the second woman clearing her throat.
“Oh, sorry again… This is my friend, Cheryl Costanza. We came to support the charity, her grandmother suffered from Alzheimer’s.”
“A pleasure to meet you…?”
“Danny Franklin. I seem to be Amparo’s pet Brit. She keeps me around so that I can teach her how to speak English properly. Sorry to hear about your grandma.”
“Thank you, and with that accent, I might ask for an English lesson myself, Mr Franklin.”
Amparo turned, looking incredulous at how forward her friend had just been.
“I only deal in one pupil at a time, Ms Costanza. Languages can be tricky, you need that one-on-one touch.”
“Ignore my so-called amiga. She is a little eager to make new friends…” This earned Amparo a playful punch from her friend.
“Have you tried on any hats, Danny? I could see you in one of these doggy ones.”
“I’m not sure it’s my kind of thing, Deputy.”
“Don’t be boring, hombre.”
Before he could stop her, Amparo was plucking one of the hats from the display, reaching to place it over his head. Danny was feeling uncomfortable, but when her friend raised the camera phone, he objected. Danny never wanted to be caught on film, digital, mobile or any other kind.
In scrambling to avoid the hat and turn away from the camera, he ended up pinning Amparo’s arms to her sides. It was an awkward embrace lasting just a beat too long before both broke apart.
“Jeez, that was almost a touching moment, you guys. Amparo hasn’t had so much male attention in a long while.” Cheryl was laughing.
Danny was irritated. He couldn’t be sure he’d avoided the camera’s stare.
“Here, try a different one, Danny. How about a knitted Marlins hat? You like baseball?”
Cheryl threw the beanie at him, but he didn’t catch it. The word baseball triggered his memory. His night with Harkness. A flash of blood arcing up a wall. A hot feeling of his own hair singeing at the side of his head, so real he reached up to touch where the scab was still healing under his hairline. His face turned a little ashen, and suddenly, all the self-loathing shame that he had been able to distance himself from came rushing to the front of his mind.
In a heartbeat, he went from irritated to feeling sick. It was disgust at how he had revelled in the mayhem, how he had enjoyed the strain on his muscles as he cracked the bat across another person’s knees.
And Amparo saw it. He knew she did. The distress his memories were causing. Right there, etched across his face.
“Hey, Cheryl… go get us a couple of beers.”
“What? Hermana…? What’d I do?”
Amparo flicked her head impatiently, Costanza taking the hint and walking off in search of the beer concession.
“You okay, Danny? You look a touch pale… you feeling chuke?”
Danny was breathing deeply, eyes clamped shut, trying to stop his mind from racing, to keep a panic attack at bay. And then, he felt a touch on his face, gentle, calming. He opened his eyes. Amparo was standing before him, looking up, a concerned expression on her face. She took him by the hand and led him to a nearby bench, sitting him down.
“Hey, muchacho, relax, okay. Take a deep breath. You want some agua?”
Danny cleared his throat. He was beginning to feel embarrassed, which he took as a good sign, his panic starting to fade. “No, no, I’ll be all right. I’ve just had… a touch of a cold, or something…”
“Are you sure? Because to me that looked like someone just walked straight over your grave. You went kinda white, which is saying something for a gringo.”
Danny looked up at her and started to softly laugh. “Thank you for your concern, and your gentle touch. That was…”
Danny stopped himself. What the fuck am I doing? With everything going on right now, I can’t be flirting with a woman… let alone a sheriff’s deputy. Madness…
An awkward silence followed until Danny found it possible to stand up. “I ought to find Father Simeon. I was supposed to help him cook ribs…”
“Sí, sí… I think he’s the one with the microphone.” She nodded over Danny’s shoulder, as he turned to see his friend in full MC swing. “I’m off today and tomorrow. If you want to talk about whatever made you look like a ghost, you could take me for a drink, later?”
It caught him off guard. He turned back, not quite sure what to say. “I… I um...”
“Oh, excuse me… now I’m the one being forward, it’s simpatico, maybe some other…”
“No. No, I’d like that. A drink, yes. How about Schooner’s Wharf? In Key West?”
“On Williams Street?”
“Yeah, they have music and stuff… it’s fun.”
“Okay… eight pm?”
“That would be nice…”
Nice? Jesus, Danny thought, you know how to charm a lady.
“Great. See you later, Danny.”
Amparo walked off to find her friend, leaving Danny to feel equal parts excitement and trepidation at what he had just done. He wanted to have that drink with her, but equally, he knew it was nothing but trouble.
“I thought you were gonna help me cook up some damn tasty ribs…”
Simeon cut through Danny’s thoughts. He had a huge grin on his face, cigar ash cascading from a massive stogie jammed in his teeth, leaving little grey tracks on his black shirt and white priest’s collar.
“How could I miss that? Let’s go, big man.”
“You all right, Brother D? You look a little… I dunno… preoccupied?” Simeon turned his head to watch Amparo catch up with her friend, turning back to Danny. He had an arch to his eyebrow.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a man of God?”
; “Hell, yeah, and one who has taken a vow of chastity with it, too. But, sometimes, I can feel a little envy. I mean, God made us in his image, didn’t he? Even the weaker parts…”
“You’re the second person to tell me that recently.”
“Really? You been having philosophical conversations behind my back? I’m hurt, Brother D!”
Simeon’s deep, throaty laugh warmed Danny over, leaving him feeling a bit more like himself.
“Come on. I’ll help you cook and eat those ribs.”
The next few hours were spent over a hot barbecue, alternately basting and turning pork rib over the coals, laughing, chatting and enjoying a Dr Pepper with his friend, the priest. The laughter was long and genuine. The families were nice, and the food was tasty. Eventually, Danny had to admit he was having a good time. As the light turned in the sky above them, the crowds ebbed away, and Danny found himself at a picnic table. Father Simeon was nursing a beer while he finished his plate of sauce-laden ribs.
“Okay, I give in. Why did you invite me here, Sim?” Danny licked a bit of sauce off his top lip.
“Brother D, you think you have this religion thing all tied up. You think it’s all about oppression and rules. Brainwashing, making people behave through fear…”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“And I promised you a look into a different version to that. Every single person turned up here today to do a little bit of good. We need a lot of money to fund a day care centre for those in need. Yes, they had fun. Yes, they got great ribs, a little dance, played some games, but they also put their hands in their pockets, and they gave money. Money that the St Thomas More boys will use to build that new centre to help families who are living with the challenge of Alzheimer’s. That might just seem like charity to you, but if people didn’t have the nudge from their church or priest, they might not make that little bit of effort. They might not look to do a little iddy bit of good in this world.”
As Simeon finished, a young woman accompanied by a much older woman approached them.
“We came to say goodbye, Simeon.”
“Martha, Martha, thank you. Thank you for coming and thank you for bringing this lovely creature here with you.”
The lady was really old, Danny thought. He looked at her trying to place an age for her, settling on late eighties, at the very least.
Simeon took her hand. “Did y’all have a beautiful day?’
“I certainly did, suh. I certainly did. You know, I once had a son, young man, looked just like you. He’s not a good man like you are. No, suh, he’s in the wind, never payin’ no mind to his Momma… Can you believe it? In this day and age? No respec’. I get no respec’.”
“Oh, now, ma’am. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, right now, thinkin’ on what he done, probably making his way back home to say sorry to you.”
“My ass. Excuse my tongue, Preacher, but he’s a sorry, no good wastrel… I ever see him again, I’ll give him a piece of my mind instead o’ a piece o’ pie.”
Simeon gathered her into a bear hug, his huge frame threatening to swallow up the little woman. “Never mind, never mind. The lord loves you just as much, anyway, even if you are angry at your son. You go have a good night’s rest now… go on…”
Martha also said her goodbyes, taking the old lady off towards a people carrier.
Simeon sat back down, taking a long pull from his beer as he did so. Danny took a moment before he said what was on his mind.
“I get where you are coming from, Sim, I do. But what puzzles me is the blind faith. The blind acceptance religious people have about their world and their God. I mean, if God loves us so much and is so benevolent, why do we even need a centre for Alzheimer’s? Why do we have any disease at all? If he created all of us, why bother with the stuff that causes us so much pain?”
“It is supposed to be a planet of free will, Danny. We don’t just get to live it up all the time. We are sentient, conscious beings… we have to make our own choices. God shows us what’s possible when we make the right ones. Helping all those families cope with the loss of a loved one who still happens to be living and breathing right in front of them, that’s gotta be one of our better endeavours… and if we do it because our church encouraged us to… that’s religion at work, right there, my man. I know I appreciate it.”
“You would, you’re a priest. It gives you a little feedback from the congregation, right? See them turn up here. Bet you never hear anything back from God when you’re praying…”
“Brother D, that’s where you’re wrong. These people showing up is God answering my prayers. And you know how I know that fo’ sure? Because that little lady cussing out her wastrel son… That’s my momma, and I’m the supposed wastrel she thinks she never sees. She don’ know if it’s Tuesday or Tishomingo. And I sure as hell need help dealing with the heartbreak of that every single day.”
It was all Danny could do to drop his eyes to the ground, regretting every word he had said to someone who was the closest thing he’d had to an actual friend for a very long time.
20
Simple Truths
“They’re going to rob you.”
Ines Zedillo was looking incredulous, despite being a vision in white linen. The apple martini was paused halfway between the table and her lips.
Harkness enjoyed the moment. He liked that he’d managed to cut through her studied ‘sangfroid’ with his little revelation. They were sitting at a corner table at Azul, one of Miami’s top restaurants, where you needed a bit of pull to snag a table, and even more to get a quiet one.
He deliberately took a sip of his own drink, an Old Fashioned, milking the pause in the conversation for full dramatic effect.
“Stop fucking with me, Harkness. What do you mean, ‘rob me’?”
“What do you think it means? They are going to steal your money at that big holy Joe bollocks they are holding next month, the one where they launder a shit load of cash for you. They are going to blag it and try and put the blame on someone else… the Dominicans, the Mafia, whoever the fuck you Mexicans hate most this week.”
“That would be the president…”
“He’s not worth your energy. But there it is. That is what they are going to try and do.”
“How do they even think they could get away with it? Muy loco… Madre di Dios.”
“Because June Cardell has asked me to sort it. And I know someone good enough to help me do it.”
And there it was, the delicious hook in Harkness’s tale for Señora Zedillo. He knew that by being honest with her, she would listen to him for real.
“There is a lot of face to be lost here, Ines. People would think you’d misplaced your balls if this were to happen. But, as I told you the last time I saw you, I can help.”
Zedillo set her glass on the table with meticulous care. She smoothed down her skirt and then turned slowly to look Harkness full in the face. “And why on earth should I trust you, Harkness? Porque? Eh?”
“Because I think we could both benefit. I can help them pull off the robbery and then return the money to you. We make a deal. You tell your ‘Barrio’ buddies that they managed to make off with more than they actually did while you and I walk into the sunset a little happier and richer. That’s why…”
She snorted, derision obvious in her tone and her face. “You are a more foolish cabrón than I gave you credit for. Chingate, amigo. Stealing from my own bosses? It would be easier to get away with killing that pendejo Trump than to steal from mi familia…”
“Except are they familia, sweetheart? They act like they are because they climbed out of the same shithole, but you had the brains and knew how to put their money in a nice orderly pile for them up here in Miami. How long, though? How long before one of your bosses has a son or a daughter who covets the old Yanqui lifestyle? Wants to walk down South Beach, stay in fancy suites at The Delano, and eat dinner in places like this? How old are you, Ines? Fifty-five? Your clock is ticking. Don’t t
ell me you haven’t got a little stash growing somewhere in the background. A little early-retirement fund. I can top it off nicely for you, you can hand the reins over to some younger, meaner Culiacán dog…”
Ines dabbed at her lips delicately with her napkin, gently folding it, placing it to the side of her martini glass. She reached for her handbag. Keeping her hands under the tables, she pulled a Smith and Wesson 686 revolver from it and sat forward to push the muzzle of the gun into Harkness’s crotch.
“Oye, pendejo. You never, and I mean nunca, ask a lady her age. And never forget who you are dealing with here. I was once a Culiacán dog. That blood runs in my veins and means more to me that any loco plan some fool like you might bring me. As for money, yes, I am planning for my future, and yes, I might just take advantage of this situation. But never forget, you are dealing with Ines Zedillo. You will be my little British Bulldog. Set it up, keep me informed, and if you so much as yank on the leash I’m putting on you, I will skin you alive before I kill you.”
“Last night. Florida City. Counting house. You lost some money, a few barrio boys who will only be able to drink soup through a straw for the next few months. Sound familiar? I bet it does, sweetheart. That’s how deep I am into your little organisation up here in Florida. You didn’t even see me coming.”
Harkness calmly drained his glass before standing up, leaving her gun pointing at his chair and a look of surprise across her face.
“I want forty percent of the take. You get the rest, however much you declare to your bosses is up to you. For that, I’ll deliver the Cardells and my thief into the bargain. You can skin them alive and post them back to Mexico, for all I care… and next time you pull a gun on me, be prepared to use it, Ines.”
Harkness could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, pretty sure that she was already planning ways to kill him along with the Jesus freaks.
