by Boo Walker
“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
“You’re going to get slapped again if you’re not careful.”
“I’m really glad I came.”
“Hush. Now what’s the number?” I gave it to her, and she mentioned they were going to Savannah soon to film a few scenes.
She pulled a tray from under the couch. There was a pile of white powder on it. “Would you care for some?”
“No, thanks.”
She took a little bump using the edge of a credit card and then slid the tray back under the couch.
A knock on the door. Tela stood to answer it. As she did, the belt of her robe came undone, and she turned toward me, revealing a glimpse of her fully nude front—her large breasts and the dark pelt of brown hair below her waist. I tried to divert my eyes, but it wasn’t easy. She reached over and touched my face and slowly covered back up, cinching the belt tight. As she went for the door, I downed the bottle of water and adjusted in my seat, saying over and over to myself, Liz, Liz, Liz, Liz, Liz… I still missed her.
The makeup artist came in with a toolbox. She wore some kind of wild Hollywood hairstylist hairdo and big dangly earrings.
As she went to work with hairspray and a brush, Tela said to her, “He’s a handsome one, isn’t he, Shari? I told you so.”
Shari studied me as if I was a sculpture on display. “He sure is.”
“I haven’t quite been able to sink my teeth into him, but I think I’m getting somewhere. He likes to think he’s hard to get.”
I asked Shari, “Have you ever met a man she doesn’t flirt with?”
“Honey, she flirts with everybody, but I can tell when she really likes someone. I think you’re it. And she gets what she wants. I wouldn’t fight it.”
Tela looked at me. “See.”
I put my palms up. “What am I supposed to do about it?”
That ended up being the wrong question.
Tela hopped up out of her seat and walked over to me. Right in front of Shari, she untied her belt and opened her robe to show me the goods again. She sat on my lap, facing me, her robe flapping loosely to her sides. “You’re a big boy. I think you know what you’re supposed to do.”
“I don’t want to mess up your hair.” I looked over at Shari. Tela snapped my head back with her hands. “Don’t worry about her. She’s seen it all. Haven’t you?”
“All of it,” Shari responded. “I’ll be outside.”
Tela held my head in her hands and put those blue eyes to use. “See.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about.” Shari was the least of my worries at that moment. Are you kidding me? I barely heard her walk out.
Tela ran her hand along my stubble. “I kind of wish you were playing Chad Rourke’s role. You’d be wonderful in front of a camera. So charming. We could make a great movie together. You can’t fake energy like this. Let me take you back to Hollywood, show you what I mean.”
“I don’t think so, honey. I’m flattered but I don’t know if I could handle it.”
She lowered her voice and whispered, “Well, you’re mine until I say otherwise. You understand me?”
Well, I understood, but it was complicated. I tried to summon all the good in me, all the lessons I’d learned in church growing up, and I tried to say, “Tela, get off. I’m not interested.” But damn if it wasn’t difficult. I couldn’t say it. I dug deeper, and just as some words like that started to leave my mouth, she had her lips to mine and…
Another knock. She gave me a peck on the cheek and stood up. Once she had collected herself, she went to the door. When Jack walked in, I hadn’t quite pulled it together.
“You’re here early,” he accused, glaring at me.
“The drive was shorter than I remembered.”
“Uh-huh.”
I probably looked like I had just climbed out of a clothes dryer. I crossed my legs.
“Where’s Ronnie?” I asked.
“Couldn’t make it. He’s hanging out with that new girl. A schoolteacher. He says he’s falling in love.”
“That won’t last,” I said.
“I guess it happens to everybody eventually.” Jack turned to Tela. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“A little hot and bothered. If you’d come ten minutes later, I might have gotten lucky.” I pretended like I didn’t hear that, and Jack didn’t say anything, either.
She asked, “Are you still having your soirée tomorrow night?”
“Of course we are. I don’t run from hurricanes.” He sat on the other side of the couch and said, “I have a favor to ask of you. I brought someone. He’s at the gate. Wanted to see if you would call his name in.”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“Kado.”
“That grimy little bastard! There’s no way.”
“Do this for me, please. He feels terrible and wants to apologize. He’s a good friend. He made a mistake.” Of course, they were referring to the incident in the pool. I didn’t know whose side to take on that one. Tela could certainly stir up trouble.
She wasn’t happy about it but made a phone call, and Kado came in the door several minutes later. Jack had been quite persuasive. I didn’t like it at all. Jack had gone out of his way for Kado, and something like that would make him feel bad about ratting. It might make him crack. Tela kind of accepted Kado’s apology. Shari came back in and finished her makeup, and then we followed them to the set.
Ten cameras, fifty-something members of cast and crew, and a group of spectators. We spoke with her agent and Jason Corey. Tela introduced us to the director. The movies I’d seen of his weren’t bad, but he was a strange dude and as artsy-fartsy as I’d ever seen. An Afghan shawl was wrapped around his neck, which looked odd with his cargo shorts. Not to mention the heat.
Tela went over toward the river in front of the cameras. She wore an old frock, still looking spectacular. Shari did some last-minute touch-ups to her hair. Someone let her sip from a drink. From his stance near one of the cameras, the director told everyone to be quiet.
We stood next to Jason, who explained what was going on. He whispered like we were waiting for a golfer to hit his ball. “Tela’s just traveled back in time and is trying to figure out where she is. A ghost that they’ll draw in later will come off the river and begin to chase her. In a second, you’ll hear a scream blast out of those speakers.” He pointed up into a tree. “It’s all she has to work with. It’s supposed to help her find her fear.”
The director raised his hand and called action. Tela walked to the water, looking out across the marshland. She turned around, as if trying to find her bearings. The scream came and made us all jump. It sounded like an alien screaming through a tube compressor with a hint of reverb.
Tela jerked around toward the sound and took off in the opposite direction. The director cut the take, and with a strong English accent yelled, “1852, Tela, 1852! You just traveled 150 years back in time. You did more than go down the freaking mountain, which is what you’re impressing upon me now. Where are you today?”
Tela glanced at me and headed back out in front of the cameras. I felt like everyone saw her look my way. The director certainly did and twisted his head toward me.
“Do we have a distraction?” he asked. “I don’t have time for this today. I don’t have time for your little love things.”
“Hardly,” Tela said. “Calm down!”
He glared at us. “I’m sure you’re fine chaps, but I have to ask you to leave. We have a great deal to do today, and I need Tela’s full attention. I’m sorry, gentlemen.”
We looked at each other and then back at the director. I waved my hand. “Sorry to trouble you.”
“No need to apologize. Come ‘round another day.”
“Sorry, boys.” Tela came across the grass. Everyone on the set watched her move. “He thinks he has to babysit me. Can we do it another day?”
“If it’s all right with bossman,” I said.
“That’s funny.�
�� She put her hand on my waist and kissed my lips. It happened fast.
“Now, call me or I’ll be furious. ‘K, darling?”
“We’ll see.” I watched her strut back toward the cameras.
***
“You still claiming you’re not sleeping with her?” Jack asked as we got back to our cars. “You sticking to that?”
“Haven’t seen her since the last time you did.”
“Right.” Jack hopped into his Rover.
Kado and I got into my truck, and we headed back into town. As we drove off, he started saying he couldn’t do this any longer. That Jack didn’t deserve it. My blood was boiling as I listened to him, and it had nothing to do with my brief rendezvous with the woman from Hollywood. I had to choose my words carefully and stay away from calling Kado names and popping him in the face, which is what I really wanted to do.
“You don’t want to go to jail,” I said. “Jack would do the same thing to you, and so would Ronnie. You need to stay strong, buddy.”
“Don’t patronize me. This shit’s not easy.”
“No, it’s not. What you’re feeling right now happens. I see it all the time. Don’t let it get the best of you. Don’t crack at the last minute. You don’t want to go to jail.”
“I don’t wanna be a rat. My dad didn’t raise me to be this way.”
I thought about a poster hanging in our office. It’s a cartoon of a rat with the Superman emblem on his chest. Below him reads, Rats are the real heroes. Kind of a joke but it cracked us up.
I said to Kado, “Just the bad guys call ‘em rats. We call ‘em born-agains. You’re saving your own life. Trust me, your dad would be on your side.”
“My dad wouldn’t want me in a body bag.”
“No one's putting you in a body bag, believe me. We’re all over these guys.”
“I don’t think so. I think he’s figuring it out.”
I snapped my fingers in his face. “Look at me.” I snapped them again and he looked over.
“He’s not figuring it out unless you tell him. You’re one of the best CIs I’ve ever worked with, and I believe in you.” I had to feed him something. “Tonight’s the last time. You don’t have to see them again. You can leave town until the trial.”
“What do you mean ‘the last time?’ ”
“Your work is done. I’m taking over from here. We want you to leave town, take a vacation or something.” I didn’t want to tell him the truth: that we were making arrests tomorrow night.
He didn’t say anything and I turned up the radio. Someone was on NPR jabbering about Henrietta. I didn’t know what was the bigger problem: Kado or this nasty hurricane coming our way.
CHAPTER 31
I was at Jack’s condo the next evening, the night of the bust. I had to be there because he hadn’t told us how the next exchange was going down. Just about our entire field office was in the area. We had two Coast Guard vessels standing by in the harbor. Six radio cars and a SWAT team were in a parking lot a half-mile down Coleman Boulevard, prepared for anything. One group would follow Jack and me to the meet, and, once we had the source, another group would raid the party. Fortunately, half the people on the guest list were already targets of the operation.
We also had people in West Ashley, North Charleston, and John’s Island. Teams also stood by in Atlanta, New Orleans, Houston, and Santa Fe. We needed to make the arrests simultaneously. Otherwise, people would get wind of what was happening and disappear. You’d be amazed at how fast news of raids travels across the country.
Altogether, as Steve had designed it, the arrests would dominate the news outlets in the morning, and the upper echelon of the Drug Enforcement Administration—or “the assholes” as I also like to call them—would be up on their top floors jerking each other off with glee and glory.
It was a little after eight and the guests were trickling in: people from the movie, friends of Jack’s and James King’s, others completely unknown. Quite a few were customers of Jack, Ronnie, and Kado, ones we’d collected information on over the course of the summer. Everyone had been approved by the two large bodyguards in the lobby below. Maybe fifty people so far, drinking champagne, making conversation, nibbling on food. They had no idea how bad their night was about to get.
As Jack had promised, it was one hell of a scene. There were tables with bags of cocaine and pills laid out like party favors. Marijuana joints were stacked like green beans on a platter.
Some interested guests stood around the muted television and waited for the latest updates on the hurricane. James King, the future politician and owner of the Mazyck, was telling a group about the voluntary evacuation that had been put into place and how no one listens to those anymore. Not a drop of rain had fallen, but my knee hurt, so I knew something was coming. My knee forecasts better than any knucklehead on the Weather Channel.
I was standing at one of the tables, filling up on the fine food Kado’s chef from Morph had prepared. The hybrid rock sounds of a Seattle-based band flowed out of the speakers, and I liked it. After eating enough caviar to depopulate an ocean, I moved over toward the large pot of Frogmore Stew. I dipped the ladle in, hauling in a broth full of corn on the cob, shrimp, sausage, and Old Bay seasoning, the aroma rising into the air with the steam.
As I scooped a serving into my bowl, I caught a glimpse of Ronnie. Then I looked at the girl next to him. The sight of her almost made me spill everything onto my shirt. It wasn’t her face that I recognized first, because she had come in disguise. It was the dress she wore that made me look twice: it was the same one she had worn on our date—our only date—and I remember it because she’d looked…well, flaming hot in it. It was a white, bareback kind of thing, cut low and high in all the right places.
Stephanie Lewis had dyed her brown hair blonde, her brown eyes were now blue, and she wore way more makeup than usual; but it was her.
Ronnie spotted me and came over, tugging her hand behind him.
“Trav, I want you to meet someone.” I set the bowl of stew down and wiped my hands.
He said, “This is Eve.”
Her conniving little smile brought out her dimples as she stuck her hand out. I took it reluctantly. It was her, all right. Stephanie was now Eve. Her gold heels could have doubled for stilts.
“It’s a pleasure. I’m Travis.”
“I feel like we’ve met before,” she admitted.
Oh, really, Stephanie? It’s funny that you say that. I said, “Maybe so. My memory is not my strength.”
“Are you an actor, too?” she asked.
“Hardly,” I started. “A friend of Jack’s. So how do you and Ronnie know each other?” I couldn’t wait to hear.
Ronnie stabbed a toothpick into a lobster bite. “It’s kind of unbelievable. I was on the way to teach a lesson at the club, and she waved me down. She had a flat tire and needed help. Being the gentleman that I am—”
“Gentleman?” Stephanie interrupted. “Ha! Nothing like it. I had to walk right in front of your car. You almost hit me.”
“Well, I thought you were one of the those club bunnies trying to hitch a ride. Soon as I got close enough to get a good look, though, I was happy to pull over.”
“You should pull over for anyone, Ronniecakes. I know T.A. would.”
“Who?” Ronnie asked.
“I mean, Travis.” The look of surprise that had been on her face as my real name came out of her mouth told me she had not meant to say it.
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I’m no gentleman.” I made a mental note to never help anyone again. Not without doing a full background check, at least.
Ronnie held out a lobster bite, and she took it with her teeth, smiling at me. She was out of control. We talked and I hated it.
Ronnie excused himself to get drinks, asking if we wanted anything. Stephanie asked for a Mt. Gay and soda. I did the same. More games. That was my damn drink.
“What are you doing, Stephanie?” I asked, once he was out of earsh
ot.
“It’s Eve, and whatever do you mean? I can’t date anybody? You’re not over me yet?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You’re looking at jail time.”
“You’re not going to start threatening me, are you, Travis? Or is it T.A.?”
“This ends now. You tell your friend you’re not feeling well, and you get outta here.” I was watching the room behind her and through the crowd I saw Jack. He was dressed like he’d been planning on what to wear for this night for three weeks. Knowing him, he probably had. He wore linen pants, pressed, and a shirt that few could pull off outside of Ibiza. He was moving our way. Why not? Let’s get everybody together.
“I heard you’ve been tying loose knots,” she continued. “Lost a boat, did you?”
“I want you out of here.”
“C’mon, this is fun. You’re not trying to put my new man in jail, are you?” Stephanie pivoted and looked back toward the room with me as we talked.
“You’ll be the first behind bars,” I whispered. Someone stopped Jack on his way over. Ronnie came back from the bar with drinks, and I knocked the whole thing back. I needed about six more.
Stephanie blurted out, “That’s Tela Davies, isn’t it?” Across the room, carried on angel’s wings, Tela was making her grand entrance.
Let the games begin.
CHAPTER 32
“Yep, that’s Tela,” Ronnie said. “She has a little crush on Trav.”
“Really?” Stephanie squeezed the lime into her drink and dropped the wedge in. “I can see why. He’s cute.”
“Not that cute,” Ronnie came back.
Stephanie put her hand on his arm. “No need to worry, baby. He’s a little too clean-cut for me.” Someone tapped Ron on the shoulder. He turned and began to make conversation with them. Stephanie, standing right next to him, mouthed to me, “I miss you.”
“Get out,” I mouthed back.
She stepped very close to me and whispered in my ear, “I miss you soooo much.” She reached for my zipper and found it quickly, pulling it down masterfully, like a pickpocket lifting a wallet. “Don’t you miss us?”
