by Glenn, Roy
"So what happened?"
"I wasn’t there. But I heard Cassandra tell the story so many times, at times I feel like I was right there with her."
"If you were with her, you would have saved her like you just did for me. I thought I was about to die."
"Now you understand why I try not to involve you in any of this. If I had the slightest idea that anything like this was gonna happen, I wouldn’t have brought you with me. But this was supposed to be a quiet business lunch between legitimate businessmen. I don’t think I could live with myself if something happened to you because of my business."
"You blame yourself for her death?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it was my fault. She was murdered over something somebody felt I was responsible for. I couldn’t take it if that happened to you."
"That may be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me. But go on. Tell me how she got shot."
"She was going to do a deal at some warehouse, but I had a bad feeling about it so I sent Bobby to follow her."
"Why didn’t you go?"
"Because I gave her my word that I would let her handle her business; and I promised not to follow her. But she didn’t say anything about Bobby so I sent him. Anyway, Bobby saw six men in police vests get out of their cars and go in the building. Shit was about to get wild inside," Black said and thought about the story he’d heard Shy tell so many times.
When the police opened fire, Shy pulled out one of her guns and began shooting as she ran to the table. Then Orlando, who she was doing the deal with, grabbed the case with the money and ran to the steps. "This way, Shy!" She followed Orlando up some steps to a window that led to a fire escape. When he opened the window he was shot immediately. Shy hid behind a large box against the wall as a cop entered the building through the window. He aimed his weapon, looking left in her direction and then to the right. As he turned back, Shy came out of hiding and fired twice. The first shot grazed his temple; the second shot hit him in the chest. The cop fell to the ground and dropped his gun, but was wearing a bulletproof vest. Shy was glad that she didn’t have to kill him.
Shy picked up the case with the money and placed it on the fire escape. "Freeze!" another cop yelled from the top of the steps. Shy turned and pointed her gun at the cop. He fired, hitting Shy in her upper-right chest, in the shoulder area. She returned fire as she fell and hit him with one shot to the head. Shy struggled to get to her feet and went out the window. She picked up the case and proceeded down the fire escape. When she got to the ground she started running toward the street. She hit the corner and two cops fell in behind her and opened fire. But Black didn’t think CeCe needed to know all that.
"Anyway, long story short, Cassandra ended up having to shoot her way outta there until Bobby picked her up."
"Sounds like an old Pam Grier movie from the seventies," CeCe commented.
"After that, seeing her shot like that, knowing that she almost died, it made me realize that I had to get her away from that life before it got her killed. So once she settled her business, we moved down here. I thought she would be safe here, and she was for a while."
"But it didn’t workout that way, did it?"
"No it didn’t."
CeCe got up and went to the closest window. The rain had intensified considerably since she’d gone out to the limo. And the wind was blowing so hard that the windowpanes rattled. She could see the palm trees around the house were bending in the wind. "You think we’ll be all right in here?" CeCe said when she came back in the bathroom.
"I think so. Storms hit these islands all the time. I figure a house like this, as close as it is to the water, was built to take it."
"I’ve never been in a storm like this before. Just the sound of the wind is scary," CeCe said and came and sat close to Black.
As the storm raged outside, Black and CeCe remained in the bathroom and talked. "You know something," CeCe said.
"What’s that?"
"I’m glad we came down here."
"You are," Black said with a curious look on his face.
"I mean other than this, you getting shot and what not; this has really been a good trip."
"Has it really?"
"It really has."
"Other than me getting shot."
"Yes, that and the fact that we’re trapped in a house in the middle of nowhere while a hurricane—"
"Tropical storm."
"Whatever. It’s raining really hard, and the wind is blowing hard enough to shake the house and blow out the windows."
"You forgot about us being stuck in the bathroom."
CeCe looked around. "I don’t know how I could have missed that."
"I can’t explain that either."
"Okay, I admit, things are bad now. They’re pretty fucked up actually. But in spite of all this that we got going on right now, this has given me something I didn’t have before."
"What’s that?"
"For the first time since I’ve known you, you’ve opened up to me."
"I guess getting shot has made me talkative."
"If I had known that was all it took, I would have shot you a long time ago," CeCe said and smiled, but Black didn’t seem to be amused. "I’m only kidding. I would never do anything to hurt you. I hope you know that. I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you."
"You have?" Black asked.
He thought about the fact the he fell in love with Cassandra the first time he saw her and had to work his way into her heart. The same way CeCe was working hard to work her way into his. He found the parallel intriguing.
"Yes, I have. From the minute you walked up and Angelo introduced you as Batman. From that minute on, I was hooked."
"I didn’t know that."
"It’s true. But I’ll tell you something, it’s not just what we’ve been talking about in this house—I don’t know. Maybe it’s the island air or something—I don’t know. But since we’ve been here, you’ve told me things and shown me things about you that have made me understand you better."
"I’m glad this is working for you. At the moment, I wish we’d stayed in New York."
"And believe me, I understand you feeling that way. But like I said, now I have a better understanding of you. Who you are, why you do the things you do, and why you treat me the way you do. And that’s something I don’t think we would have gotten to in New York."
"How do I treat you?"
"You keep me at a distance."
"Do I?"
"You really do, but not all the time. Sometimes I really think you’re feelin’ me the way I’m feelin’ you, and other times you make me feel like I’m just another piece of ass for you to get."
"I didn’t know I made you feel that way. If I do, I’m sorry."
"No need for you to apologize, because now I understand why you keep me at arms length. Why your answer to most things is ‘because it’s for your own good’."
"And why do you think that is?"
"You’re afraid that if I get too close to you, if you let me get too deep into your world that something will happen to me."
"You’re right. That’s it exactly."
"See, I understand that now. See now I know that you do feel something for me. I don’t know what it is. I don’t even think you know what it is you feel for me."
"You’re right about that, too," Black had to admit.
"But it’s something and its real, and that makes me feel good. So, in spite of all this, I’m glad we had this time together."
"I’m glad that you’re glad."
"It’s also made me realize something else—something I’m not so glad about."
"What’s that?"
"Now I know that I have nothing at all to fear from your little shake dancin’, wifey look-a-like."
"You don’t?" Black asked as a look of curiosity and confusion covered his face.
"She’s not the one I have to compete with. My only real competition fo
r your heart is your wife."
"She is?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"I’m asking why you think she is."
"You are still very much in love with her. I can tell by the look on your face when you talk about her. I think when I ask you what you’re thinking about and you say nothing, you’re actually thinking about her. So my problem is how do I compete with a dead woman? How do I get past all the memories you cling to about her and the love the two of you had? How do I get past you thinking that if I get too close that what happened to her will happen to me, and you feeling like her dying, was your fault? How do I get past all that?"
"I don’t know. I guess that’s something only you can answer for yourself."
"I guess you’re right. But I love you, so I guess I’ll find out. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but you’re mine, Mike Black, and I’m not going to let you get away," CeCe said and smiled.
Chapter Fourteen
Black held out his hand and CeCe sat down on the floor with him. "Call Jamaica . . . see what’s takin’ him so long," Black said. CeCe picked up Kevon’s phone and dialed the number.
When Jamaica answered, he explained to CeCe that they had run off the road and got stuck in a ditch. Once they got the truck out, it had gotten dark, which made it harder to see. They continued on only to get stuck again. This time the culprit was a large tree that had fallen across the road.
"We’re tryin’ to move the tree out the road," Jamaica said. "I send Alan to find help. He has come back with two men with axes. But with the rain, all we have to see by is light from the cars. It is going to take us a while to cut and move the tree."
CeCe looked at Black, and he knew from her expression that what Jamaica was telling her wasn’t good. "I know you’re doing the best you can."
"How is Mike?"
"He’s okay. I’m trying to keep him comfortable."
"Tell him to hold on. We are doing our best to get to him."
"I will," CeCe said and ended the called. She looked at Black and told him what Jamaica said.
"He didn’t say how long he thought it would be, did he?"
"No, and I didn’t ask him." CeCe got up to stretch. She walked around the small space, and then went into the hallway. She could still hear the wind and rain outside. At times, it felt like a freight train was running through the house.
CeCe went back in the bathroom and lit one of the other candles she had found.
"Where are you going?" Black asked.
"I’m going to look around. See how much damage there is."
"You aren’t thinkin’ ’bout goin’ outside, are you?"
"No, but with Jamaica talkin’ about trees being down, I want to see if there are any around here. You know, blocking the way in. Holla if you need me," CeCe said and started to leave.
Black pointed to the gun on the sink. "Take that with you."
CeCe picked up the gun and left him laying there. As she walked down the hall, gun in one hand, candle in the other, she thought again about whether or not she could use it. She’d never fired a gun before. In fact, this was only the second time she’d actually held one in her hand.
When she made it to the living room, CeCe stood and listened to the wind slam around the house and rattle through the chimney. The wind had begun to shriek, and it sounded like a woman screaming. The house creaked and groaned every time a gust hit it. She turned quickly when she heard a crashing sound. The wind had blown open the door, and wind and rain began gushing into the living room, blowing out her candle.
CeCe went to close the door, trying to get a look outside. She couldn’t see much, so she braved the elements long enough to step outside. The wind hit her full-force and pinned her against the house. The rain was cold and hard and stung her face.
CeCe tried to lean into the wind but it held her there. It was very dark, but she could see through squinted eyes that the road leading to the house wasn’t blocked. She pushed herself off the wall, and the wind literally carried her back in the house. CeCe struggled to get the door closed, and then she got a chair and wedged it against the door to keep it closed.
It wasn’t long after that the power came on—went out—came on—and then went out again. Although it was dark, she could see enough to pick up her candle and make her way back down the hall to the bathroom.
"I was startin’ to get worried," Black said as CeCe reclaimed her spot.
"You weren’t thinking about coming after me, were you?"
"If you had been gone much longer, I would have. What did you find out?"
"I had to go outside to be sure, but the road leading in here isn’t blocked."
"That’s good. At least they’ll be able to get to the house when they get here."
"It’s bad out there, baby. It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna letup anytime soon."
"Are you all right?"
"I’m okay; just a little scared, that’s all. I’m just worried about you and when Jamaica will get here," CeCe said and got up again.
"We’ll be all right. Jamaica will make it here and everything will be fine," he said and tried to move, but it hurt.
"Are you all right?" CeCe asked.
"I’m okay."
"You sure?"
"Really . . . I’m okay."
"Was Cassandra murdered here on the island?"
"No. We had moved back to the city and had been back for about a year before it happened."
"If she was safe here, why did you go back to New York?"
"Her getting back to New York, I really didn’t have much choice in. She was never really happy here. She missed the city and always wanted to go back. But I was against it, and since there was a warrant for her arrest because of the incident I told you about, I had a good enough reason to keep her here. To keep her safe."
"So what happened to change all that?"
"She was kidnapped, and they brought her to New York."
"Oh," CeCe said, and it was obvious that she wasn’t expecting or ready for that answer.
"Something else Bobby didn’t tell you, huh?"
"Yes, and me and Bobby Ray are gonna have to have a talk about that as soon as we get back. He is really falling down on his job."
"That’s two points for Bobby in my book."
"So what happened? How’d she get kidnapped?"
"You really want to hear this?"
"Yes, I do."
"I forgot . . . me opening up, right?"
"It may be a window into the life I claim I want to live." CeCe started to say the life she was going to live when she became Mrs. Mike Black, but she didn’t want to shake him up.
"Okay. It all began one weekend when Nick was down here. Me and Cassandra had just had a fight about her wanting to go back to the city."
"So she got herself kidnapped?"
"No. You want to hear this or not?"
"I’m sorry. I’ll keep my jokes to myself. You go on. Nick was down here and—"
"They were at the club we own down here when Nick thought he saw somebody he knew. The guy turned out to be an undercover DEA agent. Next thing you know, one of them looked at Nick, took out his gun and shot the DEA agent in the head. When he turned and fired on Nick, Cassandra grabbed the pump."
CeCe sat riveted as Black told her the story of how Cassandra rose up, took aim, fired at and dropped one of the men.
"But with her back turned, she didn’t see one of the men get up. Shots were fired, and they ended up taking Cassandra hostage."
CeCe looked at Black and all she could do was shake her head. It was a fantastic story—one that she couldn’t imagine herself being in. She got kidnapped thinking she was Pam Grier again, CeCe thought but thought better of saying.
She wondered if she had been in that position, would she have grabbed the pump and come up blasting or would she have hit the floor and covered her head until the shooting stopped. CeCe looked at the gun that she had taken from Black before she ran out in the rain to get the c
ar and thought, What if?
What if somebody was out there waiting? Would she have the courage to raise the weapon, aim and pull the trigger? She didn’t know, and there was a part of her that didn’t want to know, and glad that she didn’t have to find out.
Chapter Fifteen
Mike Black
Look at her; sitting there by candlelight with Kevon’s gun on the sink next to her. Her hair was a mess and the little bit of makeup that she does wear, was gone from being out in the rain. That beautiful dress was now covered with my blood and looks like she slept in it. Still, Cameisha Collins was a beautiful woman.
We had been there for hours waiting for Jamaica to come rescue us. Damn, I hate the idea of that, having to be rescued I mean. Even though he would tell you different, it only happened one other time in my life, and that was by Bobby, so that didn’t count. But CeCe saved my life. If she hadn’t been here, I would’ve been dead when Jamaica made it.
Which was another thing I wondered; where the fuck was he? I knew he was trying to make it through a bad tropical storm and on a rough road, but damn, he needed to hurry. No matter what, CeCe was great company. She’d always been. And like I said, I owed her my life.
I remember saying to Cassandra once, "They say relationships that begin under extreme circumstances never last."
And she told me, "Maybe for other people, but not us."
Was this our extreme circumstance and would it have the same effect of binding us together the way it had for me and Cassandra? Once again, I found the parallel interesting.
Cassandra.
CeCe was right about one thing: I was still in love with Cassandra. I thought about what she said, "How do I compete with a dead woman? How do I get past all the memories you cling to about her, and the love the two of you had?"
I told her that it was something that she had to work out for herself. But that was wrong. Wrong for me to say it to her; wrong because it wasn’t true. It was something I needed to work out.
Cassandra is dead.
She’s never coming back—I know that.
But at times, I act like she was just gone on a long trip and would be back any day now, so I couldn’t be hooked up too seriously with another woman. But that was a fantasy I unconsciously chose to cling to.
