Private Deceptions

by Glenn, Roy

  Without answering my question, she waited for the bartender to return with her drink. I thought about asking my question again, then I decided to rephrase it. "Why don’t you like her, Mrs. Childers?"

  "Because she’s a dizzy air head bitch, who thinks she’s the shit, but she’s not. She’s just a stupid air headed bitch, who’s so caught up in her own quasi bourgeois lifestyle, that she don’t know her ass from a hole in the ground. The fake bitch."

  "So you don’t like her, huh?"

  "No, Nick, I hate the fake ass bitch."

  "What does she do for a living?"

  "She works for Armstrong Direct."

  "What’s that?"

  "It’s some bullshit marketing firm. She’s some type of bullshit director."

  "Hmm."

  "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, hmm."

  "You know what I mean, Nick, don’t be funny."

  "I mean your brother seems to have a thing for professional women with lofty positions. They even look alike."

  "That’s just how Jake is."

  I picked up my pictures. "Good night, Mrs. Childers."

  "You’re leaving?"

  She didn’t want me to go.

  Maybe she wanted me?

  What’s more likely is that she’s just lonely and wants to talk. "I’m not gonna find your brother sittin’ around here."

  "Where are you goin’ now?"

  "Goin’ to see Lisa Ellison."

  "I have a better idea," Mrs. Childers said and stood up.

  I got up, too. "What’s that?"

  "Come ride with me."

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  We rode in silence while Mrs. Childers drove us nowhere fast. She drove out of the city, across the Tappanze Bridge to a small house in Nyack. When we went inside the house, the first thing that hit me was the smell. It didn’t smell bad; it was more like the stale odor of some place that had been closed up for awhile. The living room was well furnished and none of it looked like it had much use. Mrs. Childers turned on some music and went around the house turning on ceiling fans and opening windows.

  "This is my little hide away," she said, opening the French doors that led to the deck.

  "Hide away?"

  She smiled and went out on the deck, seemingly to avoid my question. So I followed her outside and asked it again. She looked irritated by my question as well as my presence on the deck. "I come out here to get away."

  "Get away from what, Mrs. Childers?"

  "More to get away from all the stress and pressures, you know, and be by myself. It’s so peaceful out here, it gives me a chance to relax and think."

  "Bullshit." I said to myself. "Yes, It is very peaceful."

  She went back in the house and I followed behind her. "Can I get you a drink?"

  "Thank you. Do you have Johnnie Walker Black?"

  "No, will Hennessy do?"

  "Hennessy is fine."

  I sat on the couch and watched her as she poured. She looked in my direction, but she dropped her eyes when she saw I was looking at her. She handed me my drink and sat down across from me and started to talk. So we drank Hennessy, quite a bit of Hennessy and laughed and talked for hours. Talk about nothing, really. Mostly a lot of reminiscing about her, Jake, and Chésará growing up dirt poor in Philly. "Dirt poor and on lock down. That was us, couldn’t go anywhere. Except this one night I snuck out and I went over my girl Tina’s house. Naturally she was shocked to see me. She says she was gettin’ ready to go ride with Beverly. I couldn’t stand that bitch but her and Tina were cool and I didn’t have nothing else to do. So we’re standin’ outside waitin’ when this burgundy Dodge Daytona hack back pulls up. I never forgot that car," she paused. "Beverly was sittin’ in the back. I don’t know who the two chicks in the front seat were. But I jumped in the car anyway. They said they were goin’ to get some weed."

  "You smoke weed, Mrs. Childers?"

  "Every once and a while," she said and raised her glass. "This is my drug of choice. Back then never. I had only heard other people talk about it. But I was excited about tryin’ it, cause you know I never did anything. I was gonna be in trouble when I got home anyway might as well go for it all."

  "You might as well have some stories to talk about when you’re back on lock down."

  "You know what I’m sayin’," she smiled. "Anyway, I started chokin’ the first time I hit it and didn’t want anymore." Mrs. Childers laughed and got up to fix us another drink. While she was gone I got up, took a quick look around and quickly reclaimed my seat. When she returned with our drinks Mrs. Childers handed me mine and sat down next to me. We talked our way through that drink and then the conversation turned. "I remember the first time I caught Chilly with another women. I was so mad I wanted to kill him. We were at a party at one of his friend’s houses. It was the usual dope boy party. People doin’ drugs, listening to music, and having sex all over the place. The place was packed, and it was so hot in there and the air wasn’t doin’ any good. After awhile I noticed that I couldn’t find Chilly. So I went looking for him. I looked outside, didn’t see him. Then I started going from room to room, that’s when I saw him coming out of a room with some ho. Both of them still putting their clothes back on."

  "The least they could have done was get dressed before they came out of the room."

  "I thought so too."

  "What did you do?"

  "I slapped the shit outta him, cursed both of them out and left."

  "That was it?"

  "No. Chilly ran after me, and started with the, you know, ‘Baby I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see that, she didn’t mean nothing to me’ and all that shit."

  "The usual."

  "But I was young, stupid, and in love. A deadly combination. So I bought it, I went back inside with him, and everything was cool. We hung out the rest of the night like two lovebirds. Until most of the people left. So there I am standing by the kitchen, right." She lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke in my direction. "Chilly was sitting on the couch. So I waved to him and smiled. He got up, walked over to me, and back handed me down to the floor. He yelled for me to get up, I tried to crawl away from him, but I couldn’t. He grabbed me and pulled me up by my hair. This time he punched me in the face. He kept on punching me. I don’t know how many times he hit me. Then he stopped. He looked at me and said ‘bitch don’t you ever raise your hand no higher than your waist to me,’ and he walked away. Here’s the funny part."

  "There’s a funny part?"

  "So there I am lying on the floor, crying, face swollen and bleedin’. Blood all over my clothes. People walking by me. The only one who helped me was that same ho he came out the room with. She helped me up off the floor, took me into the same room they were in, and cleaned the blood off my face. She even gave me some clothes to put on. After awhile Chilly knocked on the door, wantin’ to know if I’m ready to go home."

  "I guess I don’t have to ask if you went with him."

  "What else could I do? I was scared to death of him. On our way home he was just as nice to me like nothing ever happened."

  "Why do you stay with him?"

  "Please, Nick, where am I goin’? What am I gonna do? I tried to get away before and he always comes after me. There’s no telling what he’ll do if I try it again."

  "When are you gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on, Mrs. Childers?"

  "I have told you everything, Nick."

  "I don’t think so. You’re lying about something, or at best you’re not tellin’ me everything."

  "Can’t you just listen to what I say without trying to read something into it? But no, you have to analyze every word I say? Can’t you stop being a detective for awhile? Can’t you just hold me?" She moved closer to me and put her head on my shoulder. I felt her heart pounding along with her hand on my chest. I wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind so I put my arm around her. After awhile she fell asleep. I sat there holding her for awhile.
Suddenly she jerked away from my embrace and grabbed a pillow from the couch. Maybe she can’t stand to be held either.

  While she was asleep I searched the house. After I searched the bedroom I took the sheet off the bed. When I turned around, I was startled to see her silhouette leaning against the door. The light from the hall seemed to cling to each curve of her body. "Are you lookin’ for something, Nick?"

  "I was just getting something to cover you with." I held up the sheet. "You were asleep," I said as she walked toward me.

  "I was. But I’m awake now." She stopped in front of me. I thought about trying to kiss her. "I don’t think we’ll need this." She took the sheet out of my hand and let it drop to the floor. I could feel the warmth of her body. She looked up at me and exhaled. "Besides, it’s time we start back to the city."

  * * *

  Chapter Twelve

  I looked at Wanda. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. She had stopped taking notes awhile ago. "Wanda."

  "I’m still awake." Wanda answered without opening her eyes. "Where did Rocky go in Soundview?"

  "He stopped at a house on Buckner Blvd. I don’t know what he went there for, he was only inside for two minutes."

  "Where’d he go then?"

  "Back to his spot. I followed him there and talked to him."

  "Did you find out anything?" Wanda yawned.

  "You know, we can stop for awhile if you want to, Wanda. I can tell you’re exhausted."

  "I’m all right, Nick, really. I just need a quick shower and a cup of coffee and I’ll be all right. So why don’t you make another pot of coffee while I take a shower."

  "Okay, Wanda."

  "And, Nick."

  "Yes, Wanda."

  "Please don’t leave."

  "Yes, Wanda."

  "All right now. I’m trusting you."

  While Wanda showered, I made a fresh pot of coffee. While it was brewing I wandered around the house. It was fabulous. "I guess it ain’t just drug dealers who know how to live." It was just a house in the old neighborhood that Wanda had restored in grand style. Sometimes I used to wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t cut out. Not that I regret the choice I made. The way things were, I didn’t want to live like that, but I wonder. Would I be in jail or dead? Or would I be as fortunate as my friends and grow old and respectable in the game?

  I was starting to feel a little tired myself, so I poured myself a cup of coffee. I went back into the living room and stared out the large picture window. Wanda returned to the living room and stood next to me. She looked at me and put her arms around me. Maybe I had that, ‘I need a hug’ look on my face. "What are you thinking about?" she asked.

  "Just thinkin’ about the way things turned out."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You, Wanda. All this. You’re a successful lawyer. You’re all so respectable now. Black and Bobby married. Shit, Bobby’s a father."

  "He’s a good father too. You should talk to him."

  I chose to ignore her comment.

  "Freeze walkin’ around in a suit like a legitimate business man."

  "That one wasn’t easy."

  "I can imagine."

  "Cuisine is a nice place. I thought Mike was crazy when he told me that he wanted Freeze to run the restaurant. But Freeze stepped up," Wanda continued.

  "I don’t think he’s happy about it."

  "Maybe. He may not be happy, but what he is, is fiercely loyal to Black."

  "Unlike me, right?"

  "You tell me, Nick? You’re the only one who can answer that question."

  I walked away from the window and sat down. Wanda followed behind me and reclaimed her spot on the couch.

  "Regrets?" Wanda asked.

  "No. Not really. I mean, the way things were. Everyday was the same, more violence and more murder."

  "The only difference is, your life didn’t change. You did your violence and murder for the government."

  "Yeah, right."

  "Well, it’s true. The Army recognized your skills. Enforcer, soldier, killer, assassin. Call it what you want to, Nick. But they programmed you with their objectives and put you right back to work. But you see, things changed here after André. We were out of the drug business and we started moving into more legitimate businesses."

  "That’s the part I didn’t see coming. When Black said we were getting out of the drug business, I thought it would just be gambling and women and he’d just go right on high jacking trucks and robbin’ warehouses. ’Cause let’s face it, Black was a thief." I started laughing.

  "Always was." Wanda joined me; laughing so hard she almost spilled her coffee.

  "Damn the nigga could steal."

  Although Black made most of his money on gambling, he was always on the lookout for something he could steal. His preference was high jacking trucks. He knew a woman who worked as a waitress at a truck stop. She would feed Black information. Using her feminine charms she would find out from truckers what they were going to be carrying, and what route they were going to take. This was the most important factor in his plan. With that information, Black would set it up so the truck would have to stop and then we’d have them. His favorite was a half-naked white woman in distress. You know, short shirt, titties hangin’ out all over the place. What man could resist a white woman in distress? Once the driver was out of the cab, either me, Jamaica or Bobby would come up on the driver from behind and take it him.

  Once the driver was secure, Bobby would drive the truck away. Which didn’t go smoothly at first, but it got better as Bobby learned how to handle the big rigs. Now, once Bobby was gone in the truck, Black would always ask, "Is that your rig or the companies?" If it was the driver’s rig, Black would tell the driver where he could find it, if not, he would sell the truck for parts.

  Even though he didn’t like doin’ it, Black would sometimes rob warehouses. But only if it presented a tempting enough prize, and it definitely had to be minimal risk involved. Black was never one to take risks that would put himself or his organization at risk. "Remember, no risk," Black would say before we went on any job. "Bail ain’t cheap." The reason that he didn’t like robbin’ warehouse was because; "Time waitin’ to load the truck was time waitin’ to get caught," he’d say. And gettin’ caught was never on his list of things to do.

  Black had gotten some information that there was a warehouse that offered just such an opportunity. His first thought was to wait and see if his informant could give us a target to hit, but when that didn’t happen, Black decided that it was too much money involved to pass on, so it was on.

  The information came to from a woman who worked as a routing supervisor at the warehouse. Black got his hooks into her because of her favorite pass time. Gambling. She owed Black five grand, so one Sunday afternoon, around dinnertime; Black and I paid her a visit.

  After a very filling meal, Ayana was a great cook; she set it out for us. "Black, look, I know I owe you some money. And to be honest with you, I just ain’t got it." Which caused Black to put his gun on the table. Which wasn’t any big deal, ’cause Black would never shot a woman. If that became necessary he’d get me or Freeze to do it for him. "But I do have something that maybe worth something to you."

  "And what might that be, Ayana?" Black asked.

  "Yow know I work at a warehouse in Jersey. Well there’s a shipment full of electronic equipment comin’ in. You know, flat screen televisions, DVD’s boom-boxes and digital cameras, just come in from China. After the shipment passes though customs and all that shit, it’s taken to this warehouse and I schedule it to be shipped out to locations around the country. My position gives me the inside track on what’s in house, and what’s worth taking."

  After making sure that he wasn’t playing in anybody else’s backyard, Black formed a plan. He got her to draw a map of the warehouse and to identify the good stuff from the junk by marking the target pallets with a piece of black tape. This saved us a lot of time. Black simply walked around
and told me, ’cause I learned to drive the forklift, which one to pick up, while Bobby took over the security shack at the gate and Jamaica stood guard at the door.

  By one o’clock the truck was half full and everything was going smoothly until the forklift died on me. Black and I looked around for another forklift. "You find one?" Black asked.

  "No," I told him.

  "Try to get this one working." I tried everything I knew, which wasn’t much, to get it running.

  "We’re wasting time, Nick, get down from there. Jamaica, come here," Black said as he took one gun out of his pocket and took off his coat. "We’re gonna have to do this the hard way. I saw some hand jacks while I was looking for another forklift. We’ll each get one." Black looked at his watch, "It’s a little after one. I want to be out of here by three. We got about two hours to get as much as we can and get out of here."

  We all got busy, we we’re done by two-thirty. Black and Bobby left in the truck while Jamaica and I followed in the car. We’d been driving for a half-hour maybe when we passed through a small town. Once we got a little ways out town Bobby began to slow down and came to a complete stop. "What wrong now?" Jamaica asked.

  After a while Black came to the car, "What’s goin’ on, Black?" Jamaica asked.

  "There’s a road block. We passed a bar a little while ago, there just out here harassing drunks. I don’t think they’ll bother us, but to be on the safe side, Nick, you wait ‘til I’m gone and make your way around through those trees just across from them. If Bobby opens his door, fire a couple of shots in the air over the truck. Then you get away from there in case they shot back. But I’m betting that these local will just take cover. That should give Bobby a chance to drive off."

  "What if they come after you?" I asked.

  "Then we’ll bail," Black said as he walked away.

  Once Black was gone I got out and headed for the trees. I took up a position across from the road block and waited for Bobby to get there. The cop talked to Bobby for less than a minute before letting him drive on without incident. Jamaica and I weren’t that lucky. When it came our turn to go through the roadblock they made us get out. The cops searched us and looked in the car, but not closely enough to find the guns under the back seat. Then they made Jamaica take the breath test and walk a straight line, even though either of us had been drinking. After that twenty-minute ordeal, Jamaica took off and tried to catch up with Black and Bobby. What we found we’d never saw coming. About twenty miles up the road we saw Black and Bobby walking.