by K'wan
“If this Mad Dog is a local problem, what did he do to get on the radar of the FBI?” Theodore asked. His curiosity was now as piqued as everyone else’s.
“Well, I’m really not supposed to be talking about it, because it’s an ongoing investigation,” Brick said, as if he wasn’t really dying to tell the story.
“Brick, don’t keep all us assholes in suspense,” Sasha said, urging him on, as he grabbed another drink from a passing waiter.
“Okay, I guess I can tell you guys the stuff that’s public information,” Brick said, finally giving in. “Well, there were these drug dealers who managed to get on the bad side of Mad Dog. I think it had something to do with them pushing junk to high school kids. Mad Dog approaches these guys and tells them to shut it down, but they didn’t listen.” He shook his head as he recalled some of the crime-scene photos he’d been shown. “To say Mad Dog rained hell down on them is an understatement. He wiped out just about every member of their crew. He even snuffed out a few of their family members, to make sure he got his point across. The only reason he made it onto the radar of the Feds was that one of the dealers he killed had been working as a confidential informant for the government. It was really just dumb luck.”
“Did you guys ever catch him?” Keith asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
“Catching Mad Dog Savage is like trying to catch water in your hands,” Brick said, cupping his hands for emphasis. “Every time we get close, he vanishes and pops up somewhere else. Mad Dog isn’t the type to stay in one place for too long . . . a real nomad. Mad Dog is slicker than a pig in shit, but damn near every greased pig finds itself as bacon eventually.”
“Sounds like a barbarian,” said the model, finally speaking, and surprising everyone at the table. For a minute Keith had thought the girl was a mute.
“Quite to the contrary. During the investigation, I did some digging into Mad Dog’s past. The boy has an IQ of one hundred thirty-seven. Even got a free ride to LSU,” Brick said. “I could never figure out how someone with so much potential could throw it all away to become trash.”
“You have any insight on that, Keith?” Theodore said, switching his attention to his future son-in-law.
Keith felt the color drain from his face. “How do you mean?”
“You grew up around those parts. I’m sure you have bumped into this outlaw clan or, at the very least, have heard of them.”
Paranoia induced by the cookie kicked in, and Keith had the feeling that every eye in the room turned to him, including those of the Django-looking waitstaff. “Can’t say that I have,” he replied coolly. He was focused on his plate, but he could feel Theodore’s eyes on him.
“Well, I sure hope this Mad Dog character never finds his way to Georgia. I shudder to think what kind of hell someone like that could bring to our quiet Atlanta.” Sasha fanned herself dramatically.
“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, my love,” Brick replied, patting Sasha’s hand reassuringly. “People like Mad Dog and his family don’t like change. They prefer familiar hunting grounds, so to speak. If you ask me, I doubt any of those bumpkins have ever been outside Louisiana or have the desire to go elsewhere.”
“Even if they did, I’m sure Brick would lock the lot of them up straightaway,” Estelle said sarcastically.
“Only for Keith to find a way to free them,” Julian said, loud enough for Keith to hear.
Keith was two seconds away from reaching across the table and popping Julian in his mouth when Bernie cut in.
“As much as I’d love to stay and continue dishing about criminals, I’ve got an early meeting. We should be going.” Bernie stood.
“On a Saturday?” Theodore asked suspiciously.
“You know I’m never really off the clock, Daddy,” Bernie said.
“Don’t be like that, Bernie. Keith just got here. At least stay for one last round of drinks,” Sasha pleaded.
“I wish I could, sis, but I don’t want to be dragging in my meeting. Let’s do lunch tomorrow, though, okay?” Bernie planted two air kisses on either side of Sasha’s face, then Estelle’s, before moving to her father. “I love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, baby girl.” Theodore hugged her. “Good seeing you again, Keith,” he said in a less than sincere tone.
“Likewise,” Keith answered, matching his tone. He said his goodbyes to everyone else before escorting Bernie to the door. Before he left, he looked back over his shoulder and found Theodore giving him a knowing smirk.
CHAPTER 11
“Thanks for the assist back there,” Keith said as he and Bernie rode in his car, headed back to his place. He was behind the wheel, while Bernie rode shotgun.
“You know I’ve always got my man’s back. Besides, I’d had about enough of Brick and his ego,” Bernie said while slipping off her heels and putting on her flats. Her feet were killing her.
“Brick.” Keith laughed at the name. “Sounds like a character in a Sweet Valley High novel.”
“More like a washed-up porn star.” Bernie snickered. “I want to apologize about that business with my father too.”
“What business?” Keith asked, as if he was oblivious about what she was referring to.
“That whole ‘Have you got any Mad Dog stories?’” she said, imitating her father’s voice. “What was that all about?”
“It’s cool,” Keith said, downplaying it.
“It really isn’t. I know you don’t come from the most squeaky-clean background, but it bothers me when Daddy tries to insinuate that you still associate with that type of element,” Bernie huffed.
“Maybe I do,” Keith half teased. “But on the real, I try not to pay ole Teddy any mind. He’s only doing what rich folks do, judge everybody who ain’t rich. Folks with money will never truly understand the plight of people without. They ain’t from what I’m from.”
“Well, my father is!” Bernie announced. “Before my father made his bones in Atlanta, he was a poor kid from the sticks who was trying to make a better way for himself. You and he are actually more alike than I think either of you realize or will give each other credit for.”
“I don’t know what his problem is, but one day me and your daddy are going to have to come to some kind of understanding,” Keith said seriously. He didn’t like the games Theodore played, but because of Bernie, Keith had never called him on his bullshit, but his patience was wearing thin.
“Watch it, now. That’s still my father. He can be a dick, but he’s family. Unlike some people I know, I was raised knowing the importance of family,” Bernie told him. From the tone of her voice, he could tell she was still in her feelings about their disagreement from earlier.
Keith drove the next few miles in silence. At one point he cast a glance over at Bernie. Her face was hard, but her eyes were soft, and it was clear that she was deep in thought. She wouldn’t come out and say it, but he’d hurt her with his unwillingness to introduce her to his family. One thing Keith couldn’t stand was to see Bernie hurt. It was like Nate had once said. How long do you think you can keep that closet door closed before a bone comes falling out?
By the time they made it back to Keith’s place, the mood had lightened. Keith opened the front door, then held it open for her to go in first. As she passed him, he gave her a gentle pinch on her rear to check her temperature.
“Quit it.” Bernie swatted his hand away.
“How long you gonna keep up this fake attitude?” he asked, sucking his teeth.
“Ain’t nothing fake about it. Don’t think just because we shared a laugh or two at the expense of my sister’s boo that I forgot about your bullshit from earlier.” Bernie waggled her finger at him like a mother scolding her child. Keith grabbed her about the wrist and kissed the palm of her hand. “Don’t . . .”
“Don’t what?” He kissed her fingers. Bernie let out a low moan. “Tell me that doesn’t feel good.” He slid one of her fingers in his mouth and sucked on it.
“See, now y
ou’re playing dirty,” Bernie panted.
“That isn’t dirty. This is . . .” Keith got on his knees and slid Bernie’s dress up over her hips. He was pleased to see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. He kissed her bikini line before easing his way south and lapping gently at her clit. Bernie’s breathing was now heavy. He knew all the right spots. “Isn’t this better than fighting?”
“Uh-huh,” was all she could manage to get out by way of a reply. Her resolve was slipping. She shivered as he moved back up her body, setting fire to her skin everywhere his lips touched. Acting more from instinct than thought, she pulled his belt free and began working on the buttons of his slacks. She finally freed his cock and held it in her hand as it throbbed. She wanted him inside her more than she wanted to be angry with him. She was just easing him in when Keith abruptly stopped and pulled away.
“What the hell?” she mumbled.
“Shhh.” He raised his finger for silence and cocked his head to listen. Something was off.
“What’s wrong?” Bernie asked.
“You hear anything?” he asked.
“No.”
“Exactly. Where are the dogs?” Bonnie and Clyde hadn’t come to greet him when they came in. It was something they had been doing since they were pups, but there was no sign of them now. Keith moved to the picture of Johnny Cochran that hung on his wall, near the control panel for the alarm. Behind the picture was a wall safe where Keith kept his Glock 40.
“Keith, what’s going on?” Bernie asked nervously as he retrieved the Glock. She had been to Keith’s place dozens of times and never knew he kept a gun.
“Go wait in the car,” Keith ordered, moving past her, with the gun at the ready. He first checked the living room and then the bedrooms, but he couldn’t find the dogs. Stealthily, he moved toward the kitchen, where he could hear the distinct rattling of one of their collars. As he neared the kitchen, he picked up on a familiar smell. . . fresh-brewed coffee. Keith moved into the darkened kitchen and flicked on the light. He found his missing dogs, and they weren’t alone.
The man sitting comfortably at his breakfast nook appeared to be somewhere in his forties. He had a headful of long black hair streaked with gray. Against his paper bag–brown skin, his hair made him look like a Native American. Resting on the table was a tattered black cowboy hat, with what looked like reptile fangs circling the band of it. Clyde sat at his feet, silent, while Bonnie rested on his lap. She wagged her stubby tail affectionately as he scratched behind her ear. It was as if he and the dogs were old friends.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Keith barked, startling Bonnie and causing her to jump off the stranger’s lap.
“Not quite the greeting I was expecting,” the man replied.
“Answer my damn question!” Keith slammed his fist on the counter, rattling the cup of coffee the long-haired man had helped himself to.
The man ignored Keith’s anger and kept his tone even. “If I’d had a choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have just popped up. Your family has been trying to reach you for days. When nobody could reach you, your mama insisted I come investigate personally,” he explained.
“My mother sent you? Is she okay?” Keith asked nervously. A feeling of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach from the fact that he hadn’t seen her in so long.
“Your mama is fine, but this doesn’t make this visit any easier. I’m here on urgent family business.”
“Then you can save it. They don’t rock with me, and I don’t rock with them,” Keith said.
The man, whose name was Asher, shrugged. “Everybody has got their own version of a story.”
“How the hell did you get past my security system?” Keith asked.
“You should know better than anyone that they ain’t invented a security system that I can’t bypass. And yours is shit, by the way. I’m surprised somebody hasn’t broken in here sooner and made off with some of your fancy stuff.” Asher picked up an expensive-looking crystal vase and examined it.
“ Keith . . .” Bernie’s voice startled him.
“I told you to wait in the car!” Keith snapped.
“I would have, but you never gave me the car key,” Bernie shot back. “What’s going on?” She looked from Keith to the man, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” The man stood to his full height, about six feet four, and extended his hand. “I’m—”
“This is my cousin Asher,” Keith said, cutting him off. “Asher, this is my fiancée, Bernie.”
“Ah, the fiancée? Pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you,” Asher said warmly.
“I wish I could say the same. Keith doesn’t talk about his family at all,” Bernie said, looking at Keith.
Asher laughed. “I’m not surprised. I’m afraid the family has failed to live up to Keith’s new standards.”
“Asher, if you’ve come here just to point fingers, then you can get the fuck out. Now, cut the shit and tell me why you’re here!” Keith demanded. He wanted to cut to the chase and get Asher out of his home as soon as possible.
“It’s like I said. I’m here on family business. It’s kind of a sensitive matter.” Asher cut his eyes at Bernie.
“I’m his fiancée. Whatever you have to say to Keith, you can say in front of me.” Bernie hated to be pushy, but this was as close as she had come to solving the mystery of Keith and his estranged family in all the time she’d known him.
Asher looked at Keith. He was wearing a worried expression, but he didn’t contradict what his lady had said. “Very well then. Your cousin Big Money has passed.”
This news stunned Keith. Their cousin Big Money had come to stay with his family not long before Keith left home for good. From what he remembered, Big Money had been a jovial young man who loved a good laugh but had a nose for trouble. The last he’d heard he was in New York, playing gangster. “I’m sorry to hear it. Things are crazy up here with work, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to New York for the funeral.”
“The funeral isn’t in New York. It’s in New Orleans. Ma wants to lay Big Money to rest in his native soil, as is our tradition when kin passes,” Asher reminded him.
“I’m sorry, Asher. I’ve got just too much going on to leave Atlanta right now. At the very least, I can help with the funeral arrangements. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll write you a check,” Keith told him.
Asher’s calm demeanor changed, and his face became hard. “Cousin, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken this for a request. Your mama has called a gathering to honor our dead. When the head of this family calls a gathering, every son of a Savage must answer. That includes the ones who are pretending they have forgotten who’s blood pumps through their veins. Once Big Money is laid to rest, you can go back to playing make-believe with your new friends in Atlanta, but until such time, you will respect our family . . . your name, and answer the call. It’s time for you to come home, boy.”
PART II
Discovery
CHAPTER 12
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just touched down at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. The local time is forty-thirty in the afternoon, and the temperature is a balmy ninety-two degrees. At this time, you may use your cellular devices. On behalf of Delta Air Lines and our entire crew, we’d like to thank you for flying with us, and we look forward to you flying with us again in the future. Have a blessed day and welcome to New Orleans.”
Hearing the in-flight announcement filled Keith with a sudden sense of dread. It was like he was descending into the very bowels of hell. In a sense he was, because he was surely about to come face-to-face with the devil.
The forty-eight hours following Asher’s visit had been the longest of Keith’s entire life. If he’d been smart, he’d have kicked Asher out of his house and mailed a sympathy card to his family instead of planning to attend Big Money’s funeral. Instead he’d done what he was bound by honor and blood t
o do: he’d heeded the call. Every son of a Savage, Keith had thought countless times, repeating Asher’s words to himself. He hadn’t been a Savage in so long that the name no longer sounded right rolling off his tongue.
When Keith had finally decided that he was done with his family and their bullshit, that meant that he had devised a plan to cut them out of his life in every sense of the word. This had included dropping his last name. The Savage name was synonymous with criminal activity, and so long as he carried it, he would never be able to escape his family’s reputation. So, Keith had legally changed his last name to Davis. Davis had been his father’s last name. Keith’s dad wasn’t a Savage by blood; it was Keith’s mother who descended from the long line of Savages. His father had been a street dude and had had his fair share of run-ins with the law, but his mother was the real gangster. Machine-Gun Ma had balls of steel, and anyone hoping to share a bed with her had to be just as hard. Keith’s dad had died trying to prove that he was.
The death of his father had hit Keith harder than it had his siblings. Of all the kids, he was probably the one who’d been closest to their father. He had been Keith’s everything, and in losing his dad, he had also lost a part of himself. Though it wasn’t his mother who had put his father in the ground, a part of him still blamed her that he was gone. His father had crumbled under the pressure of trying to live up to the expectations that came with being the husband of a Savage. That had been a turning point for Keith. His father’s death had made him realize that he didn’t want to die trying to live up to his family’s expectations. As soon as he was old enough, he’d left his family and his name behind.
Asher unearthing Keith’s skeletons had hurt, but this was nothing compared to what he’d felt when Bernie confronted him that night. For a long while after Asher had gone, Keith and Bernie had just sat on opposite sides of his living room in awkward silence. Two things had been apparent in her eyes: her hurt and her questions . . . so many questions. In court, Keith had a response for anything that a prosecutor could possibly think to throw at him, but he’d faltered when Bernie asked, “Who are you?”
