"Man... Vivian ain't gone ask you for no goddamn hundred dollars! She got that money off of you for your wife! I'm callin' it! Place your bets - place your bets - her ass is in there hidin' like a mug!"
"Now what do I do?" Shawn asked.
"We gone go eat, that's what we gone do! Shit I'm hungry! Huntin' work up a goddamn appetite, come on man - give her this one. She there, mark my words - your woman right there, we just can't prove it, but I know it. Fuck it, let's go eat - we can work something out after that."
"YOUR ASS OWE ME MAJOR!! I should be an actress! You hear how I played that?" Vivian crowed her victory.
"YES! I knew your butt could do it! That's my girl! Oh sweety you did good! You should be an actress!" Sylvia grinned taking the money Vivian handed her.
"Yeah well, I'm telling you now - that's the first and the last time I'm gone be lying to that man for you. You should be ashamed of yourself Sylvia, he every where looking for you, with his fine butt - girl he is fine, I do not understand why you running from no man like that."
"I know ... isn't he cute as can be?! But them looks will fool you, his butt is something else - all you see is the smiles and sweetness, he can be a trip too."
"But you love him, don't you - trip or not."
"Oh yeah I do ... you can't even begin to know how much."
"Oh yes I can ... you should - go - home."
"I am, I promise Vivian. I'm out of here to go and see my father, once I've spent a day or more with him, its home for me."
"Thank goodness! Now I'm gone have to apologize to that man for telling him that big fat-ass lie that I haven't heard from you. I don't want him thinking he can't trust me."
"Excuse me, whose side is you on?" Sylvia popped her hip to the side, hand on it asking in that high pitched sister please tone.
"Well obviously yours, you got a hundred dollars, don't you!?"
Sylvia smiled and threw her arms around Vivian's neck, "Thank you so much baby girl and yes I do owe you big."
Smiling, Vivian hugged her back. "Now let me get my clothes on, I told you I was going somewhere."
"Where you going?" Sylvia asked, folding the money, picking up Shawn's leather and unzipping one of the high pockets to put it in.
"I'm meeting with Leak Chan's wife - I'm gonna try and get her to let me sign the house over to her."
"When'd you talk to her?"
"This morning. She didn't wanna talk to me at first - I had to use my customer service - tolerantly pleading while maintaining my dignity voice. I had to humble down some, but I had no choice. Let's just hope it pays off."
"Yeah let's, you got in mind what you'll say?"
"I sure do, I'm going by the bank first and get the necessary paper work I'll need. That's the good thing about working at a bank, you know a bit about the ins and outs of taking care of things of this nature."
"Good for you. Now as for me, I have to get out of here and hope I can do so without running into my husband. Can I leave this laptop here? I don't feel like toting it around, I'm hitting the bus this time. I was gonna ask Sheila would she take me but now that Shawn's there, no chance of that."
"Here, leave that big bag too, unless you think you'll end up spending the night or something. You wanna borrow one of my overnight bags?"
"Oh please? I can pick this stuff up later."
"You might as well just call your husband to get you from there, because he ain't leaving here until he find you no way."
"Emmm, we'll see. Thank you so much, lets do this, I wanna get out of here and I know you need to get going too."
Sheila was cleaning up the house, not that it needed it as far as Shawn could see, and Dennis was heating up their breakfast while he was on the phone with Paul, finally reaching him. He'd told Dennis where he knew she would be heading next, he just needed to know where that was. Paul was right on the money with the information.
"Okay you ready?" He asked Shawn.
Shawn had pen in hand and a tablet that Dennis supplied him with.
"Her father owns a scrap yard. Junk cars, collects parts, that kind of thing. Its over in a suburb of Chicago in an area called Blue Island. He picks up wrecks that have been totalled and salvages whatever parts can be reused. The business is called, L. H. M Salvage, the address is..." He went on to give Shawn all the details, address, phone number and how to get there. "You happy now?" Paul asked.
"I'm gettin' there. Thanks - you know I really appreciate this."
"Yeah yeah, I know. I parked your bike by the garage, a young man - Sylvia's son - Mundo? That his name?"
"Yeah."
"Well, he took it into the garage. She's parked, safe and sound."
"I'll never forget this man."
"I'll never let you. Later Shawn."
"Later."
Shawn clicked his phone off and looked up at Dennis smiling. "You ever want to find anyone, or know anything, this is the man to go to. I've got everything I need on her father."
Dennis smiled, he could see the light turn on with Shawn. "Do me a favor man." Dennis asked sitting a plate before him. "Give her a little bit of time with him before you take off over there. Just a little bit, you can sit and chill with me - just - take a breather."
Shawn stared at him for a moment and sat back in his chair. "Am I that bad?" He asked.
"No... not at all. Its just that, she may need that time with him - you go rushing over there, just - give her a breather." Dennis sat his plate down, took a seat across from Shawn and started eating. The food looked and smelled delicious, but all he could think about was catching up to her. Taking a deep breath, Shawn fought against his need and turned and started eating, his mind on that number, on that address, on his wife.
"You know, my wife thinks a lot of you. It's a relief that Sylvia has you, after that first one. I couldn't stand that motherfucka'! I swear fo'God, three or four times I wanted to just beat the living shit out of him. Sonofabitch was always up to some scandalous shit! Selling weed, selling coke - whatever he could get his hands on to sell."
"What? He was a dealer?"
"A dealer wanna be. Sylvia be at work, trying to keep the lights on, trying to keep the gas on, trying to keep them kids in clothes. Motherfucka' had the nerve to come to our house when they was over once, just her and the kids. He knew she just got paid, and wanted her to give up her check so he could go take care of some "business" - as he put it. She wouldn't give it to him, so he gone try and take it! In my goddamn yard - with me around. I told him I will stomp yo'ass until can't no body recognize your ass! Turn her the fuck loose! Kids crying, Crystal out there trying to get between them. How Sylvia put up with his ass, I - do - not know! Anyway, he walked off threatening her man, telling her, her ass was his when she got home. I made her stay with us, puttin' up with no shit like that. That was one Puerto-nigga I could have done without meetin'."
"Was it always like that?"
"Pretty much while the kids was young. Sylvia tried to leave his ass twice, but he wouldn't let her. Made her life a living hell! They got evicted once cause his ass hadn't paid the rent in like 5 months! Sylvia didn't know until they come knocking at the door. He kept telling the landlord bullshit stories, not to tell his wife, that he'd come up with the money. We get a phone call, she standing at a goddamn-..." Dennis stopped talking, getting choked up over it.
Shawn felt his eyes watering as well.
"Man - I get mad every time I think of that day. She crying, the kids crying, all they shit getting set out on the street. You know how embarrassing that shit is!? She work her ass off... for what?! For his stupid ass to screw it all up?! Sheila and I went and got her-..."
"What about her mother? Her brother's? What's going on there?"
"Man... its too much to get into. Sylvia never could tell her mother what was happening to her. If it wasn't for Sheila and I, she would have taken them kids to a homeless shelter before she would have told her mother. They didn't get along too good back then when them kids was young. Sylvi
a - uh ... don't tell her I told you, but - she had a little break down - it was too much. She got a lot of pride you know. She started crying and couldn't stop. I swear she must have cried for four days straight. Sheila ended up having to take her into the hospital because she couldn't get her to calm down. I don't know, after that - she kind of - got up, shook that shit off, and started doing what she had to do for her kids. She was a bit on the heavy side then, had picked up some weight. Living with us, she got a second job, started losing weight and basically, told him, if he wanted to kill her, he would have to but she wasn't taking no more of his shit. She was living with us, so he couldn't get a hold of her like he did when they was in they own place. He kind of straightened out a bit, didn't have no choice. Started treating her a little better cause she had that, to hell with it attitude. Man, she worked two jobs, Sheila kept Mundo and Crystal for her and she pulled them out the hole and got them into another place. They was living in a basement apartment about 8 blocks from here. Them last couple of years before his ass bit the dust, he started doing better. Bringing money home to her and shit. His ass was dealing big I think... into some shady shit. Sylvia use to have a fit, she didn't want nothing to do with what he was doing - he swear up and down he was working overtime too, that she didn't need two jobs no more."
"Were you around when he got killed?" Shawn asked.
"Yeah... thing is - they said he was burned up so bad in that car, he couldn't be identified. Sylvia identified him by his jewellery, cause he didn't have no dentist records to identify him. But you know what man... I saw the car - granted, it was twisted up like hell, wasn't no way he would have lived from that, thing is - while it had indeed been burning - I didn't see how he could be charred as bad as he was. I'on know. But you know how it is, when nigga's get killed - don't nobody give a shit. Who gone investigate? I think somebody roasted his ass alive and made it look like he died in that accident. He did something that got him cooked ... accident my ass!"
"Well, no offence, I'm glad he's dead."
"Shit - I didn't shed a tear! Good riddance! Only right goddamn thing he ever done, was have life insurance! That's what turned Sylvia's life around!" Dennis informed him, finishing up the last of his food as Shawn did the same. The more he was around his wife's friends, the more he learned about her. Never, had she spoken of such things to him. Not once going into detail about all that she'd gone through, what her first husband had put her through. Hearing it all made Shawn even more fiercely protective of her. Even more determined to love her the way a woman like that deserved to be loved. He'd give her the world if he could. As he'd told her, he'd gladly die for her, without hesitation, kill for her.
"You done man?" Dennis asked reaching for Shawn's plate.
"Yeah... that was fantastic - hit the spot big time!" Shawn complimented, "I can't just sit here Dennis, I'm gonna give her father a ring - I have to."
"Man you do what you have to do. I ain't got no right to tell you how to conduct your business - long as you take better care of her than that sorry ass punk she use to have, you all right by me."
"Thank you. I'm gonna give her the time you said she needs, but I just need to - I don't know. It's weird... it's like - I don't want nobody to hurt her again man. That's my problem - I can't handle it. It does something to me Dennis." Shawn had to stop and clear his throat, he was getting choked up. "If something happened to my wife - it would destroy me Dennis - what hurts her - burns me - it sets me on fire. What is she gonna face with her father? That's her father I know, but I don't even want him hurting her."
Dennis stood at the sink staring at Shawn, floored by his open and honest show of emotion. He never knew that white men even had those kinds of feelings and emotions. But this one did. His face was red, eyes were wet, sniffing and clearing his throat. Standing there then, Dennis was glad too, that Armundo was dead - one thing he would not like to see - is the two of them in a face off. The thought brought him chills. Because Armundo was an untrustworthy snake in the grass who would fight dirty. And this man here, he could see it now, would fight to the death for that woman. The signs were written all over him, without Dennis needing him to say it.
"You want me to leave the room while you dial him up? You can use our phone, them mobiles expensive - shit!"
"Hey, stay where you are, I just - I don't know - I just need to hear his voice maybe, kind of feel out the type of man he is maybe - do I sound stupid?"
"Hell naw - use the phone."
Dennis took it off the wall and passed it to him, giving him privacy anyway, as he located his wife somewhere in the house, to frisk about with. Shawn smiled as Sheila started squealing out, "Gone now Dennis! Would you leave me alone!"
Shaking his head, he turned leaning on their kitchen table and dialled the number Paul gave him. His was so nervous he almost wished there was no answer, but there was. A voice deep, craggy and grouchy answered.
"Where you at? How bad is it? I don't get hold no insurance - you do that yo'self! Who I'm talkin' too?"
Shawn chuckled, there was nothing he could tell so far from what he was hearing. "Well sir, its not my car that's wrecked, but a bit of my life. Am I speaking to Lucas Henry Martin?"
"You call me - don't you know?"
"Is this LHM Salvage?"
"Dialling them digits right, get me on the phone every time! I pick up wrecked cars, ain't in the business for wrecked lives - though I hear there's mo' money in that! Call a head banga' and have a nice day-..."
"Wait wait wait - please - don't hang up!" Shawn hastened to stop him realizing he was about to.
"Who is this? You the tax man? Child support? I'on owe nothing for nothing - what you want?"
"My name is Shawn Everett McPherson, I believe my wife is on her way to see you now."
"I'on know no Shawn nobody! Who yo' wife?"
Shawn swallowed, scared. "Your daughter." He replied carefully.
Silence
It went on for so long, Shawn thought he might have eased the phone off on him. He waited for the man to say something, but still silence went on, growing rapidly between them. "Mr Martin, you still there?"
"You white? You sound white! My daughter ain't white - least - last I seen her she wouldn't."
"No sir, she's not. Yes sir, I am."
"Shit ... what the hell you call me for, what you want?"
"She's on her way to see you." Shawn returned.
"Why?"
"Why? You're her father - are you not?"
"What's my so called daughter's name?"
"Sylvia Martin. Your wife is-..."
"I ain't got no wife!"
"...-well, the one you had, her name is Lydia ... is that right?"
"What they want? Looking for money? I sent her all the child support due her, due them - been paying the house note, what this about?"
"Sir, look - my wife needs to see you. Talk to you, make contact with you. Why? Because something in her needs that. She'll probably show up there within the hour, I'm calling for one reason."
"That is?"
"To let you know, and ask that you not let her leave there on her own. When she's ready to go, call me please, I'll come and get her. Will you take my number down? Please?"
His answer was a grunt, he could hear papers shuffling in the back ground, then finally, "Give it'chere!"
Shawn gave it to him, listening as he wrote it down and repeated it to make certain it was right.
"That it? That all you want?"
"Well - I guess... for now - um - I hope to meet you some day."
A grunt followed that.
"I suppose you're busy - so - I'll let you go."
"How long you been married to my daughter?" Lucas asked in his gravelly voice.
"We were just married two weeks ago today."
"You got any kids?"
"No sir, not together, not yet. I have a daughter that's ten now, and she has two children. Both adults, a son and a daughter, the daughter has two children. Sylvia's a grandmother a
lready - doesn't look like one though... and uh - we have one on the way between us - now." Shawn added at the end, not sure - but did so anyway.
"I see. So she was married before or not?"
"She was. He's passed on now. We met last year when I moved to Wisconsin."
"From where?" Came the gruff question. Shawn smiled, "From California sir."
"California? What make you move here?"
"My family, I'm originally from there, from Wisconsin."
"I been to Wisconsin, twice - almost made my business there. Too many cracka' and rednecks!"
Shawn couldn't help it, he burst with laughter, "I know exactly what you mean sir."
"You find that funny?"
"Sorry sir... I did."
"Which one you, cracka' or a redneck?"
"How about I leave that up to you to decide, when you meet me."
"I ain't say I wanna meet you. You hear me say that?"
"No sir."
"Em hm, well there any thang else you want me to know?" Lucas asked.
"Just that - well - my wife - I think - she needs her father. I think she does. I just - wanted you to know that."
"I guess so, if you say so."
The phone clicked off.
Shawn exhaled. He sat a moment, then dialled another number.
"Hello?"
"Lydia... its me, Shawn. I've found him, get a pen and paper."
Chapter 129
Lucas Henry Martin stood in his dingy compact front shop where the majority of his business was conducted.
He still had his hand on the phone.
His mind was in a buzz. He had a white son-in-law. Just spoke with him. Called him out of the blue - this son-in-law, informing him, that his daughter was coming. He removed his hand from the old square base phone which came right out of the seventies, with its thick curved headset, big round ear and mouth piece, beige with the square touch tone buttons. He looked around the shop, it needed cleaning up in the worse way possible. That hadn't occurred to him or crossed his mind until he knew that within the next hour or so, he'd be seeing his baby girl - who was married to some white man - named Shawn. He looked around, there were old newspapers stacked up on a table where all could be seen of it was it's legs, the surface buried under papers from no telling when. Car magazines and little mail-in flyers that had fallen out of whatever article and landed on the floor. Opposite there, was another taller table that held a coffee maker, sugar bowls, cups, big roll of rough blue, non-perforated work shop paper towel. It was certainly being used because it filled the square, once white garbage can that use to have a swing lid on it, now long since disappeared and from the top paper towel overflowed onto the floor. All of this was at the right of the all glass front door, including the big windows to the left and right of it, the glass and aluminium panes going all the way to the floor - both door and windows needed cleaning. To the left of the door, was a rack of old outdated maps for inner Chicago and the suburbs, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, Memphis, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Kentucky and Iowa. Fitting in the shop office was a soda and junk food vending machine partially filled. Then a door that led to the public bathroom, if anyone dare use it. Entering the shop you faced his long counter, and behind there - a door leading to where he lived quite contentedly. Lucas let out another big sigh and leaned forward over the counter looking at the floor. It needed sweeping, bad. Scrunching up his whiskered lip, peppered with gray and black course hairs under his nose and around his mouth, he shook his head. Didn't too many women come in his junk yard, just men. He reached up and scratched his grey peppered head of medium length afro, and wondered should he make an attempt to straighten up? Black engine oil smudges touched almost every surface. On the counter in front of him, nothing was in order, papers strewn across from one end to the other.
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