by Carl Weber
“Damn,” he muttered, practically drooling on himself.
“Stay focused, Orlando.” I nudged him.
“I’m trying, but she got my full attention right now,” he said.
I tugged his arm and pulled him over to the bar. “Lemme get a pomegranate martini,” I told the bartender, who stared at me blankly for a few seconds.
Finally he said, “We’re fresh outta those.”
Orlando leaned over and whispered, “Paris, I know we’re in a bar, but we’re in Waycross.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “Fine, lemme get a vodka and cranberry. Can you handle that?”
“Now, that I can handle.” He commenced to making my drink, along with the shot of Hennessy Orlando ordered.
“Well, hello. I haven’t seen you before.” The nippled woman who’d caught Orlando’s eye walked over and greeted him.
“Yeah, it’s my first time here,” he said.
“Well, welcome to Big Shirley’s. What brings you in here?” She eased her body so close to him that her breasts were now pressed against his chest.
“Actually, I’m here for two reasons,” he told her. I could see him trying not to stare.
“And what’s that?” She gave him a seductive look.
“Well, one, to buy me a drink and enjoy the atmosphere.”
“I can see you’re already doing that. Is there anything else you might be interested in buying?” she asked, moving her torso slightly so she was basically caressing him with her breasts.
“Not right now,” I told her. She shot me a dirty look but quickly turned her attention back to her mark. No doubt she saw dollar signs, judging by the way she was sizing up Orlando’s gold watch.
“And I’m looking for someone,” Orlando told her.
“You’ve already found her. I’m Lydia.” She introduced herself by touching his leg, and I could see Orlando struggling even more. I had to give it to her: this chick was good, real good.
“Well, we’re actually looking for Curtis and Kenny,” I said, deciding to take control of the conversation since my brother was so distracted.
“Who?” the bartender asked as he placed the drinks on the bar.
“Curtis and Kenny Duncan, the owners of this place,” I told him.
“Oh, naw, we haven’t seen them in a minute,” he answered.
Lydia looked over at the bartender with a frown. “What are you talking about? They were just here this afternoon.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he growled at her. Orlando and I exchanged glances.
“Why don’t we go somewhere that we can chat in private?” Orlando said, picking up his drink and taking Lydia by the hand. “Y’all give private dances?”
“We give way more than that,” she answered happily. “Right this way.”
I watched as Lydia led him through the crowd. I guess this place still was a whorehouse after all. Knowing that they would probably be gone for a while, I decided to sit on one of the worn barstools rather than stand. A couple of men tried to catch my eye, but I made sure to avoid eye contact, and instead, turned my attention back to the man behind the bar.
“Can I get another?” I said, pushing my empty glass toward him and making sure I gave him a smile as seductive as the one Lydia had given Orlando.
He gave me a double take then shrugged. “No problem.”
When he came back a few minutes later, I made sure my cleavage was a little more apparent by pulling my shirt down farther and leaning against the bar.
“Thanks. I’m Sky,” I told him.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, glancing at my chest then back up at me. “I’m Barry.”
“Well, Barry, listen. I really need to find Curtis and Kenny. It’s really important.”
Barry shook his head. “Look, I don’t want no trouble. I can’t help you with that.”
“It’s not like that. We’re not causing any trouble. Really, we’re not. The truth is, they’re my cousins.”
Barry folded his arms. “Yeah, right.”
“No, seriously, they are. I can prove it. Big Shirley was my aunt too.”
“Anybody would know Shirley and the boys were family,” he said.
“Would anybody have this?” I whipped out my real ID and flashed it to him.
Barry looked at it and then at me. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
“I told you. They really are my cousins, and I need to find them. It’s a family emergency.”
The way he looked around to make sure no one was listening, I thought he was about to give me some valuable information, but then he spoke, and all he said was, “Sorry, miss. Kenny and Curt aren’t here.”
“When are they coming back?” I asked him, pressing for more.
“I honestly don’t know. They haven’t been around much ever since their dad came back around a little while ago. They only pop in to pick up the cash and that’s it.” He shrugged.
“Do you know where I might be able to find them?”
“Can’t really say. They live out on their family farm. I’m sure you know exactly where that is, if you’re really a Duncan as you claim.”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied. Or at least Orlando knew. “Thanks.”
My phone rang, so I stepped away from the bar to answer it.
“What’s up, Vegas?”
“Where are you guys?”
“We’re in Waycross. I just got a line on Kenny and Curtis. If they’re here, Uncle Larry can’t be too far behind.”
“Good. Find those motherfuckers before they cause any more trouble,” he said.
“More trouble? What the fuck happened?”
I could hear Vegas take a breath and pause, which was never a good sign. “Those motherfuckers blew up our Atlanta hub and killed Frankie B.”
“They killed Uncle Frankie? Shit, O’s not gonna like that. We might be bringing these dudes home in body bags.”
“That’s for Pop to worry about. Personally, I don’t care how you bring their asses back. Just don’t take any chances. Family or not, these are some dangerous people. Understand?”
Larry
21
“Well, mon, this is it!” Jamaica John waved his arm dramatically, as if he were revealing the grand prize on a game show instead of a tiny-ass cargo plane that was only slightly larger than his oversized body. I stood back and stared for a second, hesitating for several reasons, the first being that I hated to fly. Always had. Something about being suspended up in the air, knowing we could fall at any moment, made me fearful. I enjoyed being on the ground, where I was in control. The second reason for my hesitation was that not only was the plane little as hell, but it didn’t look safe at all. It was pretty banged up and rusted. When Jamaica John told me he had a friend who could get us to our destination without passports, I knew it wasn’t gonna be a damn Learjet, but I damn sure wasn’t expecting a piece of shit like the one we were standing in front of.
I glanced over at the pilot, who looked barely old enough to possess a driver’s license, let alone a pilot’s. “You sure this thing is gonna make it to Kingston?” I asked.
“Of course, mon,” Jamaica John said. “It made it from Kingston wit’ no problem. Gus here flies back and forth all de time. Right, Gus?”
The lanky guy, dressed in cutoff jeans and a colorful tank top, shrugged. His lackadaisical attitude definitely wasn’t helping me gain any confidence in his ability to fly or in the damn plane itself.
“Neva had no problem at all. Don’t see havin’ none now. But it’s gettin’ late, and I need to be takin’ off. You say you need to get to Jamaica; I’m goin’. You pay, you go. Your choice, mon.” He sauntered off, opened the door of the winged vehicle, and began placing a couple of boxes and bags inside.
“Hey, you say you need to speak wit’ Vinnie. Dis is de only way to get you dere wit’ no passport or red tape,” Jamaica John said.
I turned and looked at Momma, who was waiting for me to make a decision.
“What’s the fucki
ng problem?” Momma hissed. “Pay the man and let’s get on the fucking plane. We got shit to handle.”
“One thousand apiece, right?” I asked Jamaica John.
He nodded. “Dat’s right. A bargain, I’d say.”
I slid my hand in my pocket, counted out two thousand dollars, and handed it to him.
He counted the stack, counted it again, then glanced up at me with a weird look on his face.
“Is there a problem?” I asked him.
He stared at me for another second, like he was trying to read something on my face, then he smirked and said, “No. No problem at all, mon.”
“Good, then let’s get the hell outta here and get this shit over with. The faster we take off, the faster we can land,” I said.
I walked over to the opened door where Gus stood, smoking what I hoped was a cigarette. I paused to let my mother go inside first; then I followed behind her. The inside of the plane was even smaller than I expected, with a pilot’s seat, two small seats, and an open space for whatever other cargo Gus happened to be delivering. I strapped myself into the seat next to Momma, and a few minutes later, Gus climbed inside.
As he began fidgeting with the dials and controls, I prayed that this wasn’t truly the death trap I felt it was. The engine started up with a stutter, and I half expected it to cut off. Jesus Christ, what had I gotten myself into? Gus fiddled with a few more knobs, and then, thankfully, it began purring like a loud kitten. He then reached down to the floor beside him and turned on what I assumed was a radio, because reggae music began playing.
Gus gave a thumbs up. The plane jolted a bit, and then we reversed. I peered out the window and saw Jamaica John waving at us. When the plane changed direction and we began moving forward at a faster pace, I braced myself for takeoff. The plane rocked and rattled, causing all of us to shift back and forth. I closed my eyes and held on to the side of the raggedy seat. And then, the plane stopped shaking so much, and I knew we were in the air. I released my grip on the seat, but my heart still raced, and I didn’t open my eyes.
“I can’t believe we’re going to Jamaica,” I heard Momma say. “I ain’t never been over there. I’ma get me a drink with an umbrella and lay out on the beach. Hell, who knows? I might meet me a man over there. A nice Jamaican man with muscles who can help me get my groove back. Shit, Larry, who knows? You might end up with a Jamaican stepdaddy!” She laughed.
“Momma, please,” I mumbled, my eyes still closed. I was trying my best to hold it together, but her nonstop chatter wasn’t helping me any, especially with the constant thumping of the music Gus was playing. It was all too much. Being in the small compartment of the plane, which was bumping up and down in the air, was causing me to feel more and more constricted. I could hardly breathe.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed. “Why are you acting like a scared rabbit? It’s just a plane, Larry. You act like your ass ain’t fly when you were in the war.”
The plane jumped a little, and I gripped the chair even tighter.
“Momma,” I pleaded, “can you just stop talking for a little while? Please.”
“Boy, you look white as a ghost,” she said, laughing at me.
“Momma, please! Will you just sit back and shut up till we get where we’re going?” I said, reaching in my suit jacket for my silver flask. I unscrewed the cap, taking a long swig without even knowing what was inside. The smooth liquor burned as it went down my throat, but it made me feel a hell of a lot better.
Gus, who must’ve heard what was going on, suddenly changed the music to something a little more soothing. I sat back and started to enjoy the soft ballad that was now playing. I took another, longer swig from the flask.
“Feel better?” Momma asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Good. Now gimme some of that so I can feel better too,” she said, and I passed her the flask. I closed my eyes again, and this time, I drifted into a deep slumber, knowing that when I woke up, we would be on the ground.
Curtis
22
“Hold the damn light closer this way!” I yelled at my brother.
“I am! Damn,” Kenny said, shining the light from his cell phone in the direction I was pointing. “Are you sure there’s even anything down there? This could be another one of his fantasies, Curt.”
I ignored him and kept digging in the dirt. I was on my hands and knees behind the barn of our family home, in the exact spot my father had instructed us to go. Although I had wondered the same thing a few seconds before Kenny asked the question, there was no way I was gonna stop looking. People called my dad Crazy Larry all the time, and although he was a little quirky, I always felt that he got a bad rap most of the time. So, when he called with specific instructions to get a “package” that he had buried behind the barn on the Duncan farm, even I was a little skeptical, but I was going to keep shoveling in that dirt until I found it or China.
“Hey, you hear something?” Kenny whispered and moved the light again.
“Dammit, Kenny,” I said, my frustration increasing, “of course I hear something. We’re on a fucking farm with noisy-ass hogs, chickens, and cows. Now, hold that damn light over here.”
“I don’t care what you say. I’m telling you I heard something,” he whispered.
“Shit, I think I found something.” I squinted and leaned closer to the ground. “Give me that damn phone.”
Kenny passed me the phone, and I held it into the shallow hole that I had dug. Sure enough, I saw something that looked like fabric.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said.
I handed him the phone and used the hand shovel to dig around the area a little more, then I reached my hand in and tried to pull out whatever it was. It didn’t budge. A part of me was afraid that it might be a fucking corpse.
“What is it?”
“If you hold the fucking light still I’ll be able to see and tell you,” I shot back. He finally held the light still long enough for me to see that it was a duffle bag. I continued digging and pulling until it was finally free.
“What’s in it?” Kenny asked.
“Money,” I said when I unzipped the bag and saw rolls of bills, held with rubber bands and stacked together in clear plastic bags. The duffle was full of money. “Must be over a million dollars in here.”
“Damn, you think this was here the entire time he was away?” Kenny asked.
I shrugged, zipping the bag and standing up. “Knowing the old man, there ain’t no telling. He might have bags of money all over the country. But this is the only one he sent us to get, and it’s the only one I’m digging for. Come on. Help me put the dirt back in this hole so we can get the hell outta here.”
Kenny hesitated then froze up like a scared doe caught in headlights. “I’m telling you, Curt, I hear something,” he said.
“Man, if you don’t bring your paranoid ass on and help me fill this fucking hole so we can get the fuck outta here, I swear—” I stopped mid-sentence when I heard a branch snap.
“You heard it too this time, didn’t you?” Kenny asked.
“Cut that fucking light off,” I said, dropping the shovel and pulling the gun from my waistband.
Kenny turned the light off and wasted no time taking out his own weapon.
“Yo, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but this is private property, and you’re trespassing, so prepare to die,” I said, aiming my gun in the direction of the sound.
“I could say the same thing to you, Curtis,” someone replied.
He stepped into the moonlight, and I could make out the silhouette of a gun. I was about to shoot when I realized that I knew the person.
“Orlando?” Kenny recognized him too.
“You were expecting maybe Wonder Woman?” he joked. Orlando had always been a little corny like that, brainiac that he was, but just because he was super smart didn’t mean he was any less dangerous than the rest of my cousins. After all, they were raised by my snake of an uncle.
“I should be asking you that.” He glanced at the hole and the duffle bag.
“We live here. And what we do is none of your damn business.” I raised my gun, pointing it at him. Kenny did the same. “Now, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to talk, cousin,” Orlando said. “Where’s Uncle Larry?”
Kenny glanced over at me, and I shook my head. “Again, that’s none of your business.”
“First of all, lower your gun,” he said forcefully. “Secondly, that’s where you’re wrong. You and Uncle Larry made this my business when you blew up our transport hub and killed my godfather.”
“Godfather?” Kenny repeated.
“That’s right. Frankie B was my godfather and one of the nicest men I’ve ever met in my life.” He stared at us arrogantly, as if he had no doubt he was in control. “Now, put down your guns. We’re gonna have a little talk about your father.”
“I ain’t putting shit down. You put your fucking gun down!” Kenny shouted erratically.
I’d always known LC had raised his kids to think they were better than us, but Orlando was a little too sure of himself for a man who had two guns on him. I tried my best to look around without taking my eyes off him, but I didn’t see anyone or anything. “Who else is here? I know LC didn’t just send you after us alone.”
“He didn’t. He sent me along with him,” a female voice said from behind me.
I glanced to my right, and there was my baby cousin Paris, holding guns to the back of Kenny’s and my head. Bitch had to be some kind of ninja, ’cause I had no idea how she had sneaked up on us like that.
“Now, I’m not playing with you, Curtis. You either, Kenny. Put the fucking guns down.”
