“Just Titus,” I said.
“Titus, I want to thank you for your hard work, all you’ve done to find Allie. I heard my wife hired you and I’m sorry for wasting your time with that, but I want you to know that Allie is fine. In fact, I just saw her earlier today. We had lunch together.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. “You just had lunch with your daughter Allie?”
“I did, and she’s fine. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on, so I’ll explain. Allie is living with a boy that my wife Pam doesn’t like.” He puffed on his cigar and his voice went lower. “Tell you the truth, I don’t like him either. But what’s a dad to do? Tell his daughter she can’t live her life the way she wants? That only works for so long.”
“Where is she living?”
“Now, that’s not really important.”
“It’s important to Mrs. Hayes.”
He looked out the window and sighed.
“Titus,” he said, “do you have kids?”
I had a flashback to the ultrasound, the tiny heartbeat five days before Ariel died.
“No,” I said.
“It’s a complicated business,” he said. “Mothers and daughters, fathers and daughters. They all get up in each other’s hair and there are—how do I phrase this?—certain misunderstandings.”
“Misunderstandings?”
“Titus, my wife Pam is a good woman. A strong woman. She wants the best for everyone–for me, for Allie. But she also doesn’t understand that Allie and I have a special father-daughter relationship.”
“Special?”
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong. Makes me sound like I was having an affair with my own daughter.” He laughed a big uncomfortable laugh and turned beet red, then downed the rest of his drink. “That’s not how I meant that. Allie is a Daddy’s Girl and I’m her big daddy. She and my wife, Pam, well, they both love each other, naturally—”
“Naturally.”
“—but Allie and Pam don’t get along all that well.”
Hm, Pam Hayes said just the same thing in reverse. Which one of them is lying?
“Go on,” I said and poured another shot into his cup. He didn’t stop me.
“So”, he said, “when sweet little Allie does something bad, makes a mistake, or gets into trouble, who do you suppose she runs to? Mommy? No, she runs to her Big Daddy, who loves his little girl and bails her out. He tells her not to do it again, but he knows full well she’s going to do it again. And, of course, part of the deal is that mommy doesn’t find out.”
He emphasized the word mommy in a strange way.
“So,” I said, “you’ve known all along that Allie vanished from school and moved in with Jake Preston?”
He paused, contemplating something.
“Hell, Titus,” he said, “I shouldn’t tell you this but I’m the one who writes the damn check for their rent. But Pam doesn’t know because she’d be completely against it and there’s no reasoning with Pam.” He laughed yet another big fake laugh. Then, he stared at the floor. “Now I find out she’s hired you to find Allie. What for, I don’t know. So she can go yell at her? Tell her to grow up or something? Bottom line, Titus, we no longer need your services. Allie is safe and fine, and I’m here to pay you whatever we owe you.”
“Who told you that your wife hired me?” I said.
He put the cigar to his mouth and stared at me like I was a mosquito that needed a whack.
“I figured that one out on my own,” he said and sipped his new drink.
“That was you yesterday parked around the corner with the engine running?” I said.
He squinted and puffed again, looking directly at me with genuine confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Never mind. Next question. When were you planning on telling your wife you’re putting Allie up with Jake Preston?”
He sipped and puffed some more.
“I’ve been working up to that,” he said. “Pam is not easy to break news to. My fault. I take the blame for that. I need to sit Pam down this very evening and have that talk.”
“So,” I said, “you came here today just to make sure I’m going to stop snooping.”
He laughed again. “Not at all, Titus. I’m only here to make sure you get paid for a job well done. I’m an honorable man. I’m not sure if my wife told you, but I’m running for the Senate.”
“So are they all, all honorable men.”
“Well, not all of them,” he said, not recognizing the quote, “but I certainly am. And our country needs someone who is going to best stand up for the values of the people of South Florida.”
“Wouldn’t it be damaging to your election efforts to have a daughter who frequents SoBe clubs and lives with a lowlife rat like Jake Preston?”
“Well, you got me to rights there, Titus. But what can I do? Allie is Allie. She’s miserable at college. I mean, I’d love for her to graduate, but I don’t think that’s going to happen and she just loves this Jake.”
I thought about telling him that Jake’s tongue seems to be inside every girl in Miami except for Allie, but decided to hold that card.
“I figure I’ll set them up in a nice condo,” he said, “and then set Jake up in a nice clean business somewhere. Make them happy. If they’re happy, then what can the press say, right?”
“Press can be vicious,” I said.
“Then let them be vicious. I love my daughter and I support her decision. Now, let me pay you so we can part as friends.”
He scoffed down the rest of the second drink and placed the cup on my counter. He reached into his large side pocket and took out one of those big leather-bound checkbooks full of oversized checks that shout I’m-a-bigshot. He placed it down and flipped it open with showmanship. He removed a fancy gold pen from the chest pocket of his polo shirt and wrote as he chewed on the cigar.
“I think this should cover your final expenses,” he said mid-puff.
“I don’t need it,” I said. “I’ve barely used what your wife gave me.”
“Oh, I’m certain that’s long gone. I know you’ve been working hard. Now, please Titus, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t contact my wife anymore. Just consider your case solved and closed. I’d love for us to just handle everything ‘in-house’ from here, so to speak.”
A stab of anger boiled up in my gut.
“I can’t do that, Mr. Hayes,” I said. “I was hired by Mrs. Hayes, not you. She needs a report from me when I find Allie, but I haven’t found Allie yet, and you don’t want to tell me where she is. Of course, I will find Allie. And when I do, I will do what I was hired to do: report her location to Mrs. Hayes.”
There was a long pause as predator and prey sized each other up again, although who’s who was yet to be determined. I’d bet on me.
“Now, Titus, really,” he said with a smile, the Southern-boy charm dialed up to high. “We both hired you. We are a team. Rex, Pam, and Allie. Together always, through thick and thin. This is a family matter and I apologize to you from the bottom of my heart for wasting your time, getting you involved in all this. Please, Titus, accept this as a bonus. Everything I do is big. Let me make this big gesture to you as a way of thanks. Take a vacation.”
“No,” I said.
“You know what? You’re a good man, I can tell. You cross your t’s and dot your i’s. I respect that. In fact, I respect the hell out of that. Look, I’m just going to leave this check on the countertop here. Put it aside until the morning and then I’m sure you’ll see things in a new light.”
He tore out the check and placed it on the counter. He stuffed the checkbook back in his shorts, and turned to the door.
“Well,” he said, “I’m going to mosey on along now.”
“Mosey on along now?” I said. “I haven’t heard anyone say that since I was a kid, and he was eighty. Or was it Festus on a Gunsmoke rerun?”
He turned to look back at me. His eyes narrowed. The good ol’ boy was gone, replaced by dead cold eyes.
“Titus,�
�� he said, in a lower voice with less accent, “you’re a hard man. I respect that. I certainly do. But you think about what I’ve said now. Things could turn sour, and I’d hate for that to happen.”
“Huh,” I said. “That sounds like a threat.”
He met my eyes squarely, not blinking. For a flash, I saw it. The willingness to kill. I know it. I’ve seen it enough times.
“No threat, Titus,” he said. “Just concern for my daughter.”
He turned away and walked out the door.
“I’m not done, Rex,” I said. “I don’t know that Allie is safe. I’ll ask you again. Where is she so I can talk to her and confirm everything you say?”
Rexford J. Hayes didn’t like me calling him Rex. Nor question his version of how things should go. The stare when he turned back to face me said so.
“We’ll see, Titus,” he said without inflection, “we’ll see.”
His tone was dismissive now, like he’s dismissing the gardener.
I watched him walk to the gold Escalade. He got in and slowly drove away. I drank the rest of my drink. Then, I poured another.
Shit, something is off here, way off. The lies are swirling around, circling for a place to land. Seems like everybody in Miami is lying. And they all want me to stop looking for Allie Hayes.
I picked up the check and looked at it.
Holy fuck.
It’s double what Pam Hayes gave me, which is double what I originally asked for.
A sinking sensation surrounded me again. I felt buried. Is this how it feels when people are about to be killed? I downed my drink and poured another, getting the feeling I wouldn’t be joining Luther for a run in the morning.
I grabbed a plastic chair, brought it outside to the dank little courtyard, and placed it under the sea grape tree. Surrounded by once-white blocks laid in a perforated pattern, the space was a square of dirt filled with years of fallen leaves. I sat, cradling my plastic cup, the world taking on that warm bourbon-infused glow. I wondered where my little lizard buddy lives.
I looked at the check again. I should just cash this. I mean, really, why not? That’s a freighter-load of money. More than I’ve ever made in a year. More than I’ve ever even considered to be mine, all mine. How can I ignore that?
I saw a flash of myself on a beach, surrounded by a group of bikini-clad girls. Maybe I’ll buy a home in Costa Rica and sip mojitos all day. Or maybe I’ll buy a whole island, what the hell.
Why go on playing these games? They all lead to the same place. To misery, to death. Why not just get out? Why not just escape? Go, Titus, go. Get the fuck out. Forget everything. Just enjoy what remaining days you have left. Move to an island, live with some island girls, have island babies, forget the past.
I sipped my bourbon, remembering Mel Gibson as Fletcher Christian in the movie The Bounty. He threw away his ship, his command, and his life—just so he could live in paradise with a girl who wore flowers in her hair and little else anywhere.
I picked up the check and gave it a long loving look.
Then, I tore it in half.
No, I can’t live on blood money. I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again. Plus, an amount like that tells me I’m getting close. Too close for somebody. Having come this far, I can’t not figure it out. I will figure it out. I need to figure it out.
Not to mention that fat mutant baby really pissed me off. Tommy Nero thinks he can order me around. He didn’t tell me the whole story. He’s in deeper here. If it were only a matter of catching his boy Eddie Corrado skimming, he wouldn’t watch him walk around and bring people in to ask about him. Eddie would already be digested by swamp gators.
I sipped some more.
And this fat fuck Rexford J. Hayes. Fuck him. Nobody pays me off. Nobody pays me to snitch. Nobody pays me to look the other way. Nobody pays me to not do my job, ever.
If I don’t have me, then what’s it all worth anyway? If I’m living, then I’m living for who I am, what I stand for, what I believe. Not to get paid to deny my very existence. If I gave in, I wouldn’t be an authentic man. I’d be a dead man.
So what is an authentic man? A man who lives by his own beliefs and his own rules. A man who respects life and liberty. A man who sits in dank courtyards drinking bourbon while looking for little lizards.
I was about to tear the check into smaller pieces when I saw the name on it. I held the two halves of the check together to read it.
A business name. Foundation Investments LLC with a downtown Miami address. Hm. If there’s one lesson that led to more arrests than any other when I was a cop, it was Follow the money.
At that moment, the upstairs couple kicked into Act One, derailing my train of thought.
That’s it. That’s fucking it.
I went up the outside stairs to their door and knocked on it. Everything went silent. I waited. And waited. Then, I knocked again. Nothing.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Open up!”
More silence.
“Hey!” I said, knocking harder. “I’m your downstairs neighbor.”
The door opened with the chain attached. I thought about busting it, but I retained enough self-control to look at the short Latino kid grimacing at me in the three-inch space. He was shirtless and covered in tattoos. Muscular for his small frame. Probably eighteen years old, maybe a little younger.
“I’ve had enough,” I said. “The two of you need to quiet the fuck down.”
“Nobody here but me, señor,” he said with a smile, challenging me.
“Look,” I said, my fists itching to beat him, “I know it’s a huge turn-on to argue and then fuck, but the two of you need to lay off.”
“Nobody here but me, señor,” he said again, a bigger smile this time.
“Just take a break. You’re going to wear it out.”
He spouted something off in fast Spanish that sailed right past me, although I did pick out the phrase mama pinga. People love calling me that, don’t they?
“And you’re a fucking asshole,” I said.
He pulled a knife. Oh, not again. No, I can’t do this here. This is where I sleep. Or try to, anyway.
“Hey,” I said with my hands up, “I don’t want to fight you. I’m your neighbor. I sleep downstairs from you. We live here together. All I’m asking for is just a little quiet. You respect me and I respect you, okay? No trouble, okay?”
His eyes held mine as he streamed another flow of Spanish.
I turned and headed down the steps, attempting to talk myself into forgetting about it, but the bourbon sparked a fire that burned up within me and I marched back, occupying the space an inch from his face.
“No, I talk to you, motherfucker!” I said. “You. I’m giving you one warning. You stop now, or you will regret it. Entiendo?”
He glared at me, breathing hard. This time, I could see that, even though he was holding the knife, he was the scared one. He saw the crazy in me. Good. That’s how I want it. I went down the stairs and inside to my kitchen counter.
I poured another drink and went back outside to my plastic chair. I sat down and lit a cigarette. The air was so thick I felt like I could reach out and grab a handful of it.
Now, where was I? Something about lizards and money. Obsessively, I began looking around for my buddy on the ground when into my field of vision walked painted turquoise toenails in glittery sandals. I looked up, a fire lighting in my crotch at the sight. A curvy blonde tanned girl in white shorts and a turquoise tank top, neither covering much of anything.
Oh, fuck, no. No, no, no.
“Hi,” said Bri, stretching hi into two syllables and posing with a hand on her hip.
Her blonde curls glowed in the setting sun. The glitter she had sprinkled all over herself was turquoise to match the tank top, the toenails, and the glowing lipstick. Fantastic choices all. I smelled something coconutty.
No, Titus, no. Don’t do it.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?” I said, aware that my words had
no spaces between them.
“Shhhhhh,” she said with a finger over her glowing lips, taking full advantage of my bourbon-induced vulnerability. She took a step toward me and straddled my lap.
I thought about protesting, but couldn’t find words, especially with her tongue dancing around in my mouth and her crotch grinding on mine.
We finished the bourbon together.
SIXTEEN
“YOU’RE REALLY PISSING ME OFF!” SAID SOFIA BEHIND the wheel of the unmarked SUV.
“Take a number,” I said, hung over again, sitting in the passenger seat sipping an iced coffee. “I’m first in line.”
We were speeding along the MacArthur Causeway past the big cranes, the rumble of the tires on the blinding asphalt twirling my brain into a vortex of pain.
Sofia had called me when I was at my emergency Starbucks yet again, picking up iced coffee for yet another twenty-one year old girl who landed on my airbed. Sofia said she needed to talk to me and picked me up about a minute later. Now we seem to be on some surreal joyride that’s bending reality into a haze of nausea.
“Why are we speeding, officer?” I said.
“Because I’m fucking aggravated,” Sofia said.
“Do you always take your aggressions out with speed?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I gripped the hand rests, the equilibrium of the SUV way off, like the sensation of floating on a sea. The water on both sides of the highway only added to the sickly illusion.
Sofia sounded the lights and siren at an old lady in a Honda Civic who wasn’t moving out of the way. The Civic slowly moved right and we leaped past it.
“You are causing a problem,” said Sofia.
“I was born causing a problem,” I said, attempting to sip my iced coffee but continually missing the straw due to the rollicking lane-shifts.
“I was called into the lieutenant’s office this morning. She wanted to know about you.”
“Who is your lieutenant?”
“You don’t want to know!” The fury of her voice exploded in my head. I think a vein burst somewhere.
“Okay,” I said. “Why does the OCS lieutenant want to know about me?”
Miami Burn Page 11
