All This Time

by Marie Wathen

  “Get it together,” I encourage while tying the string of my top around my neck. I drop the hair band on the counter top and step outside. It’s too cold to swim, but Decks keeps his pool heated during the winter so I dive in and find a good pace as I skim atop the crystal clear water.

  Avoiding thoughts of Blues, I work through the details of this assignment and know that soon I will have to break through with one of the members. I need someone in tight with the X’kapz to trust me enough to roll over on this whole organization. The dream scenario would be for Blues to give up everything on Nelson since he probably knows the most. Then we can move him into witness protection. Since he was once a police officer I doubt he would take the deal. He has apparently been through too much to give a damn about helping others anymore and is now a selfish bastard. Whatever Wise’s deal is, I’m not sure he’s high up enough on the totem pole to provide specifics to shut down an operation of this magnitude. That leaves me with Decks. He knows everything and is in the deepest with the family connection. Apparently he likes to be a hands-on kind of guy since he works the trap house and is now setting up the new host houses.

  What could he be up to with Mad Hatter? I know he doesn’t need a two timing piece of shit like that working his sell house, the fucker would use up all of his drugs. Working in the storage house wouldn’t be much better since it would be like a fucking Costco wholesale warehouse to him. His involvement with Mad must be related to the flight out to the Atlantic coast. Whoever this new investor is must be bringing in something more than Nelson has to offer with his Mexican cartel connections. This shit is getting weirder by the day.

  Finishing up my swim, I rush through another shower and dress casually for my probation meeting and grab my gear off the table in the front foyer. Just before starting my bike I spot Blues jogging behind me in the middle of the road. I switch on the ignition and roll down the driveway. He has already passed me when I pull down to the main road, but stops and turns around toward me. A big grin spreads across his face as his eyes devour me on my motorcycle. I smile smugly knowing that I am any guy’s fantasy at this precise moment, but even more so for Blues. He’s had me in his bed so he knows I can handle this beast between my legs. Blues stands there, his chest heaving and sweat rolling down his glorious, nearly nude body looking like my exact fantasy too. Our eyes meet and he drops his grin to something a lot more sinister.

  I’m sure that he’s thinking about replacing the beast that’s positioned between my legs which is exactly why I need to stay away from him. If we start something while I’m trying to get Decks’ cooperation it will fuck up everything. I tilt my chin upward, acknowledging him as I pass by and then gun the hell out of the throttle. The ride into town isn’t far from Decks’ place. I park in the adjacent parking lot and then walk into the probation office.

  “May I help you?” the sweet lady behind the front desk asks.

  I smile and nod, “Yes ma’am. I’m here to meet with my P.O. My name is Angel Johnson.”

  “Have a seat and I’ll notify Mr. Stevens that you are waiting.”

  “Thank you.” I take a seat next to the other twenty people in the small waiting room.

  “Ms. Johnson,” a heavyset man announces, poking his head around the door leading down the hallway toward the back offices.

  I rise and say, “That’s me.”

  “I’m Mr. Stevens,” he states. “Follow me.”

  We walk all the way to the back of the hall and he turns down another long corridor leading me past all of the private offices. When we reach the administrators office, he pushes open the door and gestures me inside. I spot Russ immediately.

  “This room is clean, no video surveillance,” Mr. Stevens assures, closing the door behind him and leaving us alone.

  “So Decks and Mad Hatter? That’s fucked up.” Russ grins staring up at me from his seat behind the desk.

  “Yep, I’m a little freaked out about it. Something isn’t adding up about his involvement with the X’kapz.” I take the open seat in front of him.

  “You won’t like what I’m about to tell you, but we have an unreliable giving up some pretty good information on Mad working for someone under Dr. A’s direct order.”

  I stare at him and wonder what in the hell has gotten into my department. First the Captain and now Russ is buying into the bullshit story of Dr. A being real. Plus, this implausible fact was given to him by a nark that hasn’t proved to be a reliable source of information. A new awareness moves through my mind and I wonder if Decks could be putting himself into some kind of new danger. The stories surrounding the infamous drug lord, combined with Mad Hatters involvement doesn’t settle well in my belly.

  Relenting to the possibility that there may be something seriously messed up going on, I sigh before asking, “Who is the source?”

  “Arch Bishop,” he says beaming with pride and I shake my head, disbelieving that he can trust anything that the well known storyteller inside the X’kapz says.

  Chapter Thirty

  Three days pass with no word from Decks. I don’t have feelings for the drug dealer in the least bit. However, after hearing Russ’ fearful concerns about this new drug shipping into the US, I might begin to worry about the legitimacy of the legendary cockamamie story and what it all could mean for my safety.

  According to some of the reports, Russ gathers that the drug known as Ryske is being manufactured in England and then shipped into the states through small islands. Drug runners find vacant beach front houses to store the drugs in until they can push them onto the local drug dealers while sending small packages into the states by personal watercraft. It’s easier to sneak a small boat passed the watchful eye of the coast guard than a large shipping vessel.

  Hospitals around the east coast have seen a rash of deaths along with unexplained behaviors from the usage of Ryske. With little to go on since they haven’t seized any shipments yet, all the DEA can tell us at this point is that the drug is a deadly mixture of illegal amphetamines, sedatives and an undetermined substance. The drug users’ description of the effects it is having on them has the doctors believing that it must be a man made mind manipulator, affecting each person differently. Lucky for our side of the drug war, not many shipments have been delivered into North America. The unlucky part is that not once has the coast guard busted a boat transporting the shit either.

  On my ride back to Decks’ house after leaving Russ, I recall my first day at the grungy trap house and remember Lourdes bitching about the decline of their sales of cocaine because of some risky drug. Clearly she wasn’t too familiar with it at the time. But if my gut is correct Decks is one of the locals in Georgia who will be signing up to receive and distribute Ryske. If so, we’ll all become very familiar with it soon.

  Sitting at my booth at the tattoo shop waiting for my next client to arrive, I get a text from Natalie asking if I’m interested in joining them for a drink at Holidays tonight and I tell her that I’ll drop by after work around ten. I drop my phone into my bag and spot a young woman entering through the front door. With our front desk girl on another cigarette break, I assist her.

  “Hey, welcome to the TatHouse. Do you have an appointment?” I ask, pulling up the schedule on the computer.

  She smiles sweetly and bobs her head yes, making her cork screw reddish brown curls bounce wildly. “Yes, I believe I’m with Angel.”

  “That’s me,” I say before turning and walking around the counter to join her. “You must be Chelsea.”

  “I am.”

  “Do you have something in mind or do you need some time to look through the drawings?”

  “I know what I want.” She unfolds a piece of paper and thrusts it at me. “Can you do this?”

  I glance down at the paper and decipher the Spanish words, esperando en un angel, porque no quiero ir sola into “waiting for an angel, because I don’t want to go alone” scrolling down like a stem from the rose above it.

  “It’s cool. Do you know wher
e it’s going and what color you want the rose?”

  She nods and thrusts both thumbs toward the space between her shoulder and right breast. “Yep, right here and I want the rose red.”

  “Okay, let’s get started then.”

  After prepping everything, I get Chelsea set up at my station and apply the transfer to her pale skin. Hoping to keep her mind off the pain, I get her talking casually about general bullshit for the first few minutes.

  “Where are you from Chelsea?”

  “Alabama. I moved here about two months ago. I visited with some friends back in the spring and met a really cool dude. He let me move in with him and we’re kind of getting serious.” She smiles sweetly, her dark brown eyes light up while talking about her new love interest.

  “That’s cool. Are you in school or working in the area?”

  She shakes her head and I watch her smile fall. “No, I left school a few months ago and worked around at a lot of places before moving. I just haven’t found my thing yet.”

  “Your thing? What is it you like to do?”

  “I love to draw and hang out with cool people. I would love to work in a place like this one.”

  “Yeah, it’s a great place to work at. My boss is totally the best.” I grin, finishing up the outline of her rose. “Do you need a break?”

  “Can I get a quick smoke?”

  “Absolutely, I’ll grab something to drink and be back here in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?” I toss my rubber gloves into the trash and fish in my pocket for some cash.

  “Water?” Chelsea asks and I nod.

  We step outside together, she goes around the side of the building toward her car and I cross the street after the traffic light at the intersection changes to red, halting the heavy flow of vehicles. I grab our waters and head back over to the shop, bumping into my boss rushing out the front door.

  “Hi ya, Trevor,” I say, jumping out of his way.

  “In a hurry Angel,” he says quickly. I push open the door and laugh at him because he’s always in a hurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After another fifteen minutes Chelsea doesn’t show and I begin to wonder if the girl skipped out on me. I glance over at the other artist, currently working on a full back design as I walk toward the front door. Chelsea step through before I have a chance to open it.

  “There you are,” I say watching her eyes languidly land on me as she smiles.

  “Sorry,” is all she offers, as we return to my station.

  “This is the worst part,” I say, starting the fill in on her design.

  “Yeah, I have others. I can handle it,” Chelsea says smiling. “I see your diamond on your wrist. Does it have meaning behind it?

  “They’re unbreakable, sort of a goal of mine,” I answer honestly.

  “Do you have others?”

  I nod before answering, “Yeah, I have ten in all.”

  “Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed that many.” Her eyes sparkle with shock.

  “Really?” I frown, “Why not?”

  She shrugs her shoulder and I pull back so I don’t screw up her tattoo. “I don’t know. You just don’t look like the type of chick to get so many tattoos.”

  I laugh. “What type of girl do you think I am?”

  “The good type,” she says flatly, glancing away from me. “Definitely not like me.”

  “Aw, I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “Nah, I’m a waste of space according to my ex-boyfriend, but you’re like freaking perfect.”

  While shaking my head, I growl before snapping on her, “Fuck perfect! There’s no chance in hell that I’m perfect. Looks are totally deceiving Chelsea.” I lean down, starting on her design again. “Don’t buy into that shit your ex is feeding you either. People say bullshit all of the time to just hurt others. He is your ex after all and there’s a reason for that. Clearly he wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “Shit. I doubt I’ll ever find the one. Mr. Perfect doesn’t exist for me. Have you ever been in love?” Chelsea asks, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Nope, and I’m not looking either.”

  “You don’t have to look.” I quirk an eyebrow up and wonder what the hell her statement means. She giggles, causing her chest to bounce and I stop working again. “Have you ever once looked in the damn mirror? I bet guys fucking throw themselves at your feet.” She continues to giggle and then slurs, “I would love to look like you.”

  “It’s not at all like that for me. If guys were that ridiculous I wouldn’t date them for sure. I like guys who have a shred of self-respect and can handle themselves in every situation.” I watch her eyes glaze over and shift the subject. “Besides you are adorable. I’m sure you get more than your fair share of hot guys. I bet other women hate you for being so damn tiny and a total bombshell.”

  “No, not really. The only thing…” She slides her eyes close as her words trail off.

  “Chelsea?” I ask, watching her eyes open into a slit. “Are you okay honey?”

  She smiles weakly, “Yeah, I think I buzzed.”

  “What?” I keep my voice controlled, hoping that I don’t freak her out while studying her. “You must be on some good shit.”

  Chelsea nods and her grin widens, “Yeah, my roommate hooked me up with some Ryske last night. It’s a freaking crazy ride.”

  “Shit,” I mumble, but recover quickly. “I’ve heard of it, but haven’t come across anyone with a hook up. I might need to meet your friend.” She nods her head, closing her eyes again. “Well Chels’, since you’re wasted I can’t finish this thing today. So we’ll need to reschedule you.” I begin putting away my equipment. “And next time don’t get high until after I’m done.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  After three glasses of twenty year old Kentucky whiskey, I’m tingly enough to succumb to Natalie coercing me to join her on the dance floor. We dance playfully around the floor to the slow jazz music. She gets freaky a couple of times, running her hands down my sides and squeezing my ass, but it doesn’t bother me. She has definitely had a lot to drink tonight. Truly, everyone is having a great time, including me. I finally talked Chelsea into letting me call 911 and have her checked out. They took her to the emergency room and I called before coming to Holidays to check on her status. Since I’m not family they wouldn’t tell me specifics, but said she would be released soon and that bit of information thoroughly calms my anxieties. That scene scared the shit out of me.

  Rolling my hips to the sensual vibes playing on the jukebox, I twist around slowly facing our table. While I’ve been on the floor, Blues arrived. He’s leaning with his back against the large post next to our table watching me while smoking. The heat that shifts through my body with his eyes latched onto me is all consuming and burning hotter than the fire at the end of his cigarette. I smile imagining that he is visualizing peeling off my clothing and wishing that he was taking me hard. Teasingly, my hands roam all over my body and his eyes shift to annoyed. I spin around laughing at how incredibly foolish I’m behaving. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me. It’s not like he is really that interested in me and I know better than to play this dangerous game, but fuck I can’t stop thinking about being with him. I need him again.

  Natalie grabs my arm, pulling me toward the bar. “I need to quench my thirst.”

  I snort, “Me too,” but my reasons aren’t because of our dirty dancing. “Can I get another?” I beg the bartender propping my hip against the high back barstool.

  “I want a Peachtini.” Natalie smiles at him before glancing back at me. “You are a naughty girl Angel.”

  “Whatever,” I laugh hard and shake my head. “You’re really making Wise a crazy man grabbing my ass right in front of his face.”

  “God, he loved that shit. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.” She bounces on her feet while throwing her head back. “I’m so getting some tonight.” Lucky bitch!

  I take my drink, that the bartender p
asses me and sip slowly. Natalie accepts her drink and then turns around stumbling back over to our table. Luckily, Blues isn’t there when we return. Ah, who the hell am I’m kidding? I’m absolutely crushed, but what disappoints me even more is finding Lourdes with a snarky glare sitting mixed in among my group.

  “Hi Lourdes,” Natalie giggles, taking her seat and sliding over for me to join her in the booth.

  “Hello,” Lourdes replies, watching both of us with a suspicious spark in her eyes. “Who was that display for?” She asks Natalie, but I respond instead.

  “That was for us.” I smile sweetly. Pushing her annoyance with me is one of the easiest things to do. “We don’t do anything for anyone else.” I bump Natalie playfully and she smiles while nodding her head in agreement.

  “Interesting,” Lourdes snaps through a forced grin, leaning forward, “I don’t doubt you do everything with selfish intentions.” She knows that my statement wasn’t anything like what she’s implying. Lourdes is just being a bitch and I’m not going to let her get to me.

  The band begins playing and this time I sit so that I can watch them. Blues isn’t actually in the band. He just joins them on occasion so for now it’s just the three original members. Finally, after a couple of songs Blues is brought on stage, but he isn’t in my direct line of sight. The crowd in front of us blocks him and in order for me to see him, one of us would have to slide over. I catch Lourdes staring at me a few times. After each one she lets her hate filled eyes linger before shifting her full attention back to the band. I just keep replaying the whole conversation between Decks and his aunt, about her hating me because she’s jealous, and keep my mouth shut.

  “Would you like to dance?” A sexy deep voice purrs. I smile after turning and glancing up at Decks.

  “Hey you,” I say, reaching up for his offered hand. “Welcome home.”