Seven o’ clock in the morning, and no cars in the driveway at the address. They pulled in, exited the car quickly, and made it to the door, but not like they were criminals approaching. The door opened as Tylowe was about to knock.
Two young children, who appeared to be twelve years old or so, stood with backpacks. Their eyes showed shock as if they were about to leave for school. Their skin color reminded Tylowe of his stepdaughter’s.
“Can we speak to your parent or parents?” Tylowe asked.
The kids looked at Suzie Q awkwardly; an unknown white woman standing on their porch made them step back in awe. A few whites lived around, but they didn’t come to your door. As a matter of fact, no one came to your house unannounced.
An older woman with light-tannish skin came to the door, and stepped in front of the kids. “Who are you, and why are you at my door?” Her voice was tinged with a French accent. She sent the kids to the kitchen.
Tylowe spoke to her in a soft, caring voice giving a short and informative, but truthful story. They had no intention of coming in and misleading anyone as to why they were there. This extraction was not about taking the kids against their will or forcing anything on anyone. The factual information the woman knew to be true, and it disarmed her. She invited Tylowe and Suzie Q into her home.
“Do you mind if I have a glass of water, eh?” Suzie Q asked.
Suzie Q made a beeline for the kitchen and didn’t wait for an answer.
“Please give the lady a glass of water,” the woman told the kids who followed her into the kitchen.
The lady’s name was Princess Rose, and she had no idea where her niece, Queen, had disappeared to. She had left the kids a year ago. When Queen had brought the kids, it was clear her niece was in some trouble. As far she understood, people wanted Queen and the kids dead. Princess Rose understood the kids were with her because so few knew their bloodline connection.
Suzie Q sat quietly with her head moving slowly from side to side, listening to the kids in the kitchen with her directional- listening sunglasses that she had left in the kitchen. Their conversation transmitted from the sunglasses to the Bluetooth in her ear. “Bring the kids in here,” she said abruptly.
“Are you here to kill us?” Princess Rose asked.
“We don’t kill kids or someone who could be my mother.” A relaxed expression almost seemed to erase away years from Princess Rose’s face. She lived under stress from taking care of the kids and all the uncertainty that might be affecting her health.
Tylowe was a bit amused at Princess Rose’s French accent and Suzie Q’s British-Canadian enunciation.
Princess Rose called the children into the room.
Suzie asked them to repeat what they were talking about in the kitchen. The kids looked amazed, trying to understand how she’d heard them talking from such a far distance.
“You said you were different from the other people. What do you mean?” Suzie asked.
The kids looked scared. Princess Rose said both kids were in the ninth grade. The boy, Cleophus, a handsome young man who looked nothing like Elliot, was the younger one, and had advanced to the same grade as his sister. In Celia, the young lady, Tylowe could see the same beauty as in his stepdaughter, Mia. There was no doubt of the biological relationship.
“Cleophus and Celia, I’m like an uncle; I’m like family. I’m not here to cause you any harm. I’m here to protect you.”
Cleophus spoke assertively. “Do you know the whereabouts of our mother?”
“Son, I do not know, but I will try to find her for you and your sister.” Tylowe nodded his head to the boy and girl. The children fidgeted nervously, and he felt for their young hearts.
“Tell us what you were talking about in the kitchen…please,” Suzie Q asked, but then suddenly held up her finger to her lips. A few seconds went by. Suzie Q whispered with harsh direction, “Get on the floor and keep quiet—not one sound.”
Sitting next to Princess Rose, Tylowe reached to help and to reassure her as she went down to the floor. The kids followed, seeing their great-aunt do as she was told.
“Be quiet; don’t make a sound if you wanna live. Don’t scream or shout, no matter what you think you hear, mates.” Suzie was all about protection and she meant business.
Tylowe’s worst fear didn’t come true. He wasn’t fearful; he was only about the business of being a warrior. He hoped that he and Suzie being there hadn’t put the kids and the old lady in danger, but right now it was about doing what he had to do. Not one bead of sweat rolled down his head or back. He checked his leg holster to release the safety on a .38 snub-nose revolver. The gun was the protection Suzie Q had left for him on his bed, along with a bulletproof vest.
Suzie Q ducked into the kitchen while Tylowe guarded the kids and Princess Rose. They moved, first behind a wall, then into the bathroom. He closed the door behind them, but first put his finger to his lips to remind them to be silent.
Following Suzie Q’s lead, Tylowe crawled on all fours with no clue as to how deep of a situation he was in. He went to the curtains, but didn’t move them: that would be a mistake, and signal of his whereabouts to anyone outside. He moved to the end of the curtain and peeked down the line of sight of the wall. He saw nothing with his limited view.
Pop-swoosh-pop-swoosh sounds, as if someone had stepped on bubble wrap, plus the sound of glass breaking, jarred Tylowe’s heartbeat rhythm. Silence. Two minutes passed. Tylowe had his gun out and pointed up, but not aimed.
“Clear. But, wait five minutes. I’ll be back,” Tylowe heard Suzie Q say.
Four minutes later, she walked back into the living room with a gun with a long silencer attached to her carpenter’s belt. A little blood dripped down her cheek.
“What’s going on, Q?”
“Come in the kitchen so the kids and the old lady can’t hear us.”
Tylowe went to the bathroom door. “Everything is okay, just stay put a little longer. Don’t come out yet. You’re safe.”
Tylowe met Suzie Q in the kitchen.
She was putting her sunglasses back on a sweaty face as she spoke about what had happened. “Earlier, when I asked the kids what they were talking about in the kitchen, I overheard the boy saying someone was watching them, and a man with a funny-sounding accent had approached them.” Suzie Q stopped talking and took several deep breaths, and reached for a glass of water and gulped quickly.
“You okay?” Tylowe asked.
“Yeah, just a little winded. That man had asked them if their mother’s name was Queen. He said no, as they’d been instructed by their great-aunt. The boy also spoke to the man in Spanish, which he had learned quickly in the time they had been here, and had many Spanish-speaking friends.
“Good thing I left my sunglasses in the kitchen, mate. First, for hearing the kids, and then for the footsteps I heard on the terrace after they came in the room with us.” She took another deep breath, and reached for a paper towel and wiped her damp face before she continued to talk with shallow breathing. “We have a man down, a Russian, but he’s not dead. The pain in his ass from two hollow points and me twisting off his nut sac probably makes him wish he was though. His wish is coming true with a few more heartbeats.”
“You’re bleeding on the other cheek. Don’t let the kids see that.”
She quickly searched the cabinets and found some honey. She rubbed it on her cut. “Yeah, I shot through the glass here at the door. A bit blew back. Eh, I’ll be okay. I twisted a little info out of his nuts, but let’s get the kids and the old lady out of here.”
“What about the man you shot?”
“He had a gun drawn, and if you have a gun out, you know the rule. Shoot it, or don’t have it out. He wasn’t here as a Jehovah’s Witness to give away pamphlets. Now put your gun back in your holster.”
“We cannot have him die here on this property, Q.”
“He won’t. I’m trying to catch my breath from carrying him down the alley and putting him in a recyclin
g bin, no blood trail, no tracks leading back here. We’re all right, mate. I carry extra-large garbage bags for the trash.” It dawned on Tylowe why Suzie Q wore workman’s attire. She had added extra-large for the tools of her trade.
Suzie Q got the kids out to the SUV, and Tylowe helped Princess Rose gather clothes, important papers, and a few pictures. He told her he would have a moving company come clean out her house, and store her things safely until her home was secure to return to. They hit the highway.
CHAPTER 17
Raining Drawbacks and Complications
Psalms Black
The Sirius Satellite Radio DJ has a voice like Sammy Davis, Jr., talking in the hip-tones of the sixties. I’m tuned in to The All Sade and Maxwell Monday Show. The DJ recites poems or passages from movies, books, and famous quotes between songs.
“This is DJ Soul Space, and to all those within range of my soul satellite, let me get a little closer to your ear and tell you about a woman I think about hearing from the moment I wake. I have a poem for you, titled ‘Sade.’ ”
SADE…I MISS YOU…IS IT A CRIME
From the Diamond Life of your acoustical sensual aura
You sing to me “Your Love Is King”
You have touched every part me of me as you are the queen of smooth groove,
You “Flow” like no other
I’m a slave to what you say, and how you say it, and how good it feels
Call it foolish maybe even a schoolboy crush…yet I am not ashamed of the jones in my bones for the waterfall of your velvet lips that sing to my heart
You and I, no Ordinary Love, I’ve missed you
All I do is play you while waiting for you
What is old is new
Ageless
I’m tireless of the need for you to whisper in my ear
I’m lost, alongside the road of hit repeat, hitchhiking the airwave of every smooth jazz station I can stop at and request you
The first note, the first song, the first look, and I became a lost boy looking for you
I’ve become a grown man…with a Sade fetish
“Stronger Than Pride,” I have no pride, when it comes to the soul of the 30-plus years of our love affair
I’ll never “Turn My Back On You”
I still love you
“I Cherish The Day”
I ran to buy you
I had to own you
I wanted to know you
In blue hues, an album cover said “Promise” I wore the grooves out
Pinned you to my wall
I don’t recall ever seeing your kind of beauty…ever
You became my video queen
I stalked any image of you
Your long lines curved your body in mental visual frames
Lips wide enough engulf the Blue Nile
Ethiopian eyes
Egyptian stride
Nefertiti backside
Even the turn of your head held my attention
“Nothing Can Come Between Us”
With your sensual allure
Nigerian painted vocal chords
English words steeped deep in passionate soul
“Never As Good As The First Time”
I remember the first time
“Love Deluxe”—it was happy times
Making love to your sultry deliverance heightens the romance of “Hang On To Your Love”
I caught a plane to Toronto
I had to see you Sade
I wanted to be “By Your Side”
Stood in line in the rain for hours, imagining raindrops were kisses from you
The hell with upper deck, I paid three times the face value to be close to you
Three rows away from your femininity
I never closed my eyes
I’m sure our hearts kept the same beat
In a trance, I could hardly breathe as I lay “By Your Side” after we…yeah
You gave me the “Kiss Of Life” in a glance
Our eyes met…
I think…and that’s all that matters
Smooth Operator you were and I know you still are
You stripped me clean of any thought of any others
I wanted to Lovers Rock with you
I had an innocent as deep as a “Cherry Pie” cooling and waiting for my finger to taste your sweetness
You danced, like no other had ever moved me before
Ahhhh, huh…you stepped down and out of your shoes
I wanted to eat the polish from your toes as you pranced
My fixation has never gone away
The times I have stepped through my door to an empty room, I had to play “Somebody Already Broke My Heart”
You make sad songs seem fine
I’m happy hearing you…period
I hear you sing
“It feels fine, so fine, I’m yours, you’re mine, I want to share my life with you”
Thoughts of you are pure “Paradise”
But baby don’t go away
I’ve been waiting, as a “Soldier Of Love”
You give me the “Sweetest Taboo” I want you any way I can have you
I’ll stand in line…underwater
Sade, I miss you
“Is It A Crime”
“As you heard, many Sade song titles as a part of the poem, and we’ll be playing those songs in the coming hours, along with many Maxwell songs. It is said that Maxwell’s music is the male version of Sade’s. However their music touches you, sit back in your car or home on East Coast lunchtime, mid-morning in the middle lands, or West Coast rush hour and feel the groove from DJ Soul Space.”
• • •
Between shifting gears on the freeway in what has to be one of the worst rush-hour cities in the U.S., I get word that the kids and their great-aunt, are safe. All five are on their way back here to Seattle. Q called and told me about some complications, but all is well…at least for now. Troubling news, though, the info she got out of the Russian. If they are so willing to come into a neighborhood where they can stand out… This is not over—far from it.
I get Gabrielle out of here on my plane back to Cali. I don’t own a plane, but the economy of the last few years has rich folks leasing out their toys. Gabrielle will be back in a couple of days, and we are going to spend some time in nature, as we love to do. She loves being outdoors, but that is typically problematic for her when so many people recognize her and won’t give her space, even in open spaces.
I have a fire to put out involving the old man who sleeps in the woods behind my condo and bungalow where Evita stays. He knows to go down to the corner store if he needs me. He is the watchman for my watchdog that is kenneled in the back yard of the bungalow house. My dog knows him and accepts the old man living out back in the woods behind my place. The old man went to the corner store and had them contact me that there was a problem.
I call Evita, and she does not return my calls. It’s not unusual. She does her own thing, and I just let that be. I’m not her husband or her man in the true sense. She is just someone I love dearly.
I keep tabs on her to a certain degree without trying to run her life. She can be troubled. Evita tried to commit…she tried to take her own life once. That was ten years ago, so I do worry about her to a point.
Her office phone message says she is out of the office for the week. Usually that means she’s in Atlanta with her lover. Evita and I cleared the air about her choices. I know Evita swings both ways, and I don’t care. I love the person she is to me, and all she means to me. I met her female lover, Esperanza. She’s from Argentina, but lives in the heart of the Dirty South, in the Inman Park area of Atlanta. She’s an actress who also produces B and independent movies.
Evita, Esperanza, and I have hung out, but Esperanza is possessive of Evita. All I can do is stand back if that’s what Evita wants. There is something that excites her about being in those types of situations. I have to wonder if I acted more possessive toward Evita, would we be
complete lovers? Then I realize, I’m where I am, to be in her life as her protector when I need to be.
Something I don’t understand is why Evita and Suzie Q act like a cat and dog that have to live under the same roof. They never fight or act rude to each other. They can sit in the same room or even sit close, but clearly they don’t like each other.
I can advise Gabrielle on world affairs and spot an enemy out to do harm in most cases. I can do many things that the average person cannot, but I don’t understand those two who are seemingly ready to bite, scratch, and claw. Q won’t even talk to me about Evita. Evita says I’m tripping over nothing.
I assume Evita is in Atlanta, but she should have let me know she was going out of town. My dog is in her care because she wants it there at the bungalow.
I’m driving across the West Seattle Bridge, and it’s raining as if I’m in a carwash. It hasn’t rained this hard in a while. Cars and trucks leak oil and over time it dries, but let it rain like this and it brings the oil up on the road. These fools on the road are weaving and changing lanes with no regard. All of a sudden they are tailgating on slippery, oily roads. I’m glad to get off the bridge and just as I do, Velvet calls.
“What do you want?” I talk crazy to her all the time and she pays me no attention.
“Darcelle has a thing for Big Boy.”
“You’re talking about your friend who I’m helping out of her freaky circus sideshow, and the man, who if one of his arms waves in the air, it would knock her out?”
“You’re talking loud and saying nothing. For a man as smart as you are, I respect you, but your jokes are ill-timed.”
I hate being told off by a woman when I could have kept my mouth closed. Velvet, for all of her impressiveness and importance to my company, can be like a shark in a tank of bloody water. She wouldn’t hold her tongue even if she put her own foot in her mouth and bit it off. Her mouth can chew anyone a new asshole. I let her rant and rave for the most part and stay calm until she calms down.
“Psalms, I’mma let you off the hook today, so be nice. Big Boy, he’s a nice guy, and she needs a likeable guy. Even if it’s not a love connection, Darcelle needs a gentleman to go out on a few dates with to help her see there are sweet guys in this world. And hey, maybe they’ll hit it off.”
One Safe Place Page 13
