Deep

by C. N. Phillips

  Quinton flexed his muscles right before he reached out and opened the door to his parole officer’s office. He would have rather been anywhere but there, but he knew it was a term of his early release; and, for the sake of his daughters, he would abide by the rules. Still, he was agitated because all he could think about were all of the things his kids needed. Rhonnie’s jeans were too short and Ahli needed some new tennis shoes before hers fell all the way apart. It hurt his heart to be living the way that they were, but he was doing the best that he could. He couldn’t move the way that he wanted to in the streets, no matter how much his hands itched because they needed to be put to work. He was on papers still and the last thing he wanted was to be sent back to prison and have his kids in foster care.

  “On time as usual I see, Quinton,” Quinton’s parole officer, Beverly Nichols, said when she saw him.

  “Yeah,” Quinton said, walking up to her desk. He grabbed the cup that had his initials on it. “Just tryin’a get this done and over with so I can go home.”

  “I see,” Beverly said, standing up from her desk and eyeing the handsome man. She always looked forward to her monthly meeting with him because he was the only man who made her blood boil. It turned her on to see him walk in there in his Ralph Lauren getup, but it turned her on even more to hear his deep baritone voice speak.

  Although he had done some questionable things to get him to where he was then, it didn’t take from the knowledge that was embedded in his head. Whenever she spoke to him she felt like a student and, to her, he was so sexy because of his intellect. The only thing stopping her from letting him bend her over her desk was the fact that she needed her job; still, she knew it would happen one day. She walked Quinton to the bathroom and waved him inside. She stood in the doorway and, as usual, waited for him to do his thing.

  Quinton felt Beverly’s presence behind him as he whipped his monster out so that he could do what he came to do. The sound of him urinating filled the office bathroom and he looked over his shoulder at Beverly and saw that her eyes were glued to his third leg. He smirked to himself, shaking his head. Beverly was a beautiful woman with a nice, shapely body, but to him she had nothing on Rhebecca. Honestly, in his mind, nobody did.

  When he was done he zipped his pants back up and screwed the top on the bottle. After setting it down on the sink next to the toilet he washed his hands.

  “There you go,” he said, walking out of the bathroom and nodding toward the sink. “Anything else you need from me?”

  Your dick inside of me, Beverly wanted to say, but instead she offered up a kind smile and motioned for him to take a seat at her desk with her. She sat in her big, comfy black rolling chair while he sat in a stiff, wooden one opposite her. He placed his hands on his knees versus her desk and watched her thumb through the folder that was in front of her.

  “Hmmm,” she said, eyeing the paperwork in her hands.

  Quinton impatiently tapped his foot and checked the clock on the wall. It was almost three o’clock and he knew that the school bus would be dropping the girls off soon. He didn’t like for them to be home alone in the neighborhood they lived in, so he was hoping that Beverly would hurry the meeting up.

  “It says here that you don’t have any kids. When are you going to settle down and have some children, Quinton?”

  Beverly’s question caught him off guard. He looked at her like she was crazy. “What? I d—” he started so say.

  “A fine man like you would make some beautiful babies,” she interrupted him. “Settle down, get married. Despite your bad choices you seem like a good man.”

  “Can I . . .” Quinton motioned toward the paperwork. “Can I see those for a second?”

  Beverly handed him the paperwork and he glimpsed over it. Sure enough his file stated that he was a thirty-seven-year-old single man with a felony for burglary. Nowhere in the paperwork did it say that he had children. His brow furrowed a bit as he tried to make sense of it; but after a few seconds it hit him.

  “Rhebecca,” he said in a voice so low that only he could hear it.

  It slipped his mind that Rhebecca never allowed him to sign the girl’s birth certificates. And although they were under his name at the school they went to, that never got reported back to the law, since legally paternity was never proven for either of them. He and Rhebecca both agreed that it was the best way to protect them from their pasts. He handed Beverly the file back and shrugged his shoulders casually.

  “I don’t know.” He smiled to himself, standing. “I don’t know what kid would be able to handle me as a father. Are we done for the day? I have to get going.”

  “You’re always in a rush to get up out of here.” Beverly winked at him. “I don’t bite.”

  “But I do,” he said, heading toward the door. “Have a good day, Beverly.”

  Walking out of her office he went straight toward his 1997 Crown Vic. He thought about his oldest daughter. She thought that he didn’t know that she was robbing the grocery stores blind just to put food in the house. He also thought about Rhonnie. She thought that he didn’t know about her picking pockets just so that she could slide an extra twenty in his wallet for gas.

  Things had been so hard on them since Rhebecca died, and he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove up Fifty-sixth Street just thinking about it. This wasn’t the life that they wanted to give their girls, nor was it the life that he promised to give them. Him not knowing whether he was going to get or keep a job or be able to even put dinner on the table that night. Them having to be subjected to a life of struggle when they used to never have to worry about a thing. He promised Rhebecca on her deathbed that he would take care of them by any means necessary. It was finally time to show and prove.

  In Quinton’s day, when Ahli was a baby and Rhonnie wasn’t even thought about, he was what they called the “Lick Man.” It started when he and Rhebecca first got together under unruly circumstances. They ran away together with nothing but themselves and a baby in tow. He had to feed his family somehow. Being the Lick Man, he was the person called for high-priced armed robberies, whether it was for material possession or just information. His body count was high due to the precision of his aim and because he always got the job done. He never kept anything from the places he robbed; he was a hired hand and collected his fee prior to every job. For years his jobs were precise; however, he messed up the last hit he ever did alone.

  The job was to break into a lawyer’s house and get all the files on the case he was working on against the man who had hired Quinton. His calculations on the house were all wrong. He didn’t expect the housekeeper to be there and he hesitated at pulling the trigger. His eyes had gone to her round, pregnant belly and she reminded him immensely of the family he had at home. That split second of hesitation cost him everything because she was able to run off and call the police. They caught him a few blocks away. Although the judge couldn’t connect him with any prior robberies he was still sentenced to ten years. He was blessed to see the birth of Rhonnie before they took him away.

  He knew that he couldn’t move the way he wanted to, especially since they let him out after only doing five years and he was still on probation. For six years after his release he and his family lived the American Dream. They had the house in the suburbs of Nebraska, the cars, and even the white picket fence. Rhebecca was a woman who held him down, but when she died he realized they couldn’t afford living the way that they were. It wasn’t right.

  He stroked his facial hair and nodded. He sighed and at that moment he made a decision. Pulling out his phone he dialed a number and as the phone rang he held his breath.

  “Hello?” a familiar voice said on the other end.

  Lance McGee was Quinton’s oldest friend, and also the person who aligned him with everyone he had done jobs for in the past.

  “I’m ready,” Quinton stated simply.

  “Got tired of mopping them floors, huh?” Lance chuckled into the phone. “Well, let’s get this set t
hen. I’ll text you an address where we can meet and talk in person.”

  “Okay,” Quinton said. “But it won’t just be me. I have a new proposition for you.”

  Lance paused again on the other end, as if he pondered Quinton’s words. “All right,” he said finally. “Be looking out for my text.”

  “Bet. One.” Quinton disconnected the phone and tossed it in the passenger’s seat.

  Just because he couldn’t move like he used to didn’t mean that they couldn’t. He was going to teach Rhonnie and Ahli everything he knew about armed robbery. And, that time around, they would keep everything.

  That night when he went home he sat both of his daughters down and told them the complete truth about who he was and why he was locked up for five years of their lives. He explained to them that their “uncle Lance” was not really their uncle and that they had once done gritty business together. He told them that when they were living well in the big house out West, it was because he was a high-paid burglar and their mother had money saved up. After he got released from prison too many eyes were on him, so he couldn’t get money like he used to . . . but they could.

  “So you want us to rob people?”

  “Yes,” Quinton answered Ahli bluntly. “But not just anybody. The rich, and you will give to the poor: yourselves. You deserve the world, don’t you? Sometimes the only way to get it is to take it. You will be hired hands, your uncle Lance will set up the jobs, and your hits will be calculated. You will have to be trained.”

  “Will you teach us?”

  From where he sat across from them he studied their faces. Their expressions reflected that of an undying allegiance. He couldn’t fail them. All he wanted to do was provide for them. He would do anything for them to be happy, except the one thing that would take him from them for the rest of his life. Instead, he would show them how to be better than him. They had no records and, if he could help it, they would never get caught.

  “Of course. Everything I know so that you can learn from my mistakes. A few jobs to get us on our feet and we’re out. If you ever want to stop, we’re out.”

  “What about Beverly?” Ahli asked him. “Won’t she be suspicious if she suddenly sees you with a lot of money?”

  “I will continue to work odd jobs to keep eyes from lingering on us longer than they should. You won’t have to worry about me. But I need the two of you to understand this world is very dangerous. There is nothing fun about it and it can be a deadly game.”

  “I saw a crackhead get murdered last week by her supposed friend,” Rhonnie said under her breath. “And a group of gang members shoot some kid in the neck the next day. Just by living here we are already part of a deadly game.”

  Rhonnie and Ahli looked at each other first and then around at their shabby, tiny apartment. Tears came to Rhonnie’s eyes and she took her sister’s hand.

  “I don’t want to live like this anymore, LaLa. I want life to go back to how it was when Mom was alive. If we stay here it could be us out in the street bleeding out because of a stray bullet.”

  Ahli hugged her sister close and then looked back to her father with certainty in her eyes.

  “Okay. We’re in, Daddy.”

  The rest was history. Quinton snapped out of his flashback and smirked to himself. He had indeed taught his daughters everything he knew and they had developed a few of their own tricks. They were anyone’s best shooters’ worst nightmare, and unlike him they never messed up on a job. He trained them for a whole summer before he let them go on their first job. He taught them how to fight and he also taught them how to shoot with precision.

  The thing about his daughters that saddened him the most with it all was that they never once questioned him or acted afraid. The times had hardened their hearts, and their surroundings made it no better. The one-bedroom apartment they lived in was in a bad neighborhood in North Omaha. The things they saw were things no teenager should have ever seen. Ahli should have been preparing to go off to college and Rhonnie should have been preparing for the ACT; but their reality consumed them, and the only thing that mattered was survival.

  Checking the clock in his car he saw that he had a little over ten hours left to go in the drive. Placing his sunglasses over his eyes he leaned back in his leather seat and steered with one hand. He trusted Lance and was eager to get the drop over with. The only thing on his mind was the money, no matter the cost.

  They drove the next ten hours straight through and only stopped for gas or food. Once they got to the hotel Rhonnie and Ahli were beyond tired. Quinton didn’t want to be in town longer than needed, so both girls wanted to capitalize off of what might have been their one and only opportunity to sleep. They could vacation and sightsee at a later date.

  The time read six thirty in the morning and both girls dropped their bags at the door of the hotel room. Exhausted, they fell onto one of the queen-sized beds in the spacious room. Ahli lay on her back with her head resting on one of the fluffy pillows, while Rhonnie sprawled out across the bed with her head on Ahli’s stomach.

  “Should we go get that from the car?” She yawned and stretched out.

  “No,” Ahli said matter-of-factly. “Nobody knows it’s there and if somebody tries to break into the car I’ll get a notification to my phone. Plus, Daddy said leave it in the car.”

  Rhonnie rolled her eyes at her sister. Ahli was always downloading new apps to her phone that nobody else would even think to download. “Okay, phone wiz, just make sure your sound is on so that we don’t miss Daddy’s call. Knowing him he ain’t even coming straight to the hotel anyway.”

  “I’m already knowing. I’m just going to set my alarm for us to wake up in two hours. By then I’m sure he’ll be ready for the drop.”

  “And then back on the road we go,” Rhonnie mumbled sleepily. Her eyes were already closed and she put her arm over her face.

  “With all that money,” Ahli said and smiled before she too closed her eyes and succumbed to a much-needed slumber.

  Chapter 3

  Quinton knew his daughters like the back of his hand. He was positive that neither was currently waiting for his phone call. He could bet his life that both of them were passed out in the same bed catching some much-needed Z’s. He hadn’t planned on going directly to the hotel anyway so he didn’t mind too much, as long as they were ready when he called.

  Instead of going to the hotel and catching up on his own sleep Quinton decided to go scope out the area that he would be at with his daughters in some hours. Not because he didn’t trust Lance’s connections, but because he was a man to never go into a situation blind. The last thing he wanted to do was lead his only children into an ambush.

  He drove toward the address in Overtown that Lance had given him, only to find out that he couldn’t turn down the street that he needed because it was completely blocked off. Lance had warned Quinton over the phone that the whole neighborhood was its own city. The king of the hood, Dot, didn’t take too kindly to strangers. He was as ruthless as they came and an invite was required to get into the neighborhood. If you were not expected then there would be no questioning; you would die on sight.

  Quinton, of course, then questioned what Dot’s hold on the law was. Certainly the police were constantly patrolling the area to scope out any wrongdoing, but evidently he was wrong. Dot had the law sewn up to the point where they didn’t even look his way if they didn’t have to. Lance told him that any detective who had come after Dot was on the memorial wall at the station, and because of that he was allowed to do business in peace. That right there let Quinton know what kind of man he was dealing with, and it was exactly the reason why he had to come and scope out the surroundings.

  To the normal eye it just seemed like the street was having some construction done to it, but Quinton’s eyes trained on something the average eye wouldn’t. He drove as close as he could to the roadwork so that he could see past the signs and dug-up concrete. Focusing his eyes on the first house, about twenty feet a
way, he made out a man through the window of the enclosed porch. Although Quinton wasn’t able to make out the man’s face he could see that he was walking back and forth on the porch with a gun. If he could give his best guess, Quinton would say that it was an AK-47 with a banana clip. Once he saw all that he needed to, he pulled unnoticed away from the block and headed back the way of the hotel. On the drive he couldn’t help but think that it had been a good decision to buy the girls new guns.

  He pulled up to the hotel an hour later and parked his car in the parking lot that was specifically for guests. The sun had only been up for a short while but the summer heat was already beating down on his forehead. It didn’t take him long to grab his overnight bag and start his short walk to the rotating doors. He clicked a button on his keys and waited until he heard his door lock behind him before he vanished inside of the building. Once he got to his room all he wanted to do was enjoy the king-sized bed and the beautiful view, but time wouldn’t permit it. Instead he pulled out the travel suit bag from his luggage and tossed it on the bed. Before he got ready to get in the shower he sent both Ahli and Rhonnie a text to make sure they were up: Get ready. We leave in an hour.

  “Daddy said hurry up!” Rhonnie read her father’s text and summarized it in her own words.

  She and Ahli were already back up, thanks to Ahli and her alarm clock. Sometimes Rhonnie felt like her preciseness was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because they were always on time with everything but a curse because Rhonnie would kill to get an extra hour of sleep. She was still sprawled out on the bed while Ahli was in the bathroom of their room taking a shower. Rhonnie had been listening to the constant sound of running water when she felt her phone vibrate beside her head. Deciding that it was time to cut her sister’s shower adventures short, she jumped up and grabbed the clothes she would be wearing for the day.