Connie Bailey - Miles to Go

by Connie Bailey

  “At least I’ve got one,” Rick muttered. Rick walked outside and down the terraced decks to the pool. Billy was doing laps while Epiphano sat under an umbrella reading a fitness magazine. Returning Epiphano’s nod, Rick jogged down the path across the back lawn to the greenbelt of dogwood and blue spruce. As soon as he thought he was reasonably out of range of listening devices, he took out his cell phone and dialed Graciela’s private number. “Hola, chica,” he said brightly, happy to be talking to a friend. “What’s shakin’? I’ve got a name for you and some info on a new gang of suppliers. Who’s the man?”

  “Rick,” Graciela said. “Hang on a minute, hombre. I have to tell you something.”

  “Damn right, you do. I need any and all information on…” “Rick,” Graciela interrupted. “Listen to me, hermano. Something happened last night.”

  “What?” Rick’s ebullient mood evaporated.

  “There was a bomb,” she said. “At the home of Penelope Fortunato. She’s…”

  “Tell me what happened, Gracie,” Rick interrupted.

  “I’m trying. It was a goddamned drive-by bombing. There was a party…”

  “A birthday party,” Rick interrupted again. “Oh, God, is everyone all right?” “No,” Graciela said. “I’m sorry, Rick. Antonio Marcial was killed shielding his nephew from the blast. Marcial’s bodyguards also perished as a result of… Shit, I sound like a goddamned newsbitch. I’m really sorry, hermano.”

  “What about Penelope? And the kids?” “Hang on.” Rick heard the sound of snuffling and the rustle of tissue. “Sorry. Penelope and her family are fine, but we don’t really have anything to go on as far as who did this. Nobody got a look at the car or anyone in it. The family isn’t talking to the press, as you can imagine. They’re staying at an undisclosed location.”

  “Where?” Rick demanded.

  “Don’t,” Graciela said. “Don’t blow your cover over this. The bombing is being investigated and they don’t need your help.” “I just want to see Penny and tell her…” Rick’s words trailed off. “Right,” Graciela said. “What could you say to her right now? She’s surrounded by cops and her family; she’ll be fine. You just watch out for your fine ass.”

  “Why would I need to do that? You’re watching it for me.” “That’s better,” Graciela said. “Put the bad news away for later.”

  “Sure,” Rick said. “But I think I’m a lot closer to the perpetrator than anyone on the case.”

  “You sure? Carey’s moving up fast, but would he challenge Marcial at this point?”

  “He’s not rational, Gracie,” Rick said. “He may have sent me to see Tonio just to put him off guard. Who knows?”

  “I know that I want Carey more than ever now,” Graciela said. “I got a real hard-on for him.” “Good. Here’s what I know. Carey backed out of his deal with Tonio for a better one. Seems there’s a group of cowboys out there with a butt-load of blow they need to get rid of pronto. My guess is that they hijacked it.”

  “Pendejos! Who would be so loco to steal from drug traffickers?” “I’ll be finding out soon,” Rick said. “Carey invited them here to seal the deal. They actually agreed. They’re either bulletproof, or crazy, like you said.”

  “What about the boyfriend?” “The boyfriend’s got more than one alias, but his real name is Willem Rosen. Try the London cops for information on him, specifically Vice. I get the feeling this kid is not what he seems. For one thing, he tries to hide it, but he’s a lot smarter than your average himbo. Hell, he could be running this outfit using Carey as a beard for all we know.”

  “Some things in life aren’t what they seem,” Graciela said. “Other things are exactly what they seem. Knowing the difference is what we call wisdom.”

  “Is that an old Spanish saying?”

  “I have no idea. It was in some movie I saw. You sound better; you okay?”

  “No Gracie, I’m nowhere near okay, but I’m glad I have someone that cares about me the way you do.” There was a moment of silence and then Graciela spoke, her voice curiously thicker. “It’s my job,” she said. “We’re partners, you worthless cock-hound. Now don’t do anything stupid like confronting Carey about the bomb. I’ll have something for you when you call in again.”

  “Thanks, Gracie. Take care.”

  “Love you, hombre,” Graciela said, but he had already hung up.

  ~ Chapter Six ~

  RICK pocketed his phone and turned to walk back up the slope. As he reached the pool deck, he saw Billy toweling off near the deep end and a group gathered up by the bar. Gareth beckoned, but Billy stopped Rick as the undercover cop passed by him.

  “Hi,” the kid said. “Have a nice jog?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty here,” Rick said. “I’d love to chat, but the boss wants me.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” Billy smiled impishly. Rick frowned slightly at the flirtatious note in the young man’s voice. “I know you come on to other men to make Gareth jealous,” he said. “But you’re wasting it this time. He can’t hear you.”

  “Then you’d better get a move on, hadn’t you?” Billy’s tone went chilly. “You wouldn’t want to make him suspicious.” “Thanks for the reminder,” Rick said as he walked away. As he approached the shaded tables around the bar, Rick cursed himself for not telling Gracie that Billy knew he was a cop. He had his reasons, but he knew it was a mistake that would probably come back to bite him on the ass.

  “Rick!” Gareth called out. “Come and join us. Meet my new friends.” Rick was scoping the strangers as he walked toward them and he didn’t have a good impression so far. The three men were in their early twenties, but they dressed even younger, closer to junior high. Their clothing was pure skate dawg and they had the bed-head look down to an art. Rick stopped trying to count the piercings and tattoos meant to convince the onlooker that these were very bad boys indeed.

  “I hope I get your names right, gentlemen,” Gareth said with exaggerated brightness. “Rick, meet Nathan Fine, Rafael Novacelli, and Flip; it is Flip, right? Flip Hudson, I love it. Together, they’re the Kookie Kutter Krew, with three Ks.” Carey chuckled.

  Rick nodded in a cordial manner, wondering what Gareth was planning. Whatever it was, the boss obviously hadn’t shared it with anyone else. Carey’s light-hearted manner made Rick frankly nervous. Almost as nervous as the way Fine was looking at Rick as though trying to place a familiar face.

  “Don’t I know you?” Fine said.

  “It’s possible you’ve seen me. You watch America’s Most Wanted?”

  “Are you bustin’ on me?” Fine asked with an edge to his voice. “Rick does that,” Gareth said. “I don’t know why I suffer it. However, we’re not here to talk about personnel; we’re here to talk about product.”

  “That’s our cue,” Flip said.

  “I’m not deaf,” Fine said. “Sorry, Gareth. We’re prepared to deliver the product, after you test it, at the amount and price discussed. However…”

  Fine snapped his fingers and Novacelli tore his gaze from Billy’s crotch to fumble in one of the many pockets of his baggy shorts. The morose-looking punk found what he sought and tossed it to Fine. Fine turned back to Gareth, and Novacelli’s gaze swung immediately back to Billy. Rick moved to the other side of the bar, stopping beside the ever-vigilant Epiphano as he watched Gareth Carey discuss business with the new suppliers. Rick didn’t know for certain that Gareth had ordered the bombing of Marcial’s sister’s house, but it was a better than fifty-fifty chance. The undercover cop couldn’t fathom how anyone could blow up an eight-year-old child’s birthday party and not show some sign of it.

  “He’s real pretty,” Rafael Novacelli interrupted Rick’s thoughts, as he came up to the bar. Rick followed the direction of Novacelli’s stare and wasn’t surprised to see Billy. The young man had pulled on a pair of black track pants, but his sculpted upper torso was still bare as he walked toward the bar. Gareth hooked an arm around Billy’s waist and reeled him in as he walked past. B
illy pouted, accepted a kiss on the cheek, and turned to look over his shoulder at the bar. Novacelli thought Billy was looking at him and gazed back like an entranced cobra. Billy raised his hand as though curled around a glass and mimed tossing back a drink.

  “You want to suck me?” Novacelli said in surprise, misunderstanding the hand signals completely.

  Rick turned to look at the punk. “What did you say?” Novacelli’s stare didn’t waver, nor did he answer. He didn’t hear Rick’s question. He was in his own world, a world where Billy was on his knees confessing his irresistible attraction and begging for just a taste of Novacelli’s dick. “I would love it if you sucked me and I’d love to do something really nice for you too,” Novacelli whispered.

  “Hey,” Rick snapped his fingers in the drug dealer’s face. “Who the hell are you talking to, punk?” Epiphano tapped Rick’s shoulder and handed him a tall glass filled with ice and clear liquid. “Make yourself useful,” Epiphano said. “Take Billy a drink.”

  “Keep an eye on that guy,” Rick looked pointedly at Novacelli. “His wheel is spinning, but his hamster died a long time ago.” “I’m keeping both eyes on all of these snot-nosed wigger ratbags,” Epiphano said. “I don’t care how cheap their drugs are; these dickheads are no bargain.”

  Glad he wasn’t the only one worried about the gang, Rick carried the drink to Billy. Gareth threw an arm around Rick’s shoulders and turned him to face the dealers. “What do you think of the Kookies?” Gareth asked.

  “Kutters,” Flip said. “We call ourselves the Kutters.” “Of course you do,” Gareth said equably. “Well, Rick?”

  “These boys look like they could be a real handful,” Rick said. “I’d have to see them work to have an opinion though.”

  “You better hope you never see us go to work,” Fine said. “Most people don’t survive the experience.”

  “Oooh,” Rick shivered. “Real bad boys, aren’t you? I’ll try not to piss you off.” “You’re smarter than you look,” Fine said and then addressed Gareth. “You’ve really got the life, dog. Cushy pad, sweet ride, stonecold soldiers, and this honey on your arm. I won’t be shy; I’ll flat out tell you what’s what. I want what you have.”

  Rick felt Gareth’s muscles tense and readied himself to act, but Gareth chuckled warmly.

  “Of course you do,” he said again. “But you don’t want to get it the same way I did. You want it handed to you.”

  “You’re wrong about that,” Fine said. “We’re willing to do whatever we gotta do.” “Except work for it,” Gareth said. “I’m not trying to wind you up. I’m just making an observation. Why don’t we get back to business for a minute? Let’s settle the details and then we can party properly. Did you know I own a bar?”

  Billy moved from under Gareth’s arm and took Rick by the hand, drawing him a few feet away. “I hate listening to Gareth talk business,” Billy said, as he leaned on one of the heavy wrought-iron tables.

  Rick was very interested in Gareth’s business, but he could see what was going down, and he’d find out all about it soon enough. His thoughts still swirled around the bombing and it was difficult to keep his mind on the here and now, to keep his emotions under control. He wanted to confront Hairy Carey, but knew that Gracie’s advice was good. Though it chafed him, Rick knew he had to wait.

  “That dork Fine thinks you’re having it off with Gareth too,” Billy baited Rick.

  “So what?” Rick said.

  “It doesn’t bother you that that junior-league Al Capone thinks you’re a sperm bank?”

  “Why should it? He doesn’t know me and it’s not true.” Billy looked at Rick over the top of his sunglasses. “You’re very centered,” he said sarcastically. “Will you be my guru?”

  “I’m still wondering,” Rick changed the subject. “Why do you do this?” “Gareth can give me what I need,” Billy said.

  “And what’s that? Money? Drugs? Humiliation?”

  “You think I’m ashamed of my role?”

  “You’re the one that mentioned sperm banks, so how could you not be? Take this little scenario for instance: Did Gareth ask you to be at the meeting, or did he bring these guys to the pool because you were here already?”

  “What?” “Don’t pretend you don’t know how you’re being used. You’re keeping those little maniacs distracted while Gareth does business with them.”

  “You’re assuming they’re gay.” “They’re predators,” Rick said flatly. “Any one of them would jump you in a second if they thought you were vulnerable. And Gareth’s giving them that impression in living color. The one with the rabid puppy-dog eyes was fantasizing about you out loud a few minutes ago.”

  “Then I guess I’m doing my job well,” Billy said coolly. Rick’s gaze narrowed as he looked away from the young man. “You know, you walk and talk just like a hard-shelled whore, but every now and then, I see flashes of something else. Not right now, of course, but every now and then. So why doesn’t it bother you to give yourself to someone like Carey?”

  “I’d like to say it’s because you don’t know me and it’s not true,” Billy answered. “But I can’t. I’m afraid I’m one of those people that make their bed but won’t lie in it. I want to try to make a better bed. It really seems to upset the people around me.”

  “That makes two of us,” Rick said unexpectedly. “I guess it would be hypocritical of me to look down on you.”

  “I wouldn’t mind you looking down on me in the right circumstances,” Billy said, tilting his face to a provocative angle. “You can’t help it, can you?” Rick finally smiled. “You have to seduce everyone.” “Look, stud,” Billy said, straightening up as if for inspection. “This is what I’ve got to work with, okay? I wouldn’t want my equipment to get rusty from lack of use.”

  “Ah, now I get it. Gareth is just practice for the big leagues.” Billy hid his smile by looking away from Rick and his glance fell by chance on Novacelli. Their eyes brushed for an immeasurably small fraction of time before Billy’s gaze was veiled by his lashes, but Novacelli stood stunned by Billy’s smile, imagining that it was directed at him.

  “Being with Gareth allows me to do what I want to do,” Billy said.

  “And what’s that? Shopping? Hanging out with dangerous men? Getting smacked around?” Billy’s head came up sharply. Rick couldn’t see the young man’s eyes behind the dark sunglasses, but Billy’s mouth was a grim line. Neither noticed Gareth arrive.

  “Shite, Rick!” Gareth said. “What did you say to Billy? That’s the look that says ‘you aren’t getting any tonight, Sunshine.’ Sorry I missed it.”

  Rick glanced over at the group around the bar and changed the subject. “What the hell kind of name is Kookie Kutter Krew?” Billy gave a short laugh. “Cookie is slang for a couple of things. I think it came from Pac-Man, but I don’t really know. A cookie is a reward. It could be your paycheck, a bonus, sex, anything desirable, I guess.”

  Rick shook his head. “Do they realize that spelling it with a K makes it slang for crazy?”

  Billy looked over at the Krew. “I have a feeling they do,” he said. “Have you ever seen a bigger load of dags?” “Be nice, Billy,” Gareth said. “Daddy’s doing business with these wannabes. In fact, it would be very nice of you to come and have a drink to celebrate our new partnership.”

  Billy pushed his sunglasses up on his head. “Partnership?” Gareth shrugged. “You know how it is when you’re wheeling and dealing, tiger kitten. Words get tossed around. Partnership can mean a lot of different things to different people. The point is, and you will appreciate this, the Krew are so enchanted with the idea of rubbing shoulders with real criminals that they’ve offered to sweeten the deal.”

  “You’re kidding,” Rick blurted out. “It was their idea,” Gareth said, barely suppressing his grin until he turned his back on the Krew. “I’m so lucky I ran into these…what did you call them, Billy?”

  “Posers.”

  “Yes, that’s it. I’m lucky I
ran into these posers before someone else did.”

  “Yeah, just imagine how High-Tone would have handled this,” Rick said.

  Gareth’s smile stayed on his lips, but his eyes lost their warmth. “What does that mean?”

  “Gareth,” Billy said. “I don’t think Rick meant to criticize how you run things.”

  “Really? Because that’s what it sounded like,” Gareth said. “Why are you bringing up our former business partner, Rick?” “Just making conversation,” Rick said. “Didn’t know the subject was off-limits.”

  “What were you going to say?” Gareth asked.

  “High-Tone would never have met with these guys. He would have sent soldiers to kill them and take the drugs.” “I thought of that,” Gareth said. “But I think they have more than they’re telling us. Speaking of which…. Billy? Are you going to join us? And be friendly?”

  Billy lifted his glass to his lips and drained the contents in several long swallows. Rattling the ice in the empty glass, he smiled at Gareth. “I seem to need a drink,” Billy said. “You’re coming too, Rick. You need a drink more than I do. Look at you. You look like you lost your best friend.”

  Rick glanced at the kid, but Billy had already put on his party face. The sparkling eyes and broad white smile would no doubt fool the Krew, but Rick saw how worn the mask was. Just under the layer of captivating glamour was weary resignation as deep as the Marianas Trench. Rick had seen it before. If Billy didn’t leave this lifestyle soon, he’d end up at the bottom of the pool, or worse.

  As Gareth and Billy charmed the Kutters, Rick found himself standing behind the bar next to Paul Macross. Levere, playing waiter, came over with a drink order. After listening to Levere’s terse, unflattering assessment of their gangbanger wannabe guests, Rick asked where Geordie was.

  “He’s visiting some contacts in the city,” Levere said. “Wonder how long Gareth expects us to act chummy with these arseholes?” Paul handed Levere a serving tray laden with bottles and ice-filled glasses. “Fuck!” Levere exclaimed as the tray started to tilt. Rick put out a hand and balanced it until Levere got hold of it again. “Thanks, mate,” Levere said. “I’m not a bloody waiter.”