by Richie Drenz
“LEE. You listening to mi?”
“Yeah man, I’m listening. What you say again?”
"Mi say, it look like a big hood man your thing at, Vybz things suppose to long like a church tie when it pull out. Don't?”
Pinky paused for me to answer. What she took me for? I didn’t answer. She didn’t stop,
“It bigger than Nathan own?”
"How mi must know that?”
“Talk nuh man, whose cocky longer, for Nathan or Vybz. Vybz own. Don’t?”
“Stop call him Vybz nuh Pinky, his name is Ajrien. Anytime you call him Vybz I think of bleach-out, good-for-nothing Vybz Kartel, and Ajrien don’t look anything like him, they just tall alike.”
"Don't diss the Gaza Don. World! ... Boss! Is mi artist and mi don't care ’bout what anybody want to say. Mi artist don’t bleach out, him just tone. And it fit him too.”
"Stop it. You don’t see that Vybz Kartel turn white, till people start mistake him for Justin Bieber?”
Pinky exploded into laughter. She tried to stop laughing but couldn’t. I didn’t know it was so funny, especially that Kartel is her artist, but she was laughing away and gasping. She repeated
“Justin Bieber ... hahaha ... Raaaements! .... Justin Bieberrr! ... No sir. Big man thing, Kartel don't cute so... Wwooiiee, mi can’t stop laugh to rass! ... Tun upp! Mi tight hole a squeeze mi to rawtid clawt!”
Pinky’s laughing was contagious, I had a mighty big smile on my face. I rested my hand with the brush on the dresser before me. Ran my other hand over my now neat and relaxed hair, looking in the mirror to see if it was looking all good and neatly in place.
I chuckled harder at the joke. At the same time it crossed my mind if Kartel will get charged. Pinky continued to talk, asking,
“So whose cocky bigger?”
"How would I know Pinky? I was thirteen, I never had sex with Ajrien.”
Though I think about it everyday of my life since Mommy sent me away to Stony Hill.
I wondered if I should open up to Ajrien. Wondered if Pinky took what I said serious. Wondered if I should make a move before she tried to make a move. Wondered if Vybz ever advanced at Pinky before.
“Pinky?”
“Yow.”
“If Ajrien tried kissing you would you kiss him back?”
"How you say you don’t like him?”
“Just answer nuh, or him try make a move at you already?”
Pinky lips were quieted. I knew what that silence meant, I asked her,
“So what you did? You kissed him back?”
"Mi say, how you say you don’t like him again?”
“Hear what, forget it, just forget it. Bye!”
I hung up. Threw my phone on the dresser. I felt uneasy inside my heart. Damn, it hit me. I know what to do now.
Mr. Douglas can’t escape.
CHAPTER 34
This is the Plan B
by: Leelia Lexings
I knew Mr. Douglas managed all of his businesses from his office at Douglas Arms’ Security. So, I chartered a taxi there in the evening, at about five thirty. That’s the time I knew he usually leaves the office. Let’s see what he would say to me now, in person. That prick!
At his office, the receptionist was standing and searching through the slots of a crammed accordion folder. She greeted me with a courteous and over-processed smile, her mouth speaking through the headpiece that she wore, it reminded me of the attendants at the KFC drive-through.
“Hi welcome to Douglas Arms Security,” There are sometimes in life when you just see someone and your spirit doesn’t take on to them, you just don’t like them especially if you’re upset, and this was one of the moment. The receptionist teeth was a bright beautiful yellow, like that of a sunflower. The red lipstick was applied unevenly to her thin lips. She strained another stiff smile, just as she was trained to greet. I didn’t smile back. I nodded. The air conditioner was blowing cool air on me but I was still hot and tempered.
“How may I help you?”
“Here to see Mr. Douglas.” I was looking beyond the receptionist desk and down the cream corridor. I could barely see through the lightly tinted glass door, but I saw that there were persons moving about in the office, walking, maybe getting ready to leave, it was about that time anyway. Two females came out wearing identical navy blue blazer and skirt. And a guy in a Dockers khaki pants trailing behind them wore thick lenses and struggled with both of the ladies handbag as well as his laptop bag. The ladies held their head straight, conversing with each other as they passed by me, the nerd nodded at me and politely greeted ‘evening’. I didn’t reply not even nod. I was angry with everyone in the building.
I strained my eye in concentration trying to see through the door that they just came through to see if I could spot the son of a swine. The receptionist toyed on the collar of her navy blue jacket, close to where the Douglas Arms Security round white logo with D.A.S. in the center was embroidered. She took up a long black hardcover book, the spine skirted with a thin strip of red. She leafed through the old written pages to the fresher pages until she reached a page with only half of it written up. Her index finger slid down the page as she read. Not finding what she sought, she clammed it close. Almost pleased and definitely feisty, said
“Sorry, you have to have an appointment.” As she talked, she rocked pressed her lips together, opened her eyes full and then asked, “You want to make one, lady?”
“Listen. Ms. Spotty-Spotty-Pudding-Face, this important.” Her fake smile evaporated, her face became blank, measuring me up with shaky eyes.
“Well, we close off dealing with cheques from four thirty. So you would’ve to come back in the morning anyway.”
“Mi don’t come here ’bout any frigging cheque. Tell him Leelia is out here. Do that NOW!”
The receptionist went down slow in her black chair, her eyes never leaving mine. I could see the black hair glue in her weave and the black chord used to sew down the weave at the edges of the part in the center-front. It looked awful. The part in her hair was too wide, and looked like when Moses parted the Red Sea, in the Jesus movie. She dialled an extension, then stand up straight from out her chair, one hand with a black Papermate pen just doodling on the desk like she was writing something but not actually writing because the pen still had on the cover. Her other hand held the office telephone at her ear. Three seconds later, she stopped swirling the pen around and spoke through the phone,
“There’s a Leelia ..” She stopped and cupped her hand over the phone’s receiver, turned her head to me and asked quietly,
“What’s your surname Ma’am?” Her tone was more impolite than helpful, before I answered her she added “Give me you full name, just in case ...” I swear to God this bitch testing my faith,
“Lexings. Leelia Lexings.”
“I’m sorry pretty Miss, is that Sexings?” I knew she heard me the first time and was just being disrespectful. I gritted my teeth,
“No, academically unattained dunce-bat! Lexings. ‘L’. Lexings. Can you frigging hear me now?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, I return the narrowed eyes, she cut her eyes, I remained narrowed and staring. She removed her hand off the receiver and continued to speak.
“Yes there’s a Leelia LEX—ings here to see Mr. Douglas.” She glanced up at me as if she could feel my stare was burning into her, then added, “She said it’s very important.”
She waited some more time. Tapping the desk counter with her black pen. Waited longer. Patted the side of her weave with her flat open palm. Her head was more than itching her from how powerfully she was beating her own head. Her un-cared weave was digging her. Or maybe it had a bad case of lice. She slipped the head of her pen through her weave and scratched her head, shaking the pen rigorously. Furiously. Viciously. The entire weave on her head shook as she bored through the weave scratching. It must be scratching her worse than leprosy. The pen wasn’t enough. She began pulverizing the side of her head with her hand ag
ain, battering, winking only one eye shut with every clap that her strong man-ish hand clobbered upside her dry head. Gosh, her head must smelt funky. She needs to wash her hair with some strong shampoo and disinfectant.
Finally, she realised where she was, or that she had a client infront of her, processed a stiff smile again, held up her index finger to me, as her lips mimed ‘One minute’. She switched over her weight from one leg to the other, switched over again, glanced up at me,
“Coming, ok ... Just one minute.” I was impatient and wanted to grab the phone from her and scream at Mr. Douglas to get the fuck out here now. She listened in and stopped chewing her gum as the information from the other end of the phone arrived at her ears. She nodded her head, nodded again, then replied,
“Ok.” She hung up and her hand still held on to the phone on the desk. “I’m sorry Ms. Lexi, Lexings right?” I didn't answer her bullshit question. She continued, “Mr. Douglas is not here.”
She swept her hand behind her skirt as she lowered herself to her chair. Took up her stuffed accordion folder and rested it into her lap. Began treading two fingers across the slots of the folder in concentration. Finished with me. Stopped midway the folder, dragged the slot open wider and her busy fingers began skipping through the invoices between the slot.
“Not here? NOT HERE? Don’t let mi get dark in here. Think mi stupid or something?” Her face went slack and mouth O. “Isn’t that his van in the parking lot? Tell him I’m here or else it won’t be pretty in here today. Get that?”
Her fingers stopped moving. Her voice was slim,
“Yes ... But he drove is other vehicle home.”
“Right! Alright then.” I didn’t waste any more time with the nincompoop. I charged off from infront her desk and stormed down the cream corridor. The receptionist sprang out her chair, the accordion fell. Landed on the switchboard. Papers, invoices and cheques spilled all over the switchboard. Slid to the floor, scattering. The receptionist yelled,
“No. Ms. Lexings. You can’t go in!” I sped up down the corridor to the door. “Miss! MISS! MISS!” I didn’t look around, I knew the jerk was in there. That cunt! “You CAN’T.” That damn conscienceless cunt! “SECURITY! SECURITY!”
Reached the glass door. Pushed the steel bar to enter. Door wouldn’t open. Pushed harder. It rattled. Pushed. Rattled with resistance. Locked. I wanted to rip off the blasted door to get inside there. I rocked it harder. Longer. Shaking it. Locked.
I saw a security key pad to the side of the door. I’m familiar with this pad, used it before. It’s the same pad by Mr. Douglas’s house. I knew the code. I punched in the security pin 4927#. Pushed the door. Still locked. I entered something wrong in the code. Entered it too fast. Slower now. 4. 9. 2. 7. #. Wait for the green light to blink at the top of the keypad. The light blinked. Red. Wrong code. I entered it again. Faster. Wrong code. Banged the door with my fist. Bang! Bang! BANG! Beat it down.
Someone came. It was an overgrown man, decked out in a full navy blue security uniform, with a white name badge, pinned to his left chest that read ‘Tobias’. The name sounded old and country. He had a gun at his side. I quieted down.
“Ma’am you can’t enter,” He was definitely country, and his accent sounded as if he originated from the farthest region of the country. Far, far. “Move from the doorway Ma’am.” This is really how Mr. Douglas gonna deal with me? Really? He’s making a sad mistake because it won’t go down like this.
“I know the little .... I know Mr. Douglas inside there. Sitting around a big desk watching me on a little TV. Tell him to get outside this very minute.” I wanted to say, tell him to get outside now, let mi rip him up. But I couldn’t let them know the plan, or else I wouldn’t get my chance. “Tell him Right now, right- right now.” I pointed to the security chest. “You do that.” The security deep country accent sounded out of place in the office when he replied
“Ma’am you have to leave, or else you forcing mi to fist you under your belly.”
Another security came. He was shorter and had more belly than muscles.
“I’m not leaving this building till your boss come and speak with me. Tell him that a mad woman out here to him.” The shorter security informed me that,
“Ma’am Tobias is right. If you don’t leave, one of us will have to punch you under your belly and haul you outside.”
“Dream on, I dare one of you to thump me today. You wouldn’t see the end of! Just touch mi.” I begged them to. The security eyed each other and walked over to me. “Don’t you dare touch mi enuh!” The receptionist smiled.
The stout security grabbed one of my arm and the overgrown Tobias grabbed my other arm and swung his big fist in the air to thump me. The shorter security grabbed his fist and said,
“No Tobias. You too wicked. Look how she mawga she can manage that ...,” Swinging his chin up in the air pointing at Tobias fist in mid air. “that big fist, she can’t manage nothing big.” Tobias really wanted to fist me. He pressed on to argue,
“But Sup .... mi have to do it. It’s procedure ... It’s in the manual.”
And before the shorter security could reply, ‘PLOW!’ right under mi belly for true. I saw the moon and the stars, all blinking. They escorted me off the property. Where’s Pinky when you need her?
By seven thirty in the night, the light of the day was fading to the dark of the night. I was still by the gate, waiting. I watched all the vehicles drove from the property and at 9 p.m. I was still waiting. Everyone was gone. Only Mr. Douglas’ Range Rover remained in the parking lot. The receptionist spoke the truth. He really had driven his other vehicle home.
I privated my number, dialled Mr. Douglas. Changed my mind, cancelled the call. It was useless anyway. I made a big sad sigh. With my head down I prodded off slowly from the gate. I live more than four miles away from here, but I felt like walking home. No taxi. No passenger. No talking. Just a quiet lonely walk home. I prodded.
My phone rang. Gloe. I didn’t answer. I thought long and hard and short and wide; how else could I get that kind of money before Thursday. There’s no other way I could think of. Not giving up, I said to my heart, but it sounded much weaker than when I said it this evening. All hope is slender. I will return to Mr. Douglas’s office everyday until he pays me some attention. But Tobias. I doubt he will let me step foot back on the property. My hand went to holding the remains of the cramp under my belly.
Then came a mechanical sound behind me, a continuous tone, sounds electronic. The automatic gate was opening and the army green Range Rover was driving through. I squinted my eyes to see if it was really Mr. Douglas driving. I couldn’t really make out who the driver was. But who would be driving his vehicle? The dry hair secretary? Or?
I kept my eyes focused at the windscreen through the night’s smoke of darkness. The windscreen was tinted and that didn’t help in me trying to make out the driver. The van came closer, and as whoever was driving saw me, they stepped on the gas. It must be that bitch of a secretary. He must be sleeping with her for her to be driving his vehicle. That’s the reason she has so much attitude. Why didn’t I pick it up from the way she spoke about the vehicle? The vehicle sped closer. I could see the silhouette of the driver more clearly now, it was like a 3-D shadow image behind the steering wheel. Mr. Douglas bald head, but couldn’t quite make out the features of his face. How can I get him to stop? I don't know. Think. I do what I had to do. Sprang right infront the speeding vehicle.
I heard the engine revved louder and the van picked up more speed, a trail of furry dust behind its wheel. I’m not moving. I wasn’t moving. He’d have to stop or run me over, but I’m not the one moving. I closed my eyes. One second, two, three. His engine roared louder. He was not slowing down, he was gassing it. I popped my eyes wide open like big round bug-eyes. He wasn’t easing down. The van raced closer and closer. Closer. Bulleting full-speed with no intention whatsoever to touch his brakes. Oh shit!
Ran. Jumped. Got out the way, running out of my shoe,
chucked into the bushes at the side of the road, landed on my side. My hip hurt. One of my shoe left in the middle of the road. The van tore over my shoe, swerved to the side I chucked. So close to me that the breeze from the van blew my well combed hair to a mess. Dust covered my face. My shoes laid dead in the road. Dead. That could have been me. I pranced up to my feet, took off my other shoe and threw it through the plague of dust at the long gone green van. I screamed, rather yelled out
“Battyman Mr. Douglas!” the van shrunk smaller and smaller down the road as he sped on and zoomed around the blind corner, vanishing.
I heard the frightening screeches of brakes. Then a loud mighty clap of metals, a deafening collision. Someone’s definitely dead. The first thing that came to my mind was, great, I hoped he’s dead. Dead good. He just swerved at me. He killed my shoe. The jerk wanted to run me over. But when I thought about the money for Vance, I prayed to God he saved the bastard. My only chance. Did he survive the crash? I kicked off my other shoe, raced barefooted down the road and around the bend to find out. There was blood all over, and a dead body.
CHAPTER 35
Got To Go
by: Vybz
Murdered. Couldn’t Sleep lastnight. Too much to sleep with, just too much. Killed. I didn’t know how long before I even returned to Jamaica when I leave. I put my journal in my red suitcase on the bed. Got to let at least two years blow off before I set back foot in Jamaica. That’s if Portia pull off the other half of the link that she should. She gave me a link to a bandoloo-ist girl name Danni to buy a fake U.S. Visa. If I get to California on this Visa I’m hoping the other link Portia said she lined up for me over Cali come through, then I could settle down in Cali, sort out my papers and join the California Police Dept. Use that clean money to start a brand new crime-free life. I put the key to my journal in my wallet, back-pocketed my wallet. I reached to close the suitcase but picked up my black journal from among the few clothes I packed, held it in my hand, stared at it.
