The Heart of Revenge

by Richie Drenz

  “The driver’s dead Mr. Douglas, his head was split wide open.”

  The door busted open immediately. The room was a clutter, three huge suitcase were wide open like square clam shells on the bed, drawers opened and clothes haphazardly slap-dashed all over the room.

  I spoke low with a calm levelled head.

  “Don’t be stupid.” He turned looking at me, “Running away won’t help. They have your licence plate. A big shot like you they are gonna come at you hard, track your flight, your credit card, seize your assets, accounts .. . everything.” His baldhead flustering, dripping sweat right around his face, “Let me help you.”

  Mr. Douglas placed his laptop slowly in the red suitcase and pulled out a shiny chrome gun. Aimed it at my head.

  A text came in from Pinky. ‘Beep ... Beep.’ Frightened, my body jumped, finger pressed on my phone, opening the text, it read

  ‘Tanx 4 always helpin out sis!!! :) :) :).’

  I looked back up into the gun. I felt my flesh falling off my bones.

  CHAPTER 41

  Black Heart

  by: Leelia Lexings

  “What you want huh?” What is it!”

  Both my hands reached out towards his chest, my ten fingers pointed up to the high ceiling, my hand trembling out of control. I felt my heart sticking, just sticking me, sticking me, pins and needles, like I too had Vance’s heart problem. Uh, damn it pained. I kept my mouth shut, muffled my heavy wheezing that came on, grabbed on my left breast, clenched, squeezed. Mr. Douglas eyes zoomed in at my breasts that I squeezed. Almost as if he enjoyed seeing me squeezing on my tits. Would he really shoot me? I lunged for air. Would he kill me? My heart felt so much pain, as if someone was opening my heart with a chain-saw. Mr. Douglas? I caught my breath, heaved, exhaled, breathe, breathe but my head delirious, spinning, tightened, thinking, wondered, would he? He asked me,

  “Huh, What you want?” Mr. Douglas lips drew back in a angry snarl, shook his gun impatiently at me. I raised my hand from my heart and begged. My heart tempo resuming to normal.

  “Calm down Mr. Douglas, I’m here to help you. Your brains watery upstairs or something?”

  “How? Huh?”

  “Just put down the gun so we can talk.”

  “Chat now nuh gal!” He didn’t put his gun down. I stuttered.

  “I ... I ... I can help ... I can help you to disappear. Without a trace. Before tomorrow afternoon.” He got even angrier, his hand shook visibly in a no non-sense manner, twitching to pull the trigger. The aim of the gun waved all over my face, I squinted as it pointed to my eye. His whole body jerked in a tantrum as he exploded,

  “Think I’m fucking stupid, huh? HUH?”

  He callously rammed the gun into my face, my cheekbone, the hard metal nozzle slammed against my solid cheekbone, it hurt. He shoved it, it bruised, tore my skin, bled. He kept pressing it cold-heartedly against my cheekbone, kept shoving it, crushed it hard into my cheek, pain, my flesh squashed thin between the nozzle and my cheekbone, pain, my head tilt back. The nozzle slid on my skin, went under my eye. My head rocked backward again, he heartlessly shoved it harder, eager to get rid of me. My heartbeat tripled. All my words were trying to get out in one breath.

  “No, no, no, I swear...” My words were racing out before he squeezed the trigger. “My bestfriend Gloe has a girlfriend who's a bandooloo-ist, I mean she can get you fake everything. Everything. Everything you need to escape. Passport, cards, visa, I.D., anything.” The gun was still in my face, the pressure not hard anymore, I felt it on my skin, but not slammed on my bone.

  “What you want from me?”

  “Look, let’s be civil ... we both need help. You got the cash that can help me out with my brother and I have the connections you need to vanish before they lock you behind bars ... your case is a straight deal ... man-slaughter, fifteen to twenty years. You prepared for that? Let's not lose our heads and be reasonable about this Mr. Douglas.” His eyes twitched as he came out of his own mind of reasoning, he then commanded,

  “State your price. Little Smart-Ass.”

  “Remember that night.” I coolly reminded him before stating the price, trying to win more leverage on a deal, but not to provoke him back to anger. “I’ll let that thing disappear too, I will totally forget it ... Especially for your son’s own future.”

  “What’s your damn price? You conniving, manipulative SLUT!” He balled his fist and clench his teeth saying ‘slut’. That was the first time I was ever looking at the bald-headed Mr. Douglas so closely as to recognise that his teeth were the same color as golden piss.

  “Slut? Who you calling a Slut?”

  “You! You disgusting ghetto whore. You and your mother is always about getting some money. Your mother did it when she was young, I paid her in full, I was to get you when you were seventeen and the bitch touted you to hook up with Qwan, blighting my chances with you after I already gave her my money. You were to be mine not Qwan’s, mine. You two will sell your ribs for money. I know your brother’s heart problem is another big lie that you and your mother using to wring money out of us, out of Qwan. Use you to get money from Qwan and from me ... You low life ghetto scums would do anything for money. Anything! You think you know how big of a slut you mother is? You have no idea. Why you think mi fire her? You are just the same ... like mother, like slut!”

  A turmoil of emotions ran through me in every different color imaginable. My mom was never a slut. Never will be a slut. I’m certainly no slut ...Vance heart problem is real. Isn’t it? My mom would never. Would she? No she wouldn’t. This scandalous bald-head man is trying to play with my psyche, ruin me and Mom. If this were ever true, I would definitely ... no it can’t be true. I see Vance at the hospital, I’ve seen his attacks. Why am I making this corrupted perverted man who can’t be trusted let me have second thoughts about something that’s clearly facts. Let him pay for his words. Let him pay.

  “Sixty thousand U.S.!”

  “You out of your bleeding mind slut? Huh? Huh?”

  I folded my arms and stared at him. I can’t believe someone like him, after what I caught him doing have the nerve to be judging my Mom. I always stood my distance from him, whenever he is at the house, he was just that eerie and creepy and icky that my instinct told me to stay away. Seemed my instinct was right. He was a real low life for calling Mommy that. I bet every other rumour about him is true. So maybe that’s the reason he ran Qwan out his house when I left, he wanted me, he didn’t want Qwan to have me. I can't believe Mr. Douglas. Gosh! He sickens me. That day would never come in a million years. That sick bastard. What if? ... But I was just fourteen. I should expose this son of a bitch for who he really is to every media in Jamaica. Mr. Douglas tightened his jawbone with dreadful anger, chew on his lip,

  “Who you looking on like that huh gal? He raised his gun to the center of my forehead. “Better if mi kill you right now.” I didn’t flinch.

  “Yeah. Go shoot your face! You know you ain't shooting a soul. You wouldn’t be so stupid to shoot your only help right now.” I slapped the gun out my face. “Take this stupid thing out my face before you hurt somebody. Get this through your thick skull. I. AM. YOUR. ONLY. HELP ... This SLUT! Ok?”

  He lowered his gun, his head in a thick smoke of confusion, lost in a florae of thoughts.

  “This is outrageous. Blackmail! Can get all this for thirty-five.”

  “You and this STUPID SLUT both know, by the time you get all the connections to all the persons you need, your name and picture will be on every wall like the great L.A. Lewis ... You should be thanking this ... SLUT.”

  He became sensible, surrendered. Tossed his gun in his suitcase, rubbed his hand behind his neck, then squeezed on his forehead like it was a stress-ball.

  “Get me twenty now and I start the process tonight. Time’s ticking away. The sooner the better.”

  “Ok. K.” He looked both sides of the house, grabbed up a small bunch of keys off the top shelf of his black minimalistic-design
ed entertainment center, glanced at his small black and white surveillance TV above it and muttered,

  “Let's go.”

  We hasted out and into his Mitsubishi Pajero. I hopped into the puffy leather seats and said

  “You know, thinking, then you got to give Mr. Willie his job back.”

  “Why so?”

  “Who else you gonna trust with your property when you disappear? We know Mr. Willie very honest and wont filch a thing.”

  "Mi not hiring back the idiot. Gonna put Tobias from the office here.”

  “The big country one? Him don't have not a sense. He’s the one let mi know you still at the office. Why you think mi didn't leave? Him pinch and tell me, sell you out for fifty dollars.”

  “What? He’s good as fired. Mi firing him country rass as day break tomorrow.” I remembered the fist I got under my belly. Revenge was sweet. I smiled and agreed.

  “Oh yes you should. Fire him yes.”

  “But that don't mean that mi hiring back Mr. Willie enuh. Mi still not hiring him back. Willie too soft.”

  He buckled down his seat belt. I didn’t. I felt horrible for poor Mr. Willie. I didn’t even wanted to look in his eyes as we drove through the gate. At least I did give it a shot to get back his job. Mr. Douglas drove to the gate. It was padlocked . Mr. Willie had a cardboard box packing his personal stuff into. He had a yellow comb with big teeth in his hand. Half of Mr. Willie head was empty and the other half was stubborn, it would not grow to any comb-able height. Either somebody tricked poor Mr. Willie into buying that comb or he obviously was dreaming big about how bouncy his bad-hair would get someday soon. Mr. Douglas stuck his hand out through the driver’s window and shouted in haste,

  “Fly the gate Willie.”

  "Mi don’t work here again enuh sir.”

  “Willie what happen to you? Open the gate.”

  “You want the key for the padlock boss?”

  “Backside man! Willie, fly the frigging gate! Or else —-”

  “Or else what boss? You gonna fire mi again?” Willie picked up something off his table, put his yellow comb in his small carton box, picked up the box and clutched it up under his arm, like a ladies would a purse. He drooped over to the van and handed what he took off the desk to Mr. Douglas. It was his name badge and the key for the big padlock.

  “Here sir. Come out and let out yourself.” His gaze slowly crept over to me on the other side, face sulked, eyes hazy with hurt, lips barely moving, “Ms. Leelia look what you caused on mi.” His eyes saddened. He loosened his clutched arm from around the small pathetic box, carefully fetched something out his box, came up with his yellow comb. “You see this comb ... it’s from mi daughter, Roxie, the small one.” He took a long blink, closing his eyes for a few second as he tried swallowing how deeply hurt he felt, “Roxie did give mi it as a good-luck charm ... say it would make me never lose my job again. Mi did want believe it was really a good luck charm for true. Mi never want let mi kids go through what them go through before. Mi take it with mi every day to work.” He slowly raised the comb to his mouth, kissed it, shed tears. The grown man crying, right there at the van. “Roxie baby, mi get fired, mi coming home early tonight.” He used the comb to mop at his tears. My heart felt his pain, and inside, I cried for his grief. It was so sad to look at Mr. Willie’s face.

  “Mr. Douglas, give him back his job. He’s working with you over three years now.” Mr. Douglas set his eyes upon me. “He’s a goodman and his family depending on his job.”

  I knew Mr. Douglas heart had no conscience. But I still tried to petition to it, tried reaching to his heart. He looked down from his van at Mr. Willie.

  “Willie, Willie, Ooiiie, stop the donkey bawling. You a big man. Go open the gate and go back in the guard booth. And change back in your uniform.” Mr. Willie did his job. He was fired and rehired the same day, same night.

  Throughout the entire ride Mr. Douglas and I didn’t string a single sentence to each other. The ride was silent and mostly awkward. I thought about the number thirteen Pinky said I should buy. Wonder if it could really play tomorrow? A long forty minutes after, we arrived at a ghostly looking quad, in a bushy country-like area that look abandoned. No pavement, dirt tracks, bush height - waist high, creepy noises. ‘Ribbit ... Ribbit’. No light. The place spooked me out. Where is this? Why we alone in the middle of the wilderness?

  “Wait here.” He unbuckled his seatbelt, "Mi soon come back.” Pulled the key out the ignition and jumped down from the van. His boot made a heavy thud sound when it landed into the dirt. All the creepy noise in the background got quiet. The silence was scary, felt like someone’s out there watching, prowling. He glanced both sides suspiciously, looked again with a more precarious inspection, as if anyone would be here, except us. Walked off into the bushy yard heading to the unlighted quad. I was alone in the van.

  I dialled Gloe. There was a feint murmur of mosquitoes and the sharp cry of ‘ribbit’ from night insects every couple of seconds. The ‘ribbits’ sounded like a frog’s croak but with more rattling and higher shrill in its projection, a longer eerie ‘Riiiibbit’. Flying insects, maybe they were fire flies or peenie wallie, blinking lights from their bottoms, all over in the dark, in a scattered Christmas light fashion. I reached over to the driver’s side and wound up the window more. Gloe came on the phone, I jumped at the sound of her voice, sat up straight,

  “You sleeping?” I asked her. ‘Riiibbit!’. The insect that emitted that cry was close, it was loud. But I see none in the van. I hugged myself. Looked around, side glance at the ghostly wilderness outside.

  “Yeah, just dozing off. What's up?”

  “Got a big job for Danni. Ask her to line up everything tonight.” Another loud ‘Ribbit!’ I glanced up through the rear-view, took my eyes off quickly, tried not to look outside. “I’m coming there with the cash in less than an hour.”

  "What's wrong Lee? You sound nervous bad, you need these for yourself?”

  “No man. Not for me. I’m just a bit bombed about where I’m at now. When I reach over I’ll give you all the details, just tell Danni she can start ready things right now.” ‘Ribbit’. “I need everything by mid-day tomorrow.”

  I snoopingly opened the glove compartment, searching inside while Gloe spoke.

  “Goodness Lia you know that’s impossible. It takes at least three days tops, it’s not like Danni working with herself.” I spotted the chrome gun in the glove compartment.

  “G, I’m coming over with twenty grand tonight.”

  “I can’t do it. It’s almost midnight and that can’t even start anything.” ‘Ribbit!’ insects light blinking in the dark. “You know how much people Danni have to pay off?” I swatted my hand that held the phone, I totally missed the mosquito. The darkness around was getting heavier.

  “U.S. money Gloe ...U.S.” The phone went silent. ‘Ribbit!’

  “U.S.?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ok, come quickly then, let we see what we can do. Mi going to wake her up now. Hurry and come.”

  “Gloe stay on the phone with me a little longer till someone comeback nuh, please.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a little scared.”

  “Hsst. Stop being a girl.” Gloe hung up. Should I take this gun? ‘Ribbit’. What the hell is he doing so long in the house? Will he get back in the van already. I hate it out here. I still tried keeping my eyes from looking outside. What If he left me in the van and not coming back? What if he is gone? He had the key. I opened the glove compartment one more time, looked at the gun, reached for it, left it there, close the compartment. Insect lights blinking on and off, on and off in the thick foggy dark. I rubbed one barefoot on top of the other, hugged one arm around my waist, put my thumb in my mouth.

  Unexpected. A rattling. ‘Doop, doop, doop!’ Out of nowhere. Shit. Van door. Shuffling. Moving. I jumped, almost through the roof. Door eased open . I gasped. “Huuh!” thumb falling from my mouth. My heart stung me. An electric
al overcharge. The door pried wide open. It was Mr. Douglas, I tried to hide my spitty thumb. . The door let in a dose of the night’s air, it smelt light and clean, not as hot as inside the van felt. He held the door in one hand and held a black pouch in the other. He threw the pouch in at me, it landed between my legs. Twenty grand large. He leaped into the van. If Vance only knew half the shit I’m going through for him. My foot’s itching. Why he brought the gun though? I tried to scratch, rubbed my foot on the furry mat, the fur was somewhat stiff and brittle under my footbottom, almost ticklish as my foot rub up and down on it. My instinct told me I should have taken that gun.

  “So ... there you are Ms. Lexings. Hope you can do what you say you can. Mid-day tomorrow, huh?”

  “Don’t worry that's not a problem.” ‘Ribbit ... Ribbit!’

  “Ok then. Time to go.” He replied.

  Mr. Douglas, leaned towards the dashboard, one hand on the steering wheel, the other turning the key in the ignition. In one brisk motion he released the steering and fanned at mosquitoes from before his face. Spun the key and the heavy throttle of the engine cut through the broad expanse of silence. The engine quickly quieted down to a murmur that drowned the ongoing buzz of the mosquitoes. Switched on his headlights. The two long white beams of light were the only light in the dark wilderness. He switched the ignition back off. Kept the headlights on. No sound came from the engine, no buzz from mosquitoes in the van, only one sound remained in the night - night insects. ‘Ribbit ... Ribbit’.

  He stared through the windscreen, his face stilled, steady but his brain running, colluding, the unthinkable I thought. I stared over into his sinister eyes, quizzical, my heart stabbing with concern. What is he up to? I asked,

  "What's wrong?”

  Mr. Douglas shifted around facing me, leaned towards me and rested his forearm on the headrest of my seat. I was certain he was up to no good. I am alone in the middle of nowhere. ‘Ribbit...Ribbit.’