Drive Me Crazy (40 page)

The music had covered most of his wails.

I was sweating strong, breathing hard. My arms ached, hadn’t pumped any real iron in too long, skin burned, felt scratched up from where he had dug his claws into my skin.

I got a grip on his burner, threw the snub nose up high and hard. It landed on the roof.

He told me, “You. A. Dead. Man.”

He was bloodied, beaten, and still threatening my life.

“Play That Funky Music, White Boy” came on again, his cellular blinking in neon colors. He’d dropped the phone. It had landed close to him. Bullyboy was calling. Jackal scampered toward that song. I stomped down on his knee, heel first. Gave him something to sing about.

He howled out his own chorus, a low out-of-breath howl that went into the pavement.

I leaned against the wall, tried to catch my breath.

He grabbed his leg and gurgled, his mouth filled with saliva. The way we were situated, nobody could see us in the shadows. I turned and walked away, chest heaving, only made it a few steps, stopped to rest, catch my breath, my bad knee still giving me grief, but not as much.

“Dead.” He moaned, and sent me an evil smile. “You. Dead. Motherfucker.”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Nigga.”

“Be a shame if your brother had an accident tonight. Be a shame if they found him in that house all burned up because he was caught on fire.”

My rage took over, put fire behind my eyes. I balanced myself on the brick wall, raised my foot, tried to bring my knee up to my chest, then brought my foot down on the side of his head. Went Klingon on his ass until he shut up and went into his private siesta. Rage wouldn’t let me ease up. Kept trying to stomp him into the concrete until I thought I heard his neck snap.

I staggered away, my shirt torn to shreds, halfway on, halfway off my body. I yanked that rag off me. Stood with my top bare. Exhausted, eyes wide, sweat raining from my head.

He’d issued one threat too many. He didn’t know me. I didn’t own a mansion. Or a Cessna. Didn’t have the keys to a Lamborghini. Wasn’t a soft-ass limo driver.

I was Reverend Daddy’s oldest son. I was East Side. Had done time like a man, and beat down many men since I was born. I was my brother’s keeper.

Nobody threatened my family. Nobody threatened my brother. Nobody.

That music bumped loud in the background, loud enough to drown out the last two minutes of fights and moans on this side of the street. The world went loud, but the space between me and my enemy was as quiet as Inglewood Cemetery at sunrise.

I couldn’t tell if he was breathing, saw no rise and fall in his chest.

If death came tonight, I wasn’t going to ride through those burning gates alone.

“Play That Funky Music, White Boy” played again. I stomped the phone to pieces.

A red dot moved across my chest, my eyes settled on its rise and fall. The beam moved up across my nose, did that to make sure it had my full attention, then went back to my heart.

Lisa had come up on me, moved through the shadows, the night breeze kicking up like she had demanded the commotion, like she was Storm, winds whipping her white linen dress left and right. Angelic head to toe. She had an Egyptian shawl wrapped around her head, looking all dolled-up like she did the night I’d seen her at Back Biters. Her stone face made her look evil enough for me to have doubts about trying to bum-rush her. Couldn’t run now if I tried.

I caught my breath the best I could, my eyes on the source of the red dot.

I asked, “I see. You got. Your Glock.”

She said, “Not the Glock. It’s a new toy I picked up at a trade show.”

“Heard. About. That. Toy.”

“Got it at the Taser International Booth.”

“Right.” I opened and closed my aching hands. “Las. Vegas. With. Wolf.”

She pulled her scarf away from her head and neck, winced, made a sound like that simple move hurt her down to the bone. She wanted me to see the red and purple bruises, all the marks and fingerprints I had left behind. My fury had marked up her skin, left her hurting pretty bad.

She asked, “Ever been blasted with fifty thousand volts?”

“Not. Lately.”

“Like being hit by a hundred lightning bolts. I volunteered at the show. Got zapped.”

“Don’t. Do. This. Lisa.”

“Pretty cool. Compressed nitrogen gas shoots electrode-tipped wires out at a hundred miles an hour. The prongs harpoon in your skin. You couldn’t shake it loose if you tried.”

“Lisa.”

“I can zap you two hundred times. No gunshot. No echo.”

“Don’t. Lisa.”

“With that loud music across the street, hell, I can watch you dance all night.”

She lowered her stun gun, moved it down, pointed it at the ground. Old emotions had taken root. She didn’t have the Glock at her side. She didn’t want me dead, not here, not now.

People talked when they didn’t want to kill. People joked when they didn’t want to die.

I told her, “You had set me. Up.”

Her shoulders softened, the flame in her eyes lowered. “Are you okay?”

“From the get go. Your boys. Would’ve killed me before. The next sunrise.”

She knew what I was talking about. The camera in Wolf’s office told me the truth about her intentions. She knew about it. Anything I had done would’ve been caught on tape.

She stayed ten, maybe fifteen feet away from me, no doubt the length of the copper wires in that gun. If she backed up, the barbed prongs wouldn’t reach me.

I moved a foot away. She followed.

I moved toward her. She backed up.

“What did you want, Lisa?”

“To be loved by someone. I loved you, Driver. I really did.”

I coughed, got my wind. “We had no connection. Police would’ve found the tape. Out-of-work felon down on his luck. Or out-of-work black man robs rich white man on Christmas Eve. Take your pick. End of story. End of my story. Would’ve ... would’ve closed the loop.”

She sounded so tender. “You think I would do the things I did for you if I didn’t love you? That tape would’ve been for my own protection, not for the police. My insurance.”

I straightened up the best I could, looked down at the battered and twisted jackal.

It bothered me. What I had done bothered me.

The bloodied body of the jackal didn’t faze Lisa, didn’t disturb her at all.

She said, “Ask yourself why you’re not already dead. I could’ve had this done the day after you reneged on our agreement, could’ve made a phone call the moment I walked in and saw you working at my business. Didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Part of me wanted you there. A big part of me hoped ... I had hopes, Driver. What I feel for you is deeper than you’ll know. I never lied to you. I love you and I hate you for using me like that. The way you just ignored me. Why did you pick that stripper over me?”

I didn’t answer. She had her own version of what was going on.

“I told you I wanted you to give me babies. You said you loved me.”

The music kicked up across the street. Headlights hit us. Her bullyboy came out a couple of blocks down, was coming this way, creeping down the block, looking for us.

“I pull up in the parking lot at Back Biters and I find you all over some young ass, tight-eyed half-breed. You were standing in the middle of the lot kissing her.” Lisa paused, cringed like she was trying to focus. Looked like too many conversations were going on inside her head. Her voice splintered. “Why did you push me, reject me, and go see that stripper whore?”

Still no answer. I wanted to ask her if this three-day shit was because of Arizona, or Panther, but I think it was all of the above. The green-eyed chickens had come home to roost.

“Playa, Playa, Playa.”

“Stop. Calling me. That.”

“Playa. Playa.”

The Deuce passed by, still on the other side of the block.

“I threatened to tell Wolf. You came to work. I pulled a gun on you. You came to work. I destroyed everything you owned. You came to work. I did the same with your whore. You. Came. To. Work. Why didn’t you leave? You had nothing to pack. Why didn’t you just leave?”

I could’ve told her that Reverend Daddy never taught us how to run, taught us to hold our ground and fight. But I didn’t have the breath to waste on words that would make no difference.

Lisa’s eyes went to her bullyboy, the one I’d left sleeping on the ground.

He wasn’t moving. Might as well put two pennies over his eyes.

I said, “End it here. Walk. Away.”

“I think about you all the time, Driver. Thoughts of us and what was, what wasn’t. I knew what I wanted. Now I need to figure out who I am without you next to me. It’s hard. Never done anything this hard in my life. I guess we had the right love at the wrong time. Maybe me loving you was too much for you. And you not loving me wasn’t enough for me.”

“Lisa. Just. Walk away.”

“Can‘t, Boo. We’ve gone too far to back it up now.”

Her cellular was in her other hand. She lowered the stun gun long enough to hit her speed dial. She raised the phone to her face. Hesitated, stared in my eyes before she said, “Found him. Across the street from the club. Just make a U-turn.”

She hung up. Lowered her cellular. Her tongue moved over her lips in a tense motion.

Headlights came right up on us, then turned off, sent us back to darkness.

Lisa took a step toward me. “I’m going to ... I’m going to miss you, Driver.”

She raised the stunner, put that red dot on my body. Every part of me ached, but my adrenaline was pumping. Had to get at her. Tried. But she pulled the trigger. Before I could bob or dodge to my left, the barbed prongs had harpooned my skin. Felt like a high-voltage power line had been routed through my body. Fifty thousand volts. I growled, refused to fall.

It hurt too much to scream.

She pulled the trigger again, sent electricity in bursts, searing pain that made my muscles contract uncontrollably. Disrupted the messages to my brain and took me to my knees. Muscle control was gone, body went hysterical. Confusion and disorientation crawled all over me.

Darkness tried to swallow me up. Every sound was a hundred miles away.

Voluntary muscles wouldn’t cooperate, but still I fought to get up off my knees. In my mind I was getting up. I was swinging. In reality, I hadn’t moved an inch. They stood over me and I couldn’t do a damn thing. Lisa pressed that trigger again, opened up my nerves, took me flat to the ground. I crashed hard. I struggled in my mind, but my body wasn’t fighting.

I fell into a warm pool of darkness.

 

 

I changed everything. The last time Lisa was at my apartment, I made it go in a different way. I saw her come in the room again. This time I kissed her. She took her blouse off. Unsnapped her bra. Her nipples were strong, dark as midnight. Her hands went down to her waist. Unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt. It whispered its way down her legs, hit the carpet without a sound. She stepped away from her pool of clothing. Just like Arizona had done.

My chest rose and fell. I stared at Lisa, at her softness. Licked my lips.

If I did this, all would be well. No damage to Panther’s life. Rufus would be safe.

She turned around and walked toward my bedroom, one hand over her head, the other on her waist, her pear-shaped frame moving with slow and easy sway, with feminine pride.

Music came on. Lights went off.

Her silhouette moved across the room, got on top of my bed.

I took my glasses off, took off my tie, eased toward the bedroom, taking my time.

“Get naked, Driver. Hurry.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Wolf will be looking for me.”

I took off my suit, all my clothes, dropped them where I was.

“Be honest, Driver. You want me in your bed every night.”

I nodded, gave in and admitted my strong desire for her. Her lips were full and wet.

“Come here. I want to take you in my mouth.”

I let her feed. Then I got in the bed with her, touched her between her thighs; her sex was like Seattle in April. Ran my fingers over her backside and the curve in her hips, her small waist.

Her body was Panther’s body.

Lisa said, “Do me every way you can imagine.”

“Beat your chest, sex me the way I deserve to be sexed, do it nonstop.”

“Get your manumit. Come get your manumit.”

Then she laughed. Her voice turned British and African, like Folasade.

Her knees moved away from each other, showed me her gloom.

She said, “One moment I want to kill you, then ... then ... I want to feel you inside me.”

I gave her everything she wanted.

She groaned. “This. Was. All. You. Had. To. Do.”

Over and over I entered my friend’s wife like this pussy was mine for the taking.

My friend. No. My former friend.

Lisa owned a barbaric expression, that desperate look that came when the orgasm felt so good. She tumbled into that ecstasy, held the sheets like she was trying to break her fall. She trembled, her back arched. I fucked her hard, showed no mercy, yanked her back into me over and over. A thousand waves passed through her. She kept jerking. Like I was stunning her.