Misty (24 page)

B
rick unlocked the double locks on the front door and walked inside his apartment, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. The clatter of metal against granite echoed in the empty apartment. He had mixed feelings about Misty leaving. A part of him was relieved she was gone and the other part wished she was still here, if only so he could keep an eye on her and make sure she was all right.

It had been difficult at first for him to accept that she possessed uncanny abilities, but after she healed herself, he became a believer. Still, he had a nagging feeling that somehow she was going to wind up in a world of trouble. Her abilities were gifts from above, but knowing Misty, she'd find a way to abuse and misuse her God- given powers, and sooner or later, she was going to piss off the wrong person.

Thinking about Thomasina's reaction when he had told her that Misty was able to prophesize, Brick laughed to himself as he walked to the fridge and took out a cold beer.

“I saw that article about her in the paper about her touching folks and seeing their future. That ain't none of the Lord's doing; that's Satan's work,” Thomasina had said, shaking her head. “That daughter of mine has been touched by the devil's wicked hand.”

He had yet to tell her that Misty had also acquired healing powers
and was no longer paralyzed. He didn't want to be responsible for giving Thomasina a heart attack from the shock of discovering that Misty had performed a miracle and had healed her spinal cord injury. He decided that Misty would have to be the one to drop that bomb on her mother if they ever started speaking again. Knowing Misty, she was probably anxious to make up with her mother, if only to show off the new wardrobe she'd bought with the donation money.

He and Thomasina were trying to get along and be cordial for their son's sake, but Thomasina's face hardened with fury whenever he spoke about Misty. In order to have the visitations with his son go as smoothly as possible, Brick decided it would be best if he didn't bring up Misty's name in the future. The mother and daughter's animosity toward each other centered on his relationship with both of them. Misty had been his girl for years, but after she'd cheated on him, he ended up marrying her mother.

Although he'd attempted to patch things up between them, neither mother nor daughter was having it. There was no doubt in Brick's mind that Thomasina loved Misty and vice versa, but he thought it best to butt out and allow them to patch up their relationship in their own good time.

Kicked back on the couch with his feet propped up on an ottoman, Brick drank beer and watched TV and inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Anya. Prolonged thoughts of Anya would either have him in the shower beating his meat or send him to the strip club in search of the dancer named Island Girl, who reminded him of Anya.

The way he yearned for Anya, it was a good thing he didn't go to the strip club with the fellas after work tonight. A mere lap dance from Island Girl would not be enough to satisfy his urges. Not tonight.

It was odd how thoughts of Anya had prevented him from giving himself fully to Misty. His dick wouldn't act right; it didn't want Misty at all, and Misty was furious over that. The way she glared at him after his piss-poor performance in bed made him feel like crap. Brick shook his head, thinking,
Man, if looks could kill, I'd be a dead muthafucka!

“But knowing Misty, she'll get over her anger the minute she finds herself a sucker who's willing to bow down and cater to her desires,” Brick said aloud.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. To his surprise, Misty was calling.

“Speak of the devil,” he said into the phone.

“I hope you weren't talking about me to my mother,” Misty said with an attitude.

“No, I was talking about you to myself,” he said with laughter. “So, what's going on? Are you all right? You need anything?”

“I'm fine. Look, I'm gonna get straight to the point.”

“Go ahead.”

“I'm pissed off at the way you did me the other night, but I'm willing to move on.”

“That's good news. You know you'll always have my heart, but we're not—”

“Yeah, yeah…whatever. I'm not trying to hear that shit. You know me, Brick, and you know I don't appreciate being rejected. But I'm trying to be more mature, so don't be trying my patience by bringing up unpleasant bullshit.”

“All right. So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I called to make you an offer.”

“Aw, man. Here we go, again,” Brick groaned. “What kind of scheme are you tryna involve me in?”

“It's not a scheme. It's business. Big business. Beyond anything we've ever done before. And it's perfectly legal.”

“I'm listening.”

“I know you could use some extra money with your child support payments being high as fuck, so before I call anyone else, I want to offer you an opportunity to make some under-the-table, tax-free moolah. Money in your pocket that my greedy mother can't get to.”

“Doing what?” Brick asked suspiciously.

“Being my bodyguard. I was going to call a personal protection agency, but I don't think there's anyone who will protect me better than you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I'm willing to pay top dollar, and I need you to be strapped, so get yourself a gun so you can start taking lessons at the shooting range.”

“I don't need any lessons; I know how to shoot a gun.”

“I'm not talking about a ghetto shootout with bullets flying everywhere. I need a straight shooter.”

“Why? Has anybody been threatening you?”

“No. But I'm going to be dealing with extremely large sums of money. I'll have more money on me than you'll find inside a Brinks truck.”

“Fuck outta here.”

“If I'm lying, I'm flying,” Misty said, laughing as she recited a line she and Brick used to say when they were kids.

Brick laughed with her. And for the first time in a long while, Misty felt like an old friend, again. Like the girl he used to know back in the day. The delicately pretty, but surprisingly tough, little girl whom he could kick it with as if she were one of the boys.

“You're getting paid a bunch of stacks to tell someone's future?”

“Stacks? You're thinking too small, my dude. I'm getting paid a cool million to heal a rich muthafucka.”

“A million? Did I hear you right?”

“You sure did,” Misty said with a proud grin. “But the next billionaire who wants me to lay my healing hands on him is gonna have to double that price. The miracles I can perform are worth it,” she bragged.

“How'd you hook up with this wealthy dude?”

“Through Gavin; his family has connections, you know. The man's name is Jeffrey Backus. He has several homes, and in two weeks we'll be taking a private jet to his vacation spot in Hawaii.”

“I want to be there for you; you know I always have your back, but I think you should call a legitimate protection agency. Get someone who's trained in that profession because I don't think I'm qualified.”

“I have faith in you; don't downplay your skills, Brick.”

Brick rubbed his head worriedly. “I don't know, Misty. That's some high-level shit you're talking. You need agents with James Bond, high-tech equipment—a whole team with Secret Service qualifications.”

“I don't need all that. You can handle this job. You got inside one of Smash Hitz's houses, took out two of his people, and got away with it. This isn't even a dangerous mission, but I want to be sure I have protection if somebody tries to come between me and my money. By the way, I'll pay you twenty thousand for a job that shouldn't take more than twenty-four hours at the most. It's a long flight—ten hours, so most of our time will be spent in the air. But once we get there, we'll be in and out. It shouldn't take long to collect the money and to heal dude. Tack on another ten hours for the flight back home, and that's it. It's easy money, Brick.”

Astonished over the amount of money Misty was willing to pay him, Brick was speechless.

“Think of all the nice things you can do for Little Baron with that kind of money,” she continued.

“You don't have to convince me, Misty. I'm in!” Brick said enthusiastically.

“By the way, Brick, I realize that what we had ran its course. I was hurt and angry at first, but I made some adjustments and I don't have any hard feelings. We're better off as friends, anyway.”

“Misty, I…I'm really sorry things didn't—”

“It's cool,” she interrupted. “I'm over it, so drop the subject. Let's concentrate on getting this money,” she said brightly.

“I'm all in,” Brick agreed.

After Brick and Misty hung up, he thought about her offer. Misty had a tendency to inflate the truth, and he figured she was exaggerating about the private jet, the amount she was getting paid, and also his cut. Twenty thousand dollars for a day's work was as outrageous as Misty claiming someone was going to pay her a million dollars. Still, even if she paid him only a fraction of what she had promised, the extra money would help with his cash flow situation that had taken a big hit after child support had been deducted from his paycheck.

T
he private jet wasn't exactly the flying palace Misty had expected from Jeffrey Backus, but it was better than a commercial flight. She'd done her research and was aware that Backus owned a custom-designed jet that seated forty people. The décor was cream and white with an elegant staircase that led to a lounge with a 57-inch multiplex screen and white leather seats, a conference room, a master and guest bedrooms, gold-plated fixtures in the bathrooms and kitchen, and other luxurious amenities. She supposed he didn't think she was worthy of traveling in his personal aircraft, and the idea of being snubbed didn't sit well with her.

Though the ten-seater jet Backus had chartered for Misty was comfortable, it couldn't be described as luxurious. After four hours in the air, Misty retired to the bedroom, which wasn't anything special, only a small room with a bed. It would have been nice if Brick joined her and tightened her up like he used to back in the day, but he was more engrossed in the latest
Fast and Furious
movie than in Misty. One hand dug into a bag of microwave popcorn while the other held a container of iced tea. The snacks and movie had his undivided attention.

When they'd first boarded, he tried to snap open a can of beer, but Misty firmly let him know that he could not touch any alcohol
during the flight. She needed him focused and of sound mind when they reached their destination. When they were younger, Brick used to drink too much and was known to get the rams whenever liquor was in abundance. The last thing she needed was a drunk-ass bodyguard while trying to handle business in Hawaii. To his credit, Brick didn't protest laying off the alcohol and he seemed content sipping on soft drinks.

Gavin, on the other hand, was acting sullen and bitching about the size of the plane. His grandfather's plane, he said in a braggadocio manner, was equipped with a fitness room, showers, and several bedrooms. He also kept pestering Misty about using her abilities to help locate his missing lover. She wanted to laugh and could barely keep a straight face. His missing boyfriend was the last thing on her mind. Besides, she had no way of finding him, even if she wanted to. She had the gift of prophecy and healing power in her hands, and had no idea why Gavin thought she was like one of those kooky psychics who claimed to be able to locate the bodies of murder victims and find missing people.

An hour from their destination, Misty woke, freshened up, and changed into a navy Dior dress and Jimmy Choo heels. After admiring herself for several minutes, she called Brick's phone and told him to come to the bedroom and change from his jeans into the European-cut suit she'd brought along for him.

“Can I get some privacy?” Brick asked before stepping out of his jeans.

“Boy, please. I was sleeping next to your naked-ass only a few weeks ago, so don't be acting like I've never seen you out of your clothes before.”

With a resigned shrug, Brick unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants. Misty's mouth watered as her eyes glossed over his arms,
legs, and thighs. Brick was pure muscle. Taking a risk, she stole a glance at the bulge in his briefs. All of that coiled-up dick was going to waste stuffed inside his underwear. A sigh of regret escaped her lips, and Brick looked at her curiously.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“No, I was thinking that it's a shame we have to turn around and get back on this plane for another ten hours after we handle our business. It would be nice to relax in Hawaii for a day or two,” Misty said, coming up with a quick excuse.

“You want to sightsee while you're hauling around a million bucks?”