Private Deceptions (5 page)

"What’s so funny?" Wanda asked.

"Nothing really. Just thinking about Vickie."

"Vickie? What brought that on?"

"Been thinkin’ a lot about the old days. You know. How Vickie died and the effect it had on things."

"It affected all of us."

"Yeah, I guess, but not like it did Jamaica. How is he anyway?"

"He says he’s all right, but the last time I talked to him, I don’t know, there was something funny about the way he was talking. Something about his tone brought me right back to when Vickie died."

"Where is he?"

"He’s in the Bahamas. Black says he has gotten himself into a few things down there. I just hope that whatever he’s into doesn’t involve drugs, is profitable, and doesn’t cause any of us any grief."

"You think he’s back on?"

"I don’t know, Nick. It would be a real shame, because he worked very hard to get himself clean," Wanda said and she paused. "But Jamaica wasn’t the only one who took Vickie’s death hard. The one who took it the worst was Mike."

She was definitely right about that. And to be honest, I can’t say I would have been any better. After all, she died in his apartment. Overdosed on pure cocaine he had there. Black never did any caine, but those days he would always keep some around ’cause women would do all kinds of shit for it.

That night we were hangin’ out; when Black saw André, he gave him some pure. Black didn’t get home until nine the next morning. He said he was getting ready to put a cut on it, but he was blasted and didn’t feel like it. So he threw the bag on the coffee table and crashed on the couch. He had been asleep a couple of hours when Vickie came in. She had a key to all of our apartments. They kicked it for a minute, and then Black passed out again. When he woke up again and decided to get in the bed, the door to his bedroom was locked. Black knocked on the door but Vickie didn’t answer. When Black noticed the bag was gone from the table, he kicked the door in and found her laying on the floor naked with the pipe still in her hand.

After that it was like something snapped inside of him. You wouldn’t know it to see him or talk to him, but that was when he really earned the name, Vicious Black. The first time I really noticed it, he had called me and said, "Come scoop me up, I gotta make a run." Whenever he said that, we knew he was going to either collect money for André or hurt somebody for not paying. And you hated to see Black coming, ’cause you knew why he was there, and it was all bad. I picked Black up and we were on our way to see an old hustler named Wilson Goode.

"So what’s up with good old Mr. Wilson?" I asked.

"He owes André fifty large," Black replied.

"For what? Wilson’s a pimp. How’d André get his hooks into him?"

"Says Wilson came to him, wanting to borrow fifty grand. You know at twenty-five cents on the dollar André was more than happy to front it to him. When he couldn’t pay, André put that ass to work. But he’s been playin’ André off for a couple of weeks now. Cynt said that Wilson was at her spot late one night and he dropped ten grand playing poker. Said he had some young girl with him."

"Young girl and a old man, cause of trouble since the world began," I said laughing.

"I thought it was a two faced woman and a jealous man, that was the cause of trouble since the world began."

"Whatever, Black." We both laughed.

"I know the little honey he got himself hooked up with," Black said. "She’s a fine ass bitch."

"Can I fuck her?"

"Don’t waste your time. She thinks she is too pretty to move. Wasn’t even worth the time it took for me to get undressed."

"I hate it when that happens."

When we got to Wilson’s apartment I knocked on the door, but nobody answered. "I know he’s in there. I hear them talking." Black stepped up to the door and listened for a second or two, then he put both of his hands on the door and pushed it. "Move back." Then he took a step back and kicked it in. Black stepped aside and I ran in with my gun out. Black followed me in calmly with his hands in his coat pockets. There was Wilson and two very pretty young ladies. Both of them were naked, and all Wilson had on was his underwear. On the coffee table was cocaine. Some rock and some powder and two or three pipes.

"What the fuck!" Wilson shouted. "What the fuck you mutha fuckas doing here? And my fuckin’ door! Y’all gonna fix my door."

When Black saw the dope on the table his eyes narrowed.

"Black! You hear me talkin’ to you nigga! Black! What the fuck is goin’ on here?"

But Black didn’t answer. He just stood there staring at the dope.

"André sent us," I finally said. "He wants his money."

"I’m a get him his money, Black. I just need a day or two to make some things happen. You tell him that."

"You two get dressed and get outta here," Black said to the women.

"They ain’t gotta go nowhere. Y’all ain’t gotta go nowhere. They were just about to leave."

"I ain’t gonna say it again." And with that, both ladies got up and went in the bedroom. "Go with them, Nick." I did so, gladly.

While I was in there watching the ladies get dressed, I could hear Wilson yelling at Black, but Black never said a word. Once I escorted the ladies out, Black took a gun and a silencer out of his pocket. "Search the place, Nick. Find me some money." Black put the silencer on the gun, but the whole time he’s staring at the table. I put on my gloves and tossed the place.

By this time, Wilson’s whole attitude had changed. Now, with the ladies gone, he was beggin’ Black to give him a couple of days to come up with the money.

"I found this under the mattress," I said, handing Black twenty grand.

"On the real, Black, I need that money to make this thing happen. Give me ‘til tomorrow, Black. I’ll make it worth while for both of you."

Black stood up. I started for the door thinking that Black would just take the money and be back on that ass again tomorrow. But not this time. Black raised his gun and fired two shots to Wilson’s head.

This is how it went. André would send Black to collect, and Black would kill them. After awhile, André sent Black away before he killed everybody that sold for him.

Wanda yawned and got up from the couch. "I’m going to get some coffee, you want some?" she asked.

"No, Wanda, I’m fine."

"I know." Wanda whispered.

She turned away and walked into the kitchen. I watched her walk. Although we had spent the last nine hours together, this was the first time I noticed how pretty Wanda was. Not the tall skinny girl we used to tease as kids. Before yesterday, it had been ten years since I had seen her. And I probably wouldn’t have called her if I weren’t in this trouble. I felt pretty selfish. She had spent the night fencing with Kirk. I know she’s tired, but she has no plans for sleeping until she has the whole story. Black posted a million dollars to bail me out. They were my family and I would never turn my back on them again.

"Sure you won’t have some?" Wanda said, with a deep yawn.

"I’m sure. Why don’t you get some rest? I know you must be tired. Get some sleep and we’ll start again in the morning when you wake up."

"I don’t think so, Nick. You wanna know why?"

"Yeah, Wanda, tell me why."

"Because as soon as I went to sleep, you would leave and I’d never get the whole story. And I need to know the whole story. You do understand that, don’t you, Nick?"

"I understand, Wanda."

"Good for you. Which reminds me. Why didn’t you tell me about killing André?"

"Black said not to. He said if you ever asked, to ask you if the words conspiracy to commit murder mean anything to you counselor?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "That’s the same ten cent answer I got from him. Even though it didn’t turn out that way."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Wanda looked away.

Whatever it was, it was something to her, but I didn’t push it. "Black’s always thinking ahead, ain’t he? Always thinking about us."

"That’s just how he is, you know that. He cares. Even though he’ll never admit to it. That’s why this thing with you and Bobby over Camille hurts him so much."

"I’m sorry."

"Why don’t you tell him yourself?"

I didn’t have a reason.

The next afternoon I drove to Brooklyn to see Ben Josephs. I gave some thought to what I was doing. I was driving to Brooklyn to see a blackmailer. In Brooklyn, of all places. I hate Brooklyn. I pulled up in front of the lot. I didn’t want to just walk in there and ask for him. So I decided to call and pose as a businessman who wanted to buy no less then five cars for a Limo service. That should be enough to get him to meet me somewhere. "Ben Josephs, please."

"He’s out on a test drive with a customer. Can one of our other salesman help you?"

"He’s not the owner?"

"No, Sir. Can one of our other salesman help you?"

"No, that’s all right, thanks."

Just a salesman, huh. Men will say anything to get some pussy. But the plan is still sound. What salesman could resist a five-car afternoon? So I parked my car, waited long enough for him to get back for his drive, and walked up on the lot. When a short balding white man approached me, I went into my act. "Hi there." Big smile, hand extended, "My name is Patrick Mitchell."

"Well, Mr. Mitchell, what can I show you?"

"Those Cadillac’s there. I need five of them. I was looking for Ben Josephs, is he around?"

"He’s right over there. I’ll get him for you, Sir."

He practically ran to tell him. And good ole Ben did a trot over to me. "Mr. Mitchell." Big smile, breathing hard, hand extended. "I’m Ben Josephs, what can I do for you?" After what Chésará told me about his performance in bed, I had to bite my lip to keep from laughin’ in his face.

"Well, Ben. You don’t mind if I call you Ben?"

"No, Sir. Not at all."

"I run a Limo service and I need to buy five of your Cadillac’s there."

"I’d be happy to show them to you, Sir."

I’ll just bet that you would Ben. To sell me five Cadillac’s you’d probably kiss my ass from here to across the street.

I test drove one car, I liked it, I thought about actually buying it. Then reality set in and I remembered why I was there. I got out and picked another Caddy. Ben went quickly to get the keys. While he was gone I thought again about what I was doing there. The thought had occurred to me that this wasn’t what I was hired to do. Mrs. Childers hired me to find her missing brother. Plain and simple. Not take some low rent blackmailer off her neck.

Mrs. Childers.

I closed my eyes and I could see her sitting in front me. Saw her smile, the need in her voice, calling out to me.
Nick
. That’s why I was there. As Ben approached I closed my eyes again. This time I saw us naked and making love. Laying on my back with her lay on top of me. I touched her face with both hands and drew her closer. Our lips met.

Ben threw me the car keys. "You drive," I said, throwing him back the keys.

"Huh?"

"I wanna see if it’s comfortable in the back seat."

"Okay. Yeah, this is for a Limo, right?" Ben asked.

We got in and Ben drove away. "What do you drive, Ben?"

"Black Acura."

"Ooooh."

"Yeah, boy, the women really go for it."

"Probably the only way a
can’t keep it up mutha fucka like you can get a woman."

"What you say to me, nigga?" Old Ben turned around and looked into the barrel of my .9.

"I said, it’s probably the only way a can’t keep it up mutha fucka like you can get a woman."

"Yeah, man, whatever you say. You can have the car. Please, just don’t kill me. I got a family."

"Calm down. I don’t want the car, Ben. But there is something I want from you."

"What, man?"

"You have a picture I want."

"What picture?"

I hit him in the back of the head. Not hard. I didn’t want him to wreck the car. "Don’t insult my intelligence, Ben. The picture of you and Mrs. Childers. You’re gonna give me that picture, now. You’re gonna give me any copies you have, and if there is a negative, I want that too. And if I hear of you ever tryin’ to contact Mrs. Childers again, I’ll kill you. Slow. You feelin’ me, Ben?"

"Yeah, man, I feel you."

"But to show you what a nice guy I am, Ben, I’m gonna let you keep the money you blackmailed outta her. All I want is that picture."

"I don’t have it with me."

"Well, where is it?"

"At my house. I can get it for you and bring it to you tonight."

"I don’t think so, Ben. Let’s just go get it now."

"I can’t go now. I don’t get off work until six. I’ll get fired if I leave now. Give me a break man."

"Give you a break." I looked at my watch. It was almost four. "I guess we’ll be test driving cars for the next couple of hours, huh, Ben."

For the next two hours, Ben chauffeured me around Brooklyn and we got better acquainted. He wasn’t a bad guy, for a blackmailer. He was ex-army, so we had something to talk about. We even knew some of the same people. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was blackmailing Mrs. Childers, we could have hung out.

Mrs. Childers. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I wanted to see her, talk to her, get to know her.
Here you are again, fallin’ hard for another man’s woman.
I imagined, but still couldn’t imagine her being with him.

Once six o’clock rolled around we got in Ben’s Acura and he drove to his house. He lived in a nice house in the East New York section of Brooklyn. "Wait here, I’ll be right back," Ben said, and started to get out of the car.

"Yeah, right." I got out too.

"Wait a minute, man. My wife and kids are in there."

"What’s your point?"

"I don’t want her involved in this business."

"Good, then you’ll be a good boy and get that picture. I’d hate to have to kill your wife and kids, but I will. Now let’s go."

Ben unlocked the door to the house and we went in. The house was immaculate and smelled of dinnertime. "Your wife a good cook, Ben?"

"Yeah, good down home cook. Met her when I was stationed at Fort Mac in Georgia."

"Ben!" His wife yelled from the kitchen. "That you?"

"Yes, Renée."

"You’re home on time for a change. You must not be feelin’ well." She came out of the kitchen; she was a pretty woman. Naturally pretty, not done up, you know what I’m sayin’. No make up, no fake hair or nails. None of that. "I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company." She came toward me with her hand out. "I’m, Renée, Ben’s wife."

"Patrick Mitchell. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"We were just about to have dinner. Have some?"

"No, I just came to get something from Ben and then I have to go, but everything smells delicious."

"We’re having fried pork chops, baked macaroni and cheese, candied yams, collard greens, corn bread and freshly squeezed lemonade."

"Mmm, sounds good, but I really can’t. But maybe you’ll give me a rain check?"

"That’s right, honey, Mr. Mitchell has to go."

"Nonsense. You know you want to. I can see it in your eyes. You look like a man who appreciates a good meal. You married, Mr. Mitchell?"

"Please call me, Patrick. And no, I’m not married."

"When was the last time you had a home cooked meal?"

"I couldn’t even tell you."

"Then it’s settled, I insist."

"Well since you put it that way, Mrs. Josephs, I accept."

"Good. You just have a seat at the table. Ben, you call the children." I looked over at Ben as his wife went back in the kitchen. The frown on his face let me know how he felt about me staying for dinner. I didn’t care; I was having fun with this. And besides; I was hungry and everything did smell delicious. Ben rolled his eyes and went to call the children to dinner.

Everything was wonderful; I made a complete pig of myself. She really was a good cook. Ben was pretty quiet during the meal, as one might expect for a man in his position. But his wife was a very entertaining conversationalist. I’m a sucker for a good conversation. Ben had a nice family, two very polite kids. After dinner, they excused themselves. His wife got up and cleared the table. "Ben always has a brandy after dinner. Would you like one, Mr. Mitchell? I mean Patrick."

"Thank you, that would be nice."

"What you think you doin’?" Ben whispered.

"Having a brandy after dinner, — with Ben." As soon as his wife and the children were out of eye and earshot, I took out my gun. "You go get those pictures. I’ll be in the kitchen with your wife."

Ben got up and walked away, while I joined her in the kitchen. "I just wanted to thank you for twisting my arm and having me to dinner, Mrs. Josephs."

"Please, call me Renée."

"Well, Renée, everything was wonderful. Where did you learn to cook like that?"

"I’m a country girl. My grandmother taught me. Didn’t you know, all us country girls can cook like this?"

"Where you from?"

"Flowery Branch, Georgia. I know you never heard of it."

"No, I can’t say that I have." I laughed, as Ben returned with an envelope. He handed it to me and I opened it and looked inside to verify the contents. I thought Ben was gonna faint. "Well, people, I really do have to go now, but, Ben, Renée, thank you very much for having me to dinner."

"It was our pleasure havin’ you." Renée said, leading me by the arm to the front door. "Anytime that you’re in the neighborhood, promise me that you’ll stop by."

"I don’t get out to Brooklyn much, but I won’t hesitate to stop by if the need arises. Right, Ben?"

"Right," Ben said, as he walked out the house.

"Pleasure meetin’ you, Renée." I smiled seductively, her left eyebrow went up, and she blushed.

Once we reached the sidewalk, I stopped and turned to Ben. "That’s a real nice family you have there, Ben."

"Thank you. You got what you came for, now get out of here," Ben said looking away. Tryin’ to sound tough.

"Renée seems like a good wife. Too nice for you to be cheatin’ on her and blackmailing women."

"Yeah, sure."

I took out my gun again and pointed it at his head. It was dark and besides, I got what I came for so I really didn’t care who saw me now. "Don’t act tough, Ben. You deserve to die for what you’ve done, and I will come back here and kill you if I hear that you’ve even called Mrs. Childers again. Get me?"

"You won’t."

"When were you supposed to see her again?"

"Tonight."

"Where and when?"

"Ten o’clock at
Halcyon
."

And with that I walked to the train station.