Authors: Brandon Massey
"Got a call from Old Mac today," Jackson said. "Said you
up and left with your buddies when you were supposed to be
working."
"I'm not working at that stupid store anymore," Jahlil
said. "Old Mac's racist. He treats me like I'm his slave."
"Old Mac ain't racist, and you know it. I've known him
twenty-some years. He's a good man. He did me a favor, giving you a job at his store"
Jahlil shrugged. That so-what shrug was the boy's re sponse to many of Jackson's points. It infuriated him. Why
couldn't they have an ordinary, two-way conversation?
"I can't keep getting you jobs, son," Jackson said. "I'm
using up all my goodwill with the business folk in town"
"I don't wanna work, anyway."
"If you're living with me, you've gotta have a job. You
got to learn to be responsible, earn your own paycheck.
That's the way the world is."
Another so-what shrug.
Jackson flexed his thick fingers on the steering wheel. He
wanted to seize Jahlil by the shoulders and shake him, to rattle some common sense into his head. Did the boy think that
life was only hanging out with his lazy buddies, playing ball,
and chasing girls? Jackson didn't know what Jahlil was thinking. That was the most frustrating-and frightening-thing
about his relationship with his son. He had no idea what his
son was thinking, and the unknown terrified him.
"What do you want from me?" Jackson said. He was surprised to hear himself speak the words.
For the first time since Jahlil had climbed in the car, he
turned and looked at his father.
"Huh?" Jahlil said.
Jackson cleared his throat. "You heard me right. What do
you want from me? I can't figure it out at all, so now I'm
asking you direct."
Jahlil shrugged. But then he said, "Stop riding me about
having a job. I want to enjoy being a teenager. I got my
whole life to work. That's what Mama would say. She wouldn't want me to work"
Jackson's breath snagged in his chest. If he drew in another breath, he felt that his lungs just might burst like balloons.
He could not believe that Jahlil had reached into their
shared tragedy-Paulette's death-and thrown it into his
face like this, to justify his unwillingness to hold a simple job. It was like a desecration of Paulette's memory. The boy
could not possibly know what he was saying.
But I asked him what he wanted, and he told me.
Jackson slammed the car into gear and screamed back
into town. He didn't slow until they reached their house.
They rocked to a halt in front of their ranch home.
"Go in, and stay put," Jackson said. "We'll talk about this
later."
"Whatever, man" Jahlil got out and strutted away.
Jackson watched his son go inside. He may as well have
been watching a stranger, someone else's child. This muleheaded, lazy kid could not possibly be his own son.
But Jackson could not shake the feeling that, somehow,
he was to blame for what had happened to his kid. The problem was that he couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong
and how he could work out of this mess.
Some chief he was. He was supposed to keep the town in
order, and he couldn't keep his own family in line.
Shaking his head, he went back to work.
Shortly after Chief Jackson left the basketball court with
Jahlil, a silver Lexus SUV cruised to the curb. Junior, who
was driving to the hoop when he spotted the vehicle, stumbled and lost the ball.
"Look at that!" Junior said.
The other players and the guys hanging out around the
court turned. Most of them only shrugged. But not Junior.
From his lawn-cutting jobs, he knew what kind of car just
about everyone in town owned. This one didn't belong to
anyone he'd seen before.
He drifted off the court to look at the Lexus more closely.
Someone shouted at him to come back to the game, but
Junior ignored him. The silver truck had mesmerized him.
Andre, his cousin, leaned against the chain-link fence,
smoking a cigarette. He was a big guy, around Junior's size. He had a black do-rag wrapped around his head, the end of it
trailing down his neck like a ponytail.
Andre nodded at Junior.
"That ride goes for about sixty grand," Andre said, coming to stand beside Junior. "You'd have to cut grass for
twenty years to save up enough to get that one, cuz ."
"You ain't lying," Junior said.
The Lexus truck hummed, idling. The windows were
tinted with a weird sort of reflective glass, so Junior couldn't
tell who was sitting inside.
The passenger-side window slid downward.
A bald-headed black man wearing shades and a gray suit
sat behind the steering wheel. He was real sharp and rich
looking, the kind of man Vicky Queen liked, Junior thought.
Classical music piped out of the vehicle. Junior had never
known anyone to listen to music like that, for fun. This guy
was kinda different.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" the man said. He had a
booming voice, and the strangest accent Junior had ever
heard. "May I speak with you for a moment?"
Junior pointed at himself and Andre. "Us?"
"Approach the vehicle, please."
Junior looked at Andre. Andre shrugged, took another
pull of his cigarette. Both of them stepped closer to the
Lexus.
The guy turned down his music.
"What you want, man?" Andre said.
The man smiled. He had teeth like someone in a Colgate
commercial-they were a perfect, shiny white. The contrast
of his teeth and his dark skin was striking.
"Would you be interested in a job?" the man said. "It
would be for one night only. It will be hard work, manual
labor, and that is why I am seeking the services of two strong
young men such as yourselves."
At the mention of a job, Junior leaned closer. "What
kinda work you want us to do, mister?"
"Digging," the man said. "As I stated, difficult manual
labor."
"Digging for what?" Andre said.
"You will be compensated well for your efforts," the man
said. As though by magic, a gold money clip that held a
thick wad of bills appeared in his fingers. "Each of you will
be paid two hundred fifty dollars."
"Two hundred fifty dollars!" Junior said. It would take
him a week to earn that much money. "Just for doing some
digging?"
"That is correct, gentlemen. I will require your services
this evening, at nine o'clock. Are you familiar with the residence named Jubilee?"
"Oh, uh, yeah," Junior said. "Up on the hill."
"Shit, that crib is haunted," Andre said. But he kept his
eyes on the dollars that the man casually held. "And you
ain't answer my question. What we gonna be digging for?"
The man sighed. The money vanished. He looked away
from them.
Junior's heart clutched. He could feel two hundred fifty
dollars about to slip out of his grasp.
He pushed Andre aside and stuck his head inside the
truck.
"Mister, we'll do the work. Don't mind my cousin."
The man flashed his dazzling smile. "It is good that you
are so industrious, young man. Please arrive at the gates of
Jubilee promptly at nine o'clock tonight. Make certain that
you are wearing boots and work clothing. I will supply
everything else that you will require."
"Yes, sir." Junior bobbed his head. "We'll be there"
"Until this evening, gentlemen." The passenger-side window came up. He cruised away, the Lexus purring like a panther.
Andre watched the truck leave, frowning.
"Junior, I don't know, man. Folks be saying that place is haunted. And that nigga still didn't say what we was gonna
be digging for."
Junior scratched his head. It was kinda funny, wasn't it?
He'd heard stories about the Mason place being haunted, but
he'd never set foot inside the house himself. And Andre was
right: the man hadn't said what they'd be digging for.
But two hundred fifty dollars was a lot of money. Andre
didn't have a job, but he had two kids and was living with a
woman, so he needed the money as much as Junior did.
"That is a lot of cash, though" Andre threw his cigarette
on the ground and stubbed it out with his foot. "All right,
cuz. I'll pick you up at a quarter to nine. Then we'll go check
out this gig."
"I'll be ready." Junior smiled. Already, he was thinking
about how, with two-fifty in his hands, he would be much
closer to buying his pickup truck.
Kyle awoke at sunset.
Contrary to popular perception, vampires did not sleep in
coffins. They preferred beds with mattresses-the more comfortable, the better. What sane creature slumbered in a wooden
box intended for the dead? Myths amused him sometimes.
He was in the master bedroom suite of Jubilee. The shutters-a custom design that guaranteed protection against
daylight were tightly closed, allowing deep shadows to
dwell inside. But his vision was perfectly attuned to the
darkness.
There wasn't much in there worth seeing. Like the rest of
the residence, this room ached for a renovation. Mamu had
done a commendable job of cleaning the house to make it
somewhat livable, but this was, by far, the most wretched room
in which Kyle had ever slept. Numerous wooden planks
were missing from the decaying hardwood floor. The walls,
riddled with peeling paint, appeared leprous. The ceiling fan had lost at least two blades, giving it the look of a junked
propeller. Cracks veined the windows.
Although Kyle had the means to renovate the property, he
would not waste money on the effort. They planned to live in
this town for only a few weeks. He had instructed Mamu to
purchase new beds, linens, special blinds, and necessary appliances and furniture, but to leave most of the mansion in
its present, dilapidated condition. For Kyle, it was a welcome change from the opulence in which he had lived all his
life.
He rose from the king-size bed. He wore black silk nightclothes. He slid on a matching pair of house slippers that
awaited beside the bed.
There was a knock at the door.
"Come in," Kyle said.
Mamu stepped inside. "The sun has set, monsieur"
"I've noticed." Vampires had a biological clock that synchronized their bodies to the rising and setting of the sun.
Mamu was aware of this, yet believed that he had to notify
Kyle each day. Kyle did not mind. Mamu was a man of rigid
habit.
"How did you sleep?" Mamu said.
"Wonderfully. The bed was comfortable. Thank you"
Mamu smiled, but Kyle sensed that his friend's question
had another meaning.
"I sensed a haunting spirit, though I did not see it," Kyle
said. He smiled. "It was afraid of me"
"Ah," Mamu said. "It knew that you are not a man"
"You are safe as long as I am here, my friend," Kyle said.
He clasped his hands and strolled across the room. "I'm
hungry. Come with me and tell me of your progress"
As they left the room and descended the spiral staircase,
Mamu filled him in on what he had accomplished that day.
Everything was prepared for the work they were to begin in
a few hours.
Flickering white candles illuminated the hallway and
rooms. Kyle despised electric light.
In the kitchen, Kyle retrieved a packet of blood from the
refrigerator. Mamu had procured two new refrigerators. He
stored his own human food in the other one.
Sipping blood, Kyle opened the door to the basement and
navigated the stone steps, Mamu following behind him.
Candles burned in the cellar, too.
"Ah," Kyle said, pleased.
A large bed occupied the middle of the area. It appeared
to have come from a hospital, as it had railings along the
side to prevent one from rolling off the mattress. An IV rack
stood beside the bed, though no bag of fluids hung from the
hook-yet.
A big pine entertainment center stood several feet in front
of the bed. It contained a twenty-five-inch television, a combination DVD/ VCR player, a stereo system, and a collection
of films and audio recordings. The media library was composed mostly of documentaries on historical topics, though a
handful of popular films and programs were included:
Dracula, starring Bela Lugosi, Interview with the Vampire,
featuring Tom Cruise, and the best of Dark Shadows, the TV
show with the fascinating vampire, Barnabas Collins.
"Is this what you had wished for, sir?" Mamu said.
"This is excellent. You've outdone yourself." Kyle approached the bed. He smoothed the crisp linens, fluffed the
thick pillows. He was as giddy as a child, his nerves crackling with energy.
Laughing, he suddenly leapt across the cellar to a short
staircase that led to a set of wide, wooden doors.
"Where do these lead?" Kyle said.
"Outside," Mamu said. "They are storm doors. I have
placed a new padlock upon them"
"You are too much, my friend." Kyle noted that there
were no windows in the chamber. Splendid.
Kyle had learned patience in his long life, but for once, he
could not wait. He could not wait until later tonight, when he
would, finally, meet his father.
David could not remember ever having such an enjoyable
first date.
He'd picked Nia up at seven, and they had driven to
Southaven, twenty minutes north of Mason's Corner. They
had dinner at a Southwestern-style restaurant, then visited
the multiplex cinema to see a movie.
After the film a typical summer action flick full of explosions and one-liners they stopped by a cafe for dessert.
"We had peach cobbler at lunch, and now we're eating
cheesecake," Nia said. She giggled, dangling her fork. "Are
you trying to put some weight on me, or what?"
"You are a little skinny."
She threw a napkin at him. "Hey, you said I was in great
shape"
"I was only trying to make a good first impression." He
laughed, then grew serious. "I wouldn't change one thing
about you"
She gave him the full effect of her lovely eyes.
It had been that kind of evening-filled with meaningful
gazes and flirtatious, yet profound, compliments. Only once
in his life had David been similarly at ease with a woman,
and that had been two years ago, with his ex-girlfriend,
whom he'd thought he would marry. When they broke up,
he'd been shattered. She had been his first genuine, mature
love. He'd doubted that he'd ever meet a woman like her
again. Lightning never struck twice.