RECKLESS — Bad Boy Criminal Romance (36 page)

              I look across the room.  By a bar, I see Cassie who I haven’t seen or spoken to since the night Ariel died.  I’m happy to see she’s there as a patron – not a stripper – as she’s clothed in a short black dress, heels, and a fourteen-carat gold nugget necklace around her neck that I wonder how she can afford.  Her hair is a slightly shorter.  She looks a little older, but still similar, still very attractive.  It’s unmistakably her.  I forget about Terrell and move toward the bar.

              Cassie seems mellow, at ease, smiling easily and enjoying herself.  As I near her, she turns and notices me and the color drains from her face.

              “Hey,” I say, a tinge of timidity in my voice.

              Ghostly white, Cassie can find no words until finally she utters, “What are you doing here?”

              “I just got back into the city.  What are you doing here?  This would be the last place I’d go to find you.”

              Cassie shakes her head and states plainly, “I hate your fucking guts.”

              “What?”

              “Where have you been all this time?”

              “I—”

              “Stop.  I don’t want to know.  I assumed you were dead and I like it better that way.”

              “Really?” I try to smile.  “I’m happy to see
you
.”

              “I’m not happy.  Where were you at your sister’s funeral, you piece of shit?  You disgust me.  I hate you.  I don’t want to talk to you.  I don’t want to see you.  Not now.  Not ever.”

              I feel bad, disappointed.  “I thought we loved each other at one time.”

              Cassie forces a fake, bitter laugh.  “Yeah, you love me.  Fuck you.”

              Suddenly Curtis shows up at her side and wraps his arm around her waist.  “Something wrong?”

              I look at him, incredulous.  “You two are together?”

              “This is my ex-boyfriend,” Cassie tells him.  “He’s bothering me.”

              “Take a walk and stay away from her,” Curtis tells me firmly.

              “I was just saying hello.  I’ll gladly leave.”

              Before I can walk away, Cassie blurts out, “He tried to rob you once.”

              “What?” Curtis asks, disbelieving.  “No.”

              I look back at Cassie, my adrenaline pumping.

              “He did,” Cassie insists.  “A long time ago.  He told me.  I remember … A guy named DeAnthony was involved too.”

              A glint of recognition in his eye, Curtis demands of me, “Hold on a second.”

              Nervously I ignore him, starting to walk away.

              He reaches out and grabs me by the collar of my shirt.

              Instinctively, I turn and throw a punch that connects with his left eye.  I hit him hard, but not that hard – hard enough to knock him down, but not hard enough to knock him out.  Realizing what I’ve done within a split-second, I dash for the exit.  I run to the Toyota.  One of Curtis’ crew chases me outside but he stumbles and trips over a concrete parking median.  I jump into the car and speed away.

              “What’s going on?” Angela asks nervously.

I drive hastily back to Terrell’s place.

              The house has a garage, so I park inside.  We check every door and every window in the house, ensuring they’re all locked.  We turn all the lights out and sit in the dark, peering out the windows periodically.

              “We’re not going to die like this, are we?” Angela asks, distraught, as we look out into the street.  “I mean, we’re not going to let that happen, right?”

              “No,” I say, not sure if I should believe myself.  “We’re going to make it.  Let’s just be careful.”

              After a couple hours Terrell arrives home and finds me.  “I know you just got here,” he says.  “But you need to leave – sooner rather than later.  As long as you’re in Memphis, your days are numbered.”

              “Did you talk to Curtis?”

              “He heard the name DeAnthony and he brought it up with me.  I told him I knew you back in the day and I was pretty sure you didn’t have anything to do with trying to rob him.”

              “Not that it even matters now.”

              “Yeah, you still put your hands on him.  Some people saw it and everyone who didn’t has heard about it.”

              I nod solemnly.

              “What were you thinking doing that?” he asks.

              “I wasn’t.  I felt threatened.  I reacted.  And I had no clue he was with Cassie now.  How is that possible?”

              “I planned on telling you before you had a chance to see her.  I didn’t think you were going to just show up at the club like that.  But after you left Memphis, she came to me a lot asking where you were.  She came to my house a bunch of times.  And when we opened the club she came there, asking and hoping maybe you’d show up, I guess.  I got sick of her badgering me.  That girl is persistent.  I’ll give her that.  She did everything from begging to crying to threatening me.  I told her I didn’t know where you were but she didn’t believe me.  Finally, after coming to the club so much, Curtis got his eye on her.  She didn’t seem that interested at first which made Curtis only want her more.  He started wanting her as his girlfriend.  I guess she got tired of waiting on you because eventually they got together.  He takes good care of her.  She lives in a little apartment he pays for.”

              “I couldn’t care less if she’s taken care of.  She told me she wished I was dead.  And with her telling Curtis I tried to rob him, I don’t think she meant it figuratively.  Fuck that stupid bitch.”  I shake my head.  “I kind of looked forward to coming back here, but … I don’t know.  Things are different now.  I don’t belong here anymore.”

              “It’s just not safe.  You have a target on your back again.  It sucks you just got here and now you have to go already.  But hey, disappear again until everything blows over.  People will get older.  They’ll forget.”

              “I’d rather stay away for good this time instead of running around, just waiting to come back … Did I hurt Curtis much?”

“When we talked, his eye was about swollen shut.  It’s going to be black for a while.”

              I can’t help but chuckle.

Terrell cracks a smile and says, “You sure know how to put yourself in fucked-up situations.”

“I know, I know.”  I think.  “Would I be okay to stay over tonight and leave tomorrow?”

“Sure.  Curtis has men on the lookout for you.  He doesn’t live around here though.  Neither does anyone who works for him other than me.  Stay in and you should be good.”

In the living room Terrell breaks out a bag of marijuana and rolling papers.  He invites Angela and me to partake.  I pass but tell Angela to go ahead if she wants.  I lie down in the guest bedroom.  My eyes adjust to the dark and I stare at the ceiling fan.  With marijuana smoke seeping into the room and swirling around me I fall asleep. 

I have a dream in which I’m walking on a remote, deserted, gorgeous stretch of beach land.  The sun is heavy, foamy blue waves break onto the shore, and the sand is pure white.  Soon I find my sister Ariel sitting on the shoreline, wearing a red bikini, smoking a joint, and gazing out at the water.  She takes a long drag, looks up at me and says, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sit down.”

I sit beside her and she hands me the joint.  I take a drag, exhaling the smoke through my nostrils, and hand it back to her.  I chuckle.

“What?” she asks.

I shake my head.  “This is so fucking weird.”

“Why?”

“What are you doing here?”

She only smiles.

“Do you know everything about me?  I mean, everything that’s happened since you died.”

She smiles.  “Sure.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t at your funeral.”

“Fuck it,” she says, taking a puff.  “How could I have cared?  I was dead.”

I nod.

“I like her, by the way.  This girl Angela.”

“Yeah?  Certain things about her remind me of you.”

“Yeah, I could see that.  She’s smarter than you, you know.  Just like I was.”

I exhale a chuckle.  “If you’re so much smarter, then why are you dead and I’m still alive?”

She shrugs.  “Well, you’re alive for now.”

“What should I do then?”

“About what?”

“You make it sound like I could die soon.  Should I change somehow?”

“No, why change?  I like you the way you are.  You were always my favorite person.”

I smile.

“Keep doing what you’re doing.  Do whatever you want.  You’re going to end up dead one way or another.  Everyone is.  It doesn’t matter what you do in the meantime.”

“Some people think it matters.”  I take the joint.

She guffaws.  “That’s just because they want their good deeds and their suffering and their accomplishments and everything else to count for something.  Like some ongoing tally that they can cash-in on in the afterlife for some fabulous door prizes.  Both the biggest saint and the biggest scumbag are going to end up in the ground just like me and that’s all there is to it.”

I hand her back the joint.  “That’s really disturbing and really liberating at the same time.”

She blows smoke up into the air and laughs.  “It is really liberating!”

We sit together a moment in silence.

I stare out at the water and she glances over at me.

“I miss you,” she says.

“Fuck.  I miss you too.”  I rub my eyes and ask, “Why did you have to die?”

She contemplates it and looks at me and says, “Without death what value does life have?”  She takes one last, long drag off the butt of the joint and then tosses it into the white sand.  She stands up, looks out at the water, then at me.  “I’m going in.”

“Well, wait.  Sit down a second.  I want to spend more time with you.”

“I don’t want to sit here.  Go in with me.  C’mon, you and me.”  She takes off toward the water.

“Wait a second.”  I get up after her.

She takes a few steps into the water and then dives in.  She paddles through a few waves.

I yell after her but she doesn’t turn back.  I toe the shoreline, but I’m fully-clothed and afraid to go in after her.  Large, breaking waves envelope her body and I can’t see her at all anymore.  I stand, straining my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.  But then the dream ends.

              By mid-morning I wake up.  I put my belongings back into my suitcase.  In the living room Angela is asleep on the couch, still wearing her clothes from the day before.  I nudge her shoulder until she wakes up.  “Get your stuff together here in a minute,” I tell her.  “I’m going to go get some gas in the car.  We need to leave when I get back.” 

I hop in the Toyota.  I decide I want one last look at my old house and neighborhood before I leave town.  With a quarter tank of fuel, I decide to do that first and then fill up on the way back.  I keep an eye on my rearview mirror to ensure I’m not tailed.

My old street has been repaved.  The new, dark asphalt is clean, unscuffed.  Trees that hung limply, almost dead, look strong now though winterly barren.  A police station has been built in the center of the neighborhood.

I find my old house, well-kept and repainted.  In the yard a young brother and sister play, bundled up in heavy coats and knit caps and mittens.  Their father sweeps the driveway.  I sit in my car, parked across the street, and watch until the mother opens the front door and calls them all in for lunch.  I feel happy at first, but before long the whole scene depresses me and I don’t know why.

I drive out of the neighborhood, downhearted, not checking my rearview.  At a Circle K I fill up with gas, then park and go to the restroom at the back of the building.  The restroom has a single sink and one graffiti-covered stall.  An automatic soap dispenser is hanging, broken, from the wall and a film of grime discolors the tile floor.

After I walk in, someone else bursts in behind me.  “Turn around and keep your hands where I see them,” he says.  He points a pistol at me with one hand while he locks the restroom door with his other.  “You remember me?  I knew I’d be the one to find you.”

I recognize him as Curtis’s associate who chased me out into the parking lot at the club.  He wears baggy jeans and a black hoodie.

“You know how much money I’m going to make off this?” 

“Curtis is going to pay you a bonus for shooting me?”

“No.”  He smiles a crooked smile and reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a razor-sharp butcher knife.  “You’re gettin’ chopped up.  And you’re gonna do it to yourself.  At least you’re gonna do as much as you can until you lose consciousness.  We’ll see how far you get before I gotta finish the job.”

“You want me to dismember myself?”

“That’s right.  And if you refuse or try any shit, I’ll put a bullet in your brain and it’ll happen anyway.  One way or another, you’re going to be found in this dirty fucking bathroom in pieces.”