Chapter 17
Darrell looked across the pool table, intently eyeing the eight ball. He viewed it from all angles as he planned exactly how he was going to make the shot - because there was no doubt he
would
knock the ball in. He eyed the pile of money that was at stake - $500. He could care less about the money - it was the sport of the game.
Reaching over and picking up his glass, Darrell swallowed the whiskey and let it smoothly flow down his throat. He gestured for the waitress to bring him another before bending down to line up the cue ball. The man he was playing against bent down as well and watched the balls as closely as Darrell.
Still poised to take his shot, Darrell slowly looked over his shoulder and stared until the man, who went by the name of C. Money, reluctantly moved back. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Darrell brought his attention to the pool table again.
“No way he’ll make dat.”
Darrell didn’t bat an eye at the mockingly loud taunt from one of the C. Money’s homey’s. He knew they were tryin’ to throw him off his game, but it wasn’t gonna work. They were playing best three out of five and if Darrell made this shot, he would win…again.
Using a relaxed and loose wrist stroke, he slid the pool stick back and forth a couple of times, then lightly tapped the cue ball. It bounced off the side of the table to perfectly bank the eight ball into the corner pocket. Ignoring the loud cursing around him from C and his boys, Darrell winked at the waitress and threw back another shot of whiskey before sending an arrogant smirk towards Money.
“Game, man.” Darrell reached for the stack of bills he’d just won, but Money slammed his hand on top of them.
“You cheated.”
Darrell noticed that Money’s friends were slowly surrounding him as the crowd nervously looked the other way. Darrell knew the other man and his posse were bad news, but he wasn’t intimidated in the least.
“How did I cheat? You were standing right there watching me the whole time.” Darrell winked at the woman sitting on a stool a few feet away. “What do you think, sexy? You think I won fair and square?”
A thousand knots formed on Money’s face. He scowled at the woman, who quickly ducked her head and wiped the flirtatious smile from her lips. Throwing his pool stick down, Money roughly shoved Darrell in the chest.
“You must don’t know who you fuckin’ with! That’s my bitch you talkin’ to!”
Darrell shrugged. “Maybe you need to tell her that.”
The look on C. Money’s face was priceless. In one motion, he reached behind his back and snatched his gat from the waistband of his pants then pointed it straight at Darrell. People screamed and scattered to get out of the line of fire.
“You wanna repeat that?” he asked Darrell with a deadly expression.
“I think you heard me the first time.”
With his finger resting on the trigger, Money aimed the gun at Darrell’s head. “You must think this is just for show, huh?”
Darrell looked him dead in the eye and slowly walked towards him. He leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the barrel of the gun.
“Do it.”
Darrell’s senses may have been dulled from all of the alcohol he’d consumed, but he knew what he was doing. He’d been roaming aimlessly from city to city for the last three months and felt as if he were in an even worse place now than before he left Vegas. He was so very tired. He’d had enough of the nightmares that would not let him rest and enough of drinking himself into a stupor every night until he passed out. Darrell tightly closed his eyes. He was too much of a coward to do it himself; this was the next best thing.
“I said do it,” he repeated through clenched teeth.
The look of disbelief on Money’s face would’ve been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious. He looked around and saw everyone staring at him, waiting to see what he was gonna do. His hand tightened on the gun, ready to pull the trigger. If this fool had a death wish, he didn’t have a problem granting it.
Seconds before he was ready to follow through, he noticed a man standing behind Darrell. Money couldn’t make out his face, but he was separated from the frightened crowd and staring straight at him. The man was older with a large frame and seemed horribly out of place in these surroundings.
Not knowing why, Money lowered the gun. He gave Darrell a final loathing once over then signaled to his friends that they were leaving. Although puzzled, they followed him out of the small club without protest. Darrell was silent as he watched them leave.
Damn! Can’t even get a cap busted in my ass!
As activity started up again, Darrell slapped the waitress on the ass and told her to bring him another drink before managing to drunkenly weave his way to the back and sit down at an empty table he found. He was staring out at the tiny dance floor with a blank look on his face when he felt somebody standing beside him. He looked up and saw an older man gesturing towards the empty chair.
“Mind if I sit down?”
“Matter of fact I do…..” Darrell’s voice trailed off. He looked at the man as if he were crazy when he sat down anyway. Old or not, he was getting ready to get cussed the fuck out. When the waitress came back with his drink, Darrell smiled at her and reached in his pocket for his money, but the man picked the glass up and put it back on the waitress’ tray.
“He’s changed his mind.”
Darrell sat up straight. “I don’t know who you are, or what kind of shit you on, but you got two seconds to get outta my face.”
The corner of the man’s mouth lifted as he studied Darrell. “Don’t you think you’ve been running long enough?”
Darrell frowned. “What….?”
“Just seems like you’re trying to avoid something, but I don't think it’s working. I’ve seen you in here before, and each time it's like you’re inviting disaster. When that doesn’t work, you drink until you can barely stand up…almost as if you’re trying to get yourself killed.”
Darrell sat back in his chair and stared at the man, wondering why he was even listening to him. “Yeah? Well, it don’t seem to be workin’, does it?”
“Running from problems never help. As soon as you stop running, they’ll still be there waiting to be dealt with. I don’t need to know what the problem is, but I do know this: nothing happens by chance.” He leaned towards Darrell. “I'm aware that you don’t know me from Adam, and after I've said my piece I'll leave you alone.”
Darrell shook his head and waved him off in a dismissive gesture. “I don’t’ wanna hear nothin’ you gotta say, ole man.”
“Too bad because I’m saying it anyway. You remind me of someone I used to know. I couldn’t help him, but I promised myself that I would make it up by helping as many people as I could.”
“Oh, trying to soothe a guilty conscious, huh? Fine. Spit it out then leave on your own or I'll help you with a good, swift kick in the ass,” Darrell slurred.
The man wasn’t offended at all as he continued. “In my lifetime, I've found that whatever is meant to be will surely be. It’ll always find a way to come about. We might be able to prevent it today, or the next month, or even the next year, but eventually, fate is going to have its way.”
Darrell glared at the man. “I don’t believe that shit. Maybe some things can be prevented if….”
“If what? Son, there comes a time when we have to leave the past behind, because it’s just that - the past. It can’t be changed. And don’t worry about the future, because no one can predict that. We need to live for today. Make every day, every hour, every minute, every second count.” He paused and held Darrell’s eye. “Our loved ones are never gone. They’ll live forever in our hearts and through our memories.”
As hard as he tried, Darrell couldn’t block out the wisdom of the man’s words as they filtered through his drunken haze. “Easy as that, huh?”
“People are brought together for a reason, and everything has its season….”
Darrell rapidly blinked and cleared his throat. Without looking at the man, he stood up and walked towards the exit.
Running again, huh?
He paused as the taunting words blew in his ear. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to go back, but when he looked at the table, the man was gone. Darrell frowned and looked around. He’d only taken a few steps. The place wasn’t that big, and the only exit was in the opposite direction.
What the fuck…
One month later…
Bryan sat behind his desk in his office at
Club Ecstasy.
Having just hung up the phone with the investors, they’d finally come to an agreement on a joint venture that would include the latest club being opened in Atlanta. He stood up and went to stare out the window.
“Well. We did it, Roni. This was your baby. Your idea. And I have a feeling it’s going to be the best of the lot.”
“Fa’ sho’. Did you expect anything less?”
Bryan spun around as he heard a deep offended voice. A wide smile slowly spread over his face.
“Darrel…?”
Darrell returned the smile. “Hell yeah it’s gonna be the best yet. My baby was brilliant. Don’t act like you don’t know she was the brains behind the success.” Darrell shot Bryan a teasing look.
Bryan laughed. “She was that, my friend. She definitely was that.” Bryan walked over and embraced Darrell in a giant hug and patted his back with a heavy hand. Darrell laughed as he returned the hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too, B. You lookin’ good. See you handlin’ business as always. I guess you‘ve sealed the deal for the new club. Congratulations.”
Bryan nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him congratulations went both ways since Darrell owned part of the club, but he decided not to broach that subject yet. It was enough just to have him back home. He stepped back and waved towards a chair.
“Here, sit down. When did you get back into town?”
“Late last night.”
Bryan nodded. “Does Marcus know you’re back?”
Darrell grinned. “Yeah, I went by the hospital when I got in last night and saw that knucklehead. He was a little pissed off at first, but I guess he kinda missed me.”
“We all did, Darrell. No one’s talked to you in almost six months. You could’ve called to let us know you were okay.”
Darrell shifted in the chair. “You act like I didn’t send a coupla letters.”
Bryan’s gaze stabbed him at the obvious misrepresentation. “A postcard with your name scribbled on it is not a letter. We were worried sick. Especially Marcus.”
“I had to get away, Bryan. I had to deal with….” He swallowed hard before continuing. “I had to deal with Roni’s death in my own way. In my own time.”
Bryan nodded. “I understand. Well, buddy, I hope you’re ready to jump back into the swing of things. We have a lot to go over with this deal that’s almost finalized.”
Darrell stared at his friend, grateful he didn’t question him further. Eventually they’d talk, but not now. He had been taking things one day at a time - that was the only way he’d gotten to the point where he could even say Roni’s name. A look of understanding passed between the two men.
“If you still want me to be a part of the business, then I’m ready.”
Bryan smiled. “Your office has been waiting for you since the day you left.” He stood up and came around the desk. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.” He put his arm around Darrell’s shoulder and walked to the door.
“Just tell me you didn’t decorate it.”
“Look smartass, if you had been here, you could’ve done it yourself. And anyway, I’ll have you know I have excellent taste.”
Darrell looked around Bryan’s office and frowned at the heavy wood furnishings and dark muted colors. “Uh. Yeah. In other words, I’ll be hiring someone to redecorate ASAP….’ole man.”
Bryan glowered. “Punk.” They glared for a moment then laughed. “Good to have you back, D.”
Darrell’s heart suddenly felt ten times lighter. “Yeah. It’s good to be back.”
Bryan slowly swirled the amber colored liquid around in his glass before taking a sip. He stared out the window of his office, letting his mind wander over the events that took place earlier today.
Darrell had left several hours ago and would be back first thing in the morning to take his rightful place in the business which was now partly his. He was glad to have his friend back where he belonged. He didn’t know if they would ever find out what happened after Darrell left…maybe it was better than way. Maybe a
lot
of things were best left the way they were.
What he did know was that Luther Thorpe and the man Luther hired to kill Roni were dead. Officially, Thorpe’s death had been ruled a suicide. Rakeem was found not long after, apparently the victim of a random act of violence in a seedy motel room. Deep down, Bryan knew there was more to the story and believed with every fiber in his being that Darrell had had a hand in delivering a swift, fitting justice for those two. He was almost sure of it.
Bryan glanced over at the picture of Roni which sat on his desk beside those of his wife and kids.
You should be here, Roni. Right beside us working, laughing…living.
He couldn’t help but think about how all of their lives had been irrevocably changed. The day Roni was shot had been the worst day of his life. He’d never felt so powerless and helpless. Seeing her lying in that hospital bed at death’s door….that sight would always stay in his mind.
Six months later, he still found himself asking the same question: had he done the right thing? At the time, he’d thought it was for the best, but maybe…
Bryan finished off the cognac then quickly came to a decision. Walking over to his desk, he sat the tumbler down and reached for the phone. He only hesitated a moment before dialing the number.
“Yes, its Bryan Hargrove….thank you.” Bryan waited a few seconds then
an
tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth before he walked back over to the window and stared out at the Vegas skyline.
“Hey sweetie…how are you…?” he said in a gentle voice. “No…don’t try to talk, just listen. You made me promise to let you know…I thought about it long and hard before I decided to call you, but I’m hoping this will somewhat ease your mind so that you can focus your energy on getting stronger: he’s back.”