Authors: Marie Wathen
Chapter
Three
“Damn,
you weren’t kidding about this place being a dump,” I say as we park along the
curb on the abandoned street. Scanning the tiny house on the corner of the
block surrounded by a chain link fence darning a sign that reads, ‘FORGET THE
DOG, FEAR THE OWNER,’ I notice a couple of out-of-place luxury vehicles parked
alongside several more-at-home-in-the-gutter pieces of shit in the driveway.
Through the rusty links of the house’s barrier, a large Rottweiler’s bark booms
over and over through the quiet street, his razor-sharp teeth drip foamy
spittle looking at me like I’m a rare porterhouse steak. Thank goodness I’m
still sitting inside the car.
“I
know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but…yeah, I got nothing.” Russ jokes to break
up the tension that sits with us like a third and unwanted passenger.
Giggling
at his dry sense of humor, I announce, “Curtain call.”
Nodding
as he reaches for the car door handle, Russ replies. “Break a leg, Ms. Angel
Johnson.”
Carefully
walking up the broken concrete sidewalk, I survey the busted up wooden house
and mentally cuss myself for not taking a hefty dose of
zofram
before coming. I’m sure the stench in this place will make my stomach roll.
Taking me by the elbow, Russ assists me with climbing the broken planks
gingerly stacked on top of cement blocks, posing as front porch steps. These
little land mines are exactly the reason why I wore my low heel boots.
Distribute your weight unevenly or catch a heel on the board and you could die
from blood loss before the ambulance arrives out here in the hood. Even armed
EMT’s don’t rush out to this part of town.
Russ
runs his hand around my back slipping a finger through one of my belt loops,
drawing my body close against his. This sweet gesture lets me know that he will
protect me at all cost. Exhaling loudly, I smile at him and nod with
confidence. He winks once before opening the door and together we cross the
threshold into the world of drug hazes, sex fogs and gun stupors.
“Rad,”
a raspy voice screeches as we enter.
“Hey,
Momma, you’re looking especially beautiful tonight,” he says teasingly, guiding
me toward an elderly lady propped up on a recliner in front of the blaring
television.
Momma,
Merilyn Braxton, is the legal proprietor of the eighty something year old house
and she doesn’t look much younger herself. Her wiry short hair lays flat in the
back from not washing in weeks. She is a plump lady, wearing a worn thin house
coat that’s missing a couple of snaps, partially revealing a bare buxom chest.
She glances from Russ to me and smiles revealing broken and gapped teeth. I
return the gesture while he introduces me.
“Momma,
this here little cutie is my Angel.”
“Well,
it’s about time Rad brought his woman by to pay a visit. He’s been talking
about you so much that I feel like we’re old friends. I’m Merilyn, but you may
call me Momma. Everybody does.” She winks before reaching into a pocket and
pulling out a crumpled up Kleenex. I squeeze the shit out of Russ’ arm signally
that I can’t witness this crinkled up old lady blowing her nose or doing
whatever it is she has planned with the overused tissue.
“I’m
going to take Angel to meet the boys,” he tells her, spinning us around
quickly.
Placing
the wadded up white paper under her nose, she replies, “Yeah.”
“Thanks,”
I whisper as Russ ushers me toward the room across from Momma. A shiver runs
through my body when she honks repeatedly as we rush away.
In
the next room there are several tattooed and pierced men and women sprawled out
around the small dining room and adjacent den. Three domineering men stand
crowded around the dining room table, covered with a few dozen bags of illegal
narcotics, several stacks of money and ten guns varying in shapes, sizes and
models. Being a gun collector, I survey the loot and quickly get disappointed
in the low budget mini arsenal they have displayed.
“Angel
these are my boys.” Grinning proudly after fist pounding each of them, Russ
introduces me. “Decks, Murph and Wise this is the little honey I told you
about. Angel.” Russ pulls me in for a kiss against my hair.
“Damn
brother, she is one fine piece of ass,” the first guy comments like I’m not
even in the room or that I might not be bothered by his lack of respect for
women in general. Playing my role up, I offer a fake, overzealous giggle in
return for his offensive compliment, when what I really want to do is knee the
jackass in his sack.
“That’s
Decks,” Russ offers. Hillary “Decks” Kennedy is tall and lean, with dark hair
and dark eyes, in his mid twenties.
He looks exactly like his mug shot.
He is the nephew to Nelson Kennedy, the lord over all that lies before them.
Decks’ eyes latch onto my bouncing chest and the guy beside him punches him to
break it. His stupid nickname derives from his love of card games. Criminals
aren’t always so creative with their aliases.
“Hey Angel.”
I turn my attention to a man matching the late
twenties, ruggedly handsome dark haired description of Jude “Wise” Kingston. He
pleads, “Ignore my disgusting friend. I’m Wise.”
Yep, I knew it
, I
applaud my brilliant memorization skills. “And this big guy here is Murph,” he
bumps him with his elbow, “say hi to the pretty girl, Murph.”
Wise
gestures toward the mammoth size guy, Shane “Murph” Murphy, standing with his
bald head tilted slightly to the side. The guy is so tall his head literally
skims the low ceiling in this run down shack. His hazel eyes lock onto mine
fiercely and I stifle a shiver.
Dude is freaking scary as hell
. Not much
for talking, Murph grunts while giving me a small, sideways chin lift. The
action makes me remember the guys in the car that passed Russ’ house yesterday.
I glance between them recognizing Murph and Wise as the two occupants of said
vehicle.
“Hi
guys. It’s a pleasure to meet y’all,” I respond, inflecting my southern drawl
slightly and all three guys smile at me. Truthfully, Murph just grimaced.
“So
you’re the new hottie at the TatHouse?” Decks asks stepping around the small
dining room table, I feel his eyes, like a hot tip on a poker roaming
repeatedly over every inch of my exposed flesh and branding into his memory.
“Now I will definitely be making my appearance down there soon.”
I
start my cover job next week. How is that I could swing suck a badass cover? I
had a talent for drawing in high school, took advantage of it in college when I
hooked up with the local tat artist who virtually foamed at the mouth when he
paged through my portfolio. I practically put myself through school honing my
skills on eager and drunken college kids.
I really hope this fucker doesn’t
become a regular customer
.
Taking
my hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze, Russ guides me over to a Georgia
Tech outdoor fold up chair, sitting in the corner of the room. He dusts
something out of it, that might still be alive, and I reluctantly sit. I
quickly take in my surroundings, noting the dilapidation of this aged house
touches every facet from floor to ceiling.
My
god, these drug houses just keep getting worse and worse
.
Russ
begins talking to the guys about the plans for the drugs spread in front of him
and an expected shipment due to arrive soon. In a matter of minutes, I am
completely forgotten. While pretending that I’m devoting all of my attention to
the sprinkling of split ends in my hair, I mentally log every detail they
discuss and file away every face that passes through over the next couple of
hours.
I
wasn’t joking about having a fantastic memory. I can remember specific details
from childhood that blows my parents and grandparents away. Sometimes it’s a
good thing, other times it’s a curse. Remembering painful events that others
can selectively forget so easily isn’t a choice for me. However, in this line
of work, it’s a gift that comes in handy because I don’t ever forget a face.
That alone has won most of my court cases. Plus, when I actually get to use it,
having a vivid memory helps me with the best part of this job. I’m a tech
junkie and can write the hell out of some code. I get off on the latest
gadgets, and can make a computer do things that the creators don’t know it is
capable of doing. It’s completely fucking orgasmic. Don’t want me digging
around and finding out everything there is to know about you? Don’t put it
anywhere
on the internet, even secure sites.
“If
Minder gets back in town before Friday, I’ll have another batch for the party
and we can make bank off the preppy, little dicks that will be there,” Decks
explains tossing a brown paper bag toward Russ.
Digging
into the sack, Russ bobs his head enthusiastically.
“Sweet
dude.
Let me know if you want me riding with you.”
“Nah,
I think I’ll have you hang out here. Wise has some family shit and I want Murph
with me. Think you can handle the house alone?”
Decks asks
Russ before glancing over at me, his eyes taking in every inch and I can only
imagine what he’s thinking.
“Sure.”
Pretending he is thoroughly disappointed, Russ shrugs and then winks at me. “I
guess me and that sweet thang can find something to occupy our time while we
sit around waiting on customers.”
“Cool,”
Wise replies for Decks, who refuses to stop eye-fucking me.
Stomping
feet outside draws the guy’s attention toward the front porch. Opening swiftly,
the door swings wide and bounces off the wall behind it. Two young boys rush
through it wildly, making a dash across the room toward Decks.
“Uncle
Decks, Uncle Decks,” the boys, no more than six years old, chant as they leap
into Decks expectant arms. They begin fast talking simultaneously, trying to
bide for his attention and I can’t understand one damn word.
“Hey
Bozo and Cletus,” Decks teases playfully, pulling both boys into a breath
squeezing embrace.
I
smile at how adorable the jackass can be with the children, but then frown
realizing that these kids are too damn familiar with this drug house. Shit like
this really pisses me off. Kids have no business being involved in this world.
I can’t imagine what kind of parent brings their children into this kind of
shit hole either.
“Uncle
Decks those are not our names. I’m
Jonas
and my brother’s name is
Jonesy
,”
the precious little blonde haired boy shouts while pointing at his twin.
“Mom,
tell Uncle Decks that our names are not Bozo and Cletus,” the other boy demands
looking behind him.
Directing
my attention toward the front door, I eagerly anticipate meeting the parental
unit that calls herself Mom, and yet acts like a total moron by putting her
children's lives in direct danger by bringing them here.
A
stick thin, blonde woman in her late twenties saunters in wearing a stark white
linen dress and six inch heels. Her hair and makeup are exquisitely done, and
the bag she clutches in her hand is definitely a designer label. I know because
I have the same damn purse back at home. I grunt in disgust, knowing that I
have one thing in common with a piece of trash like her and Russ shoots me a
warning glare.
“Boys,
get the hell off Decks,” she orders, stepping into the room.
“Now,
dammit!”
The bitch is screeching, all red-faced and furious, at the two
cuties when they don’t obey her first command.
Decks drops
the boys, rubs his hand over both cotton colored
heads and then demands, “Ah, get your prissy panties out of a bunch, Lourdes.”
Ah,
so this is Lourdes. Well fuck me
and let the games begin.
Chapter
Four
“Shut
the hell up, and go get the shit out of my Land Rover,” Lourdes snaps importunately
at Decks while walking through the small front entryway, clacking her heels
across the broken linoleum floor. She stops just inside the room and glares at
her brother with bitter hatred.
Lourdes
is an exceptionally beautiful woman with flowing platinum-blonde hair, styled
superbly and her body seriously makes me want to puke. As a matter of fact,
when she looks over at me for one brief second and her gaze rakes over me
deliberately slouching in this stupid ass canvas chair, I threw up in my mouth
a little. Too good for the likes of me, she doesn’t even acknowledge the newbie
crackhead in the corner. Clearly she sees me as less than, which doesn’t bother
me in the least bit. I’ve spent my entire life around Lourdes copycats. Hell,
my mother could shred this little hussy and her heir-apparent attitude, without
breaking a sweat.
After
scanning her over, from the top of her imaginary crown to the bottom of her
silver Christian Louboutin’s
,
I peel my eyes away from
the bitch and find Russ’ knowing smirk. He doesn’t know me
that
well. I
flip him off slyly and then scamper over to the table where he is hovering over
a small digital scale, weighing out individual bags of marijuana, his brown-bag
prize.
Placing
a kiss against his cheek, I whisper into his ear, “Asshole.”
“Mm,
Angel you say the sweetest things.” He chuckles just as softly while glancing
over his shoulder at me.
“Rad,
meet me out back to unload this new shipment,” Decks interrupts, taking Lourdes
car keys, and jogging out the front door, followed by a couple of his stoner
minions all too eager to get to the goodies.
“Wait
here, babe,” Russ suggests, pointing toward the exact spot on the floor where
he’s standing before strolling out of the room toward the back door.
Her
highness snaps her fingers twice and commands. “Get away from the goods. He may
trust a little junkie like you, but I sure as hell don’t.”
Realizing
Lourdes is speaking to me I tear my eyes away from the backdoor and look back
at her. Her dark blue eyes are narrowed in and disgust rolls through the heated
look she stabs at me.
Rich, little, overindulged, nasty
fucking bitch
.
Biting back all the comebacks rolling around in
my brain, I obey the queen just like a good peasant. Bowing my head slightly, I
slink back to my meager seating while keeping my eyes averted.
“So
you’re Rad’s newest…” She pauses and I glance up, noticing an evil smile
crossing her lips as she forces out what she decides to title me.
“Thing?”
“Yes,”
is all I say, looking back in the direction Russ has gone.
She
crosses her too thin arms over her chest and stares me down. “Well, keep your
sticky hands off the merchandise, or you will answer to me. Understand?”
My
eyes lock onto hers. A clear message is being sent that I won’t be tolerated if
I fuck up once. I nod. She twists around and strolls over toward the stacks of
cash before turning around facing me again.
“There
is only one thing you need to remember about this place and your role while
visiting.
I
am in charge. No new meat can or will control a damn thing
here. Rad may be comfortable bringing you in, but I am absolutely opposed. You
should consider yourself an unwelcome guest in
my
house.” Word sparring
with Lourdes will only get me booted out so I offer another curt nod instead.
“Good.”
She strokes a fingernail over one of the rusty barrels of a sawed off shotgun
making a sound that reminds me of nails on a chalkboard and I shudder. “I’m
glad you understand your place. Believe me when I tell you that I do not mind
getting my hands dirty.” She arches an eyebrow at me as she taps her fingernail
on the firearm.
Message received
.
Wise
strolls in through the back door carrying a large box. Decks, Russ and a couple
of minions, all salivating at the mouth, trail behind him with their own boxes.
Dropping them on floor, they pop the tops and pull out large bundles of uncut
drugs. I glance at Russ as he pulls out what looks like four, large cellophane
wrapped packages of cocaine. Shaking his head, he stifles a big shit-eating
grin before he stacks it on top of the table.
Clearly,
Lourdes is a transporter for some of their shipments. While her two small
children run around the room, carefree and happy, as little ones should be, I
fight against the growing hatred burning in the pit of my stomach watching as
their mother and uncle continue on, not caring about how fucked up this scene
is.
Nothing
would please me more than to call child protective services on this bitch’s ass
right this very minute. But doing that will shut down this shit hole for maybe
one day, just to have a new one spring up the very next. By the looks of
Mommy-dearest, she has more than enough money to buy her way out of a CPS
investigation. And probably any legal situation she could land her stupid ass
in.
“Split
it all down and move it along to your guys on the streets tonight. We have
another fairly large shipment coming in soon, but I want this shit gone first,”
Lourdes orders while the guys just nod and continue busying themselves with
unpacking. “The weed sales have been
amazing
with the possibility of
some of the states deciding to make marijuana legal soon, but the coke sales
are stalling.” She pauses to glance over at me before turning toward her
brother. “
Decks,
take Rad down to the university and
do
whatever
it takes to make sure your contact pushes the shit.”
“Yes,
mother,” Decks replies, leaning over the four additional rows of drugs.
“Fucking
college bastards moving toward this new risky drug makes no damn sense to me.
How the hell are they supposed to stay up all night and study for goddamn finals
if they’re using that shit?” She stares at me now with enough evil to burn down
heaven. “You two good looking guys should be able to find some girls
wanting
it and I expect you to
give
it to them.”
Gag!
If this bitch only knew how stupid she sounds right now, she would shut the
hell up. Taunting me with sending my “boyfriend” over to the college campus to
hook up with some girl is so damn laughable. I wish she could hear inside my
head, the cackling is deafening. However much I want to laugh in her face, I
play up my acting role with an award winning performance instead.
“Rad?”
I whine drawing more than his attention away from the
stacks of illegal narcotics. “I don’t want you going to the campus.”
Moving
toward me, Russ crosses the room with a prideful smile stamped on his face. “
Aww
Angel, you don’t have anything to worry about. My eyes
belong to you.”
Lourdes
cuts in front of him, stepping up at me glaring with an all out haughty
attitude. She’s so mad she could probably spit fire. “His eyes may belong to
you, but his ass is
mine
. You better get it through that grease soaked
head of yours now. Rad. Works.
For.
Me.” She
punctuates the last four words while poking a manicured finger near my face.
Rising
out of my chair, I face Lourdes with a fixed look portraying pure jealousy.
“His ass may belong to you in business, but he is my man!”
Lourdes
snatches my braid pulling me within an inch of her face. She flashes a look at
me with an inferno burning in her eyes and then her laugh erupts deep from her
chest…like a crazy person. “We’ll see how long that lasts. You are just Rad’s
recent acquisition.” She jerks my head sideways so hard that my shoulder slams
against the wall and pain erupts on contact, sending jolts all the way down to
my elbow. I clasp my other hand over hers still gripping my knotted hair and
snatch it away. A growl bubbles up from my chest. “Don’t get comfortable here,
bitch. You’ll be yesterday’s slut soon enough.” Believing she gets to have the
last word, she turns her back on me. Mistake!
“Yeah?”
I snap, “We’ll just see about that.” I put both
hands in the center of her back and shove with every ounce of my strength. She
stumbles forward into the massive chest of Murph, who snarls at me glancing
over Lourdes shoulder.
Thoroughly
pissed now, Lourdes thrusts off his massive hands, holding her tenderly around
the hips, twists around and breaks free, from his protective clutches. She
glares in disgust for one brief second like she can’t believe I even dare touch
Her Royal Highnesses noble garments. Irate as hell, she stomps back over to me
and then I feel the firm slap hit me across the cheek. Fuming mad doesn’t even
describe her boiling attitude now. She screeches, “Get this white trash out of
my face.”
Rushing
around her to grab my hand raised ready to strike the bitch, Russ jerks me away
from Lourdes. “Calm the fuck down Angel,” he growls. “I warned you before we
came that I won’t put up with your jealousy issues.” Playing his role well, he
turns to her with apologetic eyes and adds, “Lourdes, I’m sorry about Angel’s
outburst. I guarantee she won’t do it again.”
“For
your sake, you better get this little tramp in line, Rad, or you’re both out on
your asses,” she replies, still glaring viciously at me before yelling. “Boys,
get in the car, now!” She stomps out with Decks following behind, guiding her
sons out the door.
Russ
glances at Wise and Murph whose expressions are unhappy and challenging. I know
what’s coming next and I’m prepared for it. “You made me do this. Remember it
and learn from it,” he insists, slapping me violently with the back of his hand
across my already swelling cheek. I crumple to the floor, nursing my stinging
face and the tears begin immediately.
“Get
her out of here, Rad.” Russ nods at Wise’s instructions. “And don’t bring her
back until she’s under your full control.”
Lifting
me roughly off the ground with his large hand squeezing my upper arm, Russ
counters, “We’ll be here Friday night.”
I
would like to thank the academy for the honor of just being nominated for best
actress for my portrayal of a domineering policewoman pretending to be a
submissive druggie.