Deliver Me From Evil (10 page)

“W
oman, don't you flip out on us now. We got work for you to do.”

“Huh?” I felt a hand on my shoulder and somebody's hot breath on my face. I shook my head and struggled to bring the rest of my body back to 2007. “Wade, when did you get back?” I asked. I was still on the bed in the tacky motel room. Wade hovered over me, with his arms held open, like a bear about to crush me to death.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd spent so much time reminiscing about my past. But now it was something that took over my thoughts whether I wanted it to or not.

“Me and Jason have been standing here talking to you for five minutes. For that whole time, you've been just sitting here looking like a zombie. I know all you can think about right now is that half a million fucking dollars we got coming, because that's all I can think about myself,” Wade told me in an excited voice, talking so fast he had to stop to catch his breath. He leaned back on his heels and folded his arms, giving me a critical look, and I didn't like that. It made me nervous. “But you need to stay focused, baby. There's too much money at stake for you to be spacing out on us.”

Another thing that made me nervous was the fact that Wade had shifted most of his affection from me to the money ever since he had made that first telephone call to my husband.

“And, you look like hell with them red, swollen eyes,” Jason, whose eyes looked like shooting stars, had the nerve to add. “I say, we take a few more pictures of you looking like that.”

“I was just sitting here thinking, that's all,” I mumbled, rubbing my arm.

“You sure was,” Wade clucked, tossing a plastic bag at me. You didn't even hear us come in this door. Anyway, I got you some Right Guard, some toothpaste, and some gum from Walgreen's.”

“Did you bring me some clean underwear?” I asked, patting the plastic bag.

“I said Walgreen's, not Victoria's Secret. The closest thing Walgreen's got to women's panties is them adult diapers,” Wade said, then guffawed.

“I need some clean underwear, Wade,” I insisted.

Wade stopped laughing and gave me an impatient and exasperated look. Something he'd been doing a lot of lately. “We'll swing by Target after we make that call,” Wade told me. “Look, I think we are making some real progress. My man seen them pictures, and that shook his ass up like a milk shake.”

“Jesse Ray saw the pictures of me tied up and blindfolded? How did you get the pictures to him?” I gasped, rising from the bed.

“Jason got one of his boys, a homeless dude, to deliver. When homeboy came back to the coffee shop where we was waiting at, he said old Jesse Ray looked like he seen a ghost when he opened that envelope. He got so upset, he broke down and cried like a bitch. I had to see that with my own eyes. I ducked into his store, and sure enough, he looked like a lost man.”

“He saw you? You let him see your face? How stupid can you get, Wade? What if this thing falls apart?”

“Well, as long as he don't know me from Moses, we ain't got nothing to worry about.”

“He's seen you before.”

“A lot of people have seen me before. That don't mean shit. As far as he knew, I was just another customer in his video store.” Wade gave me a dry look and shook his head. “Baby, you need to get a grip and let me and my boy handle this thing. You've done your part. Now all you gots to do is just sit back and let things fall into place.”

I looked at Wade's face. I saw eyes that now looked like they belonged on a madman. And, the more we talked about the tax-free fortune he had coming to him, the more desperate he looked. “Did you call him yet?”

Wade fired up a joint and took a long drag before he answered. “Woman, how many times do I have to tell you that
you
need to talk to him again? Put on them sunglasses, and let's take a little trip down to a pay phone. And one far away from here. We can't take no chance on none of them busy hoes overhearing nothing, or seeing you and me together and getting nosy.”

Jason had borrowed one of his lady friend's battered old Honda Civic. He did the driving as we rode around for about twenty minutes, looking for a pay phone where there was not that much traffic. I was hunched down in the backseat with Wade. He had his arm around my neck, holding on to me like he was afraid I might leap out of the car.

That thought
had
entered my mind.

“Now, when you talk to this rich-ass nigger, don't forget—you need to sound
real
desperate. We need to get this thing situated here so we can make some real plans. Shit,” Wade said as soon as the car stopped.

He led me by the hand like I was a blind woman to a pay phone at the corner, near a deserted building on Telegraph. There was a funeral home across the street. “Shit,” Wade grunted when he saw the mortuary's sign and a big black hearse parked on the street. “I need for you to make this conversation short and sweet. This is some bad Karma around here. This place gives me the creeps,” he said, releasing my hand.

He fished a few coins out of his pants pocket, counted, and cursed under his breath. “Baby, give me a quarter,” he ordered. I didn't say a word as I rooted around in my purse and found some loose coins and handed them all to him. He dropped what he needed to into the pay-phone slot and then slid the rest into his pants pocket. With the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Wade dialed my husband's number. He screwed up his face and held his breath like he was about to deliver the performance of a lifetime. And I guess he was.

He cupped the receiver in his hand as he spoke in a low voice, which he didn't do too good of a job disguising. “Listen carefully. Don't try to trace this call, and don't say nothing stupid. Are you alone? Good! Did you see them pictures of your wife we took? Good! Uh-huh. Yeah, man, she is still alive and kicking. Now how long she's going to remain alive and kicking is up to you, my man.”

Wade made a face at the telephone like he wanted to break into it. But, instead, he handed it to me. Then he did a strange thing. He pressed his finger against my forehead, like it was the barrel of a gun, and made a clicking noise with his tongue. I didn't know whose benefit that ominous little gesture was for. It meant nothing to me, and Jesse Ray couldn't see it. But I still didn't like it. I snatched the telephone and turned my back to Wade.

“Honey … honey, it's me.” I threw in a few sniffles before I started crying. “Hon … honey … I want to come home,” I sobbed, a real lump rising in my throat. I was amazed that I was able to squeeze out some real tears.

“Oh my God, Christine! Oh my God!” In all the years that I'd known Jesse Ray, this was the first time I'd heard him cry.

I stopped crying, and I let a few moments of silence pass before I responded. “J.R., they … they are going to kill me if you don't pay them the money.”

“Aarrrggghhhh!”

“J.R., please stop crying. I love you, and I want to be back with you. Please pay them the money so I can come home,” I pleaded. Wade gestured for me to do some more boo-hooing myself. “Honey, they said they were going to rape me first,” I sobbed, but I was not as hysterical as Jesse Ray was. “And please don't call the police! They've got a gun! I don't want to
die!
” I wailed.

“Baby, listen to me! You be strong.” Jesse Ray sounded like he was choking on his own words. “We are going to get through this thing, and everything is going to be all right. I swear to God it is!” he vowed.

“You … you are going to pay them the money then?” I asked. “They … they are getting real mad.”

“Put whoever's in charge back on the phone! Put him back on the telephone right now!” Jesse Ray commanded. “I want to end this shit right now!”

I handed the telephone back to Wade.

“Yeah,” Wade said, with a grunt. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Huh?” he gave me a stunned look and held the telephone away from his face. A look that included a mysterious smile crossed his face as he cleared his throat and prepared to speak into the receiver again. I glanced at Jason, who was standing next to the car, with a look on his face that was so smug, it looked like it had been painted on. It didn't take long for his expression to change. He gave me a cold look and pointed to his watch. I held my arm up to Wade and tapped my watch. He responded by holding up his hand in my face. “Now listen, my man. I want you to repeat what you just told me to your little wife here,” Wade said, then put the telephone up to my ear.

“J.R., it's me, baby,” I mumbled, my voice sounding as weak as a newborn kitten's.

“Christine, honey. I can't stand this. I love you; I love you; I love you. I told him if he turns you loose
unharmed,
I'd give him
double
what he's asking for. And, that means he can't rape you or even touch you in the wrong place. Has he already—”

“No, I haven't been raped or touched or anything … yet,” I croaked.

“And … and I told him I'd give it to him today if I could, but I need time to work this out with my banker. Please be strong, baby. We are going to get through this all right!”

“J.R., did I hear you right? You told him you'd give him a million dollars?” I mouthed, sounding stronger than I should have. I realized that immediately. “A …
million
… dollars?” I asked, speaking in a weak voice again. I got so light-headed, I stumbled. Wade threw his arms around my waist just in time to keep me from falling to the ground.

“They can have every dime I got if they want it. I just want this thing to be over with. I swear to God, I will make this up to you. We'll go off somewhere so you can relax and put this behind you!”

“I … I want to come home, honey. I don't care what you have to do for them to let me go.” I handed the phone back to Wade. He had such a satisfied look on his face, you would have thought that he'd won the lottery. And, in a way, that was exactly the case.

But I had one immediate concern: now that Jesse Ray was going to pay double what I'd expected, how much of an increase was Wade going to expect?

“Ten o'clock,” Wade said, looking at the cheap watch on his wrist. “I will call you at ten o'clock sharp on Friday morning at the same number. If you got my money, I'll tell you where to drop it off. Once I get it, I'll call you exactly one hour from the pickup time and tell you where you can pick up your woman. Don't try nothing cute! Don't try to punk me with no money that can be traced or nothing like that. I want used bills, all hundreds, fifties, and twenties. Don't even think about involving the cops … I know where everybody in your family lives. Any questions?”

“No,” Jesse Ray muttered.

“Now you have a nice day, brother. And look on the bright side. I don't care what you pay out. You'll still have enough bling to keep living like a king. You ain't never going to be as broke as some of us.”

I gave Wade a sharp look and gestured for him to hang up.

He finally hung up and looked at me long and hard. “Girl, you sure you want to leave this goose? I didn't know it was going to be this easy to get him to pay us. If I was you, I'd stick to this nigger like white on rice. He got insurance?”

“Yes, he's got all kinds of insurance,” I stated. “That precious main store is insured up the wazoo. Fire, earthquake, theft, vandalism.”

“I am not talking about that kind of insurance,” Wade said, waving his hand. “I'm talking about
life
insurance.”

He looked away when I looked at him, with my mouth hanging open. “We take what he's offering. Nothing more,” I said in an angry voice.

“All I asked is whether or not he got insurance,” Wade said, with a pout. “I'm just curious.”

“Jesse Ray's well insured,” I said. “But if you're thinking about doing something to him so you can get your hands on that insurance money, too, you can get that out of your thick head right now. I would never hurt Jesse Ray for money.”

Wade and Jason looked at each other and snickered.

“You don't want to hurt the brother? Well, baby, I got news for you. I think it's a little bit too late to start worrying about hurting old J. R. Thurman,” said Wade. He laughed again and winked at me. “Girl, if punking a black man out of a million dollars ain't going to hurt him, I don't know what will.”

 

“Fuck me! A whole one million fucking dollars? Shit, I ain't never even seen more than a few hundred at a time in my whole life! I … I wonder what the fuck a million goddamn dollars look like stacked up all nice and neat? Shit!” Jason could barely contain himself in the car on the way back to the motel. No matter how I looked at it, the fact that this man was part of my plan made me extremely uncomfortable. “And tax free at that!”

“One million dollars. Uh-huh. That's what the man said,” Wade shrieked, slapping his knee. “Ooh wee!” His involvement was beginning to disturb me, too. “Looks like Christmas is coming early this year. Thank God I've been a gooood boy.”

I was in the backseat, alone this time, huddled in a corner, with the baseball cap still hiding my hair and the sunglasses hiding my eyes. I was glad that I was in disguise. I was glad that nobody could see the concern on my face or know what was going through my head. This new development gave me even more to worry about.

Traffic was heavy, and there were a lot of people on the street. Even though I was disguised, I was afraid that someone I knew would see me hunched down in the backseat of the car and would recognize me, anyway. I knew that that was unlikely, but I didn't want to take any chances. I had taken enough already. I hunched down some more, so low that I was practically lying on the seat.

When we stopped at a red light on Alcatraz, not far from my husband's video store, I slid down even farther in my seat. I almost shit my pants when somebody ran up to the car and tapped on the window. I closed my eyes and held my breath.