Frostbite (15 page)
Authors: Eric Pete
24
I tapped once on his forehead. Then again for good measure. Held a hot cup of Café du Monde’s café au lait for him as his senses returned, leg still dangling off the bed. Room was a mess. But at least he made it back from Fancy’s.
“How’d you get in here?” Ivan groaned from under the comforter that halfway covered him.
“It’s my room,” I said, flashing the extra key card to remind him.
As he sat up, he grabbed his head. Groaned as he closed his eyes. Then he slowly reopened them, probably hoping I’d disappeared.
No such luck.
“Bro, furreal? I’ve only had about two hours sleep.”
I handed the café au lait to him. “Two hours more than me,” I said.
Mizz NewOrleanz was still unconscious in the bed, size D breast implants on full display. A little white powdery residue rested on the corner of her nose as she lay there engaged in an open-mouthed snore. I shook my head at the chainsaw-like sounds she was putting out. Couldn’t he put his dick in her mouth to shut her up?
“Playtime is over. Get some clothes on, get rid of your girlfriend, and meet me downstairs,” I instructed.
I was seated in a leather chair in the Living Room of the W, reading a copy of the
Times-Picayune,
when Ivan finally made his way down. Had a view of most of the first floor including the check-in desk. Two ladies looking over a tourist map, paused to check him out as he walked by.
Times-Picayune,
when Ivan finally made his way down. Had a view of most of the first floor including the check-in desk. Two ladies looking over a tourist map, paused to check him out as he walked by.
Models.
Wondered if they’d still ogle him if they knew all the things he’d done.
And what he was about to do.
Ivan walked up to my secluded spot, adorned in sunglasses and one of those busy shirts again, and swatted at my paper. “What the fuck, bro. Why’d you leave me last night?” he gruffly asked.
“Because something came up,” I responded without looking up from my reading. “Didn’t want to cock block you. Besides, you’re resourceful and I knew you’d find someone to get you back here.”
“Finally ready to do this? Or was it all a joke?”
“Nope, I was serious. And yep, it’s time.”
“Now let’s get down to business,” Ivan said as he took a seat to my immediate right and crouched over. “What is my cut anyway? To go away so you can have Sophia all to yourself?”
“Two hundred grand,” I said, ignoring his dig about Sophia. My phone buzzed just as I lied about the money. Was a text from Sophia. Wondering if I knew of Ivan’s whereabouts. I texted back that I didn’t and good riddance.
“Who’s gotta get got?” he asked as I deleted the message from his girlfriend.
I flipped the paper around that I’d been reading and dropped it on the table in front of him.
“You got the heart for it?” I asked as he looked at a photo of DA Rodney Roy and the accompanying article on the Braxton Lewis trial titled DA ROY PUSHES FORWARD.
“Him? The fuckin’ DA?”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down,” I reminded him as a child came a little too close to us.
“You said it was a lawyer,” Ivan groused as he flipped the newspaper back at me.
“He
is
a lawyer, dumbass,” I uttered, not bothering to hide my true feelings.
is
a lawyer, dumbass,” I uttered, not bothering to hide my true feelings.
“Who wants him gone?”
“Can’t say. You know better.”
“Job like that, probably makes a bunch of enemies. This one has money.”
“Appears so.”
“And you okay with it?”
“Yup,” I said, lying. “Are you?”
“Yeah ... I guess so.”
“Well let’s take a walk, bro,” I said as I stood up.
We rode the Algiers Ferry, having boarded at the foot of Canal Street by the Aquarium of the Americas.
“He lives on this side of the river, the West Bank. You need to learn this ferry inside and out, so you can blend in,” I said to Ivan as I looked over the railing at the murky waters of the Mississippi swirling below. “Leaves from downtown at fifteen and forty-five past the hour. Leaves from Algiers on the hour and thirty past.”
“The DA takes the ferry?”
“He will tomorrow,” I replied, training my eyes on the Crescent City Connection casting a shadow on the water.
“But tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“He’ll be going in,” I said as I thought about the trial scheduled to begin Monday. “You just be ready. I’ll call you when to expect him.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to use? Knife? Gun? My looks?”
“Gun with a silencer. Head shot. There will be a distraction. Just walk up ... pop ... then drop it overboard,” I recited, pointing at the churning wake.
“Out in the open? Damn. Why not at his crib or his office?” Ivan pleaded.
“Security details at both. Inviting trouble,” I commented. “Has to be en route.”
“And how am I gonna get away? Magic carpet?”
“You walk away. Two uniforms. One as a ferry worker. The other as NOPD when you leave the boat. Will have a final change waiting for you in the bathroom of the Hilton New Orleans Riverside. Then there will be a cab waiting for you on Canal Street to drive you to Baton Rouge,” I said as I walked around, discretely inspecting the ferry and getting a feel what the situation might be like when everything went down. “You’ll just have to change really quick. Like at a fashion show. You’ve done some acting too before, right?”
“Yeah. Commercials ’n’ stuff... before I went away.”
“Figured. That’s good. Same thing here. Except you’ll be two hundred grand richer.”
“Y’know ... I’ve been thinking about things, bro,” he said, making me cringe. Wanted to push him over the rail and put an immediate end to his shit.
“And?” I asked, regretting my indulgence instantly.
“And I want half my money up front.” Greedy bastard.
“That kind of money in this town is a bad thing,” I offered up.
“I wasn’t asking,” Ivan remarked with a smirk.
“Your coke-to-stripper ratio is already too high,” I chided dismissively.
“I got that under control,” he said, frown evident across his face.
“You mean like in Cali when you told me you were clean?”
“Look. No money, no job. I’m the one taking all the risk.”
“You’re right. Forgive me. I’m being a dick because I’m under a lot of stress,” I said, gloating inside knowing Ivan wouldn’t be walking away as cleanly as I’d conveyed. “You’ll have the half upfront by tonight.”
I patted Ivan on the shoulder for good measure, him not knowing there was another set of eyes on us.
A gentleman on the upper level who tipped his hat in response to my signal.
25
“You couldn’t pick up the phone and call me, Truth?” Sophia squawked.
“I’m kinda on a job,” I said as I sped down Magazine Street in my rental, Bluetooth resting in my ear.
“That government thing?” she mumbled, voice dropping an octave.
“Yeah. The one I’m stuck doing because I got caught springing you,” I reminded her.
“Dang. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all good.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“You know better,” I replied, dodging her question the same as I did a large moving truck that trying to back up just then. Bluetooth almost fell off my ear. “Just know that I’m alive. Still.”
“You sure you don’t know where Ivan is?” Sophia pressed.
“Didn’t I text you that already? Sheesh. Count your blessings that he moved on,” I said as I came to a red light at Jackson Avenue next to the Shell station. I stopped, checking my rearview mirror out of habit.
“Truth ... you didn’t kill him, did you?”
“No,” I answered truthfully, having left Ivan back at the W with his firearm and more money than he deserved. “Paranoia doesn’t suit you. Unless something’s making you paranoid.”
“What the fuck are you getting at?”
“Just what I said. Something have you a little edgier than usual?”
“Don’t be riddling me, Truth. Spit it out.”
“Are you high? Are you on that shit again? Clear enough for you?” I yelled, glad no one outside the car could hear me.
“Is that what this is about? You’re punishing me by taking away Ivan?”
“I ain’t your daddy. But I am concerned about you. And just how am I supposed to spirit someone away? You’re acting like I’m all-powerful or something. If Ivan chose to flake out, that’s your problem. Not mine. Maybe you should go check a crack house for him, but let me handle my motherfuckin’ business.”
Sophia hung up without even so much as a good-bye.
Wouldn’t understand or appreciate the huge favor I was doing her anyway.
But I had an unexpected appointment to keep, so I kept it moving.
Parked around the corner from the Crescent City Dance Company and walked the rest of the way. Didn’t really have time to change into what Taralynn was accustomed to seeing me wear, but left the sport coat in the Mazda. Still, was happy to let her see my
potential.
potential.
“Sir, may I help you?” a thin, blond twenty-something asked as I entered. She was dressed in all-black dancewear and seemed startled by a brother waltzing in from off the street. Can’t say I was that comfortable in this place myself, but ...
“Uh ... yeah. I’m here for—”
“It’s okay. He’s family, Samantha,” Taralynn said as she walked over from the company of the other moms and grandmothers with whom she’d been conversing. Samantha’s demeanor immediately changed, going from hard and sharp to soft and mushy as she gracefully stepped aside.
“Yeah. What she said,” I smugly reaffirmed to the gangly guardian as Taralynn greeted me with an embrace. Had a message that she was looking for me, telling me to stop by here if I wasn’t too busy. This was going to be my last time seeing her ever so, with all arrangements set for tomorrow, I made my schedule fit.
“Well, don’t you look nice,” she said glowingly of my dress shirt and slacks. For a Saturday afternoon, she was still polished as ever—a draped, sleeveless black tunic and jeans with little black lace-up ankle boots.
“When I got the invite, figured I’d make myself more presentable,” I offered. Better than saying I was busy planning out the murder of her husband and ran right over.
“You did that, boy. Got the other moms checking you out,” she teased as her friends whispered among themselves while trying to observe their daughters through the glass viewing window. “I said you’re my cousin. Want me to introduce you to them?”
“Uh ... no. I’m good,” I said with a polite smile to dull the antisocial message. “Not looking for a love connection.”
“Uh huh. Knew you had someone ... or someones,” Taralynn said with an elbow to my side. “And when you clean up like this, you probably have your pick of the litter. Now see ... when I imagined how you’d turn out,
this
is how I pictured you.”
this
is how I pictured you.”
“You called me over here to try to make me blush? Damn.”
“Nah. Here for final rehearsal before my baby’s Boston trip. They’ll be performing
Swan Lake
at the Citi Performing Arts Center. But since you live nearby, I wanted to see you again. Share a little bit more about my life these days.”
Swan Lake
at the Citi Performing Arts Center. But since you live nearby, I wanted to see you again. Share a little bit more about my life these days.”
“That was nice of you,” I said, torn over a dirty job now moving into the realm of sheer betrayal.
“Hey. Sharing means caring,” she joked with a wink.
Taralynn led me to the viewing window where we stood on one end, watching a rainbow of young ballerinas, all with their hair in buns, going through different stages of technique, stretching, and choreography. The other ladies were still waiting for an introduction from Mrs. Rodney Roy that never came. As rude as it was, way too many people in this town had seen my true face, so no need becoming familiar with my true voice too.
“That’s Sasha, there,” Taralynn said softly as she tapped a manicured fingernail tip to the glass, pointing to her daughter, whom I’d already recognized from the day I was following them.
“Damn,” I whispered. Still tall for her age, the nine-year-old elevated and dropped repeatedly on her tippy toes as her instructor circled. Like some hungry jungle cat mouthing something at Sasha that we couldn’t hear. Shit looked painful, but she made it look easy. Effortless as she maintained her focus, face stoic and showing serious professionalism for someone of her age. Ignoring the dozen or so people watching her every move from behind the glass. The girl was clearly the star pupil of the Crescent City Dance Company. Out the corner of my eye, I saw her proud momma beaming as she should. “How long has she been doing this?” I asked Taralynn.
“Since she was three,” she replied. “Don’t know where all her grace came from. But she’s got it. Talking about her doing a solo routine in Boston as well.”
“Successful spouse. Beautiful, talented daughter. Sounds like you have the perfect family,” I said, looking more at my reflection in the window than what was behind it. Wondered if I weren’t damaged goods, might I have had a family like this.
“It’s ain’t so bad. I’ll admit I’ve been blessed,” she said, sunshine in her voice as she casually rubbed my back.
“So what’s your schedule for tomorrow?” I asked as her hand still lingered. Wanted her to think it was about her when it was really about intel. Any extra bit of information that maybe I hadn’t factored into my plans. Like if Taralynn and her daughter suddenly decided to accompany Daddy to work tomorrow.
Sun Tzu once said, “Only when you know every detail of the lay of the land can you maneuver and contend.”
“We fly out tomorrow evening,” Taralynn answered, looking away from the window to answer me eye to eye. “Staying away the whole week. For the best with Rodney’s big trial taking place. It usually consumes all his time, so I like to get away with Sasha to let him focus.”
“Uh huh,” I said, nodding. Thinking about how it is with ambitious people who neglect their spouses. But I didn’t know if this was the case with the Roys. How could I?
“You really should meet him, Truth,” she said awkwardly, turning her focus back to her daughter. “Maybe we can have you over when all this dies down.”
“I’d like that,” I said, displaying my war mask.
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