Read Sugar Doll's Hurricane Blues Online
Authors: Kalua Lauber
Sugar Doll's Hurricane Blues
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons-living or dead-is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 2010 Kalua Lauber
All rights reserved.ISBN: 1449998488
ISBN-13: 9781449998486
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61916-298-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010900014
Contents
I
MUST FIRST THANK MY
husband Celso Lauber. You have been my best audience. Thank you so much for listening to every chapter and plot change with such support and enthusiasm. I love you and our son Celsinho (Little Celso) very much. You are my best friend.
Thank you Gerardo Cervantes for lending me your expertise in writing and grammar. Your honest feedback helped me to revise things that I would not have caught myself. You are a great mentor and a wonderful friend.
I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my lovely mother Essie Lee Brown. You always stood up for me and believed in me and I love you.
My deepest gratitude belongs to Angela Fogel who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. You have shown me the type of friendship which transcends family. You are for me as your name implies an angel. I thank you for all of your help and support from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you so much to my editor Heidi Arroyave. Your professionalism and attention to detail were spectacular. I enjoyed the process much more with your help.
The person who inspired me the most in my life and is the love of my life is my grandmother Rose Lee Hughes. She died
before the terrible events of Hurricane Katrina and for that I thank God that she did not see the destruction of her beloved home. She is gone but never will she be forgotten. I dedicate this book to her.
“The Lord is my light and
salvation; whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength
of my life; of whom
shall I be afraid?”
Psalm 27; 1
Revelers hanging over the black wrought iron balconies looked like bats in rafters and those clogging the streets were no better. Karl shoved his way just as much as he was being shoved and pushed back and then ducked reflexively when the champagne cork popped next to him, and the fat lady with the bottle in her hand sloshed some onto his shoe as he tried to wriggle past her. Karl wondered if 1984 would be any better than ’83 had been. He sure hoped so. After all, he’d lost his job this year, and then it all seemed to go downhill from there. A jazz band began cueing up and so he craned his neck to see if he knew any of the players. Was Charlie there? He always hung out on this corner at night. But the trio didn’t look familiar-must be one of them that come in from Mississippi to make money for the night. New Year’s Eve brought just about everyone to New Orleans, and the cheap booze that flowed like dirty water helped to open their wallets. Wide.
Karl approached the darkened alleyway with only a moment’s hesitation. He elbowed his way through the crush of people. He had managed to be invisible amongst the partygoers so much so that no one commented on his being there. The exclusive club was just ahead of him. Two large white men approached him. Karl moved closer to the wall smelling the
urine. The bolder of the men stepped forward and grabbed Karl by the collar, “Happy New Years nigger!” and then undaunted by Karl’s blank expression he stumbled away laughing.
Karl smiled to himself. “It’s sure gonna be.” He whispered under his breath.
Karl walked up the two short steps to the door. He made five quick taps on the door. He looked into the small square hole. Slowly the little window slide open revealing two bulging green eyes.
“Hey, what you want?” A voice behind the door asked.
“I got a message for Marsalas.” Karl said with as much authority as he could muster.
“Marsalas don’t take no messages.” Said the voice.
“Oh yeah, so I heard, but I believe he’ll take this one.” Karl responded steeling his voice. “Tell him Karl out here knows who been taking over his territory. Tell him that Karl got more than enough information from the man himself.”
“Boy, since it’s New Year’s Eve I’m going to give you a head start, but if you don’t start running now it’s going to be your black ass. Now get!” The voice sounded slightly amused, but the eyes were watching Karl seriously.
“Man would I risk my life if I didn’t think I had valuable information? Do yourself a favor and get me Marsalas.” Karl stood taller looking at the eyes behind the small window directly.
The doorman waved to one of his cronies in the hallway. “Man come see this shit! This nigger outside must be drunk!” He laughed gleefully. His friend walked out to the door and looked out of the small window to get a glimpse of the boy.
“C’mon man, let’s kick us some nigger butt tonight. I already gave him a warning.” The doorman nudged his friend
who stood silently gazing out at the young man who didn’t look like he was drunk at all. Tony was the manager of the place and found himself removed from the petty antics of his employee. His startling blue eyes conveyed a seriousness that matched his handsome demeanor and classy style. His dark slicked back hair glimmered in the light that shafted through the tiny window.
“Hey boy! This ain’t no gym, go on and take your exercise somewhere else.” The doorman let out a guffaw. Tony slapped his shoulder and they both shared a laugh.
“I got a message for Marsalas. It’s big boss.” Karl leaned forward toward the hole looking directly into the blue eyes that were looking out at him. He was determined not to be deterred by the little “white man jokes” that he heard on a daily basis.
“Boy, Marsalas doesn’t take messages.” Tony said dryly.
“That’s exactly what I just told him.” The doorman nudged Tony in recognition.
“Go on now, get! I don’t want to have to mess up my tux.”
“Tony, you do look nice.” The doorman appraised him.
“Well, you tell Marsalas that Karl here tried to warn him about his territory being took over and about the hit Turner got out for him.” Karl stood his ground.
Tony and the doorman both regarded each other seriously for the first time. Tony opened the door and the doorman grabbed the lanky Karl as though he were just a rag doll. Karl didn’t put up a fight. Tony looked into Karl’s face and saw how young he was. His dark skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The doorman dragged Karl roughly down the hallway. Karl didn’t appear to be afraid under the massive older man’s weight. Tony walked alongside them unruffled.
“Son, you are saying some serious shit! Don’t you know any better?”
“I sure do know better man, but I’m a business man. I know what I’m saying is for real.”
“A business man? Hell, you ain’t nothing but a kid. So tell me Captain Courageous what is your message to Marsalas? Tony’s eyes flashed bright with anger.
“I want to see the man himself!” Karl straightened up out of the doorman’s grip.
“Kid, you don’t have any wants.” Tony replied snidely.
“Tell Marsalas that I was a runner in his first club a few years ago. Tell him I’m Karl Bouvier.”
Tony looked at the doorman who had regained a tight grip on Karl.”
“Hold his ass here!” Tony walked down the long hallway and entered a different world. The New Years Eve party was in full swing. People were dancing, laughing, colliding into each other. The theme was definitively black and white tux and evening gowns. Tony crossed the dance floor between couples. He glanced quickly around for any troublemakers but as rowdy as the crowd was, it was rather peaceful. The kid seemed too unruffled to be just pulling a prank. He thought about the serious things the kid were saying and knew that it had a ring of truth to it. “Fucking Turner…” Tony muttered to himself as he waded through the crowd.
A beautiful blond on the staircase tugged at his arm suggestively as he walked by her. He remembered that he was a playboy and it was New Years Eve after all. “Not right now baby.” He smiled handsomely at her. He started to ascend the staircase next to the dance floor but thought better of it and walked back down a few steps to the blond, cupped her face and
kissed her softly. “Wait for me. Later tonight I’ll make it up to you.” The woman brightened as Tony turned away from her. He returned to the stairs and made his way toward Marsalas’s personal quarters. This time he did not look back as a feeling of dread returned. He approached the room at the top of the stairs. When he opened the door it was a distinctly separate environment from the revelers. The room was sober and dark, only lit by a single overhead shaded lamp.
There were four men sitting around a poker table. He quickly scanned their faces but none of them were Marsalas. Two bodyguards got up when Tony approached a curtained booth. They recognized Tony and sat down on both sides of the booth. The curtain was partially opened and a single stream of smoke flowed out of it. Tony saw the familiar glass of Scotch on the table and the graceful hand holding it. He entered the booth comfortably.