CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TILO ADAMS
I woke up in a cold sweat once again. I pushed back the heavy covers—damp with my sweat—and rushed to the bathroom. My stomach was so queasy, I felt like I was about to throw up, but nothing would come out. I felt hungry all the time but every time I tried to eat, I threw up.
“This shit is getting old,” I mumbled to my reflection. I looked like hell but I felt even worse, if that was possible. The nightmares were driving me fucking crazy. I couldn’t sleep because I felt like someone was chasing me all the time. I thought my conscience died with my former lover, but I was obviously wrong. I was disgusted with the weakness I was showing. I had dark circles under my eyes and my whole face appeared sunken in.
I pushed away from the mirror. I refused to spend another second looking at my tired reflection. I couldn’t wait for my cruise to start. I needed the fresh start so I could get my head on straight and get back to the business of making money. I was scheduled to leave in a few days for New York, and I hadn’t done a lick of shopping.
Truth be told, I was afraid to leave my hotel room. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, I felt like everyone knew who I was and was waiting for me to step out of the room to apprehend me. This kind of pressure was not good for anyone, but I was sure most of my issues were related to guilt. The people I killed before were unknowns. They weren’t a part of my everyday life. Therefore, it didn’t bother me. Someone should have schooled me on that so I could have hired someone else for the hit. I got dressed so I could do some shopping. I didn’t need much, but I needed something to go with my new look. I planned on doing my major shopping on the cruise. I grabbed my key card and purse and headed out the door. When I got to New York, I intended to hit shopper’s row and buy some banging outfits.
I was good until I reached the lobby. I broke out in a sweat when I saw all the people rushing around. I thought they all were looking for me and my heart started beating real fast. I could feel my blood rushing from my head. I was feeling faint.
“Are you all right, miss?”
I leaned against the wall. I was trying to balance my weight without appearing drunk. This was totally unexpected. The feeling unnerved me so much, I couldn’t answer right away. I stumbled over to one of the sofas in the lobby and lowered my head between my legs. I tried to control my breathing and my nerves. Slowly my heart rate became normal. I lifted my head and realized that no one except for the bellhop was paying me any attention.
“Can you get me a cab please?” I said.
“Sure, it would be my pleasure.”
I watched him go out the door to hail a cab. I should have followed him but my legs were shaking. I waited until he started waving at me before I got up and tried to make my way to the door. I was halfway to the door before my legs gave out on me and I crumpled to the floor. It wasn’t a blackout. I was totally aware of what was going on around me, but I didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. However, by the time the ambulance arrived, I had gotten a second wind.
A female paramedic said, “We just want to examine you, miss.”
“I’m fine. I told the bellhop not to dial Nine-one-one but he insistent upon doing so.” My eyes locked with the bellhop’s. If eyes could communicate, mine were begging him to corroborate my story if he wanted a good tip.
The bellhop said, “She did tell me not to call, but the hotel requires we do it for insurance purposes and for the safety of our guests.”
Thankfully, he got the message. I winked at him. He was going to get a big, fat tip.
“I understand, but since we’re here, why not let us take your blood pressure?” she said, preparing to examine me.
I wanted to choke the fuck out of this preppy bitch who just wouldn’t go away. I hated to get ugly, but I was about to show my ass for real. “If my blood pressure goes up, it will because you won’t leave me the hell alone. Now go somewhere and save someone who really needs your help.”
I wanted to end my sentence by calling her a bitch, but I held it back. However, if she came at me again with the cuff, it was on. I definitely didn’t want them to take my pressure because I hadn’t been taking my medicine. I left my medicine at the apartment, and since I was presumed dead, I couldn’t get a refill.
“Fine, we can’t force you to accept treatment, but we can advise you that refusing our assistant may have dire consequences, which we will not be held responsible for.”
I felt bad about being such a bitch, but I had no other choice.
“Rome, don’t tell me to calm down. Those idiots you are dealing with have just cost me a million dollars,” I yelled into the phone. I knew my pressure was through the roof, but I couldn’t pull back. I couldn’t stand incompetence. Since I couldn’t be seen, I was forced to allow others to handle my business for me—for a small fee of course.
“I’m just saying, we have no way of knowing how the Mexican officials learned of the new shipment. It could have been a fluke,” Rome said, sounding irritated.
“Fluke, my ass. Perhaps you don’t understand how this shit works. If I lose money, you don’t get paid.”
“Tilo—”
“Don’t call me that again—ever. The person you are referring to is dead, got it?”
“Yeah, I got it, but what do I call you?”
I thought about it for a few seconds, but since my head was hurting so badly, it was difficult to think. “Call me ... Boss. Yeah, that’s it: call me Ms. Boss. I kinda like that shit ’cause if the boss ain’t happy, nobody is happy. You feel me?”
He probably wished he could kick my ass, but he didn’t have a choice but to follow my instructions. I owned Rome. He had a gambling problem, which kept him out of the FBI. It wasn’t big enough to keep him out of civil service. At least, it wasn’t at the time he applied for a job with the Atlanta Police Department. And if I found out that he was the reason why my guns had been hood-jacked, I was going to kill his ass personally.
“Ms. Boss,” Rome stuttered, not wanting to say the words. “It’s not my fault. Everything on our end was on point. Shit got fucked up over the border somewhere,” Rome whined.
“I don’t give a flying fuck where it happened. It happened! And as a result, I don’t fucking get paid,” I shouted into the phone. If I could’ve done everything myself, I would have. But I needed to rely on Rome to do at least 95 percent of the things I asked him to do right. If his percentage dropped, so did he.
Rome was lucky I was talking to him over the phone instead of face to face, which I would have preferred because I would have shot him right between his motherfucking eyes.
“Well, I’m just saying, get my fucking guns back or be prepared for the consequences. And you might start thinking about ways to take out that mayor. He’s messing with my money and I don’t appreciate that shit.”
“But this is the second mayor we’ve handled since the election.”
“And your point would be?” I wasn’t trying to hear that shit. I was done talking to Rome. I didn’t care how he made it happen, I just wanted it to happen. I had one more call to make before I left the country.
I hung up on him and dialed another number. “Yeah, it’s me. I just got off the phone with Rome. The motherfucker is scared. I need for you to sell that stupid ass the same shit you took from him but double the price.”
“He can’t afford it.”
“You idiot, tell me something I don’t know. I need that nigga dirty.”
“Okay, all right then.”
“Wait a week and leak another story saying the guns were jacked. This gets Obama and his administration off my ass and you move up again. You feel me? Obama’s team will think they are doing a good job and move their nosey asses out of Mexico so we continue to get rich.” I was feeling pretty good because everything seemed to be going as planned.
“What about the kidnappings?” my anonymous malefactor said.
“Damn, man, do I have to tell you everything? You’ve got to keep things poppin’, keep the violence spread out. Don’t do too much in any one area or we’ll have more attention than a little bit. Get creative. Do something to surprise me for a change. Shit! If I have to tell you how to do everything, what do I need you for?” I slammed down the phone. “I ain’t trying to change the name of the game, I’m just trying to be the winner.” I rolled over for a few hours to get some much needed rest. When I woke up, I promised to try, once again, to eat something and hold it down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
MOSES RAMSEY
My stomach was filled with butterflies. I’d never been so nervous in my entire life. I didn’t know what scared me most: the fact that I’d actually fathered a child or Verónica’s reaction when she found out I had a paternity test done without her knowledge.
Mom and Dad were excited about meeting their first grandchild and my wife. I was still trying to digest the fact that LM was actually my son. Part of me was beaming with pride, and the other half hated the way I treated him when he was born. I despised myself for allowing Tilo to fill my head with nonsense that almost made me kill his mother. This made finding Tilo a number one priority because I could not ever let it be known what I’d planned to do.
Verónica loved Olive Garden, so I went by to pick up something for dinner for all of us. I happily paid the bill and rushed home to make sure that everything was perfect. On a whim, I stopped by the liquor store and bought some wine and their best champagne. I was in the mood to celebrate. To my knowledge, Verónica still thought LM was Mike’s baby, but my plan was to reveal it to her tonight. I hoped that by showing her my baby pictures she’d be convinced of his parentage.
For me, I had a newfound commitment to the love I had for Verónica. I wanted and needed for us to grow as a family. Tonight I was going to tell her that. The fact that my mother and father would be there to witness it was a bonus because at least they would be convinced I wasn’t gay. Being a black man living in Atlanta wasn’t easy. Every woman assumed I was gay. I was tired of defending my manhood. My wife would walk through the door any minute and validate me.
I quickly set up the table with candles and flowers after I called Verónica to make sure she was on the way. Mom and Dad were resting in the guest room and eager to meet their first and only grandchild. As I lit the last candle my mother came down the stairs.
“Sweetie, do you need any help?”
“Mom, I thought I told you to get some rest.” I wasn’t surprised she didn’t pay me any attention. Hell, my dad had been complaining about her being hardheaded for years.
“Who can rest at a time like this? Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment? Your father and I aren’t getting any younger. Well, your father is getting older, I’m just getting better.”
I couldn’t hold back the laughter. My mother was a piece of work.
“Mom, you haven’t changed one bit.”
“Why should I mess with perfection?”
We laughed again.
“Is Dad still resting?” I was fussing with the table settings because I was nervous. I wanted my parents to love Verónica the way I did. I had a lot of making up to do with her, and I planned to start tonight. I never wanted her to know I’d planned on killing her and running off with Tilo. My hand tightened around the stem of the glass that I was holding. I still had a hard-on for that bitch and couldn’t wait to get my hands on her skinny neck.
“He’s snoring, so I guess you could say he’s resting. I don’t understand how he can sleep with all the racket he’s making.”
“You love it because you’ve been sleeping with the racket for over fifty years.”
It was her turn to chuckle now. “Boy, get away from the table and sit down somewhere. I don’t know why you didn’t let me cook.”
I pulled out a chair at the kitchen counter and sat down. “I couldn’t ask you to fly here and then put you to work as soon as you got here.”
“Shoot, I got to eat too.”
She had a point but I wanted to do all of this myself. I wanted everything to be perfect when my wife came in. I even went out and upgraded her wedding ring. We fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Mom said, “So tell me about your wife, not that stuff you told your father. I want to know what made her special to you?”
“That’s a long story, but the short version is that she used to work for me and we fell in love. She has a beautiful spirit, Mom. Please give her a chance,” I pleaded.
“Son, she is the mother of my grandson. She already has cool points with me. Try to relax. Everything is going to be okay.”
I wished that I could feel as confident as she did, but she didn’t know all the details of my relationship with Verónica. I loved my mother, but I couldn’t share my deep deception with her.
“What is it, son? You looked troubled.” Worry lines were etched on my mother’s forehead.
“It’s nothing. I just wish they would get here.” I looked at my watch. It had been forty-five minutes since I’d talked to Verónica and I was getting antsy.
“I think you need to have a glass of the wine you bought. While you’re at it, pour me one too.”
She was right; I was wound tighter than a drum. I went over and grabbed two glasses off the dining room table and poured some wine into both glasses. I handed one to my mother and we clicked together in a toast. “To the good life,” I whispered.