The Heart of Revenge (26 page)

Finally, she realised where she was, or that
she had a client infront of her, processed a stiff smile again,
held up her index finger to me, as her lips mimed ‘One minute’. She
switched over her weight from one leg to the other, switched over
again, glanced up at me,

“Coming, ok ... Just one minute.” I was
impatient and wanted to grab the phone from her and scream at Mr.
Douglas to get the fuck out here now. She listened in and stopped
chewing her gum as the information from the other end of the phone
arrived at her ears. She nodded her head, nodded again, then
replied,

“Ok.” She hung up and her hand still held on
to the phone on the desk. “I’m sorry Ms. Lexi, Lexings right?” I
didn't answer her bullshit question. She continued, “Mr. Douglas is
not here.”

She swept her hand behind her skirt as she
lowered herself to her chair. Took up her stuffed accordion folder
and rested it into her lap. Began treading two fingers across the
slots of the folder in concentration. Finished with me. Stopped
midway the folder, dragged the slot open wider and her busy fingers
began skipping through the invoices between the slot.

“Not here? NOT HERE? Don’t let mi get dark in
here. Think mi stupid or something?” Her face went slack and mouth
O. “Isn’t that his van in the parking lot? Tell him I’m here or
else it won’t be pretty in here today. Get that?”

Her fingers stopped moving. Her voice was
slim,

“Yes ... But he drove is other vehicle
home.”

“Right! Alright then.” I didn’t waste any
more time with the nincompoop. I charged off from infront her desk
and stormed down the cream corridor. The receptionist sprang out
her chair, the accordion fell. Landed on the switchboard. Papers,
invoices and cheques spilled all over the switchboard. Slid to the
floor, scattering. The receptionist yelled,

“No. Ms. Lexings. You can’t go in!” I sped up
down the corridor to the door. “Miss! MISS! MISS!” I didn’t look
around, I knew the jerk was in there. That cunt! “You CAN’T.” That
damn conscienceless cunt! “SECURITY! SECURITY!”

Reached the glass door. Pushed the steel bar
to enter. Door wouldn’t open. Pushed harder. It rattled. Pushed.
Rattled with resistance. Locked. I wanted to rip off the blasted
door to get inside there. I rocked it harder. Longer. Shaking it.
Locked.

I saw a security key pad to the side of the
door. I’m familiar with this pad, used it before. It’s the same pad
by Mr. Douglas’s house. I knew the code. I punched in the security
pin 4927#. Pushed the door. Still locked. I entered something wrong
in the code. Entered it too fast. Slower now. 4. 9. 2. 7. #. Wait
for the green light to blink at the top of the keypad. The light
blinked. Red. Wrong code. I entered it again. Faster. Wrong code.
Banged the door with my fist. Bang! Bang! BANG! Beat it down.

Someone came. It was an overgrown man, decked
out in a full navy blue security uniform, with a white name badge,
pinned to his left chest that read ‘Tobias’. The name sounded old
and country. He had a gun at his side. I quieted down.

“Ma’am you can’t enter,” He was definitely
country, and his accent sounded as if he originated from the
farthest region of the country. Far, far. “Move from the doorway
Ma’am.” This is really how Mr. Douglas gonna deal with me? Really?
He’s making a sad mistake because it won’t go down like this.

“I know the little .... I know Mr. Douglas
inside there. Sitting around a big desk watching me on a little TV.
Tell him to get outside this very minute.” I wanted to say, tell
him to get outside now, let mi rip him up. But I couldn’t let them
know the plan, or else I wouldn’t get my chance. “Tell him Right
now, right- right now.” I pointed to the security chest. “You do
that.” The security deep country accent sounded out of place in the
office when he replied

“Ma’am you have to leave, or else you forcing
mi to fist you under your belly.”

Another security came. He was shorter and had
more belly than muscles.

“I’m not leaving this building till your boss
come and speak with me. Tell him that a mad woman out here to him.”
The shorter security informed me that,

“Ma’am Tobias is right. If you don’t leave,
one of us will have to punch you under your belly and haul you
outside.”

“Dream on, I dare one of you to thump me
today. You wouldn’t see the end of! Just touch mi.” I begged them
to. The security eyed each other and walked over to me. “Don’t you
dare touch mi enuh!” The receptionist smiled.

The stout security grabbed one of my arm and
the overgrown Tobias grabbed my other arm and swung his big fist in
the air to thump me. The shorter security grabbed his fist and
said,

“No Tobias. You too wicked. Look how she
mawga she can manage that ...,” Swinging his chin up in the air
pointing at Tobias fist in mid air. “that big fist, she can’t
manage nothing big.” Tobias really wanted to fist me. He pressed on
to argue,

“But Sup .... mi have to do it. It’s
procedure ... It’s in the manual.”

And before the shorter security could reply,
‘PLOW!’ right under mi belly for true. I saw the moon and the
stars, all blinking. They escorted me off the property. Where’s
Pinky when you need her?

By seven thirty in the night, the light of
the day was fading to the dark of the night. I was still by the
gate, waiting. I watched all the vehicles drove from the property
and at 9 p.m. I was still waiting. Everyone was gone. Only Mr.
Douglas’ Range Rover remained in the parking lot. The receptionist
spoke the truth. He really had driven his other vehicle home.

I privated my number, dialled Mr. Douglas.
Changed my mind, cancelled the call. It was useless anyway. I made
a big sad sigh. With my head down I prodded off slowly from the
gate. I live more than four miles away from here, but I felt like
walking home. No taxi. No passenger. No talking. Just a quiet
lonely walk home. I prodded.

My phone rang. Gloe. I didn’t answer. I
thought long and hard and short and wide; how else could I get that
kind of money before Thursday. There’s no other way I could think
of. Not giving up, I said to my heart, but it sounded much weaker
than when I said it this evening. All hope is slender. I will
return to Mr. Douglas’s office everyday until he pays me some
attention. But Tobias. I doubt he will let me step foot back on the
property. My hand went to holding the remains of the cramp under my
belly.

Then came a mechanical sound behind me, a
continuous tone, sounds electronic. The automatic gate was opening
and the army green Range Rover was driving through. I squinted my
eyes to see if it was really Mr. Douglas driving. I couldn’t really
make out who the driver was. But who would be driving his vehicle?
The dry hair secretary? Or?

I kept my eyes focused at the windscreen
through the night’s smoke of darkness. The windscreen was tinted
and that didn’t help in me trying to make out the driver. The van
came closer, and as whoever was driving saw me, they stepped on the
gas. It must be that bitch of a secretary. He must be sleeping with
her for her to be driving his vehicle. That’s the reason she has so
much attitude. Why didn’t I pick it up from the way she spoke about
the vehicle? The vehicle sped closer. I could see the silhouette of
the driver more clearly now, it was like a 3-D shadow image behind
the steering wheel. Mr. Douglas bald head, but couldn’t quite make
out the features of his face. How can I get him to stop? I don't
know. Think. I do what I had to do. Sprang right infront the
speeding vehicle.

I heard the engine revved louder and the van
picked up more speed, a trail of furry dust behind its wheel. I’m
not moving. I wasn’t moving. He’d have to stop or run me over, but
I’m not the one moving. I closed my eyes. One second, two, three.
His engine roared louder. He was not slowing down, he was gassing
it. I popped my eyes wide open like big round bug-eyes. He wasn’t
easing down. The van raced closer and closer. Closer. Bulleting
full-speed with no intention whatsoever to touch his brakes. Oh
shit!

Ran. Jumped. Got out the way, running out of
my shoe, chucked into the bushes at the side of the road, landed on
my side. My hip hurt. One of my shoe left in the middle of the
road. The van tore over my shoe, swerved to the side I chucked. So
close to me that the breeze from the van blew my well combed hair
to a mess. Dust covered my face. My shoes laid dead in the road.
Dead. That could have been me. I pranced up to my feet, took off my
other shoe and threw it through the plague of dust at the long gone
green van. I screamed, rather yelled out

“Battyman Mr. Douglas!” the van shrunk
smaller and smaller down the road as he sped on and zoomed around
the blind corner, vanishing.

I heard the frightening screeches of brakes.
Then a loud mighty clap of metals, a deafening collision. Someone’s
definitely dead. The first thing that came to my mind was, great, I
hoped he’s dead. Dead good. He just swerved at me. He killed my
shoe. The jerk wanted to run me over. But when I thought about the
money for Vance, I prayed to God he saved the bastard. My only
chance. Did he survive the crash? I kicked off my other shoe, raced
barefooted down the road and around the bend to find out. There was
blood all over, and a dead body.

by: Vybz

Murdered. Couldn’t Sleep lastnight. Too much
to sleep with, just too much. Killed. I didn’t know how long before
I even returned to Jamaica when I leave. I put my journal in my red
suitcase on the bed. Got to let at least two years blow off before
I set back foot in Jamaica. That’s if Portia pull off the other
half of the link that she should. She gave me a link to a
bandoloo-ist girl name Danni to buy a fake U.S. Visa. If I get to
California on this Visa I’m hoping the other link Portia said she
lined up for me over Cali come through, then I could settle down in
Cali, sort out my papers and join the California Police Dept. Use
that clean money to start a brand new crime-free life. I put the
key to my journal in my wallet, back-pocketed my wallet. I reached
to close the suitcase but picked up my black journal from among the
few clothes I packed, held it in my hand, stared at it.

Leaving someone you love behind, with you
being their one and only support is a hard decision to make.
Leaving Mama and Tatiana is a huge decision for me. My life. A big
deal, but Mama will be proud of me once I get the link from Portia
and settle down. Tatiana gonna miss me but eventually she would
understand that her Daddy looking for a better life for him and
her. And as soon as I earned my citizenship, I’m filing for her and
Mama. Just as I got a text from Lia, this happens. I think when she
hears of what happened lastnight she’ll lose all hope in me. Her
text was a strange one, the other day. I wondered if she still
thinks about me romantically like I do her. What the hell, I
shouldn’t even care what she thinks anymore, she’s uptown, belong
to Qwan, and only see me as her friend, not even a close one. She
would never give me a chance. I have a daughter and she was as good
as having a husband. So why she texted me that?

Definitely gonna miss my chargie, Pinky. Most
people think mi and Pinky doing things, not a relationship, but
because we so close people think that we must have sex already.
Maybe that's the reason Lia standing off. Naah, couldn’t be, Lia
knows Pinky is not my type, doesn’t she? Let’s be honest with
myself, me and Pinky would make great partners, she’s my kind of
girl, that’s why we so close. I could spend my whole life with
Pinky, but she is with one of my closest friends, Finaral, who is
one of the most murderous man I ever heard of. So even if we would,
I wouldn’t. You feel mi? Lia I wished we had gotten to talk before
I leave. Lia, Lia, Lia. Still staring at my journal in my hand, I
remembered the poems I wrote her in my journal, but had never given
any to her. I made a breathy sigh, a feint scent of tin mackerel
was still in the house though we ate more than twenty minutes ago.
I put the journal in my suitcase.

Knowing Portia I can’t depend on her link but
it’s better than no link at all, right? How Portia stay, she love
to hype up things and talk ’bout she’s going to get this and get
that artist to pass through, and this and that selector, cheap link
to bullets, links with this and that Don, and most of what she says
never come through. Not saying none didn’t come through before,
because couple of them did. Like the one she made at the wharf,
with the barrel of Blackberry Curves, that was legit, but most
time, she just love chat and hype things, so it’s hard to know when
her link legit or not. I’m praying the one in Cali legit, because
what will happen to me in the future all depend on this. Mama
hobbled through my room door.

“Ajrien you don’t think you should give
Agri-Processors at least a week notice before you resign? Can't
just burn your bridges behind you enuh.” She began hobbling from
the door towards me by the bed, “Don't think you should just up and
leave just so. You don’t even have any friends or family in Cali,
why you taking that job?” She hobbled closer, “Tell them give you a
week to sort out things in Jamaica, any company dealing with
immigrant labour must can understand that. From when you
applied?”

I couldn’t look in Mama’s eyes. I didn't turn
around, I told her too many lies. I had no choice. I had to in
order to hide my underworld life. Mama have no idea what a young
youth had to do to prove himself in the ghetto, just to not become
the next beating stick of the ghetto. I had to be gangster, even if
I rather to not run the streets. I had to show Finaral I was tough.
I had to lie to Mama about it even if I rather not to. Told her so
many lies about where I went at nights - parties, friends,
girlfriend. All lies. To her I’m Ajrien her intelligent and
ambitious son who works an honest nine to five to support her and
my daughter. To the streets, I’m Vybz, the gangster with the brain.
Except for lastnight. And even though I don't want to, this
afternoon I’m telling Mama the biggest lie.