Three the Hard Way: A Play in Two Acts (27 page)

"I told you, Carla, I do contract work for large corporations."

"Yeah, but what does that mean?"

"You want the truth?"

"Yes."

"The whole story?"

"Yes."

"Nothing but the facts?"

"Yes," I said and started to giggle. "Tell me!"

"I’m the type of guy you call when you want something done that isn’t quite legal and maybe just a little dangerous."

"Yeah, but what does that mean? Are you a hit man or something?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Do you have a gun?"

"In my jacket pocket."

"Have you ever killed anybody?" I asked surprised at how all this was making me feel. "Never mind, I really don’t want to know. Just tell me what you do?"

"I’m more like an industrial spy, for lack of a better word, but I do more than that. In this particular case I was just the go between. I was supposed to exchange some money for a CD."

"But something went wrong, didn’t it?"

"You could say that. After we made the exchange, another guy came out of nowhere. I should have been more careful, brought along somebody to back me up. It was supposed to be an easy exchange. Clean and simple. But I was distracted, thinking about seeing you again."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Zavier smiled. "They shot me and took the CD. I guess they thought I was dead. I got lucky."

"You call being shot and left for dead, lucky?"

"Yes, considering that they could have emptied the clip in me to make sure I was dead."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I gotta get that CD back."

"How are you going to do that?’

"Find the guys that stole it."

"Toshika says that you lost some blood and that you need to rest."

Zavier got up and put on his jacket. "I’m fine, really."

"You said there was something I could do for you."

"I need a car."
Oh, hell to the no
! "Would you drive me to the airport so I can rent one?" Zavier said and had to steady himself.

I felt relieved, "You’re in no condition to drive yourself." Then suddenly I went stupid. "I could drive you where you need to go."

"No, Carla, I’m going to look for the men who shot me. I don’t want you involved in this anymore than you already are."

"No, Zavier. It’s the least I could do. Since you say it was my fault you got careless.’

"I can’t let you do this. It’s too dangerous."

"What was that you said? ‘Life is about risk. Some people choose to look at the risk in every opportunity. I choose to look at the opportunity in every risk.’ So, I think there’s a certain logic in me taking you where you need to go."

"There’s no logic in that at all. I get paid to take the risk. There is absolutely no reason for you to do this."

"Except one."

"What’s that?"

"You need me. So let’s stop wasting time and let’s go." I got no more argument from Zavier.

Part VI

Where are we goin’?" I asked Zavier as we got in my car and left my house.

"Take I-20 to Moreland Avenue and go south."

So now, here I am, driving down I-20 taking this man who knows where, to get deeper involved in who knows what. And I had to ask myself, why? Forget that line I gave him about there being a certain logic in what I was doing.

Zavier was right.

There was no logic in it at all.

Then why?

Why was I doing it? If I choose to be honest with myself, if not Zavier, there may not have been any logic, but it was definitely a certain degree of excitement in effect in what I was doing. You know, the mysterious man with a gun in his pocket. Shika having to rush over to tend to his gunshot wound. And now, we were on our way to find his attackers. Definitely more exciting than the evening I was planning, and maybe . . . just maybe, I was little turned on by the whole thing. Think about it, me, Miss play-it-safe Carla, driving this very sexy man, who has made such passionate love to me; a spy. I felt like a Bond girl in one of the 007 movies. Wow! That’s all I could say is, "Wow!"

"Did you say something, Carla?"

"No, just thinking out loud."

"If you had good sense, you’d be thinking about driving me to the airport to rent a car and going home. Not driving me to the Libra Ballroom."

"Libra Ballroom. Is that where were going?"

"Yes. You know the place?"

"Yes. Back in the day, we used to hang out there, but wasn’t it on Memorial Drive?"

"It was. Now it’s on Moreland, just past the Kroger."

I got on I-20 and headed south. I hadn’t been down this way in years. Not since I lived in Countryside on Bouldercrest. Now it’s called Eagles Run. The times, they are a changin’. Those were what I thought were my wild days. They pale in comparison to what I was doing now.

We pulled into the parking lot at the Libra. I remember this being some other club back then. The parking lot was full. Security walked up to the car waving a flashlight. "Sorry, Miss, there’s no place else to park. You have to park across the street," he said.

"You don’t have a parking space for
me
, Ben?"

"Zavier!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Park in the handicap space, Bull’s already gone for the night."

"Thanks, Ben."

I backed up and parked as instructed, in the handicap space. "I take it you come here often?"

"Once or twice, maybe."

"You never did say why we were coming here?"

"Maybe I just needed a drink."

"Is everything a secret with you?"

"There’s somebody here I need to talk to. Besides, I need a drink. Come on."

We went inside the club and Zavier got the same reception. One of the waitresses hugged Zavier and rolled her eyes at me. No respect, the bitch.

Then, "Zavier!" another man yelled over the music.

"Till!" Zavier yelled just as loud. The two men embraced as men do nowadays. "Till, this is my very good friend, Carla Edwards. Carla, this is Gary Tilly."

"How you doing," he said very formally. "Come here, Zavier. Let me holla at yah a minute."

"Excuse me, Carla. I’ll be right back." Zavier threw his arm around him and they walked away.

I was walking around the club checking things out, when a man said, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"I just got here."

"This your first time here?"

"Yes, it is. I’m here with a friend."

"Well, if you need anything or you have a problem, just let me know. Enjoy your evening."

"I’ll be sure to do that." I turned to say thank you, but when I did he was gone.

Not too long after that, Zavier walked up behind me. "Sorry about that."

"That’s okay. I don’t think your friend likes me."

"Who… Tilly?" Zavier frowned. "Don’t let that bother you. Tilly loves women, he just doesn’t trust them. Some of y’all got too much game for his taste. He believes that that is one of life’s traps. He’s good people though. One of the best I know. He’s my—"

"Zavier!" another man yelled over the music. It was starting to get old.

"Keys!" The man walked up to us. It was the same man that I was just talking to. "How you doin’? Got a good crowd tonight."

"Yeah, they’re coming on in." Keys,
I guess that’s his name
, said and looked over at the bar. "Now they need to start drinkin’."

"We need to talk." Zavier said to him. He led us to a table in the back of the club and we sat down.

The waitress with the rolling eyes came up to the table and placed a drink in front of Zavier. "Can I get you something?" she didn’t say it, but I heard
bitch
loud and clear.

"Vodka Collins." I didn’t say it, but bitch came through loud and clear. As she went to get my drink, both men looked at one another and smiled.

"Dwight, this is Carla Edwards. Carla, this is my brother Dwight Keys."

He extended his hand. "Call me Keys. You know, like door keys," he laughed. "Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Carla. Like I said, if you need anything, or if you have a problem, just let me know. Food, drink, anything in the house is yours, and your money is no good here." Then he kissed my hand.

"Well, thank you. Like I said," returning his kiss with a smile as the waitress returned with my drink, "I’ll be sure to do that."

"Enough of this already," Zavier said. "I need to talk to you."

"Don’t hate," Keys replied.

"I got shot today." Zavier had his attention now.

"The Lithuanians you were meeting?" That raised an eyebrow.
The accent.

"Yeah. I made the exchange with fat boy then the quiet man shot me. They took the package and the money, and left me for dead."

"I told you to let me come back you up. I’ll get my gun."

"No, you got a club to run."

"Tilly can run things."

"No, Dwight. I got this."

"You got this? That’s how you got yourself shot. I’m coming with you."

"No. I just need you to put the word out that I’m looking for them."

"What they look like."

"Two white men. Fat boy had a blue suit, white shirt, and a tie that looked like it was a holdover from the seventies. The quiet man was dressed the same, only his suit was black."

"Zavier," I said, and both men looked at me like they were shocked that I could talk. "That sounds like the men that came to my house looking for you." Zavier looked at me strangely. "The police."

"Those weren’t cops," Zavier said.

"Hold up," Keys said. "That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they come to her house if they already had the package and the money?"

"I don’t know."

"You tell Cindy yet?"

"No. I was going to talk to her next. There’s something that she’s not telling me."

"I never did quite trust her."

"Neither do I, but she pays good, up front and in cash. I might need you and Tilly to back me up later."

"Now you’re talking like you got some sense."

Zavier got up and drained his glass. I finished mine as quickly as I could, and followed Zavier out the door. Once we got to my car Zavier turned to me. "Maybe you should stay here, Carla."