UNDER ABNORMAL CONDTIONS
By
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Erick D. Burgess on Smashwords
Under Abnormal Conditions
Copyright © 2012 by Erick D. Burgess
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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Chapter 1
You can’t save everyone.
Those words rang in my mind as I stared out the window. The rain beat a gentle pattern against the large window in Dr. Franklin’s office. Even though I was very tired from a weekend of little to no sleep, my mind raced as I answered the doctor’s questions.
“How have you been feeling lately, Michael? He asked in his most soothing and therapeutic voice.
“I haven’t been getting much sleep.” I answered as I returned to my chair. “I’ve been getting crank calls all weekend and when I do doze off . . . I dream about her.”
“How do these dreams make you feel?” he asked.
“Like I never want to sleep again.” I answered. This was only my third session with Dr. Franklin and I was still terribly nervous. It was difficult not to be intimidated by the many degrees and awards that hung on the good doctor’s wall.
“Can we talk about what happened that night?” he asked as the scratching of his pencil against his legal pad sounded like the only sound in the world.
I closed my eyes to help focus and answered, “It was a Saturday night and Michelle and I were riding around the campus in my car. We had dinner to celebrate the end of my certification and then went back to my house. I tried to talk her into staying, but she had a test to study for so she left. That’s it. That was the last time I ever saw her.”
“No one knows what happened to her?”
“They found her car a couple of days later. It was late and it was raining. I didn’t want her to go, but she wasn’t worried about it. I don’t know what happened. She probably stopped to try and help somebody. That was the kind of person she was.”
“She sounded like a very special person.”
“She was. After my accident, she made me feel alive again. If it weren’t for her I never would have even tried to be a cop. She really was special. She believed in me.” I paused as I felt tears begin to build in my eyes. “That’s how the dreams are. I would try to keep her from leaving but I never could.”
“How does that make you feel?” he asked.
“Helpless. They needed me and I couldn’t help them.”
“They?” he asked. Before I could clarify my slip, he continued, “Interesting. Well, we only have a few minutes left for this session, so maybe we can tackle that issue next week. How is your return to school going?
“Well, it took a while to get back into the swing of things, but everything is going well. If fact, I’ll be graduating soon.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Finally. It’s been a long time since I’ve had something like this to look forward to. For my final project in my psychology class, my assignment was to do an in-depth character analysis of someone close to me but not related.”
He laughed quietly and said, “I can remember that. Who is your professor?”
“Dr. Alan Pierre.”
“Hmmm, I don’t believe I know him. Is the class going well for you?” he asked.
“It’s going okay. I decided to use Sherry Allen for my project.”
“Do you think that was a good decision? Isn’t she-”
“I know what you are thinking, but I had to do it. She just came back to work and I think that is why I started having the dreams again.”
“So what do you hope to accomplish by using her?”
“Maybe it’s to help me understand the situation more. I really don’t know. We both have to work through it so she was as good a person as any. You know, when my life finally calms down, I may even sit down and write a book.”
“Autobiographical?” he asked.
“No, the story I write will have a happy ending.”
Chapter 2
As I drove from the doctor’s office, I wondered whether or not I should have told him about the phone calls. I figured maybe it would make me look paranoid, even though it was a big part of why I wasn’t sleeping. In a way I was thankful. Nothing could have been worse than the dreams.
Nothing.
For the past two years my life had been a nightmare. Everything started with the accident. I was on my way to an All-American season at Southern State University when it happened. I was driving back home to visit my grandfather whose body was being destroyed by cancer.
We had just beaten North Arkansas State for homecoming. I had my best game of the year and the team had planned on going out to celebrate. I hadn’t even finished drying myself off when Coach Jackson told me I had an emergency phone call. I was dripping wet and standing in a puddle in the coach’s office waiting for the call to be transferred. A million different things ran through my mind as I waited.
Was Ester okay?
Was it the baby?
When I heard the distress in Ester’s voice, I knew exactly what it was. The doctors only gave my grandfather a few hours to live. I dressed quickly and headed straight home.
I didn’t get on the road until after ten o’clock. Normally the drive would only take about thirty minutes but I had to take Highway 190 because of work being done on Interstate 12. The air was cool and the night was bright. I remember praying he would make it through Christmas. That is all I remembered of my drive that night.
From what the police said, a drunk driver crossed the middle lane and hit my car. I was thrown from the wreck and slammed against a tree. My leg snapped like a weak sapling, but the driver of the other car ended up with barely a scratch.
While I was in the hospital recovering, my grandfather passed away. As close as we were I couldn’t be there for him when he needed me most. That was something I would have to live with for the rest of my life, and yet another reason I couldn’t sleep.
Another reason I didn’t want to sleep.
Chapter 3
Dunham Heights was a small quiet town right outside of Baton Rouge. Because of good schools and the Capital City’s fifty-year old desegregation case, the population was growing at a record pace. Like most southern towns, strict racial lines divided it. Of course, my house was located on the infamous Rodeo Drive. It was the proverbial track the people of my color were commonly known to live across.
I drove back home and dressed for work. Luckily for me, my work attire consisted of a black suit and white t-shirt. Along with the music, that was one of the many perks of managing a jazz club. Along with his house, my grandfather left me an extensive jazz collection and a great appreciation for America’s only true art form.
I started working at the Club Cool Breeze as a security guard about a year ago. In six months time I was managing the place.
I turned into the parking lot of the club at five-thirty that afternoon. Even though it was December, the weather outside was hardly winter like. The typical south Louisiana Christmas was rarely spent in front of a fireplace. We were lucky if the weather dipped below sixty degrees. It was so warm and muggy my glasses fogged over as soon as I stepped out of my car.
The club had gone through numerous name changes, but Cool Breeze was the one that finally stuck about five years ago. In the year I was born, 19F7, my father said the building was occupied by a drug store.
Some of our patrons would call the building rustic. Some even say it is an antiquated testament to the French influence on Louisiana. I, on the other hand, would just call it old, much older than myself.
The two-story building was brownish yellow stucco with a balcony that faced the heavily trafficked Summer Street. Though the surrounding area was crime ridden, The Cool Breeze was a place where people of all races, creeds, colors and religions could meet and mingle, but all with the understanding their respective vehicles could be missing by the end of the evening.
As usual, I entered through the front door instead of the service entrance, to get a feel for what was in store for the evening. It didn’t surprise me to see a few regulars had already taken their usual places at the bar while the local jazz station played softly in the background.
The inside of the club was just as out of date as the outside. Patches of mold dotted the ceiling, but the low lighting and the slow turning ceiling fans mostly shielded that. The tables in front of the stage were small and close together. The large dark cherry wood bar dominated the room and the walls were covered with posters and photos of jazz legends like “Cannonball” Adderley, Miles Davis and Charlie Parker. In the early 80’s, Cool Breeze was known as the place to play. The location between Baton Rouge and New Orleans was fertile ground for young musicians eager for the chance to be the next Wynton Marlais or Harry Connick Jr. The place was never much to look at, but it was never about the appearance. It was always about the music.
The front bar was usually the hub of activity at that time of day. Mona, an overly sweet single mother who didn’t really have the temperament to deal with unruly customers, was manning the bar as usual.
She was tall with dark feathered hair and sparkling eyes. As I was about to pass, those eyes pleaded with me to stop. I could barely hear her say, “That’s our manager there.”
A smallish man who resembled a black Barney Fife turned and stumbled over to me. He wore a gray t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and an old welders cap. With the way he smelled, I would have offered him money to find a shower.
“I gave her a twenty dollar bill and all she gave me was change for a ten. I knows how much money I got and I knows how much I gave her. I want my change,” he slurred.
I looked at Mona. She shrugged her shoulders and showed me the dirty, wrinkled ten-dollar bill.
“Sir, I think maybe you made a mistake.”
“Are you calling me a liar? I ain’t never had no problems like this here. The customer always right. Don’t you know nothing? I been coming here since before you was a thought in your daddy’s eye. I want satisfaction.”
With a smile on my face I said, “Sir, if you’d like, I can come back there and pour you another drink and you can tell me about the good old days.”
He gritted his teeth and continued to wait for me to cave. When I didn’t, he agreed. He mumbled something as he sat back down at the bar.
I walked around the bar and poured him a drink and asked, “So did you ever hear Miles play here?”
“What? Did I?” he paused and sipped his drink. “You too young to know nothing about Miles. I’ll tell you one thing. He was the coolest dude to ever walk the planet. The only thing he ever got in a hurry for was a female, you know. Always sharp and always cool. Cool Breeze, you know what I’m sayin’.”
He downed the rest of his drink and headed outside. The club had only been open for an hour or so. He must have been waiting on the steps to get inside as soon as the key was turned.
Mona smiled and said, “You have a gift. Do you know that?”
“Me? Not really. The only thing people really want in this world is attention, especially older people. They have so much knowledge, but most of us are too stupid to just sit and listen. Taking five minutes out of my day meant the world to him.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“No, I’m serious. That man probably doesn’t have a thing to live for. He probably found that money somewhere and was just trying to make it stretch. Basically he is just waiting for God and in the meantime he wants some good conversation.
“Well, I’ll know how to handle him next time. By the way, someone dropped off a package for you earlier.”
“For me? Candy? Flowers, maybe? Mona, I didn’t know you cared.”
She swatted me away and said, “It’s in your office. Oh, and Dex wanted to talk to you.
“I guess that means he is going to be at work tonight?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. Dex was Dexter Jackson and he was her part-time lover, but my fulltime nemesis. He was a small time hustler with Hollywood looks and a ghetto mentality which brought a cloud of negative energy everywhere with him.
Parallel to the bar was a set of stairs that lead to the club owner’s office, which was strictly for closed-door business. Phil would occasionally leave names at the bar of people to be allowed upstairs.
I walked from behind the bar and headed to the back of the club, where my office was located. I hung up my coat and picked up the odd shaped package that sat on my desk, but just before I began to open it, I heard one of the incoming musicians passing by the door mention Phil. I had hoped maybe he wouldn’t be in, but as usual, my luck was like a certain hunter’s when trying to catch that elusive little gray rabbit.
It was for the best because I wanted to talk to him about taking some time off soon. I left the office and began my usual routine of checking deposits and receipts. Just as I was finishing, I heard him approaching. I knew it was him because he always whistled the old Bobby Darrin song, Beyond the Sea, and after he left a room he left a trail of ashes behind him. He had a terrible habit of flicking his ashes on the floor instead of using an ashtray.
His name was Phil Reighton. He was about fifty-two years old, and about six-feet tall. His thinning brown hair was cut in a flattop. He had a neatly groomed mustache with a goatee and striking blue eyes to complete his package. Even with a bit of a portly belly, he seemed to be in reasonably good shape for a man of his age.
“Mikey, how are you this evening!” he asked as he slapped me on the shoulder. “You making me some money?”
“Yeah, we are doing fine, Mr. Reighton . . . but I would like to have a word with you later on.”
“No problem. Oh, Kevin Turner is not going to be able to work security tonight so you’ll have to handle any flare-ups. I’m going to interview a few acts and then we can get together. One more thing, call me Phil,” he smiled and walked away.
I didn’t want to call him Phil, because I didn’t like him. He knew I hated being called “Mikey”, especially by him. Maybe it was just the way he said it. It was almost like I wasn’t a man, but just a little boy who didn’t deserve his time or respect.
I knew exactly what he meant by interview. It was his way of saying he would be in his upstairs office with the flavor of the month girl. If his wife called, he was ‘interviewing’ a new act.Dealing with Phil was not the only problem I had to deal with at work. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her coming.
“I need to talk to you,” she said as she walked into my office and closed the door. I felt a cold chill run through me because not only was Sherry Allen the subject of my final project, she was Michelle’s mother.
Chapter 4
Even though she was in her mid to late forties, Sherry was still an attractive lady. Her face had only a few lines of dignity to reveal her age. Her long dark brown hair was usually in a ponytail. She had a very soft face with delicate features, and an almond-shaped pair of dark, unrelenting eyes.
I knew Michelle from high school. She was the girl everyone in high school had a crush on. There was always something that made her different from the rest. Even though she was beautiful and graceful beyond her years, she was a genuinely sweet person. She was a striking young woman, tall and voluptuous. Her dark brown hair barely kissed her shoulders. She had alabaster skin with deep blue eyes. Her bright smile and perfect teeth left me in a daze. Even at that time, she was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And to top it off, she was a singer.
She was the reason I was hired at the club in the first place. My best friend, Trey, and I happened into the club as I was celebrating my twenty first birthday and she happened to be singing that night. She didn’t waste her voice with today’s tired and overly produced music. She sang standards, the type of music that helped my grandparents fall in love.
Even though I was painfully nervous, I managed to work up the nerve to talk to her after her set was over. She had the type of beauty that would make any man at least a little unsure of himself not to even mention the race issue. In a town that small, dating outside your race was still something that could haunt a family for a lifetime.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, I told her how I had something of a crush on her in high school. She turned as red as a fire engine and said how flattered she was. I thought that would be the end of it, but she asked me to wait for her that night and we stayed there in the parking lot until three o’clock in the morning, just talking.
I told her about the end of my marriage and football career and she told me to come back the next day and talk to Phil about a job.
“Is Phil around?” Sherry asked bringing me back to reality.
“I think he went upstairs. Can I say something first?” I asked.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked as if I had a lot of nerve in stealing her thunder.
“I know it has been hard on you, the last year. I wish I could do something to make the situation better and-”
“Stop,” she shouted. “Michael, I’ve heard all of this before. I know it already. It was hard to even come back to work here. Just knowing you were here made my skin crawl. I hate you. You took my daughter away from me!”
“You know I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Michelle. I loved her.”
That was a mistake. Before the words were out of my mouth, she slapped me.
“Don’t you dare say you loved her.” Her chest rose up and down as she tried to restrain herself. “I will blame you until they find the real killer. She was killed because she was dating you so you might as well have done it yourself.”
“Sherry, we don’t know if that is why-”
“Shut up. Don’t tell me what I know,” she raged. “It’s been a year and the police have given up. They just looked at her as some white girl who was dating a nigger. They don’t care. I know you say you are trying to help, but if you really want to help me, find my daughter’s killer.
“You know I’m not a cop anymore,” I answered. “You saw to that.”
“I’m trying to put my own life back together. I’m sorry, but I can’t worry about yours. I’ve got another daughter to raise and she needs all of me. If you want forgiveness, find my daughter’s killer.”
I was floored by what she said and I had no idea of how to respond, so I didn’t. “I’ll be out on the floor if you need me.” I said as I closed the office door behind me.
I quit the force to investigate Michelle’s disappearance full time and I had only recently tried to go on with my life. Sherry’s other daughter, Sara, was eighteen months younger and a bit of a bad girl. Growing up in Michelle’s shadow couldn’t have been easy when she was alive so it had to be impossible after she disappeared.
“What’s up, Doc?” I heard a voice shout. I turned to see it was my best friend in the club, Joey. I hoped she wouldn’t ask me about church yesterday.
“Did you make it to church yesterday? That was something, huh?”
“No I didn’t get a chance to go. Maybe next week.”
“You have been saying that a lot here lately. What’s the problem?” she joked.
“It’s everything. I’ll have to tell you later,” I knew she understood. I trusted her, but not only did the walls have ears, so did the floor, the ceiling and so on.
“I’ll call you tonight,” she whispered confidentially.
Her God-given name was Josephine Leigh O’Connor. She was a part-time waitress and singer. She was like a fresh-faced angel, with a smooth soulful voice that seemed misplaced in a young Irish girl. Although she was in her early twenties, she had a childlike innocence that was refreshing. Her curly brown hair spiraled down to her shoulders. Her cherubic face was highly animated and she had the most beautiful green eyes that always beamed with life.
Even though there wasn’t much said, I always felt better after talking to her. She knew I wasn’t perfect, and she accepted it. She had the type of infectious personality that made you smile when you looked at her whether you wanted to or not. Not only was it room brightening, it was life brightening. She seemed to care more for my soul than I did.
I started gathering trash and headed to the back of the building. With all of the problems I was having at home, I considered work my only place of solace, but that was fading quickly.
I got to the stockroom, threw my trash away and opened the back door and walked outside. On days like that one, I would often find myself standing in the doorway, staring outside at the small church right behind our building. It was just like the church my grandfather used to preach in.
Something inside of me died the night he passed away. It’s more than the fact I couldn’t be there with him. It was more in the fact he was the mentor my military-minded father never could be. There was always something special about a grandfather and grandson relationship. We never worried about the way we were supposed to act everything just came naturally.
I suppose my life could have been worse, but sometimes I just didn’t know. Is it better to live alone in the world feeling guilty or not live at all?
I couldn’t imagine the pain Sherry was going through. Even though we weren’t getting along, I still had my parents and when I lost my grandparents, I was able to go visit their gravesite. I had a place to grieve, but she may never have one.
“And just where are you?” I heard her familiar voice ask.
“What?” I answered and turned to see Joey standing behind me.
“What are you doing back here? I thought you were going to work the floor?” I asked.
“Mona asked me to throw some boxes away before I came up front. I know that you said we could talk about it later but something is definitely wrong. What’s going on?”
“It’s the same old thing. I don’t know where my life is going. I had everything planned out. Everything was set down to the last detail. But now . . .” I couldn’t even finish my statement. I silently shook my head in disbelief at the wreck my life had become.
“You want to go get some coffee after work? There’s a new little coffee shop that just opened up downtown,” she said softly.
“Thanks, but I’m really tired and I’ve got some schoolwork to finish.”
She snickered a bit and said, “I still can’t get over the fact you are in school. Maybe you should just bring your teacher an apple and come out with us tonight. Don’t you need a break?”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ve got responsibilities. What can I do?” I answered.
“You can go with us. Alicia is going to be there,” she said with a sly grin on her face. “You do remember her, right?”
“Alicia. About five foot two, one hundred and ten pounds, shoulder-length black hair, pouty full lips, golden skin, hazel eyes, and a walk with more twists than a soap opera. Yeah, I think I remember her.”
“I thought that might change your mind. She’s going back to school soon. If you want to come with, call me.”
“I’ll see what I can do. If I don’t make it, tell Alicia I said ‘helllloooo’.”
Still grinning like the devil at a heavy metal concert, she turned and strolled away. It would have been nice to get away, but I knew I had too much going on for that.
I closed the backdoor and headed back to the front. Just as I reached the doors leaving the stockroom, a seemingly angry young woman hailed me.
“Excuse me, do you work here?”
“Yes, ma’am, can I help you?”
She moved past me so her back was facing the door to the back office. As I turned to face her, my back was facing the bar.
“Don’t turn around,” she said in a whisper. She put her hand on my cheek just to make sure I wouldn’t. “There is a man at the bar that will not leave me alone. I told him I am not interested, but he won’t quit.”
“Ma’am, you’re an attractive lady. I’m sure you have had many men approach you. Maybe-”
“Yes I do, but that’s not the issue. This is different,” she said as she tried to glance over my shoulder. “Please do something.”
I turned and walked over to the bar. It wasn’t hard to pick out the man she was talking about. He was having a discussion with Mona that seemed to be getting out of hand. She exhaled with relief when she saw me coming towards her.
He looked at me and said in a calm and deliberate, “An excellent wife is the crown of her husband. But she who causes shame is like rottenness in his bones.”
Mona and I just stared at each other for a moment. He was a white man with a full beard and glasses wearing a light trench coat and rain hat.
“If you are looking for a wife, you may be in the wrong place,” I answered with a smile. A few of the other patrons laughed as they witnessed our exchange.
Suddenly he stood and pointed at the young lady who was still standing at the back of the club and said, “Who can find a virtuous woman? For her worth is far above rubies. The heart of her husband safely trusts her; so he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life!”
And with that, he marched out the door. I felt a soft hand touch my arm. It was the woman who called my attention to him in the first place.
“Weird. I told you. He is really out there.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ll walk you out to your car whenever you are ready to go.” I said.
“Thank you. I was really worried.”
I was about to walk outside to make sure he was gone when she stopped me and said, “My name is Carmen. And you are?”
“Drake. Michael Drake. I’m the manager here. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.”
“You better believe I will,” she said in a way that made my heart jump.
I was trying to think of something witty to say when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned expecting a fight but it was just Dexter, the sax man.
“You did a good there, Boss,” he said in a fake Jamaican accent. “I had your back in case some trouble went down. And just how are you pretty one?” he said to Carmen.
The ladies loved his hazel eyes and seemingly flawless bronze skin. He wore his waist length braided hair loose so it would flow wildly when he blew an up tempo song. During a slow number he would seductively brush his long hair from his eyes and stroke his neatly trimmed goatee. The women didn’t have a chance.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she flirted in return. “And I will see you later, Mr. Drake,” she said to me and walked away. Both Dexter and myself admired the view.
“Look here, Boss man. Me needs to have some words with you before me go on tonight. Very important if you know what me mean man.”
“Yeah, we can go back to my office in a few minutes. I just need to talk with Phil when he is finished upstairs.” I answered.
Everything was pretty much uneventful until after my dinner break, when I tried to track down Phil for our little talk. Just when I was ready to corner him, Joey told me I had a phone call holding at the bar. I found the nearest extension and picked up.
“Club Cool Breeze, this is Drake. What can I do for you?”
“You said you were going to call me today,” she snapped. It was Ester.
“Is the baby all right?” I asked.
“She’s fine, but she misses her daddy,” she said with a whine.
“I’m really tied up right now. Can this wait until I get home?” I implored.
“We are tired of waiting for you. We are tired of your broken promises. Where is her child support, and why haven’t you come to see her?”
“You know I do the best I can, and between work and school, I just don’t have a lot of time. You know I love my daughter. That’s why I work as hard as I do. I want her to have all the things I never had,” I said, hoping for sympathy.
“What about the things you did have? Like two parents.”
“She has two parents,” I said, trying not to lose my temper.
“You know exactly what I mean. She needs two parents in the same house. If you care about her as much as you say you do, we would try and work things out.”
“This is not the time or the place. I’ll call you as soon as I get home so we can finish this. All right?”
“Fine, you better think about this. When she is old enough to understand, and she asks me why we aren’t together, I don’t want to have to tell her that her father didn’t want to try. Good-bye, Michael.”
“Bye.” I tried to answer, but she never heard it over the slamming of the phone into its cradle.
I wished she would just understand I just couldn’t be with her anymore and I couldn’t be with her just because of the baby. I love my daughter more than life itself. I just couldn’t spend the rest of my life in misery because of it. There was just too much deception and manipulation in our marriage to go back to the way things were.
In moments of weakness, I was almost ready to cave in and agree to get back together. Whenever my mind would go there, I thought about people like my best friend Trey, whose parents stayed together for the kid’s sake. It always ended up doing more harm than good. Whenever his parents did divorce, he felt like it was his fault.
Trey totally escaped into books and academics. Besides, I wanted a marriage like my grandparents had. If they ever had an argument, I never heard it. She always stood beside him, and he supported her in everything she did. They never spent one night apart.
I didn’t have the time to sit around and sulk. I had to catch up with Phil, before he slipped away. When I walked upstairs to his office, he was packing up his briefcase.
“Phil, do you have a minute?” I asked.
“Sure, Mikey. Come on in. What can I do for you?”
“What would I have to do to take a couple of days off . . . for personal reasons?”
After taking a long breath, he squinted his eyes and asked, “Don’t you want to own this place someday?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Well,” he interrupted. “You have to realize your personal problems stay home. I’ve been married three times, but I don’t bring that to work!”
“No, but-”
“Exactly, if you want to get anywhere in life, you have got to keep focused. Is that your only problem?” He asked cynically.
“Well, there have been a lot of rumors -”
“Oh, for God’s sake, be a man and deal with it. Damn it! Are you going to be a momma’s boy your whole life?” he said, while still packing his bag, only now a little more viciously.
I just closed my eyes and tried my best to block out what he was saying. If he looked in my eyes, he would see the pain that was in my heart. I would not give him the satisfaction.
“What? Are you mad now?” he asked as he flicked ashes from his cigar to the floor. “That’s just a part of running a business. You are going to have to deal with a lot worse, if you plan to stick it out here. You know, someone is waiting in the wings to take your place if you are not careful. Yeah, we just might need to go in a different direction. If there’s nothing else?”
“No, that’s all I needed. Thank you.”
Thanks for nothing.
He never had the time to listen to anyone. The worst thing was, I ended up feeling worse after talking to him. He closed his bag and headed for the door, when I finally summoned enough courage to take a stand.
“Look Phil, you haven’t been listening to a word I said or tried to say! I’ve got some time coming and I want to use it.”
“Hold on, mister! You need to watch your tone with me!” he shouted as he slammed his office door shut.
“And you need to learn to listen!” I shouted right back.
“I’m not going to argue with you! You think I don’t know about you and Sherry’s daughter?” he asked with a finger poking me in my chest.
I brushed his hand aside and said, “Look, Phil -”
“Why don’t you go ahead and take tomorrow off. As a matter of fact take the rest of the week off, without pay, of course. When you come back, I want a written apology and a written plan of action on how you are going to change your attitude, and why I shouldn’t fire you for insubordination.”
His breathing leveled out as the calming effect of wielding his “power” washed over him. I stood in silence as he deliberately flicked more ash to the floor and stormed out of his office. He left me sitting there with no dignity and possibly no job.
Could my life have been worse? Maybe so, but it wasn’t going to get any easier any time soon. Phil was not taking me seriously, and my personal life was in shambles.
I managed to dodge customers and employees alike on my way back to the floor. Even though I knew it wouldn’t last long, I felt comfort and relief. I sat next to a window and stared at the moon. I hoped it would relax my tension away.
It didn’t happen.
***
“Michael, my man. What seems to be the problem? You hadn’t forgotten we need to pass some words between us you know.”
“Alright Dexter, it’s just us. Drop the accent.”
“What’s up with you and my main man Phil?”
“It’s personal. What do you need?” I asked again.
“I heard you talking to your ex earlier. You know what the old players always say. It’s cheaper to keep her. See, I got me a lady right now that’s a lawyer. She said she would put $100,000 in my bank account tomorrow if I leave my wife.”
“Is that right?” I asked, knowing what he said was probably true. He could probably leave with a different woman every night of the week and on the nights his wife wasn’t at the club, he did.
“I can’t do that though. I signed them papers so I got to stay around for a little while. It looks good to my probation officer.”
“Well, I’m glad we had this conversation. I’ll see you inside,” I said as I walked back inside.
Following close behind, he said, “I have a friend who needs a job. What can you do for me?”
“I don’t think so. I wish I could help, but you know we don’t need any help right now.”
“No, I really mean it. I need a favor. I promise they can make it worth your while, if you know what I mean.”
I knew just what he meant. He was a small time hustler who had served a couple of years for possession with intent. With his attitude I didn’t figure it would take him long to get back into it. “No. I don’t want that in here.”
“Well,
look here, Church Boy. I was trying to cut you a deal away from the
main man. I was just trying to help a brother out. We could be
running this place, but you don’t want that. I could have gone to
Phil first, but I was trying to look out for the black man. If you
think I am the fool, you better check with the main man. Things are
about to change around here.”
“You and Phil are in this
together?”
“DTA, my friend. Don’t trust anyone. Man, you don’t even know. Phil is about making them dollars. All you want to do is throw some paint on the walls and turn this place into some restaurant. You ain’t going to make no money with that,” he said.
“Whatever, man,” I said as I tried to walk past him.
He grabbed my arm and said, “You come in here with that thick neck and big shoulders. You think I’m scared of you? I ain’t stupid. I ain’t going to try and fight you. You know that. When the time comes, you are going to step aside and I’m going to handle my business.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“If I was in the game like I was before I got locked up, you would have been gone. Look at this suit,” he said as he brushed his jacket with his ring-covered hands. “This suit is from France and my shoes are from Italy. You can’t even afford my socks, which were hand made in Japan. You better watch your back, Church Boy.”
He flashed a humorless smile and walked inside. I walked in and sat back at my usual table. I actually contemplated having a drink when Joey walked up and asked, “What was that all about?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Whenever I’m able to buy this place, he is the first one I am getting rid of. What’s up?”
“I hate to bother you, but you’ve got another phone call.”
“Alright. I’ll pick it up in my office. Thanks.” I walked into my office and closed the door. “Cool Breeze. Can I help you?” I asked.
“In the flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ.” the deep voice said.
“Sir, can I help you with something?” I asked, still dumbfounded from what I had just heard.
“He will punish those who do not know God and do not know the gospel of our Lord Jesus.”
“Sir, if you need the church . . .”
“No!” he shouted. “To Me belongeth the vengeance and the recompense. Their foot shall slide in due time: for the calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste. It is Mine to avenge, and YOUR day of disaster is near!” he proclaimed as the line went dead – just like my heart. I gently placed the phone back on its base.
My first thought was it didn’t take long for that psycho from earlier to find a payphone to call me from. I wondered if Carmen was still outside and if she needed an escort. As I was on my way to find out, I ran into, B.J., the maintenance man. I said “hello” as he stared blankly at a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling leading to the back office and breakroom.
He grunted a greeting in return. B.J. was a special breed of redneck. With his dirty cowboy boots and extra large belt buckle, he could have made Jeff Foxworthy look like a Rhodes Scholar.
“Make sure to keep an eye out tonight for trouble makers. Kevin Turner is off so if you see anything out of the ordinary let me know.” He looked at me with the same vacant expression that he stared at the cobweb. “Never mind. There are two flats in the back, and there are some more coming in tonight,” I said just as I was about to turn the corner.
B.J. was a slender, slightly balding man in his late sixties. He grew up in a time where “good colored” people knew their place.
At our Christmas party last year, he had imbibed more than his fair share of Jack Daniel’s when he pulled me to the side and poured out his heart. He said he wasn’t raised around black people, but I was one of the best-colored men he knew.
I almost felt sorry for him as he stumbled back to the festivities feeling as if he had done such a great deed. In his backward thinking mind, that was a compliment. Though he may not have realized it, I knew I was a good man. Period.
It was a typical Monday evening. Plenty of people spending money they didn’t have. At that rate, we would definitely make our needed sales for the day.
“Michael pick up on line one please,” I heard Mona yell.
I could feel my head start to ache as I searched for the nearest telephone. If it was Ester I was going to, . . . do nothing. I walked back to the office and closed the door. If we were going to fight, I didn’t want anyone else to hear it. I sat down took a deep breath and picked up the receiver.
“This is Michael. How may I help you?”
“You didn’t heed my first warning,” the grim voice said. It was the same caller from before.
“Can I help you, sir?” I asked.
“Help me? Help me? Help yourself. I know you don’t believe. No one else did either. Phil didn’t believe.”
“Sir, if this is about what happened earlier, the young lady didn’t want to be bothered.
“Bothered? Bothered? Now you see me as a mere bother but the day of reckoning is at hand. Everything he holds dear will perish in flames. At ten o’clock the recompense of the wicked will be justice. Do not suffer for the wicked one. Ten o’clock is the time. In a flash of fire and flames, the evil will be put away while the wicked one sleeps.” – click
In the bar business, you ran into crazies everyday. Normally it’s just a drunken idiot, but that call was different. There was disdain and hatred in his voice that flowed right through the phone. He sounded like he might actually try something.
I was responsible for everyone there and I couldn’t take the chance if it was a real threat. I flipped through the phone book and found the number for the police department. After three rings, someone answered.
“Dunham Heights Police Department. How may I direct your call?” a female voice asked.
“I’m calling from Club Cool Breeze. We just received a bomb threat, and-”
“I’ll transfer you to Arson Division.” – beep –
While I was on hold, I flipped through the morning paper. A twelve year old was gunned down as he walked home from school the day before. I was ready to forget the whole thing when someone finally picked up.
“Detective Antonio here.”
“Yes, detective. My name is Michael Drake. I’m calling from Club Cool Breeze over on the corner on Summer Street. We just received a bomb threat.”
“Was the person in there or did they leave a note?” he asked first.
“It was a phone call.”
“Tell me about it. What did the person say?”
“He quoted the Bible and said the owner was going to pay for what he had done.”
“Was the threat towards you or the club?”
“Both I guess. He said at ten o’clock it would be over in a flash of fire and flames.”
“Can you tell me anything about the caller’s voice?” he droned as if I was keeping him away from a hot batch of freshly glazed donuts.
“It was a man’s voice, but it was sort of muffled. That’s all I can really tell you.” I wished I had paid better attention to it, but everything had happened so fast.
“Did you notice any accents or speech impediments?” he asked.
“No. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Did he sound calm, excited, or drunk maybe?”
“He was calm at first, quoting from the Bible. The second time”
“He’s called before?” he interrupted.
“Yes, earlier today . . . and I think it was a guy I threw out earlier.” I answered.
“Was it the same guy?” he asked.
“I think so. He was harassing a young lady and-”
“If he calls back, listen for background noise, ask him the location of the bomb, just keep him on the line as long as you can and try to record the conversation.”
“Is that it?” I asked.
“Yes. We will send out a unit right now, but if you hear anything in the meantime, call me back.”
“Thank you,” I said as he hung up the phone. He may not have taken the threat seriously, but I did. I had to clear the club, but I couldn’t say it was because of a bomb. I had to find a way to get everyone out without causing a panic.
Then there was a knock at the office door. I got up from the desk and answered it.
“I’m Bill Johnson from Atom Electronics. I just got finished installing those security cameras in the back parking lot. I got my bill here.”
“OK, just go upstairs and to the door on the left.” I said, directing him to Sherry’s office. “She’ll pay you there.”
I sat back down at the desk and the thought hit me. Bill Johnson gave me the perfect idea.
I walked out front and instead of being on the stage playing, Dexter was at the bar talking to Carmen. That stung a little, but it gave me the opportunity to take stage without causing too much of a fuss.
I tapped the mic a few times to test it and then I said, “Attention employees and customers. We are experiencing a minor electrical problem. It’s nothing to worry about, but we need to clear the building. We will open at our regular time tomorrow and we are sorry for the inconvenience.”
I gave everyone a few minutes to get outside. I made a run-through of the entire club to make sure it was empty. I only ran into a few stragglers. Once I explained the situation again, they politely made their way to the exits. When we finally got all of the customers out, I addressed the employees.
They were less than enthused.
“I’m leaving!” Joey shouted.
“Why we still here, man. Let us go home.” Dexter said as he began packing up his saxophone.
“I’ve got a family!” Mona chimed in from behind.
“I’m not asking anyone to stay,” I assured them. “I’m just letting you know the situation. You are all free to go. I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” I blatantly lied. “But I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
I excused everyone to get his or her belongings and to meet at the front of the club in five minutes. The bomb was scheduled to go off at ten o’clock, thus we had just under an hour to evacuate. I couldn’t take a chance on a maniac having a cheap watch, so I hurried them along as fast as I could.
Within about ten minutes, I was alone. I closed down the cash register and headed for my office. I made sure the back doors were locked.
The cash office was upstairs right next to Phil’s office, so I would grab my coat and lock the door before I left. I went to pick up the package that was left for me, but it was gone. Before that could alarm me, something else caught my attention.
I could smell smoke. I turned around and I could see smoke coming from upstairs. Smoke was coming from everywhere and in a matter of seconds, all I could see was smoke. My eyes began to well with tears. I was totally disoriented. Trying to find something to hold on to was practically impossible. I had to get out. I was blind from the smoke. My lungs started to fill and I began to cough. Through my watery eyes, all I could see was the gray smoke engulfing me.
That was the last thing I remembered.
Chapter 5
When I woke up, there were two paramedics standing over me. They sat me up and began asking me questions. I wanted to know what was going on, and they were asking me questions.
“Do you know what day it is?” one of them asked.
“Do you know where you are?” asked the other.
“Yes, I’m fine. Can somebody tell me what’s going on?” I asked as I tried to stand. I easily made it to my feet, but when I tried to walk, I almost fell on my face. Luckily, the paramedics were right there to catch me.
“Just have a seat right here. Don’t try to move. You’ve got a pretty nasty bump on your head,” said the slightly balding pudgy paramedic with a stethoscope around his neck.
My head was throbbing. I placed my left hand behind me to hold myself up and with my right I felt the huge bump on the back of my head.
What had happened, and why wasn’t anybody telling me anything?
A third paramedic walked into the office and whispered something to the tall blond paramedic who was helping me keep my balance. Through the open door, I could see scores of policemen. I could hear cries coming from the lounge. The third man left after a few nods and whispers. I couldn’t have imagined what had happened.
“What’s going on, guys?” I asked again.
They exchanged blank stares silently questioning who had the responsibility of explaining the situation to me. Finally one of them answered, “I think the police should tell you.”
My head throbbed even more as I tried to figure out what was going on and why wasn’t anyone telling me anything. They hastily gathered their equipment, helped me up and into Phil’s chair, and left me alone in the office.
Through the office door window, I saw the two paramedics that had been helping me, talking to an officer. The short pudgy-faced officer broke from them and walked towards the office.
“You Michael Drake?” he asked as he walked in.
“Yes, officer. What’s going on here?”
He looked me up and down for a second and answered, “I’m Officer Green. Can you tell me anything about what happened tonight?”
“The last thing I remember I was walking in here to get my coat. After that, everything is a blur until a few minutes ago.”
“There was a robbery.”
“A robbery?” I asked.
“Yes sir, a robbery. I need to ask you a few questions. Are you up to it?”
I knew I couldn’t say no even though I felt like my head was about to explode. I felt like I had been run over by a three hundred pound linebacker. “Yeah, go ahead,” I answered.
“You received a bomb threat earlier this evening. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“What time was that?”
“I think it was around seven or eight o’clock.” Just as I answered Phil quietly walked into the office.
“How soon afterwards did you call the police?”
“Immediately, I -”
“He should have called me,” Phil interrupted.
“Look, I did what I thought was right!” I shouted.
“No! You didn’t think. You never do. You make guesses. If you had followed procedure, none of this would have happened!” he yelled back. He seemed to be overly emotional over the loss of a little cash.
Typical.
“Mr. Reighton, can I have a word with you outside?” the officer asked. “Mr. Drake, just wait right here and I’ll be back directly,” he said as he escorted Phil out of the office.
I watched them from the small office window. I had never seen Phil so irate. I had seen him lose his temper, but that was different. He was visibly shaken, crying, yelling and almost inconsolable. The officer grabbed his arm and tried to finish talking to him, but Phil jerked away and continued to yell as he pointed in my general direction.
The door to the cash office opened and out came a slender white man with a pencil thin mustache and glasses. He was taking off what looked like doctor’s gloves. I assumed he was looking for fingerprints. I wouldn’t have even noticed him except that he walked over and started talking to Officer Green.
The officer said something else to Phil and walked into the office with the slender man. Phil glanced my way and walked into the break room. They probably thought I had something to do with it, and with my financial situation I couldn’t have blamed them.
After a few minutes, a tall black man in a suit came out of the cash office with Green and the other officer behind. My attention quickly shifted to what followed them. There were two paramedics carrying a stretcher from upstairs. I couldn’t see the identity of the covered body, and I couldn’t imagine who it was. I was sure I had been the only one in the club. Maybe they had caught the guy who tried to rob us. Relieved, I sat back down into Phil’s chair.
Not more than a few minutes had passed when the large man walked into the office.
“Mr. Drake, I’m Detective Williams. Can I ask you a few questions?” Williams was the same gentleman I had seen a few minutes ago. He was a powerfully built black man who looked like he should have been sacking a quarterback instead of questioning me.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“How well did you know Sherry Allen,” he asked.
“I know her pretty well . . .is this about the robbery?”
“Not exactly-”
“Not exactly? Wasn’t that the robber being carried out on the stretcher?” I interrupted.
“Sherry Allen was found dead in her office.”
Chapter 6
“Dead . . . She was the one being carried out?” Stunned, I didn’t know what else to say. The room fell so silent I could hear my own heartbeat.
At first I wanted to call him a liar, but thought better of that impulse. She couldn’t have been dead. It seemed like I had just seen her.
“What time did you see her last?” he quizzed.
“It must have been around six thirty or seven o’clock when I called all the employees to the front of the club.”
“And you saw her at that time?”