Deliver Me From Evil Page 10

  Wade fired up a joint and took a long drag before he answered. “Woman, how many times do I have to tell you that you need to talk to him again? Put on them sunglasses, and let’s take a little trip down to a pay phone. And one far away from here. We can’t take no chance on none of them busy hoes overhearing nothing, or seeing you and me together and getting nosy.”

  Jason had borrowed one of his lady friend’s battered old Honda Civic. He did the driving as we rode around for about twenty minutes, looking for a pay phone where there was not that much traffic. I was hunched down in the backseat with Wade. He had his arm around my neck, holding on to me like he was afraid I might leap out of the car.

  That thought had entered my mind.

  “Now, when you talk to this rich-ass nigger, don’t forget—you need to sound real desperate. We need to get this thing situated here so we can make some real plans. Shit,” Wade said as soon as the car stopped.

  He led me by the hand like I was a blind woman to a pay phone at the corner, near a deserted building on Telegraph. There was a funeral home across the street. “Shit,” Wade grunted when he saw the mortuary’s sign and a big black hearse parked on the street. “I need for you to make this conversation short and sweet. This is some bad Karma around here. This place gives me the creeps,” he said, releasing my hand.

  He fished a few coins out of his pants pocket, counted, and cursed under his breath. “Baby, give me a quarter,” he ordered. I didn’t say a word as I rooted around in my purse and found some loose coins and handed them all to him. He dropped what he needed to into the pay-phone slot and then slid the rest into his pants pocket. With the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Wade dialed my husband’s number. He screwed up his face and held his breath like he was about to deliver the performance of a lifetime. And I guess he was.

  He cupped the receiver in his hand as he spoke in a low voice, which he didn’t do too good of a job disguising. “Listen carefully. Don’t try to trace this call, and don’t say nothing stupid. Are you alone? Good! Did you see them pictures of your wife we took? Good! Uh-huh. Yeah, man, she is still alive and kicking. Now how long she’s going to remain alive and kicking is up to you, my man.”

  Wade made a face at the telephone like he wanted to break into it. But, instead, he handed it to me. Then he did a strange thing. He pressed his finger against my forehead, like it was the barrel of a gun, and made a clicking noise with his tongue. I didn’t know whose benefit that ominous little gesture was for. It meant nothing to me, and Jesse Ray couldn’t see it. But I still didn’t like it. I snatched the telephone and turned my back to Wade.

  “Honey … honey, it’s me.” I threw in a few sniffles before I started crying. “Hon … honey … I want to come home,” I sobbed, a real lump rising in my throat. I was amazed that I was able to squeeze out some real tears.

  “Oh my God, Christine! Oh my God!” In all the years that I’d known Jesse Ray, this was the first time I’d heard him cry.

  I stopped crying, and I let a few moments of silence pass before I responded. “J.R., they … they are going to kill me if you don’t pay them the money.”

  “Aarrrggghhhh!”

  “J.R., please stop crying. I love you, and I want to be back with you. Please pay them the money so I can come home,” I pleaded. Wade gestured for me to do some more boo-hooing myself. “Honey, they said they were going to rape me first,” I sobbed, but I was not as hysterical as Jesse Ray was. “And please don’t call the police! They’ve got a gun! I don’t want to die!” I wailed.

  “Baby, listen to me! You be strong.” Jesse Ray sounded like he was choking on his own words. “We are going to get through this thing, and everything is going to be all right. I swear to God it is!” he vowed.

  “You … you are going to pay them the money then?” I asked. “They … they are getting real mad.”

  “Put whoever’s in charge back on the phone! Put him back on the telephone right now!” Jesse Ray commanded. “I want to end this shit right now!”

  I handed the telephone back to Wade.

  “Yeah,” Wade said, with a grunt. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Huh?” he gave me a stunned look and held the telephone away from his face. A look that included a mysterious smile crossed his face as he cleared his throat and prepared to speak into the receiver again. I glanced at Jason, who was standing next to the car, with a look on his face that was so smug, it looked like it had been painted on. It didn’t take long for his expression to change. He gave me a cold look and pointed to his watch. I held my arm up to Wade and tapped my watch. He responded by holding up his hand in my face. “Now listen, my man. I want you to repeat what you just told me to your little wife here,” Wade said, then put the telephone up to my ear.

  “J.R., it’s me, baby,” I mumbled, my voice sounding as weak as a newborn kitten’s.

  “Christine, honey. I can’t stand this. I love you; I love you; I love you. I told him if he turns you loose unharmed, I’d give him double what he’s asking for. And, that means he can’t rape you or even touch you in the wrong place. Has he already—”

  “No, I haven’t been raped or touched or anything … yet,” I croaked.

  “And … and I told him I’d give it to him today if I could, but I need time to work this out with my banker. Please be strong, baby. We are going to get through this all right!”

  “J.R., did I hear you right? You told him you’d give him a million dollars?” I mouthed, sounding stronger than I should have. I realized that immediately. “A … million … dollars?” I asked, speaking in a weak voice again. I got so light-headed, I stumbled. Wade threw his arms around my waist just in time to keep me from falling to the ground.

  “They can have every dime I got if they want it. I just want this thing to be over with. I swear to God, I will make this up to you. We’ll go off somewhere so you can relax and put this behind you!”

  “I … I want to come home, honey. I don’t care what you have to do for them to let me go.” I handed the phone back to Wade. He had such a satisfied look on his face, you would have thought that he’d won the lottery. And, in a way, that was exactly the case.

  But I had one immediate concern: now that Jesse Ray was going to pay double what I’d expected, how much of an increase was Wade going to expect?

  “Ten o’clock,” Wade said, looking at the cheap watch on his wrist. “I will call you at ten o’clock sharp on Friday morning at the same number. If you got my money, I’ll tell you where to drop it off. Once I get it, I’ll call you exactly one hour from the pickup time and tell you where you can pick up your woman. Don’t try nothing cute! Don’t try to punk me with no money that can be traced or nothing like that. I want used bills, all hundreds, fifties, and twenties. Don’t even think about involving the cops … I know where everybody in your family lives. Any questions?”

  “No,” Jesse Ray muttered.

  “Now you have a nice day, brother. And look on the bright side. I don’t care what you pay out. You’ll still have enough bling to keep living like a king. You ain’t never going to be as broke as some of us.”

  I gave Wade a sharp look and gestured for him to hang up.

  He finally hung up and looked at me long and hard. “Girl, you sure you want to leave this goose? I didn’t know it was going to be this easy to get him to pay us. If I was you, I’d stick to this nigger like white on rice. He got insurance?”

  “Yes, he’s got all kinds of insurance,” I stated. “That precious main store is insured up the wazoo. Fire, earthquake, theft, vandalism.”

  “I am not talking about that kind of insurance,” Wade said, waving his hand. “I’m talking about life insurance.”

  He looked away when I looked at him, with my mouth hanging open. “We take what he’s offering. Nothing more,” I said in an angry voice.

  “All I asked is whether or not he got insurance,” Wade said, with a pout. “I’m just curious.”

  “Jesse Ray’s well insured,” I said. “But if yo
u’re thinking about doing something to him so you can get your hands on that insurance money, too, you can get that out of your thick head right now. I would never hurt Jesse Ray for money.”

  Wade and Jason looked at each other and snickered.

  “You don’t want to hurt the brother? Well, baby, I got news for you. I think it’s a little bit too late to start worrying about hurting old J. R. Thurman,” said Wade. He laughed again and winked at me. “Girl, if punking a black man out of a million dollars ain’t going to hurt him, I don’t know what will.”

  “Fuck me! A whole one million fucking dollars? Shit, I ain’t never even seen more than a few hundred at a time in my whole life! I … I wonder what the fuck a million goddamn dollars look like stacked up all nice and neat? Shit!” Jason could barely contain himself in the car on the way back to the motel. No matter how I looked at it, the fact that this man was part of my plan made me extremely uncomfortable. “And tax free at that!”

  “One million dollars. Uh-huh. That’s what the man said,” Wade shrieked, slapping his knee. “Ooh wee!” His involvement was beginning to disturb me, too. “Looks like Christmas is coming early this year. Thank God I’ve been a gooood boy.”

  I was in the backseat, alone this time, huddled in a corner, with the baseball cap still hiding my hair and the sunglasses hiding my eyes. I was glad that I was in disguise. I was glad that nobody could see the concern on my face or know what was going through my head. This new development gave me even more to worry about.

  Traffic was heavy, and there were a lot of people on the street. Even though I was disguised, I was afraid that someone I knew would see me hunched down in the backseat of the car and would recognize me, anyway. I knew that that was unlikely, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I had taken enough already. I hunched down some more, so low that I was practically lying on the seat.

  When we stopped at a red light on Alcatraz, not far from my husband’s video store, I slid down even farther in my seat. I almost shit my pants when somebody ran up to the car and tapped on the window. I closed my eyes and held my breath.

  “Get your spic ass away from this car!” Wade yelled, slapping the window.

  I opened my eyes and looked up. A young Latino man stood next to the car, waving a cheap watch in one hand and a used DVD in the other. He frowned at Wade, then looked at me with a leer on his face.

  “And don’t be eyeballing my woman, amigo!” Wade hollered, slapping the window again. “How come you so quiet back there, baby?” Wade asked as we drove off, turning his head around just far enough so he could see me. There was a glazed look on his face. His jaw twitched. He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips, moaning under his breath the same way he did when he went down on me. It was no wonder that the only other time I’d seen such a look of ecstasy on Wade’s face was during sex. “You ought to be shouting for joy! I can’t believe my woman is going to be a fucking millionaire!”

  I didn’t like hearing Wade refer to me as his woman. In all the years that I’d been hopping in and out of bed with him, he had never referred to me that way. And, it was all because of the money. Money that I truly felt I deserved and couldn’t get from my husband any other way.

  It amazed me how money could have such a profound effect on people. I never thought that I would see the day that it would mean so much to me that I would be a part of something this extreme.

  “A million dollars is not that much money in this day and age, Wade,” I said in a strained voice.

  “Oh, no! You are hella funny, baby! To you, it might not be. You been living so close to it for quite a while now. A big, fancy house in the hills, a husband with his own business, credit cards up the asshole … Everything I ever wanted!” Jason said, adjusting the rearview mirror so he could see me better. I didn’t like the hungry look on his face, not that I liked any other look on his face, either.

  “Tell me about it, my man!” Wade yelled, waving his hands like a country preacher. It seemed like everything Wade did or said now annoyed me.

  “Uh, I’ll have to decide exactly how much I want to keep now,” I said, sitting up and moving close to the edge of the seat. Jason and Wade looked at each other at the same time.

  Jason reacted in a way that made him turn two shades darker. “So? And what the fuck are you trying to tell us?” he asked, talking so loud, my ears rang.

  “I mean, I could sure use the additional money, and I know both of you could, too,” I said meekly. “The pie is a lot sweeter and bigger now. Uh, but y’all don’t have to worry, because you’ll get paid.”

  Wade and Jason looked at each other at the same time again, each one frowning like he was in pain. “Get paid? Get paid? What the hell! Woman, what’s wrong with you? You goddamn right we are going to get paid! And we better get paid right! Tell us what the hell you mean by that,” Jason demanded through clenched teeth, his eyes back on the road now. “Man, I knew this bitch was cuckoo when you told me what she was cooking up, but I didn’t know she was this damn crazy.”

  “Well, to be honest with you, baby, me and Jason are the ones that’s been taking the most risks,” Wade told me. He looked out the window as he spoke, like he was afraid to look in my eyes now.

  “What risks?” I asked, gripping the back of the front seat.

  Wade twisted around to face me, making it look like his head was on backwards. He blinked and then glared at me. “Woman, don’t play dumb. You know damn well that if this thing falls apart, me and my boy here are the ones who will likely end up in the joint,” Wade insisted, talking with his lips barely moving.

  “If things fall apart, I’m in trouble, too. I could lose everything, including my freedom,” I insisted.

  “Just as long as you treat me fair, I ain’t going to complain,” Jason said, with a groan.

  “What do you call fair?” I wanted to know, my anger rising.

  “What the hell do you think I mean? I am in this thing just as deep as you, and I expect to get paid for my troubles. That’s the deal!” Jason yelled, swerving to avoid hitting a man on a bike.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, brother. You ain’t Batman, and this ain’t the Batmobile,” Wade barked, grabbing the steering wheel. Riding in a car with Jason behind the wheel was like riding on a roller coaster. A few seconds later, he turned a corner on two wheels. I looked at him in the rearview mirror. That single serpent’s tooth at the top of his mouth looked like a stiletto now.

  “Like I said, I made a deal here!” Jason hollered, still driving like a madman.

  “A deal between you and Wade,” I reminded.

  “But you the one getting the money! Wade ain’t the one controlling this project, girl. That’s you! We can’t get nothing without you!”

  “You got that right. But like I said, your deal is between you and Wade. I didn’t make any arrangements with you, Jason.” I was so angry, I was about to explode. “I want to make sure you understand that whatever you get is up to Wade. You are not getting a damn dime from me!” I boomed.

  Wade glanced around at me, then back at Jason. “Brother, you ain’t got nothing to worry about. I told you I was going to break you off real nice. Now I will just break you off a little bigger piece of the pie.” Wade exhaled and turned to look at me again. “Happy?”

  I stared at him and blinked before I nodded.

  But I was a long way from being happy. I was glad that Jason got us stuck in a traffic jam and that the car had come to a complete stop. I reared back in my seat and closed my eyes, but I knew I was not about to go to sleep.

  I had too much to think about—past, present, and future.

  CHAPTER 21

  One of the happiest periods in my life began about six months after my fifteenth birthday. I finally got to know what real love felt like. Not with another lover, but with someone who was probably as starved for affection as I was: an old woman who had already buried three husbands and had one foot in the grave herself.

  Odessa Wheeler moved into the apartment across
the hall from me and my parents. The same week she moved in, I began doing all kinds of errands for her to earn a little extra spending money. Even though I had no trouble stealing the things I wanted (including the portable color television in my bedroom), I actually felt good about myself when I paid for something with money I’d earned.

  Every time I ran to the corner store to pick up this or that for Miss Odessa or when I helped her move a piece of furniture, she paid me a few dollars and often gave me a big hug, too. “Christine, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are precious,” she told me one Saturday afternoon. I left in a hurry after she told me that because I didn’t want her to see the tears in my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time somebody said something so nice to me.

  It didn’t take long for me to reach a point where I looked forward to the hugs more than I did the money. This was so new to me that I didn’t know how to handle it at first. It made me want to avoid a lot of the people who had had a negative effect on me. Sadly, this included my parents.

  “Now, Christine. Today is Mother’s Day, and you should be spending it with your own mother,” Miss Odessa told me. I had just steamrolled into her living room that Sunday evening, with a Mother’s Day card for her.

  “My mother doesn’t celebrate Mother’s Day,” I said glumly, handing Miss Odessa the card, which I’d bought at Walgreen’s and which had set me back three dollars.

  “That’s not the point. She is still your mother,” Miss Odessa told me, fanning her face with the card.

  Miss Odessa was so old, her hair was completely white and lines crisscrossed her face like a road map. But I figured that she must have been a good-looking woman once upon a time to have had three husbands. She had small, dainty features on a heart-shaped face, and her skin was the same color as honey. She was not a big woman, but what was left of her body had begun to sag so severely that bras and girdles did her no good. Decked out in a pale blue cotton dress and the matching hat that she’d worn to church that morning, she stood in front of me, with one hand on her lumpy hip and the other hand waving the Mother’s Day card at me.