Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

As I joined my uncle behind the bar serving beignets and pouring endless cups of coffee, I tried to lose myself in superficial exchanges about local politics and sports. I had mixed feelings about Alex’s request. As good as it was to see my old friend, I hated the circumstances. I hadn’t seen nearly enough of him since I left school and he had only recently moved to town. He always felt like this was home because of how much time he spent with my family and me. There wasn’t anything that he left in New Orleans that couldn’t be replaced, including his family.

After I dropped my second cup of coffee that morning, my uncle tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Pour me some of the good stuff and come over here and sit down.” I poured his usual, Ethiopia Yergacheffe, an exotic, medium bodied coffee that had a slight citrus aroma and tangy flavor, no cream or sugar. “Yeah,” he said as he took pleasure in the scent. “I’d spill my own blood before I’d waste one ounce of this.” After savoring his first sip he asked, “What’s on your mind this morning? Your old man?”

“No, I’ve got a decision to make and I don’t know how to go about it.” I answered as I fiddled with a pack of matches that sat on the table. “I know what I need to do and I know what I should do and that’s where I am with it.”

He took another sip of his coffee and said, “Every decision costs you something, Nephew. Are you willing to pay the cost or does the benefit out weigh it? That’s what you need to ask yourself.”

“Thanks. Look, can you keep an eye on the front for me until Joey gets here?”

“Sure. Don’t worry yourself, Nephew. Look here, most people end up regretting the decisions that they don’t make, not the ones that they do, but that’s a conversation for another day,” he said followed by a wink.

After brewing another pot, I left it on the counter and excused myself to Joey’s office, which was right behind the bar. I closed the door and sat down at her desk with hopes of filling out a deposit slip and paying a few bills. In my eyes, the desk was as cluttered as my thoughts, but she had her own filing system for everything.

As long as she knew where everything was and I didn’t, she would always have a job. It was just one of her silent protests. She wanted me to know how valuable she was so that maybe one day I would train her if I ever started working as a detective full time. I guess that I shouldn’t have complained. At least a silent protest was silent.

I picked up the first stack of papers that my hand fell on, and sighed as I flipped through each past due bill. When I took over the place a year ago, I had hoped to transform it from a seedy hole in the wall jazz club to a more upscale jazz themed cafe. The cash that I had spent faster than a Randy Johnson fastball and the only money that I had was a few thousand dollars that had been put away for my daughter to go to college. Even though it had been six months since I’d seen her, that money would remain off limits.

The previous owner supplied the local politicians with gambling, drugs, and hookers so he never had any worries, of course that was until someone killed him. Most of my cash went into bringing the building up to code. As with most things in Louisiana everything had two prices, the one for someone who was ready to play the game and the one for the suckers, better known as legitimate businessmen. I paid the honest man’s price and it nearly broke me.

On top of everything else, payroll was due on Friday. All decisions do cost something, but Alex offered me a job that I literally couldn’t afford to pass up.

Joey floated into the office about half past ten. As usual, I was unfazed by her tardiness which was just another of her silent protests, of course. She wore a light blue oxford shirt with blue jeans. Her brunette curls were pulled back in a ponytail and her fair skinned terminally cute face was makeup free. She had the type of face that even in twenty years, people would still be commenting on how cute she is.

“May I have my desk, Mr. Drake?” she asked sarcastically.

“Things are okay out front?” I asked as I freed her seat.

“It’s pretty much cleared out. The free coffee drinkers are gone and it’s still a little early for lunch. Your uncle said that he would see you tonight and Big Al is on his way inside. Do you want to bring me the bills so we can go over the receipts from last night?” she said as I stood just behind her.

“Later. I need you to call Mona and see if she can make it here for noon,” I said, as I looked at my watch.

“Well, Big Al is here. Why do we need Mona?”

“Big Al is going to be in the kitchen cooking and we need someone else to watch the floor. You and I have something to work on.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve taken a case. It’s just a little surveillance job.”

“Um-huh. Are we going to be paid this time?”

“We?”

“Whatever! You know that we . . . you can’t afford to work for free.”

“Sorry, I forgot to tell you,” I pulled the envelope out of my pocket. “He already paid us.” I tossed it on her desk and a few of the bills fell out onto the desk.

For the first time in a long time, she was speechless. I smiled and left her office.

She quickly followed.

“I know that I should just be happy that we are being paid, but who’s the client?” she asked with a face that couldn’t contain her smile as she followed me to my office upstairs.

“We?” I asked again.

She snickered and asked again, “Who is the client?”

I rested in chair and said, “First of all, this is a very sensitive case. You can’t discuss it with anyone.”

With eyebrow raised, she asked again, “Who is it?”

“Alex Williams.”

Silence

“The football player.”

Silence

“I had dinner with him and his wife a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah. You mean your friend with the white wife.”

“Yeah, that’s him, but you may not want to describe him like that the next time he comes in.” I said.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. You know me better than that. He is a very attractive man. If he was single . . .”

“Yeah right. Is this before or after your father has a heart attack? He would kill you if you brought a black man home.”

“What did he say when he met you?” she asked.

“He knew that you just worked for me,” I quickly responded.

“Whatever,” looking at the money she asked, “Are you sure you should be doing this? Aren’t you friends with both of them?”

“I thought about that. It’s just a job. That’s the way that I’m looking at it. If I’m not objective, I can ruin the lives of two people that I really care about. It’s just business.”

“But isn’t it wrong?” she asked as she ran her finger along the large bookshelf that ran along the front wall of my office before finally settling in the chair right in front of my desk. “This lady trusts you. You don’t feel some sense of betrayal towards her?”

Whether I liked it or not, Joey was like my moral conscience. For the past five years or so, she had been like a little cartoon angel that sat on my shoulder proselytizing me, so I wasn’t very surprised by her reaction.

“Joey, it’s work. I know the situation with the bills and we need something to help keep this place running until we start making money. We need this.”

“We?” she asked.

“Like you said, I do know her. That would be a problem if she knew that I was following her. I can’t risk her seeing me,” I paused. “So I’ll need your help on this one.”

“Really? Are you serious? I don’t know what to say. Really?”

“You have been after me for the last year to train you. I guess this is the time. I really believe that Alex is just being paranoid and there’s nothing there. Pack up my equipment while I make a quick call. As soon as I’m done, we have got to get started.”

She nodded and closed the door behind her. I picked up the phone to call my mother.

“Hello.” Jordan answered.

“Put your grandmother on the phone,” I said. He didn’t say anything. I heard him lay the phone down and run to get her.

She picked up and said, “Michael?”

“It’s me. Jordan was sick today so I told him to stay home. I was running late-”

“He don’t act like he’s sick,” she interrupted in a distrustful motherly tone.

“He had a temperature and I think that he said his stomach hurt.” I said, cringing with each lie.

“You might just have to drop him off at school cause I have to make a cake for Sister Grace at the church. You know, her sister died Friday? And I’ve got some sewing to do and you know that your father is not going to be any help. If this boy starts to get in my way . . .”

“Mom, I would hate for us to have to go pick him up if he starts feeling bad again. Please just do the best that you can and I’ll be there to pick him up around five o’clock."

“Well, . . . I guess so. Make sure that you are on time. Have you talked to your father lately?”

“Okay then, Mom, I need to go. I’m expecting a food delivery in a few minutes so I better run. I’ll see you around five. Bye,” and I hung up. I didn’t need or want a lecture about my relationship with my father.

Joey walked in and said, “I’m ready when you are. Mona can be here in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” I asked.

“I still don’t think it’s right,” she responded.

Even though I’d never admit it to her, I didn’t like it either.