The Hired Gun Ch. 07

"But I am going to call you auntie for the rest of your life; so, are you going to tell me he's up there in your suite or not?"

"Are you gonna beat on him?"

"I thought about it, but I've already taken a pound of flesh out of him that you don't need to know about. Let's just say that he's as dirty as we are these days. Would you like that money back you had stashed inside that safe?"

"Take it as fair trade for all the trouble I've caused you; and also, for the stuff we didn't get to shoot this weekend even though I got it in with your cousin and that Andre boy. Say, did you ever find out where Andre slipped off to, this afternoon?"

"Find my phone had Jaquan at the location I sent him to for a minute and I was gonna head over, but then his car started moving a little while ago before I pulled up. Whatever happened with those two will come up at some point. If things went south, I would know about it. Jaquan's car is right outside his house as of ten minutes ago."

"So, what now?"

"I've got one more stop and then...maybe I'll sleep for a day."

"You can have a key to my presidential suite; I've got it for a few days, but I'm flying out at first light."

"You're not going to that luxury condo and that cushy gated community, are you?" Esther leaned into my side wearily gazing out of the window as she pressed one of her key cards into my palm as payment for being her rock in a time of infinite crisis.

"I'll drop you a line wherever I land, and we can get that last good video shot; how's that sound, Mr. Educated Simp?"

Instead of answering I took her hand in mine giving it a light reassuring squeeze.

As far as I was concerned, it was a handshake deal, our last. She slowly got up and walked away pigeon toed heading back to the elevators and her estranged soon to be ex-husband. I didn't look, instead feeling the diminishing weight of our mutual drama. I thought about my further excoriation from both sides of the family with a heavy heart. Aunt Esther aka Mz. Giggles was officially in the wind, retired.

My phone chirped with a message sent hours ago, but unseen due to my phone being set on silent.

It was my mother.

"Son, I know you've been going through a lot over the past few months, what with losing your girlfriend and all, but this has got to stop. Your uncle showed up to my house with a bunch of your foolish cousins and his brother Ezekiel looking for you. I didn't tell them nothing, and then I realized I really didn't know anything... I don't even know where you live. You know what? I'm okay with that, son. I don't wanna know what kind of mess you've made of your life and yourself. I realize... I DON'T KNOW YOU!! Whoever you are, if you find my boy out there in the streets; SEND HIM HOME! Until then, stay lost."

The message ended.

I sat in the lobby looking out of the large window at the valet parking lot, alone.

*****

It was just prior to the crack of dawn when I made it to the park for what I thought would be my morning run to get things back on track after a weekend of endless drama. Instead, I found myself sitting there on the short hill overlooking the track, still emotionally exhausted. The overhead park lights were still on throwing an orangish glow on the surrounding park and adjacent wooded areas. I kind of missed the park the way it used to be when I was growing up. I recalled riding my bike over here from my aunt's house with a bunch of neighborhood kids. Jaquan's mother, my legitimate auntie, trusted me not to get into any trouble without question or coercion.

Bike got stolen by some gang bangers.

Jaquan got it back in less than thirty minutes with a minimum of fuss likely through his popularity on the block and the fact my cousin had a Glock in the trunk.

That was years ago and now I had no fear of coming to this park which was undergoing active renovations from a formerly neglectful city since the surrounding neighborhood was being bought up in wholesale chunks due to gentrification. I was just there to enjoy the place before the inevitable ethnic flush occurred. My rented home was secure, but a lot of my neighbors were not, and I would routinely see "people" milling about at odd hours of the day taking photos of some homes occupied or not.

I was emotionally blasted out after running an emotional gauntlet involving both sides of my family and the talent in the form of Andre 13.5. Dayna had been effectively collared and hopefully wouldn't be abusing him economically or otherwise once he returned home. He was "off the grid" with my cousin Jaquan, but I knew things would be okay. Me, that was another story after finding that I was effectively the villain of the story.

My mother said as much and meant it devastating my spirit.

"Say hello to the bad guy." I mused to no one in particular facepalming as I reclined on the grass at an angle on the hill overlooking the track. My heart was heavy, and I felt myself slipping away about to doze.

"HEY BOY!! GUD MAWNIN THERE!!" My hands were covering my face, but I knew who was speaking to me slowly uncovering them as I sat up on the grass.

Babbette was jogging by on the track waving happily in my direction.

"Good morning!" I waved back, meekly.

It was still early in the morning, but dawn was steadily approaching as I sat watching her run the track. Her hyper curvy figure looked incredible in this brightly colored Rasta print bra top and some crazy matching leggings with the same colors mostly in Aztec triangles. Babbette was a kinetic explosion of color which I was content simply to observe as she came barreling along the track in front of me.

"YUH RUNNING OR WATCHING?!!" She shouted with her arms tight to her sides crossed over her large breasts to keep the jiggling to a minimum. Her slender waist, wide hips and dense heart shaped donk was another story altogether. It was solid at the top, but visibly pillow soft at the bottom.

This woman was a whole snack, visually speaking.

I couldn't find my voice as she ran by hitting a sharp right turn speeding off. The spirit of competition was all over Babbette's person. I figured she was an athlete, but knew she had some secrets squirrelled away and I wasn't in a mood to play games at this point. It was the start of a new week, and I wanted a clean slate. All of the complications of the past few days were plain and simple now.

I laid back down looking up at the sky draping the back of my hand over my eyes, doing my best to relax. She ran by again and again as the early morning sunlight brightened things up a bit. My mind drifted to Mrs. Angela Gilbert, particularly the feverish hookups we'd engaged in over a two day period between separate shoots involving my auntie, Esther. Part of the plan was to hook up with her before things went awry with our exposure. I was taxed to the limit between the lines having to think on my feet.

"Hey bowy yuh nuh like wah yuh see?" Her accent was particularly thick.

I lifted the hand draping my eyes finding her legs in my immediate view. From the thighs down. Babbette had an impressive camel toe enhanced by the skintight leggings which gave me the impression she was going commando underneath. I angled my field of vision up finding the undersides of her large breasts with her face in the middle studying my own, inquisitively. Her hands were on her wide hips.

"That's a loaded question, Babbette."

"But it still a question; yaah guh ansah it?" She cocked her head to the side with a smile.

"Only if you answer a question for me?"

Babbette folded her arms under her bust looking off towards the parking lot at my side of the park for a few moments as a bird flew by overhead. she didn't answer directly, only nodding her acquiescence. I took those fleeting moments to study her face reading the story written on it sensing the familiar.

"Honestly speaking, I love everything in front of me from the top of those blonde locs to the mesh Rasta sneakers on your feet. As a matter of fact, I like the vibrant colors which make you a joy to watch in movement, almost a living rainbow. Definitely an athlete, but more of an intellect, on the down low. I guess it's hard to get people to take you seriously when you the wet dream of most, so you compensate. Yeah, you're sexy as fuck and I think it would be stupid of anyone to say otherwise, yet smart at the same time, Babbette. So, does that answer your question?"

"Damn bowy mi neva aks fi be profiled; yuh a op?" Babbette asked trying hard not to grin.

"I get that a lot these days; are you going to answer my question now, Babbette?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to keep talking to me with that fake accent, or use your real voice?"

I adjusted myself sitting on the grass in front of her wrapping my arms in front of my drawn up knees as she reacted facially to being called out. We exchanged glances as she put her hands on those excessive baby making hips looking around before meeting my gaze, playfully conflicted. I said nothing, patting a spot on the grass beside me facing the far end of the track and the basketball courts without looking at her face. Babbette fidgeted favoring a multi-colored beaded bracelet on her right wrist.

She planted her butt next to mine on the grass closer than I would've thought with a plucky smile on her face removing that beaded bracelet, rolling it in silent contemplation. Babbette glanced at my profile.

"How did you know?"

"I'm a reformed TV head; you were trolling everyone using that shitty accent from those old psychic hotline commercials. I uh, think the sister in those tv spots was named Ms. Cleo. Better watch yourself, Youree Dell Harris might hit you up with a cease and desist."

"She must really need the money if she's going to sue me from the pearly gates."

"She passed away?!"

"Yeah, the big C, unfortunately."

"Damn, I didn't know that shit; now I feel bad for making that joke." Babbette rested her crossed wrists on top of her drawn up knees still rolling the bracelet between her fingers therapeutically.

"I won't tell; but that's only on the condition that you keep my secret as well."

"Bullshit."

"HUH, WHAT?!" Babbette reacted energetically, half turning in my direction giving me a fleeting look at her deep cleavage. She traced the trajectory of my view, planting her hand over the exposed parts of her sweaty bust giving me a sarcastic look. Babbette turned back in profile sitting there with a smirk.

"I don't know you and I don't know anybody in your immediate circle. Why would I make a needless deal based on some shit that ain't never gonna happen?"

"I don't know; you just uh, do it because I asked nicely."

"Babbette?"

"Yeah?" She glanced over, finding me sitting there with a hand covering my heart, the other raised in overt mockery to the defunct pledge of allegiance.

"I promise that I won't tell anybody about your shitty fake Jamaican accent."

Her head dipped slapping against her folded arms on top of her knees as she burst into laughter for a few minutes. I watched betraying no emotion as she regained her composure, staring at me pensively.

"It used to be hard doing it, keeping up the pretense; you know? Now, I can uh, do it at the drop of a dime. I've been doing it since I was seven years old and well, I'm kinda trapped with the shit now."

"Just stop doing it."

"I can't do that; my mother would kick the ever loving shit out of me for playing in her face all those years. My students, peers, and some of my friends would drop me like a hot potato for that shit, too."

"Made your bed." I replied peering across the track towards the basketball courts. There was a kid's playground on the far side hidden by the opposite short hill and some trees and over growth.

"Yeah, you're right; I'll tell you this...I'm the daughter of a "hood chick" and a yardie, raised by my daddy in Jamaica. Luckily for me, my mom's got way too inebriated while my dad was giving her that limestone massage. Nine months later, I popped up while my dad was going through immigration. Mom wasn't gonna marry dad just yet, unfortunately for him. She was the "man of the house", and he was mister mom, but unfortunately dad got the bright idea of bringing his limestone massage business to the states, except without the fucking limestone; just his penis. Mom wasn't happy after seeing so many of her female neighbors, way too happy. Dad got booted after "somebody snitched" on him for overstaying his welcome. But hey, he got a really nice going away present...ME!"

"Brutal."

"Mom says she did it because she kept hearing "Everything's gonna be alright" blasting from a bunch of houses on the block. Dad loved playing that when they were doing it and mom used to blast the fuck out of that Bob Marley, after she got that work. Having a bunch of dusty bitches doing the same thing triggered the fuck out of her. Dad also went back home with an extra gift... a concussion from a big black skillet. I know she still loves him, because she plays the song every now and then. Tragic, right?"

"I've heard worse."

"Oh, is that right? Well, I used to get dragged back home in my country and bullied, but I'm my mother's daughter, too. A lot of guys and fucking out of pocket girls got these hands, mom's genetic gift to me besides my curves. I found out I like working out and sports as much as keeping my head in the books. Dad didn't want me to be a waste of space, so he made sure I was academically sound. I think it was personal for him because mom gave him the business after he cheated. I think he wanted to prove that he was a good dad, despite his proclivities. So, we worked hard together, family to the end."

"Where's your father now?"

"Jail."

"Oh uhm, sorry."

"Shit happens, but mom turned up for me; only I didn't see it that way. I ignored her for a few days when she brought me here, then she put them hands on me. So, I decided to be funny about it and started talking like fucking Ms. Cleo. She didn't get the joke. Mom thought I REALLY talked like that."

We stared at one another, then burst into laughter again.

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

"Nope."

"Why Babbette?"

"Since you say you're a reformed tv head, I'll put it this way; you ever seen that movie New Jack City?"

"Yeah, and?"

"If I were to tell my mother that I've been faking this accent since I was a kid; I'd get the same ass whipping Wesley Snipes got from fucking Ice T. All up and down the block, except worse man; my mother has a really nasty temper. That's shit's like a hurricane; uhm, kind of runs in the family, too."

"Yeah uh, I figured that out. Can I ask you another question, Babbette?"

"Shoot."

"Are we friends, or foes."

"What do you think?" She was being coy and playful, maybe flirting a little.

"I think you're leaving something out."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

I stared her in the eye for a few moments as some middle-aged guy with a dad bod ran by looking on the verge of a coronary, huffing and splashing sweat everywhere. He stole a clumsy glance at Babbette which went ignored during our mutual stare down. It was early in the morning, and I was in no mood.

"What's my stage name, Babbette?"

There was a moment of awkward silence as she looked elsewhere before turning back with a strained expression.

"The Educated Simp."

"That's right Babbette, that's what I'm called and it ain't for show. Since I don't think we'll be meeting again after today, I'll let you know the how. So, you contacted Andre through his Nintendo Switch and probably ubered him to your mom's house. You know I can track that game by calling customer service, right? You know when I put that location into a search engine, your mother's name popped up because she never moved off the block all these years. Probably ego, right? Well, your pretty face popped up in a graduation pic on social media, high school, I guess. By the way, some noob snapped a ton of pics of you two from the back when you took off your robe after the ceremony. Impressive curves, matching cakes. Your mom doesn't have social media, but you do...loved the Instagram page. So, Sister Jacobs is your auntie, huh?"

Babbette's face went static, then her brow furrowed.

"Yeah man; she's my auntie, bruh. My favorite auntie who actually knows my secret."

"Figured as much; so, what was the plan?"

"You popped up on social media too, bruh; I think that was real foul what you and your friends did to my aunt down at that shady church. Thanks to you and some other assholes who I can't find; my aunt is being harassed and hounded wherever she goes. There's a bunch of clips all over the internet, too; my personal favorite is "Grandma got Cakes" on WorldStar. Yeah, love that one, bruh. The reason I love that particular clip is because the excited simp somehow got you in frame with your digital camera."

"So, what was the plan, Babbette?"

"Reformed tv head, right?"

"Yup."

"Does Animal House ring a bell?"

"Tim Matheson's Otter being stomped out in a motel room by a rival frat including the honey trap girlfriend's impotent boyfriend, classic. So, I was supposed to be a pussy hound and a fucking simp?"

"That's what I thought."

"Okay, tell me what you know, Babbette."

"I don't want to cop to shit, bruh; your confidence around women is astounding. I can't believe I'm intrigued by you, but I am, and it is boggling the mind. I have a confession, too."

"Shoot."

"I jumped the shark."

"How?"

"The other day I turned up down here at the park looking for you with my students. I'm an assistant football coach among other things; wear a lotta hats, you see, bruh? I was tired of waiting for you to get in the web willingly, so I came here with some fellas to give you a Cooley high beatdown before stuffing you into a trunk for delivery to my auntie. She wants to talk to you bruh; kind of like a debriefing."

"Wasn't here." I added without malice or overt emotion.

"Yeah, I know; instead, we ran into your little friend, Jaquan. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he didn't know shit. All he wanted was some cookies, but he got punked and sent home with his tail between his legs, nuclear blue balls, for your information. I don't mess with innocents."

"Explain Andre."

"Fishing for you; thought I'd get him over to the house and get him to tell me where you live. I wasn't gonna hurt him; like I said, he's an innocent."

"Andre doesn't know where I live and neither does Jaquan; I just moved."

"Don't worry; I've had a moment of clarity earlier this morning, but you had to go and tug on that little bit of red tape. So now, we're putting it all on the table, huh?"

"Is that what you want, Babbette?"

"No time like the present."

"Be careful what you wish for because it could end up being a monkey's paw."

"I'm a big girl."

"We'll see." I pulled out my android while we were doing a slow burn akin to an old western duel. I wasn't anxious in the least bringing up my adult site offering her my phone.

"What's this?" Babbette looked apprehensive slightly recoiling from my android.

"Take it."

She sort of snatched it out of my hand looking at its face for a few moments as I watched her react involuntarily. She handled it with both hands staring intently for a few moments before dropping it to her side looking at me, brow furrowed even more. The look on her face reminded me of her mother who I'd seen for the briefest of moments before she gave me a one finger salute speeding off.

"Make sure you look at the time stamp on that pic."

"I did."

"You uh, know where that came from, right Babbette?" She looked like she didn't want to answer.

"Uhm..."

"Hey girl, you hold on to my phone for a minute and get yours out."

"Why?"

"Get your phone out, Babbette."

I watched her do a slow burn before sinking some fingers into her pronounced cleavage coming up with what looked like a burner phone.