Turning Angel

Drew’s trial is over. I won’t be able to investigate further for Quentin. He’ll be facing the trial in two days with little or no good information. A private detective hired at this point won’t be able to learn anything meaningful. And that’s why I’m here-to ensure Drew’s conviction.

The side effects of my kidnapping will be more personal. Unless Cyrus demands some sort of ransom, my family will believe I’ve been murdered. My father and mother. Annie…

”You gonna be on the nod most of the time,“ Cyrus says. ”That week’s gonna go by like a day for you. Maybe two. You ain’t gonna get hungry, you ain’t gonna get horny…you just gonna get happy. Numb, baby. The weight of the world gonna be lifted off your shoulders. You gonna be thanking me.“

”And when the trial’s over?“

He shrugs. ”That’s up to you.“

”You’re going to let me go?“

”If I wanted you dead, you’d be lying in that alley behind the restaurant.“

”I don’t get it. From what I hear, you’re not a half measures kind of guy.“

Cyrus begins cracking his knuckles, starting with his left forefinger. He maintains his squat as effortlessly as a Major League catcher during this operation.

”I tell you how it is,“ he says. ”I’m thorough, all right. I checked you out. You ain’t no civilian. You sent a lot of people to Huntsville Prison. Bangers, killers, Klan, everything. And about five years ago, you damn near got the head of the FBI sent to jail.“

It’s true. Of course, the crime committed by the FBI director was not committed as director, but as a field agent assigned to Mississippi in 1968.

”I kill you,“ Cyrus says, ”there’d be consequences.“

This is a nice idea, but probably untrue. My father would likely commit the rest of his life to finding out who had murdered me, but no nationwide quest for vengeance by a cabal of powerful cops would result. There’s an ex-Delta Force operator who might get upset about my demise, but he has a living to make. Although now that I think about it, Daniel Kelly might just take it into his head to get some payback if I were murdered. And anybody with Kelly on his ass truly has a problem.

”Did Jaderious set me up?“ I ask.

Cyrus stands and walks over to the counter where the TV and microwave stand. ”We got Lean Cuisine and Dr Pepper. Got some Dannon in that fridge over there. You take what you need. But don’t be getting up in my Pringles. Got it?“

”Leave your Pringles alone.“

Cyrus looks at Blue and says, ”He’s smart, ain’t he?“

Blue’s big belly rolls with laughter.

”You just bide your time,“ says Cyrus. ”Enjoy the ride. When the trial’s over, if you’ve been a good boy, you can leave here the way you come.“

”Good as new?“

”A little rehab, maybe. Or you can become a customer. I wouldn’t blame you. Not many people can chase the dragon and walk away. It’s too good. Like classy white pussy gone bad.“

”Why do you want to keep me high?“ I ask, genuinely puzzled. ”Why not just lock me in here?“

”‘Cause this is where I’m staying part of the time. And I don’t need you bugging me, trying head games and shit. You on the nod, it’s less stress on you and me both. For me it’ll be like you ain’t even here. You’ll be like a pet dog or something. You okay with that?“

”Fine.“ If I’m still alive, I’m okay with just about anything.

”I thought so. But you listen, right?“ Cyrus points at me ”I don’t want to kill you. But I will. Understand? You cause me any kind of shit, you become even a minor inconvenience, and I’ll send you right back to the void. Clear?“

”Clear.“

”And don’t even think about not taking the dust. ’Cause I know how to hurt a motherfucker. So does my crew.“

I don’t reply.

Cyrus takes a cup of yogurt from the fridge and rips off the foil top. ”After two or three days, you gonna be begging for the shit anyway. Wait and see. You won’t want to live without it.“

”How do you come and go from here?“ I ask. ”Don’t they have security?“

Cyrus spoons yogurt into his mouth. ”Triton’s got an old nigger manning the guardhouse at night. He works for me, though, not those motherfuckers.“

How much more perfect could it get? Cyrus can live in relative luxury two miles from town, and keep tabs on his drug business without any fear of discovery by the police.

”Me and Blue gotta make a couple runs tonight,“ he says, setting down his yogurt. ”So it’s time to hit you up again. Don’t make us hold you down. You do that, you gonna pay a price.“

I tell myself not to resist the injection, but when Cyrus starts cooking the heroin, my adrenaline begins to pump. When he picks up a loose syringe off the counter, I can’t help but back away.

”Fuck!“ Cyrus mutters. ”Blue?“

Blue pulls a small revolver from his pocket and points it at me. He forces me into the nearest corner, then cracks the gun against my left shoulder with deceptive speed. My arm goes numb from shoulder to wrist.

”Lay down, now,“ he says in a surprisingly mild voice. ”Ain’t no use fighting. Just gon‘ make it worse on you self.“

”Has anybody else used that needle?“

Cyrus shakes his head. ”It’s the same one I used on you in the van. Come on. We’re running late. Don’t make me hurt you.“

Fighting all my natural instincts, I lie on the sleeping bag and let Blue squeeze my biceps to pump up my antecubital vein. Cyrus slips in the needle again, no pain whatever. As a test, I begin counting softly. When I hit seven, the rush begins. Again it starts in my belly, then spreads outward through my limbs. A heat like the warmth of plunging into a woman envelops my entire body.

”Is it good?“ asks Blue. ”How you feel?“

”Like a jellyfish,“ I murmur. ”But I’m part of the water.“

”Most people say it’s like their mama’s womb.“

I nod in vague agreement. ”Could be…don’t remember.“

Blue giggles like a little boy.

”I get back to the womb another way,“ Cyrus says. ”Right, Blue?“

”Oh, yeah. Best way there is.“

”Maybe I can remember,“ I think aloud. ”Go back in time, you know?“

”No,“ Cyrus intones. ”Don’t work that way.“ He kneels beside the sleeping bag and lifts my sagging chin until I’m looking into his deep black eyes. ”Let me tell you ’bout time, brother. I done some reading on that shit. People say time be like a river. That’s bullshit. You can swim upstream and downstream in a river. Can you do that with time? Hell, no. Time ain’t no river. Time is a big fucking razor blade scraping across the universe. And the edge of that razor is now. See? That’s all there is, man. No upstream or down, no past or future- just now. And all the stuff we feel, like hoping and feeling sorry for shit, that’s nothing. Useless. Nothing matters in this world but now.“

”I…understand your metaphor,“ I manage to slur. ”But things we do in this now can change our reality in the later now. See? That’s why…why what we do matters.“

Cyrus stares at me, working out my logic. Then he shakes his head. ”You missing the point, dog. It’s ‘cause you’re on the dust. That’s the only thing that can take away the now. Dust blurs it, like. Stretches it out into this big warm blanket. That’s why people kill to get it.“

”No,“ I whisper, but my grip on reason is fading fast. ”This stuffis the now. It takes away the past and future. It’s the only thing that can.“

Cyrus laughs. ”Oh, yeah. You way up in the good now.“

”Am I?“ I ask, wondering if I’m speaking at all.

Cyrus stands. ”Sleep tight, brother. Enjoy the ride.“