Garlan unfurled from his seat, a slow and languid movement, a sail for a ghost ship. Naptown Red led the way to one of the empty meeting rooms.
'What you want, man?' Garlan took the seat nearest the window. Three stories up, he had a grand view of the comings and goings of the building. And of whoever passed back and forth in front of the meeting room.
'Can't a nigga be friendly?' Red scooted his seat to an angle, not wanting his back to the door.
'I got enough friends. When folks come around showing too many teeth, they have a way of reaching into your pocket.'
'I got a proposition.'
'What?'
'How are things with you and Rellik?' Red asked.
'What, you a headhunter now? Scouting talent for other crews?'
'Nah, setting up my own shop.'
'Shit. You must be crazy. In this economy?'
'Dealing, hell, fiends are recession-proof.'
'But Dred and Rellik ain't and I'm straight with Rellik.'
'A-ight, a-ight. I ain't trying to split you from your girlfriend.'
Garlan rose up. There was no heat in it, no posturing. Just boredom. He didn't have time for the penny-ante games of this fool. Having watched him at the parlay, Garlan thought he was worth hearing out. But if all he had were insinuations and weak insults, his time was better spent checking up on his crew.
'Chill, nigga. I'm kidding. How are you for jobs on the side?' Red asked.
'What you mean?'
'I'm asking if you exclusive to Rellik or if you can be your own man.'
'I can do my thing,' Garlan said.
'Good, that's what I want to hear.'
'What you got in mind?'
'I need someone disappeared.'
'Got?'
'Nah, just gone. For a time.' Red's mouth quivered as if hungry for a cigarette.
'Kidnapped?'
'Something like that. Just out the way for a spell.'
'Who?'
'King's girl.'
'You crazy. His daughter?'
'King got a daughter?' Red perked up, whatever craving he had forgotten. Information and opportunity had a way of satiating quiet grumblings.
'A little girl. Nakia. Stay around the way with his baby momma,' Garlan said.
'How you know?'
'Man like me… hears things.'
'I'll be damned. Guess Mr Ghetto Saint is as pure as pissed-on snow.'
'I don't think that even count as dirt round here,' Garlan said.
'Anyways, I was talking about Lady G.'
'Shit, that's just as crazy.'
'I give you two large.'
Garlan thought he'd have to haggle up for one grand. 'I was gonna ask that for a nobody. She a special risk. So I need a… a…'
'Risk allowance.'
'Yeah.'
'Four.'
'Five.' Garlan sensed there was money behind this play. If Naptown Red was tossing about money freely, if he was good for it — cause any fool could toss out numbers — then he might not be a bad friend to have after all.
'Done.' By Naptown Red's machinations, he just needed King out of play. Distracted, if nothing else.
Garlan waited.
'Damn, nigga. Now?'
'Money up front.'
'Half now. Half when the job is done.'
'Yeah.'
'Don't fuck me,' Red said with no play in his voice.
'I collect my ends. Word is bond.'
'Word is bond.'
The boundary of Breton Court was a tale of two strip malls, small-scale redevelopments, bringing a slice of suburban culture. The neighborhood changed by degrees before Baylon's very eyes. Just yesterday, it seemed, the strip mall running along the southern border of Breton Court — the two separated by a creek — was filled with a Target, an Osco Drug, a Comic Carnival, the Mattress Factory. Today, the Target had moved west to the other side of I-465, towards the suburbs; the Osco moved south, away from the squeeze of the Walgreens and CVS which had sprung up like pernicious weeds every few blocks; and the Mattress Factory was an empty space with a For Lease sign. Today the strip held a Peddler's Mall, a space for a fireworks store which set up shop two months a year, the Los Compadres Food Mart and the Marisco's Costa Brava restaurant.
A strip mall also girded the west side of Breton Court, the two separated by a wooden fence and a gravel lot. From the concrete-topped hill above the court, one could easily see over the wooden fence. A collection of landscaped, curtly cut bushes, decorated the entranceway. Palmirana Bakery, Piezanos Pizza, Carniceria Campos and Novedades Sandy (a goblet formed from 'Y') reparacion y mantemiento de computadores; the wind carried the wonderful smells of stewed meats and warm breads from the restaurant. To the rear of this strip were stacked black plastic crates, trash bins swarmed by flies, and abandoned shopping carts filled with flattened cardboard boxes. Billboards proudly alerted the neighborhood to the presence of Geico Insurance and Bud Light, the frame of which having been tagged by 'JUAN' and 'DRK.' Additionally, they had spray-painted not just the billboard base, but the side of the strip mall and had been painted over on the side of one of the Breton Court condos.
The creek which ran between the two malls was overgrown with foliage and buzzed by dragonflies. Kids sometimes trolled for crawdads or minnows in the silt-filled streams. Budding maple and tulip trees grew so thick no one could see to the southern strip mall from Breton Court. The little bridge which crossed the creek along High School Road was practically sealed off by plants. A trained eye could spot the worn path through the weeds leading down the side of the bridge through the overgrowth and to the sheltering tunnel formed by the overpass. This was where Baylon lived, in the shadow of his former home.
Early morning fog rose from along the creek bed, wispy ghosts along a whispering creek. A plank of plywood formed a makeshift lean-to, shielding a body from easy sight should the curious venture beneath the bridge. Used condoms were scattered on his bedroom floor, drifting in from the trickling current of the creek. Baylon searched among the cardboard and plastic and blankets piled beneath it for clothing, retrieving a pair of frozen socks. The creek was a natural ley line, and the bridge, though not his place of power, resonated like an echo chamber. It might prove to be sufficient. Dred sat on a milk crate, his eyes shut as he concentrated on his spell. His patience wore thin and he had better things to do than traipse through the underbush.
'I hear you were looking for me.' Morgana appeared behind him. The sudden sound of her voice caused Baylon to drop the socks and he whirled around. She had a way of making things inconvenient for everyone. She could be like that.
'Mother.' Dred rose.
'This better be worth it.' Morgana studied the two of them. 'The chicken comes home to roost. And you brought a friend.'
'I have no friends.'
'You are your mother's son.'
'And my father's.' Dred let his leather half-jacket fall open to reveal the handle of the Caliburn.
