Dirty South

“How you stole from Jimmy Riggins and raped a drunk little girl. Or how you were grabbing the ass of the woman who conned ALIAS the other night at Whiskey Blue.”

He began to walk away.

I popped three hard ones with the crowbar into the hood.

“Shit!” Trey screamed.

“Malcolm was a good guy,” I said. “He knew about you siphoning off money from Teddy. Right?”

He shook his head and ground his back teeth together. His face was red and blotched. He wore a blue dress shirt and loose tie. Khakis and big brown New York designer shoes.

“How much did you pay Dahlia?”

“Who’s Dahlia?” the blonde asked.

“Shut up,” Brill said.

A red Toyota truck circled up the curving drive of the parking deck, light casting over me, Trey, and the girl. The car kept rolling, tires squealing, as it headed upward. Trey stood still. “Fuck you,” he said. “Fuck you. Beat my car. I don’t give a shit.”

He turned to walk away. I felt a surge inside me, my hands shaking at my sides, and I ran toward him, the crowbar clanging to the ground. I grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him against a dirty minivan. It knocked the wind from him and he dropped to his knees as the woman screamed.

The minivan’s alarm began to sound with the impact.

I gripped the front of his shirt, lifting him to his feet.

He was crying now and trying to catch a breath. His lower lip twitched and he babbled some obscenities at me.

With one hand, I banged him against the van again.

“Listen, you spoiled little shit,” I said. “I know what you are. You wipe your ass with people like that little girl. I know you left Christian holding the bag while you ran games on Jimmy Riggins and some of my teammates. I know Dahlia was the girl who conned ALIAS along with Marion Bloom. She told me. But I bet this was the first time you ever had someone killed. I don’t care who strung Malcolm up in that tree or what kind of shit you planted in his house. You called it. And you had that same street freak you hired come for me.”

I tightened my grip on his oxford cloth. “Malcolm worked for what he had. He wasn’t a twisted little fuck like you.”

When I stood back, I noticed that part of his shirt had come off in my hands.

The girl kneeled, weeping, and holding out her hand. Her fingers stretched out to Trey, who was getting to his feet and pointing at me.

Trey moved inches from my face. I could smell coffee on his breath as he yelled hard. “Don’t you see? Don’t you fucking see?”

The girl screamed, “No. No.” She tugged at his arm, pulling him away. “He’s going to kill you.”

“It’s ALIAS,” he said. “Ask Teddy. There was no con. Teddy knows. Did you ask Dahlia about ALIAS? She’s been with him for months. They took the money together. He lied and told Teddy he’d been conned. Did you ever ask Teddy about the charges he filed against ALIAS last year and the ten thousand ALIAS stole? Or when he caught Dahlia giving ALIAS head in the back of his Bentley?”

“ALIAS doesn’t know Dahlia,” I said. “She was with you at Whiskey Blue.”

“She’s just some ass, man,” he said. “She’s fucked everybody at Ninth Ward. She was there because that’s where the rappers go. Man, I was drunk when she came over to me. Have you seen her? What would you do?”

The girl behind him began to sob harder. I noticed a gold sorority insignia around her neck.

“Bullshit,” I said.

“Why would I fucking kill Malcolm?” Trey yelled, grasping his hair in his hands. “He ran the whole company. The only thing Teddy can do is fuck it up. Malcolm was my friend too. I miss him.”

I stepped back, his words flying into me with blood and foam from his mouth. The woman pulling him away, the alarm on the car still blaring into my ears.

“That kid is evil, man,” he said. “Ask Teddy if I’m lying.”

I watched him.

“You hate me because I have money,” he said. “All guys like you and Riggins want to be my friend and then hate me for what I am. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.”

I gritted my teeth and stood by the car, watching Brill and the girl slip into the BMW, back up, and spin away. The car fishtailed, nearly striking a Cadillac, before disappearing down into the parking deck.

55

TEARS RAN DOWN Teddy’s big cheeks while he answered the question from the BET VJ for 106th and Park. A camera and sound guy cornered him in his big leather sectional while the feed went out live. A few groupies lounged in Teddy’s pool in bikinis with margaritas, watching the sun set into a nice blender of oranges and reds. Louisiana Caribbean. I leaned against a wall by the open kitchen and drank a Coke. There were cheeses and wine, little quiches, fancy toast, and big bowls of caviar on his marble counter.

I didn’t like watching Teddy blasted with all those white-hot lights. I knew the showman in him had made him get back to work too soon after the death of his brother.