ONE CUP (Part 20)

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78

Larry Brown

My distribution business is how I come to be in the barn with Leon and the girl in the trunk. I have a customer who maybe ain’t technically an addict, but she sure must party a lot, because me and her have done a lot of business. I’m known for havin' the best weed anywhere, and she’s always happy to pay top dollar for a reliable supplier. An old prison buddy of mine, TJ, put her in contact with me. Said she’s his cousin. She told me her name was Jane. She’d always wear dark sunglasses and a big red wig, prancin’ around in high heels. Reminded me of that broad from a comedy show used to be on the TV—but I knew who she was. I ain’t stupid. She’s Kayla Prescott, the wife of that rich ballplayer. She’s on TV, too. Like I care. Long as she’s got the money, I’ll provide her anything she wants. Besides selling her some weed every now and then I also done a few odd jobs for her. Like the time I stole her car.

It wasn’t no big deal. She told me where to find it. She even left the keys in it. Paid me good, too, because she wanted to be sure it didn’t end up in some chop shop. All I needed to do was just take it down to the river and dump it there. I took it to the chop shop anyhow. Made me some extra beer money. Bought some fancy underwear for Tonya and Morgan.

A few hours later, I was watchin’ TV while I made love to Tonya—if you ever meet the bitches I keep, she’s the one with the dark black hair and the Harley Davidson tattoo on her ass. I took her off one of them guys I buried out in the neighbor’s woods behind my trailer. Anyway, we was doin’ it with the TV on and I seen the ballplayer’s wife on the news. She was puttin’ on quite a show, fightin’ back the tears, tremblin’ just a little bit. Like she was all shook up, but brave at the same time.

She was tellin’ the reporter about how she’d been carjacked by a black man with a nylon stocking pulled over his face. When in doubt, always say it’s a black guy, and they will believe you. She said she’d struggled and gotten away from him. Said he got away with her car and some personal items, like jewelry and cash in her purse. There wasn’t no purse in the car when I took it, and I ain’t black, neither. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

79

Whitney

Somewhere in the Bible it says not to judge others, lest you be judged yourself. Unless you’ve found yourself in the position of being out of money, out of options, with no idea how you’re going to provide for your child, let alone yourself, you’ve no right to look down your nose at me. I did what I did. I am what I am. I’m not proud of it, but neither am I ashamed. I provided a necessary service, and I made a good living. I don’t know what I would have done if I had not met Jackie that night.

At the same time, I had to admit, choosing the path I walked did lead me to my current circumstances.

80

At ten-thirty a.m. May Chapman tried calling again. For the third time in the last twenty minutes, her call went to voice mail. She’d already left two messages. No sense in leaving another. It wasn’t like Whitney Ross to be late picking up Rylee.

When she dropped her off yesterday afternoon, she said she would be out late. May suggested it might be good to leave Rylee overnight rather than rousing her out of a sound sleep in the middle of the night to take her home. “She’s no trouble,” May said when Whitney had been reluctant to impose. “She and my two kids get along great. Think of it as a sleepover.”

Whitney agreed, saying, “I’ll come over right after breakfast. Say around eight, eight-thirty.” Now here it was, a good two hours later, and May was worried.

81

Whitney

Several hours passed since my being pulled out of the BMW’s trunk. From the look of it, they had taken me to what I at first conceived to be a junkyard, but soon learned was Larry’s home. My right wrist was handcuffed to a ten-foot length of heavy chain secured to the trunk of a maple tree, which served as my only shelter. I was going nowhere for the time being, so I sat on the ground, leaning against the tree, thinking.

Kayla Prescott tried to kill me, or rather, have me killed. Larry, the guy who’d followed me home so long ago and had been scared off by Jackie, was now holding me captive. How he came to be involved in all this, I hadn’t a clue. It was apparent he couldn’t care less whether I lived or died, and Kayla certainly had the money to make it worth his trouble to get rid of me. And, to make matters worse, he and Leon used one another’s names in front of me. That was stupid of them. Leon might not be bright enough to put it together that I could describe where I was being held against my will, or that I now knew their first names, and would have no trouble identifying them in a lineup. Larry might not be a well-cultivated gentleman, but he obviously possessed clever criminal instincts. I could only assume he simply didn’t care I could identify him because he intended to kill me anyway. He probably got off on knowing the stakes had been raised high enough that he now had to do it. He was only keeping me alive for the time being because it served his purpose.

I had the gift of time, but did not know how much. Days? Hours? Minutes? What would Jackie do? Is Rylee okay?

82

At two o’clock in the afternoon, May Chapman made the decision to call the police and report Whitney Ross missing.

First, she called 911, and was told her call was not considered an emergency.

She then called another number, and was put on hold for several minutes. Eventually, a gruff-sounding sergeant came on the line and took down the information, said they’d send somebody by. Let them know if she heard anything about Whitney’s whereabouts.

And now, it was four-thirty. Still no Whitney. Still no cops. May emptied her purse, searched her desk drawers, nearly turned the house upside down searching for the note pad with her clients contact information she’d been meaning to put on her phone for the past couple months. It turned up in, of all places, the console in the middle of the living room love seat, where she kept the TV remote control.

There was an emergency contact number for Whitney, and May called it. “Hello. This is Jackie,” the female voice answered.

83

Jackie

I found May Chapman’s house with minimal difficulty. The moment I stepped out of the car, Rylee came running up to me, arms wide apart. “Auntie J!” We hugged for several seconds. “Do you know where my Mommy is?”

“No,” I said. “But I’m sure she’s okay.” I looked to the porch, where May Chapman stood with her arms crossed in front, an expression of worry on her face. “Rylee, honey,” I said, “Why don’t you run on in and grab your things. I’ll take you to my house. Maybe we can stop for ice cream on the way.”

“Okay,” Rylee said. “Maybe Mommy can join us!”

“We’ll see.”

May came down the steps as Rylee ran inside. “I called the police,” she said. “I made a missing person report.” She shook her head. “Something’s not right.”

I nodded. “You have my number,” she said. “Obviously. If you hear anything from Whitney, please call me.”

May nodded, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. A moment later, Rylee, along with May’s two children, a boy and a girl, both preschool age, came up to us. “Mommy,” the boy said to May, “Rylee said we can go with them for ice cream and stay at her auntie’s house tonight.”

“No,” May said, to which the children all protested loudly. “Maybe some other time.” Then, to me, as I was was busying myself loading Rylee and her overnight backpack into my car, “You call me too, please, Miss Jackie, if you hear anything.”

“I will.”

84

Whitney

Sometime around noon, Leon brought me a peanut butter sandwich on stale bread, a bottle of water, and a roll of toilet paper, setting them on the ground just close enough that I could reach them from the outer limits of the chain. Apparently, he didn’t trust me after my having kicked him in the balls. “I’ll check back on you in a couple of hours,” he said.

As he turned to go, I noticed my gun tucked in the small of his back, inside the waistband. My passion purple dura-coated Glock 43. The one I’d been unable to retrieve with my hands bound behind me in the trunk of my car. He’d found it. I called to him. “Leon.”

The big man stopped, turned halfway, eyeing me with suspicion.

“Leon, I’m sorry I kicked you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Without a word, Leon turned away and left me there alone.

85

Jackie

I personally believe there are no accidents. Things have a reason for happening when they do, and in the way they do. It is the way of the Universe.

I was sitting in a Starbucks, sipping a Chai Latte and reading an e-book when I noticed her, the girl I’d more or less rescued a couple weeks prior. The place was packed, and she was looking for a place to sit. I invited her to join me, and we struck up a conversation for a few minutes before it was time for me to leave for an appointment.

We bumped into one another twice more in the next few weeks. Once, in the grocery store, and then again at Starbucks. She said, “We must be destined to get to know one another”. I agreed.