Roy Glenn - Payback

Shy tried to stay as calm as she could with a gun pointed at her head. She’d just been taken hostage from Black’s Paradise, a reggae club on the beach in Freeport on Grand Bahama Island. She glanced over at her abductor and then to his stomach. He was losing a lot of blood. "This man is gonna die unless you do something to stop the bleeding," Shy yelled at the driver.

"How bad is it, Julio?" the driver asked.

"It’s bad, Sal," Julio said as he continued to hold his gun to Shy’s head.

"Hold on, man. I’ll get you to a doctor."

The sight of Julio’s blood took Shy back a couple of years to the night she got shot. She thought she was going to die sitting alone in the backseat of that car.

Shy could hear the cop yelling, "Freeze!" as she turned and pointed her gun at him. The bullet hit her in the upper right chest, near her shoulder. Shy shot back as she fell, and hit the cop with one shot to the head. When she got up, deciding not to take the time to ponder the ramifications of killing a cop, she picked up the briefcase and proceeded down the fire escape. That night changed my life forever , Shy thought as she felt Julio’s gun in her side.

"What’s your name, sweetie?" Sal asked.

"Cassandra Black," Shy answered defiantly.

"Cassandra Black, as in Mike Black is your husband, Cassandra Black?"

"Yes," Shy said, hoping that his name carried some weight, but unsure whether it was a good or bad thing. Where are you, baby? Shy thought. Mike Black had always been there for her. When someone was trying to kill her, it was Black who provided her with the lead that she needed. And it was Black who intervened when Hector told her, ‘no money, no product’. In the time that she’d known Mike Black, he had saved her life three times, if you count him sending Bobby and Freeze to save her when she had gotten in over her head. I need you to save me now.

"Shit," Sal said quietly. "So, that club was Black’s club? What the fuck am I askin’? Black’s fuckin’ Paradise. Shit!" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

It was answered on the first ring. "Quepasa?"

"This is Sal. I need to talk to Papi."

"He is very busy right now. Why don’t you call him back in about an hour?"

"I need to talk to him now! Just give him the fuckin’ phone."

"Okay, Sal, hold on. Papi!" He continued in Spanish, "Sal dice necesitahablar con elahora," letting Papi know that Sal needed to talk to him now.

Papi took a deep breath and reached for the phone. He set it down on his lap, lit a cigar, and took a sip of his tequila before picking up the phone. "Sal, what is so important that you must talk now? You should learn to relax, take things easy. You think with your mind. You move with your body. Mind and body are interrelated, and you must learn to maintain control of your own body. Relaxation techniques can help you to think clearer, focus more, and concentrate."

Now it was Sal who took a deep breath. He could hear what sounded like a woman laughing in the background. "I’m sorry to bother you, Papi, but shit went bad for us in the Bahamas."

"Really? What happened?" Papi said calmly.

"Julio went wild and just started shooting up the place."

"I did not go wild, Papi!" Julio screamed in his defense. "Those men were DEA!" Julio yelled as Shy held her breath. The last thing she wanted was for Julio to get excited and shoot her accidentally.

"Now he’s sayin’ that the money guy was DEA," Sal told Papi.

"So, you didn’t get the money?"

"No, Papi, we didn’t get the money."

"Why not, Sal?"

"The money guy wasn’t alone. After Julio shot the money guy, this other guy opened up on us and we had to shoot our way outta there. Then Mike Black’s wife starts shootin’ at us with a pump. She killed Manuel. Did you know that it was Mike Black’s club we wasmeetin’ in?"

"You ask too many questions, Sal."

"All I’m sayin’ is that we had to take her hostage to get outta there."

Papi laughed out loud, thinking that things were working out better than he planned. "I want you to take her to Miami and call me when you get there."

"I know this guy from New York. He’s a crazy muthafucka."

"I know who he is, and that is exactly why I want you to take her to Miami."

"I don’t think you understand. Mike Black is connected to some very powerful people. I don’t think we want to fuck with him. I think we should drop her off somewhere and be done with her."

"Sal," Papi said, no longer laughing. "I like you, Sal, and we have not worked together for very long, so I’m going to tell you something, and I know that I’m only going to have to tell you this one time. I don’t pay you to think. When you work for me, I demand your respect and your loyalty. I expect you to believe in me, and to do exactly what I say without question. Is that understood, Sal?"

"Yes, Papi," Sal said and rolled his eyes.

"That is good. Now, take her to the boat. The captain will take you to Miami, and you will call me when you get there. Comprende?"

"I understand, Papi," Sal replied reluctantly and drove toward the dock.

Papi hung up the phone and turned to his associate. "I’m sorry, my dear," Papi said.

"What was that about?" she asked.

Papi looked her and thought for a second. "This may be of particular interest to you. Sal had to take a hostage." Papi paused for effect. "Her name is Cassandra Black."

"Give her to me," the woman said and smiled.

"Why, so you can kill her?" Papi laughed.

"Yes."

While Sal drove, trying to heal his broken ego and Julio grimaced in pain, Shy thought about her situation. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t scared, not really anyway. She was raised around all types of the criminal element: gangsters, hustlers, and dealers. These guys were no different. She could and would kill them if she got the chance. Shy had to laugh at herself as she thought back to the days when all she was good at was pulling her gun and talking big shit. Shy had shot at people, not knowing if she hit anyone. But things were different now. She had stood in front of a man, looked him in the eyes, pulled the trigger and watched him die.

Shy was relieved that whoever this Papi character was, he wanted her alive; at least for the time being. And the only reason for that was because she was married to Mike Black. He controlled a profitable gambling, prostitution and number running business, and although they lived in the Bahamas now, his name was still influential in the States. Once again, he had saved her life.

Mike loved Shy deeply and wanted to ensure that nothing would ever happen that would put her life in jeopardy. That was why he had moved Shy out of New York to the Bahamas. Black thought that she would be safe in their quiet island paradise.

She felt a chill as the idea that she might never see her husband again washed over her. She loved him so much and hated the fact that they had fought the night before. If Michael had been there, none of this would be happening. Shy didn’t want their fight to be the last thing they shared.

"Black’s not here because we had a fight last night," Shy remembered telling Nick. He came to the island to see Black, who he hadn’t seen in years, and to meet Shy. "He left the house and I haven’t seen him since. He may be in New York or he may be right here on this island. I don’t know."

"What was the fight about?" Nick asked.

"You hit it dead center when you said I was bored. I miss New York and I want to go home. I really haven’t made any real friends down here." Shy leaned forward and whispered, "Probably because I can’t understand what they’re sayin’ half the time." She laughed. "And these women. . Oh God, why they all gotta fall all over my man? And it’s not just these island bitches. The tourists are worse. Why do they have to have their half-naked asses all up in his face, gigglin’ over every word he says, while I’m standin’ right there? I mean, Nick, I try to rise above that `cause I know he really ain’t like that anymore, but it’s hard. Bitches ain’t got no respect."