Drive Me Crazy (5 page)

I crawled into my car, shaken and stirred.

Ten minutes later I was fighting traffic in the strip mall that held Magic Johnson’s Starbucks, Fatburger, and TGIF. It was late, everything had closed hours ago, but out of habit I rode the lot to see what kind of stragglers were still hanging out. Parking lot was empty.

Arizona had me restless, my mind in a bear hug. Could’ve kissed her until sunrise.

She’d driven away and left me aroused, my insides on fire. Erotic thoughts and a nonstop movie of us played in my head. Another tease. Look at me. Forty going after a twenty-something that looked like a brand-new dime. Had to get off Fantasy Island. I pulled over and whipped out my cellular. Women with complexions from cream to coal had come and gone and would be happy to come again. Thought about calling Panther, maybe swing by Strokers, donate a few bucks to her college fund. But that movie starring Arizona played in my head again.

The alcohol in my blood told me to take my ass home and call it a night.

My spot was down on La Cienega between Centinela and the 405, a beige stucco building sitting on the edges of Inglewood, Westchester, and Los Angeles, right in the middle of at least two miles of apartment buildings, none that could pass for the Taj Ma hal. California was twelve percent black; this had to be the epicenter of Los Angeles’s contribution to those demographics.

I lucked up and found street parking within a quarter mile of my place, an apartment-dweller’s equivalent of winning the lottery. As soon as I got out of my car, that familiar red Hummer whipped up next to me. If I hadn’t been thinking about Arizona all the way home I would’ve looked in my rearview and saw that my boss’s wife was stalking me.

Lisa let the passenger-side window down, sang out her sarcasm, “Playa, Playa, Playa.”

The way she said that irked me like fingernails across a chalkboard.

My heart sped up and I gritted my teeth, wondered how psycho she was going to get.

“Somebody sad because his PYT didn’t come home with him? What, you didn’t offer her enough money? She looked young. You should’ve given her some Now & Laters.”

I ignored her, strutted away, climbed the stairs and went straight to the bathroom so I could pay my water bill. Lisa was banging at my door before I was done handling my business.

From my side of the door I said, “Go home to your husband, Lisa.”

“We have a fifteen large situation that needs to be rectified one way or another.”

I snapped out my aggravation. “Sue me.”

Her tone matched mine. “I want my money.”

“Or what? What are you gonna do?”

“Or I tell Wolf about us.”

I laughed, calling her bluff. Wolf had her locked in with an airtight prenuptial agreement, the kind that gave her nothing if the marriage ended. He’d learned a hard lesson from his first marriage. Man met broke woman. Treated her like a queen. Shit didn’t work out. Woman walked away with half of his shit, stereo included. Even a deaf woman would take the stereo just to piss a man off. Lisa was scorned when I met her. That was why it was so easy for us to fall into bed a few days after we met down on Crenshaw at Yum Yum doughnuts.

Fast-forward three months. Three hot and steamy months.

She wanted her husband dead. I needed to better my situation, get some financial relief.

And I wanted her to be my woman. Wanted her more than anything in the world.

I went to do the job, but Wolf didn’t get killed. Couldn’t do it. All bets were off. That was why she ran back home and crawled in his bed when her killing plan fell through. Between that prenuptial and his insurance policies, Wolf was worth more to her dead than alive.

I told her, “Ain’t no us, Lisa. Your wedding ring should tell you that.”

“When I was sucking your dick my wedding ring wasn’t a problem.”

“Lisa—”

“When you took my money my fucking ring wasn’t a problem.”

“Lisa—”

“I’m not going to allow you to keep ignoring me.”

I thumped my head against the door a few times, then walked away. It was quiet for a minute. I thought she had bounced. Then she started banging on my front door nonstop.

“Open the door before I make a scene.”

I yanked the door open, ready to shake some sense into her ass. She was in the hallway, the overhead light flickering, making her alternate from being a silhouette to an enraged woman holding a Glock in her hand. The business end of that death maker pointed at the ground. She used to be a cop back in the Rafael Perez days, so I knew she knew how to use it in a bad way.

She lowered her voice. “That was stupid. Nobody knows I’m here.”

My eyes were on her gun. My breathing became nonexistent. She had my attention.

She smirked.

I licked my lips. Thought about trying to take her gun and whooping her ass with it.

“You tricked me out of my money, played me good. Right, Playa?”

“Call me Playa again and I’ll grab you around your pretty little neck.”

“Think twice about that. This .40 is loaded with hollows that would liquefy your heart on impact. I’d be on the 405 before your body hit the ground.”

“What, I’m supposed to be scared?”

Like a fool I took a hard step toward her. The light flickered from life to death.

She raised her gun and acted like she was going to fire a warning shot at my groin. Cops carried the model 22. They used to carry a smaller model, the 9mm, but they took the step up to the Glock .40 because they were emptying their clips and folks were still coming at ‘em.

I walked away. Took my coat off, eased it on the sofa, then went to the kitchen and got me a canned 7-Up. Lisa put her gun and purse on the kitchen table, then went into the bathroom.

I yelled, “Why don’t you make yourself at home.”

“Fuck you.”

“Take that carnal invite up with Wolf.”

She came back out and stared at me, said nothing for a moment, gave me dramatic silence. “Guess you forgot who helped you when your phone was cut off. The cell phone you have now, guess you forgot I bought that for you.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“When your Crown Vic was broken down and you needed it fixed so you could take your mother to the hospital. When you were in a financial bind I was there for you, Driver.”

“What you wanted in return ... it was too much.”

“It’s easy for you to feel that way now. I’m the one out of fifteen large. You double-crossed me. Six months have gone by. Six months. You’re putting me in a bad position. I either have to do nothing or do something. If I do something, you’re not going to like it.”

She went back in the bathroom, closed the door. I heard her urinating.

She had me nervous in a dozen ways. I looked around at my space, tossed things in the garbage, moved a stack of books and crossword puzzles to the side, tried to stay away from her.

The toilet flushed.

Lisa came into the living room. I went back to the bathroom. Couldn’t stand being in the same room with her. I rubbed my hand over my chin, felt my stubble, hints of gray speckling my chin. I threw tap water on my face, damned my reflection for fucking with her.

My phone rang. I ran out to grab my phone before Lisa tried to answer it.

Lisa wasn’t in the living room.

I picked up the cordless. The caller-ID read JASON WOLF, JR.

My heartbeat sped up.

I clicked the green button; words crawled up my throat. “Thought you’d be ‘sleep.”

“We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem do we have, Wolf?”

I hadn’t heard the front door open or close. Went to the window. Nobody outside.

Wolf repeated himself, “We have a big problem.”

Then I saw Lisa’s coat resting on the sofa. Her scarf and jeans were there too.

I said, “I’m listening.”

I looked down at the carpet. A black bra and thong made a trail to my bedroom door.

Wolf said, “We have an account coming in from this publishing company in New York. Margaret Richburg was scheduled—”

“Okay.”

The scent of her high-end toilet water told me that she was on the other side of that door.

Wolf went on, “But his publicist left an urgent message. The jerk doesn’t want anybody white driving him around the city. Especially a Jewish woman. Man, I tell you, your cousins have a long way to go before they realize what Martin Luther King, Jr., was preaching about.”

“Uh huh.”

“Racist people, man I hate all of them bastards, don’t matter what color.”

I eased the bedroom door open.

Wolf went on, “So I’m going to need you to pick him up tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sure, Wolf. No problem.”

“I’ll phone you in the morning with the specifics.”

Lisa had turned off the bedroom light.

The window had been opened. Moonlight fell across the room.

She was standing on top of my bed. Naked.

Wolf said, “Driver ... group of islands ... starts with an A. Eleven letters. Ends in GO.”

I licked my lips, seconds passed before I told him, “Archipelago.”

“How do you know this off-the-wall shit?”

“Guess I’m just ... just ... a sponge ... remember shit other people ... forget.” I faded.

Lisa had pretty facial features—a modest and beautiful nose, cheeks that made her look younger than forty, almond-shaped eyes—but something about them didn’t go together, never photographed well. Her cheeks and nose looked bloated in pictures. But she owned the perfect body. Her pride and joy. Small waist. Ass had a nice hook. Tits were plump, had no sag. Only a trained eye could tell that she’d had them done and had spent a pretty penny on the upgrades.

Words caught in my throat, my mind ablaze. I said, “Wolf, where’s the wife?”

“She hopped in her truck and went out to Albertson’s as soon as I got in.”

“Remember Pedro just told you that Albertson’s is on strike. Vons too.”

He grunted. “Guess she’s crossing the picket line.”

Lisa was on my bed doing a fuck-me dance. She made her ass shake, moved what she had like it was a twelve-cylinder Rolls.

I asked, “Why didn’t you go with her?”

“Call came in about the New York client. Wifey was in a hurry. I’m tired anyway.”

My mind was so messed up by Lisa’s naked body being in my face and Wolf’s loyal voice in my ear. It was like we were all here in this claustrophobic room at the same time.

He asked, “How’d you make out with the young girl at Back Biters?”

“The young ... oh ... I ... I ... got her number.”

“She was a pretty woman.”

I stared between Lisa’s thighs, remembered her sweetness. “Yeah.”

There was a heavy pause.

“Just like my wife. She left here wearing those Jimmy Choo shoes and a cashmere Burberry scarf. Thousand-dollar shoes and a thousand-dollar scarf to go spend five dollars on turkey sausage at midnight. And she put on perfume before she walked out the door. New perfume.” He took a breath. “I love that woman, Driver. Love her and she drives me crazy.”

“I know, Wolf. She knows it too.”

We hung up.

The moment I put my phone down her cellular rang. Lisa stopped dancing. Her shoulders tightened and her expression changed, like she realized she was naked.

I told her, “Answer it. You’re so bad, answer it and tell Wolf where you are.”

We stood in a world muted by our own betrayals.

Her cellular rang four times then stopped.

She said, “I don’t love him, Driver.”

“But you in the same bed with him every night.”

“Can hardly stand for him to touch me.”

Guilt and jealousy were rising inside me like a crest of fire.

She whispered, “I know you’re not going to pass this up, are you Driver?”

I licked my lips, swallowed hard.

I repeated my thoughts out loud. “Wolf gave me a job, Lisa. I’m not gonna fuck it up.”

“He didn’t give you anything I can’t take away with a phone call.”

“And you didn’t give me nothing I couldn’t buy for a hundred dollars.”

She had come at me hard and I had gone back at her using that same prison tone. Hated what I had said, but that stopped her cold. Handicapped her attitude. Her eyes wanted to water.

I softened my attitude, rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Let it go, Lisa.”

“Let it go? Who do you think I am?” She snapped. “Am I just supposed to forget the fifteen thousand you owe me just because you punked out and had a moral attack?”

“You know what happened; you know where the money went.”

“Excuse me for not getting all teary-eyed, but I want my damn money.”

“Give me some time.”

“Three days from now, six months will have gone by. Your time is up.”

“You take payments?”

“I gave you half in good faith. You reneged, and you’ve given me nothing in good faith. I’m serious about my money. Either I do nothing or I do something. I want my money the same way I handed it to you. All twenties. In a McDonald’s bag. You will get it to me in three days.”

“Three days? You know what I make. Best I can do is maybe five hundred a month.”

She repeated that she wanted her fifteen large. “I know people, Playa. Some very bad people, the kind who have earned tattoo tears. I know two men who will come after you and do some very nasty things to you for half of what you owe me. They’re bad like Jesse James, and the kind of dirty work they do, they’ll make you wish you had stayed in jail.”

“You threatening me?”

“Just handling my business.”

We tumbled into a stare down. I should’ve killed her right then, stuffed her body in her Hummer, left that bulky gas-guzzler in some dark and urine-stained alley down in South Central.

She shook her head, sneered. “You’re forty. You have what, three suits?”