The Mike Black Saga; MOB (16 page)

“I can walk,” Ronnie said, stumbling off the barstool.

“Yeah, just not straight.” Jackie laughed.

“All I know is that nigga ain’t right, and if he ever come back, we gotta watch him.”

Even though he was tired, Travis still couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned all night, only drifting off to sleep for a while before waking up again to look at the clock. At 7:00 a.m., Travis was back in the car. He had breakfast at a nearby IHOP then headed for Miami.

As soon as he arrived in Dade County, he called Pete’s charter service. Unfortunately for Travis, the woman who answered the phone said that Pete wasn’t available and wouldn’t be until the next day. “Do you want to leave a message for Pete?” the woman asked.

“No.”

After getting the address and directions, Travis continued his ride south on I-95 and got off at Biscayne Boulevard. He checked in at the Riande Continental, the hotel where he usually stayed when he was in Miami. Once he was satisfied that his money was secure, he changed his clothes and walked across the street to the Bayside Marketplace.

He went to the Latin Grill, which featured Cuban style cuisine. He sat alone enjoying a zesty Palomilla steak while he contemplated his situation. Finally, Travis began to relax. He recognized that if he continued to make decisions in his current state of mind, he would make the kind of mistakes that would get him caught.  He convinced himself that there really was no need for the panicked state he was in. With a clearer head, Travis realized that this trip was going to take longer than he thought it would.
And why not spend a couple of days in the Caymans?

After he finished his steak, Travis wandered around the marketplace and picked up a few things to wear in the Caymans. As he was passing the Silver Palace, a necklace caught his eye. He went in and bought it for Me’shelle. He stopped in The Hard Rock Café, then Fat Tuesday’s, and had a drink in each before ending up at Sharkey’s. While he was there, Travis met, and had a very interesting conversation with an attractive Hispanic woman named Marita, who was having drinks at the bar.

As he was getting ready to leave, Travis told Marita that he was staying at Riande Continental. He gave her the room number. “If you’re not doing anything later this evening, stop by,” he told her.

He started to go back to his room to relax but ended up at a strip club called Black Gold on Biscayne Boulevard. Once that grow old, Travis headed back to his room and called Me’shelle. They had been on the phone talking for over an hour. Travis told her that he had gotten her a souvenir and would give it to her over dinner when he returned to New York.

“Thank you, Travis. You know you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I wanted to. As soon as I saw it, I thought that you would like it.”

“Oh, really? What is it?”

“It’s a surprise,” Travis said.

“Well, that will give me something to look forward to.” Me’shelle paused. “Along with dinner,” she said quickly.

“For a minute there I thought that you were looking forward to seeing me,” Travis said, hearing the smile in her voice.

“Maybe just a little. I like talking to you. I don’t think that I’ve ever enjoyed talking to somebody as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

“Well, Me’shelle, the feeling is mutual.”

“Well, Travis, I’m going to say goodnight now,” Me’shelle said.

“Do you have to hang up now?” Travis said just as a he heard a knock at his door. He had a good idea who it was. “But I understand that you have to mold young minds in the morning, so I’ll let you go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” The knocking continued and got louder.

“Okay, Travis.” Me’shelle yawned. “Good night.”

Travis hung up the phone and went to open the door. He swung the door open and as he expected, Marita stood before him.

“Can I come in?”

At 9:00 the next morning, Travis had said goodbye to Marita, checked out of the hotel, and was standing in a used car lot. The dealer looked over the Thunderbird and offered Travis a thousand dollars for it. “Sold,” Travis said then signed over the title. He thought it best that he get rid of the car just in case the police reviewed the tapes of the parking lot and were looking for his car.

He caught a cab to Pete’s charter service and went inside. He approached the man behind the counter. “What can I do for you?” Pete said with his typical
not another nigger
look on his face.

“I’m looking for Pete,” Travis said

“That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“Mike Black sent me. I need to charter a plane to the Cayman Islands.”

Pete looked at Travis strangely, then it hit him. “Oh yeah, Mike Black,” Pete said when he remembered who Mike Black was and how Angelo Colette said to treat him. “You tell Mr. Black that I’ll be more than glad to take you there.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that,” Travis said, laughing to himself because Mike Black wouldn’t know him from a can of paint.

“When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Any cargo going or comin’ back?”

“Just my luggage.”

Pete looked strangely at Travis again, wondering how these niggers made money. Trips of this sort were usually in and out, coming back with cargo.
These guys act like they’re going to take a vacation.
“Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No.” Travis thought for a second or two before instructing, “Come back for me on Friday morning if that’s not too much trouble.”

“No problem.” He told Travis his fee, and Travis paid in cash. Pete counted the money twice. “Have a seat. I’ll come get you when the plane is gassed and ready for takeoff.”

Once the plane landed at the airport in George Town, Grand Cayman Island, Travis asked Pete if he knew someplace nice where he could stay. “Naw,” Pete said. “I don’t know a place to stay here.” Travis took a look at Pete in his beat-to-shit flight suit and his two-day growth of beard, and wasn’t surprised. “Wait a minute. I do know of a place. It’s called The Pools. It’s in Kaibo in Rum Point on the north side of the island. They got them beachfront condos out there. I flew a business exec down here a couple of months ago. Older guy, probably cheatin’ on his wife. Anyway, that’s where him and his little chippie stayed. She was a one of them high-class pretty blond gals. So I figure it must be someplace nice.”

“Thanks. I’ll check it out, Pete. I’ll see you Friday morning.”

After a lengthy ride around the coastal areas of Grand Cayman Island, the taxi driver made it to Rum Point. The cab pulled up in front of The Pools. Travis was very surprised and very impressed. He wasn’t expecting much from Pete’s referral of someplace an old man visited with his mistress. He went inside and the clerk described the property.

 “The Pools feature fully furnished and smartly equipped one bedroom, one bath vacation properties. Our rooms are specifically designed with a private screened pool on your lanai, with ultra large sliding doors that fully open up the bedroom, living area and kitchen to a magnificent view of the beach and North Sound. You are about fifteen steps from the pool to the warm, relaxing water and soft, sandy white beach. It is located on the very end of The Pools development, making for a very private setting. Your room will be shaded under palm trees, and enjoys consistent trade winds that come across from Rum Point. Would you care to see a unit, sir?”

“Yes, definitely. Lead the way,” Travis said and followed the attendant.

Once he reached the condo, he went on to explain, “The condo has a king-sized bed in the master bedroom, with a large sleeper built into the living area couch, making for comfortable accommodations for up to four adults.”

“I don’t plan on having that much company.” Travis smiled.

“But it’s good to have and don’t need, yes? Come, let me show you, the unit has cable TV, stereo, and a phone. There are ceiling fans in the bedroom and living area, along with central air conditioning. The condo has a fully equipped kitchen with all the modern appliances. The laundry room has a full size washer and dryer, and the condo comes equipped with linens and towels, along with basic toiletries for your use. Chisholm’s grocery is just a seven minute drive down the road.”

“I’ll take it.”

Once Travis was finished with the check-in process and was alone in the condo, he stepped out on the lanai to look at his private screened-in pool. He gazed out at the beach and exclaimed, “This is the shit!”

When he calmed down, he thought about calling Jackie or Ronnie to see what was up. Then he thought it was a better idea to call Freeze.

“What’s up?” Freeze asked.

“You tell me.”

“It’s all good in this corner of the world. Your crew been up at Cynt’s the last couple of nights. I hear your boy Ronnie was drunk. I talked to Jackie for a minute last night. Her fine ass says it’s all been good on her end. Every time I see her I think what a waste. She don’t fuck no men?”

“Not that I know of,” Travis said and smiled.

“What a fuckin’ waste. Anyway, you back in town yet?”

“No. I’m in the Caymans. Just got here, in fact.”

“Pete take good care of you?”

“Yeah, man. No problems there. He’s coming back for me on Friday,” Travis said.

“Good. Anything else?”

“No. I just called to holla, see what was up. We’ll talk when I get back.” 

With that call out of the way, Travis found time to relax. He gave some thought to catching a cab back into George Town to rent a car, but decided against it. Instead, Travis walked to Chisholm’s grocery to pick up a few things he’d need for his stay.

He took a cab back to The Pools and put in a call to Veronica Evans. She worked in investment and special services at National Commercial Bank, where Travis kept his money. In her position she handled demand and time deposits in all major currencies, investment advisory services, and spot and forward trading in the foreign exchange markets. Travis had talked with her many times over the past two years, and there was always a very sexual under tone to their conversations.

When Travis told her that he was on the island, Veronica asked him to meet her for dinner in George Town at a restaurant called Paradise. “It is the best place to enjoy the true Cayman sunset overlooking the harbor at Eden Rock,” Veronica told him. 

Travis was excited to meet the woman who had the most adorable West Indian accent he’d ever heard. He waited at the oceanfront bar for her to arrive. “Travis?” Veronica said as she approached him at the bar.

As soon as he heard her voice, Travis turned around quickly and stood up. “Veronica?”

“I know it was you the minute I see you sitting there. You look exactly like you sound,” Veronica said.

Travis looked her over and a smile slowly came across his face. “Please, have a seat,” he said. Veronica sat down at the bar next to him. “You don’t look anything like I pictured you.”

“What you think I look like? No, let me guess. You thought I was a little skinny something, right?”

Travis smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly right.”

“Everyone I have conversation with by phone is surprised when they see me.” Veronica laughed. She wore her hair in short dreadlocks, which seemed to fit her attractive face and full lips. Her dark skin was radiant in the island sun. But what brought the smile to Travis’s face was her body. Her hips and her chest screamed for attention. Veronica stood five feet ten inches tall and had the type of body that used to be called a
brick house.
She was very well put together, dressed in a blue-skirted business suit and white blouse, which by this time was buttoned down.

“So, tell me the truth, Travis. Are you disappointed in what you see?” she asked, leaning forward to give him a view of her ample cleavage.

“Not at all.” Travis leaned closer to her. “In fact, seeing you makes me wish I had made this trip much sooner,” he said, smiling all over himself.

For the next hour or so, they had drinks at the bar and Veronica told Travis about life at the bank. “NCB is a subsidiary of National Commercial Bank of Jamaica. I was transferred in when a mutual fund company, acquired just over seventy-five percent of the share holdings in the bank,” she said.