Players

Todd picked Michael and Darius up just before dawn that morning.

If Michael had given it any thought, this would have struck him as strange. Darius hadn't talked to Todd on the cell phone since the previous evening when Avery had rolled by in his thugmobile, but somehow Todd's appearance at the front door seemed expected.

Of course, if Michael had been in a thinking frame of mind, Avery's roll-by the previous evening would also have struck him as odd, since Michael had lived at that apartment for over five years with no similar roll-bys (by Avery or anyone else) before.

And if the white boy's brain cells had really been firing on all pistons, it would have struck him as odd that Darius had gotten the idea to sit on the front step in the first place, since the whole reason they had gone to Michael's place was ostensibly to "get out of the heat."

But of course, the boy didn't have a track record for quick thinking, and the fact that they had all gone to T.J.'s motel room because he "had to be at his sister's house in the morning," a fact conveniently forgotten by the middle of the next morning, at no point posed any kind of contradiction.

"The kid's just a dim bulb," Todd thought to himself as he pulled his Explorer (MSRP $28,475, no stretch for a database administrator like Todd, although Avery's blessed $700 was somehow elusive even under threat of death) into the courtyard of one of the city's less distinguished-looking motor hotels.

"Good ass, though," Todd also thought to himself. "Damn good ass."

He pulled the SUV into a space near the back of the courtyard. He already had the room in his name.

"We can stay here until we get things worked out," he said to Darius and Michael, who were sitting in the back.

"Avery won't find us here," he said.

Right.

The three of them spent the morning in the motel room watching cartoons. On the way, they had stopped by a fast-food drive-through for breakfast, which they ate in the room.

Michael had ordered coffee but somehow had wound up with orange juice, which if course he didn't complain about, especially when Darius had opened the carton for him and poured it in a glass, handing it to him with a gentle kiss and telling him that everything would work out, he was just sure it would all work out.

And orange juice was okay. Michael liked orange juice just fine. So he drank the orange juice of course and didn't complain about it, even though it was a little bit tart and had a slight aftertaste. But it wasn't terrible, just a little bit tart.

And Michael was already tired since Darius had kept him up most of the previous night.

(Arithmetic note: if 4+3+2=9, then 9+3=12)

So it really wasn't a surprise to anyone (least of all Darius, who sniffed the glass after Michael handed it back to him and went to the bathroom to rinse it out) when Michael lay down on the bed and went right to sleep.

Darius and Todd watched the sleeping white boy for a little while.

"Should we fuck him?" asked Todd.

Darius looked at Todd in disbelief. "Man. I can't believe you just said that."

"Well, I'm just saying..."

They looked at the white boy again. He did look sweet when he was sleeping.

"Naw, man. It's unsportsmanlike."

"I guess you're right," said Todd.

"And he's got to be awake to work his ass muscles. It wouldn't be as good. Go ahead and call Avery."

"Okay."

"Wake me up when Avery gets here. I'm going to crash for a while. Michael and I didn't get much sleep last night."

"No problem. Want some orange juice?"

"Fuck you," laughed Darius, and lay down on the bed for a nap.

Buck pulled his pickup truck to the garage at Dexter's understated but elegant homestead. Dexter met him at the driveway in flip-flops and a sweatsuit with the door opener in his hand. He pressed the button to open the garage and helped Buck move the parts from the bed of his truck into the garage.

"Where do you want it?" Buck asked Dexter.

"Next to the other one."

Buck, a burly graying white man with flushed features, spent most of the morning in the garage with his toolkit getting the thing assembled. He sported a barbed wire tattoo on his left arm and was dressed in jeans, a black tee-shirt, black boots, and a black leather vest.

"This is the first time you've used two," said Buck. "What's the occasion?"

"Good customer relations."

Buck shrugged and gave Dexter a quick overview of the riggings. It was similar to the other one, although this one used snapping locks on the restraints, whereas the other one used conventional buckles.

Buck went to his truck and came back with two cinderblocks. He placed them on the base near the front.

"That should give it more stability. These things tend to rock backwards a bit if the guy leans in too much. It helps if the guy is standing here on the base, but taller guys sometimes prefer to stand back a bit and lean in. You should also have a spotter on each side."

"We will."

"Your spotters need to pay attention and not be distracted by the action. If the boy starts swinging too much, they need to grab the chain here and slow him down. Also, they should put their feet here on the base for more stability.

"Okay," said Buck, surveying his handiwork. "I think that's everything. I'm going to cut you a price break since you're renting two. We'll come by in the morning to pick them up. Usual charges apply if we have to do any cleaning."

"You won't."

"I know. You guys are good customers. But I have to say that because you wouldn't believe some of the shit we sometimes get back. Literally." Buck put the last of his tools in his box and headed for the truck.

"Y'all have fun tonight," Buck said, before climbing in and driving away.

Friday-nights/Saturday-mornings were prime time for Avery, so he usually slept until the early afternoons on weekends. It was important to be rested for the Saturday-night/Sunday-morning business.

But this weekend he made an exception and was up by eleven. He had things to do.

After a bit of asking around, he was able to locate the twins, get them showered and out of their motel-room-du-jour (noit?) and into his car.

Needless to say, they weren't thrilled. But it really wasn't a matter of choice, so they didn't complain. There was no point in complaining. They sat in the back seat of the thugmobile sullenly nursing the bottles of Sprite* that Avery gave them.

(* Hospitality note: Sprite is the preferred beverage of crackheads worldwide. Remember this the next time you find yourself playing host to a crackhead who is coming down from a binge.)

After placing the twins in the care of Dexter's houseboy, Avery stopped by his house to catch up on his emails and then headed to Ray-Ray's farmhouse, which was located on a dirt road just outside the city limits.

Ray-Ray, who in truth was something of a "mama's boy" and more of a teddy bear than a grizzly bear, nonetheless struck an imposing figure, and when not grinning toothless, he had a gift for creating an intimidating impression. He wasn't a bad guy, but he looked mean as hell, an effect no doubt enhanced by the facial scar he bore from a childhood accident involving a backyard grill. This effect came in handy because it made actual violence unecessary in most cases.

People didn't mess with Ray-Ray. He'd be perfect for what Avery needed.

Plus, he owned a panel van, which would also be perfect for what Avery needed.

Melvin rang the customer's purchase (two "Love Roses" and a jumbo cigarette lighter) and returned to his seat behind the counter. Business was slow this morning at the Quik-Chek Food Store.

The bell on the front door jingled as Tremaine walked in. He glanced around to make sure there were no other people in the store and then approached the counter.

"I need a reload," he said.

"How much?" asked Melvin.

"Fifty."

Melvin ducked behind the counter and pulled back the rubber flap that served as the counter's baseboard. There was a hole in the wood just large enough for his hand, and he quickly withdrew five small jewelry baggies from the stash. He handed them to Tremaine.

"You're doing good today," said Melvin. "This makes eighty so far."

"I'm covering for Tristan this morning," said Tremaine. "He had to go to his mom's house to help her with some stuff. You going to the party?"

"I don't know," said Melvin.

"You should," said Tremaine. "It's supposed to be good."

"He didn't let me get any last time," said Melvin. "I always get left out."

"That's because you ruined his houseboy for a week."

"Yeah. He won't let me fuck the houseboy no more."

"But they've got someone different this time. It won't be the houseboy."

"I know. But they still always make me go last."

"That's cause they afraid of falling in."

"What?"

"After you're done, the hole's so big and loose that it ain't no good. They afraid of falling in."

"Whatever."

"It's true. You know you got a big ass dick."

"Yeah."

"But you should come. It'll be fun."

"I might."

"I hope so. We'd love to see you."

"I'll still probably have to go last, though," said Melvin.

"Yeah. You'll still probably have to go last."

"Is he waking up?"

"Not yet."

Ray-Ray jerked the wheel, sending the van briefly into the other lane and back. The entire vehicle rocked with a lurch.

Avery tightened his seat belt.

Darius and Todd gripped the metal supports inside the van to steady themselves.

The white boy rolled slightly on the floor of the van. He gave a little snort.

Avery nodded to Ray-Ray, who jerked the wheel again.

The white boy's eyes fluttered.

Darius and Todd put on their best scared faces. It was time for the next scene to begin.

Todd raised his eyebrows at Avery in a question.

Avery nodded.

Todd spoke:

"Just give us a little more time. We'll do right."

Avery bellowed, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Please Avery. Please give us a chance."

"YOU'VE HAD YOUR CHANCE!"

The white boy's eyes fluttered again.

Todd and Avery exchanged glances. Todd nodded at him.

Avery bellowed again:

"NOBODY PUNKS ME AND LIVES!"

"Please, Avery! We didn't punk you! We were raising the money!"

"HIDING OUT IN A MOTEL ROOM? FUCKIN' WAY TO RAISE MONEY!"

The white boy opened his eyes. He blinked.

Darius stared at the opposite wall in the van, concentrating.

"Watch this," Todd mouthed silently at Avery and nodded in Darius's direction.

Avery looked at Darius curiously.

Darius kept his focus on the opposite wall, concentrating hard.

Todd stared at Darius intently. Any second now...

And there it was. Darius's eyes were becoming moist.

Avery watched in awe.

A tear welled in the corner of Darius's eye.

Avery's mouth opened. Todd smiled and nodded.

Darius turned his attention to Michael, who was rubbing his eyes. Darius focused his attention hard on the white boy and kept the script running in his head:

Such a sweet, innocent boy.

His baby.

His baby didn't deserve this horrible fate.

They were too young to die.

He didn't want to die.

He didn't want his baby to die.

Not like this.

Oh, God. Please not like this.

Darius maintained his focus, and the tear began its descent down the side of his face.

Avery smiled and made and pantomimed a silent round of applause. The kid was good.

Darius ignored him and maintained his focus on the white boy. He was hitting his stride now. Finding his focus. The rest would be easy.

Michael rubbed his eyes again and focused on Darius for the first time. Darius took a deep breath and wiped his face, now streaked with tears.

Michael looked at Todd (who now looked terrified) then back at Darius. He looked at Avery, who had assumed a cold, grim expression.

"Baby?" Michael asked. "Did we get the money?"

Darius looked at Michael sadly. He exhaled in resignation and softly said:

"No, Baby. We didn't get the money."

Tremaine was the first worker bee to arrive at Dexter's house that evening. He was usually the first.

Dexter chalked it up to the kid's youth. He was fairly new in the game, and still eager, with the look of a kid just out of high school.

Which chronologically was about right. Tremaine was just at the age where most kids graduate.

Not that he had ever been to high school. Tremaine had dropped out of school in the eighth grade.

But what he lacked in schooling, Tremaine made up in hustle. He was one of the hardest working worker bees in Dexter's little empire. The kid moved product.

Dexter answered the door, which was unusual.

"Where's Peaches?" Tremaine asked. (The houseboy's name was Peaches.)

"He's in the back getting things ready."

"Oh."

Dexter motioned Tremaine in through the metal detector at the front entrance. He offered the kid a beer, and Tremaine took a seat on the massive leather sofa facing the television.

"This is sweet!" said Tremaine. "When did you get the big screen?"

"About two weeks ago," said Dexter.

"Man, I'd love to have one of those some day!"

"Keep working the business, and you will."

"Word."

A music video was playing on the television. Dexter took his place in the easy chair and they watched the TV. Beyond the initial greetings, there really wasn't much for them to talk about. Dexter was about four levels above Tremaine in the organization. Normally it would be against protocol for them to even speak to each other.

But tonight was an exception. "Employee Appreciation Night" only happened once a month in the Dexter Marceau organization.

The doorbell rang a few more times, and Dexter answered each time. He excused himself to the kitchen and called two of his lieutenants to hurry the fuck up and get to the house. It was bad form for Dexter to be answering the door. Risky, too.

Eventually two of his seconds showed up and took over the front door detail, patting the arriving guests down and working the metal detector. Peaches emerged from the back and began serving the drinks.

The place gradually filled up with people. Although many of the people in Dexter's organization had a generally casual approach to being on time (except when making sales...that was business), they always tended towards punctuality when it came to showing up at Dexter's little soirees.

For one thing, it was wise to make a good impression on the Big Boss.

For another thing, nobody wanted to miss out on any of the pussy.

One of the street-level managers recognized Tremaine and nodded at him. They worked in the same part of town.

"What's up?"

Tremaine smiled and nodded back. "Just waiting for this shit to get started. I'm horny as a motherfucker."

"Me too. I've been saving it up for a week."

Darius kissed Michael on the lips.

"Thank you, Baby."

Todd nodded solemnly.

"You're a lifesaver."

Michael stared silently at the ground. A beetle scurried across the dirt surface and under the wooden door. He could hear the chickens fussing in the coop just outside. The place was sweltering hot and smelled of gasoline. The only light, pure sunlight, leaked in around the edges of the door and through a dusty blackened window high above them.

Footsteps approached. Keys rattled. A padlocked snapped, and the door swung open, momentarily blinding them in a sudden onrush of sunlight.

A dreadlocked form stood before them, flanked on either side by two husky. imposing forms.

"It's arranged," said Avery.

Todd and Darius let out heavy sighs of relief.

"We need to go soon," said Avery. "They're waiting. Get up."

The three rose to their feet.

Avery turned to the man on his right. "Take Todd and Darius to the car." Turning to Michael, he said, "You stay here for a minute, white boy."

Todd and Darius left, escorted by one of Avery's lieutenants.

Avery stepped into the shed. He said to his remaining lieutenant, without looking over his shoulder:

"I need a little privacy."

The lieutenant gently closed the door behind Avery as he unfastened his belt and approached the white boy.