Wrecked Read online

  “What’s wrong with that?” Isaiah said.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it, but he’s a garbage man. He makes union wages, seventeen dollars an hour, and what did he pay you with? His girlfriend came over to your house and washed the windows. He didn’t do nothin’ but watch.” Dodson had a point, Isaiah thought. “Look at it this way,” Dodson went on. “Your windows might be clean, but can you spend ’em? Let me be in charge of the finances. I know about money and you don’t.” Dodson was right, Isaiah thought, which was aggravating in itself.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re in charge of the money.”

  “You promise?” Dodson said skeptically. “ I know you don’t like people fuckin’ with your business.”

  “I promise,” Isaiah said, immediately wanting to take it back.

  “Okay, how about this? A fifty-dollar minimum and they can make payments. Spread it over a year and that’s four dollars and sixteen cents a month. Anybody can afford that.”

  “I don’t know,” Isaiah said, trying to draw this out until he could think of an argument.

  “Do you want to live by the skin of your teeth for the rest of your life? You got to get ahead, Isaiah, put some away. What if something comes up and you really need cash? You can’t get a second on a dog house. You need to be sensible.”

  Isaiah could feel his scalp tingling, a sign of fear, oncoming disaster, loss of control, or all of the above. So what did he expect? Partners meant being reasonable, compromising, sharing control. This was starting to seem like a bad idea already. “Okay,” he said in a voice that was nearly a whisper.

  “All right,” Dodson said. “We rollin’ for real.”

  “What about those big cases you talked about?”

  Dodson smiled, ever confident. “Don’t worry about it. I got some irons in the fire.”

  Dodson was worried about it. Rich people had all kinds of resources at their disposal. Needing Isaiah’s services would be a rare thing. The Facebook page had received a grand total of a hundred and seventeen views, and all of them were people Isaiah already knew. Dodson posted articles touting Isaiah’s accomplishments, an announcement of their partnership, a mission statement, headshots of himself posing like Kat Williams, and the only personal photo Isaiah would let him use: standing twenty feet away in the shade of a lemon tree. He looked like he was hiding. But the thing that kept Dodson up nights and made him sweat was that he hadn’t told Cherise he’d sold his half of the food truck.

  He could just hear her: Let me see if I understand, she’d say in her are-you-stupid voice. You used all of our savings and took out loans to buy the truck and then went ahead and sold it so you can play detective with Isaiah? Do you know Louella Barnes paid him with a reindeer sweater?

  They got married at the United in God Baptist Church. Reverend Arnall performed the ceremony. Cherise’s family and friends were seated on one side of the chapel. A normal collection of black folks. Dodson’s people were on the other side: his mother and sister, his father not sober or interested enough to attend. Isaiah, Deronda, and Nona were there, as well as Dodson’s old friends; the kind of people you’d see on wanted posters in the post office; thugs, hoochies, gangstas, hustlers, and bruthas on parole for a variety of felonies. Their idea of dressing up was to wear whatever they wore yesterday, except for Cheesy’s girlfriend, Libertine. She was heavy and round and had on a silver halter top and matching shorts. Cherise said she looked like a ball of Jiffy Pop coming off the stove. At Cherise’s insistence, none of them were invited to the reception, but a few did bring gifts. A box of 9mm ammo, a cock ring, an old version of Grand Theft Auto, and a bong made out of a clarinet.

  If Cherise found out about the truck he wouldn’t see her naked again until his nuts were like dried apricots. He was paying the bills with the checks he got from Deronda, which weren’t much, and Cherise was on maternity leave and getting half pay. He could feel his checkbook scraping the bottom of his bank account.

  Dodson drove home from Isaiah’s, pissed he hadn’t stood firmer on the minimum. He was either in charge of the money or he wasn’t. He stopped at Beaumont’s to grab an overpriced grapefruit juice, a habit he’d developed in his drug-dealing days to get the crack taste out of his mouth. He was glad all that was behind him. The violence, the hustling, prison.

  “How are you, Juanell?” Beaumont said as Dodson stepped up to the counter. “You still selling counterfeit Gucci bags out the trunk of your car?”

  “I quit that a long time ago,” Dodson said.

  “What are you doing these days?”

  “I partnered up with Isaiah.”

  “Isaiah?” Beaumont said in disbelief. “You mean our Isaiah?”

  “Yes, our Isaiah.”

  “What are you, some kind of secretary?”

  Dodson paid for the juice and left. As he came out of the store Deronda pulled up at the curb in a brand-new, bright red Miata. She was bobbing her head to Mos Def’s “The Edge.” She was dripping bling, her hair straightened, unflattering bangs on her forehead, her nails too long to be functional and so sparkly you could see them from Jupiter.

  “Whassup, Dodson?” she said, sounding suspiciously cheerful. “How’s everything in your fucked-up world?”

  “Fine. How’s everything in yours?” He wondered where she got the car but didn’t ask, assuming she’d smothered yet another baby daddy with that world-class badonk.

  “Heard you and Isaiah might be getting together.”

  “We’ve formed a partnership. We have compatible personalities and other attributes that complement each other. He appreciates my business acumen and instinct for opportunity and I’m happy to say we’ve far exceeded our financial goals and look forward to a successful future. Is that broke-down food truck doing any business?”

  “It’s not truck anymore. It’s truckssss. I got three of ’em now.”

  “What three?” he said.

  “Do you know Tudor, the mortgage broker?” Deronda said. “That’s a smart man, right there. He saw my potential, my charisma, my star quality. He got the bank to give me a fat-ass loan.” Deronda looked at her nails and blew on them. “Yeah, I’m an LLC now and a CEO on top of that. Oh and by the way? It ain’t D&D’s Fried Chicken no more. It’s just plain D, and I’m makin’ money, son.” She looked in the mirror and patted her hair. “I really do appreciate you sellin’ me your half of the food truck for a muthafuckin’ song. Definitely shows your business acumen and instinct for opportunity.”

  Dodson was silent a moment. He hadn’t been this tongue-tied since his early days with Cherise.

  “What was that?” Deronda said, cupping her hand around her ear. “I can’t hear you? Are you okay? Because you look like you choking to death on your jealousy.”

  “Nobody’s choking,” Dodson said, struggling to maintain his cool. “And I’m happy for you. An uneducated stripper from your poverty-stricken background deserves a second chance.”

  “Y’all still gettin’ paid with blueberry muffins?”

  “No, we have new regulations about fees.”

  “I hope they keep you out the poorhouse.” She revved the engine. “Y’all take it easy now. I wish you success exceedin’ your financial goals.” She gave him a wide-eyed laugh, did a few fuck-you head bobs, and sped off to the beat. Dodson felt humiliation ooze over him, hot and slimy. He’d never live this down. Never.

  When he got home, Cherise was in her sweatpants and a long T-shirt that said MAMA BEAR. There was another one that said PAPA BEAR but he’d accidentally thrown it in a dumpster. Cherise was walking in little circles with the baby in her arms, cooing and patting him on the back. She was still on the heavy side but at least you could see where her waist used to be. She hadn’t put on lingerie since Before Christ. All she wore now were big, white, senior citizen panties and the same bra the Russian women wore at the Olympics.

  “We’re out of Pampers, Juanell,” she said, not even looking at him.

  “How we can we be out of Pampers again?�
� Dodson said, wondering what happened to Hello, sweetheart and a kiss. “That baby shits like a grown man.”

  “Didn’t I tell you about that kind of language? I don’t want to hear it around the baby.”

  “Since when does he speak English? If that’s the case, we don’t need that baby monitor. He can just holla at us.” Dodson kissed her and kissed the baby. “Whassup, Micah? How’s my big-head boy? Damn, are you giving him hormone shots? He’s bigger than when I saw him this morning.”

  “He’s perfect,” Cherise said with that dreamy-eyed smile she’d had since she left the hospital.

  “Say, Cherise. You got an ETA on when we gonna be hittin’ it again? It’s been a whole month.”

  “And it might be another month,” she snapped. “I just had a baby, okay? An eight-pound baby.”

  “That’s why I thought you’d be all loose and juicy.” Dodson wished the words were a boomerang that would turn around and come back. Cherise gave him a look that sliced off the top of his head.

  Cherise’s mother, Gloria, came out of the kitchen. “Did you see Micah’s diaper rash? I don’t think that ointment’s doing anything. You should switch to that organic brand, Motherlove, I’ve heard good things about it.” She looked at Dodson, scowled and said, “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yes, it’s me. Who’d you expect? Your ex-husband who went all the way back to North Carolina just to get away from you?”

  “Josiah was a bum just like you. I’m surprised you two aren’t related.”

  Gloria was an ossified, dead-certain old woman who wore dark print dresses, glasses with rhinestones embedded in the frames, and nurse’s shoes. She was one of those people who was right about everything and knew the proper way, the only way, to do everything from making a pie crust and removing stains to child-rearing and dealing with the white man. She brushed past Dodson like he was a dead branch on an azalea bush and slipped a towel between Cherise’s shoulder and the baby. Gloria tossed her head. “How something as beautiful as this child could have a father like you, God only knows. If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times, Cherise should have married Earl Cleveland. That man is a plastic surgeon now.”

  “He needs to be,” Dodson said. “His whole damn family is ugly.”

  “Juanell,” Cherise said, glaring at him. “Go get the Pampers.” Dodson turned and headed for the door.

  “And some Motherlove too,” Gloria said. “I think they have it at Whole Foods.”

  Dodson stopped. Whole Foods was way over near the harbor. It would take him forty-five minutes to get there in the traffic and forty-five minutes to get home again. He started to protest but he could feel the women’s eyes daring him to turn around, and he knew if he did those eyes would become sledgehammers and beat him into the ground like a fence post. “See you in a while,” he said.

  He was walking around Whole Foods looking for Motherlove. He couldn’t believe all the shit they sold in here. Amazing Green Grass Superfood, Deer Velvet Extract, Neptune Krill Oil, Organic Certified Noni Juice, Cranberry Proanthocyanidins, and more Omegas than there were cars on the 710 freeway. Did white folks really need all this shit to stay alive? No wonder people of color were taking over. All they needed was a bowl of kimchee and a fried baloney sandwich and they were good to go. He bought the Motherlove and went out to his car. There was a note on the windshield. He read it and dropped the Motherlove, an icy daddy long legs skittering up and down his spine. “Lord have mercy.”

  Hello there, Mr. Dodson! You and I have yet to meet so I will, without further ado, get to the point. I have recently come across some information that I’m quite sure might be of great interest to you. I have been informed by a source (unimpeachable) that you and your friends, Isaiah Quintabe and Deronda Simmons, are the individuals who, some years ago, relieved Junior (a drug dealer) of a large amount of money, and in doing so, caused him and a companion serious bodily harm. It would be in your best interest (and health) to meet me tomorrow at exactly 9 am Pacific Standard Time at 775 Atlantic Blvd, Long Beach, California 90803. Don’t be late. Warmest Regards. C Babbitt, Esq.

  When Dodson was seventeen, he lived in an apartment with Isaiah. Deronda was his girlfriend, and at the time, they were broke. They either had to come up with some cash or move out and be on the street. At Deronda’s urging, Dodson robbed a drug dealer named Junior, and in the process, things went very wrong. Junior and his bodyguard, Booze Lewis, were about to execute him when Isaiah came to the rescue. He shot and severely wounded both men. Michael Stokely was in charge of Junior’s security and the scariest muthafucka in the hood. He was humiliated. Junior, Booze, and Stokely were back on the street now, dangerous as ever. Dodson thought about showing the note to Isaiah but changed his mind. It would put that whole painful mess in the spotlight again and he’d endured enough humiliation with Deronda. He picked the Motherlove off the ground. No, he decided. He’d dig his way out of this all by himself.

  Chapter Two

  Everybody Pays Real Money

  The partners worked their first case together. The client was Carter Samuels, a police officer who was sleeping with Dodson’s Auntie May. She was twenty years his senior but they seemed to really care about each other. They went on dates to Huntington Beach, where they wouldn’t be recognized, they held hands, sent each other love texts, and bought each other presents. Auntie May wasn’t concerned about her religious convictions or that Carter was married and had three kids. When Dodson asked her about it she said, “The Bible says, ‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.’ Well, I wanted and the Lord came up big-time.”

  When Carter was a young man, he had appeared in an adult movie titled Wanda’s Hole in One, starring Wanda Wonder Lips. On the box cover, the grinning porn star, naked except for golf shoes, was bent over setting a golf ball on a tee. Carter played Caddy #1 and was featured in most of the scenes because of his extraordinary nine iron.

  Wanda was heard to remark, “Damn. Put a steering wheel on that thing and you could drive yourself home.” Unfortunately for Carter, Caddy #4, whose real name was Spencer Witherspoon, street name Spoon, had kept a copy of the movie on DVD.

  Carter met Isaiah and Dodson in the parking lot at Shop ’n Save. He was wearing his uniform and looked like somebody had driven a bus over his spirit. “Spoon’s blackmailing me,” he said. “He wants ten thousand dollars or he’ll spread that video all over town.”

  Isaiah had met Spoon some years ago. Isaiah was at the Coffee Cup, sitting at the counter, having breakfast. Suddenly, this drug-crazed wild man burst in, waving a gun. He pointed it at Verna.

  “Gimme the money and don’t fuck around,” he said. “Or I’ll shoot you right through your belly button.”

  Verna, whose strength of will was comparable to earthquakes and the Great Wall of China, refused. “I worked my fingers to the bone for this money, and I’m not giving you one red penny!” she said. Verna picked up a pan of cinnamon buns and threw it at him. Startled, Spoon fired into the air. As he raised his gun again, Isaiah barreled into him. They grappled briefly, but Spoon threw him off and escaped. Isaiah didn’t know him then, but eventually he identified him and put him in jail.

  “I know him,” Isaiah said. “He’s dangerous, an armed robber. I don’t know what he’s doing now.”

  Carter seemed preoccupied, giving Dodson a dubious look. “What are you doing here, Juanell?”

  “I’m Isaiah’s partner,” Dodson said.

  “You are? Last I heard, you were selling counterfeit Gucci bags out the trunk of your car.”

  “Go on, Carter,” Isaiah said.

  “I can’t afford ten thousand dollars,” Carter said in that strangled voice of the desperate. “We barely make it as it is. What’s my wife gonna say? What am I gonna tell my kids?”

  “What are you gonna tell my Auntie May?” Dodson said.

  Carter ignored that. “I’ll lose my job over this.”

  “Where does Spoon live?”

  Carter looked at Isaiah and low
ered his voice, which didn’t really matter since Dodson was sitting across from him. “He’s really your partner?” Carter said.

  “Yes, he’s my partner,” Isaiah replied before Dodson went off on him.

  “I don’t know where Spoon lives. I’ll run him through the system. You’ve gotta get me out of this, Isaiah. You’ve got to.”

  Ordinarily, Isaiah would have said something like Don’t worry, everything will be okay, but Dodson cut him off. “Let’s talk about fees, Carter.”

  “Fees?” Carter reacted like he’d never heard of such a thing. “Well, okay, how about this? I know a fella who installs burglar alarms. I can get you a big discount.”

  “That’s not gonna cut it, Carter. This is a complicated case and let me see…” Dodson did some imaginary calculations on his phone while he muttered to himself, “Two of us working on it…per diem…expenses…hazard surcharge.”

  “What are you talking about, hazard surcharge?” Carter said.

  “Spoon is a dangerous muthafucka who robs people with a gun. If that ain’t damn hazard I don’t know what is.”

  “Well, quit messing around and tell me what the damage is.”

  Dodson smiled like he was doing Carter a solid. “With the ten percent discount for first responders it comes to seven hundred and sixty-two dollars plus tax.”

  Carter was shocked. “Seven hundred and sixty-two dollars? Isaiah, are you listening to this?”

  Before Isaiah could reply, Dodson said, “I am in charge of the company’s billing department, so going forward, please direct your questions to me. If you’d like, we can put you on our financing plan, no interest for sixty days on your good credit.”

  “Wait, Dodson,” Isaiah said. “There’s no charge, Carter. We’ll take care of it.”

  “That’s more like it,” Carter said, with a triumphant look at Dodson. “I’ll get back to you on that address.”