“Cruise? You mean the party’s not going to be here?”
Rod emptied his glass and handed it to Mariah. “Sure it is. Day after tomorrow. But I’m planning on a nice, long trip next week. Floating on down to The Keys maybe. I’ll just take my crew here on down for some tropical fun.”
“Damn, you must have some heavy bread,” Hannibal said. He thought, Damn, you must have already sold the formula.
Got a nice deal in the works,” Rod said, his eyes glazing over as his face adopted a dreamy expression. “Soon as I tie up some loose ends with this deal I’m working on, life’s going to be the way it should have been all along.”
“All right! Sounds like your star’s on the rise,” Hannibal said. He thought, All right! He hasn’t completed the deal yet.
“Smoke, what’s coming is going to make everything before look like small time,” Rod said, rubbing Mariah’s head again. “I been working on this one for a long time. Had to make the right contacts, lay some groundwork, you know. But this is it, the big score, and after that I’ll have some serious juice.”
“I can see it. At sea, on your own yacht I bet, with just your posse here,” Hannibal said, checking the faces in the room. “Classy, but it seems to me things ain’t too balanced here. I count three fine ho’s, but only you two G’s.”
“We manage,” Derek called from the sofa.
Hannibal leaned in closer, pushing his sunglasses up his nose with an index finger. “Look here, an operator like you might need some serious backup when you roll with the big boys.” Halfway through that sentence Hannibal glanced over at Derek and snorted. “You know, somebody who’ll get some respect when they talk to people.” He felt Sheryl’s hand slowly rubbing his back. She had already switched sides.
Hannibal also felt Rod’s hard eyes assessing him. Had he overstepped? Holding eye contact with the man, Hannibal handed his glass to Sheryl and said, “I’m empty” in a flat tone. She hopped off his lap and headed for the kitchen. Rod’s smile grew in very small increments. His gaze shrank the room to just the two of them.
“I might be able to use somebody who knows how to make a deal.”
“I’m as street as they come,” Hannibal said, the easiest lie he had ever told. “Been hustling all my life. I know how to deal.”
“Can you fight?”
“I get the job done,” Hannibal said, grinning.
Rod turned toward Mariah, as if for a hug. “Takes more than muscle, right babe?”
Without warning his beefy arm swung back like a flail toward Hannibal’s smile.
17
Hannibal’s left hand snapped up, catching Rod’s wrist a couple of inches before the fist reached his face. Rod’s arm hung there in space, vibrating in Hannibal’s grip, testing his strength. That backhand blow might have broken Hannibal’s jaw if it had reached its target. Rage boiled up from his gut but he kept it locked behind clenched teeth. As much as he wanted to break Rod’s grinning face, he knew that a fight at this point would not get him any closer to his real objective, Anita Cooper’s stolen legacy. Instead he pushed his face even closer to Rod’s, pressing his chest against the arm of the chair, showing his teeth like an angry wolfhound. His free hand rose to his face and he slid his glasses away. His stare focused every ounce of his fury on Rod’s empty eyes.
“You do that again, sucker,” Hannibal said in a low flat voice, “you’d best be prepared to throw down.”
Rod returned his stare, and it was obvious that he was not intimidated. Hannibal noticed how quiet the room had become. No one moved. After a few tense seconds, Rod’s arm relaxed and he pulled it away from Hannibal’s grip. One eyebrow rose, and a new appraisal seemed to be taking place.
“They green?” Rod asked. It took Hannibal a moment to realize that the conversation had moved to a discussion of his eyes.
“Sometimes. Sometimes blue in the right light.”
Rod’s flash grin returned. “A nigger with hazel eyes. Well I’ll be damned.” He swung his hand forward at Hannibal’s head, but it was a playful feint this time, and Hannibal blocked it with ease. “You’re unique. I like unique. Fits in with my destiny.”
Hannibal backed away, swallowing Rod’s casual use of the hated word. A cold glass pushed into his hand, indicating that Sheryl was back. “Oh, you got a destiny and shit?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it sometime, if you end up sticking around.”
“Well, that might be interesting,” Hannibal said, standing, “but right now I’m getting a little itchy about where I left my ride.” Hannibal gulped down half of the beer. Everyone but Rod stood up, as if to recognize his leaving.
“I’ll drop you at your car,” Derek said.
“Don’t sweat yourself. Blondie here can take me. She knows where I’m parked.”
“I wouldn’t mind giving you a ride,” Mariah said, moving in and cutting Sheryl out of Hannibal’s space. She gave him a warm parting hug, one hand sliding into his back pocket to squeeze his behind. He held his smile, but caught the disapproval on Rod’s face and the disappointment on Sheryl’s. If he wanted to maintain the delicate balance in his relationship to Rod, he needed to be aware of the lines he should not cross.
“Maybe another time,” he said, returning the hug before pulling away. “For now, I think Sheryl will take good care of me. Let’s roll, Shorty.”
Sheryl pulled into a parking space three cars ahead of Hannibal’s car and pushed the gearshift into park. Hannibal thanked her for the lift and popped his door, more than ready to return to the normal world.
“Don’t you want to come up?” she asked. “For a drink or something?”
“Or something?”
By way of explanation, Sheryl leaned to the side and pressed a kiss onto Hannibal’s mouth. Despite its startling degree of passion, the kiss seemed tinged with desperation and loneliness, two things Hannibal didn’t expect a woman in her position to feel. But then, maybe being treated like a second-class citizen had its similarities to being alone.
“That’s nice babe, but I got things to do.”
“Don’t you like me?” Sheryl asked, sliding a hand across his chest. “You pulled me away from Derek, so you must want me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I get the chance to break you off, but you’re going to have to wait. I can drop by tomorrow.”
“But I’m ready right now,” she said, sliding her fingertips up the inside of his thigh. “And tomorrow we’re all going with Rod up to someplace in Maryland to pick up his car. Right now the apartment is empty. And I saw how Mariah was looking at you back at the house.”
“So?”
“So I might not get another chance at you,” Sheryl said, hiding her eyes for just a moment. “I know she’s prettier, but I know how to make you happy. I swear I do.”
Her tongue flicked into his ear. He turned his head to avoid it and found himself kissing her again. Hannibal struggled to keep his mind clear. Had Rod instructed her to seduce him, to test him, sexually? If so, it might seem suspicious if he resisted her too well. Or she could be a gift from Rod, stressing his ownership of his girls in the way he did with Marquita. In that case, Sheryl might be punished if she failed to arouse him.
She was panting now and somehow she was able to cling to him after he left her car. They managed to climb the stairs to Sheryl’s apartment while entwined like dates after the prom. Sheryl fumbled in her small purse, found the key, and got the door open. No yipping greeted them. He figured the dog was with Fay, that poor woman sitting across the street who must have hated Sheryl right then for bringing home a good time that she herself was interested in.
Once inside, Sheryl backed toward one of the bedrooms, pulling Hannibal along like a dancer whose waltz partner had decided to lead. But he was quite sure that waltzing was not her objective. He followed with awkward movements, not really sure of the steps in this particular dance.