“I’ll do that right now, Mr.Sloan.”
“Every day.”
“Pardon?”
“Send her a bouquet every day.Starting today.Not the samecolor.But the same size.”
“Right.Every day.Not the same color but large.”
“Very large.”
“Of course, Mr.Sloan.Anything else?”she asked.
“Not right now.”
“Okay, then.I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Kelly.”
“My pleasure, Mr.Sloan.”
He flipped his phone shut and drew a breath in through hisnostrils.
He was trying unsuccessfully not to allow what he saw onthat tape to run through his head.
As he was unsuccessful at this, he flipped his phone openagain and made another call.
“Marcus,” Shirleen Jackson answered.
“You or your nephew find him, you bring him to me.”
There was a moment of silence before she replied, “That’snot the deal we just made with Smithie.”
“I’ll handle Smithie.”
“You got chops, Marcus, but the angry black man who juststormed outta my house is not a man I’mthinkin’ evenyou can handle.”
“They’re close,” he shared with her.
“Know that.He didn’t say it but I think I got it.But thatonly makes it worse.Bottom line, she’s a Smithie’s girl and she got raped inhis own goddamned parking lot.Doesn’t matter to him she came back because sheforgot something so he didn’t know she was on the premises.Only matters to himthat his shit-for-brains security guy left the cameras so his waitressgirlfriend could give him ahandjobin thehandicapped bathroom stall.This means he wasgettin’off when he should have been at his post,catchin’that shit andshuttin’ it down so it didn’t happen.Wasn’t Smithie who got ahandjobbut he’s takin’ thatall on his shoulders.He’sfeelin’ a weight and thatshit is heavy.So like I said, this is not a man who can be handled and I’m notthinkin’ that’sgonnachange any time in, hmm…I don’t know, say the next century.”
“How many children does Smithie have, Shirleen?”Marcusasked.
“I can’t keep tabs.Brother keepsaddin’to his army,” she muttered.
“Regardless, I’m sure they’d prefer him running his club andnot serving twenty to life.”
Shirleen had no comment to this.
“You find him, you bring him to me.”
“Can we play with him first?”she requested.
“Be my guest.”
“Marcus Sloan, always generous.”She was again mutteringthen she ended it.“Later.”
“Good-bye, Shirleen.”
