Falling

Twenty Three (Caught)

"Park here, Trip!" Boss Man commands.

I brings the black SUV to a silent halt a block away from the proud bien venidos (welcome) sign that be push'n the Market entrance right up to the edge of the oppose'n side of the street.

It be open-in itself with a giant yawn, as if'n it was ponder'n a snack'n on the juggle'n bodies that are crowd'n around on the sidewalk below. Its overhang'n roof shade'n the people mingle'n in the shadows, an' escape'n from the hot sun that be follow'n them down the street.

People be mill'n around, come'n an' go'n. Some with flat shop'n bags wait'n for a fill'n. An' others bulge'n with the make-ins of fresh fix'ns for a tongue smack'n meal.

The Market's face breaks out into a smatter'n of little open-ins where all sorts of stuff is found.

Little, round tables be scattered on the cement walkway that starts at the street's edge and be move'n under the Market;s face. Fingers are a wrap'n around all kinds of paper cups, tall and short, filled with juices and coffees traded for by clank'n coins drop'n from one greedy hand ta another.

"What we be do'n now, Boss?" I asks.

I sees Boss Man be turn'n his face back an' eye'n the two guys in the back seat.

"You guys be a mingle'n in tha crowd. When ya sees where we meet Pappa Legba, be close'n in an' ready!"

Doors be open'n and return'n with a hand's slap of metal on metal. Trip's thumb pushes down on the lock button an' that ugly double beep flashes behind. Their feet be a step'n up an' take'n a hold onto the shadowy walk way under the Market's protect'n roof.

"There!" Trip whispers.

A sharp whoosh of air shoots out a his words. Right-swing'n eyes an' a nod of his head be give'n Boss Man a signal.

"Yeah! I sees 'im!" Boss Man whispers, catch'n Trip's words before they got a chance to make some trouble.

Silvery-white hair, glisten'n in the advance'n noon sunlight, mark Pappa Legba's regal entrance into Boss Man's line of sight.

Trip follows Boss Man's lead. He and I snuggle out of a crowd of happy faces an' come face ta face with the Witch.

Boss Man reaches out his right hand. Papa takes it, cold fingers wrap around Boss Man's warm hand. His brain starts a boil'n with what ifs and how comes.

"I had one of my men save a table for us," Papa Legba says.

His voice sounds low, like its echo'n in the belly of a big base drum.

"Ain't no-thin bad go'n to happen with all these people stand'n 'round," Boss Man says.

He hears chair's legs scrape across the gray cement an' a guy, who be look'n like he's been a eat'n his fill of rice and beans, stands an' takes two steps back. Papa takes his seat an' I settles into the one across from him.

Papa be lean'n back in his chair. A sly smile be a spread'n across his brown face. Black eyes be hide'n a gather'n storm he be a wish'n to use for a wash'n a power over what I be think'n.

I lets this moment a silence be a hang'n between us, an' be a drift'n into them shadows that's bend'n down over the table. Shadows be-in cast by the tall, strong men stand'n and wait'n behind us.

My eyes be follow'n his hand as he pulls a white card out of his shirt pocket. It dangles from his fingers an', then drops onto the table top.

Boss Man's eyes are arrows, not giving any sign of leaving mine. His plump, round cheeks snuggle up and cuddle his green eyes. Green, now that's an interesting color for a brown man's eyes. I'm intrigued by what's going on behind them.

The note, gently falling onto the rough wooden table draws my eyes to the black words neatly written across its face. My words, elegantly claiming their power over the white space and Boss Man.

"What be the meaning of this?"

Boss Man throws his words across the table. They slightly ruffle the note on their journey to my ears.

I'm letting him squirm a bit in this pot of emotion he's stirring up inside his head.

I let a moment slide out and bury his words.

"Just what they say, Boss Man." My words slip over the white paper like a whispering, warm ocean wave.

"I have two of your men locked up tight and safe...In a little room...down the dark end of a lonely hallway..."

"My men?" I an't let'n him get no satisfaction from me refer'n to the note he sent yesterday.

Boss Man's eyes glare like flashing metal.

"Well...Yes. A white guy...Who some claimed had the eye. But...Well...We fixed that. He won't be eyeing anyone now."

I let that little tidbit of news sink into Boss Man's overworked brain. His cheeks drop down over a tell tale frown grabbing at the corners of his lips.

"Oh...I almost forgot. I also have Squito...Your favorite snitch. We just hurt him a little in the process of accessing information." Let's let that bit of news sink in for a moment.

I feel the buzz of my cell phone. It's clear plastic face is giving my eyes some unhappy images. The heavy murky, low light gives them a hazy aura of ghostly forms trundling down the hallway. As they progress into lighter parts I recognize Sam and Squito...with two women and another man. How did they escape? How were they able to find them down there...in Hell's Corner?

Papa Legba's power grab'n eyes has been a captured by his phone. A worry'n look takes a hold of his smooth face.

All a sudden like...There's a rustle'n in the crowd under the sign where the Market's inner work-ins be spill'n out to the street an' the table where we be sit'n.

Papa Legba drops his phone, stands up real sudden like an' his man fires a gun shot straight up into tha roof.

The crowd breaks into scream'n an' rush'n around like there be a fire an' sparks fall'n down. Some just be a throw'n theys bodies onto the cement floor.

Then, I sees them...The only ones stand'n straight up.

"Lyla!" I yells.

My two men hustles up and draws their guns. A gun point'n duel...Papa's men and mine be frozen...point'n...An' everything be go-in silent...Nothin' move'n...Everybody be frozen...Wait'n.