Hannibal winked at Fay as he stepped out of his car. He didn’t think she recognized him at first, which would have been no surprise. He had not been sure he recognized himself in the mirror that morning. After winning his bet with Monte, Huge had taken some delight in helping Hannibal get into character for his return to Mariah’s place. Under Huge’s stylish eye he had learned to tie a do-rag, knotted at the back of his head. When he said he was aiming at “low level hustler,” Huge had escorted him to what he described as the low-rent hustler’s boutique: the nearest Wal-Mart.
Huge recommended a simple white tank style undershirt and dark cargo pants. The pants needed to be hanging lower than Hannibal was comfortable with. Huge’s fashionable compromise was for them to be worn over a pair of swim trunks. He completed the look with a pair of black and white shell toed sneakers. Hannibal was stunned to be able to put the whole “costume” together for about thirty bucks.
“Am I cool now?” Hannibal had asked.
“Too cool,” Huge had said, snatching the Oakley’s from Hannibal’s face. “You said low level hustler, right?” Huge replaced Hannibal’s shades with the first pair of black plastic sunglasses he saw on a nearby rack. “Now you got the cheap hustler thing going on.”
Hannibal was at least happy about the undershirt choice. It was another hot day, mid-eighties even with the ocean breeze coming in from the East. But he didn’t think the weather was what prompted Fay to allow her knees to lazily drift apart while she smiled at him. He figured he must now fit the profile of the men who qualified for her unsubtle flirting. He nodded a quick thank-you for the offer and turned toward Mariah’s stairs.
Hannibal’s plan was simple. He would introduce himself to Mariah and come up with some excuse for her to introduce him to Mantooth. If he hung around for a while he would either figure out where Mantooth would hide something valuable or learn that he had already cashed in on the Cooper formula. Whether or not Mantooth had already turned the formula into money would determine his next move.
At the top of the stairs he rapped at the small pane in the top of the door. After the third series of knocks he accepted that no one was home. This was an unexpected wrinkle in his day. Had she been and gone? He could certainly get an update from Fay across the street. He really didn’t want to play games with her, but he might not have any choice.
Halfway down the stairs Hannibal found himself faced with another visitor about to climb them. He took her in at a glance: pale complexion, platinum blonde hair hanging past shoulder length, big bosom, narrow waist, long legs. She wore spike heels and a short, white denim skirt. In place of a shirt or blouse she wore a yellow bikini top. Lemon yellow, he reflected, and one more article that he would have given no significance a month ago. A braided leather choker encircled her neck.
The girl paused on the fourth step, looking up at him in surprise. Hannibal did not want to be established as the one who didn’t belong there, so he spoke first.
“You looking for Mariah?” he asked in stern voice.
“No,” she said, spinning a key chain on her finger. “I just came back to pick up some stuff.”
Her Nordic blue eyes held questions, but her words and keys had answered his. “You must be the roommate,” he said, holding out a hand. “They call me Smoke.”
“Really? I’m Sheryl.” She offered her fingertips for a barely-there handshake. For an awkward moment they shared the staircase. Then Hannibal stepped aside and waved Sheryl forward. She offered a shallow bow and went to the door. When she unlocked the door Hannibal followed her inside. The apartment smelled like dry dog food. Sheryl looked around, surprised but not resistant. Hannibal crossed his arms and leaned back against the door.
“She’s not here,” Sheryl said, waving a hand at the rest of the apartment. Her swirl-patterned nails extended her fingers by almost an inch.
“That’s all right,” Hannibal said with a cold smirk. “You’re going to take me to her.” Then he locked her eyes in place with his and would not let them go. He stayed in character and tried to project the attitude he had observed during his chat room visits. After a few seconds he could see tiny tremors in her shoulders. Finally she pointed behind herself without moving her eyes from his.
“I, um, have to get some stuff.”
“Then get it and let’s go,” Hannibal said.
Sheryl’s eyes shifted left and right. Then she darted into the rear of the apartment. Hannibal heard barking and yipping from the unseen room. A dresser or bureau slid across the floor. Then it moved back into place. The dog whined the way small dogs do when an owner rubs them but they know they’ll soon be alone. Then came the hurried click of stiletto heels and Sheryl appeared, carrying a medium sized handbag.
‘What’s in there?” Hannibal asked.
“Stuff,” she said. When he pushed away from the door she added, “It’s for Rod.”
He opened the door. “I’ll follow you.”
Halfway down the stairs, Sheryl said, “You might not want to do this.”
“What, meet Mariah? You afraid she’s not my type?”
At the bottom of the stairs she stopped and turned. “I know Mariah can be wild, and I bet she gave you a serious come on, but…”
“But?”
“Mariah, she’s Rod’s girl.”
“You mean one of his girls,” Hannibal said. “I bet you are too.”
“No, no really,” she grabbed his forearm. “Mariah likes to flirt but she’s Rod’s girl and things could get real ugly if another guy shows up looking for her. Ugly for her.”
Hannibal took Sheryl’s wrist to lift her hand from his arm. He held her arm vertically, squeezing and gritting his teeth against the part he had to play. He increased the pressure until she gasped. His voice dropped into a hoarse, grating whisper.
“Listen here, bitch. I will get real ugly unless you get in your car and take me to her. Ugly on your ass. You feel me?”
Sheryl whimpered and gave a series of vigorous nods. Hannibal forced a smile as he released her. She hurried to her car, a white Volkswagen beetle. Hannibal opened the passenger door, waved good-bye to Fay, and settled in next to Sheryl.
Sheryl was a timid driver, which was all right with Hannibal while they traveled through residential areas. Again he rode through the familiar streets and watched the neighborhoods shift. He could pay more attention to his surroundings now that he wasn’t driving. Children scampered, streetlights changed and before long, well-tended residences became expensive rental properties. During the drive Hannibal fiddled with her radio until he found a hip-hop station. He couldn’t sing along, but Sheryl could watch him bob his head beside her. It would help to establish his character. She didn’t talk during their journey. Hannibal wondered if that was due to fear of him or of Rod’s reaction when they arrived.
When they reached the two story brick house with the white picket fence Sheryl pulled her Beetle into the driveway. There was off-street parking for three but hers was the only vehicle present. Stepping out of the car, Hannibal noticed how quiet the neighborhood seemed. It felt deserted, but he suspected that experience had taught Mantooth’s neighbors that it was best to stay out of sight. By the time Hannibal walked through the gate, Sheryl had been to the door and was on her way back down the walk.
“There’s nobody home,” she said, shrugging. “No point hanging around here, right? Let’s go back to my place and party, huh? I got the stuff in my purse.”
Hannibal was sure that “the stuff” was one of the many illegal substances people used to enhance the “party” experience. But he had no interest in sex right then and even less interest in this girl whom he thought of as Lemon. He was wondering how long it would take him to search what looked like a five-bedroom house. Hannibal had not wanted Rod to see his car, in case he wanted to maintain surveillance on the man later, but now he wondered if he should have driven. As it was there was little chance of a quick getaway if one were called for. He was weighing the risk of getting caught rifling Rod’s place when a movement down the block caught his attention. He whipped around, scanning the street, but didn’t see anyone. Had there been a man back there, peering over the hood of that parked Continental?
Hannibal had lost that feeling of being followed on the long drive down from Washington, but here it was again. Did Huge send backup? No, not his style. Sarge? He could never have tailed Hannibal without being spotted long before now. Was Rod smart enough to post a lookout?
Before Hannibal could even process his own thoughts, a Jeep with an inefficient muffler roared around the corner. The vehicle almost tipped over as the driver, a young white kid with bulbous shoulders, whipped it into the driveway. Mariah hopped out of the back with a bag of groceries. In person, Hannibal could plainly see that she was Hawaiian or from some other Pacific Island. A second girl climbed more carefully out of the topless vehicle. The cherry bathing suit barely covered the important parts of a young black girl with smooth creamy skin and straightened hair. She was thicker than Anita in the thighs and hips, but otherwise the same make and model. The driver, a transplanted surfer-dude from the West Coast, stepped down and waved to Sheryl.
Rod Mantooth walked around from the passenger’s side. His obsidian eyes scanned Hannibal up and down like an x-ray machine. He had a killer smile, the kind you see on torturers in World War II movies. Hannibal stood his ground as Rod moved toward him like an ebb tide. In person, the man was a primal force, raw energy, and suddenly Hannibal understood.
Rod stopped within three inches of Hannibal, craning his bull neck to stare into Hannibal’s face with a coarse defiance, which his mild words belied.
“I see Sheryl brought company. And what’s your name, dude?”
Hannibal stared back, fighting an unexpected urge to back down. Rod must have expected every dog to tuck his tail when they met. If he thought of himself as the alpha male he would suppose the rest of the world saw him that way too. Hannibal knew he had to show his teeth.
“They call me Smoke. Who the hell are you?”
Hannibal could feel the other four holding their breath while Rod took stock of him.
“I’m the dude who owns the house you’re standing in front of, dude. This is my crew.”
Hannibal nodded and jerked his chin at Mariah. “I come looking for her.”
“Oh, you know Mariah?” Rod turned toward her, and she reacted. She appeared to feel something, maybe a jolt of fear. If so, her face said it felt good.
“Not really,” Hannibal said. “Spotted her on the boardwalk a couple of nights ago and it looked like she was a good connection for some… product. She belong to you?”
“That’s right,” Rod said, thrusting a hand toward Hannibal. “Rod Mantooth. You want to talk to Mariah, you talk to me.” Hannibal took Rod’s fist in his own and endured a fierce, crushing grip. Because he expected it, he managed to keep his hand from being mashed.
“So, I guess you the man,” Hannibal said. “That’s cool. I don’t know nobody down this way, not yet anyway, so I guess I need to know you. Let’s go inside and talk a little business.”
Rod seemed to still be evaluating Hannibal when Mariah closed in on them. Hannibal noticed that her white, spaghetti strap heels were also quite high. Three-inch heels made good legs look great but Cindy had told him they were bad for the feet. These girls didn’t seem to mind. Mariah showed small but perfect teeth and ran her fingertips up Hannibal’s chest.
“Let’s keep him, daddy,” she said over her shoulder to Rod. “I might get bored while you’re training the newbie.”
Rod smiled with only one side of his mouth. “We’ll see if you earn that kind of a reward. Come on inside, dude.”
They walked through the porch, which was choked with wicker furniture. Crossing the main threshold Hannibal spotted an alarm box beside the doorsill. A small white fixture hung in the upper left corner of the room. A motion sensor, Hannibal knew. Rod certainly didn’t want any uninvited visitors.
The house itself was cool inside but that wasn’t the reason that Hannibal felt small bumps rising on his skin. He sensed an odd tone, a mood filling the air as if an electric undercurrent connected everyone in the room. Mariah appeared to float free, not at all like the captive woman Sheryl had implied. The blonde boy rested a hand on the back of Sheryl’s neck, guiding her steps and making a clear declaration of ownership. The third girl, the one Hannibal still had labeled Cherry in his mind, stayed in Rod’s trail, following at a respectful distance. She didn’t seem as comfortable in the heels or in the atmosphere as the others were, but her tentative smile expressed a brave effort to show she had what it takes. Hannibal stopped in the middle of the room, looking at no one in particular.
“Hey, Bucktooth. Any of these other people got names?”
A quick flash of anger rose and just as quickly faded in Rod’s eyes. “It’s Mantooth, dude. My man here is Derek. He takes care of people who can’t remember my name right.”
The younger man stepped forward and shook Hannibal’s hand. “Derek Steel,” he said through an exaggerated smile.
“Derek Steel?” Hannibal repeated. “That your real name, or you work in porn?”
Derek’s face darkened in a diluted imitation of Rod’s. “Do it say Smoke on your birth certificate, wiseass?”
“All right, don’t get excited,” Hannibal said, already knowing that at some point he was going to have to kick this boy’s ass. “Derek it is. Now what about the ladies?”
“I guess you already know Sheryl,” Rod said. The platinum blonde lowered her gaze to smile at Hannibal’s shoes. “Mariah, she’s the queen bee.” To Hannibal’s surprise, Mariah also faced him and lowered her eyes. “The new girl is Missy.” Again, eyes lowered and her head bowed. Derek chuckled and Rod wore a look of pride. Hannibal’s impression was that he was fishing for a compliment.
“You sure got them trained good.”
“Ah, a man who knows,” Rod said. “Sheryl, get Smoke a beer.” Sheryl’s head bowed slightly again, and she walked as quickly as she could without running toward the kitchen. Like that, Hannibal was accepted. Rod pressed his fists into his waist and made another proclamation.
“You girls get those groceries put away while I show Smoke around the place.”
Rod ushered Hannibal upstairs for a tour. They peeked into three bedrooms with queen size beds and another, Rod’s of course, that held a king size bed. Hannibal also noticed the alarms wired to every window. On their way back down a hall they met Sheryl. She was holding a tall mug with both hands. As Hannibal approached her, she presented it to him with a smile and another small bow of her head.
“Thanks,” he said, accepting the mug. Then, unsure if thank you was expected under the circumstances, he added, “Good girl.” Better to be condescending, he thought. Sheryl’s face brightened, and she glanced at Rod as if she had made some point. Rod ignored her and moved Hannibal on through the house.
They returned to the ground floor to see the two smaller bedrooms. One of them held only a single bed. The fifth held no bed at all, having been converted into an office. A computer and every peripheral Hannibal could name were crowded onto a cheap desk, the kind you buy as a kit and have to assemble. The computer’s flat screen monitor still bore a small sticker indicating that it had been a free upgrade. Brand new, Hannibal thought. He noted the stack of CD ROMs on the desk, but doubted that the disc Rod stole from Anita would be lying there among the clutter.
“Nice setup,” Hannibal said. “How fast is it?” He stepped forward toward the computer desk. Rod’s right arm shot forward, barring Hannibal’s progress.
“You don’t go in there.”
“Hey, I just wanted to see…”
“It’s seven hundred megahertz,” Rod said. “The house came with the high speed cable internet connection. And, you don’t go in there.”
“Okay. I’m not the kind that gets in somebody else’s stash.”
“That’s good,” Rod said with a cold smile. “Bad things happen to that kind.”
Hannibal’s voice dropped low and he held Rod’s eyes. “Yeah, like the shit that happens to guys who threaten me.” Then he raised his palms, smiled and stepped back. Challenging Rod was not the way to get into his sick little family. Hannibal would have to surrender the alpha male position but retain enough respect to capture, and maintain a firm grip on, the number two spot.
Turning away he noticed that Mariah had seen their exchange. She diverted her eyes from his but her smile communicated far more than her eyes would have. Then Rod snapped her name and she almost shivered. The warm frisson of fear, Hannibal thought. A chill. A tingle. That same feeling he enjoyed on a good roller coaster as a kid. She got it from Rod, and she seemed to like it.
“Go tell Missy it’s time for her to model those new swim suits. Want her to look just right for our little party. We’ll be in the living room waiting.”
Mariah dared a pout. “You’re going to pick her,” she said in a voice dripping with disappointment. He raised an eyebrow, and she hurried away.
In the living room Hannibal surveyed the scene for dynamics. A white leather sofa sat beside a black leather recliner. A white easy chair was turned at a ninety-degree angle to the recliner. A small coffee table was in front of the sofa. Sandalwood scented smoke drifted up from a stick of incense burning on the table. The ottoman at the end of the coffee table was accessible from either chair.
Rod plopped into the big recliner. Derek planted himself in the center of the white leather sofa, his arms stretched across its back. He was comfortable in his place as second chair, dominating the part of the room that Rod didn’t hold. Too bad for him.
Sheryl entered the room from the far side, nearer Rod than Derek. She paused as Hannibal crossed in front of her, hooking the ottoman with a foot and dragging it closer to Rod’s chair. He turned to sit on the ottoman and face Rod. Sheryl started to pass him, moving toward the sofa.
“So tell me big man,” Hannibal began, “what’s this big party you were telling Mariah about?” As he spoke his left hand darted out, fingers sliding into the back of Sheryl’s waistband. Without losing eye contact with Rod, he pulled her down onto his knee. He could only imagine the exchange of expressions between her and Derek. He had to keep his attention on Rod to demonstrate that Derek’s reaction, and Sheryl’s feeling on the matter, were of no concern to him. Rod’s grin told him that he had made the right move.
“You know, I got an instinct for people,” Rod said, pushing the chair back and raising the footrest. “I like you. I think you and me, we’re from the same school.”
While Hannibal tried to keep the acid bile down out of his throat, Mariah stepped back into the room. Hannibal noticed that the other two men had dropped their shoes at the door. Mariah had changed from her beach flip-flops to white spike heels. She tapped over to Rod, whispered, “She’s ready” through a seductive smile, and lowered herself to her knees in one smooth motion. Shifting over onto one hip she rested both hands on the arm of the chair with practiced grace, and centered her chin on the backs of her hands. It was “I Dream of Genie” cute, and Rod rewarded her with a pat on the head. Hannibal had seen it described in writing on a screen, but watching a woman actually move through those motions was entirely different.
“She’s exquisite,” Hannibal said. “I take it the sister is newer.”
Rod actually glowed at the compliment. “Yeah, well, some guys raise retrievers, right? This is harder, but a lot more rewarding. Okay, Missy, you’re on.”
All eyes followed Missy’s entrance. She wore a one-piece suit in the same cherry red as the bikini she had on before. She stepped across the room as if she was on a runway and flipped her long, thick mass of straightened black hair in a childish imitation of a fashion model move. She turned slowly, arching her back a little. Even on the exposed parts of her perfectly rounded behind her complexion was uniform, smooth and even, like Belgian chocolate. Rod nodded and smiled, and waved her away.
“Isn’t she the sweetest?” he said when Missy was gone. “Mariah found her. Practically begged to get in with us. I think she knows who can train her right. The party I mentioned before will be her, uh, her initiation. After that, I’m thinking of a long sea voyage. I’m getting sick of this place.”
“Really?” Hannibal said. “Wish I could just get in the wind for a while. Had to leave D.C. in kind of a hurry.”
Missy returned in another red outfit. This time she wore a satin tank top that didn’t quite hang to her navel, and a thong that left her rear completely exposed. After noticing the perfect shape of her legs as they moved, Hannibal’s gaze moved up to her eyes. The smile was real, but he could see that Missy wasn’t totally comfortable in this bathing suit. He didn’t understand why a woman would agree to embarrass herself this way, but it reflected a weakness of spirit that made him ache in a place he couldn’t identify.
“So, a big party, eh?” he said, keeping his emotions out of his voice. “Sounds like big fun, especially if this initiation is what I expect it is.”
Speaking across Rod’s lap, Mariah said, “I’m hoping that Daddy will invite you tomorrow night, Smoke. He’ll be occupied for quite a while with the newbie and I’ll need someone to,” he hung on the sigh that filled her long pause, before she said, “talk to.”
Hannibal’s urge to answer was interrupted by a gentle hand kneading his shoulder. Sheryl seemed to be expressing an interest in him too.
“That’s the one,” Rod bellowed, capturing everyone’s attention. “That’s the outfit for you, Missy. You wear that to the party, and in fact I think you should have it for the big cruise.”
Missy smiled and nodded her head in a move that was almost a curtsy. She left the room a bit faster than necessary, as is she was in a hurry to get out of sight. Hannibal wished he could comfort her, tell her that the nightmare she had volunteered for would end soon, but his focus was on Rod’s words.
“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.