though it felt more like a bunker than a house. “I just got home from one fuck of a case. Rough one, Johnny. Almost called you in for backup. But I put him away. Shot him point-blank through the heart. He earned it, for sure. Sleazy fucker. Earth’s a bit lighter without him on it.” She paused to take another drag. “So go ahead, sweetheart. Make my day.”
The Boss felt his shoulders drop. He wished he were lying in bed next to her, having a Scotch while she had her smoke, watching her run her fingers through her cropped black hair, watching her mind work. But talking would have to do. He started from the beginning and told her every detail until she was able to set him straight. Talking to Babs was like breathing fresh air. Now he was ready to get back to work.
He hailed a cab and put a call in to Fritz. It was time for him to get back to the office, run a case, get his game back. He’d reinvent his business now that everything had changed and transform it into one hell of an operation. The space he had been given was room to create anew. He was an excellent entrepreneur, and he was ready to take things to the next level.
“Fritz?” he said when she answered. “It’s John. Time for us to meet.”
6
LISA BEE HAD really had enough. She wasn’t sure what she and Jackson were doing, but it felt like a wild-goose chase. Or rather, it felt like a wild-goose chase turned pub crawl. Jackson had said he was looking for an old friend who had some information, but it just seemed like they kept stopping in different bars for drinks. She was still annoyed with him for his behavior earlier, and this wasn’t helping matters. What on earth was going on? And why did everyone he knew refer to him as Khalid?
They were in yet another bar, this one an old hole-in-the-wall that looked like a bomb shelter. It had whitewashed curved ceilings and was sparsely furnished with a small bar, no windows, and a single disco ball. Traditional Sufi music blared from a portable stereo that sat in one corner and looked like the one Lisa Bee’s parents kept on the porch for crawfish boils and fish fries when she was a kid. Jackson ordered them two Casablanca beers and sat across from her. He smiled and toasted, swallowing a large gulp. “This was my fave place to hang growing up, Lady Bee,” he said. “Mahmoud and I got in all sorts of trouble from things we planned here.”
Lisa Bee let out a long huff. “Listen, Jackie, I’d love to hear more about Mahmoud doing just about anything, but what’s going on here? Several lives are on the line, and I’m being forced to endure a walking tour of your youth. And everyone calls you Khalid. What gives?”
For the first time since Lisa Bee had known him, Jackson looked ashamed, like a boy caught stealing candy from a five-and-dime. He cast his eyes down and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before now, but it’s pretty complicated. My name is Khalid here in Tangier. My parents gave me two names to protect me while we traveled, and it just kinda stuck. Right now we’re waiting for the owner of this place to come back—he’s an old friend of mine. I figured we could chat a bit until he gets here, but no biggie if you don’t wanna.”
“Jackson!” she snapped. “They’re all supposedly old friends, but nobody is giving you what you need! And you won’t even tell me what we’re looking for; you just keep dragging me to place after place, telling me stories of your youth. Can’t you just tell me what the hell is going on so we can do our fucking jobs?”
Jackson looked surprised and muttered “ Dammit all to hell! ” under his breath. Then he sat up straighter and threw his shoulders back, puffing his chest out. He grabbed his beer and downed the whole thing in one fierce chug. “Sorry, Bee,” he said, trying to collect himself. “I owe you one fuck of an apology. There’s a whole community here of people who Mahmoud and I grew up with, and we think one of them
The Boss felt his shoulders drop. He wished he were lying in bed next to her, having a Scotch while she had her smoke, watching her run her fingers through her cropped black hair, watching her mind work. But talking would have to do. He started from the beginning and told her every detail until she was able to set him straight. Talking to Babs was like breathing fresh air. Now he was ready to get back to work.
He hailed a cab and put a call in to Fritz. It was time for him to get back to the office, run a case, get his game back. He’d reinvent his business now that everything had changed and transform it into one hell of an operation. The space he had been given was room to create anew. He was an excellent entrepreneur, and he was ready to take things to the next level.
“Fritz?” he said when she answered. “It’s John. Time for us to meet.”
6
LISA BEE HAD really had enough. She wasn’t sure what she and Jackson were doing, but it felt like a wild-goose chase. Or rather, it felt like a wild-goose chase turned pub crawl. Jackson had said he was looking for an old friend who had some information, but it just seemed like they kept stopping in different bars for drinks. She was still annoyed with him for his behavior earlier, and this wasn’t helping matters. What on earth was going on? And why did everyone he knew refer to him as Khalid?
They were in yet another bar, this one an old hole-in-the-wall that looked like a bomb shelter. It had whitewashed curved ceilings and was sparsely furnished with a small bar, no windows, and a single disco ball. Traditional Sufi music blared from a portable stereo that sat in one corner and looked like the one Lisa Bee’s parents kept on the porch for crawfish boils and fish fries when she was a kid. Jackson ordered them two Casablanca beers and sat across from her. He smiled and toasted, swallowing a large gulp. “This was my fave place to hang growing up, Lady Bee,” he said. “Mahmoud and I got in all sorts of trouble from things we planned here.”
Lisa Bee let out a long huff. “Listen, Jackie, I’d love to hear more about Mahmoud doing just about anything, but what’s going on here? Several lives are on the line, and I’m being forced to endure a walking tour of your youth. And everyone calls you Khalid. What gives?”
For the first time since Lisa Bee had known him, Jackson looked ashamed, like a boy caught stealing candy from a five-and-dime. He cast his eyes down and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before now, but it’s pretty complicated. My name is Khalid here in Tangier. My parents gave me two names to protect me while we traveled, and it just kinda stuck. Right now we’re waiting for the owner of this place to come back—he’s an old friend of mine. I figured we could chat a bit until he gets here, but no biggie if you don’t wanna.”
“Jackson!” she snapped. “They’re all supposedly old friends, but nobody is giving you what you need! And you won’t even tell me what we’re looking for; you just keep dragging me to place after place, telling me stories of your youth. Can’t you just tell me what the hell is going on so we can do our fucking jobs?”
Jackson looked surprised and muttered “ Dammit all to hell! ” under his breath. Then he sat up straighter and threw his shoulders back, puffing his chest out. He grabbed his beer and downed the whole thing in one fierce chug. “Sorry, Bee,” he said, trying to collect himself. “I owe you one fuck of an apology. There’s a whole community here of people who Mahmoud and I grew up with, and we think one of them
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