Black Buck(106)

Kujoe. That rat motherfucker. Right in my own house, at Sumwun, in front of my own face. How did I not see this? He must have warned Clyde about the hacking and told him about us in the first place. Right before I tried to get more info, my phone rang. It was Jason.

“One second, guys,” I said, getting up, unclenching my fist.

“Hello?”

“Yo, come to HQ.”

“For what?”

He laughed. “I gotta surprise for you.”

A surprise? I didn’t want any surprises, especially from him. “What is it?”

“Man,” he said, sucking his teeth so hard my ear vibrated. “If I told you, it wouldn’ be a surprise, now would it? Stop playin’ and get over here.”

“Aight.”

I walked back over to the table and said I had to go.

“Come on,” Frodo pleaded, his lips as glossy as a freshly waxed floor. “We never get to hang anymore.”

“I’m sorry. This was fun, though. Let’s do it again next month.”

“See you, Buck,” Marissa said, planting a greasy kiss on my cheek.

“Peace, Eddie,” I said, leaning in for a hug. “Good luck with your guy. What’s his name again? Prince Akeem?”

He sealed his lips with his fingers, twisted them, and threw the key over his shoulder. “Nice try.”



* * *





I stood at the base of the stairs and saw the second-floor lights on before stepping inside.

“Yo,” I called, looking into an empty room full of phones on the first floor. There were usually people there, but it was a Friday. I guessed Rose had sent them home early.

As I walked upstairs, I saw a dark figure standing on the second-floor landing.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Mr. Buck? It’s Jake. Dang, Jason lost his goddamn mind, I swear. There’s somethin’ goin’ on in there, but he’s not lettin’ anyone in. It’s jus’ him ’n’ Rose, ’n’ they tol’ everyone to leave. If somethin’s goin’ down, I gotta know. It’s my job.”

I moved him aside and knocked.

“Who is it? I told y’all to bounce.”

“Jason, it’s me.”

“Finally.”

He cracked the door open and looked around. “Jus’ you,” he said, keeping his eyes on Jake. “And don’ speak too loudly.”

The kitchen and living room were empty save for Rose and someone tied to a thick plank of wood propped up by two sawhorses. A black cloth bag covered the person’s head, and there was a large empty bucket underneath.

“What the fuck did you do?” I pushed past Jason and stood in front of the man. “Who is this?”

Rose laughed. “It’s Justin Bieber,” she said, slapping the man’s head so hard it sounded like heavy water hitting pavement.

The man twisted his body and screamed, his voice muffled like he was underwater.

“We gagged him with some sock we found under the couch and jammed in ear plugs so he can’t hear shit,” Jason said proudly. “But keep your voice down. Don’ know the quality of the ear plugs. Prolly some knockoff shit.”

“No, I think they’re industrial,” Rose said.

“What. The. Fuck. Is going on here?” I whispered, looking back and forth between them.

“What do you think, Buckaroo? We’re fighting back. That whole hacking thing was a dud. And since you vetoed our plan to blackmail Clyde with his Black male, it’s time for some real action.”

I looked at Jason, standing with his arms folded over his chest, grinning like someone about to cannonball into a pool and make a mess.

“This isn’t who I think it is, is it?”

Rose shrugged. “It’s not not who you think it is.”

“Tha’s right,” Jason said, eyes popping like Malcolm McDowell’s in A Clockwork Orange. “And we ’bout to go straight Guantánamo on his ass.”

“Spanish Inquisition,” Rose corrected. “I think they did it first.”

“Are you both out of your minds?!” I shouted. “This is serious as fuck, man. If we get caught, we’re not only done but we’re also going to jail.”

“Since when did you get so pussy, nigga? I wan’ that guy who punched me in the face las’ year. It was a bitch move, but at leas’ it was a move. Damn. Plus”—Jason placed a hand on my shoulder—“you not really runnin’ the show anymore, bro.”

Rose reached under the black bag and removed the dirty sock from Clyde’s mouth and the plugs from his ears. He sucked in a huge breath of air. “You’re all going to die for this,” he coughed. “You think you can just kidnap whoever you want? I’m Clyde Reynolds Moore the Third! The fucking Third. Do you know what that means?”

“Not really,” Rose said. She rolled the black bag up to the bottom of his nose and laid a rag over his mouth. “But I’m sure it means your daddy’s daddy’s daddy probably owned some enslaved people. And that the land your daddy’s daddy’s daddy owned was passed down through the years, accruing generational wealth along the way and lining your pockets with money made from cotton picked by the very enslaved people they owned.”