Lemmon's Journey

Chapter Twelve

His eyes fluttered awake to the thudding sound sounding off in his head. The room was in darkness. His hand groped to the side and almost knocked down the bedside lamp before he found the switch. Lemmon sat up when he realized the thudding noise was actually someone knocking on his door. He came down from the bed and looked confused when his feet stepped on his shirt on the floor. His clothes were strewn over the chair beside the table. He scratched his head, still contemplating stepping on his shirt the knocking sounded off again, breaking his reverie.

Lemmon unlocked the door and peeked first to see Reggie standing in the corridor. Lemmon undid the door’s security bolt and let him in.

“What’s up, old man. You forgot we’ve got an engagement tonight?” Reggie’s eyes went everywhere. “Not too bad,” he meant the room’s outlook. “Not too shabby either. I’ve heard a lot of bad stuff about this place.”

Lemmon locked the door and Reggie stepped aside for him to pick his shirt. The time on his watch told him 09:34 P.M.

“I dozed off pretty good,” he said.

“Must have done more than a doze, old man.” Reggie lifted his clothes from the chair to the bed and sat down. “I’ve been knocking your door for a while now. Thought maybe I’d scared you into a heart attack or something.”

“If you’d knocked any longer, I would have.”

“How come you ain’t got yourself a cell phone? You do know what a cell phone is don’t you, old man?”

“I’m going to tell you for the millionth time to quit calling me that?”

“However way you want it,” Reggie crackled. “This here is New York. Beings years since I saw any dude survive this city without owning a cell phone. You could get yourself a pre-paid one if you want. Hell, for fifty bucks I can give you the hook-up on one, just say the word.”

“Don’t think I need it just yet.”

“Suit yourself. You still set on for stepping out tonight night?”

“I think so. You know where we can find the Wilkes fellow?”

“I know where he’s bound to be tonight. I hollered a couple of cats I used to roll with and they gave me some intel. If we hurry now, we can maybe catch him at the midnight hour, not unless he’s a no-show. It’s your ass I’m worried about though.”

“Why?”

“Look, I’ve being honest with you all I can, and maybe it’s ‘cos I like your old ass, but I’m going to be real with your ass. This ain’t the type of world you’d want to be stepping into. This ain’t no home for retirement folks, and I can’t guarantee you ain’t going to catch some hurting in the long run.”

“That sounds comforting, coming from a young punk like yourself.”

“You got jokes. I might be a punk, but I know how to stay safe in these woods. Here’s my advice: go home. Take your daughter’s ashes and do whatever it is you want, but get yourself out this city before something bad comes to you. This is some serious game that ain’t gonna be no way great for your health.”

“So now you know what’s great for my health then?”

“Stop being prissy, old man. You know what the f**k I mean. You heard what Shontelle’s told you about Wilkes. Don’t go thinking she made that while stuff up just to scare you. The man is f*****g bad news.”

“Yes, yes, so you’ve told me a thousand times. That’s just about all everybody’s told me since yesterday. That still changes nothing for me. Now why don’t you be good and wait while I wash my face in the bathroom, or is it still too early?”

Reggie laughed and checked his watch. “It’ll take us an hour plus to get there by train. We’ll be in good time getting there. As long as he drops by where we’re going.”

“Let’s pray he does.”

“Another thing, old man. As long as we’re there, your ass is covering the drinks and transportation. And that’s non-negotiable.”

“I can live with that. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Reggie added. “Hurry up.”

Lemmon unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the bathroom door before washing his face in the sink. His eyes appeared dumpy when he gazed at his features in the cabinet’s mirror, like he’d being drinking or something. In the space of a week, he’d become someone he barely recognized anymore. He brushed his teeth and applied some cologne to his chin before stepping out of the bathroom.

They walked out of the hotel a half hour later and went in the direction of the subway. Lemmon wanted them take a cab, but Reggie complained about the cost, explaining that this way they would burn suitable time before their quarry arrived at the club.

“Besides,” he continued. “You’re going to need all the dough you can spare before the night’s over.”

They boarded the train toward Wakefield up to Bronx Park East. They got off the platform and exchanged busses twice before stepping down half a block from Morris Park. Reggie told Lemmon from here on in to hold tight to his wallet.

“We’re stepping into hostile territory, old man,” he mentioned as they rode another bus that brought them closer to their destination. “Won’t want you running broke before the night’s over.”

The bus was filled with typical moonlighters and nighttime workers, all looking somber and depleted from whatever hardship life had waiting for them. Lemmon sized them up before turning his view to stare at the night outside the bus. He reflected on the dream episode he’d had before waking up to Reggie’s knocking. Surprisingly he couldn’t recall much of it, except the part about the demon coming after him. Who knows what that meant, if really it was supposed to mean anything at all.

Reggie tapped his arm when the bus got to their stop and Lemmon followed him step down from it and started walking. Where they were could have being anywhere else in any city: dry-cleaning shops, 7-Elevens, and municipal buildings. Lemmon took note of the people they passed along the street. He balls his hands into fists in his coat pockets. Anything to keep him from being nervous.

They cut through a boulevard and turned a corner before Reggie pointed out the nightclub they were heading. There was a long queue of youngsters that spanned the length of the building waiting to get inside; cars lined the street stretching past a few blocks. The sidewalk was abuzz with noise and people. Reggie tugged at Lemmon’s arm to follow him. They walked past the club’s neon lights and turned left into an alley. The alley was so dark, Lemmon could barely make out his feet and had to squint his eyes to see Reggie ahead of him. He asked where they were heading but Reggie shushed him. They made another turn and came upon two giant-looking men standing guard at the club’s back door. Reggie walked up to them and started a chatter. Lemmon stood farther back, watched him laugh and shake hands with both men before Reggie motioned him to come over. Lemmon did so and Reggie introduced him to both men. One of them opened the back door and allowed them into the building.

The wild thumping hip-hop music was deafening as they made their way through a dark passage and entered the club. Lemmon felt as though his eardrums were about to burst any second. The bursting crowd pushed back and forth against them. Lemmon held onto his hat like a man racing through a storm at the same time pressed a hand on his pocket to ward off any pickpocket amongst the crowd. Reggie led the way, cutting a swath through the dancing crowd, stopping to look back to make sure Lemmon was still keeping with him. Dazzling discotheque lights roamed everywhere in kaleidoscopic dazzle. Lemmon stared at the nubile youngsters bumping against him, all thumping their hips and swinging their limbs and head to the atrociously loud music. It was like strolling through the underbelly of what hell could possibly look like. They got to the end of the room and he followed Reggie up a flight of stairs to a semi-circular balcony. They had arrived in good time and got themselves an empty booth. Reggie gestured at scanty-clad waitress who took their order.

Their drinks arrived and Reggie nodded his head to the music while Lemmon sat in uneasiness observing everything around him. He admired the lovely women that strolled past their table. His wallet was still safe inside his pocket, thank God for that. He looked at Reggie who didn’t seem to care what he was feeling. Lemmon leaned closer to get his attention.

“What now?” he raised his voice so he would be heard.

Reggie gestured at him to calm down and relax. Lemmon was far from being relaxed; he didn’t want to be in this place anymore, and couldn’t wait to leave. Their drinks arrived. Lemmon sipped his beer and observed the frolicking crowd down on the dance floor. Reggie downed his glass and didn’t waste time ordering another, snapping his fingers to the music. Lemmon could do nothing except drown in the long wait.

He didn’t realize his eyes were shut and he was practically dozing when Reggie slapped his arm. His eyes shot awake and he jerked forward. His knee bumped the table, nearly spilling his drink. Reggie nudged Lemmon to look behind him.

Lemmon half turned in his seat and saw the small crowd of coming up the stairs. He paid attention to the heavyset man in the midst, surrounded by a coterie of women. He was as extravagant as anyone in the club, wearing a white suit and fedora-type hat. Lemmon turned to Reggie.

“You wanted Wilkes, old man. Here comes your man.”

Lemmon turned once again to look at the dandy fellow and his crowd. His eyes stayed with them went to the far side of the balcony, and he noticed they weren’t alone. Lemmon took in the three hoodlum-type characters following behind, all three wearing leather jackets; neither cared to appear inconspicuous to the crowd. Their eyes scanned the area like robots and they formed a near barrier behind Wilkes and his ladies as they settled into a booth. His men occupied the booth opposite them.

Reggie tapped Lemmon’s arm and leaned closer to him.

“You wanted to see Wilkes, now you have. What you gonna do next, old man?”

Lemmon turned once again to observe his quarry before answering him. “Wait here.”

Lemmon drank his beer for good luck then got up from their table. Reggie watched with a baffled expression which immediately to a look of horror as he realized what Lemmon was up to. He half rose from his seat and yelled at him to come back, but Lemmon paid him no mind. He pushed through several people on his path as he approached Wilkes’s table. Reggie sat down worried and watched him walk toward the lion’s den. He gulped his drink and was fidgeting, contemplating what to do next.

Lemmon was on auto-pilot as he drew closer to his quarry. The man had his arms slung over his women’s shoulders, one of whom was filling a glass in front of him, and looked up as Lemmon came to his table. His men were up in an instant, blocking his path.

“Hold on there, pops,” one of the hoods pressed his hand flat on Lemmon’s chest. His other hand opened his jacket for Lemmon to see his sidearm. “You looking like you lost?”

Lemmon was unfazed by the man’s stance. “I’d like to have a word with your boss,” he leaned closer to the man and spoke loud enough for him.

The hood’s stood hovered beside them. He pushed down his shades and stuck his face at Lemmon.

“Better turn around and get lost, old man. Ain’t nothing here for you.”

“I don’t want any trouble, sonny,” Lemmon stood his ground. “Once again, I’m here to see your boss, Wilkes.”

Both men glared at him. The stalemate broke when Wilkes stood up and tapped his men’s shoulders to quiet down. He had a beaming smile like that of a sleazy politician. He was sucking on the fat end of a cigar and puffed cloud of smoke in the air.

“What’s up, old man? You here for charity? I can spare a couple green if you’re hungry.”

“I’m not here for money.”

“What you want then? Retirement home let you out early?”

Wilkes turned to his men who joined him crackling at his humor.

“I have personal business I’d like to talk with you about,” said Lemmon.

Wilkes waved his cigar before his face. “This ain’t my place for business, old man. You drop by my office if that’s what you want. I ain’t got no quarrel treating an old folk like yourself to some good life.” He pulled out a business card from his pocket and slid it into Lemmon’s coat pocket, grinning. Lemmon felt nauseated just from being this close to him. He leaned closer so Wilkes would hear his next words.

“My name is Lemmon Grandee. I’d like to talk to you about my daughter whom you murdered.”

Lemmon retreated and he gloated to himself as he saw the desired effect his words had on Wilkes—he wasn’t grinning anymore. Wilkes took down his cigar and sized Lemmon closely

“Do I know you, old man?” Wilkes asked.

Lemmon shook his head; he had his attention now. “You knew my daughter. I’d like to talk with you about her, but I see you’re busy right now. I’ll leave you alone.”

Lemmon turned to leave but Wilkes grasped his arm, holding him back. His men came to attention, but he waved them backward.

“You some cop?” he snarled the question at him.

“I’m not. But you will hear from me.”

Lemmon retrieved his arm and walked away without a glimpse of fear on his mind. It never occurred to him how much danger his life just became, nor did he imagine as he walked away, that Wilkes might dispatch one of his hoods to come after him. Nothing of such occurred to Lemmon except the satisfied feeling that he’d upset the balance of nature now he’d caught the bastard’s attention. Now Wilkes won’t pretend that he didn’t exist. Lemmon saw it as a great start toward something.

He returned to his booth but Reggie wasn’t there waiting for him. Lemmon looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere. He paid for the drinks, picked up his hat and took his leave.

Lemmon pushed his way past the crowd waiting to get inside the club and stood by the sidewalk content that he’d made it out. He sighed when he checked his coat and realized someone had unknowingly spilled drink on him; he smelled cigarettes on his clothes. Lemmon canvassed the area, looking for Reggie. He walked the entire block, checking out the faces of the crowd and just about everyone else milling in groups along the sidewalks but didn’t spot Reggie. He traced his path to the alleyway and met no one there. Feeling tired, he walked away from the scene, away from the club’s bright lights and loud music. He didn’t know which direction he was heading and seriously didn’t care.

The night felt good for a walk. There were few cars on the street and one too many vagrants hanging about the street corners. Some of the shops he passed were starting to close for the day. He found a 7-Eleven shop and went in and bought himself a soda. A vagrant approached him when he stepped out and asked if he had any spare change. Lemmon emptied his hands of the quarters and dimes he had in his pocket. The vagrant thanked him as he walked away.

Lemmon kept walking into the night. He drained his soda, crushed the can, then discarded it into a trash bin. He pulled up his coat’s collar against the strong wind blowing against him. He felt like he could walk all night and continue well into the morning.

He came upon a bridge, his face hunkered downward as a gust of wind slapped against him. The wind didn’t temper down, like it was conspiring to throw him off the bridge’s walkway into the headlights of passing vehicles. Lemmon stopped to gaze at the expanse of the river beneath him. He imagined bringing his daughter’s urn here to this exact bridge and emptying her ashes into the dark belly of the river. He soothingly reflected that the river would carry her beyond this world to where her mom was waiting for her. When his own time comes, no matter what, he too will be joining them. He gazed up at the galaxy of stars in the night’s sky, and his eyes picked out a loner shimmering like a diamond. Lemmon imagined that was Abby winking and smiling down at him.

Lemmon resumed his walk. He walked for another mile before deciding he’d had enough. He waited at an intersection for a taxi to drive past him. Finding one, he gave the cabbie his hotel address and dozed in the backseat, not minding the expense.

* * *

He slept for a long time and would have kept on with it if someone hadn’t interrupted by knocking on his door. It sounded like a hammer pounding in his head. Lemmon pushed himself up from the bed, wondering if Reggie was serious about dispatching him with a serious heart attack. He’d fallen asleep in his pants—his clothes were strewn over the table and chair. Lemmon replied that he was coming as the knocking didn’t seem to let up. The young punk just couldn’t wait to apologize skipping on him last night.

Lemmon had words to say to him but they died in his mouth as he opened the door and stared at the mouth of a gun aimed at his head. The hoodlum holding the gun brought a finger to his lips, indicating he remain quiet. Lemmon was too stunned, too caught in his fear to utter a word. He stepped backward for the man along with his buddy to enter. He recognized them as Wilkes’s men: they both wore the same leather outfit as last night. The second man wore a doo-rag around his braided hair.

“Get yourself some clothes, old man,” said the hoodlum with the gun. “Mr. Wilkes wants to meet with you.”

Doo-rag rummaged through the pockets of Lemmon’s shirt and jacket. Finding nothing of interest, he threw them on the bed.

“Okay. Can I brush my teeth first?” asked Lemmon.

Doo-rag and his companion watched him as he washed his face then brushed his teeth—he would forgo a shower for when he returned, if ever he did. He wore his clothes of last night but didn’t take his hat. Doo-rag opened the door for him and they filed out with his partner locking the door and solicitously giving Lemmon his room key.

A car was parked in the sidewalk waiting for them.

Neither of them noticed the drab-looking van parked across the street with an ice-cream logo painted across its bodywork. The van looked ordinary, except it wasn’t. The windows were shielded with thick curtains, but that didn’t prevent the cops seated inside from taking photos with a high-powered camera at the sight of Lemmon ushered into the parked Cadillac in front of the hotel, followed by the two hoodlums. Detective Quinez sat beside the man taking the snapshots while she watched the Cadillac drive off. The interior of the van was stuffy, both of them upset with the heat emanating from the electronic equipments inside the van with them.

“Think you got a good shot of their faces?” she asked her colleague.

“Oh yeah, I did. Would have been good if we had a bug in the man’s room to listen in.”

“Don’t look like they had anything worth saying inside. There’s still plenty of time for that. Let’s just hope he doesn’t end up in a river somewhere, courtesy of you-know-who.”

“Maybe Wilkes won’t do him any harm,” he suggested.

“Yeah right. Tell that to the other poor suckers he’s gone after,” she said. “We’d best get a moving now we’re done here. Call the fellas down on L Street to let them know Wilkes’ boys are coming.”