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Jude nodded, then turned and walked away. He could hear the sounds of his brother being shackled once again, like some damn creature. A monster in need of a good taming.
Cain wasn’t in there for ripping off a girl scout and riding off with her cookies. He’d taken out two people with a machine gun one early Sunday morning—high as a kite, a small dispute that had erupted in much more. He’d been enraged, a ticking time bomb years in the making. A slow buildup of frustration and pain. Now, here he was, rotting away, and Jude hated him for it. He needed his brother, yet nothing could be done. Fate had spoken. They’d called every decent lawyer in town, offered large sums of money, but it didn’t matter. They’d exhausted the court system.
No more appeals. No one wanted to hear anything from Cain, a prior drug addict and dealer, the eldest problem child of the notorious bank robbers, Angel and Johnny Cooper. Cain had stood there in broad daylight, under the sizzling kiss of the Tennessee sun, and wiped out two young men primed for college. One of them had a police officer father. The boy? A high school football star. They’d robbed him; quite a large number of pills, and had paid with their lives.
But that hadn’t been the true reason Cain had lost his cool. It had only been the final straw. Cain wasn’t sorry for killing them; he was sorry for leaving his son fatherless. Just like Mama and Daddy had done to them.
Jude made his way out of the prison and placed his black sunglasses on, then got into his truck. He turned on the radio as he made his way out of the remote area and the sounds of ‘Motley Crew’ by Post Malone blasted through the speakers…
CHAPTER TWO
Pawns in the Game
Monroe, a regularat the twenty-four-hour Kroger that sat nestled between a hoagie sandwich shop and a nail salon, shuffled along the frozen food aisle at around two in the morning. His voice out of tune, he sang along with Loose Ends’ ‘Hanging on a String’, which played through the speakers.
Iris would know that voice from anywhere. The man always came in to get a pint of chocolate or rocky road ice cream, a pack of cigarettes, and a couple cases of beer. He was loaded—not money wise, but he was an alcoholic to the core. Drunk out of his mind, he provided a source of passive entertainment for her and the few other employees who worked third shift. She stood at her cash register checking out her cuticles.Dry. They need oil. I need to get my nails re-done, period.Long purple talons covered in rhinestones, dipped in silver at the tips were done to perfection, but her two weeks for a fill-in had come and gone. While she debated what color to get next, her cellphone buzzed in her jeans pocket. Slipping it out, she noticed it was her niece.
“Now you know you’re supposed to be in bed and asleep,” she reprimanded the fourteen-year-old, cradling the phone between her neck and shoulder as she applied hand sanitizer to her hands.
“I know, Auntie, but I got hungry, and wanted to know if there was any more shrimp fettuccine alfredo left,” Ayanna wailed, sounding as sad as could be.
Iris smirked and shook her head.
“There’s some left. Look way in the back of the refrigerator, behind the bag of lettuce. You’ll see a Tupperware bowl with a red lid. Speakin’ of stuff in the refrigerator, you didn’t put that peanut butter in there again, did you Ayanna? I told you it gets hard as a brick when you—”
“No, Auntie. It’s on the counter.”
“Okay, good. It’s late to be eating fettuccine but go ahead. You didn’t eat much at dinner. When you finish, I want you to go straight back to bed, all right?”
“Okay. I cleaned the bathroom, too.”
The Gap Band’s, ‘Humpin’’ now drifted through the speakers. Someone had turned it up a notch. Probably old ass Anthony, an older Black guy with a salt and pepper short, lopsided afro. He was supposed to be security, but spent most of his time laughing, flirting with customers, drinking juice without paying for it, and dancing like James Brown in the back room.
“Okay, good. Homework finished, baby?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“All right. I’ll be home ’round six.”
“’Kay. I love you. Good night.”
“Love you, too.”
Iris ended the call and turned to see Monroe shuffling back and forth, doing his little drunken dance. Monroe was middle-aged, but when he spoke, he sounded like he’d lived a couple centuries. The older White man approached her line, spinning to the sounds of ‘Every Little Step,’ by Bobby Brown. Iris burst out laughing and helped him place his pint of chocolate ice cream and six packs of beer on the conveyor belt. She grabbed the cigarettes he always purchased without even asking.
“Hey, Mr. Monroe. You doin’ good tonight?”
“You know I am, pretty lady. Wanna come dancing with me? The bar is still open.” The older timer winked and flashed his fingers adorned with gaudy, tarnished gold rings, some with dull diamonds that tried to sparkle to no avail.
“You know I have to work, Mr. Monroe. Besides, I wouldn’t want to steal you away from some nice lady waiting all her life for you!” She chortled as he did a spin and began to gyrate, performing some silly dance, but no doubt believing he was the king of the ball. He stopped fooling around just long enough to pull out his worn brown leather wallet and popped three crinkled twenty-dollar bills in her palm. “Keep the change, darlin’.”
“You know I can’t take no tips, Mr. Monroe.” She attempted to hand him back his five dollars and a few coins after she’d completed the transaction. He did this sort of thing on occasion, offering his bread to cashiers– typically just the women. He shook his head as if disappointed in her, then started to do some crazy janky ass moonwalk away from her, waving as he cradled his brown paper bag of treats against his chest. She burst out laughing and waved him goodbye, then jammed the paper bills in her bra and tossed the coins back in the register before squeezing more sanitizer on her hand.
Her co-worker Lark bumped into her, startling her. “Monroe got robbed a few days ago.”
“Girl, you scared me! Why you always creepin’ up on somebody?!”
The tall, skinny blond sported a twisted grin reminiscent of a bolt of lightning, under almond-shaped aquamarine eyes.
