Bag of Money

Bag of Money
Belair was a stupid son of a bitch. But, Swell could see it in his eyes when she mentioned Evan. Belair knew nothing. He may have tried to stand stoic and give no sign of surprise, but it was there. It sat there like a conspicuous gator staring right back at you. Belair knew two things in that moment. The first was that he knew nothing about Swell’s baby Evan. The second thing he knew is that if Swell didn’t believe him, he was in a world of danger.
Swell had internalized her concern for most of the trip back to the house. The ride was quiet and that gave her plenty of time to think. It would’ve been so easy if Belair knew something about her son. And when she shot him, part of her did so in resentment. Resentment for him not knowing. But she didn’t want him to know that. She didn’t want anyone to know that. Shooting a man in his foot for not knowing something he couldn’t know… that was fucking nuts. Swell was many things, she wasn’t fucking nuts.
Swell pulled the truck onto the long drive. Despite a quarter of a million dollars stuffed in the duffel bag between Junior and his friend Cutter, their place wasn’t much to look at. Swell wanted it that way. It’d keep the Feds out. The harder a place looked the less interlopers would be interested in exploring. No, she kept her money hidden in a series of safe places throughout Arcadia. She kept her home scattered and destitute on the outside and clean on the inside. Sure, she had what she needed. She just never stepped too far beyond. She didn’t fuck up like the others had over the years. That kept her safe. Her sons though. Stupid littles shits. Junior followed stupidity like the latest fad. Evan, his stupidity was led by his pants. And that Lenora bitch was always stirring something up. That little witch, as everyone knew she was, had a hot temper, and a desire to cause trouble. She wasn’t afraid of a damn thing. In truth, SueEllen was rather fond of the little tart. She wasn’t much different than herself. That’s why she let things pass. But now with Evan gone there were questions that needed answering. And that little bitch was where those questions would start.
Stew parked the truck and stepped out. Without a word, Cutter tossed the duffel of money onto the ground at her feet. Stew was the one who did all the counting. She didn’t trust anyone, let alone Cutter and Junior to count the money and not pocket something. The night sky was clear now. There wasn’t any of the mist that had gathered near the drop zone they’d just left. The insects buzzed nearby. The frogs played their midnight songs. Owls watched patiently choosing their prey. The water was gentle in the distance as it always was. But if you knew what to listen for you could hear the gentle lapping of disturbance. Perhaps a water moccasin snatched a frog. Maybe a turtle fell from a log. Or a gator snatched a one-year deer from the banks. Behind her were the addition of footsteps to the usual clatter. “Where the fuck ya’ll think yah going?” she said without looking back.
Cutter spit out the mint tobacco tucked deep into his mouth. He nudged Junior and shrugged. “It’s yo mama.”
“Inside. Where else would we be going?” Junior shrugged his shoulders back at Cutter. It was obvious that neither of them knew what Swell as alluding to. They continued to follow.
“Nope. Wrong fucking answer. Try again.” She snapped back. The duffel bag was stiff at her side as she walked. She didn’t break pace.
“I was going to my room, then on to the bar for a drink… Is there something else…”
“Why? What you want us to do?” Cutter broke in.
“Oh, I gots to explain it to you? What you two dimwits ‘gon do is go see them two whores ‘cross the river and find out where my baby is.”
“Lenora and Bridgette?” Cutter stopped walking. “I’m game.” he broke his lips into a playful smile as if everyone understood the ill-timed joke.
Junior kicked some dirt. “I should be your baby,” he mumbled.
Swell stopped and turned around. She stepped closer to Junior. “Boy get over it. You the one whose head was ten times his body coming out of me. Boy you split me down to my asshole.”
Cutter stifled a chuckle, while Junior stuffed his hands in his back pocket.
“He’s my baby. You go find him. Maybe then I’ll forget about your fat head.” Junior took a step back, as Swell slid a hand under her oldest son’s chin. “Take yo’ narrow ass out to them whores and find...my...baby.” She looked at Cutter. “And you watch his back. He seems to get pussy blinded when he around that younger one.” Swell let go of her son’s chin, her eyes never leaving Cutter. She turned and began walking back toward the house. “But you ain’t no better either you dirty mother fucker.” Swell stopped walking. She turned back to Junior. “I love you, with all my heart. So you remember that when you think I really got a favorite.” She kissed his cheek. “Now get yo’ ass out there.”
“Can we eat first? I’m starving Mama.” Junior whined.
“Eat there. Them girls is trouble and they is whores. But they also cook up some damn good food. Fill your belly. Ask questions. Keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t fucking go and ask them directly if they’d done anything. That’ll fuck it all up. Be casual. Maybe mention that Evan hadn’t been back and you’re worried. See how they react. You know. Stuff like that. Be casual. Those girls are smarter than any of my boys. So, don’t say too much.”
Swell left them standing on the path to the house without saying another word. The duffel bag was heavy, but she held it as if it were a single bill in her hand. She unlocked the door. Went into the house. Then Junior and Cutter could hear the long stretch of locks along the door being locked one by one.
“I guess we gotta find a place to sleep tonight.” Cutter said after the last of the deadbolts was set in place. “Well come on you big Baby.” Cutter replied. “Let’s go find your bro.”
“Just for the record, I don’t get pussy blinded.”
“Right.”
Swell watched the pair through the blinds in the window. She said a short prayer for them as they drove into the night. “Bring my baby back,” she whispered as the tail lights faded into the darkness. But her instincts told it was already too late. The ethereal image of her son in the window earlier in the day was more than a smoke and mirror message. Something like that doesn’t come from the living. She just needed to know. To know for sure.
Swell tossed the duffel bag onto the bed. She knew that $250,000 in twenty-dollar bills was about four and a half inches high. Looking at the size of the bag, smaller than a normal duffel, she judged that if they are all twenty-dollar bills, and that’s all that was in the bag, then Arjun hadn’t screwed them. She didn’t figure he would. Swell had a no bullshit reputation. Until today no one, even Belair, had crossed her. Belair would be pissed. But, he lost a good chunk of his crew today and was left with a couple holes in his feet. He’d retaliate somehow. But he’d do it with care and from a distance. The little shootout wouldn’t make the news. Arcadian law enforcement would strip the dead of their weapons and any valuables and then toss the bodies in the swamp. Let the mother nature take care of things. She wasn’t worried about any of that. But them Theroit girls. They play by the same rules as Swell. That’s what makes them dangerous. Swell and them kept a curtesy distance from each other. That is till now.
Swell unzipped the duffel bag. She then pulled a large painting from the wall next to her bed. With a few taps she unlocked the hidden safe. One wrapped pack at a time Swell unloaded the duffel bag. Each pack was wrapped in a paper wrap, then plastic was wrapped around those. OIt was meant to ensure that no one outside of the person who wrapped each of the packs could easily skim and slip one or two bills out. She was surprised that a novice like Arjun had thought as much. She’d expected the bag to just be shoved with cash. She’d expected to spend the entire night counting one bill after another. In the end she’d counted 250 packs of twenty-dollar bills. Each pack would have fifty bills in it. $250,000 even as long as Arjun hadn’t skimmed from the packs when they were being filled.
When Swell was done counting and the money was put safely back she took her Glock and checked the clip. She picked up her phone and clicked a speed dial number she’d never called before.
When Jackson answered it was with a question, “Who’s this?”
“It’s Swell. We got something to talk about.”
Then she hung up.