I really should’ve known better. I been a grown man a long time now. Well, maybe being thirty-three’s not that long a time grown up, but it’s enough to know the lay of the land. Hell, even as a boy of ten, I would know to steer clear of Joe-Dogs and anything he holds dear. I could ask my nephews, the ones still in primary school. Even they would know better, but I didn’t. And what to show for it now? I got what I deserved. Joe-Dogs would say I should die for it, but I’ll beg to differ on that. Besides, right about now, he’s got bigger fish to fry than me. But still, bottom-line: Katrina’s gone, and Melinda was gone before that, and I got chased out of my own town, too. You get good enough at what you do, word gets around. Good thing is, you take care of the right people, and you keep it so only the right people find out what you’re so good at. Or if you’re really the man that plays his cards right, then both the police and the criminal know where to come when they need your help. Lucky me, thank my dad, whatever, but I’m good at not just one thing. You need a lock picked? You call me. You need to find somebody? Come visit, tell me who they are, I find them. You need to take back what’s yours, you say? I got the connections. I can make that happen, so long as there’s enough in it for me to make it worth the while. And the people that need these things, and they’re all walks of life, they know where to find me. Judges looking for their own justice, businessman robbed, but got a solid look at the perpetrator,especially if there’s a witness. The stupid crooks don’t stay crooks, or at least, they don’t keep what they steal too long, not with me involved. Relatives of the local gangster chief, you ask? Ah, you already know the story, you’re just anxious that I tell it. Well, okay. You know Katrina, right? Hell, everyone knows hot-ass Katrina, even though she been gone almost a year now, we all talk about her like she’s still here. I was in my office. It was mid-day, just after a storm blows through and the sun is shining again. More heat, more sweat, and I was just thinking about maybe closing up and retreating for a long weekend, just for the hell of it. What good’s the blessing if you don’t take time to enjoy it, right? And Melinda, selling the real-estate full time now, she had more spare time than she’d admit to, but I know she’d take off work with me if I said the word. So I was about to do just that, when Everton comes in. He’s got my mail from downstairs, but he’s doling it out an envelope at a time and just staring at me, like I know he’s not there for just that. “What is it, Everton?” I said, just to get him to come out with it. By then I’m hungry, too. The Juici Patties from down the street been wafting in the window all damn day. “You know Katrina, boss?” he asks, with this look like I’m supposed to know, but I don’t, I just look at him. Surely it’s not just a name quiz, I’m thinking. “You know the gyal,” he says. “Joe-Dogs’ pickney. She be eighteen, nineteen now.” Oh lord, I think to myself. Katrina. Well I hadn’t seen the girl in years, not since I was at Doctor’s Cave beach some two, three years before and there she is, teen girl with Dog, her daddy, the baddest man this half the island. Nobody dare talked to her then, we just look from far away. Heard Ankara bayan escort about her since, yes, maybe caught a glimpse in a restaurant, maybe not. I knew she lived the street royalty life a little bit, but I don’t make the club and party scene too much these days. I knew she was a wild child. After that, didn’t matter, because I knew she was Joe-Dogs’ child. You don’t mess with a gangster’s girl, be it the child or the lover. These things are just common sense, you know. “She put the word out, boss. Wants to talk to you,” Everton says. Now he’s gauging me, because I can tell this girl, or whoever does the talking for this girl, Katrina, put the screws to Everton to talk me into something. “What in the hell does a girl with a gangster daddy want with a white man in the shadows?” I ask him, honestly. Everton smiles. The smile that says: “I can stop beating around the bush now”. “What does she want? Access to the money he won’t give her,” he says, and he leans back, satisfied that he’s done his part now. “She knows you can do it. You might be the only man in Jamaica that can do it without it getting back to Joe-Dogs.” And I’m supposed to scale this gangster’s wall, risk my life and limb, and just take a few gold bricks for the party-girl daughter, yeah? Call me skeptical, but Everton keeps on. “It’s a real fuckery, boss, ‘tis true. She tell the whole story to me down at Marguerite’s, not even one hour ago, and I promise her I tell you first thing. The gyal turn eighteen, he promise her the riches to live on, but going on a year now, the man lie.” “So it’s like a street gang trust fund deal then,” I say. “That’s a shame. Bet she wish she never wrecked that Aston Martin they find crunched in the gulley last year, I bet Joe-Dogs still mad about that. You know the time,” I remind Everton. “They even called me to get the prints, marching through mud and mosquitos. Katrina did it, the police say, but they couldn’t get a match off the birth prints. Surely, Katrina, though, even though she say the car got stolen.” And now Everton’s uneasy again and so I have to placate him and ask him just what the hell I’m supposed to do to get him off the hook. “Just meet with the gyal,” he says. “She know where to find you. And don’t worry, boss man, she won’t bite, even though she look like she do,” he says, laughing at me. Well, I didn’t think much of it, for one, two days. Then, on the third day, who walks into the office, come ten, eleven in the morning? Katrina herself. And I’ll be damned if she don’t look like she bites indeed! Not that she looks nasty, or ugly; no, quite the opposite. It’s more of a vibe, like she don’t take the guff from nobody for no reason. She stands maybe five feet, maybe five-one, hundred pounds give or take. A doll’s face if there ever was one, with hair that’s had the high-dollar white woman’s treatment, with the red-dye highlights. And you would think it would look a mess on a girl with that deep, deep dark skin, like the African royalty of old. But no, it all comes together and takes the breath away. Beautiful in a hard but delicate way, like she could scrap at the drop of a hat, then kick you a few extra times for making her break a nail. But those full, grown-woman breasts, long lashes, and pouty lips Escort bayan Ankara go a long ways to soften it all up. And so she explains her predicament to me, but without really explaining it, you know? She talks in riddles, waiting for me to say too much, I think. Like I have to be cool enough to go along on whatever crazy scheme she’s gonna try to talk me into. And I guess I say all the right things because the next thing is her writing down her number for me. And the girl is glammed up solid! Gold bracelet, gold rings, just a heap of gold hanging off this tiny woman. Even her fingernails are bejeweled. You can tell she’s laying down the big American bills for the Chinese lady at the Ritz-Carlton to work her very best magic on her little hands and feet. “So, you figure out where we eat tonight, yeah? Then you call me, I’ll be there. Need the big-time plan and you’re the man to plan it, understand?” The girl talks blunt and straight, not too educated, and she might not bite but she can damn well bark. And I want to be polite and say that yes, I do understand, but when she turns around to leave, I was made to understand something completely different. Believe me when I tell you that what I thought was beauty on its way in the door was just child’s play compared to what looked back at me on its way out. Got-damn! You want to talk about a booty? Now Katrina’s booty- or specifically the image of it looking back at me when she walked out- is etched in this man’s brain for life. I see it every night when I go to bed, and I wake up still seeing it. And you know what I’m talking about: it ain’t the fat booty, which there ain’t a thing wrong with, but it’s like the Lord took a regular girl and put a fat girl’s ass on her. No, this backside has the perfect twin-bubble handfuls, you know the kind. Like the finest artwork, pictures never do it justice. It defies gravity. It’s soft but you know you could bounce a handful of coins off it and you’d be picking them up across the room. And framed by those strong, fit thighs and a slim back? Understand, right now, she walks out of there and I’m thinking, “no way I’m meeting the gangster’s girl for dinner, too insane,” at the same time, I’ve got a wood ready to bust out the zipper on my pants. Well, you can guess what happened next, but the first thing I did was call Melinda, to let her know something came up for work and I’d be out for the night. At that point, I didn’t even know that I was going to take Katrina’s bait for sure, but the offer was heavy, man. Maybe you say, “but never mind that she’s Joe-Dog’s own flesh and blood, the girl’s still teen!” Well, be that as it may, if you saw this Katrina, you would see I had no choice. I needed to clear my schedule in order to clear my head and make a plan. Foremost in my mind, in a place I could not shake loose, was the vivid image of Katrina dropping that round ass on me, watching it eat up my wood and rest down on my loins. Mind you at that time, I hadn’t seen the girl’s naked skin like that, but in my mind it was still clear as day. So where would I take this gangster’s girl? She says she wants to meet over a meal, it’s the least I can do, I figure. And a girl that look like that, no matter if she eighteen or forty-eight, you want to really Bayan escort Ankara do it right. But the top notch joints in town, like the Boathouse: too high profile, with the who’s-who there every night. They notice everything. Or Marguerite’s, but hell, Joe-Dogs practically runs the place. Katrina herself is there all the time. Got to stay lower profile. Ah, but then I remember, Mr. Adam’s place, a good drive past town but close enough. He’s got the cozy little joint on the beach, just past the long row of all-inclusives that hug the main highway. He’s got the big straw roof, where everybody sit outside and they serve fresh fish, jerk pork, and Red Stripe. He also has the motel, mostly fishermen and the island weekend folk that stay there. The whole thing: casual, man. Out of the way, too. So we meet up then part ways, nobody knows. Perfect! But just one hitch, when I finally get the gumption to call the girl up, just like she asked: “I needs a ride, man,” she says, then gives me an address up near the top road- not where Joe-Dogs is known to stay, mind you- to come and find her. Staying with friends, she says. In the in-between time, I’m only left to remind myself how stupid this idea is, and when I show up at the little hillside house to pick up Katrina, I’m feeling doubly-stupid, man. This girl, she’s nothing but trouble. I knew that already, but I’ll tell you what she wore, and you can believe it or not: a midriff shirt that’s hanging off the front of her tits up top, bright red peep-toe heels down below, and in between, the tightest jeans you ever saw. Well, tight everywhere except the very top, where the top hem was completely cut off, and here I am looking at the top humps of her ass just hanging out, showing me the crack. Sounds like true skank, right? Well believe me when I tell you, all it looks on this girl is like pure sex. And you think I have a shot to be businesslike? Tall order, for real. Also, she got these bright tattoos running all the way down her back and on her ass too. On black-as-black skin, I got no idea how they look so bright, but they do. And I can’t stop staring at all of this, but the look she give me when I finally see the girl in the eyes, says to me: stare all you want, white man, here it is. I think I’m less nervous if she just calls me a pig and snaps me out of it, but she loves the attention. At Mr. Adam’s place, I order my usual: the ackee fruit and saltfish, and Katrina orders nothing. She says she’ll eat some of mine and orders rum on the rocks: serious drink for a fine tiny girl, gangster daddy or not. And she drinks half of it before saying a word, just making me sit there, look at the ocean to keep from staring at her, and the whole time she stares right at me. “So you take time from your busy night to talk to a man you don’t even know,” I say, just to break the ice with this girl. “Nah, man. I know you well,” she says. “Everybody know what you do. Besides, I met you at your office today, was pleasant, no?” She’s smiling at me, just toying. “So now I know you both ways.” “Both ways,” I say. “Aren’t you missing another way that a man and a woman can know each other?” Why I would say such a thing, no idea, but Katrina don’t miss a beat. “You are right about that, man. One way to know me still hanging out there,” she says. “But you can dream!” She shouts that last part with a flourish and a wide smile, and now I got strangers turning to look at me with this young flashy girl. Nobody I know, thank the Lord. I just smile and let it go. I mean, she’s fourteen, fifteen years my junior. I got no business with the monkey business anyway.