Benjamin looks to his kin dressed in a different skin, not understanding how the short handsome man could land such a beauty. Let alone convince the “Ice Queen” to have his baby boy. The pride of Benjamin's life.
“What ya do ta’ hur’ ?,” Benjamin grins, feeling the effect of the alcohol.
“Wha’ ya’ say naw ...?,” Slick laughs.
“Ta’ land Kelly negro. What ya’ do ?”
“I aint’cha looks fo’sho’
Slick leans back as his wet suit dries slowly. Warming to his damp skin.
Smiling, the sexy scoundrel runs his fingers through his blonde shoulder length hair. “Shiiiiiii-t ......,” he playfully hisses.
“I jus’ let hu’r take control. Simple as that.”
Benjamin instantly laughs, pouring another shot. “So ya’ let ‘Ole Ice Queen make yo’ hur’ bitch?”
Slick laughs, buzzed, enjoying the conversation.
“Yep, and I’s enjoy every moment of it. Tha’ woman can ride a dick like a cok’d up jockey. And it aint nobody’s business. Ya’ hur me -- ya’?”
Benjamin nods, understanding the hint.
The woman that is the center of conversation, though cold to men whom seek her as a lover, has a heart just as warm and kind. A truly loving soul.
Last year, two young teenage black boys got themselves in a world of southern justice trouble. Both were in a corner grocers in Beaufort, doing what teenage boys do. One was said to have made a comment to a white girl of the same age.
Two days later, both teenagers were in jail, beaten to a pulp. Their necks about to be strung up the nearest tree.
It was Kelly whom convinced the sheriff to have second thoughts, finally letting the young men go.
Some say Kelly did sexual favors for two of the sheriffs. Others say that Slick is cuckolded and the law man is Kelly’s lover. All gossip created by envious women and men.
Both men at the table know exactly why the sheriff let the kids go so suddenly.
Money, and lots of it.
“I should’a shot tha’ fat racist fuck,” Slick sneers.
“Naw-tak’in him up to Vincent's was gu’d enough. Hog tied and shit,” Benjamin laughs, his snicker quickly dying down to a mumble.
Both men know what happen to the murderous sheriff.
“Is it true.....?” Slick grins.
“Wha’.....?,” Benjamin asks, relaxing more.
The creole tries his best to not even consider what happen to the ruddy ignorant officer, shifting in his seat.
“Ya’ might be a pretty boy Benjamin. But ya’ aint no damn dummy,” Slick laughs, pouring another shot.
Thinking through a grimace, Benjamin's light hazel eyes leave those of blue. Both men look off, considering all that may have happened. The cruelty of it all.
“Yeah .....four of em’... they all took turns,” he finally says, barely. As if the act itself offends even his retched soul.
“Bet he won’t be fuck’in with no mo’ color’ds any mo’ tho’,” Slick laughs.
“Naw.......cause they fuck’d him....,” Benjamin laughs, finally letting it out.
The punishment fit the crime.
“They said it was white men tho’,” Slick says as Benjamin shifts in his seat. Uncomfortable with the conversation.
“A mix ....po’ white trash and negros. Two of em’ tha’ sheriff sent to hard labor fo’ no reason,” Benjamin says.
“Good.” Is all that Slick says.
Looking away from his partner in crime, the thug wonders about something else.
The plan.
“Look-a-hur negro....” Slick starts as Benjamin laughs.
“Yes honky.... ?” the sarcastic killer smiles.
“How we gon’ do this?,” Slick grins.
“Ya’ mean who gon’ be first?” Benjamin asks.
“Shiiiiit-tha’s easy as possums fuck’in. Tha’ damn snotty nose fuck.”
“Mick McClaren, tha’ fuck almost got my Kelly hurt,” Slick admits as Benjamin's eyebrow raise.
“Say wha’ naw’?”
“Wha’ tha’ fuck you mean ‘Kelly hurt’?,” the creole assassin sneers. Benjamin already knows half the story, but not the truth. Arms crossed, his back tense, the creole looks squarely in his half brother's face. “Spill it white nigga.”
The hustler pours another shot. Sliding it over to his partner in many crimes.
“Calm tha’ fuck down killa’ “ Slick smiles with a twinkle in his eyes.
“It’s been taken care of. Trust me.”
“What he do ?” Benjamin asks.
Downing the shot quickly, fire in the killer’s eyes, now in his belly as well.
Slick sits back, thinking about what he was told with a sigh. “He tried ta’ set Kelly up wit’ a moonshine charge. Tha’ federal time playa’ .”
“She don’t even drink tha’ shit tho’!,” Benjamin yells, lowing his voice.
“Yo’ know tha’-I kno’s tha’.”
“And tha’ church past’a knew tha’ as well. He spoke up fo’ hu’r. Got tha’
charges dropp’d,” Slick smiles.
Benjamin breathes a sigh of relief. A natural reaction for a woman loved by many, except for the man whom she takes on as lovers.
“So how ya’ do that, make tha’ fine ass woman fall fo’ yu’r ugly ass?,” the creole laughs. Back to the prior subject, the hustler watches as fire returns to Slick’s light eyes.
“Ya’ aint gon’ let tha’ go is ya’ negro?” Slick
