the voice on the other end of the cell said anything.
“Comp … t?”
Was all that was said, so low, the single word almost wasn’t audible. But the voice on the other end of the phone was unmistakable.
“Calliope?” he questioned. “What’s up, sis?” She sounded like death.
ROOM 326
Calliope, in a state of delirium, managed to convey the name of the inn and the room number. “I need your help,” was the rest of the message, then nothing. A panicked Compton shut down shop immediately and though he had no real details he hipped his friend to the life-or-death business at hand.
Moo-Moo said, “You ain’t going to go anywhere without me.” He was clueless of exactly what they were running into, but knowing they needed to get there yesterday. Moo-Moo wasn’t anybody’s fool by a long shot and got his brother Jean on board.
The door to room 326 was slightly ajar when Jean, Moo-Moo, and Compton arrived. The hotel was damn near a ghost town, except for a doting couple in the pool below doing naughty things, not wanting to be seen themselves.
Inside the room was a far different atmosphere. Everything was quiet and the picture was still. Jean wasn’t deceived by the stillness, he was getting prepared for whatever was waiting for them there, and he had already slipped his gat from his waist and cocked it.
Compton called out his sister’s name, “Calliope!”
Just on the other side of the bedroom, with his top popped and stretched out, was a roller, in full uniform. He was beyond help. Then Compton laid eyes on his sister. She was just a few feet away from the police officer. Scared shitless, he ran over to her, not sure if she was dead or alive.
He gently cupped her head with his hand. “Wake up, Cal, please, I’m begging you,” he said with tears welling up, in his eyes.
She was bleeding from the head, bruised up, and half-naked, a sight that no brother should ever have to see.
While Compton held his sister’s battered body close to him, Jean methodically searched the rest of the suite. Whoever was there was gone now and had made away with a fast getaway. He made his way back to the two siblings. Though Compton always talked about his sister, Jean had never met Calliope before. Even in her severe condition Jean could tell that she was a looker. He felt for a pulse and it was faint.
“She’s alive,” Jean said with relief, and acted fast. He picked her up and said to Moo-Moo and Compton, “Wipe down everything you think you might have touched. We outta here.”
Neither Jean, Compton, nor Moo-Moo knew what had taken place there but they all were in agreement on one thing: a room with a half-lifeless juvenile girl and a fully smoked pig isn’t the place anyone—especially any of them—wanted to be found in.
12
The glass tower was the nicest residential area in Brickell. And apartment 4118—forty-eight floors up—had been designed by professional decorators with high-end swanky ultra-modern furniture, rugs, and paintings and was one of the nicest in the building.
Inside of one of the four bedrooms, resting on top of a Thomasville queen-sized bed, Calliope coached her eyes open. She couldn’t shake the dizzy feeling and the brightness of the room didn’t help her shake the cobwebs on her head. It jabbed her like a sharp cue stick … then the sudden assault on her senses subsided.
A dark-skinned dude with wavy eyes stood beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a soft melodic voice. He must’ve peeped her confusion by her expression. “Sorry. My name is Jean. My lil’ brother and your lil’ brother are good friends—in fact comrades, partners in crime.” He tried to lighten the mood mentioning those two together.
Compton didn’t have many friends. In fact, she only knew of one. “So you are Moo-Moo’s brother?” she softly and slowly said to him.
“Since the day he was born,” Jean said with a warm smile. “Now”—changing the subject—“back to
“Comp … t?”
Was all that was said, so low, the single word almost wasn’t audible. But the voice on the other end of the phone was unmistakable.
“Calliope?” he questioned. “What’s up, sis?” She sounded like death.
ROOM 326
Calliope, in a state of delirium, managed to convey the name of the inn and the room number. “I need your help,” was the rest of the message, then nothing. A panicked Compton shut down shop immediately and though he had no real details he hipped his friend to the life-or-death business at hand.
Moo-Moo said, “You ain’t going to go anywhere without me.” He was clueless of exactly what they were running into, but knowing they needed to get there yesterday. Moo-Moo wasn’t anybody’s fool by a long shot and got his brother Jean on board.
The door to room 326 was slightly ajar when Jean, Moo-Moo, and Compton arrived. The hotel was damn near a ghost town, except for a doting couple in the pool below doing naughty things, not wanting to be seen themselves.
Inside the room was a far different atmosphere. Everything was quiet and the picture was still. Jean wasn’t deceived by the stillness, he was getting prepared for whatever was waiting for them there, and he had already slipped his gat from his waist and cocked it.
Compton called out his sister’s name, “Calliope!”
Just on the other side of the bedroom, with his top popped and stretched out, was a roller, in full uniform. He was beyond help. Then Compton laid eyes on his sister. She was just a few feet away from the police officer. Scared shitless, he ran over to her, not sure if she was dead or alive.
He gently cupped her head with his hand. “Wake up, Cal, please, I’m begging you,” he said with tears welling up, in his eyes.
She was bleeding from the head, bruised up, and half-naked, a sight that no brother should ever have to see.
While Compton held his sister’s battered body close to him, Jean methodically searched the rest of the suite. Whoever was there was gone now and had made away with a fast getaway. He made his way back to the two siblings. Though Compton always talked about his sister, Jean had never met Calliope before. Even in her severe condition Jean could tell that she was a looker. He felt for a pulse and it was faint.
“She’s alive,” Jean said with relief, and acted fast. He picked her up and said to Moo-Moo and Compton, “Wipe down everything you think you might have touched. We outta here.”
Neither Jean, Compton, nor Moo-Moo knew what had taken place there but they all were in agreement on one thing: a room with a half-lifeless juvenile girl and a fully smoked pig isn’t the place anyone—especially any of them—wanted to be found in.
12
The glass tower was the nicest residential area in Brickell. And apartment 4118—forty-eight floors up—had been designed by professional decorators with high-end swanky ultra-modern furniture, rugs, and paintings and was one of the nicest in the building.
Inside of one of the four bedrooms, resting on top of a Thomasville queen-sized bed, Calliope coached her eyes open. She couldn’t shake the dizzy feeling and the brightness of the room didn’t help her shake the cobwebs on her head. It jabbed her like a sharp cue stick … then the sudden assault on her senses subsided.
A dark-skinned dude with wavy eyes stood beside the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a soft melodic voice. He must’ve peeped her confusion by her expression. “Sorry. My name is Jean. My lil’ brother and your lil’ brother are good friends—in fact comrades, partners in crime.” He tried to lighten the mood mentioning those two together.
Compton didn’t have many friends. In fact, she only knew of one. “So you are Moo-Moo’s brother?” she softly and slowly said to him.
“Since the day he was born,” Jean said with a warm smile. “Now”—changing the subject—“back to
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