Juici Juici

Prologue

It’s the fine dust in the Desert Southwest that causes despair in the weak. Dust and heat lay heavy on the mind. Cities with filters, air condition, cool water, swimming pools, green fresh plants, electricity, and all the modern retail marvels have claimed to tame the desert. But the evil giant lurks on the city’s edge waiting for those foolish enough to tread in its realm.

In the extended van, stuck in the sand, Jimmy D behind the wheel and Samone in the passenger’s seat were asleep. Both men were bloody; barely clinging to life. In the rear of the van Bonnie lay stoned, behind her, Juici holding her .38 in her lap.

Juici carefully examined her nails. Her thoughts, I got to get these friggin’ things fixed soon or lose them all.

Juici slowly lifted her .38----

Chapter 1

The Lake Charles, Louisiana bar, Y’all Come On In Now, was a place to smoke, drink beer, and suck crawfish heads. A lone bartender wiped away leftover beer and crawfish juice with a saturated rag from a twenty foot bar with eight nonmatching stools and ten nonmatching tables with nonmatching chairs. The Cajun band was on break drinking beer and smoking dope behind a curtain. A spilled beer caused a high heel to slip and break bringing laughter from the twenty patrons and vulgar retorts from the victim limping to a restroom with a wide-open door.

When she entered Y’all Come On In Now, every sleaze in the place eyeballed her, women and men. She had all the right curves, and an arrogant deal-with-it attitude. Too classy for this dive.

Jimmy D sat alone sipping his six or seventh drink putting him over Louisiana’s DWI limit. His thoughts, surprised such a cunt would come to this shithole, damn she’s heading straight for me.

Jimmy D; rugged, secure in demeanor; a guy with a reputation. He looked out of place too. But this place was better than drinking alone. Not down on his luck, just between jobs. In Jimmy D's line of work being between jobs was normal, in this case, a long time between jobs.

She moved her extra-large designer sunglasses to her forehead, popped her gum, Name's Juici, before ya ask I'm a model, before ya ask, apple martinis on the rocks, this seat taken?r

He nodded, The seat will love your gorgeous buns. He beckoned Ben, the owner bartender, Apple Martini rocks, I'll take another on my tab.

Ben shrugged. This simple motion told the tab story. This guy was tabbed out. Hadn’t been for the eye-full chick he would have given Jimmy D the finger. We gotta talk about your tab, D.

You gotta a name? she asked, her long fingers wrapped around a custom-made gold case like a viper among vines. The woman reeked of sexual misconduct.

You should know, you came to me, remember?

He didn’t offer her a light, she produced a gold lighter and lit it herself, exhaling smoke down and to the side. This simple act had arousing overtones. Have to make sure you’re the right guy, my business can only be discussed with the right guy. If you’re the guy you know what I mean. If you’re not, my schedule’s open tonight. But, I'm not free.

Her professionally made-up large blue eyes were alive with mischief; secrets dwelling deep within.

Okay, name’s Jimmy D. I could be the right guy. But, I only take clients by referral. Your reference?

We all have a price, she said. Mine is way up there, professionally speaking. Heard yours is too.

Still waiting for a reference, Jimmy D said.

What do your friends call you? she asked.

Don’t have friends, what about the reference?

The bartender called you D. So, your friends call you D?

Lady, this bartender and I do business, he’s a creditor, and I'm in debt. The reference or shake that pretty little butt on out of here. He was smiling, just enough so she wouldn’t take offence.

She slid a business card to him. They told me you were an asshole, had to find out for myself.

He turned the card over and read the code words on the back. Wouldn’t expect doing business with a looker like you. So, Samone referred you. How’s that black son of a bitch?

A notch above a dildo, she said, smiling. I don’t know the fuck, we just do business. You know, the modeling business.

He grinned. This one has it together. No dumb broad here. So, you’re a model, how’s biz?

Her demeanor changed faster than a flashbulb. Been knocking down two hundred grand plus. Was in the groove. Know what I mean? Then, got mixed up with that lying black son of a bitch Jo Jo. If I don’t get that diamond back my ass is toast.

Whoa, lady, need to start from the beginning here. What diamond?

Can’t talk here. Too much sleaze. You’d think I was sitting here nude. That fat bitch wants to go down on me.

Being a model seems you would be used to it by now, he said.

Modeling is for those with money, this is sleaze.

Could be they’re looking at me, he said.

Yeah, right, and I'm a grandmother.

Let’s go to my place.

She gave a squint hesitation, Strictly business.

Strictly.

Jimmy D took her arm and guided her to the door. The gawking got to him. You guys never seen a cock before, come on outside and get a closer look. Yo, fat bitch, she’s on the rag.

Jimmy D's reputation preceded him. No one in the place would ever confront him. The sleazebag men turned away and looked anywhere but at Jimmy D. The fat bitch smiled, a wicked smile; slowly she turned away.

What I thought, Jimmy D said.

The parking lot presented them with three passed out drunks; several vomit sites, and two panhandlers so high they had to sit.

This place always this disgusting? Juici said. Think a guy in his line of work would hang in a better neighborhood.

Hell, it’s only ten, midnight it’s really bad.

When Jimmy D Pulled out his keys and approached a custom-built semi-tractor she stopped in her tracks. That’s your ride?

Yeah. It's a front; I do my business out of this baby. Pretty clever, huh?

Oh my god, I've always wanted to ride in one of these things. They’re so neat. Never dreamed I'd ever get the chance. Truckers got names for their rigs, you got a name for yours?

Yeah, call it Proctologist.

Proctologist? You named your ride Proctologist?

Yeah, hard on the ass if you know what I mean.

Jimmy D turned on the ignition key and the dashboard lit up like a pinball machine.

My god, Juici said. It looks like Christmas. I could even see to put on makeup.

I do it all the time, Jimmy D said.

They both laughed.

Underway Juici really got into it. My god, this is like a carnival ride. Damn, you can see in every car. Look! Them two guy are going down on each other. Blow the horn.

Jimmy D obliged. Blaa, Blaa.

Oh my god, they didn’t even look up, talk about getting it on, Juici said. Been there done that.

They shared another good laugh as they sped on past the two perverts.

So, Juici, you got a last name?

Sure, Juici.

Beg pardon?

Juici, my last name is Juici.

Oh, so what’s your first name?

Juici.

Your name is Juici Juici?

As the world turns.

Got to ask, were your parents into LSD?

Nooo, my mama was on some serious hospital drugs when they asked her the name for the birth certificate. They asked her for my first name and she said, Juici. Then the last name. She said Juici. They asked her to spell it. Mama didn’t go to school and couldn’t spell so good. She told them J-U-I-C-I. Sooo, I became Juici Juici.

Sounds like bullshit to me, Jimmy D said.

Is, but I needed to have some kind of story. That’s what I came up with, is it clever or what?

Juici Juici, even with the story still an odd name, huh?

Odd, I'll tell you what’s odd, D. Who in the hell has a last name D?

She’s using a street name, pretty damn classy street name. She’d been frigged with by this Jo Jo. Her clothes hint of a storybook female charm. She’s wearing more money than the average guy knocks down in a year. Living in her own groove she uses men like a checkbook. Juici Juici's world predicated she would someday need an enforcer like me.

Jimmy D was a man speeding to an early grave. The guy was a living suicide note. Booze binges and wild women kept him broke. He made big bucks killing people he didn’t know. He never thought much about his work. Was what he did. His life style demanded money, a lot of money. When he bottomed out he would go back to work. He was bottomed out, a bit older, but still thought he was on top of his game. He had enemies, had to keep his mind on business. This sweet smelling female was a distraction he couldn’t afford. Had to stay focused.

I take it your mama’s black, Jimmy D Said.

True, my daddy was Mexican, but I never had the pleasure of meeting him, she said, an indifferent attitude apparent. Jimmy D had seen it before, was a give-a-shit attitude to cover the real hurt lurking below the surface.

Jimmy D's mind perused Juici. This woman is an eyeful. It’s not ass, legs, and tits, it’s her poise, and she’s smart. Her ass, legs and tits are all there, but she takes female to a new level. I can feel her being here. She mind-frigs most men into being her toys. But damn if we couldn’t hookup and gel.

Juici became a bit nervous when Jimmy D Turned off the highway and rumbled down a muddy gravel road going deep into a Louisiana swamp. Sure is dark back here, she said, mentally focusing on the .38 in her handbag.

Yeah, dark and peaceful. I own everything you can see. My daddy set me up pretty good when he died. Should have, he was an asshole.

So asshole runs in the genes? she said.

Yeah, been born a cunt still would have been an asshole, like my sister, he said, his smile saying was okay to joke about his family.

Got some of that in my family.

From the darkness a houseboat appeared tied up to a solid concrete pier setting among moss covered cypress trees draped over a bayou. A ghost-like setting full of frogs and alligators seeking mates and other eerie animal sounds. More troubling were the splashes of water, screeches, and cries as unseen and unheard predators sought and found prey.

Jimmy D drove onto the pier and stopped in a gush of air breaks. The forty-foot houseboat had set him back a mil.

My god, this is your place?

Yeah is, best house a man can have.

A houseboat?

No, paid for, he said.

Inside, Jimmy D lit an oil lamp, A bit dim, but don’t like the generator noise. Drink?

Whatta ya got? she said.

Mostly beer, and some gin, he said, shaking a bottle.

Beer works for me, she said.

He handed her a beer and motioned her to have a seat, Let’s get down to it, tell me about Jo Jo.

Jo Jo Harris. Here’s the black bastard’s picture.

Jimmy D took the picture and scanned it the best he could in the dim light. Teardrop tattoo below his left eye. Man one mean bastard what has a tat announcing to the world he’s killed someone. Many scars on his forehead and a six-inch scar on his right cheek.

Okay, Jo Jo Harris. Start from the beginning; why do you require my services?

I work for a guy, sells high end costume jewelry. I model, you know, the jewelry. What happened was all screwed up. I was modeling a diamond, big ass stone, seven, maybe eight karats. I’d just showed a necklace and went back stage and saw Jo Jo going out the back door. Didn’t think twice on it. Jo Jo hangs around my crowd and he’s just there; got use to it. Know what I mean? After the show did an inventory and damn the fucking diamond’s missing. I turn the place upside down and no rock. I can tell you, my boss isn’t the type to be messing with. I saw my boss break a girl’s arm for shorting him twenty bucks. I'm in the deep darks. I knew about Samone and his connections. Go see him and he puts me on to you.

Really? Your boss must be a real prick if he would erase you for costume jewelry. What are we talking, a couple hundred bucks?

That’s the problem. I model real stuff; the better it looks the more he sells. This rock is worth several hundred grand.

You use real stuff to sell fake stuff?

Hey, I just get paid and keep my mouth shut.

It still doesn’t seem like enough to be hitting on a guy. Maybe break him up a little, but killing is forever. Would be better to try to get the rock back.

Look, you don’t get it. My boss can’t let the word get out we model the real stuff. Think about it. He’s got several mil in stones just lying around. Word gets out, what, the security would cost a fortune. If he finds out he’ll blame my ass.

Sad. Okay, ain’t my problem. My fee is ten grand to rough him up, twenty grand to eliminate his ass. I'm in and out. Half up front, and half after.

There’s a little bit more to it, she said, like a comic stretching out the punch line.

A little bit more?

Yeah, I need you to beat the shit out of him before you kill his ass.

Look, lady, you need a sadist for that. I don’t do a double on anyone’s ass, ain’t my style. I follow strict rules. Break my own rules could get my ass caught.

I'm not asking for sadism, I want the rock back, she said. If the black bastard does or don’t give it up, he’s toast.

I'm not a bill collector, Jimmy D said, told you it’s the rules.

How about fifty grand? she said.

Frig the rules. I could make an exception.

I thought you might.

So where can I find this Jo Jo Harris?

Jo Jo is one of my boss’s best clients. See him buy ten thousand dollars’ worth of fakes. He sells them as real. He has his own place, I think in Peoria, but I don’t know for sure. I figure you have connections to find anyone.

Jimmy D got hung up on her hinting Jo Jo would return. He’s ripped your ass off and you think he’ll come back?

She smiled, Sure, Jo Jo’s a dumbass, and my boss doesn’t know he’s been ripped off so we got some time. He wouldn’t go after Jo Jo even if I told him Jo Jo did it. My boss is scared shitless of Jo Jo. He’d even use a hired gun to cap my ass.

You know, if I beat him to death could look like a message to the boys in Chi, Jimmy D said. I got interest in Chi, don’t need to rock boats.

Snoop around a day or so to get him alone and kick some ass, if you can’t, take him out anyway, and I'll still pay fifty grand.

Twenty-five now, twenty-five after, right after, He said.

The envelope was in his hand before he finished the statement. He paused, peek at the cash. I don’t get one thing. If you don’t get the rock back, how can you cover it with your boss?

Easy, same way I'm doing it now, got a good fake in the show. That’s what we do, remember?

Your boss can’t spot a fake and he’s in the fake business?

He don’t know shit about rocks. Got a Jew what takes care of that end. Jew only comes around between tours. We just started a new tour, got three months before my boss gets wise. Maybe I can buy the Jew off. Case you don’t know a little pussy goes a long way.

Chapter 2

The hum of the tires was peaceful as the big truck rumbled over the newly asphalted cracks; going from the swamps of the South up the Mississippi River valley to Tennessee in the summer heat with road crews constantly turning the highway into one lane with traffic often backed up for miles. Jimmy D relied on coffee and the CB to keep him awake. The big truck provided a front, when traveling it became a bore. Making time required him to keep moving; often exceeding bladder capacity. I don’t know how the frig truckers do this shit, catch up to them someday.

Signs read, End Of Construction, and Memphis twenty-one miles. Finally.

His plan was simple, go see Samone, check out Juici's story, and proceed to find Jo Jo. That is if everything was on the up and up. The price is right, but walking into a thing without all the info could get my ass in a jar. That Juici is one fine piece. Distracts a man.

In a black neighborhood on the south side of Memphis Samone ran a drug business from a dirty junkyard, a place of rust, sweat, and rodents where the local police payoff was cheaper than the city. Samone supplied the local pushers, didn’t sell, didn’t advertise; didn’t need to.

A white dude driving a quarter of a million dollar semi-tractor would attract unwanted attention; could become a target. Jimmy D rented a junky, smoking, and complaining car. Even made the homeboys feel sorry for the driver. Hope this piece of shit starts after I shut it off.

When Samone saw a white man drive into his yard he slid a .45 into his waistband. Then, he recognized his old friend, Jimmy D. This man had taken care of business for Samone several times. At one time Samone had his fingers in every crooked scam in the Midwest. A ten-year rap ensued, he did nine. Forced him out of the big time. Over the past several years Samone found cracks and squeezed in to become a smalltime player.

Now age began to show. Hair more than just white around the edges, a noticeable limp, and scars told of Samone's long hard life. His dirty overalls, sweat soaked shirt, and a soiled torn cap seemed to belong on his skinny frame.

Well I'll be damn, if it ain’t the white death come a callin’, Samone said, with a friendly laugh. Get your white ass on in here and give me five.

I'll give you five upside the head is what I'll do, Jimmy D said, extending his hand.

Bit greasy just now, Samone said, got a tranny what fixin’ to get a hammering. What in the hell would bring the best contract man alive to this shithole city? My god, y’all ain't got a scope on my ass have y’all?

Shit, nobody would give a dime to cap your skinny black ass.

Samone smiled, Whatta I wants to hear.

You can tell them two to put the shotguns away, Samone, ain’t packing heavy, got a .38 strapped to my leg. Ain’t got anything on your ass, just looking for some info.

Samone nodded. Two men stepped from the shadows, leaned their shotguns against the wall, and took seats, returning to a card game.

Have a beer, Samone offered.

What kind?

Good and cold.

Don’t mind if I do, Jimmy D said, leaning against a welding table, so how’s the junk business?

Could be better, Samone said. Them what need parts think this place be a chop shop. Scares more away than comes, reckon.

Jimmy D laughed, You lying black asshole, you haven’t been in the junk business ever.

Hey, I diddle in it now and then, Samone said.

The two engaged in small talk and Jimmy D Finally asked. So, how long have you known Juici Juici?

Juici? Got a delivery from her year so ago. That’s one dangerous Oreo bitch, Samone said.

Dangerous?

You bet your sweet ass, Samone said. That bitch is around; trouble hangs off the trees like fruit. Broads connected. She’s the type you don’t want to do no business with and sure the hell don’t get involved with a stiff dick. She’s been owned by more men than stand in the welfare lines in Detroit.

Really, seems like a looker; smart too.

Don’t let that fool y’all none. Female black widow spider looks good to a male spider too. We all know how that works out for the dude.

Who owns her now?

Guy named Rex Sebastian. Real bad dude that Rex. Runs whores in Vegas. Sells fake jewelry. Shit’s so good tell me some Jew’s been known to try and cut it and ended up with a pile of sand. Rex sells most of this fake shit to his pusher. That pusher is as bad as Rex. Got himself a market and sells the shit as real. That ain’t all the pusher’s in to either. He runs a stable of sex-for-order, men and women. High priced operation.

Jimmy D was yet hung up on Juici’s boss being Rex Sebastian. Now ain’t this some shit. Rex Sebastian is big time connected in Chi. Did business with him. This water is getting too deep for my ass. Rex wanted a hit he’s always been upfront.

What’s the pusher’s name?

Look, D, that kind of info can get a man out on the edge. Most know about Rex’s operation, no harm in talking that shit. Other shit gets around. I don’t need no word on the street telling I give out inside shit, dig?

Dig.

Cat named Jo Jo. Samone said.

Jo Jo? Jo Jo Harris?

That be the one.

Ain’t this some crap. Rex Sebastian is big time connected in Chi. They set him up in Vegas. He’s doing business with the guy I'm to take out. I could cross a lot of lines. Those boys in Chi are big time, even international.

If I wanted to stay away from Jo Jo where would I keep my ass out of? Jimmy D Said.

Jo Jo’s place is in Peoria, Illinois. Place called, you ready for this, called Diamonds and Gems in the Rough.

Jo Jo fences fake diamonds and calls his place Diamonds and Gems in the Rough? Jimmy D said.

"Yeah, and that ain’t all neither, even a queerer reason for the name. The man traffic’s in skin, young pussy. Tell me five large get y’all a 14 year old virgin, you know, one what only been used a dozen times.

This ain’t no place to be playing Rambo. Jo Jo got a good crew, they say be easier to break into Fort Knox than his place. Jo Jo is a gem dealer. Some fake, some real, the real is mostly stolen. Man got more ice than a hockey rink. Tell me he got’s the mayor and police in his back pocket. Say the mayor don’t wipe his ass less he ask Jo Jo first. Say his place knocks down hundred g’s a week.

You got an inside ringer who can show me around his place, Jimmy D asked. You know, a walk around and put it on paper?

Yeah, if you can put up with her mouth, Samone said.

I can.

You think, Samone said. Bonnie’s her name. She’s queer so don’t get no fancy ideas or could end up dickless.

What did Juici say to you? Jimmy D asked.

Me, shit man Juici never talked to me about shit.

She said you put her on to me.

The broad is lying through her ass, bro. Juici made a delivery to me once, but I ain’t never talked to her about shit. She played delivery bitch for Rex, but I didn’t say three words to her. I'd reference you to those what I know be straight with your ass but wouldn’t send you no trouble like that bitch.

Damn, it don’t add up, if she wants me to pop Jo Jo, why in the hell would she lie about her reference. Someone had to put her on to me. Got to move careful on this thing, a lot going on here.

JJ

Bonnie turned out to be the pain in the ass Samone had mentioned. Young woman, mid-twenties, not a bad looker, but dressed with no sex appeal intended. Plain loosely fitting blouse and men's Levis was as good as it got. Little makeup, no perfume, or nail polish, she tried hard to look like a boy, but couldn’t hide the fact she was in full bloom. Her biggest turnoffs were her fried brains and her bitching mouth. She was silly dumb. Like an embarrassment dumb. Her bitching could send the hair crawling up a man’s neck. Her obsession of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time often became damn right annoying.

Look-it, why the hell did you take 55? Told you it was all torn up. Should have got on 57, be a lot better, Bonnie said. Take a good hour longer on this road.

You don’t like this road I take it, Jimmy D said.

No I don’t, too damn rough and this fucked up seat don’t help much. Where the hell we going?

How do you know it will take an hour longer on this road if you don’t know where we’re going? Jimmy D said.

Up yours, she said. Where the fuck we going?

Samone didn’t tell you?

No he didn’t, if’n he had I wouldn’t be askin’ you would I? Gave me hundred and said do what you ask. I said no sex. He said you weren’t interested in sex. I guess you’re queer or something like that.

With broadening smile, Jimmy D said, Something like that.

You gonna tell me or what? she said.

Jimmy D looked at Bonnie, he’d guessed she knew why she was here. Bonnie was a ringer. A person who had been inside Jo Jo’s place and knew the score. Maybe Samone didn’t tell her. Peoria, Illinois, Jimmy D said.

Peoria? she stiffened, stared at Jimmy D and paused. Then, What’s in Peoria?

Diamonds and Gems in the Rough, he said.

Oh shit. Look-it, mister, I ain’t gonna get unloaded in that shithole again. You try that shit you’re gonna have a fight on your hands. The first person I see I'll yell rape, swear to god, I ain’t going back. I knew Samone was tired of my ass hangin’ around but he’d never send me back. Oh fuck. Would he?

Relax, I’m not taking you there I'm taking me there. I need you to sketch out a drawing, you know, a floor plan of the place. Then, we’ll stake it out and you can tell me who is going in and out. I'm just interested in Jo Jo's operation. Need your help for a couple days then I'll take you back to Memphis.

That’s it?

"That’s it.

Whatta you got going? Anything in it for me? You a cop? Man I can tell you some shit about that place. Jo Jo Harris runs it. They got girls in there so young they keep a milk cow out back. You’re not into kinky Child porn are ya? Let’s me out. I'm experienced as hell, ain’t no virgin. ’Sides, I'm into girls. Guys are necessary, but when it comes to satisfying a woman they don’t know shit. Give me a hot woman anytime.

You’re a lez are you? Jimmy D said. Okay by me, you’re not my type anyway.

Type? Just what I mean, you guys put women into a group and only pick from it. Well women ain’t thatta way. I can pick out any woman and meet her if I want. Don’t need no fancy clothes and hundred dollar hairdo either.

Really, so all women are lezbo when they want to be satisfied?

I didn’t say that. I ain’t talking about all women, I'm talking about gay women. Men are into looks, gay women could give a shit about looks or age. It’s all about making sure your partner is satisfied.

My god, woman, you’re living a fucked up life. Samone was right, you are a pain in the ass.

Up yours.

Springfield is just ahead. We’ll get a motel and you can start making some drawings with me, Jimmy D said.

Whoa, look-it, I ain’t getting no motel room with you. You men are all the same. It’s all about sex. Forget it buster, I not into men.

Who said a damn word about sex? I'll tell you who. Was you, that’s who. You’ve been going on about sex for the past hundred miles. I've got a job to do and sex with a homo ain’t part of the plan.

Her lower lip gave away her pout. She wiped away a tear. We need to stop and get a pencil and paper.

Got it in my bag, he said.

You come prepared. Bet you got a condom in there too.

Used them all up last night. We can stop at a drug store and get some if you want.

Up yours.

They laughed. The tension disappeared like fog in sunlight. They became two odd balls sparing for a place in a screwed up world. In the motel room they worked on sketches for hours, well past midnight. It was important Jimmy D knew every fine detail both interior and exterior of the building.

Bonnie had been forced into