Elder Bloom dragged himself back over to the couch and gingerly lowered himself into it.
“Go and sit down, Grandma,” the gunman said to Mother Bloom, who gladly accepted. Her back and legs were aching like crazy.
“About three more trips to the car and we got everything,” a gunman updated his colleague standing watch in the living room.
“You’re going to pay for this,” Elder Bloom warned. “Mark my words, you are all going to pay.”
The masked gunman chuckled. “Oh, I’m going to get paid all right.”
Elder Bloom replied, “You think—”
“Shut up!” a gunman hissed in a much-lower tone so as not to alert the neighbors. “Keep threatening me, and I’ll make you pay, old man.”
Mother Bloom reached over and patted her husband’s leg, willing him to keep his mouth shut. Getting killed over Saddam and King Kong’s drugs and money wasn’t the way Mother Bloom wanted to go and meet her maker. Mark you, King Kong did take good care of them for using their house, and the balance in Bloom’s retirement bank account was a testimony to that. But it wasn’t their fault they got robbed. Who told these thugs about the stash anyway?
“Okay, player. Let’s roll.” The other two gunmen returned to the living room after emptying the cellar.
“Cut the phone line,” the watchman instructed in order to delay the call to Saddam and King Kong. He wasn’t worried about the Blooms calling the police. After all, what were they going to report? My grandson’s drugs and money were just stolen from our house?
After the phone line was cut, the men headed toward the front door.
“Stay where you are,” one of the gunmen warned. “See? We’re leaving now.”
Two gunmen marched out, while the third one with the gun backed out slowly, his gun still pointed at the Blooms. Once he was out in the hallway where he could no longer see the couple, he stuck his gun in his waist, turned around, and walked to the opened door to exit the house.
“Don’t move!” Elder Bloom appeared in the hallway like Houdini, a long shotgun in his feeble hands.
The gunman spun around, his eyes opening wide behind the mask when he saw the gun that was now turned on him. “Now wait a minute, Gran... sir. We don’t want anyone to get hurt here.” He put a hand to the gun on his waist, the other outstretched toward Elder Bloom.
“I said don’t move.” Elder Bloom cocked the gun and took another step closer to the intruder.
The gunman dropped the hand that was reaching for the gun. He glanced over his shoulder to see if any of his partners in crime were coming to his aid. “Listen to me. You don’t want to do—hey!”
A loud boom rang out into the night as Elder Bloom fired a shot over the gunman’s head, solidifying that he wasn’t joking around. “I said bring back the stuff in the house.”
Mother Bloom appeared behind her husband, pleading with him to come back into the living room and let the gunmen go. “Sweetheart, please don’t let things get worse.”
Elder Bloom ignored her and cocked the gun again, leveling it. This time, he was going to make sure he hit someone. “I’m going to show you some—”
Pow! Pow! Two shots rang out.
Elder Bloom’s eyes and mouth popped open in surprise. The shotgun fell out of his hand before his body followed it to the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead and another in his neck. His body twitched in the throes of death before it stilled. His eyes stared lifelessly up into the ceiling.
One of the gunmen ran over, grabbed the shotgun, and took off.
Mother Bloom screamed. She wobbled over to Elder Bloom and, with some difficulty, lowered herself beside him. She lifted his head onto her lap, and her husband’s blood soaked through her nightgown. A small river of snot seeped down Mother Bloom’s face as she rocked the body of the man she had spent most of her life with.
The gunmen ran to the car, started it up, and backed out of the Blooms’ driveway with the tires squealing as they made their escape.
Lights came on in neighboring houses as calls poured in to Jamaica’s 119 emergency number switchboard.
The plan to rob King Kong’s drugs and money didn’t go as anticipated, and Saddam’s beloved grandfather was dead. Everything was about to turn upside down!
Chapter Eleven
The phone vibrated in Cobra’s pocket. With a smirk on his face, he moved away from the crowd to a corner of the club to read the good news.
“What the...?” Cobra felt as if he were about to wet himself. He flipped the phone closed and rushed past a baffled Suave and Daddy Lizard. Pushing his way through the jam-packed club, Cobra dashed into the men’s room. He looked to see that the bathroom was empty, then quickly dialed a number.
“You better tell me it’s not true!” Cobra shrieked when the call was answered. “Please, tell me it’s not so.”
Little Bimbee, one of the gunmen, said, “He took us by surprise, Godfather. He was going to ghost my brother and left me with no choice.”
Cobra bellowed a few more expletives as he paced the men’s room. His head was pounding. “Where’s the baby?” he asked of the drugs and money.
“Sleeping safe and sound.”
“All right, I want everyone to take that vacation.” Cobra instructed the men to disappear with the stash as planned. He disconnected the call, cursed some more, and kicked the wall in anger. How in heaven’s name was he going to tell Suave?
“Yo, the boss wants to know if everything is cool,” Daddy Lizard remarked as he entered the men’s room, closing the door behind him. He took one look at Cobra’s face, and his heart fell. “What happened?” He glanced toward the closed bathroom door before moving closer to Cobra. “No dice?” His eyebrows rose and fell.
Cobra took a deep breath. “They killed Elder Bloom,” he whispered.
“They did what?” Daddy Lizard screamed. “What do you mean—?”
The men’s room door opened, filtering loud music inside, as two men staggered in and made their way to the urinals.
Daddy Lizard marched out of the men’s room with Cobra on his heels. They made their way through the sweaty, moving bodies over to Suave.
Suave took one look at their faces and fired off a few F bombs. “What happened?” He looked at Cobra, who oversaw the operation.
Cobra moved near to him and whispered the bad news in his ear.
Suave closed his eyes in frustration. “You mean to tell me the three jackasses didn’t check the house for weapons?” he said through gritted teeth for Cobra’s ears.
“The man is about eighty years old and is an elder at his church. Who would expect that from him?”
“The man is crazy Saddam’s grandfather! He raised a lunatic, so what did you expect, huh?” Suave took deep breaths as he tried to think. No doubt Saddam and King Kong had heard the news by now. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No.” Cobra laid a hand on Suave’s arm. “If we leave now, people will be suspicious. We have to chill for another hour or so.”
Suave nodded his aching head in agreement. The game just took a dangerous turn.
* * *
“Speak to me!” Saddam shouted into his cell phone above the noise in the bar. He took a sip of his whiskey.
“Saddam,