Neo
Geisha
by
Monica L. Patton
Genre:
Steamy Thriller
Philomene
Doucette is a made-to-order assassin, and death never looked so good.
Smuggled into Japan to carry out a kill, she finds herself enmeshed
in a web of half-truths and shadow agendas. When the carnage exacts a
personal toll, Philomene takes it all on--like the beautiful monster
she was programmed to be.
"The
characters are intriguing and the storyline pulled me in from the
first page. The family dynamic, power struggles, and mystery
surrounding the disappearance of... the perfect concoction for a
page-turner." - Sara Fields, Book Club Moderator, The Phenomenal
Women Group
**Releasing
this Fall!!**
Neo Geisha Synopsis
Philomene Doucette is a made-to-order assassin, and death never looked so good.
Brain-washed by Beau Dupree, a CIA spook, Philomene is preparing for her biggest
mission to date: Kill Haruto Mori, leader of Japan's Onagowai clan. She is put under the
charge of Tadakai, the son of Dupree's Yakuza associate. Despite being cautioned,
Tadakai falls for the pretty killer—and despite herself, she returns his love.
To conceal her true purpose, she is smuggled into Japan via the sex trade and given as a
gift to Haruto. Philomene's mission to kill Haruto becomes an inner battle as she
struggles to break free of her conditioning and the growing fondness she feels both for
Haruto and his ever-present shadow, The Green-Eyed One. When there is an outside
attempt on Haruto's life, Philomene realizes there is more to the mission than revealed.
Devastated when the carnage exacts a personal toll, she takes it all on--like the beautiful
monster she was programmed to be.
NEO GEISHA will be issued with a companion six-song soundtrack, co-composed by
Monica L. Patton, author and co-lyricist of the Broadway-bound Love & Southern
Discomfort, and Daniel Klintworth, the former associate conductor on The Book of
Mormon Musical Tour." The novel features cover and chapter art by Harvey Richards,
formerly of DC Comics, with actress Bryce Charles serving as the muse and Literary and
cultural coach Dr. Yuko Kurahashi for cultural competency.“Neo Geisha” * #1274059 WGAE * monica@pdsproductions.net
by
Monica L. Patton
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Chapter 1
Till Death Do Us Part
She stood in the opulent foyer with her back against him. The top of her black, very tight,
very short dress was pulled down, exposing her tawny brown skin. She leaned on him for
support as he branded the side of her neck with his lips. One hand caressed her generous
chest while the other, wet with her need, teased the swollen bud atop her sex. She turned
around to taste him. Their tongues wrestled for control as she slowly backed him up
toward the living room. With her mouth still locked onto his, she unbuttoned his pants,
pushed him down on the couch and swiftly mounted him.
His cadence steady, her rhythm sure as passion surged between them. A tiny thread of
sadness crept inward.
A thread.
That is all she would allow. As she reached up and undid the clasp of her barrette, a
cascade of inky black waves tumbled down and around her shoulders.
From the base of the barrette, she pulled an ornate jewel, unsheathing a needle coated
with a sticky white substance. As her hips increased their tempo, she stroked the top of
his head and peppered him with feathery kisses. He was near to completion when he
called out her name.
"Sophie."
Her rhythm faltered. She hated that name.
He opened his eyes. "Sophie?"
She inserted the needle between his top two vertebrae.
He froze with a look of mild surprise on his face. He tried to speak, but his mouth
would not move and, to his horror, neither could he.
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"Shh..." she whispered as she placed the tips of her fingers on his lips and
reverently watched him struggle with the encroaching darkness. As he closed his eyes,
she kissed the top of his head, then said a prayer.
She always said a prayer.
Death was sacred, even if she was the one dealing it.
She got up, righted her dress, walked back into the foyer toward the console table
to grab her purse then up the stairs to the door just left of the landing. It was a steel
security door with a digital keypad lock. She reached into her clutch and took out a small
aerosol can. Upon first glance, it looked like hairspray. She sprayed the substance on the
keypad and when it dried, it left a residue on the keys from the oil that had been
deposited from the owner’s fingertips.
Taking out a cell phone, she pulled a cord from its base and inserted that into the
lock. She plugged in the numbers then waited for her modified phone to go through all
possible configurations in less than a minute until triggering the lock. The door opened to
a home office, ordinary in scope except for the almost half-million-dollar security system.
There, for one thing only, she detached the portable hybrid external drive and left the way
she came. She took out her cell phone again and this time used it as such.
[Ring.]
[Ring.]
Then, finally: [Click.]
"I'm listening," said the voice on the other end. Exact. Male.
"Seven," she replied. Flat. Hollow.
She put her cell phone back in her handbag then reapplied her lipstick in the mirror
above the entryway table.
Red lips reflected back.
The mirror shattered and red ran down her arm. Red dripped onto her very tight, very
short dress and it mattered none as she put on her sunglasses, grabbed the hard drive and
walked out the door.
She drove away in her black SLK convertible. Reaching into the armrest, she brought
out a remote control, pushed its lone button, then threw it in the back seat. A great boom
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sounded as she neared the corner. In the rearview mirror, she saw smoke and flames
paint the sky black and red.
Police cars whizzed past her.
Fire trucks followed.
She drove--down the Hudson, through the Catskills and across the Delaware until
the light of dusk stained the horizon. When she saw a tiny, out-of-the-way cottage, she
stopped, and sat motionless in the car, like a robot out of charge
Minutes passed before she slowly looked around and her eyes brightened with the
remembrance of how she came to be there.
She got out of the car and walked toward the front door of the cottage. As she
opened it, she dropped her keys on the floor. Their clattering sound reminded her of spent
shell casings. She pulled her dress off from over her head and threw it down alongside
her keys, then walked toward the back of the cottage, through the open patio doors, and
dove into the pool lying beyond it.
She submerged herself completely, reveling in the cold sting of the water, and
remained there till the air in her lungs burned for release. The butterflies took flight.
Always the butterflies, as she unfolded within herself and pushed out her darker self, who
found no issue with killing.
When she emerged from the water, a young woman stood at the pool's edge with a
towel extended. Blonde. Green-eyed. Knowing. She watched as her bronze mistress, who
was barely older than she, stepped out of the pool and into her waiting arms. She dried
her hair with the towel then wrapped it around her as she hummed a lullaby for only her
mistress to hear. As she led her into the great room, the song quieted the fluttering in her
mistress' head.
A tall Asian man stood waiting. Lean. Muscular. Handsome--almost pretty. He
nodded, ever so slightly. The petite blonde released her and disappeared into the
adjoining room.
"Philomene?"
Nothing.
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Without a word, he walked into the bedroom and moments later, returned with a
robe. Philomene was motionless as he placed the robe on her. He guided her over to the
couch, sat her down, then sat down beside her.
He turned to her.
"Not now, Tadakai." Philomene stayed facing forward.
He faced front again. "He affected you."
“I don’t know.” She leaned forward with her head down, elbows propped on her
knees. "He was...kind."
Tadakai did not respond.
"How much time do we have?"
"None. We leave in the morning."
Philomene sat back. "Are we in play then?"
Tadakai walked over to the bar and poured drinks, scotch on the rocks for him,
bourbon straight up for her.
She took a deep breath. "I'm tired."
"Don't." He handed her the drink.
She took a large swig, savoring the slow burn down her throat, then took another
and finished it. Her face warmed but she felt her insides cold.
Tadakai observed Philomene's internal battle, but it was short-lived. In an instant,
the light went out in her eyes. "Come." He stood up and extended his hand. "You should
sleep."
Philomene put her hand in his without argument. She was tired but sleep would
elude her as it had for the past couple of nights. Death filled her dreams, but whose she
did not know.
Tadakai walked her to her room and stopped at the door.
Philomene stood motionless with her back to him, willing him to cross the
threshold.
"I'll do one last sweep of the area before I lock down for the night."
Philomene nodded as she turned to face him.
He nodded slightly then made to leave.
"Tadakai?"
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He turned to face her.
She hesitated. She wanted to say “Stay,” but Philomene was conditioned not to
want. Not to want, not to hope, not to expect, only to be--what the mission required. She
had wanted to say stay, but all she said was "Goodnight."
Tadakai nodded and left.
Philomene closed the door and stared at nothing. She had been feeling unsettled
of late, which was unusual because most times she did not feel anything at all. She sensed
a presence and wondered if Tadakai had had a change of heart. When she opened the
door, the petite blonde stood with a cup of tea extended.
Philomene ignored the offering. "Can I help you, Sissy?"
"I thought you'd like something to help you relax, Miss Doucette. I know you haven't
been sleeping well."
"How so?"
"You cry out in your sleep." Sissy offered the cup again.
Philomene ignored the offering again, but she stood aside to let her into the room.
She felt that even if she had objected, Sissy would have insisted.
Sissy placed the tea on the nightstand. "Please excuse my familiarity, Miss
Doucette. My only concern is your well-being.”
"Sissy, I wish you would call me Phil. We have known each other for a while
now."
"I don't think it's advisable," Sissy said with a shake of her head.
Philomene said nothing.
"Let me braid your hair up for the night, Miss Doucette. It will be so pretty when I
take it down in the morning."
"It's not necessary."
"Beau likes for you to look pretty," she said, then as an afterthought, she put on a
homegrown Southern smile. "Sit, it will only take a minute."
Philomene sat down on the bed.
Sissy brushed Philomene's hair till all the tangles were out. Afterward, she plaited the
long tresses and all the while, crooned a disconsolate tune. The ministrations relaxed
Philomene.
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Make her stop.
The image of her Six-Year-Old Self flickered briefly in Philomene's head.
I don't like that song. She's gonna wake the butterflies.
Philomene stood up abruptly. "Thank you, Sissy, that'll be all."
Sissy smiled but it wasn't genuine or believable.
Philomene watched her leave.
I don't like her, said her Six-Year-Old Self as she corporealized in Philomene's
mind's eye to stand beside her.
With a faraway look in her eyes, Philomene nodded as she drifted back to a
memory best left unremembered.
The bedroom morphed and faded into a dimly lit concrete bunker. The hour was late,
and the same woeful tune Sissy had been singing was playing loudly from a vintage
record player. Six-Year-Old Philomene was being timed as she disassembled and
reassembled an assault rifle. Philomene stumbled over her task and with all mistakes,
Beau poked her with an electric cattle prod, sending 4000 volts into her tiny,
sleep-deprived body. He turned up the music to drown out her screams.
The bedroom reappeared. Philomene's eyes were moist. There was so much she
couldn't remember, only the blood. There was always blood.
Her Six-Year-Old Self took hold of her hand. You remember the song.
As she closed her eyes, Philomene haltingly began to hum.
Her Six-Year-Old Self joined in. It was their song now.
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Chapter 2
Child of the Blues
Early next morning, the three departed. All traces of their occupation wiped clean the
night before by Sissy. They chartered a small plane out of Factoryville, Pennsylvania.
Their destination: Plaquemine, Louisiana. A quintessential, sleepy, Southern town that
time had forgotten.
Philomene both loved and loathed its cicada-filled, moss-covered bayou
backwardness. Dirty, pretty things wrapped in gentility. Majestic, crumbling facades held
together by secrets. Philomene knew about secrets. Her whole life was one. She closed
her eyes and leaned her head on the windowpane. It was cool to the touch.
Go to sleep, Phil.
Her Six-Year-Old Self, climbing into the narrow bed she had once shared with her
mother. Philomene shook the image away. I don't want to sleep, she silently said to
herself.
You don't want to dream.
Having learned how, some time ago, Philomene mentally erected a wall. She was
too tired to deal with more than one voice in her head. She looked over at Tadakai, then
behind, to spy Sissy texting away on her BlackBerry.
"Do you need anything, Miss Doucette?" said Sissy as she looked up.
"No."
"We'll be home in three hours, Miss Doucette. Maybe you should rest your eyes
for a spell? Mr. Dupree wants to see you immediately after we land."
A small voice giggled.
Philomene pictured a door shutting closed, instantly rendering the voice silent.
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* * *
"Fifi, I am going to need that pot for my gumbo."
"Look, Mama. I’m making gumbo too! See?" Philomene sat on the kitchen floor
surrounded by pots and pans. Her favorite dolls, all dressed in their best finery, sat
propped up nearby as she prepared their imaginary feast.
Alice smiled as she bent down and grabbed the eight-quart pot, giving it a good rinse
in the sink. "Then all I have to do is add the onions and peppers, and we got ourselves
some good eats." She went to the refrigerator and grabbed a stick of butter for the roux.
"Tell you what, since you made my job easier, how ’bout I make a batch of pralines."
Philomene jumped to her feet and did a happy dance then ran to her mother,
wrapping her arms around her legs. Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps, she peeked
from around her mother.
Beau Dupree, the white man her mama worked for, stood in the doorway, looking
far off into the distance. The big man scared her, and as if hearing her confession, he
turned and looked directly at her, smiling a fearsome, toothy grin. She almost peed her
underpants. Philomene felt her mother ruffle her curls, and all thoughts of the bad man
disappeared. Smiling, she looked up, but it was no longer her mother's face gazing at
her--it was her own.
Her mother with the face like hers lifted the pot of gumbo and carried it into the
next room. Philomene ran after her. At the head of the dining table, she saw Beau sitting
like a deposed king. Tadakai, the gallant knight, sat beside her play brother, Junior, the
disgraced prince. Each man stared up at her, expectantly. Philomene the mother looked
in the pot. "It’s not enough." She looked back toward the men, her eyes broadcasting her
anguish. "I don't have enough to go around." Her hands shook as tears flowed from her
eyes.
Philomene the little girl pushed a chair from the table toward her mother, climbed
and placed a kiss on her damp cheek. "Go to sleep, Fifi," she whispered. Philomene the
mother smiled and closed her eyes, releasing everything into the younger one's care. As
the pot went crashing to the floor, Philomene the little girl clasped her hands together in
the shape of a gun.
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***
Philomene jerked up in her seat. Out of habit, she went for her gun but thankfully
came up empty. Awake now, she settled back in her seat, fully aware that Tadakai was
now seated beside her. He extended a bottle of water toward her and without a word of
thanks or a look in his direction, she took it.
"You called out for your mother," he said, his voice void of emotion.
Philomene unscrewed the top and took a sip.
"Where is your mother?"
Philomene shrugged. "I don't know."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?"
"I am also without a mother."
She turned and looked out the window. "This is not a contest." She immediately
regretted her words.
Tadakai returned to his seat.
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Chapter 3
Bayou Boogie
They arrived at a private airstrip just outside of Baton Rouge. As she disembarked,
Philomene spied a black Town Car waiting nearby. The driver, one of the many nameless
faces Beau employed, stood beside the open car door. Tadakai placed their baggage by
the trunk then climbed into the back alongside Philomene. Sissy sat up front and resumed
tapping away on her iPone.
As Philomene gazed out the window, with the passing of each familiar landmark,
her tension slowly dissipated. She did not always understand this place of sorrow and
grandeur, but she felt its power wafting through the trees, seeping from the soil, and she
was somehow in tune with its ancient song.
The car turned onto a dusty back road flanked by ancient oaks and weeping
willows. Philomene lowered her window, flooding the car with the rich, earthy scent of
the nearby Bayou Lafourche. As they emerged from the density of the trees, a sprawling
antebellum plantation unfolded into view. The driver turned left and pulled up into a long,
tree-lined driveway that had horses grazing on both sides. In the front yard, pruning
centuries-old rose bushes, kneeled a woman in her late 50s, with her long silver-gray hair
secured haphazardly atop her head.
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The car stopped and Philomene got out before the driver could open the door for
her.
"Phil!" The woman stood up with her arms outstretched and a smile on her face.
Philomene walked into her arms and allowed herself to be held. "Hello, Tite."
Minette Dupree, affectionately called "Tite," hugged Philomene tighter. "My
goodness, you get prettier every time I see you, which is not often enough, may I add."
Philomene smiled.
"Are you hungry? I've got some sweet tea and tea cakes on the porch."
"No, thank you."
Tite gently placed her hands on both sides of Philomene's face. "I don't like it
when you're gone so long." Tite finally acknowledged Tadakai as he quietly stood by.
"Mr. Watanabe."
Tadakai made a slight bow with his head.
"How was the trip?" she asked out of politeness.
"Successful."
Tite waited for him to say more.
Nothing.
"Tite?"
Mrs. Dupree turned to Philomene. "Yes, darling?"
"Is he in his office?"
"Child, that's the only place he is of late," she answered as she resumed her
gardening.
As Philomene and Tadakai made their way up the steps onto the porch, Mrs.
Dupree said, "Oh, by the way--Junior's home."
Philomene paused. "For how long?"
"I don't know," Tite replied, not looking up from her gardening. "It seems that he
got into a little bit of trouble down in New Iberia so he's here cooling his heels. Beau's
none too happy with him, but we both know he rarely is." She sat back on her heels and
turned her head toward Philomene. "Anyway, I thought I'd..."
"Warn me?"
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"Warn you? If my memory serves me right, I think it was Junior who required
stitches from y'all’s last encounter."
"I said I was sorry."
"And I'm sure you were. I just thought you'd like to know, that's all."
Phil nodded then turned, headed toward the house.
"Stitches?" said Tadakai, following close behind.
"Uh huh." Philomene turned right, past the library, and headed toward the east
wing.
"Perhaps one day you will share the story with me."
"There's nothing to share. He had something of mine, I wanted it back, end of
story."
"I see."
"Do you?" she said, raising a brow. Philomene stopped in front of a pair of
imposing mahogany doors. To the left of them, a graying black manservant in a valet
uniform, replete with gold braids and all, rested on a high-backed chair.
"Bienvenu! Welcome back, Miss Phil. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
"La meme, Mr. Ceebo." Philomene warmed at the familiar sight of him. Mr.
Ceebo was as old as Moses and had been with the Duprees just as long.
"Mr. Dupree told me you'd be stopping by. Will you be staying a spell?"
"Not likely."
He smiled and nodded in understanding.
"Mr. Ceebo, you have on your Heads of State uniform. Are we expecting
someone important today?"
Mr. Ceebo tugged down on his vest. "No, Miss Phil, just you--just you!”
Philomene smiled and it almost reached her eyes. Since the day of her mother's
disappearance, Mr. Ceebo had always had a ready lap and infinite patience for a
confused, angry little girl.
Mr. Ceebo looked over her shoulder at Tadakai and bowed his head. "Mr. Watanabe."
Tadakai returned the gesture. "Mr. Ceebo."
Mr. Ceebo turned his attention back to Philomene. "It'll be jus' a minute, Miss
Phil. Mr. Dupree is counseling one of his employees."
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[BAM!]
"Alrighty, then," Mr. Ceebo said calmly. "I guess counseling is over. Have a seat,
Miss Phil. I'll let him know you're here." He took a deep breath and pulled out an old
pistol from the inside of his vest.
"Do you think you'll be needing that, Mr. Ceebo?"
"Chil', even the Devil's luck runs out."
"Then maybe I should go with you."
"We," said Tadakai, chiming in.
Mr. Ceebo hesitated then nodded his head. "All right but let me go first."
Philomene wanted to protest but thought better of it. Mr. Ceebo was stubborn, and
time was wasting. When Mr. Ceebo turned away, both she and Tadakai quietly readied
their guns.
Mr. Ceebo knocked on the heavy doors. "Mr. Dupree, is everything, all right?"
Muffled moans could be heard from inside.
"Yes, Pritchard," replied a gruff voice. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Mr. Ceebo put his gun back in his vest and opened the doors.
Standing in the middle of the room was a slight man with a ruddy complexion. He
was holding his bloodied hand close to his chest as he apologized profusely. The front of
his overalls slowly darkened with his blood. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dupree. I'll never do it
again."
"You bet your ass you won't! Let me hear of you damaging my merchandise again
and the next time it won't be your hand. Got it?"
The man nodded frantically. "Yes, sir! I sho' do!”
Beau, a man with the physique of an aged linebacker, stood up from behind the
executive desk with his gun pointed directly at the bleeding man. "Now get your ignorant
swamp ass out of my face."
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" cried the bleeding man, leaving a telltale trail as he
backed out of the room.
"See?" Beau muttered aloud. "Try to be nice and bring a couple of 'em boys out of
the swamp and they wanna play you for a fool." Indicating with the gun, he pointed
toward the blood on the carpet. "Pritchard, have Louisa clean this shit up." He then
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returned the loaded gun inside the bottom right drawer. He looked at Philomene
pointedly. "Well?"
Philomene took the hard drive out of her satchel and placed it on his desk.
Beau settled back into his chair, gesturing to Philomene and Tadakai to sit down
as well. "I received word from my contact at the French consulate down in Nawlins.
Effective, but a little over the top don't ya think?"
"You said to sanitize," Philomene answered dryly.
"Yes, but..."
"The signature echoes that of NPR in the French Congo, crude but efficient. I
layered the trail to allude to his family's ties to the blood diamond trade."
Beau furrowed his brow. "I see you've been doing your homework."
"It's what you trained me to do."
"Yeah, well, don't forget I still have a few tricks of my own."
"Duly noted."
"Don't be a smartass."
Philomene lowered her gaze. "Forgive me. It's just that I'm tired. It would have
been nice to have a moment."
"Damn it, Phil! You know I don't like putting you into play so soon after, but you
knew that when this went down it would go down hard and fast." Beau looked to Tadakai.
"Is she ready?"
"Yes."
"She better be, because it has taken me many years, many bribes and many bullets
to get to this moment. So, this goes without saying: if you fuck up, I will fuck you up."
Tadakai tipped his head forward.
Addressing them both, Beau asked, "Are you sound on the history?"
They nodded in unison.
"Your backstory is layered enough if anyone starts asking questions." He directed
his next words to Philomene. "I wish it were get in, get out, little girl, but you're going in
deep on this one. The hit can't go down, I repeat you cannot neutralize the target, until
you have the contents of the book or the book itself.”
"Have we confirmed its location?"
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Beau stretched his large frame. "No, we've only been able to ascertain--to a
degree--its existence." He continued with the briefing. "No hardware for this one. You'll
go with the other girls with only the clothes on your back. I have my best handlers for
this trip, but I can't guarantee you won't be messed with. But I trust that you will find a
way to dispose of them discreetly if it comes to that."
"Of course."
"There are two weapon drops at your disposal. A garage on Detamachi Pier in
Yokohama and The Hotel Charm in the Shinagawa Prefecture." Beau turned to Tadakai.
"Your father informed me that he has someone in place to act as a go-between."
Tadakai nodded.
"Good, because you're strangers once you leave this house. You will have no
further contact until the mark has been eliminated. Do you understand?"
They nodded.
"You have less than twelve hours."
As Tadakai and Philomene went to leave, Beau said, "Phil, wait a minute."
Tadakai looked at her, then left. Philomene remained, standing.
Beau rose up from behind his desk. "Remember your endgame.”
"Affirmative."
"Stay on point."
"Absolutely."
He walked around to stand behind her. "Locate, acquire, erase," he commanded as
he dragged the tip of his thumb along her jawline. "Queen takes rook."
Go to sleep, Fifi! pleaded her Six-Year-Old Self as she stood at the threshold, too
afraid to cross over.
"Queen takes pawn, queen takes..." Beau's voice was like the low rumble of a
coming storm.
Philomene's head filled with the growing resonance of fluttering wings. "Don't.
Please," she begged as she whipped around. "Not yet. It's not her turn. It's not time, it's
not...I don't wanna go away."
"Go to sleep, Fifi."
It slipped out before she had a chance to think about what it would cost her. "No."
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Beau chuckled, but it was anything but joyous. "You were always a fast learner;
I'll give you that. And since I'm in a giving mood, this little display? I'll give you this one,
too, but I made you. I'll decide whose turn it is." Beau stepped back, confident his threat
hit home.
With her head down, Philomene sank to her knees. She raised her arm, hand limp
and broken at the wrist like a primate in an act of submission. Her knees still bore the
faint scars from hours spent kneeling on uncooked rice until they were bloodied, and all
for offenses the average person living an average life would have difficulty
understanding.
She readied herself.
She was becoming more adept at re-engaging and memory lapses were fewer
when she embraced the awakening, but there were always questions--blood-soaked
questions.
After a long moment, Beau tapped the back of her hand with his.
Philomene rose, her expression neutral but inside, she was relieved that she was
still herself--the good part of herself.
He searched her face as he ruffled her hair, then nodded, giving her permission to
go.
Philomene backed up slowly and closed the doors. She turned, pausing with her
back against them. She looked up to see Mr. Ceebo staring at her.
"Dinner will be served soon, Miss Phil. Do you want me to send Louisa up to fix
you a hot bath?"
"That's okay, Mr. Ceebo," she said as she stepped away from the doors. "I’ll
probably just hop in the shower."
“I'll have Louisa lay out a dress for you.”
“No need, I can take care of it.”
"I'm sure you can take care of a lot of things, Miss Phil, but you know how Mr.
Dupree gets about paying people to do nothing.”
"Right.” Philomene smiled. “And thank you." She started to leave.
"No thanks needed, Miss Phil, just lookin' out fo' ya."
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Philomene stopped with her back to him. "Why?" She turned around. "You see
me, don't you? Most people see what they want to see; what I allow them to see or
pretend not to see, but you...You know, and still..."
"I love you like you were my own." Mr. Ceebo stepped to her. "Chere, Lord
knows I wish I knew what happened to yo' mama, but I know she would never leave you.
Chil' your mama used to feel things. You know, sense if something' was coming’, and a
few days 'fore she disappeared, she had felt like something' real bad was about to
happen."
Philomene's eyes widened.
"Yeah, you feel things too, don't you? That's how you’ve been able to keep one
step ahead of a bullet."
"I used to think that she was with me, somehow. Somewhere in the world, she
was thinking of me, but I can't feel her anymore.” Philomene quieted. "She's gone. She's
really gone, and I can't help feeling that…that all hell is about to break loose.”
***
Beau reached into his pants pocket and brought out a cell phone. He took the back
cover off, dislodged the battery, then reached into his shirt pocket and took out a sim card
to replace the one that was already inside. He reassembled the phone and proceeded to
dial.
[Ring.]
[Ring.]
[Click.]
There was breathing on the other end.
"Maryland, Delaware, West Virginia..." Beau waited to be verified. To anyone
listening in, it sounded innocuous, but each state, according to their induction order,
represented a number: 7-1-35, the codename assigned to him.
The voice on the other end spoke. "They predicted rain today."
"You can't trust the weatherman," Beau replied. "There is not a drop in the sky."
"Your garden is in order?"
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"The seeds have been planted."
"You may have need of an exterminator if the weeds get out of hand or
cross-pollination occurs."
"I have someone local, should the need come up." Beau gleaned from the
code-speak that a sleeper had been activated. He waited for more information, but all that
followed was,
"Wishing you a successful harvest."
[Click.]
Beau removed the phone from his ear; he dialed another number.
"Moshi Moshi"
"Your price went up."
A male cursed on the other end. Beau moved the phone away from his ear and
waited for the volley to pass. "Look, I'm not sending you just' a piece of ass, I'm sending
you an investment. On the off chance that my investment becomes collateral damage,
cause this lil' surprise you got planned blows up in yo' face, well...I'm gonna need
something to lessen my loss. If ya know what I mean."
"This was not what we agreed upon."
Beau dropped his accent. "This is not a request. You have until five p.m. to
conduct a wire transfer or you'll be modified and spend the rest of your pathetic life a
quadriplegic."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Threat? No, I'm just stating the facts. Plain and simple. But if you want a
demonstration, how about we start with that latest piece of juvey ass you've been blowing
your money on? I'm sure your horse-faced wife would consider it a favor if parts of that
little bitch were missing."
Long pause.
"That won't be necessary."
Beau slipped back on his good ol' boy routine like a comfortable bathrobe.
"Wonderful! Nice doing business with ya! See ya when the smoke clears."
[Click.]
"Or not!" he said, chuckling under his breath.
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Chapter 4
Dress Rehearsal
As she walked through the kitchen toward the back door, Philomene's eyes darted past the
small room off the pantry. No time for ghosts, she told herself, and continued on. She
paused on the porch, scanning the vast property, and at the edge of the clearing she saw
Tadakai performing a series of karate stances.
She went to him.
The heat caused rivulets of sweat to run down between her breasts, back and
thighs. Philomene hiked her dress further up her thighs, took off her heels and walked the
rest of the way in bare feet.
Tadakai smelled her scent on the wind. He stopped and waited.
When she reached him, Philomene tossed her shoes on the ground and slowly
circled him, her eyes fixated on his tattooed chest. She stopped in front of him just as the
wind made a mess of her curls. Tadakai untied the leather thong from his hair and gently
gathered up her rebellious locks, securing them atop her head. She smiled a wisp of a
smile before descending to her knees, legs tucked beneath her, then back to standing in
one fluid motion.
"Horse stance. Cat stance. Half-moon," Tadakai barked as Philomene gracefully
executed each move with a warrior's precision. Without warning, Tadakai charged,
striking her with his left arm. Philomene jumped into a back lunge and pivoted around to
strike his midsection with a mule kick.
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He quickly recovered and delivered two straight punches and a heel push kick. She
caught his leg midway. Tadakai countered and swung his elbow up, hitting her under the
chin. Philomene careened backward. She spat blood from the corner of her mouth as she
righted herself and assumed a defensive stance.
Tadakai aggressively went on the attack with a downward swing of his arm. She
caught it and used it as leverage to swing and jump up onto his shoulders. She locked her
legs around his throat, bent her torso forward and flipped him. Tadakai landed on his side
with her legs still wrapped around him.
[Clap.]
[Clap.]
Philomene and Tadakai disengaged and stood ready--for anything.
"Bravo Phil, bravo."
"Hello, Junior," Philomene replied evenly. She had been aware of his approach.
On more than one occasion, she had pointed out that his flat feet would alert an army.
"No Phil, really. That was some fancy shit." Junior barely spared Tadakai a glance
as he took in Philomene's disheveled appearance; dress tight, torn at the side with a
generous view of her upper thigh. The circles of sweat outlining her full breasts told that
she wasn’t wearing a bra."But I was wondering, how about giving a good ol' boy a turn?
You know, a little karate versus some swamp fu? You get it. Swamp fu!" said Junior with
a laugh.
He was the only one laughing.
Tadakai took a step toward him.
Reading his mind, Philomene turned toward Tadakai and, with a barely
perceivable tilt of her head, she signaled for him to stay his hand.
Junior picked up on their silent exchange. "Oh, hey there, Toh-doc-eye..." He
purposely mispronounced his name. "You still here? I thought you'd be on your way back
to China by now."
Tadakai's jaw clenched.
"What do you want, Junior?" Philomene said as she stepped in between them.
Junior moved in close, leaned down and murmured, "You."
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Philomene took advantage of his proximity and elbowed him on the side of the
face. She pivoted on her right foot and followed with a blow to his kidney. Unprepared
for the ferocity of the attack, Junior crumpled to the ground in pain. Philomene jumped
up, landing with her right knee in between his legs and in quick-fire succession, struck
his sternum with her elbow and put her fist to his larynx.
Junior contracted, coughing and gulping for air while Philomene stood over him
and surveyed her handiwork. She then turned around and motioned for Tadakai to join
her; as far as she was concerned, the fight was over. Together they walked back toward
the house.
Ring around the Rosie...
She spotted Beau in the distance. He was coming toward them.
Pocket full of posies...
Beau paused; his gaze keyed into something in the distance.
Ashes, ashes, we all fall...
Philomene turned around just in time to see Junior with a pocketknife aiming for
the closest target. She pushed Tadakai to the ground and landed on top of him seconds
before the knife whisked overhead. She scrambled to her feet. Tadakai moved to
intervene, but Beau shook his head and shot him an icy glare.
Junior ran toward her. Philomene dove for the knife, rolling out of the way as
Junior tried to stomp on her. She rolled to a crouch, knife in hand. Junior blindly rushed
toward her, his anger getting the best of him. She feinted to the right, pivoted, then
administered a shallow laceration across his back.
"Enough!" yelled Beau.
Junior threw his arms wide open. "Come on! The party's just getting started."
"I said enough," Beau barked.
With her gaze locked onto Junior, Philomene stood up with her arms raised in a
show of surrender, knife still in hand. She backed away slowly. When she reached
Tadakai, she lowered her arms.
"Fuck!" yelled Junior. "How the hell am I supposed to be more when you won't
let me do more? Our biggest shot is going down and you won't let me in on it. Why her?
Why some nigga bitch and not me, your own flesh and blood?"
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Beau's face slowly turned red from the neck up. One was reminded of how thin a
veneer of civility he wore. He walked toward his son; finger pointed at his chest.
Junior instinctively backed up.
"Because that nigger bitch is everything you're not!" He grabbed him by the
collar. "You just got your ass served on a platter. That's what I need in my pocket, not
some whiny little boy bitching about what his daddy doesn't do." He flung him away in
disgust. "My father was a decorated Ranger. His father reported directly to Hoover.
Where in hell did, I go wrong with you? Now get the fuck outta my face because the only
reason you're still standing is because yo' my flesh and blood, but if you ever disrespect
me again, even that won't save you." Beau then fixed his eyes on Philomene. "Knife."
She threw it.
Beau caught it by the hilt, mid-air. His eyes had never left hers. "Now go and get
cleaned up. Supper's almost ready." He turned to Junior and in an almost civilized tone
said, "You too, Junior. You know how agitated your mama gets when you're late. And
when you're done..." He added, "Go ready the shipment, and cut back on the smack. I
want them willing, not strung out."
Junior walked away but not before giving Philomene a look that conveyed every
ounce of hate he felt.
Beau shook his head and threw the knife, lodging it in the side of the tool shed.
He went to leave but not before giving Philomene one last word. "Get yo' head in the
game, girl."
***
Sissy sat on the back porch swing, partially hidden by the jungle of plants Mrs.
Dupree carefully tended to. She had witnessed the whole thing. She was witness to a lot
of Junior’s antics. Beau had recently sent her and a few of his heavies down to New
Iberia to settle Junior’s debts and to smooth over any hurt feelings over his card counting.
As he stormed ahead of his father, she stood up and sauntered toward the steps. She
leaned on the portico column and tried to get his attention, but he ignored her and
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marched on toward the carriage house. She watched him for a moment before making the
decision to follow him.
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Chapter 5
Close Quarter Standby
Lost in thought, Philomene stared at Beau as he walked away. She couldn't remember a
time when she and Junior didn't fight, and the older they got the more savage the fights
became. No matter how hard Junior tried, he couldn't best her and he hated her for it. Not
that she had much choice in the matter.
For six ordinary years her only worry was not getting underfoot when her mama
cleaned the big house. Never once had Beau given her a second look, but that all changed
the day when the man who brought Beau a satchel of money every week wanted more
than just a hug in exchange for candy he brought.
Like usual, the man was asked to wait in Beau's office and, like usual, she went in
to discover what treats he had brought with him. It was a game, he said. Their fun little
secret and up until then, everything was the way it had always been, until he forced his
tongue in her mouth and put his cold, rough hands up her dress.
She screamed and did the first thing that came to mind. She grabbed the letter
opener from the desk and stabbed him. Now they were both screaming. Beau ran in with
his gun out and yelled at her to leave. She never knew what happened to the man, On the
next delivery day, someone new brought the satchel. Beau said only in the heat of the
moment do you discover the true measure of a man.
That day he had discovered hers.
Tadakai put his hand on her shoulder. Philomene flinched. He quickly dropped it.
She had almost forgotten he was there. When she turned her copper gaze on him, Tadakai
saw that her face was smeared with dirt. He licked his thumb and wiped away a spot.
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Philomene closed her eyes as he trailed his thumb languidly down the side of her
cheek. Gently, he cupped her chin, tilted her mouth upward to meet his and captured her
bottom lip, sucking on it before coaxing her mouth to accept the probing of his tongue.
When his lips left hers, she touched them as if wounded. Philomene said nothing.
She just turned and walked back to the house.
Tadakai donned a blank expression with her every step.
Philomene went through the kitchen and up the back staircase, entering the first
room on the landing. On the large redwood four-poster bed, a dress was laid out as
promised. She closed the door behind her, crossed the room into the bathroom and turned
on the shower.
As she looked in the mirror, weary eyes looked back at her. Willful tendrils had
escaped from her topknot. Philomene untied Tadakai's leather thong and freed the rest of
her hair. Her mind went back to the kiss. He kissed her like one of her marks. Some of
them said they loved her, and she said she loved them in return, but it was part of the job.
Death was her constant companion.
Love makes you weak. Weakness gets you killed.
Philomene looked in the mirror to see her Six-Year-Old Self standing behind her,
eating a lollipop. "Quoting Beau, are we?"
Her Six-Year-Old Self smiled and continued sucking on her lollipop. Better me
than her. You don't want to wake her up, do you?
"No."
Good, then don't do anything stupid.
"Kissing someone is stupid?"
Yeah, if you're not gonna kill 'em.
The room began to fill with steam.
"I thought you were supposed to be sugar and spice and everything nice."
I am, said her Six-Year-Old Self, laughing. This is your head, remember?
When Philomene wiped the condensation from off the mirror, she saw only her
reflection.
***
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Junior towered over Sissy as she laid on the table with her legs draped over his
shoulders. He was unkind in his assault as his hips pummeled into her and although he
stared right at her, it was not her face he saw. Each thrust punctuated the anger he felt
over the knowledge that his father had little faith in him. As his member swelled, he
accelerated his thrusts and when his body was wracked with tiny tremors, he collapsed on
top of her. After catching his breath for a few moments, he got up and headed toward the
bathroom. Junior spoke to Sissy through the open door.
“I know my father told you to watch me but what do you think he would do if he
found out you were fucking me too?”
Sissy pulled up her underwear and adjusted her skirt. "Probably ask me if you
were any good."
Junior flushed the toilet. "Ha-ha. Aren't you a fucking comedian," he said as he
exited. “What else do you do when you aren't cracking bad jokes or snitching to my
father?"
"I'm not a snitch, Junior; I'm a sheep. A sheep who knows when there's a bigger
wolf around. Leave the pretty killer alone. That's one present you don't want to unwrap."
Junior threw her shirt at her. "Get out."
Sissy caught it, unfazed. "Dinner’s at six. Don't be late."
"Get the fuck out now."
Sissy laughed and exited.
***
The dinner bell rang.
Philomene took one last look in the mirror. Smoky powder lined the bottom of her
lids; a metallic sheen glossed her lips. When the bell rang again, she exited her room and
descended the grand staircase to join the family in the expansive dining room. Everyone
had assembled. Tadakai nodded to her to acknowledge her presence. Junior was seated
already.
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"Get up, Junior!" scolded Tite. "A gentleman takes his seat after a lady sits
down."
"I will," he said, making a point to look at Philomene, "when there's a lady
pres...Oww! What the..." Junior turned around to see his father with his hand drawn back.
"What I tell you about getting fresh with yo’ mama?"
Tite shook her head. "That's enough, Beau. I'm sure Junior was just playing.
Right, Junior?"
Junior nodded, afraid to say anything.
Tite smiled and signaled to Louisa to begin serving. "Now sit-down Beau, Mr.
Watanabe..." she said, gesturing to the chair beside Junior. "You too, Phil, honey, I want
to hear all about your trip."
The room was quiet except for the clink of the soup ladle as Louisa, who'd
worked for the Duprees almost as long as Mr. Ceebo, began serving the first course.
"So..." said Tite. "How did everything go?"
Philomene looked to Beau fleetingly before answering, "Great."
"Did you get a chance to do any shopping while you were in the city? I saw online
that Henri Bendel's was having a forty percent off sale."
Philomene smiled and shook her head. Tite was the closest thing she had to a
mother. If she were capable of loving anyone, it would be her. When her mother
disappeared, Tite was there to give what comfort Beau would allow his child soldier, but
Tite was blind to what did not fit in her imagined world. She had the unfailing ability not
to see. "No. Things wrapped up pretty quickly with the...client but if there are any loose
ends to tie up, I'll try to make a trip."
"Do we have to do this?" whined Junior.
The room quieted.
Beau cut his eyes at his son. "What did I just..."
Tite raised her hand and it somehow silenced her fearsome husband. She folded
her napkin, deliberately, and placed it on her lap. "Yes, we do. You have your pretense--I
have mine. And in mine, we are not animals, so yes. We do have to do--this.”
Philomene rose from the table.
Tadakai stood as well.
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Beau kept eating.
Louisa came into the dining room to remove the soup for the next course but
sensing the tension in the room, she turned right back around.
"Don’t leave, Phil, you haven’t finished your dinner yet."
Philomene went over to Tite and kissed her dutifully on the cheek. "I’m not
hungry."
"Will I see you for breakfast?"
"No."
Tite looked at her with knowing eyes. "When will you be back?"
Philomene smiled her almost smile and walked away.
Junior got up to leave too.
"Did I say you could leave?" Tite unfolded her napkin, not sparing her son a
glance.
Junior sat back down, and the table resumed eating in silence.
2
Ms.
Patton is the author of Love & Southern Discomfort, an engaging
musical about an old-money family, told through the prism of love
lost, addiction, mental illness, and a harrowing family secret.
Monica toured with the Broadway 2nd National tour of The Book of
Mormon since its inception in 2012 (she was the only cast member to
be in the company from day one until it closed in 2020.) Ms. Patton
has worked with such notables as Jesse Norman, Diahann Carroll, and
Freda Payne. She covered Eartha Kitt as the Fairy Godmother in
Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella and sang opposite Jon Secada as
the Narrator in the National Tour of Joseph and the Amazing
Technicolor Dreamcoat.
$25
Amazon gift card – 3 winners!
#CoverReveal Tour with #Giveaway
#neogeisha #thriller #steamy #monicalpatton
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