Layers of the past, p.1
Layers of the Past, page 1
Layers of The Past
By AlTonya Washington
Copyright 2014 AlTonya Washington
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To My Patient, Yet Insatiable Readers,
You Asked For This- Hope You’re Ready For
Where It Takes You
~PROLOGUE~
Long Beach, California~ 2001
“That him?” Huron Base fixed his jade stare on the slender man across the store-front street. His expression was assessing as though he were taking inventory.
The tall, stout young man standing next to Huron stepped out from the shade of the burgundy shop canopy to take a closer look across the street. “Yeah…” he sneered the word, his thin lips curling up to partially bare his teeth. “That’s the snitch muthafucka, alright.”
Grinning, Huron eased his sunglasses back in place. “Gettin’ a little swole about it, huh man? Not like the guy had you sent up to Folsom or some shit.”
Theodore Sturgess rolled his eyes. “Trust me when I say my old man’s wrath is worse than Folsom could ever be.”
“Tell me again what kickin’ this guy’s ass is gonna solve?” Huron continued to study the man who strolled the sidewalk browsing merchant wares with the woman he held hands with.
“It’ll solve a lot.”
“A lot, huh?” Huron smirked. “All but putting you among the employed again. Don’t sound like you’ll get your job back either way.”
Theodore gave an impatient snort. “Just my dad tryin’ to be hard for a minute. I’ll get it back but I want that big-mouth nigga to pay for some of it, alright?”
Bowing his head then, Huron chuckled over his friend’s way of neglecting any wrongdoing on his own end. “And tell me why I need to be the one to fight this fool?”
Theodore finally pulled his steady hazel gaze away from his enemy across the street and studied Huron in disbelief. “Are you shittin’ me, man? You’re Huron Base,” he grunted out a laugh. “Hell, man you even named yourself. You’re your own badass entity. Nobody without colors got as much juice as you,” he referred to his friend’s lack of gang affiliation.
“Cats gonna think twice when they find out you got my back,” Theodore nodded, looking pleased with himself, “not just personal-like friends and shit- but when it comes to handlin’ business. Yeah,” he shot the cuffs of the gray polo shirt he wore, “they gonna think twice ‘bout snitching on my business to my pops or anybody else.”
“Hmph,” Huron’s mouth curved down in an impressed smile. “You surprise me, Thee. Didn’t know you had sense enough to strategize that deep.”
Theodore grinned, but the gesture showed signs of wear. “I know this ain’t your usual kind of job no more, B. ‘Preciate it.”
Huron’s grin brought a more vibrant sparkle to his emerald gaze behind the shades. “We go back,” he said and clapped the other man’s shoulder.
“All the way back,” Theodore added, reciprocating the shoulder clap.
“So lemme go teach this fool a lesson,” Huron nudged Theodore’s elbow with his own. “Been a while since I gave these a workout,” he flexed his fingers before clenching them into two massive fists.
Theodore whistled to relay being impressed. “Thanks for lookin’ out, man.”
Huron’s mouth tightened grimly so infinitesimally that it may have gone unnoticed. “Goin’ way back or not, you’ll owe me for this.” He looked to Theodore over the tops of his sunglasses. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah man, cool,” Theodore nodded. Everyone knew that his old friend did nothing for free. Huron Base always collected. One would do well to accept the fact that payment would be collected in one way or another.
“B,” Theodore reached for Huron’s arm when he looked ready to proceed. “I know that this is gonna cost me, so I want that punk bitch to remember this. Years from now when he’s out livin’ his goody two shoes life, I want him to remember this and know I was the one he should’ve never crossed.”
Huron grinned, reaching into a back jean’s pocket for the gloves there. “Never thought you liked workin’ for Mr. Frank’s finance company so much.”
Theodore returned the grin. “Just make him hurt.”
Again, Huron flexed his fingers. Spreading them wide, he inserted them into the black leather gloves he’d taken from his pocket. “That’s a guarantee,” he promised.
~1~
Kaanapali, Maui~13 years later…
Kamari Grade held the slim bottle of sunscreen to her chest as though it were a priceless artifact. “You’re not serious,” her lush brown gaze was wide and unwavering while she gawked at the woman seated a few feet away.
“Why do you think that?” Eliza Breck’s thick blonde mane whipped wildly about her face thanks to a rejuvenating breeze.
Kam laughed at her friend’s playfully stunned expression. “We’re in Hawaii, remember? Top destination of sun worshipers around the world.”
Eliza glanced across her shoulder and then leaned close to Kam as if she were about to impart with a guarded secret. “We sun worshipers only step out to pay homage when we need to- it isn’t the most symbiotic relationship.”
“Ah…” Still clutching the bottle, Kam reclined on the cushioned, waterproof lounge and tried to make sense of her friend’s outlook. Quickly, she skimmed Eliza’s already tanned skin. “So you’re saying that you’ve come here to Maui where sun is practically pouring in along our own private little stretch of beach and you don’t intend to pay even a little homage?”
Eliza shrugged, a prim yet teasing smile coming to her mouth. Leaning back into the lounge’s pearl gray cushioning then too, she closed her eyes. “Cousteau appreciates me being the same tone all over. I’d like to keep myself that way.”
“Cousteau appreciates, huh?” Kamari’s expression harbored a bit more animation then. “And I guess when it comes to knowing whether you’re the same tone all over, he’d know better than anyone, right?”
Eliza flushed, giving her tan a richer appearance. “Kam, that man has seen parts of me that I’ve never and will never see.”
“I got it!” Kam laughed, but still held the bottle out of Eliza’s grasp when she reached for it. “Not so fast...just what are you willing to do for this bottle?”
“Mmm Kam…” Eliza gave a decadent stretch and naughty smile. “I’ve done things during the last two weeks that have damn well earned me that bottle of sunscreen.”
Kamari’s laughter resurfaced. “Do tell!” She pushed up from the lounge.
“Don’t play,” Eliza ordered.
“Let’s see how far you’re willing to go!” Kam sprinted backwards away from the lounge area set along the shore. She turned toward the sea and looked back to see if her friend would give chase. She had.
Laughing wildly and taunting with devilish intent, Kam led Eliza on a merry chase along the beach until they were splashing in the foamy waves of the Pacific.
~~~
Huron Base arrived out on the massive stone lanai that faced the staggering beauty of sand, sky and ocean. For a moment, he allowed himself to dwell in a state of captivation. The sea never failed to do that and he appreciated that he could be so affected.
Huron headed over to a tall, sterling silver food cart that teemed with an array of treats. The three-tiered device held diverse offerings of fruit on the bottom tier with muffins, Danish and croissants in the middle. The level was fashioned with a mechanism to help the food maintain its fresh-baked warmth.
The top tier was dedicated to beverages. Huron bypassed the mixed offerings of teas and coffees and helped himself to a glass of apple juice. Glass in hand, he went to lean against one of the stone columns that supported the high ceiling roof which was constructed of the same rust-colored stone as the columns.
Huron grinned suddenly, noticing the man who relaxed on one of the four maplewood lounges across the patio. He cleared his throat.
“Wasn’t it you who said that sleeping ‘til four p.m. was on the menu everyday this week?” Huron called, walking toward the lounge area.
Cousteau Morgan’s grin held the same roughish undertones as his friend’s. “Any man would happily pass on sleep to enjoy this view.”
“Agreed,” Huron’s opinion then had more to do with the lush environment. “No place like Hawaii,” he sighed, settling to a lounge.
Cousteau arched a long, sleek brow in his old friend’s direction and served up a half shrug. “Hawaii’s got beauty- true. But right now, it’s running a very distant second to that.”
Huron tracked his brilliant stare in the direction Cousteau nodded and he released a slow whistle in response. Gaze fixed on the shore, he set his juice glass to the low polished maple table that stood between the lounges. He didn’t care if the glass made it to the table’s square surface or not.
Delighted as well, Cousteau followed Huron’s whistle with a chuckle. “That was exactly my reaction,” he shared.
Reclining on his lounge, Huron stared transfixed by the sight of the two beauties frolicking amidst the crashing early morning waves. He was riveted on Kamari and;
at once, felt the tell-tale tightening below his waist. He muttered a curse. He’d just let her out of bed an hour ago after she’d nourished his 6am erection with a dose of her body.
The sight of her bouncing around and being doused by foamy currents of water, had his cock craving another healthy dose.
Cousteau, his turquoise stare then a passion-darkened cobalt, was focused on Eliza. “Count Elly and me out of any excursions today, will you? Takin’ her back to bed when she’s done with her playdate.”
“Not a problem,” Huron’s response came out in a rumble. “Kam’s day will turn out the same.”
The men at last traded glances and shortly after the warm soft roar of male laughter lifted between them. Cousteau curbed his laughter on a playful groan and eased a leg off the lounge. The sole of a leather sandal hit the lanai’s rose blush marble flooring with a resounding slap and he buried the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“She’s gonna kill me, B. She’s gonna kill me and I can’t wait to let her.”
“Hell man, is there a better way to go?” Huron’s words were caught up in laughter.
“Hmph no,” Cousteau seemed to sober a little. “No there isn’t.”
Following the intense Las Vegas meeting with former business associates Dutch and Sandra Breslin, Huron and Kamari set off to their Hawaii destination. The villa Huron kept in Kaanapali, Maui was a breathtaking work of art. Kam had wanted to explore every inch of the 10,000 square foot dwelling the moment they’d arrived.
The only room Huron was interested in was the bedroom suite of which there were eight. The couple spent four days alone before Kam noted that the place was too remarkable to enjoy on their own. Huron disagreed, but loved Kam’s idea of inviting Cousteau and Eliza to share it with them. The couples had delighted in ten exquisite days at the retreat before ever venturing out to enjoy the rest of what the area had to offer.
“We don’t deserve this, B,” Cousteau’s stare rivaled the ocean for vividness as it fixed once more upon the shore. Eliza stood near her lounge talking with Kam while they toweled off from their romp.
“Agreed, “ Huron reached for his juice glass. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t feel guilty enough to talk myself out of enjoying every bit of it.”
“Hell, I don’t either,” Cousteau could only manage half a smile though.
Huron pulled his eyes away from the beauty along the shore and back to his old friend. “What’s up with the long face, Cous?”
“Men like us shouldn’t count on enjoying this kind of ...goodness for long.” Agitation registered when Cousteau heard the laugh Huron gave.
“I think that’s my line,” Huron teased, giving a bewildered shake of his head. “What the fuck, Cous? You second guessing everything you told Eliza?”
“Just what do you think that was?” Cousteau leaned forward on his lounge and eyed his friend curiously. “About my part in uncovering that story on her mom? That was nothing.”
Instant realization stirred in Huron’s eyes then and he shook his head more determinedly. “That’s all there is.”
“You know that’s not true-”
“Then it’s all that matters.”
“It’s not even half of what matters.”
“Fuck Cous, what good does all the rest serve?” Huron’s tone was a low growl then, impatience with his friend heightened. “It was all in another life- one that plays no part in who you are now.”
Cousteau’s laughter bellowed then. “Are you kidding? It has everything to do with it. Have you forgotten how I managed to uncover the dirt I had on Jessica Breck?”
Huron waved off the query involving Eliza’s mother. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“B-”
“You know what I mean.”
“Shit,” Cousteau rested his elbows to his knees and used one hand to drag back the wealth of maple brown waves that tumbled into his eyes. “All I know is that the past- recent or long past- has a way of working itself into the present. You don’t believe that, ask Jessica Breck.”
Huron studied the juice in his glass. “Jessica was a grown woman who made her own decisions.”
“Decisions that involved my family.” Cousteau worked his fingers over the bridge of his aquiline nose. “I spent so much time talking to El about her people, I never got around to my own.”
“And what do you think telling her any of that will solve?” Huron sat up a bit on his lounge. “All it’ll do is make her worry more about her mother.”
That much was true Cousteau realized. Jessica Breck was then a guest of the county. The socialite had admitted to the murder of her nephew in an attempt to hide damning proof of her...work in the porn industry.
“I believe what I have to say could do just the opposite since the rest of it involves the very thing her mother won’t share. It’s the very thing that could serve as Jessica Breck’s very own, gold-embossed get out of jail free card.”
~~~
Las Vegas, Nevada~
Jeffrey Kears stood and began to shuffle a sheaf of papers back into the silver briefcase he’d brought with him into the rather ostentatious penthouse office.
“I think it’s best if I wasn’t part of the rest of this conversation,” Kears rapidly secured the locks on his case.
“Aw, sit on down Jeff,” Dutch Breslin’s hearty chuckle resounded in reaction to his attorney’s unease. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ but shootin’ the breeze um... hypothesizin’- that’s the word.”
Jeff Kears smiled, but continued to gather his belongings from the silver encased glass table that sat between red overstuffed leather sofas. “Understood Dutch, but I really need to be going.”
“Jeff?” Sandra Breslin’s voice coasted out like a fine brandy. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to get Huron to change his mind?”
Weeks prior, Huron Base had paid a special visit to the Breslins where he informed them that he was giving up his interest in Fine Lines Studios. Huron made the couple a more than generous offer to divest himself of any ties to the adult film company.
Given the turn of events involving Jessica Breck’s murder of Simon Breck, the Breslins were rather curious about the timing. There was also the matter of the woman Huron was seeing- a woman who was in the business of uncovering secrets.
“I’d advise against trying to change his mind,” Jeff’s tight smile turned into a bonafide grimace. “Huron Base isn’t a man who takes kindly to his decisions being questioned.” He gave his clients the benefit of a stern gaze then. “Base’s offer for cutting his monetary ties is far more than he initially put in. You’re coming out on top in this.”
Dutch snorted something akin to a harsh laugh. “Only thing better than havin’ Base money is Base involvement- even silent involvement is gold.”
Jeff smiled as though he’d expected the outlook from his client and friend. “Listen Dutch, you don’t want to go down this road.”
“I didn’t get where I am by not playin’ every card in my hand.”
Jeff nodded, familiar with the man’s undying pride. “As a gambler, you should know some cards are better if held or left in the deck altogether.”
A throat cleared from someone unseen. “Are you two going to trade card anthologies all day? If so, we can continue with more pressing matters later,” the hidden voice chimed in.
Jeff made a faster attempt at shoving his two phones into his suitcoat pockets then. “I’ll be saying ‘goodbye’ to you folks. Dutch?” he fixed the man with a cautionary look. “Think about what I said.”
The door closed behind Jeff with a soft thud.
“Is that the sound of the upstanding attorney taking his leave?”
“He’s gone,” Dutch spoke to the triangular speaker box on the leather encased glass desk he sat behind.
“Good to hear. Now...when would you like it done?”
“Dutch?” Sandra Breslin’s usually cool demeanor betrayed signs of disturbance. “Sweetheart, are you sure this is the only way?” She inched closer to the sofa cushions she clutched.
Dutch Breslin’s sigh echoed the one from the speaker then. The emerging voice held a gruff edge when it resounded from the box that time.
