Bleu, Grass, Bourbon Read online

  “I put in for a transfer to Louisville,” Neary told him. “It came through before we headed out on this mission. I took the assignment.”

  “Louisville? You leaving us man?” Rogers asked in disbelief.

  “Yep,” Isiah told him, throwing the bullet-ridden vest on Agent Ramos’ desk. “All that vacation time I’ve got saved up, I’m going to use three weeks of it to move and get a new place closer to my lady.”

  “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Rogers said, shocked that he shared a life with Isiah Neary yet knew so little about the man.

  “That’s nothing,” he offered, “I’m going to be a dad, too.”

  “No kidding!” Rogers said. “Congrats, Neary.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” he said, looking out the window at the truckload of felons in the back of the paddy wagon. His stomach roiled as he thought about spending his last day in the employ of the Special Unit with these felonious men. Never in his life had he ditched or bailed on his job, but today, he wanted no part of any of it. “Rogers, I will help you unload the men, then I’m going to get checked out and go home.”

  “Understood,” Rogers said, watching his partner’s shoulders. In some ways, Rogers envied the man, but unlike Neary, he was an action junkie. He wouldn’t leave the action for a desk job. “Hey Neary, let me know where you land.”

  “Will do,” Isiah said as he opened the back door of the wagon and loaded out the prisoners with the help of the beta team that had stayed back in the office. Three hours later, he was out of the building. A light feeling hit his feet when he double- checked the paperwork he had left on Ramos’ desk. In the morning, he would leave for Louisville to look at the houses Gabriel had chosen that would be the start of his new life as Assistant Director of Operations for the Louisville office of the ATF. But first, he needed a hot shower, a shot of Bourbon, and a good night’s rest in his own bed.

  In the morning, he would call his lady, make a plan, and move forward. Everything would look better in the morning. At least that’s what he hoped.

  ISIAH WOKE TO HIS HOUSE phone, his cell phone, and tablet all ringing insistently. Footage of last night’s raid had hit the news outlets with an unfortunate image of him getting shot in the chest going viral over the internet. He sent one text message to his family with an image of his smiling face sitting at his kitchen table. Everyone would recognize the background and know he was unharmed. The other calls he ignored.

  The call from Ramos he had to take. The man was not happy with him, but Isiah didn’t care. He held the phone for the first five minutes of the supervisor’s yelling obscenities but interrupted the man’s rant in two words.

  “She’s pregnant,” Isiah said.

  “Who’s pregnant?” Ramos shouted.

  “My lady love, which is why I’m leaving the team and taking a desk job,” Isiah said. “My judgment is compromised and I am no longer an asset. I was distracted and got shot—luckily for me it wasn’t fatal—but my days on the team have come to an end. Allow me to leave gracefully and on my own terms.”

  “Well, when you put it like that,” Ramos said.

  “It’s like that,” Isiah told him, exhaling into the receiver, “I put in for three weeks of vacation. There’s nothing on my desk. My service piece goes with me. I cleaned my rifle and turned in all of my equipment last night.”

  “So Neary, you have just decided to walk away with not so much as an ‘up yours’,” Ramos said, concerned that he was losing the best agent on the team.

  “Up yours, Agent Ramos. Take care of yourself and the guys,” Isiah said to his boss. “Thanks for everything.”

  He hung up. He had nothing left to say to the man and didn’t want a going away party, cigars distributed, or questions into his private life. He kept it private for a reason. However, he needed to get moving. A conversation was overdue with a very pissed off woman who wanted to discuss their future.

  The phone rang again, but this time it was his brother Gabriel. This call he would take. His brother was his rock, and he secretly believed it was Gabriel’s prayers that may have stopped the bullets from ending his life.

  “Hey,” he said into the phone.

  “Hey back,” Gabriel said. “Saw the news.”

  “Figured you did,” Isiah replied. “You got my text?”

  “Yeah, I see you are okay,” he said to the youngest Neary. “Found that farmhouse in Louisville you wanted. Got it cheap, but I want my money back. Today.”

  “How much I owe you?”

  “Forty,” Gabriel said. “It needs loads of TLC, but it has a large barn, horse stables, and a good-sized pond filled with catfish. The homestead may need to be gutted down to the studs. The place was a meth house.”

  “Great,” Isiah said.

  “It has good bones, three bedrooms upstairs, one downstairs master—all appear to be master suites—with a water closet on the first floor. You are going to love the large kitchen and the formal dining room. Bleu, it has about ten acres of pretty Kentucky bluegrass. When I saw it, I knew it would be perfect. I bought it last week,” Gabriel told him.

  “In my name or yours?” Isiah wanted to know.

  “Our company,” Gabriel told him. “The farm is in Louisville, close enough to your new office, but not too far from her offices.”

  “Thanks,” Isiah said. “You got some addresses for me?”

  “Her office, home, and the house. I sent them via email,” Gabriel said. “I mailed the keys to the place to you, so they should be in the mailbox.”

  Isiah thumbed through the mail he’d brought in from the mailbox last night, locating the bubble envelope from his brother. He tore open the wrapper to find the keys and photo of the two-story white farmhouse trimmed in green. The small front porch caught his eye, along with the large windows which would provide loads of light.

  “I like it,” he said finally.

  “Thought you would. I look forward to coming down to do some fishing,” Gabriel said.

  “Screw that, I may need you to come down and help me get it in shape,” Isiah told him. Although he had a crew in London that helped him renovate properties, the drive between the two cities was only two and a half hours. The possibility of bringing his team in for a weekend sounded promising.

  “You have this all under control, but Bleu, I await the invite to the wedding,” Gabriel said laughing.

  “As long as you aren’t the one marrying us, it’s a deal,” Gabriel said before ending the call with his brother. I need to pack for a week, take some tools and of course Big Ben, my monster truck. He grinned at the thought of DeShondra seeing the monster truck parked in the driveway of her suburban home. Although he promised he’d call when he got back, he was opting instead to have the conversation in person.

  A laundry list of matters he didn’t like discussing popped into his head, marriage was one, his truck was another, and his feelings. Either he liked some shit or he didn’t. He didn’t do gray. However, he ruefully admitted that everything about his relationship with DeShondra Leman was gray.

  “Not after today it won’t be,” he spoke softly and loaded up his overnight bag then grabbed his keys. First, he needed to check out this new home, bring in the team, and then go by the office of Leman Realty and Brokerage. Maybe he would take his lady out to lunch.

  Chapter 2 – Crewing up the Fat

  The preparation for the weekend had taken longer than Isiah had anticipated, making him grateful he’d called the crew first and got them on the road. It was a six-man company with him as the boss, Gabriel as the silent partner who purchased the properties, and a whole heap of luck to do what they did for a living. The crew, as he liked to call them, did it for a living. He only supervised. Today, he felt like he needed someone to supervise him.

  He packed his best suit, uncertain why, and his good shoes. He added black trousers and a dress shirt with tie, along with his good khakis, three polo shirts, casual shoes, sexy underwear, his house slippers, three pair of lounge pants, goo
d jeans, raggedy jeans, and two bottles of bourbon.

  “Damn man, are you planning to stay for the weekend or move in with the woman?” he asked aloud, looking at the stuffed suitcase which he had to upsize to in order to hold the haul he was bringing. In his heart, he didn’t plan to come back to London to get much other than his bourbon collection, the rest of his clothing, and the items in his barn. The horses would be moved later, along with the mowers and heavy equipment. Isiah was grateful that Gabriel had gotten the property cheap since the move would be expensive. He prayed that it could be a quick flip and he would be in the home before his vacation ended and he started his new job. The other items he would move on the weekends, but the time ahead was uncertain at this point. Loaded, gassed up and ready to roll, he pointed the nose of Big Ben, his monster truck, towards Louisville with the first stop planned at the new house.

  The drive went without a hitch, and he pulled up to the farmhouse to see Buster’s old white pickup. It was an ongoing joke between them that the old truck used to be a dog catcher’s paddy wagon, but after loads of bleach, the compartments held tools of the trade for Buster, who was one of the best contractors he’d ever had the pleasure of working with. Too bad the man had a felony charge against him, as did the rest of his crew. Second chances didn’t come often, but the Bleu’s Crew were hardworking men who had paid their debts to society. Unfortunately, the creditors didn’t want their return business. No one would hire any of the men and by accident, he came across Buster at a home improvement store when he was working on a few upgrades for his barn.

  “You don’t want to use that for bracing,” Buster told him. “I mean if that’s why you are buying those 2x8’s.”

  Isiah, suspicious of the man, asked, “How did you know that is what I was going to use them for?”

  Buster scanned his cart, pointing out the items Isiah planned to purchase, commenting and providing advice.

  “I could use some help on the project if you are interested,” Isiah offered.

  “As long as I get paid,” Buster said.

  “Fair wages for good work,” Isiah said.

  “Works for me,” Buster replied, which is how the man came to work for Isiah. Three years and 15 flips on raggedy properties later and the company had grown from three to eight with a ragtag bunch of former felons who were good at what they did. Isiah provided them with honest work and they in turn provided for their families.

  Scooter, the electrician, arrived next, nodding his head at Buster and Isiah while looking the house. Bubba and Ray-Ray drove up, followed by Pookie Jenkins and June Bug McCaffey, a Hispanic man with an Irish name. Drywall and insulation belonged to Bubba. Floors, painting, and decorative trim was Ray-Ray’s specialty. Pookie, a large black man in a floral shirt, pink pants, and green cowboy boots, handled the design work. June Bug took care of the landscaping and grass.

  “Here she is boys, my new home,” he said waiting for a reaction.

  “Hold the hell up, you moving here?” Ray-Ray asked. “What about us?”

  “Guys, there is plenty of work here and in between London. I took a new position, kind of a promotion. It’s a desk job that starts in three weeks,” he told them.

  “You with a desk job? Well slap my ass and buy me flowers,” Pookie chided, walking up on the porch.

  “As much as I know you’d like that sort of thing, this is where I am going to raise my son,” Isiah said, suddenly feeling confident the baby was a boy.

  “Who got drunk and fucked you with unprotected sex?” Bubba asked with his eyebrows raised high.

  “Your mother did once, but I had to leave her alone because your sister was better,” Isiah added.

  “Man, that shit ain’t funny! I told my Momma to stop hitting on you. I don’t know what she sees in you anyway,” Bubba said defensively.

  “Evidently, the same thing your sister saw,” Isiah said without a smile. “Enough chit chat. Let’s take a look at this old girl so we can get to work.”

  The jangling keys on the Georgia Bulldog keychain rattled as Isiah stuck the key in the lock, and opening the front door, was hit in the face with a familiar smell of burnt Styrofoam. Worn out furniture lay scattered about the rooms as the crew walked through the first floor of the home.

  “This is a big ass house,” Pookie said, peering in the room off the foyer. “This would make a great library or an office. I can see some built-in bookcases and a nice desk, and that fireplace is to die for!”

  “Let’s get some windows open ASAP so we don’t die from inhaling this crap,” Buster said. “We are going to have to take this one down to the studs to get all of those fumes out of the drywall and ceilings. You can’t bring a child up in a place loaded with meth in the walls.”

  Buster took the lead through the house, coming through the foyer which emptied into a 30 x 20 great room. The separate dining room with two large windows was a nice touch, and the kitchen held a good-sized island and a separate pantry. Isiah went to the mudroom and spotted the deck on the back of the house. Thus far, he liked what he was seeing.

  “Hey Bleu! There is a master suite down here off the great room with a full bath. Looks like they left the bath water in the tub,” Ray-Ray called out. “Yuck, they left something else in here too!”

  “I’m headed upstairs,” Isiah called out, as he led the way up the staircase and fell in love with the old house. The master suite was a dream with a large walk-in closet, two linen closets, a bathtub, separate his and her sinks, and a stand-up shower.

  Across the hall were two bedrooms. Pookie was standing in the first one, but as he made his way down the hall to the second, he gasped, slapped himself on the ass and started to dance. Isiah knew what that meant, he’d found something good.

  “What ya seeing, Pookie?” he asked.

  “The first bedroom is where we will make the nursery since it is across the hall from the master, but this bedroom here is perfect for a child,” he said, pointing to the walk-in closet. “There is a bonus room in the back of that closet which would make the perfect playroom. Little Beard Baby could have a clean bedroom, and there is a separate room for all the monster trucks you’re going to buy him.”

  “I like,” Isiah told him.

  “Yeah, but you are really going to like this,” Pookie said, presenting him the bonus room. “This is the perfect place for your bourbon collection. I am thinking four leather chairs, a manly rug, some vents for your cigars, and wham – instant man cave of coolness.”

  “Works for me,” Isiah said.

  “Did you notice the laundry room is up here as well? That is going to work well for your lady,” Pookie said, giving him the side eye. “When do we meet her?”

  “Soon,” Isiah said, yelling down the stairwell. “Everyone, let’s pow-wow in the kitchen.”

  Heavy boots clunked like a marching army coming from every direction in the house as the men all filed into the kitchen. Normally, he would ask Pookie to draw up blueprints, but the house was perfect as it stood. All it needed was his best designer’s touches, and the house would fall in line, but first, he needed to see DeShondra’s style and taste before Pookie added paint colors and touches.

  “Guys, I have an all-in budget of $125, but I think we can come in under that total. That also include moving all the equipment, horses, and stuff at my place in London. The drywall comes out as well as all the insulation, Bubba,” Isiah said. “Ray-Ray, these floors need to be stripped, sanded, and refinished. Pookie, I need to see the plan before you start to choose colors and themes and to see my lady’s place to get a taste of her style. Scooter, the power is on, so let’s get a workup of what we will need for electrical, heating, cooling and the like. And finally, Buster, I want all of these windows gone and replaced with some energy efficient ones.”

  “Boss, you gonna want solar panels?” Scooter wanted to know.

  “I would love them,” he said. “Can we make this happen, men? This will be the home that I raise my children in.”

  �
�What’s gonna happen to the house you have now?” June Bug asked.

  “My dad is retiring later this year,” Isiah said. “Zeke is living in Georgia now and Gabe is married, so they will want to come back to the house. It is mid-way between all of their kids.”

  June Bug was staring out the window at the yard. The grass needed help and all the shrubs appeared to be bug infested. There were a few fruit trees which he could render to a healthy state in a year or two, but it was going to be a big job. “Bleu, can you find out what kind of plants she likes so I can get started on the yard?”

  “Will do,” Isiah added. “You guys can get started. All the utilities are on, and I’m headed over to meet her for lunch. Pookie, stay on the ready. I will call you later to come over to see her house and get a feel for what, how, and who she is.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait!” Pookie said, clapping his hands gleefully. “She must be one tough cookie to wrangle a big bear like you.”

  “You don’t even know the half,” he told them as they all stared at him in wonder. “Lunch is on me, be back in a few hours.”

  He laid several bills on the counter as he made his way out the back door, loving the open field and the screened in back porch which leads out to the grill deck. This was living. Isiah only hoped that DeShondra would feel the same way.

  THE ONLY THING DESHONDRA Leman had been feeling for the past 10 days was sick to her stomach. It didn’t matter what she ate, none of it stayed down. To make matters worse, she still hadn’t heard from Isiah and soon she would start to show. It had been nearly three months since they hooked up in Las Vegas, but her twice a month weekend jaunts to London had become a redeeming quality for her sanity. Today, she was about to lose it if her assistant director walked into her office one more time with a dumb ass question.

  “Isiah, where are you?” she said looking at her phone.

  In front of the one-story office building, the large monster truck pulled into space, and Isiah Neary climbed down, making his way into the offices of Leman Realty. The office was an old department store, updated and modified to fit the needs of DeShondra’s real estate business. The older building, located in an older part of town, which he could easily see had gone downhill but was on its way back up. Many of the For Sale signs on the properties held the Leman logo, and she must have been trying to bring the neighborhood back up. It must be working. He spotted several red stickers marked “Sold” on a great number of signs.