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Secrets

Eric Burbridge

    Who hasn’t dropped their phone and the back popped off? But I dropped mine and the back, battery and the simcard popped out. The card slipped in a crack between two metal storage cabinets. When I worked it out with my fingertips I got a glimpse of wiring connected to what appeared to be blasting caps.
    It couldn’t be! It must be a mistake.
    I got the flashlight on top of the cabinet behind the containers of hair tint. I checked and saw several brick sized packages wrapped in brown paper with faded letters. The only letter I made out was C, the rest were numbers. It couldn’t be C4. No way! I needed brownish red hair color and I find plastic explosives. I slid open the top cabinet drawer and there was the color, why didn’t I do that first? I hurried back to my station. I felt Rahal’s eyes follow me when I came from the storage room. Don’t let your imagination run away with you, Winston. “Sorry, Ann, I had to find the ingredients. This is a special color; you’ve made an excellent choice.” My fingers switched to expert mode. I dabbed sections of hair with the brush and finished the ends. My mind drifted to what I saw or didn’t see. After 9/11 at one time or another all Arabs and Muslims were under scrutiny; a given. Why would Abbas Rahal ruin the most successful beauty salon in Hillside Park? The females loved his six foot frame with a rock solid build and perfectly trimmed beard. His political connections granted him a special building permit, against his competitor’s wishes, that enabled him to double the amount of allowable work stations. Was he selling drugs or munitions?
    Maybe I made a mistake.
    Yeah, that’s it.
    He better not be a jihadist. I have it good here; he charged the others fifty percent of their take and twenty five from me. I do have the prettiest clientele and they tipped well.
    Ann sat under the dryer and crossed her beautiful legs and her skirt traveled half way up her thighs. Another reason why giving this up for terrorism would be foolish. Two of the most beautiful Arab women I’ve ever seen Abiba and Baka, are the epitome of valuable employees. Both have excellent skills and creativity and magnetic personalities. People pour out their hearts to them like they were bartenders. Rahal watches over them, but he’s not possessive. Why do that, it didn’t stop the flirtations from both sexes?
    I wondered did he sense how much I care for Baka. I let her know in my special way, since she knows I’m bisexual that might not sit well with her. Islam and the like. I didn’t realize it was noon until I heard the midday old school mix on the radio. Where are Baka and Abiba? I walked to the front desk. “My girlfriends got clients today?” Rahal nodded and kept working on the computer. Ann twirled the mirror to study every angle of her hair. That twenty five dollar tip said it all. The sun broke through and brightened the day. Lunchtime, I ordered the hamburger special at Johnny’s and thought about my discovery. I sat by the window in the cafeteria size restaurant which is rare and the shop beauties pulled up in a cab. Abiba was six months pregnant, but she looked like any minute now and seeing her from behind you couldn’t tell. They wore denim jeans and silk blouses, but wore different Hijab’s daily. I hope they weren’t involved in anything stupid. But, there is one sure way to find out.
    I’m a voyeur.
    I’m tech savvy with the latest equipment I’ve never been discovered. I hard wired my newest camera system to my newest neighbor below me. She’s in her mid-20s, attractive, educated and her girlfriends who are equally attractive are into bestiality. Their lucky dog gets more pussy than a lot of guys. It’s disgusting. But, I’ll keep the cutie’s secret, secret. My motto: Do no harm and enjoy. The couples across the hall rate eight out of ten on the BDSM scene.
    God, I love my building!
    I did a mental inventory of my cameras. I wouldn’t have time to hard wire it and the best wireless would need charging weekly. Everybody goes in the storage room at least once a day and I’ll get a chance to install it with no suspicion. A client due after lunch cancelled and that gave me the time to go home and get caught up on the latest freak shows.
    I pulled back the gate of the antiquated elevator and the aroma of frying chicken filled the hallway. Dollie was at it again. She made the best chicken. What new secrets will my laptop reveal? I cleaned up the remnants of last night’s gathering of friends and dropped the trash in the shoot. I hit the button and brought the ceiling fan to life. I picked the best camera system for Rahal’s. With that taken care of I opened my computer to a split screen. One side was blank and the other my newest neighbor mounted her man and rode him like crazy. She screamed and we all came together. I panted for several minutes until my heart slowed to normal. He looked good in action and I planned on meeting him. Now, time to clean up and back to work I go.
*
    A wave of fatigue hit me when I walked in the shop, two walk-ins. I’m thankful, but it wasn’t expected. Both women wore streaked gray styles that needed touchups. Good, that’ll give me time in the storage area to mix colors and install the surveillance apparatus. I scanned the shelves for an ideal spot. Good, found it. I checked outside Abiba waddled down the hall to the break area. “Winston, I got chicken nuggets, want some?”
    “No thanks, I’m mixing some color.” I pushed over a small step ladder and put the small plastic box on the dusty shelf. I pushed it back to assure it wouldn’t be seen if the box was bumped. Satisfied with the location I returned to my clients. What I call my magic wand glides through Helen’s hair with ease and it falls into place stroke after stroke. “You like that Miss Helen?” I twirled the mirror while she admired my work.
    “Lovely as usual, Mr. Winston.” She gave me a peck on both cheeks. Helen was a big curvy woman who visited the shop when she came in from her native Norway. Today I was bold and returned her custom of endearment with a kiss on the lips. She blushed and slipped me a fifty. I love it!
    Rahal walked over, “I saw that.” We laughed and our eyes followed the Norwegian beauty out the door. “What does Selena want?”
    “A wash and style.” I walked the tall slim model over to the shampoo bowl.
    “When you put her under the dryer come to the storage room, I need help moving those old cabinets.” He said. I nodded. That answered the question. He had to have moved the wires and explosives. When I walked in Rahall inspected the chemical containers on the top of the cabinets. “This stuff is close to the expiration date. These two cabinets have been here since I rented this place. It used to be an auto parts store.” He opened the doors. “Look at this shit.” He pulled what looked like a generator with wires and metal looking cylinders or connectors or something.
    That’s the wiring I thought I saw.
    You’ve been looking at too much TV, Winston.
    He continued to stack stained newspaper and musty cardboard boxes. The lettering on one box had C’s on them and faded numbers. Rahal pushed them aside. “I haven’t opened these in I don’t know when.” He put a dolly in front of the cabinets. “Push back on it.” The lip of the dolly went under and we move them out in the alley. A scrap truck pulled up and a couple of big older guys hoisted the metal boxes on the truck’s bed. They thanked us and left.
    I was overjoyed and felt like a damn fool. How did I figure Rahal was a terrorist? Imagine if I called the cops the mess that could’ve started. Thank God. I counted 200 bucks in tips an exceptional day.
*
    Streetlights popped on one by one the closer I got to my building. A blue light camera caught my attention. Dammit, I forgot to get the camera. Oh well, I wasn’t going back. I left Rahal, Abiba and Baka in the break room shoving food in their faces. It was good to come home to a clean place. I showered and hit the play button on the phone; the messages were routine client requests for appointments. But, before I checked the building I’ll look in on my employer. Baka stood in front of Abiba laughing and started to hug her. She babbled something in Arabic, clearly the language was romantic. Baka rubbed her belly feeling for a kick. She jumped when the baby reacted. I zoomed closer. Tears of joy ran down her cheeks. Baka rubbed her face and kissed her deeply and cupped her behind.
    What... Baka was a lesbian!
    She pulled Abiba’s pants down and pushed her back against the cabinet. Abiba hopped on top and Baka buried her head between her legs; Abiba arched in pleasure rubbing Baka’s head while she undid her pants. Her jeans dropped, she turned slightly and I saw it, all eight or so inches.
    Baka was a man!!!
    Wait, that had to be a strap on.
    That’s no strap on, Winston. You wish. I fell back on the sofa. Man, I couldn’t believe it. I did a double take and Rahal came in the picture butt naked. He dropped to his knees next to the copulating couple. Baka pulled out of Abiba and shoved it in his mouth. What! The way his head moved he should be in the movies. Baka shouted something; Rahal stopped, broke down like a shotgun and Baka started riding him. I slammed the computer shut. I respect those people and their freaks and phonies. I was jealous, hard as a rock and I wanted in. How did she fool me and everybody else? I dreamed of Baka being my woman, the only woman who would understand and accept my other sexual needs. My first gay experience was a transsexual that’s not a problem, but I don’t think wants a black guy, mixed or not. But, I will have her, period.
*
    They say black coffee sobers you up, I beg to differ. It made it worse. I had no intention to stay out late, but I had a lot to ponder. Should I proceed with the dark thoughts and plan that clouded my moral character?
    I’m a hypocrite, so what; I’m entitled to my voyeuristic tendencies.
    For the past week I followed Baka after work. My little Nissan Sentra needed to move once in a while. Thank God, I didn’t have to complain to management about some idiot parking in my slot. Her routine was normal; stop at the store and go to her apartment complex. Her slot in the garage wasn’t the safest. Good, she’ll never make me in the shadows. When I put it on her she’ll love it. Think you slick, bitch, but I’m slicker. I jerked when someone touched me. “Hey Winston, you okay?” Baka said. I continued to stir my coffee. I looked in her gleaming eyes. I frowned and her smile vanished. “Ah...ah, I’m fine, Baka, and you?”
    “I’m concerned; you can tell me it’s none of my business, but something’s up. You been quiet and distant all week and you smell like last night’s whiskey. Slowdown, babe.”
    “Thanks for that I’ll work on it.” Good advice, Baka. Better she tell me then my client or the boss. I rubbed her shoulder. “Thanks again, I’m good.” I finished my drink and left her standing there. I didn’t take her advice and as soon as I finished work I made a beeline to the liquor store across the street. I downed a few shots when Baka pulled into traffic. I shadowed her according to plan and the space I picked out close to her apartment was empty. I slipped by the blue light camera that covered 13th St. I waited in the dark walkway behind garage while she parked. She’ll only be able to see my silhouette when she turns the corner. I heard footsteps, she turned and stopped. We were twenty feet apart, staring at each other. Her hand went under her blouse. She had a pistol. I cut the corner, hopped over a row of hedges and ran like hell to the next alley. No shots and I didn’t see anyone following me. I walked as fast as possible to my car and made a beeline home.
    I turned on the lights and threw my keys on the table. Am I stupid or what? I didn’t think she might be carrying. Your jealousy almost got you killed, Winston. Do something else other than spying; watch a movie, fix a snack and above all don’t drink anymore. An hour passed and the bell rang spoiling my pity party. “Who is it?”
    “Baka.”
    My finger hovered over the intercom button. What does she want? She couldn’t have seen me. “Baka, I’m busy call me later. I’m sorry.” If she’s pissed she’ll get over it. A minute later there was a knock on the door. If that’s Jeremy I’ll scream. He owes my five bucks and he won’t get another. I snatched the door open. “Oh, Baka, I said I’m—-”
    “Can I come in?” She snapped and pushed by me. “Was that you...Or should I say that was you by the garage? I almost shot you.”
    “What are you talking about, Baka?” She got in my face and that frown said it all. I wanted to tell her how ashamed I was, but I’d lose her friendship if I hadn’t already.
    “You scared me. You aren’t that type of guy.”
    “I’m sorry, forgive me.” How do I act about what I already know? What the hell. I spun her around, nibbled on her neck while I shoved my hand in her pants. She broke away.
    “I can’t, please understand.”
    “I will... I will.” I grabbed her crouch and she knew I felt it. Our lips locked when she straddled me and I carried her to the bed. For the next three hours we went at it like dogs. She was everything I fantasized and more. I never saw her without a hijab. Her hair was jet black and shoulder length. I studied her from head to toe. The she males in the movies have blotchy skin and numerous imperfections like men. That is nothing to be ashamed of, but Baka was 98% female. She had sizable breasts not implants, no scars under them, natural smooth soft skin, narrow waist and wide hips her voice and mannerisms was natural female. Her bone structure, the giveaway for transsexuals, was female.
    Baka was truly an anomaly.
    “Now that you have examined me, Dr. Winston. I’ll tell you a story.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—-”
    “Just listen,” she interrupted and rolled on top of me. “Am I too heavy?”
    I laughed. “No, but don’t take long.”
    “I always liked boys, me and a few others kissed and hugged all the time. But, as you can imagine, you get caught in my community you’re in serious trouble. My body started to change and I always had a soft voice. I come from money. When it became apparent I was becoming a female my family packed up and moved to this part of the country. My name got changed and, minus a long story, I became female with the exception. I’d never have surgery; I love to get my nut. I had a couple lovers, but one got killed, the other went back to Egypt. Believe it or not I speak little Arabic and I cannot read it. Winston, if you love me like you say do not expose me no matter where our relationship goes.”
    I eased her off me. “Your, our secret is safe. Now let’s eat something.” She kissed me and hopped up. Reheated barbecued chicken wasn’t bad as long as it didn’t sit in the refrigerator too long. We ate in silence. “I didn’t share my experience.”
    She wiped the corners of her mouth. “I’m listening the food is great.”
    “I always had a dip in my hip and being very cute, their words not mine, with curly black hair and light brown skin, the guys like me. And, like you they kissed and grinded on me in those secret hideouts kids have. The older, taller and more muscular I became I was overwhelmed with sexual encounters, male and female. My sisters made me comb their hair and ‘bam’ I was good at it and I’ve been bisexual and a stylist ever since.” There is a lot more, but she didn’t want to hear it. I caressed Baka’s hand. “You’re the woman of my dreams; it sounds corny, but true. I know we have to be discreet and that will not be a problem.” We finished eating and went back to bed.
*
    Baka Haddad breezed around the salon spreading her joy and professional skills to all the clientele regardless of who’s they were. She ignored, with grace, the flirtations of the four barbers who felt entitled to bed every female around. And, in my opinion, if a couple of them knew her secret they wouldn’t care. The first week after our encounter it was hard to act normal. After my inflated chest went down I view Baka as a friend with benefits. She brought something special into my life.
    I forgot about the camera in the storeroom. The voyeur in me said one more week and that’s it. I grinned every time I thought about Rahal and Baka doing the humpty-rumpty. Everybody was in and out of the storage room all day; I’ll have to wait to change the battery. There would be plenty to watch at home.
    The rest of the week the heat and humidity drained me even with the A/C blasting, but I installed a new battery at the salon. The heat wave killed business for the weekend and Saturday Rahal’s closed early. Everybody left except the freakish trio. When I got home I whipped up a smoothie, sat down and opened my laptop. I adjusted the haziness, and the audio was good. They stood by a table and Rahal slammed his fist on the metal box. “Why you can’t master your own kinds language is beyond me.”
    “I’m not good at it or any other language, just English for the time being.” Baka said and turned the lock on the box. “This is important.”
    “No shit and don’t let our desires negate the fact I’m in charge of this and future operations. Got it?” Rahal gave them both hard long stares.
    “Got it.” They said.
    “Abiba, how you plan to attack the infidels seven months pregnant?” She moved to the side of Baka out of the picture and the audio faded. Dammit, what did they say? She came back into focus.
    “I can do it quick on a walk by; they’ll never know what hit them. I did a dry run, my small caliber pistol silenced. I stroll by and pop, pop, and this particular cop takes his break out of sight of any blue light cameras. Trust me by the time anybody notices I’ll be long gone.” Abiba said.
    “Will it be in a diverse area like this one?” Rahal asked.
    “Uh, of course.” She looked unsure to me and the boss shook his head.
    “Killing cops is dangerous. The infidels are idiots and hate filled. The Blacks will be the first they fuck with, right Abiba?”
    “Yes and no. I plan a hit in a White business district too and then drive to the Latino hood.”
    “I’ll think about it, but what impact would it have? They’ll just replace him with more assholes. You’re shaking your head, Baka, let’s hear it before you give yourself a headache.”
    Baka reached to rub the baby. “I don’t mean any disrespect to you or our child.”
    I figured if it was hers, why would Abiba get pregnant by her; that didn’t make any sense. “But, such a plan might be spectacular over time; the video will get you in the long run. The solution to the enemies of Islam and Allah is micro-terrorism.”
    “Micro-terrorism?” Rahal asked.
    “Look at the drug epidemic of the infidels. Terrorize their recovery efforts. Those God-fearing hypocrites need punishment for developing those machines that drop death and terror on our young and elderly.”
    “I, we agree, but get on with it, Baka.”
    “Imagine terrorizing those 12 step support groups such as NA, CA and AA. These groups have members with multiple addictions. Let’s take narcotics or cocaine anonymous, what if I told you I developed a cocaine smoke bomb?” They were quiet.
    A cocaine/crack smoke bomb?
    “Just imagine tossing it in the meeting and the people who have been sober for decades relapse. Pillars of the communities fucked up again, not going to work and blowing their bank accounts or whatever.” They laughed and clapped. “Can you imagine after months of attacks like that they’ll have security guards and metal detectors at the entrances.”
    “Sounds good to us,” they said.
    Baka opened the box and took out two metal canisters. “I changed the ingredients in these tear gas canisters for a demonstration.” She pulled a pin on one and dropped it. Smoke shot out. They jumped up and started to fan the smoke. “Baka, are you crazy?” The smoke stopped, but the smoke detector in the hall started screaming. “Relax, it’s only partially filled.”
    Oh shit, I tapped the screen and the picture came back. Don’t die battery.
    “I need to buy a kilo of cocaine and a quantity of crystal meth. I’m excited about this, we find out where doctors, lawyers and judges have their meetings and lobbed one of these babies in there. Imagine the misery their love ones will go through, the disappointment. It cannot match our grief pulling dead bodies from a drone strike, but is a good start.” Baka hesitated. “Well boss, do I get the financing or what?”
    “Praise Allah, you got it, but how did you do it?” Rahal asked.
    “That’s a secret for now. I’ll share after a successful attack on the right group of infidels.”
    “Okay, fair enough.” Rahal said, and rubbed Baka crotch. “Now let’s play.” I slammed my laptop harder than I liked. I made a mistake about the explosives, but those sons of bitches are terrorists or soon to be.
*
    I went all in with Baka every time I care or love somebody I get kicked in the teeth. I poured coffee in my favorite Disney character cup and hit the remote. The cable news network’s pumped out that terrorist propaganda and now the feds arrested a couple young kids who want to fight Isis. Isis my ass, Rahal’s type are the scary ones. They got the money; they pay the politicians and banksters and smile in their faces. But, discreetly formulate attacks described by Baka and Abiba. Who guards twelve step meetings? Anonymous is the keyword. Nobodies on guard, their disease and recovery are paramount. My family’s been stricken with that disease and I’m struggling, at times, with overindulgence and they want to virtually kill them. Baka spoke about the prominent ones, where would they congregate? Do I tell the cops? Would they listen? If they did everyone at work will be under suspicion and surveillance. I’ll have to stop my passion. Removing my equipment would not be easy. Damn, I better give this a ton of thought. My cell rang. Baka.
    “Hello.”
    “Hey honey, missed you. What are you doing?”
    “Pondering a huge decision.” I said.
    “You sound like it too. I got a surprise for you, but if you need to be sober I’ll wait.”
    I hesitated, loosening up would be good for while. “Okay. You leave already?”
    “Yeah. I’m a block away.”
    “Okay, see you.” Now what, what do I do? My flesh answered with an erection. When I opened the door our lips locked and to the bedroom we went. After we got off and our heart rates were normal I watched Baka go get her purse. Females would kill to look like her. She took out a strange looking pipe. “That’s a pipe, right?”
    “Yeah.” She sat it on the nightstand. “I’ve been working on something.” She unraveled a piece of aluminum foil. “This is weed; meth and molly concentrate. You game?”
    “Uh, I guess. Breaking bad shit, right?”
    She nodded, “A little.” We laughed.
    “Where are you going to do with this?” I picked up the pipe. “Is that a combustion chamber or what?”
    “In a way. You ready to ‘Beam up Scotty’?” I nodded. She took the dough like stuff and packed it in the pipe and reached in her purse. She opened a small bottle, like the kind they have for Cracker Barrel syrup and poured the contents in the pipe. She grinned and shook it vigorously. “Wait a few minutes you’ll love this.” She sat on my lap and popped the plug and smoke poured out like a smoky exhaust pipe. Baka put it in our faces and we inhaled. The rush was incredible and paralyzing. We were glued to the seat. Smoke still trickled out the pipe and my heart was about to bust. Before I knew it the apartment was cloudy. “Don’t open a window, Winston, enjoy the atmosphere, baby.” We went at each other like frantic dogs. I felt good! I see why people get addicted. We won’t do this again; heaven will turn into hell, quick. Baka perfected her drug smoke bomb. God help us. I had to ask how, but be careful, Winston.
    “Damn, that shit was good, but that’s enough for me. I’m not getting hooked.”
    “I understand, baby. I wanted to share my discovery.”
    “Was this some kind of ‘Breaking Bad’ shit or what?” We laughed again, but she changed the subject. The cocktail had our tongues wagging about every subject under the sun, except Islam or anything Muslim.
*
    I lay in the bed staring at the ceiling. When will I get some sleep? How do people stay up for days? Sleep is a blessing, it’s time to recharge. And, when the sandman started to gain on me it was time to go to work. I felt down and foolish babbling all night. A chemical induced depression that no matter if I smoke more or not it was going to catch me sooner or later.
    That’s why I don’t smoke that shit. How did my cousin do it?
    Mother Nature didn’t provide any comfort. The gloomy gray sky opened up and drenched me twenty steps from the building. I returned and got an umbrella. The shower stopped. Go figure.
    I ignored the smiles and the greetings on the one block journey to a Rahal’s. Why be mad at the world. Who cares? I took a deep breath and opened the door, time to put on a smiley face and make money.
    Surprise, no Baka, after all the talk about of how she booked a million clients. I wasn’t in the mood to take up the slack. I tried to forget Baka is a want to be terrorist. I agreed with her about the hypocrites. If the wicked got theirs, that’s fine, but the innocent pay for their sins. Who do I call and what do I say? “Terrorists are going to throw cocaine/meth bombs in a NA meeting.” Yeah right, without proof they’d hang up and laugh. I wonder how she did it. The process had to be dangerous and the contents had to be under pressure. She said she needed a kilo. I’ll listen to see if they left the drugs in the storeroom. I went to the bathroom when I saw the storeroom was padlocked, but I thought I heard noise. Rahal employed ten people was anybody else suspicious? Why would they be, Winston, they’re not voyeurs? I’ll figure out something when I get home.
*
    I was beat, but I had to see what they were up to, more than likely the same thing. I couldn’t stop thinking Baka might do a practice run at the church on the corner. St. James was always open and easy to case. The basement windows were always cracked. Toss, run and boom. They’ll laugh, but I’m calling to tell them beware. I meant to buy a burner phone and damn if I didn’t forget. Oh well I’ll do it later.
    As soon as I opened the computer Baka was packing something in a green canister. She reached for a cup of liquid and accidentally dropped it. In a flash the floor by her chair was in flames. She scrambled to get to the fire extinguisher. There was a bright flash and the screen went blank.
    Damn, an explosion?
    I ran down the hall to the stairway exit window when I heard sirens. I saw smoke billowing out the back of the shop. Did she get out the back exit in time? Rahal left before me and Abiba was having the baby. The flames spread quickly to the neighboring businesses. When I got to 3^rd St. it was full of fire trucks and hoses. The first responders did a tremendous job containing the flames to only three businesses. A miracle by anyone’s standards due to the high winds off the lake. The hook and ladder and the other trucks sprayed water on the building hours after they recovered a body. I saw the horror on people’s faces. I hoped it wasn’t, but I knew it was Baka. I didn’t know how to feel, yet I felt everything, shock, sorrow and relief, you name it.
    What if Baka could’ve carried out her plan? Was this pre-poetic justice or what? I hoped her invention died with her. I’m not big on religion, but I call it a blessing. I wonder what the investigators will find. My camera should’ve melted in the explosion/fire, but if it didn’t I never leave prints, DNA on any of my equipment and it cannot be traced. If they find something they’ll watch everybody. I’ll shut down my hobby for awhile.
*
    My cell rang when I walked in the door, it was Anne. “Hello.”
    “Good to hear your voice, Winston. I’m glad you’re okay. I saw on the news about the salon, I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks, I’m stunned. After this blows over I’ll probably work out of the down town salon, if there’s room.”
    “If you need to talk call me, come over, or whatever you find the most soothing. Okay, babe?”
    “Got it.” Ann sounded hot and inviting. She’s what I need; enjoy a good older woman; forty isn’t bad, especially when that delayed grieving thing hits me.
    Would this tragedy change, Rahal? I doubt it. That left me with the responsibility to expose them. Extreme caution will be necessary. I’ll figure out something.

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