Dragons Wild

Griffen looked a question at Jerome.

“Uh-huh,” Jerome confirmed. “Definitely dragon blood there. Probably not as much as me, but it’s there. Somehow, though, no one’s gotten around to mentioning it to her. Remember what I said about female dragons?”

Thirty-five

There are certain moments in a person’s existence when they realize they have made a mistake and could very well die in the next few seconds.

Griffen had experienced one such moment back in Michigan when he had accepted a challenge to road race with an acquaintance of his in the dead of winter. As they piled into a curve, his car had suddenly lost traction and began to slide sideways toward a thin line of trees with an iced-over river just beyond. Rather than feeling petrified with terror or shouting like people do in the comedy movies, a sudden calm descended over him. He knew he had lost control of the situation, but there was nothing for him to do but watch as the events transpired. In that particular instance, his wheels had suddenly found traction on a patch of gravel and with a surge of power the event was past.

Stepping into the bar’s dimly lit interior and seeing the scene awaiting him, he felt that same calm as he realized that again he had lost control of a situation and could very well die for his mistake.

It had started i

Before the bartender could move, however, the kid made a beeline for Griffen.

“You Mr. Griffen?”

“On my better days,” Griffen said with a smile.

“Huh?” the kid blinked.

“Never mind.” Griffen sighed. “Yes, I’m Grif…Mr. Griffen.”

“Little Joe sent me to find you,” the kid said. “He needs to see you and said to tell you it’s important.”

“When and where?” Griffen said.

“He said the same place you two talked last time…right now.”

Griffen started to reply, but the kid spun on his heel and pushed his way back out into the sunlight without another word, his mission accomplished.

“Sorry, Maestro,” Griffen said, leaning his cue against the wall. “It seems something has come up.”

“You want company?” Maestro said, looking up from his shot.

“Naw. Where I’m going, they aren’t wild about strangers.”

“Suit yourself,” Maestro said and turned his concentration back to the pool table.

The bar was only three or four blocks away, and as Griffen strolled the distance, he wondered idly what Little Joe could want.

Maybe he was being called to demonstrate his poker skills again. Then again, it just might be that Little Joe wanted to introduce him to someone.

As Griffen’s notoriety had grown, he had noticed that more and more people stopped him on the street to introduce him to their friends or family or whoever it was that they were dating. There seemed to be a certain status attached to just knowing him these days.

What was more, he made a point of going out of his way to greet people, rather than staying in one place and making them come to him. As a young white man taking charge of a predominately black group, he wanted to make the impression that he viewed himself as the first among equals rather than a boss man who expected others to run and fetch at his command.

When they had first talked, Griffen had leaned on Little Joe pretty heavy. He didn’t think it would hurt their relationship if he unbent and responded to the summons as a demonstration of friendship and respect.

Two steps into the bar, however, he realized that he had misjudged the situation badly.

Little Joe was at his normal table all right. But sitting with him were two other young black men. They were both decked out in the “home boy” look that movies and television had made popular, with oversized shirts and shorts and banda

Griffen did not think they were here to play cards. Not unless the games they were used to sitting in on included having automatic pistols sitting on the table next to their hands.

Then, too, there was the table full of look-alikes in the corner, with an additional three sets of eyes boring into him.

He thought back to what Jerome had told him about shape-shifting and deliberately fought back his rising panic. He really didn’t know if he was bulletproof, but would just as soon not find out today. Somehow he knew that if he startled this group by going into an involuntary shape-shift, they’d shoot first and not bother about asking questions.

There was nothing for Griffen to do but stay relaxed and try to bluff it through. Maybe the wheels would catch a patch of dry gravel.

“Little Joe,” he said by way of greeting as he approached the table. “I heard you wanted to see me?”

“Griffen.” Little Joe nodded back. “Got a couple folks here who want to meet you. This is TeeBo and Patches. They’re brothers.”

From the family resemblance, Griffen assumed the two really were brothers. What was surprising, however, was how young they were. TeeBo was about Griffen’s age, while Patches was a good half dozen years younger.

He nodded politely at each of them in acknowledgment of the introductions.

“TeeBo. Patches,” he said. “Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?”

“You can keep yo’ white-ass nose outta our business…” the younger man began, but his brother cut him off.

“Patches!” TeeBo said. “Remember I’m go

He continued to stare at Griffen.

“Little Joe here tells me that you’re a reasonable man who likes to talk things out if there’s a problem,” he said finally. “So let’s talk.”

“Do we have a problem?” Griffen said.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” TeeBo said. “I’ve been told that you won’t let your people deal our product. That true?”

“I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed,” Griffen said.

“I have?” TeeBo seemed genuinely surprised.

“Well, only partially informed,” Griffen said. “I’m not telling them not to handle your product, as you call it. I’m telling them not to handle anyone’s product. At least, not while they’re working for me. If they want to deal, fine. I can’t stop them. But not while they’re on my payroll.”

TeeBo leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to one side.

“So you ain’t doing this to give someone else an exclusive with your crew,” he said. “Maybe like someone named T.J.?”

“Never even heard of the man,” Griffen said.

“See. I told you,” Little Joe said.

“Shut up,” TeeBo said. “I’m talking to Mr. Griffen here. I wants to hear about it from him.”

“He’s lying.” Patches put in. “Everybody’s heard of T.J.!”

“I’ve only been in town a couple of months,” Griffen said. “To be honest, I never heard of you two until just now when we were introduced. We travel in different circles. All I’m interested in is learning Mose’s gambling operation.”

“So what you got against dope?” TeeBo said. “You want us to cut you in or somethin’?”

“I’m not wild about it personally,” Griffen said. “But that’s not the point. I’m not stupid enough to try to stop it or to waste a lot of time and energy trying to save people from themselves. I only brought in this new policy when it started to interfere with my operation.”

“How you figure that?” TeeBo said.

“Do you know an old gentleman named Reggie?” Griffen said.

“Oh, yeah. I heard ’bout that,” TeeBo said. “He worked for you?”