Bend Down Low

Angelina owed Brian an apology. So determined was she that Brian take over for Trevor, she’d forgotten how she had first devised the delivery circuit. Selling marijuana—how preposterous! But Trevor had persuaded her to consider its lofty benefits. The right puff could ease worries, lift the spirit, and open the mind.

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So to test the proposition, she sent him to Debbie McCabe first because if T revor could coax odd, reclusive Debbie even to open her door, Angelina would go forward. Debbie was the litmus test.

Trevor sang a love song before he knocked. Maybe he danced, too. Who knows? Instinct, luck, or even a canny question common among practicing clairvoyants—he had asked Debbie right away if she had once played music. As a child she had played the cello, and he said the music still resonated all around her. It made her beautiful to anyone who looked. Trevor had shown her how to roll a spliff and sold her two ounces.

Debbie knew Brian was coming and would be wearing the cap. But Angelina had seen how the Tar Heels baseball cap changed Brian’s face. She’d seen it but let it go. Brian wasn’t the type; it looked like a disguise. And Debbie, who was coloring her hair with a home kit, panicked: A shady character gesturing and shouting at her while his car’s headlights flashed across the street.

Carla was fixing rice and red beans with a little coconut milk for lunch. Andrew had told her his mother cooked it that way on holidays. The Jamaicans worked so hard, they needed holiday food once or twice a week.

“Can I help you?” Angelina leaned over Carla’s shoulder. “Brian’s on his way back from an unfortunate misunderstanding. He might appreciate a little time alone with you.”

“What? Was he arrested?”

“No, but almost. It’s mostly my fault. We all knew Brian was wrong for the job. It was brave of him, but really, I got thoughtless. From now on, Trevor will go with him.”

“Why didn’t anyone think of that before?” Carla laid a big spoon on the counter and sighed. “Trevor’s not crucial to anything going on here. It’s amazing how everyone depends on him—for what? He’s not especially good at anything anyone can name.”

“You really don’t like him,” Angelina said.

“No, I like Trevor. Like everyone here, I love Trevor. I adore him. But I love Brian more. So he’s not a cool criminal. To me, that’s admirable. He’s smart and capable and funny. Trevor’s just a whole heap funnier. And I hate how unfair that is.”

“Honey,” Angelina said gently, touching Carla’s shoulder, “Brian and Trevor are content with each other. They’re not jealous brothers. So ease up on that. It’s between them. Thing is, I forgot how I’d set up the ganja deliveries. By mistake, I sent Brian to the paranoid recluse first.”

“Why not give it up, Angelina? Brian’s got so much other work. Why make him drive all over the place? Because, you know the way things work. Brian will get busted and go to jail. And Trevor will get off. Some fluke will make him innocent.”

“The business brings in several thousand dollars a week, Carla. And, now that Jacob’s refined it—have you noticed how uplifted a little bit makes you feel?—I’m raising the price. No one in North Carolina sells anything half as pleasurable.”

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