BURNING LOVE
“Had me a buddy for four or five years named Felix Perfecto,” said Wesley Nisbet, as his Duster finished off Rankin County. “Perfecto family come over to this country from Mariel, Cuba, on the boatlift in ’81. Guess they musta settled in Miami or somewhere in Florida for a while before movin’ to Miss’ippi, which is where we met, right here in Jackson. Felix was a good-lookin’ cat, dark-skinned with blond hair and blue eyes, which he got from his mama, who was of German extraction. Think her grandaddy was a Nazi fled to Cuba end of WW Two. All the girls went for Felix Perfecto. ‘Señor Perfect’ they called him. Boy had more women than Madonna had push-up bras. That’s why what happened to him’s such a tragedy.”
Consuelo shifted her left leg out from under her and folded in her right. She couldn’t wait to get away from Wesley and was relieved to see the Jackson city limits sign, but she relaxed, knowing it wouldn’t be long now, and decided to humor him.
“Somethin’ bad happened, huh?”
Wesley whistled softly through his front teeth.
“It ain’t pretty.”
“Dit-moi.”
“D what?”
“French for tell me. Venus been teachin’ me.”
“Felix was goin’ steady with a girl name of Felicity Tchula. Señor Perfect and Miss Felicity was quite the couple around here for a good while. She was a red-haired beauty, too, full of freckles with big green eyes and a figure like nothin’ this side of Sophia Loren when she was young. Ever see her in that movie, Boy on a Dolphin, with Alan Ladd, who had to stand on a box to be as tall as her? She don’t wear nothin’ but a thin, wet shirt, stays plastered to her tits. Hope Alan Ladd had a bite or two on them bullets.
“Anyway, Miss Felicity’s parents weren’t altogether keen on her hangin’ out with Felix Perfecto, since his main source of income come from dealin’ dope. Nothin’ serious, mind you. Felix sold reefer, is all, and maybe some pills once in a while, but no crack or ice or hard stuff. He started dealin’ in high school and just stayed with it afterward, so’s he wouldn’t have to work for nobody. He was a happy guy, Felix Perfecto, and didn’t never hurt people. They was sorta an ideal couple. Felicity was studyin’ to be a registered nurse.”
“We’re almost to where I’m gettin’ off,” Consuelo said, “so you’d best tell me the terrible part.”
“DeSoto Tchula, Felicity’s daddy, decided to try and persuade Felix to break-off with his daughter. He went to see Felix with three or four of his employees, construction workers from off one of the Tchula Buildin’ Company jobs. Felix told DeSoto to get fucked and the goons broke both of Felix’s legs, ruptured his spleen and kicked him so many times in the balls that one of ’em had to be surgically removed. Felix knew it wouldn’t do no good to bring charges against the man, seein’ as how DeSoto Tchula was so powerful in the town, so he waited until he healed up good as could be expected before he got his revenge.”
“What’d Felicity do after her daddy mangled Perfecto?”
“Felicity’s mama, Pearl, took her on a long trip to Europe. When they come back, Felix was about fit, and Felicity went to see him. He hadn’t wanted to see none of his friends while he was recuperatin’, includin’ me, and he didn’t let Felicity in, neither. Told her to go home, but warned her not to ride in a car with either of her parents.”
“I can guess now what happened. Real burnin’ love business, like me’n Venus.”
“Uh huh. First, Pearl Tchula’s T-bird blew up with her in it in the parkin’ lot of the Winn-Dixie on Natchez. Couldn’t tell her brains from the canteloupe parts. Quarter-hour later, DeSoto Tchula bit metal in his Lincoln Town Car when he started it up to leave a construction site out at the Ross Barnett Reservoir.”
“The cops catch Felix Perfecto?”
“He was already gone by the time the bombs went off. Hijacked a private plane from the airfield, a baby Beechcraft belonged to Tchula, and headed for Cuba. He got there, too, at least in the sky over Havana, but the Cubans wouldn’t let him land, sayin’ they’d shoot him if he did. He told ’em he was runnin’ out of fuel, but they didn’t care.”
“He explain about his bein’ born in Cuba, and all?”
“Suppose he tried, but whatever he said apparently didn’t do no good, ’cause the Beechcraft went down a few minutes later in Havana harbor. Felix never got out, drowned inside the cockpit.”
“What happened to Felicity?”
“Inherited her parents’ money, married a banker from Memphis and moved there. Has three kids, includin’ a son name of Felix.”
“Fittin’,” said Consuelo. “You can drop me up here, at the A&W.”
Wesley pulled into the drive-in and let the engine idle.
“Sure you don’t want to hang out a bit, get to know me better?” he asked.
Consuelo opened the door and got out.
“You prob’ly ain’t such a bad guy, Wesley, but I got my own agenda, you know? ’Preciate the lift,” she said, and walked off.
Wesley leaned over and swung the passenger door closed. Something about the girl made him twitch where it hurt but felt good at the same time, and he made the not-so sudden decision to make sure this one didn’t get away.