Author Janet Taylor-Perry: Inspiration 22

Prejudice, bigotry, racism...on this day that we celebrate our independence in the States, it's a good day to remember that our founding fathers established a government with freedom for all. Although the times worded documents using "men," it should be understood to mean "humankind." The fact that their ideals constantly come under fire, should be evidence enough that the idea of equality is something hearts full of evil would want to suppress. Thus, the underlying villain in Whatever It Takes is an ideology, just as the overwhelming hero is the antithesis. Let's meet some of the evildoers--but which ones are truly evil and which ones are playacting in order to bring down a diabolical regime?

Trash Collector

Darren McAlpin and Scott Ball knocked on the door of an old shack deep in the bayou. It sat half a mile through a marshy area from the Balls' old farmhouse they had rented. Both buildings were located at the ends of two gravel drives off Route 12, the opposite direction of the popular old Waffle House. A person unfamiliar with the area might easily take the wrong drive.

The building looked to be nothing more than plywood thrown together with a tin roof. It stood high off the ground on stilts for the area flooded frequently. The two windows visible on the front had the blinds drawn closed, allowing little light to escape.

Scott surveyed the area as they walked up, spotting what he assumed to be an armed sentry in the shadows.

As the boys knocked, a sliding peephole opened in the door. A voice asked, "What do you use to season your meat?" The man's words through the opening were accompanied by frosty breath, although the swampy area in March was already humid and far from cold.

McAlpin replied, "Adolph's Meat Tenderizer."

The doorkeeper allowed the pair to enter. Both boys shivered as they walked past the withered old man. Scott gauged the men in attendance at the meeting of the Eau Boueuse chapter of The Bald Eagles. A brown-haired man in his mid-thirties seemed to be in charge. If he was the leader, Scott wondered why he did not have his head shaved. The man walked over and hugged Darren affectionately.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Good," replied Darren.

"Anything new with Dad?"

"No. Let me introduce you to a new guy at school though. This is Scott Ball. He just moved here from Atlanta. His dad's a rigger. Scott is about to take the starting center position from that stupid jig-a-boo, Jones. Scott, this is my eldest brother, Derrick."

"Nice to meet you," said Scott offering his hand.

As a test, Derrick started a ritual handshake. Surprisingly, Scott knew it. "Atlanta, huh?" asked Derrick. "So, you obviously know about us."

"Yeah, but I was afraid I would be all alone here."

"Nope. What about your dad?"

"No, he's been too brainwashed."

"How'd ya get in?"

"Friends. I'm from Atlanta. We're the minority there."

"Aren't we everywhere? You got a girlfriend yet?"

"Basketball's more important right now."

"Yeah, right!" laughed Darren. "You should've seen the way he was looking at Cherie Reynolds."

Derrick chortled. "Good luck with that. She's a Reynolds. They seem to be trash collectors. They don't understand us. Come in and let's get started."

Scott noted those present. They ranged in age from fifteen to sixty-something, all white. They did not hide who they were from one another. There were no masks or hoods or robes. Most had shaved heads. Scott learned from observation that those with hair were in certain professions and places of leadership in the community, and appearing not to be a part of The Bald Eagles worked to their advantage. Some of the rougher looking men wore wife-beater shirts even in the cold inside the building. Peeking from beneath their clothing, they sported the ugliest bald eagle tattoo Scott had ever seen. Even grosser than the others I've seen. He unconsciously wrinkled his nose.

Derrick called the meeting to order. "We have several things to discuss tonight. First, we've hit a snag with taking back valuable artifacts. Our little cat burglar has disappeared, literally. There's no sign of her. Neither is there any sign of the diamonds she took on her last job. She must've wanted a new life for herself. Who could blame her?" He gave a little shrug and a slight smirk. "She got a nice haul. However, we don't have anyone dexterous enough to take over, so that brings us to our next order of business.

"Now that we can't target those undeserving usurpers, what do we do? I'm open to suggestions." Derrick leaned on the podium in front of him.

One of the men in attendance stated, "We've already burned their businesses and taken their women, even killed a few of them in New Orleans. Nothing scares 'em."

Another one said, "That's because too many bleeding hearts back 'em. Maybe we should target some of them."

"Such as?" prompted Derrick.

"Gautier," said another.

"Raiford Gautier is a good man," argued another. "It ain't his fault that his step-daughter married a nigger."

"She was his responsibility," argued the man who had nominated Raiford Gautier.

"Not so," countered the man who objected. "She was grown and gone and on her own."

"Anybody else?" asked Derrick.

"Felix Thibodeaux. He hires a bunch of Spics so he can pay 'em less. Keeps good white men unemployed."

"Okay," said Derrick. "Keep going. Two is not a list."

Darren spoke up. "What about that bitch of a principal, Larkin Reynolds? She gives 'em all chance after chance, but us—if we shave our heads, then we become her targets. She's determined to bring us down."

"Not just her," said another young guy. "Dr. Fairchild before her. So, she retired. Big deal! She's still on the school board. What about her hiring practices? Dr. Reynolds has only hired two new teachers, both white. Not so with Dr. Fairchild."

"Okay," said Derrick. "Apparently the school is a problem."

"What about the LaFontaines?" asked another. "He's the reason Lloyd is gone."

"I don't feel too sorry for Lloyd," said Derrick. "He was a faggot. Still, Kyle LaFontaine sold us all out. He has his own marketing firm. What percentage white employees?"

"Halfish," said a different man. "I work for him in his advertising design department. He really thinks he hires the most qualified on paper. Maybe he just needs a little wake-up call. Let's start with him. He's still a scared little boy who's about to be a father for the first time. A little vandalism with swastikas and faggot on the walls will scare him to death."

Derrick nodded. "Okay. What about Christopher Reynolds? He seems too sympathetic to these wusses' lawsuits. He won't sue his uncle or brother-in-law—conflict of interests—but how many of our group have had to pay out to these good-for-nothings because of him?"

"Yeah," agreed an older man. "I was one of 'em."

"So?" asked Derrick. "Is this a beginning list: Kyle LaFontaine, reminding him of his past; Christopher Reynolds, suing him for his lack of good legal advice; Felix Thibodeaux, focusing on his hiring practices and editorials; Rona Fairchild because the old bat kept good white teachers out of a job; Larkin Reynolds since she's targeted our kids; and Raiford Gautier because he neglected to keep his bloodline pure?"

"I move we adopt the list," said Darren.

"Second," said the older man who had been sued.

The group voted to adopt the list. Derrick went on, "Do I hear a motion to begin with LaFontaine?"

"So moved," answered the man who had brought up Kyle in the beginning.

"Second," said a random voice.

Scott scratched his head. The group orderly follows parliamentary procedure and voted to begin terror tactics with Kyle LaFontaine. I need to know more about him.

Derrick took control again. "I recommend we table the rest of the list until our next called meeting. Any objections?"

There were none. "Very well. A word of warning: Kids, don't test Dr. Reynolds. She'll ship you off to jail or alternative school in a heartbeat. Stay out of trouble, at school. If you do anything, make sure you're off campus."

He turned toward his brother and the young man who had come with him. "Now, next order of business. We have a visitor. Darren brought him, and he knows our secrets. Come up here, Scott."

Scott went forward while Derrick continued his introduction. "Scott comes to us from Atlanta. He has definitely felt the white man's oppression. Scott, what can you do to advance our cause?"

Scott looked mischievous, a half grin on his face. "What's the story on LaFontaine? Is he a faggot?"

"No. I'll tell you about it later. Why?"

"Well, I'm pretty good with a computer. Get me some pictures, and I can make his pretty little wife think he is."

"I like it. Shake up the little love nest in addition to scaring him. Well, gentlemen, do we take on another member?"

"Aye! I move we accept him," said Darren.

"Of course, you do, little brother. He's your friend. Second?"

"Second," came a voice.

"Any objections?" Hearing none, Derrick again performed the ritual handshake. "Scott Ball, welcome to The Bald Eagles of Eau Boueuse, Louisiana."

After the meeting, Scott was even more confused by this group. They're actually having food and drink. You'd think it was the Elks' Club.

Derrick interrupted Scott's thinking. "Okay, Scott, you want the nitty-gritty on LaFontaine. It's been nine years now since Kyle testified against Lloyd Palermo, a state trooper who was one of us. He said Lloyd raped him and had a relationship with his father."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Lloyd was an enigma."

Scott bit the inside of his cheek. This man is smart—too smart to be a part of this.

Derrick layered cold cuts onto a hoagie bun and Scott followed his example. "Publicly, he was this upstanding citizen, a hero even. Privately, he lived two lives. One of them was as an active member of The Bald Eagles. The other was quite secret. He was a fag and in love with Robert LaFontaine."

Scott snickered.

Derrick dipped an eyebrow. "What?"

"Row-bear?"

"Yes, he used the French pronunciation of Robert. This is Cajun country." He squeezed spicy mustard onto his sandwich. "Lloyd had a long-term relationship with the late great senator. Kyle caught them together when he was ten. As a way to control him, Lloyd raped the boy. However, Kyle isn't gay. He married the daughter of Detective Raiford Reynolds, Courtney LaFontaine, the school counselor. They're expecting their first child." Derrick took a big bite of the po-boy he had put on his plate.

Swallowing, he continued. "Lloyd Palermo used some of our boys for his own purposes. Kyle joined with us because he needed a family. He was a lost kid who felt isolated. Lloyd got him to rape and beat Neely Rivers who is now married to Raiford Gautier, Raiford Reynolds's twin brother."

Scott held up a finger.

Derrick laughed. "Let me guess. You can't believe they have the same first name. That's another story you can research. Back to the matter at hand. Kyle was supposed to kill the woman but didn't. He's not a killer.

"Robert LaFontaine told his son he had always been in love with Raiford Reynolds. Kyle and he are close. They patented the Reynolds-LaFontaine propulsion system and have made a fortune. Kyle has his own marketing firm downtown. One of his employees might make a good target, too. His wife's cousin's wife, Jenna Gautier, formerly Thornton, a.k.a. Irish Spring, used to be a stripper. So, what can you do?"

Scott ate some of his food, chewing slowly so he could think. "Let me research and find some pictures. Any more valuable information?"

"Check out Pierre Charmant. He's a flamer who owns an art gallery Raiford Gautier designed. He's shown both Neely's paintings and Jenna's photographs, and he comes for family holidays. Gautier brought an old voodoo queen to live on his property, but she died last year."

"Black?"

"Multi-racial."

Scott arched an eyebrow. "What's the difference?"

Derrick shrugged. "None, I guess."

"Okay. Well, Gautier is way down the list, and you just gave me a shit load of ammunition. I'll work on Kyle. I hope you'll be pleased." Scott left with enough trash on Kyle to make any story plausible, but his mind flew in a hundred directions. Something's off about Derrick. He's a weak link. He showed compassion for Kyle LaFontaine.

He returned home and searched the web a bit more. He allowed himself to chase a rabbit as he typed the name Cherie Reynolds. He followed her soccer career and realized she was part of the Olympic Development Program. She was already named an alternate for the United States Women's Team at only fifteen. He laughed when he read she had also been second alternate in the Miss Teen U.S.A. pageant and was named to Who's Who.

Finding a close up of just Cherie's face, he allowed himself to trace her features on the screen before he pasted the pic as his computer wallpaper. He sighed and whispered, "You're right, Cherie. They're trash. What does that make me—the trash collector?"

Cover by Christopher Chambers.

Who is the bad guy? Scott, Darren, Derrick?