Barbey, at ninety-two
years, is the Bahamas’ Obeah Witch Doctor. He is dying. He must make contact
with his heir Corranna, a lesbian, with the use of her twenty-three year old
navel cord. In addition, Chiezne, a spiritual seed imprisoned to Earth for 500
years during the demise of the Lucayan Indians needs her so that he could
return to the heavens.
Corranna has no
interests in Obeah. She is a Junkanoo-festival drummer-dancer and photographer.
Sasha, a neophyte pesters her, but Corranna’s puppy love, Morganna, returns
from Germany. Morganna, a fashion model, rekindles their lost love, and then
falls prey to Knuckles, a drug baron and high school friend. Knuckles, with
lesbian, Tomboy, an assassin and drug baroness, work for Carlos Lehder, a
Colombian cocaine kingpin to spirit contraband to the USA. He utilizes Bahamas
Government High Officials.
A sizzling encounter
with Val, an American, introduces Corranna to crack. Circumstances from
Morganna’s and Knuckles’ past lead Corranna on a perilous sea escape with
Tomboy onboard an ocean racer while being chased by DEA, Coast Guard, along
with Bahamas Defense Force Marine Patrol.
Barely surviving the ordeal, Corranna, now addicted,
confronts Obeah powers then losing her inherited millions, and life.
“That’s a million dollars worth of drugs in there. We have to make a move to Nassau tomorrow. How do you feel - plane or boat?”
“Oh the plane please. I cannot wait to get back to my Mercedes.” She went on, “Drug dealing is dangerous. I mean, don’t people get killed, planes crash or other accidents? Don’t you already have enough money to enjoy life? At least, I have already seen enough money to enjoy life. Do you think you will ever quit?”
“Quit? Shit no! I am in the pipeline. People contact me. I gat a fast boat and could be trusted. Besides, I could make over one—hundred—thousand-dollars on one good trip. Most people don’t make that in a lifetime. Then, if I hit a good stash, like what came in. Man! A couple hundred millions. You gat to be lucky. After a big hit, then sale to the US, you could go deal direct with Colombia.”
“What is it to have all that money then dying and leaving it all behind.”
“No problem - me dying. I have seen death too many times. I am not afraid. If I die, just take care of my mama. I enjoy making money. The fever is in my blood. I got a buyer coming from Florida for some of this stuff.”
“Whom does the money go to? I mean, all this trust—with millions.”
“I turn over for the Colombians. They run things.” Fond memories flowed of their honest and open dealing. He liked the way they paid out money - as if it were bread to pigeons. Yet, he has seen them kill before within an eye blink, even as they smiled or talked calmly.
“Colombians? Why can’t we keep it ourselves?”
Knuckles yanked away from Morganna. He gave her a piercing, cold, wide-eyed stare; a cynical grin, which flared broadly to show all his teeth, followed. “Girl you talking big talk, but you gat to learn this business. Double—cross them or Americans on a deal - and you disappear. I have seen it happen. Every move I make with their stuff, they plan it. You know what does happen to people who get caught outsmarting them. They die.” Knuckles laughed. “But don’t worry baby. I am no fool. That money I bought your car with; it was theirs.”
Morganna felt her knees tingle then weaken. Suddenly she felt she had to use the bathroom. Her arms drooped limped as she stared up at the nights’ sky dotted with stars. She faintly brushed her hair aside. She stared about. She felt as if water were about to turn red with bullets. She back peddled a few cautious steps.
Her hands crossed her bosom. “What!”
“I was not registered for that move. They would never suspect me.” He stepped in nearer. He gently caressed her shoulders.
“The blood on you that night. People got killed?” Again, Morganna made a quick retreat.
