Tareef (The Brothers Ali Book 4)

by Celeste Granger

  After a few minutes, Naomi stood to her full height and methodically made her way back to the window. She still heard the tile give and respond as she moved. Naomi didn’t stop, though. Safety was on the other side. She climbed back through, releasing a sigh of relief for being on solid ground she could relate to. Now, the feelings of anger and resentment took the place of fear. Naomi could hear her parents on the second level in the kitchen. That’s where she went.

  “What was all that about, Ruby D,” Vance asked, reaching for his wife’s hand, and taking it into his own.

  “I already told you, Vancy,” Ruby smiled. “Me and God, it was about me and the Man upstairs. In order to get upstairs, you got to get up!”

  It wasn’t funny, but Vance had to chuckle at her logic. In Ruby’s mind, it made perfect sense. They didn’t stop talking when Naomi entered the room. She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a drinking glass. Naomi filled it up halfway with water and set it on the table in front of her mother. Then she went to the other cabinet, the one that held all her mother’s medications, and pulled several bottles down. Naomi didn’t even have to read the labels anymore. She knew the medications by heart. When she was done, Naomi sat down hard in the seat across from her mom. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Ruby.

  It would have been polite for Naomi to wait until her parents finished their conversation before butting in, but the last thing on Naomi’s mind was being respectful.

  “Did you take your meds today?”

  “Not now, Naomi,” Vance countered. “Let your mom rest from her little excursion.”

  Her nose flared, and her jawline tightened. She wasn’t in the mood for her father’s coddling and dismissive tendencies toward his wife.

  “Mom, did you take your medication today like you were supposed to?”

  Naomi,” Vance repeated.

  “Mother, did you take your medication like you were supposed to today?” Naomi insisted, disregarding her father’s passive chastisement.

  Ruby didn’t want to talk about it, and so she didn’t.

  “Vance, you remember that time you took me dancing at the Red Room?”

  “Mom! Did you take your medicine today??”

  “You will not scream at your mother that way, young lady,” Vance insisted.

  “Dad, she nearly jumped off the roof of the house,” Naomi fired between clenched teeth. “You weren’t with her out there. I was! The entire time so I have a right to ask her if she did what she was supposed to, the responsible thing like you know, parents are supposed to do so they don’t scare the hell out of their children.”

  “No, I didn’t take it ‘cause I don’t need it,” Ruby sang. “I feel good today.”

  Ruby threw her hands over her head and waved them in the air like she just didn’t care. And she didn’t. She felt too good to care.

  “How many times do we have to do this?” Naomi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “How many times?”

  “She can’t help it,” Vance defended.

  “Then you make her,” Naomi fired back. Instead of making excuses for her, Dad, make her do what she’s supposed to.”

  “I’m my own woman,” Ruby chimed. “I’m my own person, an adult. I do what I want when I want.”

  “And you don’t take your medication like a reasonable, responsible adult because you don’t want to,” Naomi fussed. “I am so tired of this, for real.”

  “Then go, Naomi,” Vance sighed. “You don’t have to be here.”

  “If I wasn’t here, father, don’t you understand that your beloved wife would be splayed out on the ground, broken in pieces and maybe even dead?” Naomi stood up in one fluid motion and leaned her palms against the table. Her eyes were hooded, and they vacillated between her mother and father.

  “Would you rather I had left her out there to fend for herself since she does what the hell she wants to when the hell she wants to do it? Should I have not been here and stayed away like your other kids? Is that what you’re suggesting, Daddy?” Naomi was beside herself. This was out of character for her, yet her parents' response was typical, the same as it had always been.

  “Don’t bother answering,” Naomi sighed. She stood up from the table, glaring at her parents once more before storming out of the room. She didn’t hear either of them call for her, asking her to come back so they could talk about it like reasonable adults. She didn’t hear anything even as she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the front door. Naomi didn’t stop moving until she was in her car. Slamming her car door, Naomi shoved her hand in the purse, trying to dig out her keys. Her hands shook so bad she couldn’t grab them.

  “Ugh!” She groaned, tossing the purse into the passenger seat. Balling up her fists, Naomi shook them in the air before slamming them against the steering wheel. Frustration had gotten the best of her. She was sick of the whole situation—all of it.

  Chapter Two

  “If it pleases the court, your honor, the prosecution has failed to meet the burden of proof. They have failed to properly serve my client, and their evidence is circumspect at best. The prosecutor has operated under supposition without facts and indisputable evidence to support it. As such, I ask the court to dismiss all charges against my client and restore what he has been stripped of immediately. Thank you, your honor.”

  Tareef Ali sat down at the defendant’s table after making his final argument. The matter was now in the judge’s hands.

  “The court will recess for fifteen minutes. When we are back in session, I will render my decision.”

  When she struck the gavel, the court was temporarily dismissed. Tareef leaned over and whispered in his client’s ear. He then lifted his tall frame from the chair and strolled down the center aisle out of the courtroom. Stepping out into the main corridor of the courthouse, Tareef heard someone calling his name. Turning on his heels, he saw the person referencing him.

  “Tareef Ali, Esquire.”

  Tareef heard it in his tone and knew immediately who he was even before he fully turned around to address him.

  “Malcolm Bridges.”

  The two men stood face to face. They were professionals, though, and exchanged a professional handshake given where they were and who they were in the presence of.

  “It’s been a while,” Malcolm observed through appraising eyes.

  “It has,” Tareef commented, his affect flatter than usual.

  “I thought you only did contract and big money things for your dad’s company now.” Malcolm slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks as he spoke.

  “I do,” Tareef replied. “But I like to enter the courtroom from time to time. It keeps my skills sharp.”

  “I bet,” a slither of a smirk turning the corners of Malcolm’s lips.

  Malcolm and Tareef were in law school together at Morehouse. Both intellectuals, both Alpha men, competition between the two was fierce. The battle for first in class extended throughout their matriculation. In the end, Tareef graduated Magna Cum Laude with his juris doctorate and was first in class. Malcolm graduated Suma Cum Laude, graduating second in class. Their rivalry, spurned by Malcolm, continued, spilling over into the courtroom – Tareef working as a defense attorney and Malcolm as a prosecutorial attorney until he decided to go into private practice. Whenever they went head to head, it was like two Spartans doing battle. The wins and losses were clocked, neither wanting to be on the losing end.

  “So, what kind of case brought you here?”

  “I work with the Legal Defense Fund pro bono helping clients with property tax matters. Rogue landlords and shady corporations pushing small businesses out of the properties they maintain through loopholes and legal jargon most don’t understand.”

  “Oh, so you’re down here fighting for the little people,” Malcolm commented. “Slumming it,” he added.

  “Not little people, Malcolm, just people,” Tareef swiftly corrected. “And slumming it? Seriously?”

  “I hear you, Tareef
, using your spare time to help those less fortunate,” Malcolm commented. But it was not a compliment and barely an acknowledgment. Tareef didn’t miss it, though. It’s what he expected from Malcolm Bridges.

  “Well, I’m sure your incredibly busy,” Tareef replied, taking a moment to look down at his watch. “I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Malcolm echoed.”

  The men parted company.

  “Mr. Ali, court will be back in session in just a moment,” his assistant, Kareem advised.

  “Thank you.”

  Tareef followed Kareem back into the courtroom. By the time he returned to his seat, the judge entered the room.

  “All rise.”

  Those in the courtroom did as the bailiff instructed and waited until the judge took her seat before resuming their own.

  “I have heard arguments from both sides regarding the matter.”

  The tension was palatable in the courtroom. There was a lot on the table for both sides, but Tareef didn’t come to lose.

  “After reviewing all of the documentation entered in and listening to the testimony and reviewing the evidence, I agree that the state has failed to reach the minimum requirement regarding the burden of proof. There are no facts here. As such, the court rules in favor of the defendant, and punitive damages are assessed at 100,000, to be paid within thirty days of this ruling. Mr. Johnson, the store is yours outright and all of the inventory and possessions therein. The tax matter is no longer an issue. The court is adjourned.”

  Only then was there a response from those in the courtroom.

  “Mr. Ali! I can’t thank you enough,” Mr. Jones beamed as the two men stood to their feet and shook hands.

  “I’m glad it worked out so well,” Tareef replied, taking no credit for himself.

  “Thank you again.”

  Tareef made his exit while Mr. Jones’ family celebrated with him. He was pleased. Things had gone better than expected. It was this kind of work that Tareef enjoyed, helping those who could not always help themselves. Sure, the work with the family’s company has its own rewards, but this was grassroots engagement with real people with often immediate results. It was a good day.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ali.”

  “Good afternoon.”

  Tareef didn’t know who the woman was, but her eyes raked over him like he was edible, and she was famished. One would think Tareef would have grown accustomed to the kind of attention he received from women. Tareef and his brothers were some of the most sought-after men in the southwest region of the United States. They graced the covers of magazines, both business and pleasure. But that didn’t make women flirting with him, gawking at him, mentally undressing him any easier to handle. It didn’t matter their ages, and apparently, his age didn’t matter either. Tareef kept walking, despite her eyes remaining on him until he was out of the courthouse and on his way to the parking lot.

  By the time Tareef arrived at his car, he had already loosened his tie. Clicking the key fob, he unlocked the door and climbed in, putting his briefcase on the seat beside him. He started the ignition of the Mercedes 500S and put the car in drive. It had been a productive day, but a long day just the same. Once Tareef navigated through the tight streets of the downtown area and got on the interstate, he reached onto the dashboard, activating the phone.

  “Call Ameer.”

  The car did as instructed, dialing the youngest Ali brother’s number.

  “What’s good,” Ameer asked, picking up the phone.

  “Bro, all I’ve been doing is working, working, working,” Tareef complained.

  “I don’t believe that for one minute,” Ameer teased.

  “Seriously,” Tareef defended. That’s it, work on top of work.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “That I need to go out, do something fun, relax, have a drink,” Tareef commented.

  “You don’t really drink,” Ameer corrected.

  “But you get the idea,” Tareef replied.

  “Meet me at the sports bar tonight at eight, and the wings are on me,” Tareef suggested.

  “Alright then,” Ameer agreed. “I’ll see you there.”

  “Good on you, little brother. I will see you at eight.”

  Naomi sat in front of her parents’ house for a long time. She was too angry to drive. Road rage would have been super real if she’d gotten on the road immediately after leaving the house. She was still pissed, but at least Naomi felt like she could drive. She didn’t want to be there anymore. Naomi couldn’t handle being there anymore. What she would ordinarily do in these situations was call Racquel. Naomi hesitated, though. Her best friend had just returned from being on honeymoon with her new husband. Naomi didn’t want to bother her friend with her own stuff, but Naomi really didn’t have anyone else she could confide in. There was no one else who really understood, even though Racquel didn’t know everything. Naomi did have an older brother, Kent, but he wouldn’t want to talk about their mother’s histrionics. He would blow it off or spin it positively by saying something like, ‘well, at least she’s safe.’ That’s not what Naomi wanted to hear.

  Although Kent was the oldest, he never was made responsible for dealing with their mother’s condition. He saw her as happy, and when she wasn’t, mom was just said. In Naomi’s eyes, Kent was just as willingly blind to the truth as their father was. Her younger sister, Natalie, kept her distance from the entire thing. She was significantly younger than Naomi, almost nine years. Because of the age gap and their mother’s sometimes melancholy sometimes flighty condition, Naomi was frequently the one mothering Natalie. Naomi protected Nat from much of what happened when Natalie was young. Now that she was old enough and away at school, Natalie kept away from it all. That left only one person, Naomi felt like she could talk to, Racquel.

  Naomi kept driving. She didn’t call Racquel right away, debating on whether she should or shouldn’t.

  “Fuck it,” Naomi spewed aloud. Her car wasn’t fancy enough for an in-dash phone system. That didn’t stop Naomi, though, once she made up her mind. Keeping one hand on the steering wheel and her eyes on the road, Naomi reached for her purse. She dug in it until she felt her cellphone and pulled it out. It didn’t matter that Atlanta had a no-phone policy while driving. The way Naomi felt, she didn’t give a damn about the law. Holding the phone in front of her balanced on the steering wheel, Naomi swiped with one hand unlocking the phone and then hit the number one on speed dial. She did brace her phone in the clip holder when it started ringing. She hoped Racquel wasn’t in the middle of anything. She desperately wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t want to rain on Racquel’s wedded bliss.

  The phone rang twice. Naomi fully expected the call to go to voicemail, but before the third ring, Racquel answered.

  “Hey, girlfriend,” Racquel sang.

  She sounded so happy; Naomi almost regretted bothering her.

  “Hey, girl,” Naomi replied.

  “Uhn uhn, what’s the matter,” Rocky asked, hearing something in her friend’s voice.

  Naomi didn’t immediately respond. She hated to be a burden.

  “Naomi? What’s the matter,” Racquel repeated, holding the phone close to her ear.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for you,” Racquel replied earnestly.

  “Can I swing by?” The question felt like a total infringement, but Naomi was desperate. “I won’t if you and Khalid are in the middle of something, or maybe it’s not a good idea since ya’ll newlyweds. Just don’t worry about it,” Naomi muttered, her words pushing against each other she spoke so fast and in a low tone.

  “Naomi, stop it,” Racquel insisted.

  “I just don’t.”

  “Stop!”

  It didn’t matter what was going on with her and Khalid, nothing was, but even if they were in the middle of something, he would understand. Naomi had been with Racquel through everything. There was no way she would turn h
er away, not with how she sounded.

  “I’ll be here when you get here, so come on.”

  There was no room for Naomi to wiggle out of it.

  “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  “Drive careful,” Racquel replied before the two disconnected the line. Naomi had mixed feelings after hanging up the phone. She was glad Racquel said she could come, but she also felt bad for infringing. Yet, Naomi pointed her car in the direction of Khalid and Racquel’s home and drove that way.

  Racquel padded into the office where Khalid was working.

  “Bae,” she said, sashaying over to him and standing behind his chair. Racquel laced her arm around her husband’s neck and leaned down, kissing him lightly on the ear.

  “Hey sweet, what’s going on,” Khalid replied, momentarily lifting his hands from the keyboard and caressing Racquel’s arms.

  “Something is going on with Naomi,” Rocky answered. “I invited her over.”

  “I can make myself scarce if you ladies need to talk.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Racquel purred.

  “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, beloved. You know that,” Khalid crooned.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” Racquel smiled, easing around the chair, and sitting in Khalid’s lap.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, leveling his wife with a heated kiss.

  “Thank you,” she answered between kisses.

  Khalid reached onto his desk and picked up his cellphone.

  Tareef answered on the first ring.

  “Big brother, what’s up?”

  “What are you getting into tonight?” Khalid asked.

  “Did Ameer call you?” Tareef asked.

  “Should he have?”

  “I asked because I talked to him a little while ago. We’re meeting down at the sports bar in about an hour. Come through,” Tareef suggested.

  “I’ll meet you all there.”

  “Handled babe,” Khalid said as he placed the phone back on the desk.

  “You are so good to me,” Racquel hummed.