by Love Belvin
“Not even your family?” I pushed back.
“Hell no! Fuck them. They ‘on’t give a shit about me.” He scoffed. “Truth be told, they ‘on’t give a shit about you either, but you keep kissing they ass, wanting to be down. Fuck them.” The line went silent. Again, I didn’t know what to say. Abshir was right: the only known family we had in the States was on my father’s side, and they didn’t exactly extend themselves often. “Look, just do what the fuck I said. I’ll let you know when I get out.”
“If you need me for anything when you get out, don’t you think you should show just a little respect, Abshir?”
He snorted. “Respect?” His tone was punctuated with a level of resentment I didn’t understand. “Fuck you mean?”
“Ab…” My face collapsed into my palm. “I don’t want to fight. I’m honestly asking because I thought we could go to Mommy and Daddy’s gravesite when you get home. Maybe sit down and talk about…” I took a trying breath. “…I don’t know…us being better to each other now that we’re all we’ve got.”
There was a slight pause on the line before I heard him release another breath. “Yeah. I ‘on’t know about all that, but make sure you get that message to that nigga. I got another call to make, so I gotta go.”
And after a few hard thuds in my ear, I realized he was gone. I tossed the phone on the table, and pushed my face into my palms. Without notice, my shoulders trembled violently and my belly constricted, releasing a bucket of tears. It was getting to me again. I realized two years ago it wasn’t loneliness encroaching on my sanity, because I had a busy life between school and work, and was around a constant stream of people all day. I’d come to realize I was alone.
Working at Michelle’s gave me unbelievable flexibility. I could avoid going home to an empty house until the break of dawn, if I wanted. Some days, I’d go home and sleep just two hours, only to shower and be on campus, tackling one of many of my assigned tasks. There was no one to account for my time at the place I called home, but Dog. Professor Langston’s question about my future was a depressing reminder of me losing a huge piece of pastime. And I couldn’t forget my boss, Nicky’s, string of questions about my plans after graduation.
I had none.
That had me spit out an unexpected snicker. Was I really here crying about a bright future? What was wrong with me? I’d be fine. I’d figure it out. As long as I had good health and kept my head on straight, I’d be fine. I wiped my face, feeling silly. My chest collapsed and head rolled back over my shoulders. Stretching my neck, I needed to relax so I could leave this room without a trace of tears or sour emotions.
My phone chirped on the table. I glanced down and saw the alert of a text.
Your Friend: Three questions.
My friend? Who was my friend, and when did I program a contact under that—
Sadik…
Me: What?
I hadn’t heard from him since he dropped me off at the diner after the rooftop fire excursion in the City a few days ago.
Your Friend: I want to reach a middle ground. Tell me when I can see you again so you can ask me three questions and I’ll answer all three honestly.
The phone pinged again before I finished reading the previous text.
Your Friend: Oh, and you have to reciprocate.
My eyes bounced from wall to wall, processing this.
Me: How? When?
Why were my limbs softly trembling, the heels of my feet bouncing in the air?
Your Friend: By you answering my questions honestly and fully. What about today?
As I bit my bottom lip, inexplicably intrigued by his proposal, I sniffed back the tears of pain experienced just moments ago.
Me: Today doesn’t work.
I brushed the top of my index finger under the tip of my nose as I waited pensively. Here I was again, feeling…aswoon over this guy.
Your Friend: Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up wherever. Five pm sharp.
How many ways could I delay an answer? It wasn’t that I wasn’t intrigued. God, I was intrigued. Too intrigued. It was because I knew, after learning about this guy and his family, I had no business going out on a date with him—if it would be considered a date.
Wait…
My fingers busied, typing my response.
Me: Like a date?
I drummed my fingers over the circular tabletop.
Your Friend: Call it whatever you want. Just tell me where to pick you up.
“You ain’t hearing me, Deek,” he asserted.
“I am, Iban, but you gotta chill,” I tried.
“Chill? Chill!” he shouted, blasting into the Bluetooth of my car. “Fuck you mean chill? You ain’t hear what the fuck I just said? That fat ass Rizzo don’t wanna give the baby the Ellis name. Type of bullshit is that? So what, she ain’t fuckin’ married! That’s a fuckin’ Ellis in there. Ain’t no damn Rizzo put that baby there!”
Rory’s big ass eyes rocketed into me from the rearview mirror. I closed my eyes, pushing myself into the backseat of my car.
“Man, fuck him,” Iban continued his meltdown. “Fuck ‘em all! I keep telling y’all, fuck the waiting shit, and let’s snipe Damien’s ass! We need to remind everybody who the fuck we is!”
“We can’t do that, and you know it,” I droned fruitlessly. “It goes against protocol.”
“Man, fuck protocol!”
“We can’t fuck off the commission.”
“Yes the fuck we can. That weak ass agreement with them weak ass rules is what the mafia did. We ain’t the muthafuckin’ mafia. Rizzo came up with that shit, wanting shit to be run like it was when his father and grandfather ran shit. Them bitches weak as hell now. They can’t even take out the Lopezes—they that fuckin’ weak now. Fuck ‘em all!”
“You spoke to Pops about this?”
“He ready to clip Damien’s snake ass, too. Everybody ready but you.” Rory rounded her index finger in the air, telling me to wrap it up. “And we all know how the story go with Double E Bags and his favorite son—”
“Aye,” I spoke over him. “Incoming. I gotta go.”
“Wait. I ain’t get to ask about the Ab kid or his boy, Derrick. We ain’t got eyes on him yet?”
Briskly, I answered, “Not yet. I’ll hit you later. Love.”
“Love,” he puled predictably before Rory disconnected the call.
As I sat up in my seat, the door was being opened and Jefferson was sliding in with a manila envelope.
“Hey.” He nodded to me, then acknowledged Rory, who didn’t return it. “Here you go.” I accepted the envelope. “I looked into the calls from Lenny Jenkins’ family. The police department is looking into it because it’s been over two weeks. They only have one man on the search, though. As of this morning, they have nothing.”
I nodded, relieved. Iban wanted to cut up the Lenny kid’s body and send a part to his family. This confirmed my father ordered Iban to chill on his menacing inclinations. That gratified me. I pulled out documents with familiar names on them.
“And as you can see, on one of the reports in there, Vero Amato filed for divorce from Marcu Amato in 2001. It was…” He seesawed his head from side-to-side while flashing his clenched teeth. “…ugly and sooo not Sicilian, completely going against their Catholic beliefs. He fucked around on her so much over the years, she fucked his cousin. The cousin…”
I pulled up a distorted image of a corpse hanging from a noose. His head hung to the side, bloodied face darker than his hands. Blood stained the crotch of his pants and ran down his pants.
“What’s hanging from his mouth?” I asked, squinting into the shoddy copy of an already faded original.
“That’s Raphael Amato, Marcu’s first cousin, and his detached cock and sacs,” Jefferson explained, sans audible dramatics.
He didn’t need any. I’d seen pestilent shit coming up in my father’s line of work. I’d even carried out vicious penalties myself. However, most of the work I’d seen was delivered swiftly and a
bridged for legal reason.
“Shiiiit.” I breathed. Needing to progress from that grim state, I moved on. “And Derrick Little? He’s still laying low in Greenville?”
“Yup.” Jefferson sighed. “He’s not made a peep in South Carolina in all the six years he’s been down there. My guys did pull over a car with his friend driving. He had to cough up ID, but was let off when they realized he’s tagged.” I nodded.
I closed and stretched my eyes, exhaling.
All goodie…
I needed time. Time to link these independently working parts.
“And the girl?”
“Oh!” Jefferson scratched his eyebrows, recalling. “Bilan…” He snapped his fingers. “Asad—”
We finished it at the same time. “Yasin.”
“Yes,” I made clear. “Asad-Yasin.”
Damn…
Even hearing her name set butterflies loose in my damn belly.
“I didn’t get anything about her other than what I told you. College student. No real debt—oh!” He snapped his fingers again. “Her house is in foreclosure.”
My head jolted back a bit, and Jefferson caught the mild reaction.
“Yeah. It’s in there. It’s been in that status for over two years now. But other than that, there isn’t much on her. No arrests, nothing suspicious.”
Continuing to nod, I knew it was time to bring this conversation in.
“Thanks, man. One other thing.”
“Sure,” he acknowledged.
“There’s a grant opportunity being awarded to qualified police districts in the state to fund new drug task forces. Paterson and Bridgeton just jump-started theirs. I need to know which other towns are coming down the pike.”
Jefferson nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Thanks, man. How’s Mandy’s pregnancy coming along?” I tried transitioning my state of mind and posture to close this meeting. “Last days can be brutal.”
Jefferson relaxed into the seat himself and sighed. “Yeah, man. She’s becoming more sentimental, but I’m taking it day by day. I get it. There’s a whole damn human being growing inside your body. I just take all the shit she throws my way, man.” I nodded, expressing understanding. It was their first child. “And she’s loving the scalp massages, man. She keeps talking about how relaxing they are for her.”
“Good. Glad she’s enjoying them. A few more weeks to go?”
“Four. And it’s like I get more and more paranoid the closer I get. It’s like when your wife is pregnant, her safety is more stressful and more task-heavy than ever. That’s two lives at stake. You know?”
I didn’t. Having a family was so far off my radar.
I lifted my hand into the air. “Thanks for this.”
After slapping palms, he expressed, “No doubt. Hey, you heard about Edwin’s father being in the hospital?”
Edwin Johnson was a good friend of mine from Blakewood University. We were college roommates for a few semesters. After graduating with a degree in criminal justice, he joined the police department, then quickly worked his way to investigations. He was now a commanding officer in Newark. Our relationship had been too noted for him to be my inside eyes in law enforcement. Mike Jefferson here had been an independent recruit by way of means no one knew.
I bowed. “I was just there this morning. He’s going to pull through. We’re sure of it.”
“Cool, man. Be good,” he bade before letting himself out.
“Jefferson,” I called behind him, causing him to peer over his shoulder. “Look a little deeper into the Bilan chick.”
“Asad-Yasin? Anything in particular I should be searching into?”
Brushing my chin with my thumb, several thoughts shot through my head, like where I’d take her tomorrow, what she’d smell like, and what topic I’d use to engage her.
“Anything that doesn’t line up with a twenty-eight-year old college student.” As though those were typical characteristics. “Anything like a druggie husband or a carpet-munching girlfriend or some shit. I don’t know.” I scoffed. “Anything odd.”
“You got it, man.” Jefferson stood from the car, closing the door behind him.
My eyes swept the front of the car, catching big round eye balls with black dots shooting into me from the rearview mirror. I crooked my neck, raising my brows in question.
Her face dropped to her lap and she shook her head. “Fuck you doin’, sire?” She joked often with that title.
“Doing?”
Rory’s head lifted, and I caught her smirk as she rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. Why the fuck you wanna know about the Bilan girl? You know about her. She ain’t the target, Deek. Her brother ain’t even the target. Ain’t he ‘posed to help us get to the target?”
Ignoring her unspoken questions, I pointed to her in the mirror. “Your target is getting some food together for a picnic, Bean.”
“What food you get for a picnic?”
I smiled. “Picnic food.”
Her eyes rolled again at my wink.
“Fuck is picnic food?”
I shrugged, my gaze moving outside of the car as we pulled off. “Cheese, fruits, nuts…vino. Some shit.”
“For who?”
I scoffed. “Me and a…” I felt my forehead wrinkling. “…a friend. A good friend.” My stretched lips twitched at that prospect.
Rory’s tiny shoulders dropped, and her neck rolled. “The whole fuck?”
I stepped out of the car he sent to the diner to pick me up and glanced around. Trees, grass, people, and…
“Mic check. One, two. One, two,” a woman voiced a distance away. “Mic check. One, two. One, two.” Then a horn blew.
I turned a complete three-hundred-sixty degree angle in search of the source as a keyboard sounded. A car pulled up behind us. A ruby black-colored Mercedes-Maybach. The one I had the privilege of riding in the night of the Pixie concert last week. The one with the net brown quilted leather interior that felt like a pillow beneath me. The very one whose owner was stepping out with full-on confidence, wearing a heather gray suit with a stark white shirt opened at the neck and no tie. The owner whose kaleidoscopic eyes that appeared green today scowled the parameter before roving over to me.
And God, he looked delectable sauntering toward me, honeyed eyes searing through me and the lining of his full lips looking more pronounced inside of his stark five o’clock shadow. He acknowledged the guy, Lamont, who drove me here with a nod but no eyes, because Sadik’s eyes were always stapled to me when we were together. His heavy gaze made me feel self-conscious and I found myself wiping down my skirt and on their own accord, my legs extended, lifting in my heels. It was a reaction to my spiked anxiety.
∞7∞
“Hi, Bilan.” My name spilled like champagne from his lips.
“Hey.” I bounced on my toes, swiping the back of my neck as I gazed away.
“Glad you were able to make it.” His scrutiny was still on me.
“I said I would, Sadik.”
“Well, thank you.” His friendly grin was dangerous.
“Where are we?”
“You mean Montclair?”
“No. Here.”
He pivoted, throwing his regard around. “Looks like a park to me.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “I know. I mean why are we here? I hear music.”
“Yes. It’s jazz in the park. I thought it would be a good opportunity to talk more.”
I muffled my question of “talk more about what” with a smile.
“Okay, even though I don’t get why you’re so pressed to talk to me.” I hoped that would lead to something close to an answer.
“I think I’ve explained that more than once. You see the name I’m programmed under in your phone. Right?”
Sarcastically, I snapped my finger while nodding. “Right!” I sighed. “To be my friend.”
“Ahhhh…” He smiled beautifully. “She’s finally getting it.”
From the corner of my eye, I
could see body movements. It was his “people.” Lamont, the big guy who drove me, was carrying a picnic basket from the trunk, and Rory had a bag in one arm and a blanket in the other as they walked further down the green.
“Ready?” Sadik asked, reaching for my hand.
Without thought, I met his warm palm and my breath hitched. That small, but significant reaction annoyed me. Though he still affected me viscerally, this man wasn’t the same one I’d encountered in the diner or at the concert. Since that night, I’d learned so much about him. Things that should frighten me.
Hand-in-hand, Sadik guided me down the walkway and gingerly onto the grass, where his team had quickly set up a legit picnic setting. It was complete with food, wine, and a traditional red gingham blanket.
“What’s this?” I cracked on half a laugh.
Sadik’s lips lifted as he observed the last of the set. “A picnic. Hope you eat cheese.”
“That looks like more than cheese.” My gaze was a few feet away, on the blanket.
“Let’s go see what else is there.”
I turned to him with my lips pouted suspiciously. “Because, of course, you forgot all you packed in there before driving here to the park.”
Running his index finger against the patch of hair just beneath his bottom lip, he chuckled quietly. “Right. You’re a quick learner.”
As we approached the spread, Lamont was taking off for the car. Awkwardly, I lowered myself onto the blanket, trying to keep my skirt at a decent length as I arranged my legs beneath me. Then I tossed my phone inside my purse and pushed it to the top of the blanket, where I could see it. When I chanced a glance up, my attention turned rapt at the sight of Sadik peeling out of his suit jacket. He folded it symmetrically and handed it over to a waiting Rory. I couldn’t pull my eyes from him as he spoke in a hushed tone to her as he handed her his two cell phones. She nodded before taking off.