by Nikki Turner
Like the R&B singer Monica, she was still standing. She had definitely come a long way, she thought as she ascended the two small flights of steps to reach the bull pen where her client was being held until she saw the judge. Lawyers had to log their names and times before being allowed to the holding area.
“Hey, Riley,” Yarni said to the deputy sitting at the small desk. “How are you? I need to see Tangaleena Londers.”
Riley took a glance at his watch and reluctantly shook his head. “It’s a few minutes past cut-off time and my boss is back there. I would if I could.”
“I understand,” Yarni conceded, knowing that his hands were tied. But she was in a tight spot because this was her first opportunity to speak with her newest client. Yarni had taken the case at the last minute, after receiving a desperate-sounding phone call from the client’s mother. Mrs. Londers didn’t have many details about the actual crime to pass along to Yarni, but she knew that the magistrate had refused to give her daughter bail. After Yarni agreed to take on the case, it seemed as if within minutes Mrs. Londers had arrived with a portion of the retainer fee.
“I hate being unprepared.” Yarni sighed, putting her notes in her purse while Riley looked at his own.
“Well, Mrs. Taylor, it’s only a bond hearing it says here. You can handle that. It’s a piece of cake for a seasoned attorney like you,” he said with an assuring smile.
The compliment brought a smile to her face; still, she was disappointed. “But I don’t like taking anything for granted. If you don’t mind, let her know that I’m here and they will be calling us shortly.”
“Anything for you.” Riley winked.
Yarni pushed up one more flight of stairs to the lobby of the third-floor courtroom. She caught sight of Tangaleena’s mother in her work uniform, pacing back and forth.
“Hi, Mrs. Londers.” Yarni reached out to shake the woman’s hand. “I’m glad you could make it.” Mrs. Londers’s palms were moist from nervous perspiration.
“Yes, of course. I would never miss something this important. I know it looks good for the judge to see that she has a mother who loves her and cares enough to be here for her. I’m waiting for Dougie, that’s Tangi’s guy friend. He’s said he was going to be here early to bring you more money to go toward the retainer.” She leaned in closer. “I want him to give you as much money as possible so that you can be extra-motivated to give my daughter your best work.”
In a strange way Mrs. Londers reminded Yarni of her own mother. Though they shared no resemblance at all, they both loved their daughters immensely. “What I do is not about the money. Understand, I want to be paid,” she said with a slight smile, “but when I take on a case I’m either all in or I don’t take it. So please don’t worry, Mrs. Londers, I will do my best on Tangaleena’s case,” Yarni assured her as she looked into the eyes of a woman who wore much worry, hurt and pain across her face.
“Thank you, dear. I believe you will, but I want you to get your money first thing.”
“If you insist.” Yarni changed the subject. “Do you know if your daughter has any priors?” Normally, Yarni would have this information at hand, but with all the drama going on, time had gotten away from her.
Mrs. Londers took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m afraid so. She has quite a few, but nothing in at least four years. She used to fight a lot.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “She’s been known to pull out a can of whip ass at the drop of a dime. But over the past four years, since she’s had her daughter, she hasn’t gotten in any trouble. Not a drop.”
“Okay, so she’s a mother?” Yarni knew that would help in showing stability and could be a good factor in why this woman deserved bond.
“Yes,” she smiled, “and that little girl means the world to her.”
“I bet she does. Well, let’s go in there and try to get the two back together, where they belong.”
“God bless you, Mrs. Taylor.”
Yarni gave Mrs. Londers a comforting pat on the shoulder, then headed for the courtroom.
Inside, Yarni quietly sat on the hard mahogany wooden slabs most courthouses used for seating.
She wasn’t yet concerned about the actual charges—assault and possession of a gun after being convicted of a felony. But she was slightly worried about Tangaleena’s priors becoming the focal point of this bond hearing and how that might affect the outcome.
Yarni grimaced at the fact that Judge Fairchild was presiding on the bench. Sometimes this particular judge’s decisions were not always as fair as her name may lead one to believe. But over the last few years, she and Yarni had developed a somewhat decent working rapport. After watching the judge rule in more than a hundred cases, Yarni was familiar with her tactics. She felt even better after seeing that Judge Fairchild was in a decent mood.
“Who do we have next?” she asked her court clerk, who had a head of white hair and a long pointed nose holding a pair of huge glasses.
“Tangaleena Londers versus the State of Virginia,” the clerk announced. “She’s charged with assault and possession of a firearm.” Just as the clerk finished speaking, Yarni took her place at the defense table, waiting for her client to be brought into the courtroom. The deputy ushered the inmate from the back, wearing the traditional city jail uniform: brown khaki scrubs and orange slip-on canvas deck shoes. Yarni smiled at Tangaleena, laying eyes on her for the first time. She was a pretty, well-groomed girl. Even in a jail uniform she looked good. Her skin was smooth and had a healthy glow to it. She had been in jail since Monday and it was now Thursday. There was no indication at all that she had been in a fight, at least not on the losing end.
Yarni turned around to look at Mrs. Londers before the proceedings began. She wanted to give her a reassuring look, but she was distracted by the guy who had taken a seat beside the woman. He looked to be in his early forties, average height, rail thin, with peanut butter–colored skin.
A chill ran down Yarni’s spine. How do I know him? A past client? she thought. Do I know him through Des? His head was turned as he said something to Mrs. Londers. Then he turned to face the front, and his round pop eyes met Yarni’s, causing her to feel like she was in a scene from throw-back boxing, when a young and new Mike Tyson hit Michael Spinks with the legendary right hook.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d ever forget that beetle-bug face. It had definitely been a long time ago, well over a decade, almost two, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. Her feet were like cement blocks planted there on the courtroom floor. She couldn’t move, and before she knew it, her mind had flashed back to the way their paths had crossed long ago. And though it had been over seventeen years ago, she remembered it like it was just yesterday.
It was 2:30 in the morning when Yarni and her girlfriend, Vanessa, walked out of the front door of Ivory’s Uptown Lounge with an attitude.
“That shit was so wack,” Yarni complained.
“You ain’t never lied,” Vanessa echoed her displeasure. “That shit was a waste of my makeup and time.”
The only thing Yarni and Vanessa really had in common was going out to the clubs. If Yarni needed a shoulder to cry on or even someone to go shopping with, Vanessa wasn’t the one she called. The twosome knew a lot of the same people and both could do the damn thing when it came to dressing. Partying and clubbing while looking fabulous was in their blood, so they often went out together.
“Let’s not forget this outfit.” Yarni was wearing a dress from LaVogue that had set her back at least four hundred bills. By the way she wore it, though, it looked like it could have cost four grand.
Vanessa cut her eyes, barely able to disguise her envy. “I know those shoes gotta hurt your feet.”
Yarni looked down at her feet, on which she’d donned three-inch heels with blinged-out straps. “Fashion sometimes comes with a little pain,” she said.
“Well, mine don’t hurt and I didn’t pay half of what you paid.”
“Don’t hate, congratulate,” Yarni want
ed to remind Vanessa, but instead she changed the subject. “You want me to walk with you to your car, and then you give me a ride back to mine?” Better safe than sorry, Yarni thought to herself.
“Naw, I’m okay. I’m parked right up the street.” Vanessa pointed to her car.
That was one of the reasons Yarni didn’t kick it with her outside of clubbing. Vanessa never thought about anyone but herself, but Yarni shrugged it off. “Well, a’ight. I’m parked in the other direction.” Yarni still gave her friend a hug, and as she walked off she said, “Call me when you get home.”
“Who said I was going straight home?” Vanessa giggled. “I might stop and put something in my stomach, like some hot fries … or a long, hard, thick dick.”
“That shit would be funny if I didn’t know you were dead-ass serious,” Yarni shot back, knowing Vanessa’s M.O. It was senseless trying to talk Vanessa out of something once she put her mind to it, so Yarni did the next best thing. “Just be careful … and make sure you make your donor carry an umbrella and wear a raincoat,” she advised over her shoulder.
“I don’t leave home without ’em. You must have forgotten … I graduated from my sex education class magnum cum laude.”
This bitch is silly, Yarni thought to herself, trying not to burst into laughter. “Well, I’ll call you later. Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”
“I don’t do regrets,” Vanessa retorted. “They get in the way of the fun.”
Yarni was thinking about some of the crazy antics Vanessa had pulled in the past as she turned the corner at Grace Street. It was packed with cars, but as far as people, it was a ghost town. Everyone must have still been getting their groove on inside the various bars and clubs, getting liquored up and/or trying to find somebody to go home with.
With her car a block ahead, Yarni fumbled in her purse searching for her keys, to have them on standby. Preoccupied, she never heard the blue Caravan creep up from behind until it was almost too late. The side door slid open and a young man clad in dark jeans and a black T-shirt jumped out.
“Lookie at what I done stumbled upon,” he sang as he pulled up his sagging pants to his waist with an up-to-no-good mischievous grin plastered on his face. “It must be one of our lucky days.”
Totally caught off guard, alone and vulnerable, Yarni could barely keep up with all the wild thoughts that started running through her head.
The young hoodlum had pockmarked skin and the arrogant swagger of a playground bully. She wanted to say something that would, maybe, persuade him to second-guess his plans, but she was unable to trust her own voice from giving away her secret: she was afraid for her life.
A dark minivan filled with God only knew how many people on a back street with a harmless young girl as their prey. Nothing good usually came from these types of situations. Rape? Robbery? Kidnapping? Or worse, murder? Her mind raced back to the past and she thought to herself, Not again. History could not and was not going to repeat.
She had gotten snatched and held for ransom almost a year ago to the day. For the most part the ambitious thugs didn’t mean her any harm. They were hungry and saw her as a quick come-up. She was to be nothing more than a meal ticket, to get them what made the world go around: money. But when her then big-time, dope-dealing boyfriend, Bengee, got the ransom call, he laughed and hung up, but not before informing the kidnappers that it was cheaper for them to keep her because he wasn’t coming off one copper penny. And he never paid the ransom they were requesting. It was one of the scariest things Yarni had ever had happen to her. If it weren’t for the hundred thousand dollars her mother and Uncle Stanka somehow came up with—not to mention her not panicking, keeping her composure and thinking on her feet—she was sure the kidnappers would have raped and killed her.
Now Yarni feared a repeat episode, knowing that most people are not lucky enough to be spared twice in a row. She took a deep breath as adrenaline overtook her body. The thug in the baggy pants inched closer, and whatever this dude had on his mind, Yarni knew she wanted no part of it. Scared or not, she was prepared to fight until there wasn’t a breath left in her body.
Inside her purse, she wrapped her hand around the .380 small caliber pistol her uncle Stanka had given to her after she had been kidnapped. She deliberately had some loose stitching in the lining of one of the pockets to hide the gun. That way when club security searched the contents of her purse with their flashlights, it would go undetected. So thanks to Yarni’s weapon of choice, this clown in front of her wouldn’t be the only one with a bag full of surprises tonight. Yarni contemplated her next move, and it was so unpredictable that nobody, not even Yarni, had expected it.
Without warning a brazen sound erupted. Pop! Pop! Yarni let off two shots straight through her pocketbook. It stunned the van passengers, causing an “Oh Shit” to come from one.
The shots rang out so fast, the thug was stunned for a brief moment. He’d frozen in mid-step, but only for a second. Once he saw the shot was fired into the ground and not him, he regrouped, sizing her up as Yarni met his eyes. She saw a smirk on his face as if this was all some big joke. But this wasn’t a game that Yarni was playing. This was her life and she planned to live it past the twenty years she’d already experienced on Earth.
“Bug, come on,” the driver of the van hollered. “Let it go, Bug. Let’s bounce.” But Bug ignored him.
“Fuck dat,” the young thug stated. “I got this. Shit is bubble gum! I ain’t never in my life been shook up by no bitch, with or without a gun.” He and Yarni were having a Mexican standoff with their eyes.
This was the first time that Yarni had ever fired a gun. When her uncle gave it to her he said to never pull it out unless you are going to use it. And if she waited too long after pulling it, she may lose her opportunity. Bug, inching closer, looked to be bold enough to try to take the gun away from her, which wasn’t an option for her, not at this moment or in this situation. Nerves caused her head to spin and hand to shake a little. But that didn’t stop her from doing what she had to do.
The next shot Yarni fired was another warning shot into the ground. She hoped it would persuade him to put some pep in his step in the opposite direction from where she was going. Instead of scaring him off, it did the exact opposite, increasing his confidence. He equated the wasted bullet in the ground with weakness, not strength, and moved in on her.
“You mine, bitch,” he said through gritted teeth, letting go of the baggy pants he’d had a death grip on in order to charge at Yarni. “Bitches should never play with grown men.” He yelled when he lurched toward her.
Wrong move. Yarni squeezed off another shot. This time the bullet slammed into Bug’s leg. Finally realizing he’d messed with the wrong one, the wounded young thug tried to turn and run from the trouble he had started. He was too slow, though. He caught another one slam dab in his rear end. “Shit!” he cried out. His ass was on fire. “Crazy bitch!” He tried to make his way back to the van. Whatever had been on his mind was now on his ass, as he hobbled in pain.
Still afraid that his friends may get out of the van and come to their comrade’s rescue with machine guns or something, Yarni made out like one of Charlie’s Angels and quickly pointed her weapon at the vehicle. She was feeling scared and invincible at the same time. “Hey, you motherfuckers! It ain’t like you thought it would be, is it? Now get the fuck on.” She simultaneously let a couple more shots off on in the direction of the van as she screamed at them. It was becoming easier by the second to pull the trigger on these fools.
Pedal to the metal, the driver of the van mashed out. He skidded off, burning up rubber trying to get the hell out of Dodge, leaving Bug to fend for himself.
“Fuck you going?” Bug screamed in frustration and disgust. To make matters worse, his pants, as baggy as they were, dropped to the ground. He hopped off after the van with his jeans around his ankles, watching the taillights of the getaway car signaling to turn. He was hoping they would wait on him around the corner. W
ith his naked rear end exposed, he watched the taillights vanish and realized he was assed out in more ways than one.
Back to Reality … in the Courtroom
“Counselor Pitman-Taylor, are you the attorney for this case?” Judge Fairchild repeated.
The sound of the judge’s voice instantly brought Yarni’s thoughts back to the courtroom. “Yes, Your Honor, I’ll be representing Ms. Londers.” For the moment, Yarni put aside the memory of the past situation and the man, Bug, sitting in the back of the courtroom. The man who would have done only God knows what if she hadn’t pulled the trigger. The man she had almost forgotten about until he waltzed into the courtroom. She peered into his eyes one more time, searching for any sign of recollection, and saw nothing but fear and urgency for his girlfriend.
Yarni acknowledged her client, who looked like a woman eager to be restored to the rightful place in the free world, and Tangaleena smiled at Yarni in return.
Prosecutor Lawrence Little III stood to his full height of 5′7″, straightened his yellow tie, then cleared his throat before speaking. “The state recommends that the defendant be remanded into the state’s custody without bond, Your Honor.”
Underneath her breath, Yarni quipped, “I bet the state does.”
Yarni and this particular prosecuting attorney had never gotten along and had been through more than their share of heated litigation battles. Yarni was well aware that Little hated her guts. Aside from him being a male chauvinist, he felt like she wasn’t worthy of having a law degree. Let Little tell it—and he did every chance he got—he was sure that Des was still involved in some type of criminal activity. How else could a black man that wasn’t an entertainer or professional athlete afford to buy a Bentley? Where would he get money to start up an exotic car dealership the moment he was released from prison? And birds of a feather flocked together, as far as Little was concerned. Which made Mrs. Yarnise Taylor guilty by association. He lived for the day when he could prove his theories and convict Des. That would truly make his dick hard. But he wouldn’t climax until he found a way to have Yarni disbarred.