by RM Johnson
18
Jahlil woke up to the smell of cooking bacon. He climbed out of bed, went to his closet, and pulled out a shoebox from the top shelf. He reached in and took out a rolled wad of money, held together by a fat, brown rubber band. Late last night, when he had come home and counted it, the total amounted to a little over $2,700.
For the last nine months, Jahlil, Toomey, and Bug had been doing whatever they could to make money. They broke into people’s homes, shoplifted merchandise from stores and sold it on the streets, and robbed people as they approached their cars.
Jahlil wasn’t proud of what he was doing, but he needed the money. The few dollars that his father threw at him were a joke.
He pulled the rubber band from the knot of bills, peeled off two twenties and a ten, then wrapped the band back around the cash. He set the money back in the box beside his 9mm handgun.
When Jahlil walked out of his bedroom, he saw his mother at the stove preparing breakfast. He stepped into the kitchen, lifted her coffee mug that was sitting on the counter beside the stove, and placed the fifty dollars of folded bills under it.
Sonya glanced over at the cash as she scooped bacon strips from the frying pan with a fork.
Jahlil sat down at the small kitchen table and watched as his mother came over and spooned scrambled eggs and bacon onto his plate. Sonya set her serving dishes down on a counter and returned with a bottle of hot sauce and her mug of coffee. She sat down across from her son and took a sip from her cup.
“Thanks, Ma,” Jahlil said, stabbing a clump of eggs and sticking them into his mouth.
“You saw your father at work last night?”
Jahlil nodded without speaking.
“He tell you we went up to your school and saw your principal?”
“Naw, he didn’t, Ma,” Jahlil said, not looking up from his plate.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Ma,” Jahlil said, giving his mother a stern look, “I said he ain’t say nothing about it. Now can I just eat my food?”
Sonya didn’t respond. She stared at her son. “You’ve been missing a lot of school. I’m worried. This money that you’ve been giving me, does it have anything to do with that?”
Jahlil set his fork down hard against the plate. “You don’t want the money? I’m trying to help you, trying to help us, and you asking me where I’m getting it from. You know what?” Jahlil said, pushing back from the table and standing before his mother. “I can just take it back.”
“I’m not saying that. You know we need it.”
“Then what you saying?”
“Jahlil,” Sonya said, rising from her chair, standing five inches shorter than her son, “you have to be in school. You have to be better than you are.”
“I ain’t hearing that,” Jahlil said, turning his back on Sonya, waving her away with a hand.
“If you’re cutting school just to make this money, then you have to stop.”
“What if I don’t want to?” Jahlil spun, raising his voice. “What if I don’t have that choice!”
“Then look around you. You’re choosing to live like this.”
The apartment was old, their furniture secondhand, the carpeting on the floor worn and soiled beyond cleaning. A quiet night was when there were screams or sounds of fighting coming from just one of their neighbors’ apartments.
“Your father didn’t go to school either, and you see all he has to—”
“I don’t wanna hear this no more. I’m leaving,” Jahlil said, turning.
Sonya caught him by the hand. “Jahlil, just—”
Jahlil spun, raising the back of his hand, as though he was going to strike his mother. She cowered back, raising an arm over her face.
“I said I don’t want to hear it, and I meant it!” he yelled.
Sonya slowly lowered her arm, shaking with anger.
Jahlil walked back over to the table and drained his glass of orange juice. “I don’t wanna talk about this again, all right?” he said, taking his three strips of bacon and wrapping them in a napkin. “And I don’t know when I’m coming in tonight, so don’t be calling my cell all worried and stuff.” He walked over to his mother, kissed her on the cheek, grabbed his book bag, and left.
19
Austin pushed his way through the doors of the Harris Firm & Associates, a small downtown family law office that employed seven attorneys.
He hadn’t slept very well last night, on account of the incident with Cindy. He tossed in bed, wondering if he had been too quick in his decision to end things.
As he approached his office door, he saw Reecie, who was his office manager. A beautiful brown-skinned woman with short-cropped hair and pouty lips, she was hiding behind her desk, her phone pressed firmly to her ear. She was whispering harshly into the receiver. “Look! I told you, I don’t want to have this discussion with you now. I’m at work.”
Austin stood in front of the desk, his arms crossed, unnoticed.
When the call was over, Reecie looked up, startled to see Austin. She smiled thinly, then set the office phone gently in its cradle.
“Argument?” Austin said.
“Uh, I guess.”
“With my brother, I assume.”
“The one and only.”
Austin shook his head. “Marcus is looking for a job, Reecie. You have to know that.”
“I know, but—”
“So please, stop breaking his balls. I see enough of the two of you as it is. I don’t want to have to choose which one of you I’ll represent in your divorce. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now, what do I have for today?”
“You have two in the office right now waiting for you, and I’ll have your schedule printed up for you in five minutes. It’s another busy day.”
“Busy days are what I like around here. Thanks, Reecie,” Austin said, before stepping into his office. “Oh yeah, and if you really want to trade places with my brother, I could always fire you and hire him.”
“Very funny, Austin. But no thanks,” Reecie said.
“Good morning,” Austin said, stepping into his office, approaching the women, his hand extended. “I’m Austin Harris.”
The shorter woman with the short, styled black hair stood, took Austin’s hand, and shook. “Good morning, I’m Monica Rodgers.”
Austin looked into Monica Rodgers’s eyes, holding her stare and her hand a little longer than he knew he should’ve, but for some reason, he couldn’t pull either away.
“And this is Daphanie Coleman,” Monica said, breaking what bond, if any, the two had.
Daphanie reached out a hand to Austin but did not stand. She looked tired and worried.
“Good to meet you, Miss Coleman.”
“Please, call me Daphanie.”
Austin set his briefcase down beside his desk and had a seat. “Now, tell me what I can do for you.”
Daphanie filled Austin in on the events that led her here.
“The contract he had you sign, do you have a copy of it?” Austin asked, very interested in taking a look at the document.
Daphanie dug into her large purse and pulled out the rolled-up contract. She handed it to Austin.
He flipped through the pages quickly, landing on one and giving it a moment of his attention.
“What do you see?” Monica asked.
“It looks in order,” Austin said, glancing up at Monica and forcing himself to take his eyes away again.
“That’s not good, is it?” Daphanie asked, concerned. “Does that mean you can’t do anything?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m going to have to make a copy and really give this a good going over. I’m sorry I can’t do it now. I have a very busy day scheduled and I’ll need more time to look at this.”
“That means you’ll take the case?” Daphanie asked.
“Yes. Definitely,” Austin said, standing from his desk. “Please, leave whatever pertinent information you feel I should have wit
h Reecie outside, along with the address and numbers for Trevor Morgan and Nate …?”
“Kenny,” Monica said. “His last name is Kenny.”
“Yes, and Nate Kenny,” Austin said to Monica. He thought he saw what looked like a smile from her, before she turned to exit the office, but it might have just been wishful thinking.
“Thank you,” Daphanie said, as the women walked out the door.
Austin leaned against his desk, telling himself that maybe he should stop Monica, ask her if he could call her. Yes, he would have her personal information in his records, but it would be against his ethics to contact her that way. He would need her permission. But who was he kidding? Just yesterday he had made a not-so-serious play for his ex-wife and then tried to start a serious relationship with an engaged woman, whom he knew nothing about aside from the fact that she was terrific in bed. He was emotionally all over the place. It was probably best he just left Monica Rodgers alone.
“Excuse me.”
Austin looked up to see Monica standing just inside his office.
“Uh, yes,” Austin said, surprised.
“I just wanted to thank you again for seeing us and taking this case without a second thought. It’s a shame what that man did to Daphanie. It should be against the law.”
“I agree. And thanks for thinking of my firm for representation.”
“Oh, someone had given me a card a while back and …” Monica stuck out her hand. “So … have a good day.”
Austin hurried over and shook Monica’s hand again. He looked in her eyes. She didn’t look away.
“Forgive me, but are you getting this too?” Austin said.
“Getting what?”
“There’s a little connection here, a little … electricity, or something. Or am I mistaken?”
Monica laughed. Austin felt her hand almost slip from his grasp but held on firmly. “Yes, you’re definitely mistaken. But you’re cute.”
“Really,” Austin said, smiling. “I’ll take wrong and cute over right and not cute any day.”
“Okay,” Monica said, laughing again. “You’re funny too.”
Feeling there was no better time, Austin said, “I know this is sudden, but what do you think about going out with me?”
“Wow, not one for wasting time, are you?”
“Not when I see something I want.”
“I really don’t know. I haven’t had much luck with the relationship thing, so I’ve pretty much sworn them off.”
“That’s why you came back in my office, because you didn’t want to talk to me again?” Austin said, feeling more confident. “Besides, who said anything about relationships? I just wanna know if you’d like to go out.”
“I came back in to thank you for taking the case.”
“Then show your gratitude by letting me take you out.”
Monica looked as though she was giving it serious thought. “The best I can do now is a maybe. Your assistant has my info. Give me a call and we’ll see. Now, can I have my hand back?” Monica said, smiling.
Austin smiled and released her. “Yes, and thanks for the maybe.”
20
Blue and Caleb had been through forms of hell together Caleb hadn’t even known existed. Their jail sentences split them, and until eight years ago, they hadn’t seen one another for the five previous years, but they always seemed to find their way back together. Caleb was glad about that. He had missed his friend while they were apart.
Blue sat on cement stairs beside Caleb. He was naturally muscular, wore a goatee, and had skin the color of dark, wet dirt. He chewed on a huge wad of bubble gum as he stared up at the building before them.
“I shouldn’t even be here,” Caleb said.
“You said Kwan’s guys were waiting for you yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, but they ain’t do nothing.”
Blue popped a bubble he had blown. “So what, you think that means they ain’t gonna do nothing? That guy with no head and hands—his name was Darryl. I know a guy who knew him. He had a little girl. He was into Kwan for only twenty-five hundred.”
“That’s five hundred less than I owe him,” Caleb said.
“Yeah. That man won’t have no problem doing you just like he did the other dude, don’t matter if you two went back to grammar school together.”
Caleb lowered his head, clamped his hands over his skull. “You did eight years in prison, Blue. Why you even considering this?”
“I ain’t got plans of going back, ever. But there’s still money to be had. Look at that building,” Blue said, grabbing Caleb by the shoulder and pointing to the three-level electronics store across the street. “Filled with all sorts of flat-screens, computers, and video consoles. Me and a couple of guys already got an inside man. All we gotta do is walk in, clean ’em out, and load it on the truck. Don’t know how much our share will be for sure, but it’s a portion of everything we take. The man who runs the operation said we should get no less than four grand apiece.”
“Four thousand,” Caleb said, looking up at Blue.
“That’s right.”
“Who is this guy?”
“Just some dude I met my last year. This is what he does, finds out about moneymaking opportunities, and puts teams together to take advantage, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
Caleb looked up at the building again. He thought back to all those years ago when Blue, Caleb, and their friend Ray Ray decided to hold up a convenience store, because Caleb needed the money to help his family.
Ray Ray died in that robbery attempt, and Blue and Caleb were both caught only blocks from the scene.
Blue did eight years in prison, Caleb did five.
Caleb remembered the day the enormity of what he had done finally dawned on him.
He had already been incarcerated. Sonya had visited him and told him she wouldn’t be able to do the time with him. She was taking their son and leaving. It was the worst day of Caleb’s life. In one bad move, he lost not only his freedom but his family, whose well-being was the reason he had committed the crime in the first place.
Trapped in jail, with five years in front of him, Caleb had felt he had nothing left to live for. But days later, Caleb’s father, Julius, who had been diagnosed with terminal prostate cancer, came to visit him.
The man had abandoned Caleb, Marcus, and Austin for twenty-five years and only tried to reconcile with them after learning he was going to die from the deadly disease. But he was there, trying to finally do right by his son. He told Caleb that he would move Sonya and his young son, Jahlil, to California with him and his partner, Cathy.
Caleb hated his father, had every reason to reject whatever he wanted to do for him, but he had no other options.
Julius held the phone to his face, staring at Caleb through the thick prison glass. “I told Sonya that she could get a job there, live with us. We’d help take care of Jahlil. We’d give them everything we can.”
Nervously, Caleb said, “What did she say?”
“Nothing at first. But she finally said yes. She said yes, Caleb.”
Caleb stood up from the steps now, looking down at Blue.
“So what’s the deal? You in?” Blue asked.
“We rolled the dice once and we lost,” Caleb said. “I ain’t risking that again. I’m forty-one. My family and my freedom mean too much to me now.”
“And how about your life?”
“I got a couple of contracts I’m supposed to be finding out about. I get money up front for those if I get them. It’ll work out.”
“And if it don’t?”
Caleb held out his hand to Blue. Blue stood and gave him some dap. “It’ll work out,” Caleb said.
21
Outside of the Harris offices on the street, Daphanie turned to Monica and extended a hand.
“Thanks for doing that. I appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t know if it’ll do any good.”
“Still, you didn’t have to help me. Espe
cially after how … well … you know.”
“Good-bye, Daphanie,” Monica said, about to turn to leave.
“Monica,” Daphanie called. “I was just wondering … has he asked you back?”
“What?”
“Nate, he ask you to come back to him?”
Monica couldn’t believe what this woman had just asked her. “He left me because you lied to him and told him you were having his baby.”
“I know, but after he found out it was a lie, I’m sure he asked you back. He would try to hide it, but when he talked about you, I could hear in his voice that he still loved you.”
Monica could hardly comprehend this. After they had divorced, everything Nate had said to her, every time he confessed he still loved her, Monica had felt he was lying. But for someone else to say she could hear the so-called love Nate felt caught her by surprise. Monica told herself to put what she had just heard out of her mind, and she tried her best not to show the struggle she was having with it. “Good-bye, Daphanie.”
Half an hour later, Monica walked through a nearby store, looking into the glass display cabinets.
As she browsed, she thought about last night, when Daphanie had called in the middle of yet another nightmare. This time Freddy was in her bedroom with her. Monica had locked her door as she did every night before she went to bed, but somehow Freddy got in the room. When she realized he was there, she sprang up in bed and immediately took a bullet to the head. Monica saw herself, saw the hole the bullet burrowed into her skull, witnessed the thin line of blood as it dripped down the center of her face, between her bulging eyes.
She had stumbled out of bed, fallen to the floor, crawled across the room, and checked her bedroom door. It was locked. She lay back down, wide awake for another two hours, fearing that someone was standing outside her front door, that someone might come into her house. If someone did, and was standing at the foot of her bed, what could she do?
A bearded man wearing a plaid shirt stepped up behind one of the glass cases Monica was looking down into.
“Welcome back. Your application was approved two days ago. You’re all set to buy. See anything you like?”