Velvet Mafia

by Lydia L Watts

  “Actually, I’ve been interested in the place for some time now.”

  “You know, Blake, if you acquire the property, you will not only have the land rights but also the mineral and air rights. That would make you the wealthiest independent landowner in the District.”

  “Yes, I know,” Blake said, barely acknowledging Eli’s stare.

  “If you get it, what will you do with it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. At a minimum, because of its rich history, I could turn it into a historical landmark. That way the property would be protected.”

  “If you pulled that off, it would be a coup d’état.”

  “Well, it won’t be that serious,” Blake responded humbly. “But it would be a major accomplishment.” Blake knew how to change the subject, too. “Hey, listen — before I forget — you did a great job today the way you handled Yeager.” Blake still needed Eli to think he trusted him and he knew a compliment would seal the deal. “But I want you to be careful when it comes to Yeager. I know I got you into this mess and if you want to pull out, you can.”

  “No way, Blake,” Eli said. “Remember, he threatened me and I don’t take kindly to being threatened.”

  “Well, if he finds out we’re working in concert with each other, no telling what he’ll try to do to you.”

  “I’m not worried, Blake, and neither should you be,” Eli said. “I can handle Yeager. Plus, with you coaching me, this should be a cinch.”

  “Okay, so let’s talk tomorrow afternoon. By then, I should have a preliminary plan for you to take to your next meeting with him.”

  As the two men left the restaurant and went their separate ways, they each realized something had changed. Blake knew he could no longer trust Eli, and Eli knew Blake had been keeping secrets.

  Blake took the scenic route home. The day’s events had filled him and he had too much on his mind simply to go in for the evening. He couldn’t believe that, after all these years, he finally had exposed his identity and it was okay. Not only did he have a friend in Charlie, he also had a partner with just as much interest in solving Devon’s murder as he did.

  As Blake drove around the District, marveling at the sights, he began to think about his life and how simple it was. Despite his secret, he lived a life most only dreamt about. He was blessed with good looks, education and enough money to go anywhere he wanted. He also had access to some of the most powerful people in the world. But, to Blake, none of that mattered. He was who he was because he had been born into a secret and that secret and the things his mother and father had done to protect that secret had made him who he was.

  For Blake, his family had brought him happiness and his special bond with his brother had given him his greatest pleasure. But now, Devon was gone, taken out as if his life had had no value to anyone except those who had watched him breathe his last breath. Just the thought of Devon dangling from an overhead beam was too much for him; Blake was forced to pull over and park his car. The pain and grief was excruciating and despite not wanting to cry, he could not stop the tears from flowing.

  “Why, God?” Blake asked angrily as he pounded his fist against the steering wheel. “Why did you have to take him away from me? My entire life has been a secret and now, everyone who knew my secret and everyone I ever loved is gone. Was this my purpose for life? Was I born simply to live a life of incognito? Anybody can have things and acquire great stature, but what good is it if you can’t share them with the people you love? I could be me with my brother and he could be himself with me. So why am I still here? Why was it so important for me to stay hidden all these years, only to find out that, if Devon died, I could expose my true identity? It doesn’t make sense, Lord!”

  Unbeknownst to Blake, his private outburst was no longer private. One of DC’s finest had noticed the car pulled over and decided to check it out. Blake didn’t see the officer coming, so when the officer knocked on his window, he was noticeably shocked as the flashlight blinded him.

  “Sir, are you all right?” the officer asked. “I’ve been watching you for the last ten minutes and you seem to be pretty shaken up.”

  “Yes, officer,” Blake said, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m fine. I lost my brother in October and I still feel his loss.”

  “I see,” the officer said, not fazed by the man’s response to his inquiry. “So, where were you heading?”

  “Home,” Blake said. “But I decided to drive around the District just to think. Today has been one of those days.”

  “Well, have you had anything to drink this evening, sir?”

  “No, officer,” Blake said, agitated by the suggestion. “I just told you why I pulled over. It’s embarrassing enough to be caught on the side of the road crying and then for you to think I have been drinking is insulting.”

  “I can see your point, sir,” the officer replied. “It’s not my intent to insult you. But you have to see it from my point of view. It’s not like you pulled over in the best neighborhood.”

  Blake took a few moments to digest what the officer had said. Under any other conditions, Blake knew he would not have stopped where he had, but in this case, the pain had just been too overwhelming for him to notice he had pulled over in a very seedy part of town known for prostitutes and drug exchange.

  “Now I see your point, officer,” Blake said as he cautiously surveyed the area. “Can we both call it a night and I’ll be on my way?”

  “In just one moment. But, first, I need to see your license and registration. It’s routine. Once I run everything and nothing comes up, you can be on your way.”

  Reaching for his registration from his glove box, Blake finally noticed the other officer at his passenger window. Although he knew he had nothing to worry about, he suddenly felt the pressure of being a Black male in the District. Blake had never had such an experience, but after noticing that the officer outside his passenger window had already removed the gun from his holster, he was on the alert.

  “Here you go,” Blake said, as he handed the officer his information.

  “I am sorry for any inconvenience, Mr. Jones, but we have to make sure you are who you say you are. So could you please step outside the car?”

  Although he had no proof, Blake knew there was more to this than what the officers were saying, but instead of letting on, he memorized the officer’s badge number and stayed calm. “No problem, officer,” Blake said, his hands across his chest. “You’re simply doing your job, right? The next time I see Commander Racine, I’ll let him know how well you did it.”

  Blake rarely dropped a name, but he saw instantly they knew exactly what he meant.

  “Here is your license, sir, and have a good night.”

  By the time Taylor heard back from Stan Lewis, it was close to midnight, but despite being pissed off, she couldn’t let on she was mad.

  “Hey, Taylor, I hope it’s not too late to call, but I wanted to touch base with you before things got to the point where it would be too difficult. It’s official: Jeffries will be indicted and Hilario did exactly what was predicted — hung everybody out to dry. It’s even rumored your boss might find himself caught up in the fray.”

  “Well, Stan, that’s not likely,” she said. “You know as well as I do that Guy Yeager will not go down that easily. And he would never let anything interfere with his place on the throne. Everyone knows my boss is the next mayor to run the nation’s capital.”

  Taylor had to come on strong if she wanted Stan to do exactly what she told him to do, especially the part about keeping everything to himself. And in order for him to bite, she had to appeal to his insatiable need to be in the mix of things. It was one thing to be the managing editor of a gay rag, but it was another entirely to deliver the news from city hall.

  “So, Ms. Thing, what can I do for you and the illustrious Councilman Yeager?”

  “Well, first, don’t call me Ms. Thing,” she said sarcastically. “I’m holding that title for when I become
the mayor’s chief of staff.”

  Again, Taylor was sweetening the pot. She had to make sure Stan believed she knew something he didn’t — that Yeager would be the nominee for the interim mayoral position.

  “Okay, Ms. DuBois, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, Stan, I think it best to begin with what we can offer you when the shift in government takes place. Are you interested?”

  “Keep talking.”

  “When Yeager assumes the interim mayoral position, he will be looking for a new press secretary and I thought you could very nicely fit the bill. But —”

  “I knew there had to be a but.”

  “Stan, this is DC politics,” Taylor said. “And even when it’s not said, there is always a but. Anyway, in order for Yeager to ascend to the position of interim mayor, he has to make sure he knows everything about any possible derailments to his chances.”

  “Derailments,” Stan said. “Oh yes, there are possible derailments. Just look at this Jeffries/Cruz thing. Your boss’s name is sure to come up.”

  “Again,” she said, this time no longer amused, “Guy Yeager will not be caught up in that mess. If his name comes up, watch how soon it disappears. You know as well as I do that even if he is involved in something that could jeopardize his career, it never sticks. This man is like Teflon.”

  “So, what is it you want from me and who, outside of Jeffries, could even give him a run for his money? Nobody on the city council. So who could derail his chances?”

  “Blake Jones,” she said, “or possibly, his sidekick, Eli Edelstein.”

  For a moment, there was a pause on the phone as if Stan were contemplating the validity of Taylor’s suggestion. Like so many people, especially members of the gay community, Stan also believed Blake Jones was a formidable threat.

  “Well, I guess you’re right,” Stan said. “Jones could be a fearsome opponent if he or his little minion, Edelstein, managed to get into the fray.”

  “My point exactly,” Taylor said. “And that’s why we need you.”

  “Okay, Taylor, why don’t you just get to the point? What is it you want me to do? And if I do it, are you saying I will be appointed as Yeager’s press secretary?”

  “What we want you to do is get information on Jones and Edelstein. We want as much dirt as you can find. What we don’t want you to do are three things. First, we don’t want any made-up stuff. No spinning to make it sound good and plausible. We need real, authentic information — information that can be proven. As you know, Blake has resources that would destroy Yeager’s credibility if you gave him something that couldn’t be proven.

  “Secondly, you have to do all the research and investigation yourself. You cannot tell anyone what you are doing and why. Finally, you will talk to me and only me. You can’t even talk to Yeager about our conversation or any of the information you uncover. Keeping him totally in the dark protects him if he is ever questioned.”

  Stan responded, “So let me get this straight. You want me to find dirt on Blake Jones and Eli Edelstein, report it to you and you only, and once Yeager becomes interim mayor, I become his press secretary.”

  “That’s it,” Taylor said. “That’s all you have to do.”

  “It sounds too good and too simple to be true,” Stan said.

  “I know, but when you think about it, these things usually are. You just have to find the right people in your inner circle to pull these simple things off and that’s why we are talking to you. So, are you in?”

  “I’m in and I can even give you some information on Mr. Jones right now. And, girl, you should know that this information is in real time.”

  “Oh, really! Go on. I’m listening.”

  “I’ve been dating this cop for a while, and tonight, after he finished his shift, he came to my place and you know —”

  “Really, Stan? Really?” Taylor interrupted. “I know you are not getting ready to give me a play-by-play of your romp with your boyfriend. I don’t have time for this mess. Call me when you really have a product to sell.”

  “Wait, Taylor,” Stan replied, immediately sensing he had turned the tables against himself. “I do have a product and I guarantee you will want to purchase everything I’m selling.”

  “Go on,” Taylor said. “And it better be good.”

  “Well, before I do, let’s talk about something else for a moment. What if I provide you with all this information and Yeager doesn’t get the interim position? That will mean I won’t be his press secretary and I’ll have fed you all this information gratis. That said, how will I be compensated for all the work I did and provided to you?”

  In that second, Taylor knew Stan had switched the script and she couldn’t stumble. “That’s easy,” she replied. “You will be compensated twenty-five hundred dollars for every piece of information you provide, as long as the information is true and can be validated.”

  “Interesting,” Stan said. “Very interesting! So let’s sweeten the deal. Instead of twenty-five hundred, let’s make it an even three thousand and you have a deal. After all, you know what they say: a queen will never get what she’s worth. So I might as well negotiate.”

  Taylor took her time in responding. She didn’t want to seem too eager, but she knew she wanted to hear the rest of the story and if she haggled with him over five hundred dollars, he might pick up his rocks and go somewhere else to play.

  “Okay. Deal,” she replied. “I will pay you three thousand for every piece of new information you bring us that can be validated. Now, finish your story.”

  “My pleasure,” Stan said slowly, as if he were already counting his money. “Well, as I was saying, my new friend found Blake Jones on the side of the road in Anacostia, right at the intersection of Good Hope Road and Martin Luther King Jr. Avenue … crying. When my friend asked him what was wrong, he said he had lost his brother in October and was still grieving, so he pulled over just to let go.”

  “Well, was he drinking or anything?”

  “No, he wasn’t drunk. He was like I said, just crying. So, when do I get my three thousand dollars?” Stan replied, eager to be paid in full.

  “Not so fast, Stan. This information may be true but it’s incomplete. You will get your money when you find out about his brother, who he was, when he died and what he died of. You’re the managing editor of a rag, so get me the complete story and I will make sure you get paid.”

  “Okay, Ms. Thing. But, when I do, that will be six thousand dollars and not three thousand. Are we clear?”

  “Trust me, Stan. If the information is true, you’ll get your money, all of it. Just let me know as soon as you get the information confirmed.”

  After convincing Stan Lewis his unique capabilities and services were needed and that if he helped, he would have unparalleled access to District information, Taylor was in a better position to find out why Councilman Yeager had a renewed interest in Blake Jones. She also knew she could use the information, at least what she herself had vetted, to feed to Jeffries. As long as she could keep all three men happy — Yeager, Jeffries and now Stan Lewis — she could manipulate the outcome.

  With the resources Stan had, Taylor could gather information on Blake Jones as well as Eli Edelstein and whatever Stan dug up would likely confirm her suspicions regarding Yeager. She had always sus-pected he was involved in something more than politics, but she could never quite figure out what. If Taylor could find out what Yeager was trying to hide, she would also understand why Yeager would risk everything by consorting with Eli Edelstein.

  Several hours had passed since her conversation with Stan and Taylor still couldn’t sleep. If Stan’s information was correct, she had to figure out who she would tell first — Yeager or Jeffries — and then she had to pay Stan. She knew that whenever money was on the line, people were capable of doing anything, especially in the District. She had watched from the sidelines as Yeager paid vendors for information, as well as asked vendors to create situations for a price and she was all
too familiar with how far they would go. To Taylor, Stan was no different.

  After measuring the consequences, Taylor decided Jeffries could wait. Giving the information to Jeffries would be simple because he just wanted to use it against Yeager. There had always been a love-hate relationship between the two men and she knew Jeffries’s vendetta was personal.

  Yeager, on the other hand, wanted the information for something else. Whatever the reason, his actions had already showed Taylor he was willing to step out of his own comfort zone and play hardball. And in all the years she had worked under him, she had never before witnessed Guy Yeager actually get his hands dirty.

  Chapter 8

  THE NEXT MORNING, Charlie called Blake early. He was eager to come over and show Blake the anonymous letter he had received with the photo of Dr. Cardosa’s murder and Blake was eager to see it. They both knew it was likely, Devon had sent it; but they needed to make sure.

  “That’s fine, Charlie,” Blake said as he scrambled to get out of bed and gain his composure. “About what time do you think you can make it?”

  “Now, if it’s all right with you. I can also pick up some breakfast along the way.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” Blake said. “So, where you going?”

  “Where am I going?” Charlie said, confused. “What do you mean, where am I going?”

  “Where are you going to pick up breakfast, old man?” Blake said, laughing.

  “Well, actually I wasn’t really going anywhere,” Charlie replied. “I fried some catfish, made some grits, eggs and hash browns with onions and I was just going to bring that over. Unless you want me to stop and pick up something special?”

  “No, that sounds delicious,” Blake said. “So I hope you can cook. Bragging this early in the morning. I hope you can back up what you say you can do.” Blake had fallen for Charlie. He seemed to fill a void only a father could and Blake was willing to give him that chance.