Role Play

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

  “I was having Wednesday night prayer meetin’ wit’ the ushers from my chu’ch,” Cary volunteered. “And while I was prayin’, they was in my dresser drawer stealin’ my rent money.”

  “Lies!” Brooklyn interjected. “That ain’t true and you know it. That nigga you got is a straight-up junkie. You be prayin’ and he be comin’ in here high and trippin. He steals all yo’ shit, and all you do is call on Jesus and blame us!”

  “And they got the nastiest goddamn mouths for li’l girls I’ve ever seen,” Cary spat. “God bless the dead, but my late sister, they grandmother, was the biggest whore around and slickest thief I knew. They mama was number two, and there sits numbers three and four.” She pointed.

  Mrs. Grace winced from Cary’s harsh words and said, “Ms. Cary, that’s not necessary. Brooklyn, no profanity. Please. You’re a lady. And please tell me you two are not stealing.”

  “Now you want ’em to lie to you?” Cary snorted. “You know they crack babies, they don’t know nothin’ about the truth.”

  “Ms. Cary, please. Brooklyn? Demetria? What do you have to say?”

  “I say, it’s been two years, lady,” Brooklyn said. “And you come up in here er’time she calls you and you never mention our mama, or our sisters who Aunt Cary sent down south—”

  “Sho’did. I wasn’t putting up with no babies,” Cary snapped.

  Brooklyn continued, “I’ve had enough. And I wanna know when am I goin’ back home to my mama. ’Cause me and my baby sister, we gotta get up and outta this piece.”

  “Yeah,” Meechie added. “We ready to go home.”

  Cary rocked as she laughed. “Shiiiiit, I want y’all asses to go home too.”

  Brooklyn huffed. Her chest rose and fell. The fist in her throat pumped. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She looked over to Mrs. Grace. “Our mother needs us.”

  Mrs. Grace pushed her lips into a tight smile. “Brooklyn, Demetria, sweethearts—”

  Cary spat, “Oh, here comes the social work bullshit. Just tell ’em. Y’all know what yo’ mama did. And now the court done sent her up the river to pay for it!”

  Mrs. Grace pursed her lips. “Please, let me explain it.”

  “You ain’t explainin’ nothin’, though. You sprinkling sugar on shit!”

  “Ms. Cary, please let me speak with the girls.”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  Mrs. Grace continued, “Unfortunately, your mother will be gone for a very long time. Probably the rest of her life. I don’t think you’ll ever see her again.”

  Meechie’s mouth dropped open.

  “Whatchu mean?” Brooklyn stood up. “Lady, you tellin’ a bunch of goddamn lies!”

  Cary snorted. “Newsflash: God don’t like ugly, baby. And your mama ain’t worth the bad fuck it took to make her. She shoulda been mouthwash. But nevertheless, here we is, and there you two is, evidence of what happens when a ho get fucked with a dog’s dick.”

  Brooklyn snatched the glass lamp off the end table and slammed it into Cary’s mouth.

  Snuff and blood sprayed from between Cary’s lips. Her nose and chin exploded.

  Jagged pieces of thick and hard glass shot into her face as she stumbled backward and fell to the floor.

  Mrs. Grace stood in shock, while Brooklyn rained blows onto her aunt’s face and Meechie stomped her in the gut.

  Mrs. Grace screamed, “Nooooooooo!” She frantically picked up the phone and dialed nine-one-one.

  The sound of gravel beneath the patrol car’s tires pulled Brooklyn from her memory. She blinked into the moment. Looked around. A glimmering streetlamp. An abandoned housing complex.

  This is not the precinct. “Why am I here?” she asked the officers as they drove through an open garage door, parked, and shut off the engine. They walked her into an abandoned building and up the stairs. She froze. Suspended in the last time she was here.

  Chapter 47

  Elle

  “Hey, Elle.” Dominic hesitated as he bolted into her dining room. “Where’s Monty?”

  “Where’s Monty?” She looked at him suspiciously, placing the glass of wine she sipped on the table. “I thought after the rally you rushed back to the office with him?”

  “That’s right, he said meet him at the office. Not here.” He took the palm of his hand and placed it against his forehead. “What was I thinking? With this reelection campaign, it’s been a lot going on. ” He attempted to toss in a laugh.

  “Maybe you need to sit down for a moment and collect yourself. Have you eaten today?”

  “Not yet. I’ll grab something.”

  “Not yet? It’s late. And we’ve all had a busy night. Sit down. Mary,” Elle called out to the house manager. “Please bring Dominic a bowl of that delicious squash soup the chef made.”

  “Elle, thank you, but I really don’t have the time.”

  “You have to eat. And once you do, then leave. Now, sit down.”

  “Really, Elle, it’s okay.”

  “I know we had a little exchange at the rally, but it’s not poison, I promise.”

  He chuckled.

  “Just have some. Besides, I could use the company. Seems I’m always home alone.”

  “Alone?” he said, as Mary set the bowl of soup before him. He dipped his spoon in. “This is delicious.”

  “I told you.” Elle gleamed proudly.

  “You did. Now tell me this, what do you mean you’re always alone?”

  “It’s usually just me, myself, and I.”

  An awkward silence fell over the room.

  Dominic sliced through it, and said, “A beautiful woman like you should never have to be alone.”

  “I appreciate the compliment, but there’s a strange thing that seems to happen in marriages.”

  “Which is?” He sipped more of his soup from the spoon.

  “One day you want to be together forever, and a few years down the road, two kids, and an old dog, forever turns out to be too long.”

  “He loves you, Elle. He’s also been under a lot of pressure lately.”

  “So, he has an affair. With Lisa two-point-oh. And you can’t pay this one away.”

  “You didn’t deserve what he did to you then. And you damn sure don’t deserve it now. You’re a great, beautiful woman. You’re smart. Strong. Bold. He wouldn’t have accomplished half of what he has without you. And for not appreciating that, he is a fool.”

  Elle blushed. “This is what happens when your husband’s best friend feels sorry for you.”

  “This is what happens when the so-called best friend knows you’re too good for your husband. You deserve more.”

  “More like what?” she pressed.

  He didn’t respond.

  She continued, “More like you?”

  “I thought we promised to never talk about that.”

  “We did. And after tonight we can make the promise again. But, for now, I want you to know—”

  “It shouldn’t have happened,” he said.

  “But it did. And I’m not sorry.” She paused. “You were just what I needed. Sometimes, when I’m here alone I wonder what life would’ve been like had you been the one to grab my arm that night. I think life would’ve been sweet.”

  “Loving. You wouldn’t be alone.”

  “And you would’ve been governor.”

  “That’s what I should’ve been.”

  “You still can be.”

  Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

  Dominic’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “Thank you for the soup. I needed it. But I really have to leave.”

  Elle watched Dominic walk out of the room. A few minutes later, she heard the front door close.

  She sipped her wine as her phone vibrated. A text, from Dominic: YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE ALONE. YOU KNOW WHERE I AM. CALL ME. I WILL ALWAYS ANSWER FOR YOU.

  She read the text twice.

  Then she gathered her things. “I’ll be back, Mary,” Elle said, walking o
ut the front door.

  Chapter 48

  Elle

  “You were right,” was Elle’s version of “hello” the moment Sheila opened her apartment door. “You were always fuckin’ right.” Elle leaned with a shoulder against the door frame, fidgeting with her wedding rings.

  Sheila stood at a wide stance; her arms crossed over her breasts. Her eyes darted to the space beyond Elle’s shoulders, where she honed into feelings of déjà vu. She shifted her glare back to Elle. “Why are you at my door at eleven o’clock at night?”

  “Sheila—”

  “You’ve got five minutes to tell me what you want, and you’ve already used up two.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “One.” Sheila took a step back, prepared to push Elle from the threshold with a door slammed in her face.

  “I filed for divorce,” Elle quickly spat, unsure if Sheila heard her or not.

  Sheila slowly opened the door, stopping at a hair crack. “What?”

  “I filed for divorce,” Elle repeated.

  Sheila opened the door an inch. “There was just a clip on the news—”

  “I was made to take it back.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Made?” Sheila squinted. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long story, and I can’t tell you out here. I just need you to know that I’m scared.” Tears covered Elle’s cheeks.

  Sheila opened the door two inches more.

  Elle leaned into the open space. “All I’ve ever wanted was to do the right thing. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else. I just wanted to find my place in life and somehow fit in. And I married Monty, because I loved him and I thought that was the right thing to do. You know my life. You know how I grew up.”

  Sheila opened the door wide. “That’s the thing, Ellaina, you’re an adult now, with options.”

  Elle shook her head. “I don’t have options.”

  “Oh, please. You have options. You just choose to exercise the one marked Monty, because you’re more concerned about your parents, and what they would think, than how you truly feel. Maybe you can lie to everyone else and perhaps they believe you, but I know you and your bullshit well—”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you’re a mess, and I don’t want to navigate through it anymore.”

  “I need you.”

  “Really? Since when? What life-shattering thing has happened in the last few hours that suddenly you need me?”

  “Let me in so we can talk, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . .”

  Elle let out an exhausted huff. “Sheila, I never stopped loving you. I think about you all the time. Wonder how you would feel about this, and about that. When I hear music I know you’ll love, I want to call you and hold the phone to the radio—so you can hear it. Remember when we were teenagers and how we used to do that?”

  Sheila wrestled with her lips to keep them from curling into a smile. She knew what Elle was doing.

  The smile won, and without warning Hi-Five’s “Kissing Game” played in her head. “Yeah, I remember,” Sheila said. “What about it?”

  Elle blushed. “And we’d hang out on the phone, just listening to one another breathe. I miss the way you breathe, baby.” She ran a fingertip up Sheila’s arm. “I need you back. Us back. I do. Please. I need my best friend. I have so much I need to tell you. And you are the only one who will understand.”

  Sheila shook her head as if she were flinging away a hex. “Somehow I knew you would pull this shit. Even though, just this morning, you cussed me out, asked me to leave, and everything in between, I knew you would show up here like nothing had ever happened. Tell me, what changed? Has another mistress come forward? Is she pregnant? Or is something even more scandalous about to turn this week’s news cycle on its head, again?”

  “Let me in and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Sheila studied Elle, then stepped to the side. She pointed to the couch. “Five minutes and then you need to go.”

  Elle took a seat, and Sheila stood near the door. Elle told her everything, from the first time she met Stephen Himes, how she initially thought his pay for play with Monty simply meant a contract here and there and unquestioned access to the port. But she never imagined Monty to be in this deep with ICC.

  She gave the graphic details about how she was snatched from the parking lot and shoved into Stephen’s truck. How he placed her life in Monty’s hands. How she came home and slapped Monty, and he pushed her into the wall. “I could’ve been killed!” Her hands trembled. “Monty didn’t give a fuck. He’s too deep into this shit to care about anyone else, other than saving his own ass! I’m going to divorce him!”

  Sheila shook her head. “He’ll never grant you a divorce, Ellaina.”

  “Why not? Lots of politicians are divorced! And I’ve had enough of his shit!”

  “Think. Don’t be so naïve. You know too much. Wives can’t be forced to testify, but ex-wives can.” She paused. “I need you to tell me this, when it all hits the fan and the Feds swoop in—”

  “Maybe they won’t.”

  “Of course, the Feds will close in on this. Every day Monty is a headline. Have you read that People to People complaint? It’s not to be taken lightly, and it’s just enough to get the DA’s attention—the same DA who has made it known that he’s no fan of the governor. Now, when it hits the fan and the Feds swoop in, can you be implicated in any way? Did they ever funnel money through your foundation?”

  Elle swallowed. “I don’t know . . . I don’t think so—”

  “What do you mean, you don’t think so? It’s your foundation!”

  “But Monty always handled the books, hired the people, kept track of the donations that came in. I just conducted meetings. Wrote grants. Worked with the community—”

  “And turned a blind eye while they laundered money in your name. How stupid—”

  “They didn’t do anything in my name—”

  “Excuse me, in your foundation’s name—”

  “—and I’m not stupid!”

  “Sure.”

  “I didn’t come here to be insulted. Anything that Monty did, he did it on his own.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “I have seen Monty’s emails, electronic copies of his files, scanned handwritten notes, none of which mention me.”

  “And how did you gain access to that?”

  Elle hesitated. “I hired a hacker. And I was able to gain access to his computer. I just wanted proof that he was cheating on me. That’s it.”

  “You hired a who? A hacker? To break into the state’s computer and the governor’s devices? You really did that? Is this really happening, because this is crazy—”

  “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

  Sheila gave a quick bark of laughter. “Are you serious, or is this an act?”

  “Fuck it, I’m done explaining myself.” She stood up.

  Sheila reached for Elle’s hand and gently pulled her back to her seat. “Listen, I’m trying to help you figure this out. Because if the Feds charge Monty, they will bring you in for questioning. And they will break you.”

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Exactly! You didn’t. You saw what was in his phone and his computer and you did nothing, not even go to the police—”

  “You do realize this is my husband?”

  “I do. And you need to realize that all of what you just told me amounts to conspiracy. Hacking is also a federal offense. No one would believe this innocent dizzy damsel-in-distress routine. Definitely not the U.S. Attorney. They would have their way with you in the courtroom. And you yourself know that Monty is a no good motherfucker who would pin something, anything, on you in a heartbeat to save his own ass—”

  “I don’t know that—”

  “You’re right, you don’t. And therein lies the problem.”<
br />
  Elle dropped her face into her palms and poured the wet heartbreak into her hands. The shrieking sobs tore through Elle’s chest.

  Sheila embraced her. She closed her eyes as they rocked through the pain. She stroked Elle’s hair. “Shhh, somehow we’ll figure this out. God, I wish I could’ve warned you. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

  “I am too.” Elle sniffed. “I never thought . . .” Elle swallowed tears and held her head up. She noticed a wet glimmer in Sheila’s eyes. “I have to get myself together.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not some weak li’l bitch, you know.” She chuckled a bit.

  “And you never will be.” Sheila wiped Elle’s wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. She pulled her into an embrace and pressed their foreheads together. “I will never let him hurt you. But we can’t keep any secrets—”

  “I’ve never meant to hurt you, Sheila. Please believe me . . .” Elle shivered. “I’m so scared if I do anything, Stephen will kill me, or my boys. Maybe even you.”

  “Me?” Sheila looked confused. She held her head up.

  “Stephen knows I had a lesbian affair, he called me on it.”

  “Did he specifically say with me?”

  “No, but he knew enough. I’m sure he knows the truth.”

  “Perhaps. You think he’d tell the governor?” Sheila asked, with a tinge of panic in her voice.

  “I don’t know. But what if he does, and what if Monty tries to fire you and take my boys in the process? He’s a vindictive motherfucker—”

  “He wouldn’t.” Sheila did her best to reassure Elle, though her tone said she was anything but confident.

  “You don’t know that and neither do I. Monty’s desperate.”

  Sheila stared off into the distance. She looked back to Elle. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Be in the moment. Let’s deal with the now, and right now, that hasn’t happened . . . and it never will.”

  “I pray not.” Elle pushed a grin onto her face. “I need to go. I’ve worn out my five minutes, thirty minutes ago.”

  “Actually, an hour.” Sheila laughed. “But who’s counting?”