Role Play

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Role Play Page 23

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker


  “Bitch, is you high out of your mind again?”

  Wham!

  He knocked her against the back of the sink. She hit her head on the corner. Blood dripped from her temple. She pushed her way back up and into his face.

  He reared his hand back to go in for more.

  Ahhhhhhhhh!!!! He gripped his neck. Blood poured from between his fingertips. “B-Bev—” He reached for her. She was paralyzed; they all were. Nobody could move.

  His dead body hit the floor.

  Blood.

  Flesh.

  Tears.

  Screams.

  Handcuffs.

  Spatters of flesh and blood atop the stocking cap covering Bev’s head and dotted across her feet.

  “Lady, move!”

  “Did he touch you?”

  “You is what happens when generations of hoes get down in the gutters and turn tricks with dogs.”

  “You will never see your mama again!”

  “Brooklyn?”

  Jolted her out of her memory.

  Lorenz stood there, worry etched into the creases of his face. “Are you—are you okay?” She wiped her tears and rose from the floor. “How . . . did . . . you get in here?” She stood up and looked behind him.

  “The door was completely open. I called to tell you I would be working later than expected. All my calls went to voice mail. I got worried.” He squinted. “Tell me what’s going on?”

  “Tell you? For what? So you can dig around and see what else you can find?”

  He read her eyes and said softly, “What’s wrong?”

  “I can see it now. First Look Journal’s morning headline.” She waved her hands in the air as if pointing to the words. “ ‘Governor’s mistress found crying her heart out on the floor. More to come.’ Is that why you fucked me? Took me on a date? How’d you know that I wanted to go to the new museum? From spying on me? Huh? You thought I was the break you needed in your tired ass story about the governor, Mister Reporter?”

  He gasped. Fumbled for words. “Let me explain.”

  “I’m not going to let you do another thing up in here but leave.”

  “Brooklyn—”

  She continued, “On top of everything else I’ve been through today, I can now add stupid to the list—”

  “You’re anything but stupid.”

  “You know me that well? You’ve been watching me that long?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I just can’t believe this. Why does shit like this happen to me? I can never attract the good guys. Always some lyin’-ass bum,” she said more to herself than to him. “First Monty, and now I screw my way—literally—onto the evening news with your ass.”

  “Wait, slow down.”

  “Is that a demand?” She inched a brow.

  “No, of course not. I would never make a demand of you. I was saying, well, asking for an opportunity to explain. I know this looks bad. But—”

  “But? Anything behind but is bullshit.”

  “I did ask if the governor was your ex and you said no—”

  “I didn’t know you to tell you something like that!”

  “Listen, I’m not trying to make excuses—”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “I know I was wrong. I should’ve told you and allowed you to make a well-informed decision, but—”

  “Your dick was hard—”

  He sighed. “I really am sorry—”

  “Sorry? To hell with you and that sorry-ass sorry. And that whole story about your father? Was that shit fake too? You wanted us to be wounded together to get me to tell you shit—”

  “Hell no! Every word was the truth. Brooklyn, baby, let me—”

  “Let you? I’ve already let you into my home, where my child and I lay our heads. I never do that! That’s the shit my mother did and now you expect me to let you do some mo’ shit?!” Her throat tightened. She clenched her jaw. “Get. Out.”

  “Two minutes, please, to finish explaining.”

  “One minute.”

  “Listen, the night we met, I knew who you were, but I didn’t go there looking for you. I was there to check out a few leads that I had on the governor. That’s it. His wife’s fund-raiser was pretty much the last place I expected to ever see you. But you were there, and I was sitting at the bar. You walked over. I couldn’t resist. You were breathtaking. I had no idea that one thing would lead to another. And, baby, I’m so incredibly sorry that what was building between us, I ruined it, by not being straight-up with you. If I could do it all over again, I would make a better decision. But you have to know, the night we shared was true. No bullshit.”

  She lifted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and said, “That was about five minutes’ worth of bullshit. Now. Get. The. Fuck. Out. And don’t come back!”

  Chapter 52

  Monty

  Monty sat next to Dominic, in the back seat of his Escalade as his driver raced up the highway. He drifted into a five-year-old memory . . .

  “Councilman Fields,” Dominic said to Monty. “When we arrive at the fund-raiser, there are a few people you need to meet. The most important one is Stephen Himes. Mr. Himes is—”

  Monty completed his sentence, “One of the most powerful men in California. Among his many ventures is ICC, a very successful construction company on the West Coast, with a few offices on the East.”

  Dominic smiled. “You’re familiar with his work?”

  “Of course. ”

  “He reached out to me. He wants to make a considerable donation to your gubernatorial campaign as well as Each One Reach One. He says he supports most of your agenda and appreciates what your wife’s foundation stands for.”

  Monty’s brows lifted. “Most of my agenda?”

  “There are a few things here and there he’d like to suggest. Not too much, but having a man of his caliber agree with most of your agenda means you’re off to a pretty good start.”

  “Interesting.”

  “He’s very good friends with some pretty powerful people in Washington. Also the CEOs of Kutz Water Supply Company, Lento Waste Management, and Manuel Cable Company, as well as the presidents of NEA, SEIU, AFT, and the Teamsters. All powerful unions. And if we can get them to make sizeable contributions while throwing their support behind you, the governorship is in your back pocket.”

  “And we need Mr. Himes for that?”

  “You would want Mr. Himes to assist with that. He already has the connections. They all backed the last governor based on his word, and since she’s not running, and you are, the support of those powerhouses is up for grabs. And we need to go in for the taking.”

  “Agreed.”

  Dominic hesitated. “Bear in mind, if they back you, it’s favor for favor. But once you become governor, you decide what’s fair—”

  Monty gave a soft wink. “No worries, Dominic. I got this. Besides, all is fair in pussy and politics.”

  Monty and Dominic exited the Escalade and stormed into ICC. They bolted past the receptionist and into Stephen’s office.

  Stephen sat at his office desk, seemingly unimpressed.

  Monty spat, “I gave you port access. The contract to clean up the lead in Oakland’s water supply was given to KWS. I kept Xfinity contained so Manuel Cable Company would have a monopoly in the cities. Gave ICC first dibs on vacant warehouses and prime real estate, as well as the contract to build new schools and the opioid treatment center. But that wasn’t enough!” He pounded his fist on Stephen’s desk and leaned into him.

  Sal stood up. Dominic placed a hand on Monty’s shoulder. “Easy,” Dominic murmured.

  Monty snatched his hand away and leaned in closer.

  Stephen didn’t flinch.

  Monty continued, “And Carson being taken care of wasn’t enough. You had to go and knock off two of my fuckin’ aides the same day that I fire them? Do you know what kind of heat that will bring me?”

  “At 8:05 a.m. Sheldon Gonzales was at First Look Journal speakin
g with a reporter by the name of Lorenz Graham. Shortly after that, Rebecca Morris was with that same reporter, at some humdrum spot in Oakland. Do you know what they were talking about?” Stephen asked.

  Silence.

  “You,” Stephen continued. “You’ve been so off task and unfocused you don’t know what the fuck is going on. I told you to put the squeeze on your leaks, and instead you fire them and send them off headed straight for the media. What is wrong with you?” Stephen stood up. “Then you charge in here again like a superhero on stilts and steroids, challenging me? Governor or not, you’re lucky you are still breathing.”

  “Look—”

  “You have too many loose ends, so I had to tie ’em up. Now, this investigation—”

  “I’m not under investigation. That People for People—”

  “Was enough to get the DA’s attention, motherfucker. What’s really your problem, Montgomery?” Stephen paused, walked around his desk, and stood face-to-face with Monty.

  “Right now it’s you, motherfucker,” Monty spat. “I told you I had it. I didn’t need you to ax them.”

  “You think they were axed for you.” Stephen smirked. “I did what I had to do for me. Because I no longer trust you. Your head is so far up you side bitch’s ass that you can’t see nothing but shit. You better hope I don’t find out your weak ass has been running your mouth to her or—”

  “Don’t—”

  —it’s lights out for that bitch too. Every time I turn around, it’s one thing or another. You have lost complete control. Thankfully, with Rebecca and Sheldon gone, there’s no one to back up the reporter’s claims when they go to fact-check his story, which the publication will need or they’ll be sued. And the DA won’t have any whistleblowers to talk to. Now, tomorrow morning you will release a statement giving your condolences. Make sure you’re present at the services and cry if you have to.

  “You’re the governor, so you will be expected to do your job. Do it.” Stephen grabbed his briefcase from his desk. “And, Governor, make this the last time you barge into my office uninvited, because the next time I will not be kind.

  “Now, good night. Unlike you, I actually want to go home and be with my wife.”

  Chapter 53

  Lorenz

  Although it was midnight, First Look Journal’s newsroom was abuzz with eager reporters desperate to meet the deadline for tomorrow’s headlines. Lorenz did his all to shake his thoughts of what had just happened between him and Brooklyn. He hoped she would accept the delivery of two dozen roses and the singing telegram he’d arranged to be sent to her later this morning. He sat in his cubicle and picked up the phone to make a call.

  Brggg! Brggg!

  “Nick Raymond,” said the voice on the phone.

  “Nick,” Lorenz said. “It’s Lorenz, from First Look.”

  “Lorenz,” Nick whispered. “You know I shouldn’t be taking any calls from the media.”

  “And you know I never reveal my sources. Come on, Nick, you’re the pathologist down there. I’ve never dimed you out before; I wouldn’t start now. You know you can trust me. Tell me, did a Rebecca Morris come in?”

  “All I know is that whoever she pissed off wanted her so dead she wouldn’t come back for two lifetimes.” He paused. “You can’t quote me on this.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t need anyone knowing I spoke to you. The coroner would have my head. But I assure you, Rebecca Morris is dead. Actually, she’s deader than that. And she wasn’t killed in the car explosion.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He whispered, “Her body was burned but not destroyed. Keep in mind I have to do some blood work to estimate the carboxyhemoglobin, but my money’s on the bullet I found in the back of her head as the culprit for taking her out.” He paused.

  Lorenz waited for more.

  “Someone’s coming, I gotta go.”

  “Wait! What can you tell me about Sheldon Gonzales?”

  “Suicide. Two bullets in his head.”

  “Suicide?”

  “As in killed himself.”

  “With two bullets in the head? It only takes one. Did someone tell you to cite suicide as the cause of death?”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Wait.”

  “No—”

  “No—”

  Click.

  * * *

  Lorenz reached for his laptop and typed: MONDAY NIGHT MASSACRE. TWO AIDES FIRED IN THE MORNING. BOTH DEAD BY MIDNIGHT.

  “REBECCA MORRIS, 39, AND SHELDON GONZALES, 40, BOTH SERVED AS TOP AIDES TO GOVERNOR MONTGOMERY FIELDS

  Shit.

  He deleted it. Retyped it, then continued: MURDER

  Delete.

  ALLEGEDLY

  Fuck!

  ACCORDING TO A SOURCE

  Damn!

  He shook his head.

  A hammer pumped in his throat. He picked up a red rubber stress ball from his desk and squeezed it.

  Brooklyn . . .

  “Lorenz, Lorenz!”

  He blinked. A pencil waved before his face. He looked to his left. Sydney.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He blinked again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  She twisted her lips and pointed to her watch. “Then what the hell is the holdup? Do you see the time? I needed this story from you twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’m still piecing it together.”

  “How long does it take to write about two murdered aides?”

  “Allegedly murdered. We have no facts to support that, and no one who’s willing to go on record to back that up. Plus, I’m wondering if we need to interview a few more people before we run this. Maybe their family, friends, coworkers . . .”

  “That’ll be part two. Right now, we don’t need any of that.” Sydney took a seat on the edge of his desk and folded her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you tell me what the real problem is?”

  He shrugged. “It’s just that, or at least it seems, everyone who has told the truth about this governor ends up dead. And I don’t want me or anyone who I care about to be next.”

  Sydney hesitated. Lorenz could tell by the look on her face what he’d said concerned her. “Did someone threaten you?”

  “Not yet.”

  She shook her shoulders, as if flinging away a chill. “Then fuck them. We’re journalists, we chase the truth until that bitch gets tired and gives in. Then we publish it. And sometimes, when we think a political beat will be nothing more than taboo sex and powerful people being slaves to cigarettes we end up with this.” She pointed to his headline. “Now, finish.” She turned to walk away.

  “There’s something else,” he said behind her.

  She turned back. “What’s that?”

  “Remember Carson Young—” Lorenz asked.

  Sydney stroked her chin. “Umm, the guy who disappeared a few years back?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about him?

  “Before he disappeared, he and Rebecca were having an affair. She found one of his flash drives in an envelope marked with my name.”

  “Really? What was on it?”

  “A ship manifest. I showed it to my source down at the port and he confirmed its validity. He also told me that ICC has shipments that come in about four a.m. at least once a week, sometimes twice. And no one is allowed to unload their ships until two of the governor’s security officers arrive and give the all clear.”

  Sydney’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

  “Exactly. Why would they be doing that? They work for the governor, not ICC. Or is everybody working together? And if so, working on what? And what is really on that ship? It’s damn sure more than steel.”

  “You think the governor knows about this?”

  Lorenz frowned. “Hell, yeah. This has his grimy-ass name all over it.” He handed Sydney the manifest. “I think this was behind Carson’s disappearance. I also believe someone found out he had this information and the governor had him killed.”
>
  “Whoa, you can’t say that, not without proof.” She leaned into him and whispered, “Dead? You really think he’s dead? And that the governor . . . you know.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Proof? Anyone else besides you willing to go there?”

  “Not yet.”

  “We need that.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you have anything that we can print?”

  He picked up a packet from his desk and handed it to her. “In 2016, when the governor claims to have paid ICC to build the treatment center, but instead says he used most of the money for schools and some erroneous bullshit about Oakland’s water supply—”

  “Which only totaled two million dollars—”

  “Right. Leaving everyone questioning where the rest of the money was. Well, here’s where it really went: governor’s extravagant vacations, condos, brownstones, private school tuition, Each One Reach One.”

  “Holy shit.” Sydney scanned the budget, grabbed the calculator on Lorenz’s desk, and added the figures. “It’s the exact amount. Which would explain why there’s only a concrete foundation standing where a full-blown hospital should be . . . Which, by the way, construction is supposed to resume on tomorrow.”

  Sydney stepped away from Lorenz’s cubicle and shouted to a passing reporter, “George, I need you on the opioid treatment center first thing in the morning.”

  “You got it!” George agreed and continued to his desk.

  Sydney turned back to Lorenz.

  He continued, “Now, flip the page . . . check out the notes next to each company.”

  She flipped the page, read, then looked up at Lorenz. “Manuel Cable . . . is this the reason why so many low-income cities don’t have a choice when it comes to a cable company and why their prices are so goddamned high?” Before he could answer, she continued reading. “And why all of a sudden, after Fields took office, the water supply for an entire city was poisoned. Did the government do it? Then they switched to a company the city officials didn’t trust, but had no choice but to let them in because the water supply had to be cleaned up? And now the residents are paying more for water than they ever have.”

 

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