Role Play

by Tu-Shonda L. Whitaker

  One.

  Two.

  Elle looked around the room and didn’t recognize anything in sight. The walls were sky-blue, the furniture was dark mahogany, a glass desk sat near the door, and a picture of an old black couple hung on the wall.

  Am I dreaming?

  She snapped her eyes shut, pulled in a deep breath, then pushed it out.

  Opened her eyes.

  Same place.

  Elle scooted back. Clang!

  “Ouch!” She grabbed the back of her head. “Dammit!”

  Now she knew exactly where she was: Sheila’s.

  The hell am I still doing here?

  Elle tossed the covers off and hopped to the floor. She should’ve been here for a few hours only. Not all night and definitely not until the morning.

  Bzzzz

  Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was her assistant, Heather. “Good morning, Heather.”

  “Mrs. Fields.” Heather sounded panicked. “The FBI is everywhere! You need to get here right away!”

  “The FBI is what?”

  Heather freaked out, and Elle could barely make out what she said.

  “You have to calm down, Heather. Now, the FBI is where?”

  “Here. At the foundation. They said they have a search warrant. They are taking the files, the computers, everything! Hurry, please.”

  “I’m on my way!” Elle scrambled for her clothes and quickly dressed. Then she reached for her diamond wedding ring which sat on the nightstand.

  “Elle! Ellaina, do you hear me?” Sheila said, standing in the doorway.

  Elle turned to face her, and by the look on Sheila’s face, she’d called her one time too many. Sheila walked over to the bed holding a breakfast tray of warm strawberry jam, croissants, and two cups of steaming green tea.

  Her eyes dropped down to Elle’s feet, which she’d just slipped into her heels. “Where are you going? Who was that on the phone? You seem upset.”

  “My assistant just called me.” Elle’s voice trembled.

  “And?”

  “She said the Feds have executed a warrant—” Elle spun around. “Where are my keys? I have to go, Sheila.”

  “You don’t need to do that. Don’t leave, stay here with me and—”

  “Are you kidding me? Stay here with you? You are so incredibly selfish. I just told you about my foundation, and you want me to stay here with you? If anything, I need to get to my husband.” She spun around. “Where are my keys!”

  “Elle—”

  “Oh, dear God, Sheila, just stop. I was vulnerable last night. I needed a friend and I appreciate you being there for me, but, this . . . this little tantrum you’re revving up to throw, I don’t have time for this. Where is my purse—here it is.” She yanked it from the floor and jiggled it.

  Where the hell are my keys?!

  “Elle—”

  Elle didn’t respond. “Where the hell are my keys?” she said out loud to herself.

  “On the nightstand!” Sheila screamed.

  Elle turned around and there they were, next to the lamp and an empty bottle of Crown Royal.

  Sheila slammed the tray down on the desk, causing the green tea to spill over the rims of the cups. “Listen to me!”

  Elle shot her a look as she shoved her purse’s strap up on her arm. “I don’t want to hear it.” Elle’s stomach twisted. “I gotta get out of here!”

  Sheila pulled in a deep breath, “Elle—”

  Elle sighed, loudly. This was the only thing she hated about Sheila; she was too emotional. “You see that shit. That shit has always annoyed me!” She paused. Swallowed a mouthful of hurtful words and took a deep breath. “Like I said, Sheila. I have to go. We can meet for lunch one day this week, say Thursday, and discuss how you feel then.”

  Elle knew what she’d just said was cold, but she needed it to sting just enough for Sheila to back off, but not too much where she wouldn’t get out of here in peace.

  Sheila shouted, “Thursday! Fuck Thursday! We’re going to discuss this now! Right now!”

  Elle arched a brow.

  Sheila continued, “For starters, I’m not just some disposable slut that you can share all your secrets with and fuck whenever you want, then run out and leave me in the closet, waiting for the next time you want some pussy!”

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Elle tapped a foot. “Okay, Sheila,” she said, calmly, but with an edge. “That’s fine. Whatever you need.”

  “Whatever I need?! How dare you!”

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  Fuck that!

  “Are. You. Fucking. Crazy? Do you think I really want to be nagged into listening to your woe-is-me bullshit?! There are no victims here! How about this, go and get you a girlfriend! I’m spoken for!”

  Sheila shook her head. “You just want to keep living a double life!”

  Elle did her best to look indifferent and not show an ounce of the shock she felt from being called out. “If you will excuse me.” She placed a hand on Sheila’s shoulder to help her move out of her way. It didn’t work; instead Sheila brushed Elle’s hand away and said, “Fuck you!”

  “That’s something you obviously can’t handle.”

  Sheila let out a bark of laughter. “This is it. We’re done here. I will not be your pussy on call anymore.”

  Elle threw her arms into the air in defeat. “Well, you will not be my goddamn girlfriend, either! I have a husband. You know that. I have two sons. Which you are also aware of. And if you can’t handle that, then okay, let me go! Fuck it. You know everything I’m dealing with, and this is what you want to pile on my plate, really, Sheila! How thoughtful of you.”

  Elle brushed past her, and Sheila screamed behind her, “If you take your ass down there to that foundation, you will leave in handcuffs! You need to think. Stop being so naïve, and instead of looking for Monty, who I’m sure is somewhere fucking the state government up, you need to call your goddamn attorney!”

  Elle stopped in her tracks. Pulled in a thought then shook it off. “Good bye, Sheila.” She brushed past Sheila and out of the apartment. Elle raced to the parking deck and hopped into her car.

  “Hey Siri, read me my voice mails!” She had twenty-two, all from Monty.

  Shit!

  “Hey, Siri,” she spoke into her Bluetooth.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “Dial Monty.”

  “Dialing Monty.” Siri complied.

  After the first ring, his voice mail came on. “Governor Montgomery Fields, leave a message.”

  As she backed out of the parking space, she spotted a black Mercedes Sprinter. Her stomach flipped.

  Brggg! Brggg!.

  Her phone rang.

  Siri announced, “Sheila’s calling.”

  “Fuck Sheila!” Elle swiped reject.

  Brggg! Brggg!

  Sheila again.

  Reject.

  Brggg! Brggg!.

  “Mary calling.”

  Elle picked up. “Mary—”

  “Mrs. Fields, you need to come home right away. Please,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

  “What’s wrong? Is it the boys?”

  “No, they’ve already left for school.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just please hurry.”

  Click.

  Elle sped up the freeway.

  She reached her exit and made a right turn toward the security booth at the entrance of their gated neighborhood.

  She spotted a gridlock of police cars, FBI vans, and news media everywhere. There was even a pool of unfamiliar faces gathered around in protest.

  “Mrs. Fields!” Marlin, the guard who usually manned the security booth, ran over to Elle’s car.

  She lowered the window. Marlin leaned in and stared.

  “Marlin?” Elle waved a hand before his face.

  He blinked. “Mrs. Fields, I’ve been waiting for you.”

>   “Why? And why can’t I get up the street?”

  “You’re going to have to park here. There’s no way up the hill.”

  She parked the car and got out. “What’s going on here, and what’s wrong with you?”

  He stared, and swallowed. “I just need you to come with me.”

  “What the hell is going on?! What happened? I know something happened! Just tell me what it is!”

  Marlin didn’t answer. Instead, he ushered Elle into his security cart and sped to the top of the hill.

  There were twice as many police and reporters closer to the house. The neighbors had all spilled outside, wearing strenuous looks of concern.

  Marlin pulled into the driveway and someone yelled, “There she is, First Lady Fields!”

  A sea of reporters rushed over.

  Click! Flash! Snap!

  “Over here, Mrs. Fields!” Mary held the front door open.

  “Would someone tell me what’s going on here?!”

  A reporter shouted, “Mrs. Fields, over here, over here!”

  She turned around, and Marlin quickly turned her back toward him. “You can’t talk to them!”

  “Mrs. Fields!” A reporter came from behind.

  “What?” Elle managed to whip around before Marlin could twirl her again.

  “How do you feel?” the reporter asked.

  “About what?!” she screamed.

  Chapter 59

  Monty and Elle

  “Breaking News,” played in the background of Monty and Elle’s bedroom. “Coming to you live from KWGL News in Sacramento, this is Amy Wells, and I am standing across the street from the governor’s home, where an FBI raid is underway. Federal agents have also raided the offices of Each One Reach One, the foundation ran by the governor’s wife, Ellaina Lockhart-Fields.

  “As first reported by First Look Journal, shortly after midnight the Coast Guard and the FBI raided the seaport, seizing two ICC vessels carrying guns and counterfeit money. Twenty-five people have been arrested in connection with the raid. Two of them, Van Simmons and Paul Johnson, work closely with Governor Fields. It is believed the governor is home and may be escorted out by the FBI at any moment. No one from the governor’s office could be reached for comment.”

  “Governor Fields, good morning,” Federal Agent Patrick Shaw said as he took in Monty’s bedroom, then looked over to Monty.

  Monty’s eyes popped open wide as he fought to sit up straight. Coke dust outlined his nose, a hundred-dollar bill jutted from his right nostril, and lines were spread out before him on the nightstand. He snorted. Looked over to the door and took in the silver-bearded agent and the three men behind him—all dressed in tan Dockers and navy-blue FBI jackets.

  Agent Shaw walked deeper into the room, his men in step behind him.

  “Monty!” A panicked voice came from the door.

  He knew it was Elle. He flicked his nose and said, “Let my wife in.”

  Agent Shaw nodded in agreement, and the men stepped to the side. Elle rushed into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding, her eyes unable to settle on anything in particular. She bit the inside of her cheek, and the jolt of the pain forced her to focus on her husband.

  She snatched the money from Monty’s nose and tossed it into his lap. She sat in disbelief and watched the agents search the room. With each unwelcome step the agents took, electricity pricked her skin and a hard drum beat a rhythm in her ears. “Where’s the warrant?” Elle pressed.

  Agent Shaw waved it before Elle, then laid it over Monty’s lines of coke.

  The agents continued to search. One agent picked up Monty’s laptop while two searched through the closet; one walked out with Monty’s safe, and the other held two boxes in his hand. Another agent searched the dresser drawers.

  After gathering the evidence, Shaw said to his agents, “It looks like you’re done with your search in here. Join the other men downstairs and search the home offices. I need to speak with the governor—”

  Elle interjected, “My husband has nothing to say to you, not until he speaks to his attorney.”

  “Good idea,” Agent Shaw said. “Perhaps you should call him.”

  “I called her on my way here.”

  “Great. Now call yours.”

  Silence.

  Agent Shaw continued, “Have you looked out the window, Governor?” Shaw walked over to the window and pulled the drapes back. Blinding sunshine filled the room.

  Monty snorted.

  “The media is all over this. What do you think the morning’s headlines will be?”

  More silence.

  Shaw continued, “I’m guessing it will be, ‘Governor Montgomery Fields the Third, busted high as a kite and snorting lines from a brick of cocaine’—unless of course you tell us what we need to know.”

  “All the FBI does is lie, do you see me high? Can you prove that?” Monty snapped.

  “And he didn’t have a brick,” Elle added.

  “The media will say he did,” Agent Shaw insisted.

  “And why would they say that?” Elle asked.

  “Because that’s what will be leaked to them, along with the governor’s positive toxicology results. Come on, you know how this goes, don’t you, Governor? Someone leaks just enough to send the press into a frenzy. But you can get in front of the story and control the narrative if you cooperate. Now, Governor, what happened to Sheldon Gonzales and Rebecca Morris?”

  Silence.

  Agent Shaw continued, “Why did you fire them?”

  No answer.

  “Governor, last night we arrested twenty-five men, two of whom were your security officers. Why were they there?”

  Nothing.

  Agent Shaw continued, “Tell me, why would two of the governor’s men unload an ICC vessel containing illegal guns and counterfeit money?”

  “Ask them,” Monty spat.

  “I did,” Agent Shaw responded.

  “Then what the fuck are you asking me for?”

  “Because they said they were following your orders.”

  “Lies.”

  Agent Shaw continued. “What is your real connection to ICC? And where is Carson Young?”

  “How would my husband know that?” Elle snapped.

  “The night Mr. Young disappeared, he was going to meet with you, Governor.”

  “That’s a lie,” Monty interjected.

  “A young man with a promising career and a family who loved him just disappears into thin air? I don’t think so,” Agent Shaw said.

  “What kind of witch hunt is this shit?” Monty snapped.

  “This is far from a witch hunt, Governor. Where’s your friend Stephen Himes, because we’re looking for him too. Unless, of course, you’re running this operation yourself.”

  “This is highly inappropriate,” Elle said.

  The bedroom door opened, and Monty’s attorney stepped into the room. She stood at the door, wearing a gray pantsuit and heels, with her dreadlocks pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck and a dark brown leather Louis Vuitton briefcase in her hand. She strutted over to Agent Shaw, held out her hand, and said, “Kassie Francis, the governor’s attorney.” She nodded a hello to Monty and Elle. She looked over to Agent Shaw, and said, “Where’s the warrant?”

  “Right there.” Shaw pointed.

  Monty handed Kassie the warrant. She glanced at the coke, looked up at Monty, then to the warrant.

  “You see how unethical that bullshit is, Kassie?” Monty spat.

  Agent Shaw let out a bark of laughter and pointed to the coke around Monty’s nose. “Are we really going to discuss ethics in here?”

  “Wipe your damn face,” Elle mumbled.

  Monty swatted at his nose.

  Kassie said, “Agent Shaw, I need to speak to my client alone.”

  “Sure, once he’s read his rights and we take him downtown—”

  “Agent Shaw, be reasonable. He’s the governor of California—”

  “That�
��s not a get-out-of-jail-free card. He’d have to be the president of the United States for that.”

  Kassie continued, “Please allow me to bring him in. He will turn himself in, but there is no way you can walk the sitting governor outside in handcuffs.”

  “I can and I will.” Agent Shaw looked over to Elle. “And don’t think you’re off the hook.”

  Kassie interjected, “Are you threatening Mrs. Fields, Agent? Do you have a warrant for her arrest?”

  “Not yet. But it’s coming.”

  “When it comes let us know, but for now, back to the governor. I’m asking you to please allow us to meet you at your office.”

  Agent Shaw hesitated. “I tell you what. Get him together, clean him up, and be at my office in one hour.” He stood up and walked toward the door, then turned back around. “Ms. Francis, I need you, the governor, and Mrs. Fields to hear me on this: I have enough evidence to put him away for a very long time. Therefore, if I were you, I’d advise him not to add perjury to the list of charges.”

  Chapter 60

  Monty

  “Hold your head up a little higher and look directly into the camera,” the processing officer at the FBI office said to Monty as he stood against a white sheet while holding a small black metal board before his chest, with the number 567348 pressed into it. “Look straight ahead into the camera.”

  Click! Flash!

  The processing officer continued, “Please turn to the left, Mr. Fields.”

  Click! Flash!

  “Now to the right.”

  Click! Flash!

  “Straight ahead again.”

  Click! Flash!

  “Thank you.” The processing officer took the metal board from Monty’s hands and escorted him over to his attorney.

  “I will do all of the talking,” Kassie said as she and Monty walked down the hall to Judge Callahan’s chambers.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Kassie and Monty said simultaneously as they entered the mahogany-paneled office. The judge sat behind his desk, his secretary sat to his right, the prosecutor, John Raymond, sat in a chair facing the judge, and a sheriff’s officer stood near the closed door.

  The judge began, “Ms. Francis, you have informed us that your client wishes to plead not guilty to the following charges: conspiracy, money laundering, misuse of campaign funds, and mail fraud. Is that so, Mr. Fields?”