“Your mother wasn’t speaking to you when we got married the first time,” Rodney laughed. She smiled at his joke.
“What do we do?” Yvonne whispered.
“You know what I think?” Rodney asked.
“What?”
“I think we should get married again,” Rodney said. “Make a new vow.”
“And this one we won’t have to break?” Yvonne asked.
“This one we won’t have to break,” Rodney said.
“What about the . . . spider?” Yvonne’s face flashed with fear. “He tried to kill Tanni, always says he’s gonna do it . . . ”
Yvonne’s body shook with fear. When Rodney shifted to put his arm around her, she threw herself into his arms. Her whispered words were lost in their tight embrace. When he pulled back, she was whispering what she’d said when they came to take him to prison.
“Don’t go, please don’t go, don’t go, please don’t leave me, don’t go . . . ”
As if time bent in his mind, they were standing in the worn kitchen of their old house. This time, no police officer pulled him away. No police car waited to take him to jail. No phony trial was set up to convict him of a crime he didn’t commit. No solitary confinement and prison abuse was going to keep him from the only woman God put on this planet for him to love. As if all of the time between then and now had never passed, he was holding his Yvonne while she begged him not to leave her.
This time he was able to say: “I’m not going anywhere.”
Stunned, she jerked back to look at him. Her eyes scanned his face for a lie. He nodded his head.
“Now that’s something worth writing down,” she said.
She took off the cap of her strawberry pen and wrote with her left hand:
Rodney and I are getting married again and he’s not going anywhere.
She looked up and smiled at him.
“Smells like strawberry,” she said. “Tanni gets these for me like I’m a child. They always remind me of her so I don’t tell her that they’re a little . . . silly.”
Rodney smiled.
“Do you want to . . . you know?” Yvonne asked. “It’s okay.”
“I think we should wait until we’re married again,” Rodney said.
“We weren’t very good at that the first time,” Yvonne smiled.
“We were kids,” Rodney said. “We should wait until you want to. Do you want to?”
“Not really,” Yvonne said. “Is that okay?”
“That’s okay.”
“When are we going to get married?”
“Tomorrow?” Rodney laughed.
“We can’t get married tomorrow,” Yvonne said. “I don’t have a dress or flowers or . . . anything. Plus Tanni has school. I want her to be there. And her friends. Have you met them?”
Rodney nodded.
“She has some really nice friends,” Yvonne said.
“How ‘bout Saturday?” Rodney asked.
“That’s perfect!” Yvonne said. “Should we wake Tanni to tell her?”
“We should let her sleep,” Rodney said. “She had a terrible day yesterday.”
“Why? What happened?” Yvonne asked.
“She spent the day looking for you,” Rodney said.
“Huh,” Yvonne said. “One good thing about having a bad memory is that I don’t have to remember the bad days.”
“But you know yesterday was bad?”
“Yesterday was really horrible,” Yvonne sighed. “But it ended well. Look, you’re here and we’re in this nice place and . . . ”
Yvonne scowled.
“Do you have a girlfriend I need to kick out of your house?” Yvonne asked.
“No,” Rodney said. “I mean except you.”
“I’m not your girlfriend,” Yvonne tapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I’m your wife.”
“Even better,” Rodney smiled.
“We should rest,” she said.
She set her book down on the table, shut off the light, and laid down on the bed. He got up to go back to the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Sleeping on the floor,” he said. “Until we’re properly married.”
“Don’t be silly,” she flipped the covers back on the other side of the bed. “You belong with me.”
He got into the bed. Uncomfortable, he laid on his back as stiff as a board. Yvonne rolled onto her side and nestled into him. As if it had a mind of its own, his arm held her close. She sighed and he smiled.
He knew there would be trials ahead of them that he couldn’t imagine. But one thing he learned in prison was to hold onto the bright moments because life always held plenty of dark.
This was the best and brightest moment of his entire life.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday morning — 8:35 a.m. MT
“That’s him?” the Denver Police Detective’s Captain looked through the one way glass at State Attorney General Aaron Alvin. Alvin wore a smug expression and a matching designer suit. His lawyer looked like a well groomed pit bull ready to bite.
“And his lawyer,” Captain Ferguson said.
“You ready?” the Captain asked. He turned to two Denver Police Detectives. The older, taller detective nodded.
“Go get him,” the Captain said.
The younger detective went through the door first.
“It’s about time,” the lawyer said. “The Attorney General has a full schedule today. We’d like to get this matter settled so he can return to serving the state.”
The younger detective looked at the lawyer and blinked. He didn’t move to sit down nor did he say anything.
“We understand that you need to follow up on one of your detective’s lead,” the lawyer pulled a folder from his briefcase. “But you must know that Detective O’Malley bears a grudge against my client. The Attorney General solved one of the most egregious crimes in the state, something Detective O’Malley was unable to do.”
“Detective Seth O’Malley no longer works for the Denver Police Department.” The young detective kept his face blank.
“We are prepared to file a harassment suit against the Denver Police Department and Mr. O’Malley,” the lawyer said.
The older, taller detective entered the room and closed the door. He was wearing gloves and holding a small stack of Polaroid photos.
“Finally someone with some experience to tell us what’s going on,” the lawyer said.
One at a time, the detective set the photos Captain Ferguson found in the bear on the table in front of State Attorney General Aaron Alvin. For the briefest moment, the room was silent.
“You can’t possibly believe the word of a thoughtless whore,” Aaron Alvin said. “These photos were manipulated to . . . ”
“We thought you’d say that,” the younger detective said. “I met with our witness this morning.”
“And your witness is?” the lawyer asked.
“The child,” the older detective said. “She’s grown up.”
He took a set of photographs out of his pocket.
“Here’s a photograph of her arm where you burned it,” the young detective set down a photo of a scar on Tanesha’s arm. “You’ll see that her scar is in the exact location as your lighter in this photo.”
The young man set down photo after photo to match the older pictures.
“All except this one,” the older detective said. “But that doesn’t leave a physical wound.”
As if he’d been switched on, the lawyer began spewing legalese. The detectives watched Aaron Alvin’s entire being focus on the photographs. In one picture, there was a side view of Yvonne’s face as she fought to get Tanesha away from him. His thumb stroked her face. He looked up at the older detective.
“I want to make a deal,” he said.
Stunned, his lawyer stopped talking. The lawyer turned to stare at Alvin.
“Find someone who can make me a deal,” Aaron Alvin said. “I can give you names, dates, times, a
udio recordings, and some video of how business is really done in this state. Your Chief will become the man known for cleaning up the city and county of Denver, hell, the state.”
“You’re willing to give up all of that?” the older detective asked.
“For what?” the younger detective asked.
“Witness protection and . . . ” Aaron Alvin leaned over the photos. He pointed to Yvonne. “Her.”
Chapter Two Hundred and Ten
Freedom?
Thursday morning — 8:45 a.m. MT
“Where’s Sam?” a young black man said as he walked into the Lipson Construction trailer. The young man’s anxious eyes scanned the ten by twenty-five foot room.
“He’s meeting with Rodney,” Pete said.
“I’m supposed to meet with them.” The young man looked Pete up and down. “Who are you?”
“I’m Pete. I started as an Assistant Site Manager last week. I’m working on transportation.”
The young man nodded. Pete went back to work.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who I am?” the young man asked.
“You’re DeShawn Jones,” Pete said without looking up.
“And how do you know that?”
“You used to sell. I used to buy,” Pete said.
“I knew you looked familiar,” DeShawn said. “You clean?”
“Have you seen me around?” Pete asked.
“I ain’t . . . ” DeShawn cleared his throat. “I’m not in that life anymore. I did my time and . . . I worked here with Rodney until about six months ago. Me and another guy, Jason Payne. We were Rodney’s assistants until Jake asked that cracker . . . ”
“Nate Zalofsky?” Pete asked.
“Know him?”
Pete nodded.
“Jake asked, man, how could we say no? Jason went to work another site and I . . . Well, I’ve been at home.” When Pete didn’t comment, he added, “with my kids.”
“Lucky you,” Pete smiled. “I had a few months of that myself. I’d still be there but my kids didn’t love having me beg them to play with me.”
“We had a baby,” DeShawn said.
“Now I’m jealous.”
“Seriously though,” DeShawn said. “Do you have any felonies? I can’t be around anyone with felonies.”
“No,” Pete said.
“That’s very good,” DeShawn smiled. “Rodney called me this morning; asked if I’d come into help while he’s out. Rodney . . . I owe him . . . everything. He called; I’m here. That’s that. I guess Jason’s coming back too.”
“He was here when I got in,” Pete said.
“You know the plan?”
“The three of us are supposed to take Rodney’s place,” Pete said. “Sam will be the official Site Manager, but you know how busy he is. We’re supposed to keep him updated and we’ll meet with him every Saturday to go over everything. Bambi is going to work with us too.”
DeShawn nodded.
“Jason’s out with the subcontractors,” Pete said. “I do transportation. You’re supposed to manage the meetings and the money.”
“You going to tell them that I was your dealer?”
“I already did,” Pete said. “I’m not going to lie for you or anyone else. I told Rodney when he called.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that was good, because you could use my support again.”
“Rodney, man . . . ” Clearly moved, DeShawn shook his head. “You got to . . . You have to know that I’m going to need . . . ”
“An assistant,” Pete said. “Yes, Rodney told me you get overwhelmed and disorganized. I’m going to help keep you on track until we either hire an assistant or Rodney comes back.”
“You think he’s coming back?”
“Would you?” Pete asked. “You should see him. The man is smiling – ear to ear.”
“Rodney? Smiling?”
“It’s like a piece of his soul was returned to him.”
“And his woman, she was a . . . working girl?”
“Not any of my business,” Pete said. “He’s happy and that’s all that matters to me. They’re getting remarried on Saturday. I’m sure you’re invited. But right now, you’re late for a meeting.”
“Right.”
Pete gave him a pen and a clipboard.
“They’re walking the site,” Pete said. “You’ll see them.”
DeShawn nodded.
“Go.”
DeShawn looked at Pete.
“Now.”
DeShawn spun in place and was gone. Pete smiled to himself.
Out of nowhere, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. He’d just met his all-time best drug dealer and felt nothing. No cravings, no deep desire to use, nothing. He only felt one hundred percent gratitude for his life, his family, this job, and the sobriety which made everything all possible.
Nodding to himself, he got back to work.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday morning — 10:45 a.m. MT
Chatting with Yvonne, Dionne pulled her Cadillac sedan to the stop sign at Fillmore Street and 16th Avenue.
“Are you going to be all right this afternoon?” she turned around in her seat to look at Jeraine.
“You’re talking to me?” Jeraine asked. “I’m confused because I don’t think you’ve said a word to me all morning.”
“Don’t be like that,” Yvonne said from the passenger’s seat. “We’re catching up.”
“What did I tell you son? Don’t get in the way of a woman . . . ”
“. . . and her friends,” Jeraine said. “Yes, that advice serves me to this day.”
“I bet it does,” Dionne laughed.
“My Tanni has some good friends,” Yvonne laughed.
Jeraine laughed. He leaned forward to kiss his mother’s cheek. He gave Yvonne’s cheek a quick kiss for good measure.
“You’ll call if you get sick,” Dionne said.
“I’ll call,” Jeraine said. “Have fun.”
“Oh, we will,” Yvonne smiled.
Jeraine leaned back in the seat for a moment. Dionne watched him in the rearview mirror.
“Get out of my car,” Dionne said after a few minutes.
Laughing, Jeraine hopped out.
“Where do we go next?” Yvonne asked.
“We have a lot to get done!” Dionne said. “You need a dress and flowers and . . . You got Rodney’s credit card?”
“Tanni gave me one with her name on it,” Yvonne said. “And cash.”
“Good,” Dionne said. “I got Bumpy to agree that I should have anything I want.”
The back door to her sedan opened and Yvonne gave a startled yelp. Delphie slipped in the back followed by Maresol.
“Where are we going?” Delphie asked.
“We’re counting our funds,” Dionne said. “Ladies?”
“I have a card on Sam’s account,” Delphie said. “And Jake left a thousand or so dollars out for me. He said we might need it.”
“Pfft,” Maresol said. “I have my own card.”
Dionne and Yvonne turned to look at her.
“Which Seth pays,” Maresol laughed. They all laughed.
“What will we do with our riches?” Yvonne asked.
“We need dresses,” Delphie said. “But I was thinking . . . ”
“What?” Yvonne asked.
“I could use some yarn,” Delphie said.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Maresol said.
“Yvonne can’t knit anymore, Delphie,” Dionne said.
Delphie nodded to Yvonne.
“I learned to crochet with my left hand,” Yvonne said. “But it’s been the longest time since I’ve had some nice wool yarn and good friends to do knit with.”
“Maresol and I think we should re-start our knitting group,” Delphie said.
“Our children are grown,” Maresol said.
“And our men have money,” Dionne laughed.
“Would . . . I mean, can I . . . ?” Yvonne
’s eyes filled with tears at the idea that her friends might not want her in their knitting group. “I know you might be embarrassed to be . . . ”
Delphie laughed.
“You’re our inspiration,” Dionne said. “We’re just waking up to the fact that we are free women . . . ”
“Women who want to knit!” Delphie said.
“Knit?” Maresol laughed. “We’re gonna do whatever the hell we want.”
“On their dime,” Dionne laughed. “You know they wouldn’t have a red cent without us.”
“It’s true,” Maresol said.
Yvonne clapped her hands.
“Did you have lunch with Jeraine?” Maresol asked.
“No,” Yvonne said. “Dionne took me to get my hand looked at.”
“And?” Maresol asked.
“They think they can fix me. I mean, my hand,” Yvonne smiled. “But not right away, because I’m getting married and settled and stuff. I haven’t seen Rodney’s house yet or . . . I lost all my clothes and . . . ”
Overwhelmed, Yvonne’s voice trailed off. Dionne reached over to squeeze her hand.
“Great,” Delphie said. “Lunch, yarn and then . . . ”
“Wedding,” Dionne said.
“Valerie said her designer could make a dress for Yvonne,” Delphie said. “Plus, the designer brings a bunch of clothes with her. Yvonne’s so tiny. She could fit into almost anything. And Val needs a dress for the premiere of her action movie. We could play today and stop off at the Castle later . . . ”
“And get custom fitted with designer dresses?” Maresol asked. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Dionne said. “It’s been forever since I’ve had something really nice.”
“Me too. I’m wearing Tanni’s clothes,” Yvonne’s voice was soft and sad. She looked from one friend’s face to the next. “But . . . I’m free today and . . . ”
Yvonne beamed a smile.
“Let’s just have fun,” Yvonne said.
“I was thinking the Brown Palace for lunch,” Dionne said. “How does that sound?”
“I bet Sandy could fit us in to get our hair done,” Delphie said.
“That girl is always booked,” Maresol said.
“I have to schedule a month out,” Dionne said.
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