by Emery, Lynn
“Anthony didn't do anything. Lonnie sent his punks after T'aneka because she gave you those invoices. Shantae says you broke up with him.” Dominic studied her face.
“You just concentrate on getting well and forget this other garbage. Shantae talks too much.” Michelle drummed her fingers, annoyed at her friend.
“Don't fuss at her. I nagged until she told me the whole story. Chelle, just the look on your face when his name is mentioned tells me you still love him like crazy. Don't you put him on trial, too.”
“I promise to think about it.”Michelle was touched by the concern in his eyes. She gently pushed him back against the pillows. “Now get your rest.”
Later at home in bed, Michelle tossed about for an hour before deciding to give up trying to sleep. Thoughts of Anthony, Ike and Marcus chased around her head keeping her alert and edgy. She decided to review her notes and research. Michelle spent the night piecing together all she knew about Charlotte Kinchen, Ike, Buster, and James Bridges. None of it led to Anthony. Michelle fingered the sheets of paper in front of her. At least she knew with certainty that Anthony was not a criminal. That was something. But the gulf between them was still too great. How could he ever forgive her for doubting him? Michelle pushed the mound of newspaper clippings aside to uncover her cordless phone. Though they would never be together, she could at least help get at the truth.
***
“You sure you don't know anything 'bout where he is?” Lonnie spoke in an even tone. He sat in the chair across from her desk watching her face carefully.
“How many times are you going to ask me that?” Charlotte snapped.
“Seems strange he ain't tried to call or see you. He was hot for you.”
“James may not be the brightest man in the world, but he's not a complete idiot. I think he suspected I was seeing someone else.” Charlotte chewed the eraser of the pencil she held. “He acted kind of distracted the last time we... saw each other.” Gripping the pencil tightly, she shot a guarded look at Lonnie.
“Humph, took the sucker long enough.” Lonnie shrugged.
Charlotte's shoulders relaxed. “Ike could be hiding him. He's certainly has a lot to lose if James talks.”
“Ike does seem to be playin' it mighty cool now that you mentioned it. Maybe I oughta pay him a visit,” Lonnie grumbled.
“I'll save you the trip.” Ike pushed the door to Charlotte's office shut with a bang. “You got somethin' you wanna ask me?”
“Yeah. Matter of fact I do.” Lonnie rose from the chair to face him. “Got any ideas where to find your pal, Bridges?”
“No. What else?” Ike stood with his legs apart and both hands on his hips.
“Now why do I find that kinda hard to believe?” Lonnie's nostrils flared. His gaze raked Ike from head to toe aggressively.
“Because you're an ignorant fool who ain't got sense enough to conduct business without lettin' the police know your every move,” Ike said with a growl. “Course I was stupid for not seein' that. After all you been in and out of prison so many times, they got a uniform embroidered with a permanent number just for you.”
Lonnie snarled like an enraged pit bull. He launched across the room clutching for Ike's throat. Ike jabbed his fist into Lonnie's mid-section with one quick motion, then drove it into his chin knocking him against the far wall. Ike kicked him twice in the side when he tried to stand.
“Oh my God!” Charlotte cowered in a corner trying to get as far from them as she could.
“Get up!” Ike bellowed at Lonnie. “Get up, I said!”
A group of large men rushed into the room.
Lonnie struggled to his feet coughing painfully. He grimaced with the effort to stand straight.
“I kept telling him we don't know where James is, Ike.” Charlotte stood close to Ike looking at Lonnie with dispassionate eyes. She placed a hand on Ike's forearm.
“You back stabbing bitch,” Lonnie growled through swelling lips.
“You're fired. Charlotte, take care of the paperwork. Of course, your parole officer will have to be notified.” Ike nodded to the men. Two of them moved forward and grabbed Lonnie's arms.
“This ain't over,” Lonnie yelled at them as he was dragged from of the room.
“You better hope it is, fool,” Ike said in a rough dangerous voice.
***
“Thanks for coming.”Michelle gave LaWanda a hug after closing her front door.
Lawanda strolled in and took a seat. “Girl, you know I'm gonna help you. Besides, you just crazy enough to bring your silly butt back over to the project.”
“The tenants group members had anymore problems? I've been out of touch what with spending time with my brother and not being at Channel Twelve anymore.” Michelle handed her a diet soda.
“Nah, child. We got security patrols now. The big boys from HUD in D. C. showed up a few weeks ago. They hired a group of the men who was unemployed as security guards. It's workin' out nice. They get a salary for it and doin' simple repairs, too. Besides, the cops put some heat on them gangsters.” LaWanda chuckled. “They got more than us to worry 'bout these days.”
“And how's little Relondo?”
“Honey, that little rascal actin' almost like nothin' happened, praise the Lord.” LaWanda waved a hand in the air.
“Amen.” Michelle smiled thinking of the brown bundle of energy darting around the apartment.
“Speakin' of you not bein' at Channel Twelve, that really sucks. We all know you didn't make none of that up. And we told it to that Gerald Mansur, too.” She nodded at Michelle before taking a sip.
“Say what?” Michelle's eyes went wide with astonishment.
“Sure did. Candy and me went to see the man the day after we found out. Told him in no uncertain terms what we thought about his funky ol’ station not standing behind you.” LaWanda shrugged in apology. “Sorry they didn't listen and give you your job back.”
“Hey, I appreciate the show of support. You folks are something else.” Michelle felt good knowing how much others were behind her. She sat forward eager to begin the real work of tracking down clues that would lead them to the men responsible for the attacks on Dominic and Relondo. “Tell me what you know about the Park Boulevard Posse.”
“You mean Tia and her boys? They deal outta the projects over there. They run drugs, guns, do burglaries, you name it.”
“Ever hear of Marcus Batiste?”
“Yeah, Ike Batiste son. Word is he's goin' with Tia. Little criminal started workin' at the Authority and fell right in with them. Lonnie Mason got his gang, too. But I hear him and Tia's gangs on the verge of a showdown. See Lonnie thought he was in charge. Now he's findin' out Tia's been pullin' the strings all along. She just let him think he was top dog. Fit her plans, see what I'm sayin'?” LaWanda sat back and crossed her legs.
“How do you know all this?” Michelle shook her head in amazement.
LaWanda laughed. “Honey, the grapevine in the projects is better than any twenty-four hour news channel.”
“Then tune me in. I want to know everything.”
Michelle got a note pad from the dining room table. For over two hours, she made notes furiously while LaWanda outlined the intricate pecking order of the gangs, beginning with how they got started.
***
For the next three days, Michelle divided her time between the radio station and chasing down facts surrounding the Park Boulevard Posse, Lonnie Mason, and the sinister connections both had with the parish Housing Authority. What she found was alarming. Not even LaWanda and her friends knew the extent the gangs controlled life in the projects. Lonnie had a group of ex-cons loyal to him. They organized a crime syndicate of petty thieves and drug dealers into a wide network with branches in all of the large projects. Tia's gang was mostly young people who had grown up in public housing. A battle for control seemed inevitable. The Park Boulevard Posse was showing signs of resentment at being ordered around by Lonnie's gang.
Michelle was ready
to begin using this material for a series of reports on crime. The station manager at WDUP had given her the green light for a news series. She spent hours writing and re-writing the first report. Once it was finished, she asked Earl and Gracie to critique it. They sat in a nearly deserted sandwich shop late one afternoon. The three met regularly for lunch to share opinions, and insider tips, and good old-fashion gossip. They took turns choosing where to meet. Poor Boy Pete's was always Earl's pick. Earl scanned the pages spread in front of him while Michelle tapped one foot nervously.
“Well?” Michelle could hardly sit still as she watched his brows draw together in concentration.
Earl swallowed a portion of his sandwich. “Needs something else.” He gazed up at the ceiling.
“What?”Michelle leaned over to peer at the report.
“Tabasco sauce.” Earl reached for the bottle.
Michelle groaned in frustration. “Can you please think about something other than your bottomless belly?”
“He's obsessed with food. That means Cheryl has them on another diet,” Gracie tittered.
“My wife is now on an organic vegetarian kick. We can only shop at this health food store.” Earl swallowed.”I feel like Bugs Bunny with all the leaves I've been gnawing on lately.”
“Well, she's just trying to keep you healthy. That greasy meal certainly isn't good for you.” Gracie pointed to the mound of curly fried potatoes on his plate.
“Excuse me, but could we get back to this?” Michelle waved her notes in the air.
Gracie pushed her empty salad plate aside. “You should get a police interview and some crime stats on the projects for the past two or three years.”
“Yeah. Maybe start out with that instead of the tenants view point?” Michelle took a sip of seafood gumbo from the small cup in front of her.
“No,” Earl broke in. “You had the right idea starting out with that. It’s the human interest angle that hits home with the audience. But put them together for a stronger effect.”
Michelle snapped her fingers. “I've got it. I could say something like the tenants concerns are supported out by the crime figures in the projects.” Michelle scribbled in the margins of the page. She finished a sentence with a flourish. “Perfect.”
Gracie cleared her throat. “Michelle, did you find out anything about Anthony?”
“No. So far nothing connects him to the drug deals or the rest of it.” Michelle stared down into her gumbo, stirring it slowly.
“So the guy is innocent? Good deal, right? No reason you can't get back together.” Earl looked at her.
“It's not so simple.” Michelle did not look up.
“Remember the story she did on his uncle?” Gracie jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Don't bring that up,” she whispered close to his ear.
Earl flinched. “Ouch! I mean... oh yeah. But anyway this is good work you've done tracking down the scoop on those crooks.” He kicked Gracie's foot with his in retaliation causing her to jump.
“Oww! I mean, great work, Michelle. Every bit as good, better even, than the series at Channel Twelve.” Gracie nodded.
“Thanks. Now quit beating up on each other.” Michelle squinted at them through her bangs. “Do I have `Fragile- Handle with Care' stamped on my face?”
“Don't blame me.” Earl shot Gracie a cutting look.
“It's just that you've been through the ringer lately. What with your brother getting assaulted and you being suspended from work,” Gracie said.
Michelle squeezed her hand. “Thanks, but things are looking up. Dominic is on the mend, and I'm not suspended anymore.”
“When did Lockport tell you?” Earl sat back with a surprised expression.
“For real? Fabulous. When are you coming back?” Gracie stared at her wide eyed.
“Lockport didn't tell me anything,” Michelle said to Earl. “And I'm not going back.” Smiling, she looked at them both. “I quit. Turned in my resignation letter yesterday and left it with his secretary.”
Gracie gasped. Earl let out a long whistle.
“I've sold three freelance articles already. And WDUP is going to do an early morning talk show. Steve wants me to be the host.” Michelle beamed with pride.
“You've got guts. Go on with your bad self.” Earl winked at her.
“I'm thrilled for you,” Gracie said. “I can't wait to see the look on Jennifer's face when I tell her you've got your own show.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“Okay, but I get to spoil Jason's day.” Earl grinned impishly.
“You two are worse than teenagers planning a practical joke.” Michelle laughed.
***
Michelle worked at the radio station reading news briefs and lining up guests for the talk show for the rest of the day. She was happy at least with her career. Being in control was frightening and exhilarating. Frightening because she did not have the security of a regular paycheck. Yet the challenge of setting her own course gave her a charge she had never experienced before. With a much smaller income now, Michelle learned to adjust her spending habits down. But she did not mind at all. The future looked bright. More opportunities were opening up all the time with help from friends. Michelle sat in her office totally oblivious to everything as she sorted through stacks of articles looking for ideas to develop for the talk show.
“Hello, Michelle.”Dosu stood in the open door smiling. The dark, gray suit was impeccably tailored. “How have you been?”
Michelle gave him a welcoming hug. “Fine. It's so good to see you. What have you been up to lately? How did you know I was here?” She grabbed a chair and pulled it next to her own.
“Steve is a good friend of mine. As for what I've been doing; a great deal of travel really. I've just come back from St. Thomas. You would have loved it.” Dosu smiled revealing ivory teeth set against dark chocolate skin. “I would have invited you if not for...” his voice trailed off.
“I've been very busy working.” Michelle said a little too sharply. She squirmed under his amused gaze.
“Michelle, who do you think you're deceiving?”
“Anthony and I are no longer seeing each other.” Michelle tried to keep her tone matter of fact. She rearranged items on an already neat desk.
“You may be apart physically, but not in your hearts.” Dosu wave a hand in the air. “An old African proverb says--”
“Dosu, please,” Michelle cut him off. “Can we talk about something else?”
Dosu smiled benignly. “Fine. So how is the news game? You do not miss being before the camera?”
Michelle sighed. She could not deny the excitement of a live news broadcast was a big part of why she loved television reporting. “It was an adjustment. The hard part is all the pitying looks I get from colleagues. They see it as a big come down.”
“What about you?”
“I'm too busy working to feel sorry for myself. Besides, all I have to do is quote the demographics for WDUP. I get a kick out of seeing their faces. The audience of young, working African-Americans listening to our blend of rap and urban contemporary music equals the size of the audience tuning into the five o' clock news on Channel Twelve every day,” Michelle bragged.
“Yet as you say, it is a big change.” Dosu inclined his head. “If you need help financially you have only to ask.”
“No thanks,” Michelle said quickly. “I'm doing okay. I'm in no danger of being homeless and hungry.” She smiled at him with fondness. “You're sweet to offer though.”
“Where do you go from here?”
“Things are looking up. I've gotten stories printed in a couple of magazines and my own show here.”
Dosu studied her for a moment as if reading her innermost thoughts.”Then why is there a hint of sadness in your voice?”
“Well, I don't like the way I left Channel Twelve for one thing. I didn't falsified those reports.” Michelle felt the same outrage as the day Lockport suspended her.
“Anyone who knows you wou
ldn’t believe that,” Dosu reassured her.
“And I intend to clear my name.” Michelle's eyes narrowed at the thought of how she had been set up.
“No doubt you will.” Dosu favored her with a confident nod. His expression became grave. “I understand your Anthony is also under a cloud of suspicion. A most deadly suspicion of murder.”
“Yes. There's a grand jury looking into it.” Michelle bit her bottom lip.
“He may be indicted for the death of an employee and trafficking in cocaine.” Dosu rubbed his chin. “A very bad business.” He glanced at Michelle from the corner of her eye.
“Yes.” Michelle's face became pinched with gloom. “It looks very bad.”
“You believe these accusations?”
“No,” Michelle blurted. She blushed under his questioning gaze. “And not because of our... history. The whole deal smells of a set up, too.”
“But the proceedings are secret. Maybe they have strong evidence against him.” Dosu nodded. “Why else would he be a target?”
“That doesn't mean a thing! An accusation is not proof of guilt.” Michelle said, her voice hot with indignation.
“Such fervor in your words. You still care for this man deeply.” Dosu held up a hand to forestall her denial. “It is all over your face, Michelle.
Michelle exhaled slowly. Her jaws muscles tightened with irritation. “Dosu, you have a most annoying way of--”
“Hitting the nail on the head?” Dosu gazed at her with affection. “Don’t be angry with me. I won't point out the truth anymore.”
The phone on her desk rang before she could retort. “Hi, Earl.” Michelle listened for a few moments. “I'm on my way.” She grabbed her large bag throwing an extra note pad into it. “The grand jury's findings are going to be announced at a press conference in fifteen minutes.”