by Shelly Ellis
“Skylar, just listen to me.”
“No! Leave me alone! All of you just leave me the fuck alone! Get out or I’ll—”
She stopped when the bedroom door swung open. Ricky turned to find one of the bodyguards and T. J. standing in the doorway. The bodyguard stared at him quizzically while T. J. glowered.
“What the hell is all this noise, man?” T. J. said in a harsh whisper. “Folks can here this bitch yelling all the way downstairs.”
Ricky put his “Pretty Ricky” mask back on. He shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know. Ask her! I came in here to fuck and she went off. She just started screaming for no damn reason.”
T. J.’s glower shifted from Ricky to Skylar who was cowering on the bed with her head bowed. His lip curled as he charged toward her.
“What the fuck we tell you, bitch? What the fuck you think happens when you act up? Huh?”
Skylar began to whimper.
T. J. raised his hand, like he was about to slap her. “I’ma knock the shit outta—”
Ricky caught him mid-swing, grabbing T. J.’s wrist before the blow landed. “Don’t do that.”
T. J. stared up at him in amazement but the shock quickly coalesced into fury. “What, nigga?” he said, tugging his wrist out of Ricky’s grasp.
“I said don’t do that. Don’t hit her. That shit ain’t necessary.”
T. J. seemed to be struck silent for a moment but he quickly regained his voice.
“Who the . . . who the fuck are you to tell me what’s necessary and what ain’t? Don’t you ever touch me again in your fucking life, nigga, or I’ll put you in a grave and have your mama cryin’!” He pulled up his shirt and revealing the Glock tucked in his boxer briefs. “You feel me?”
Ricky didn’t respond. He was carrying tonight too, but having a shootout with T. J. wouldn’t solve anything. He could get killed. Skylar could get killed. What was the point? So instead, he glared right back at the younger man, not backing down. Finally, the standoff ended and T. J. turned away from him. He stalked back to the bed and out of childish spite, gave Skylar a hard shove that sent her sprawling across the mattress.
“You keep the noise down, bitch, and don’t let me have to come back up here!”
“But . . . but I’m sick,” she cried.
“You bitches always sick!” T. J. glanced over his shoulder at Ricky and waved him off. “Just get the fuck out of here. This bitch is useless as fuck. You ain’t getting your dick sucked tonight!”
Ricky gazed at Skylar one last time then turned and walked out of the bedroom.
Chapter 15
Jamal
Jamal checked the contents of the manila envelope before sealing it, tucking it under his arm, and stepping out of his office into the waiting area.
“Heading to lunch?” his secretary chirped to him as he passed her desk.
Jamal nodded distractedly. “Uh, yeah. I . . . I should be back by one though,” he replied before continuing into the hall.
“Enjoy!” she called after him.
He was finally going to do it. After debating with himself for weeks over what to do with the information he had gathered about Mayor Johnson, he had decided to hand it all over to the Phillip at the Washington Recorder.
Phil will know what to do, he reassured himself as he boarded the elevator that would take him to the lower level.
Jamal had decided to at least partially follow Derrick’s advice: he would mail the contents anonymously. He would drive to a mailbox far away from the Wilson Building and, hopefully, make it almost impossible for anyone to trace it back to himself. He didn’t know what the fallout would be once the story was published. Would Mayor Johnson get arrested? Would other people within his administration also face charges for corruption? Would everyone think Jamal was guilty by association? After all, he was working for the man and had been appointed by him.
These scenarios all seemed like strong possibilities, but despite what the blowback could be, he couldn’t keep this on his conscience any longer. He had to be rid of it.
Jamal exited the elevator and stepped onto the lower level that overlooked the Wilson Building’s gallery. He paused when he reached the top of the staircase.
He saw about thirty or so school children, all in identical yellow T-shirts with bobcats on the front. They milled about at the bottom of the steps, staring slack-jawed at city hall’s high ceilings, at the way the light from the overhead windows played off of the stonework. Their young, jubilant voices rose up several floors, filling the gallery with their laughter and squeals.
Normally, he would have found their eager interest cute, even endearing. He’d get the same warm feeling he got when he watched Hallmark commercials—but Jamal wasn’t in the squishy kind of mood today. He had a heavy task ahead of him, and he had to be on his way before he lost his nerve.
Jamal walked down the flight of stairs, pasting on a polite smile, and prepared to excuse his way through the crowd of children to reach the glass doors on the other side of the gallery. But he halted again when he saw a woman rushing across the marble tiles, holding the hands of two kids. Both children were running to keep up with the woman’s long strides.
When Jamal saw her, his heavy mood instantly lightened and the manila envelope tucked beneath his arm was momentarily forgotten.
“All right!” Melissa shouted, swinging her head from right to left, surveying the space and the children in it. The movement made her long braids whip around her shoulders. “Everyone line up! Straight line, kids. Terrell, stop that, please!”
She then dropped the children’s hands and said something to another woman standing near the staircase.
Watching Melissa, he felt a stirring in the pit of his belly that he always felt when he caught a glimpse of her.
“Lissa!” he called out and she snapped up her head and looked toward the staircase. Her dark eyes crinkled up at the sides as she grinned.
“Jay, hey!” she said, waving at him.
“Didn’t expect to see you here today.” He walked down the last of the stairs and stepped onto the tiled floor.
“It was a last-minute replacement field trip. We were going to take the kids to the old city hall, but found out that it’s undergoing renovations so,” she shrugged, “here we are.” She looked at the children who surrounded her. “Boys and girls, I would like you to meet Jamal Lighty. He’s the deputy mayor of the city. Jamal, meet our fourth grade class and my teaching assistant, Mrs. McKenna.”
Jamal didn’t have the heart to correct her and tell her he didn’t go by his first name anymore. Honestly, telling Melissa that he had changed his name to Sinclair seemed a tad bit embarrassing, like he was a fake or trying to put on airs.
“You are a fake who’s putting on airs,” a voice in his head chided.
“Please to meet you guys,” he said, looking at her students. “Welcome to the Wilson Building!”
“You’re the mayor of D.C.?” one kid gushed, staring up at him, wide-eyed. “That’s so cool!”
Jamal cleared his throat. “No, I’m the . . . the deputy mayor. It’s sort of like the mayor’s assistant. I work for Mayor Johnson and handle some tasks for him.”
The kid looked a little disappointed, but the rest nodded thoughtfully.
“What does a deputy mayor do?” another kid shouted—a little girl with braids, wearing glasses.
“Do you get a bodyguard?” another kid called out to him.
“You get paid a lot of money?” a boy yelled.
Jamal chuckled, amused by their deluge of questions. “Well, uh . . . a deputy mayor is—”
“Kids,” Melissa said, cutting him off, “Mr. Lighty is a very busy man. We don’t want to bombard him with questions and slow him down.” She turned to him and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jay. We’re probably keeping you from doing whatever you were about to do. I didn’t mean to disrupt your morning.”
He hesitated, remembering the envelope beneath his arm. Now, standing in f
ront of her, his sense of urgency began to wane. His resolve began to falter. He told himself he could always mail the package to Phillip later today.
And if not today, maybe tomorrow, Jamal reasoned.
“Actually, my schedule is completely open! I’d be happy to answer your students’ questions.” He looked at the children. “I’ll even give you guys a VIP tour of the building.”
Excited squeals filled the gallery again, but Melissa’s smile disappeared. She furrowed her brows.
“Jay, you don’t have to do that,” she whispered, leaning toward him.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
She stared at him a few more seconds before finally nodding and gesturing toward him. “Lead the way!”
* * *
For the next hour, he dutifully took the kids on a tour of the building, pointing out the architectural details and telling them about D.C. government and its functions. Several of the kids “oohed” and “ahhed.” The ones who got bored and stopped paying attention, Melissa and her assistant quickly corralled, holding their hands and dragging them along.
He ended the tour at the indoor food court next door where the kids would have lunch.
“Can I treat you?” he asked Melissa. “You have your choice between such fine dining establishments as McDonald’s, Taco Bell, and Panda Express.”
Melissa giggled, making his chest go warm. “Hey, I’d never turn down a free meal!”
He bought their food and they sat at one of the tables adjacent to those crowded with Melissa’s students.
“Thanks for having lunch with me,” he said, removing the paper wrapping from his taco.
“No, thank you for treating me to lunch and taking us on the tour!” She reached over her bowl of orange chicken and lo mein and gave his hand a quick squeeze, making his pulse accelerate. “That was so sweet of you, Jay.”
He lowered his eyes to the tabletop. “It was no problem. Really.”
“I still feel like we interrupted your day though. You didn’t even get to mail that letter you’ve been carrying around with you.” She eyed the envelope now sitting on the table between their food trays. “It looks important.”
He guiltily yanked the envelope off the table and sat it on his lap. “It isn’t . . . I mean, it wasn’t important.” He laughed nervously. “I mean . . . I can always mail it later.”
And frankly, he was starting to wonder if Melissa showing up at the very minute he’d intended to mail the package had been a sign. Maybe it was fate interceding and stopping him from making a huge mistake. He had been self-righteously naïve about the ramifications of sharing so much incendiary information with the press. Who knows how many lives could be ruined? How many jobs could be lost? No, he had to think about this a bit longer.
“Well, it was nice to hang out with you either way,” Melissa continued. “Since you and Derrick are on the outs, I don’t get to see you anymore. I don’t have to stock as much white cheddar popcorn at our place for game night. Besides me, you were the only one who ate it,” she joked.
“Derrick won’t . . . he won’t mind us doing this, will he?” Jamal ventured, making her frown.
“Doing what?”
“I mean, is he gonna mind us having lunch together?” He gestured to their food. “Since he and I aren’t talking.”
“Derrick doesn’t control who I talk to, or who I eat lunch with. We’ve never been like that. Besides, you and Derrick may not be tight anymore, but I still consider you one of my friends.”
His eyebrows shot up. He stared at her in surprise. “You do?”
“Of course, I do! We’ve known each other since we were kids.” She glanced at the tables of children, keeping an eye on a group of boys who were getting rowdy. “You knew me back when I was still in braces and a training bra, Jay. That’s a deep connection.”
Really? Because it never felt very deep, he mused as he watched her begin to eat her lunch, but he didn’t share his thoughts aloud.
His interactions with Melissa had always been limited to when Derrick was around. In fact, this would be the first time in years that they’d ever been alone together.
“And the truth is,” she continued between chews, lowering her fork from her mouth, “I’ve been kind of irritated with Derrick lately, so I don’t give a damn if he would have a problem with us eating lunch together. Serves him right! He does whatever the hell he wants. Why shouldn’t I do what I want, too?”
“Wait. What did Derrick do?”
“Well, he’s been talking to my daddy behind my back this whole time, for one.”
So she finally found out about that, Jamal thought as he bit into his taco.
He was wondering if she would get wind of the fact that Derrick was still regularly meeting up with her father, despite her wishes to the contrary. Jamal hadn’t thought staying friends with Mr. Theo was worth alienating and pissing off your fiancée, but that was his opinion. When he’d told Derrick as much months ago, Derrick had ignored him.
“Dee wants to get married but then he pulls some shit like this? How the hell am I supposed to trust him?”
Jamal sat silently for several seconds, carefully considering his words. He didn’t want to bad mouth Derrick, but he did feel his former friend had been out of line.
“I know you’re upset,” Jamal began, “but Dee did have good intentions. He felt bad for Mr. Theo and he thought he could find a way to get you and your dad talking again.”
“Yeah, he did, but I just wish he wouldn’t always assume that he knows what’s best. Who died and made him the authority on everything?”
“That’s blasphemy, Lissa. Didn’t you know Dee, our lord and savior, died for our sins?” Jamal murmured sarcastically.
Melissa burst into laughter, clamping her hand over her mouth.
Jamal started laughing too.
“Died for our sins,” she chortled. “You’re funny! I don’t know why I never realized you were so funny before.”
I know why, Jamal thought.
She didn’t know he could be funny because she barely knew him at all. Now she had the chance to finally see the man he really was, to see him outside of Derrick’s shadow.
An hour later, Jamal walked Melissa and her class back to the Wilson Building glass doors.
“Again, thank you so much for doing this today, Jay.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t a problem. You guys caught me at a good time,” he lied. “Besides, I don’t mind doing my part for the kids. And it was kinda fun.”
She turned and watched as the children filed through the glass doors to the stone steps leading to the curb below where two yellow school buses awaited them.
“It was good seeing you,” she said.
“It was good seeing you t—”
He didn’t get to finish. She enveloped him in a hug, completely catching him off guard. He stood still for the first few seconds and then gradually wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. Though the entire act probably lasted all of thirty seconds, it felt like time had slowed down.
He closed his eyes and inhaled, smelling the delicious scent of cocoa butter on his skin, absorbing the warmth of her body. And far too soon, she stepped out of his embrace.
“We should do this again sometime,” she said.
“How about we meet for coffee next week?” he blurted out. “My treat.”
When he saw the surprised look on her face, he realized that he had been too eager. She was only being polite when she said they should meet up again.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, he thought.
He opened his mouth to beg off but then she nodded.
“Sure! That would be nice. I’ll text you to set something up.” She walked toward the doors and waved. “But this time, it’s my treat. You paid for lunch, remember? Bye, Jay!”
“Bye, Lissa,” he said, gazing at her until she walked through the doors, down the stairs to the sidewalk, and disappeared onto the school bus.
Chapter 16
/> Ricky
It was easy to spot Simone even in the dark and the downpour. The sidewalks were mostly deserted due to the late hour and heavy rain that made murky water littered with trash and debris bubble out of storm drains and scuttle down the street in eddies and waves.
She stood alone near the bus stop, the sole figure on the deserted city block. He could see her in the hazy glow of his headlights, shivering under her black umbrella and wearing jeans that were already soaked up to the knees. The instant he pulled up to the curb, she ran to his car. He unlocked door and she hopped inside, slamming the door shut behind her.
“I’m going to kill him!” she shouted, not even bothering with a greeting. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“No, you’re not,” he said, driving through the intersection as the stoplight turned from red to green. He glanced at her. “Put your seatbelt on. You’re a cop. You should know better.”
He watched as she buckled her seatbelt and glared out the windshield. She bit hard on her bottom lip and shook her head. “He deserves to die for what he’s doing to her. You know that! She’s just a kid and he’s passing her around to random strangers. You said yourself you think he’s beating those girls to make them stay. Why the hell shouldn’t I kill him?”
Ricky sighed as he drove.
He hadn’t expected to meet Simone tonight, only a day after the party at Dolla’s house, but of course, as soon as he texted her the pictures of Skylar, she sent him a rapid thread of text messages in reply.
She looks HORRIBLE.
Did you talk to her? What did she say?
Are they hurting her?
Ricky had called her back and tried to share everything he’d seen and what had happened that night, but the questions continued to flood out of her. Her words sped up and she got louder and louder on the other end of the line. She sounded one part angry and two parts hysterical. She threatened more than once to charge in there with a warrant—and if she couldn’t get a warrant, she would just kick the door down and come in with guns blazing.