by D. L. Sparks
“Good,” I said, aloud to the empty room.
I got up and started turning off the lights and checking the locks. I already knew that Lincoln wasn’t coming home because he’d sent me a text earlier saying something about working late because of the case. Honestly, I didn’t even read the whole thing. I just deleted it.
Once I made sure the doors leading to the deck were locked, I turned the lights off in the kitchen, causing the night-lights to dimly illuminate the room. I was just about to set the alarm for the night, but I noticed a light coming from underneath the door that led to the garage. I rolled my eyes because Lincoln was always forgetting to turn the light off whenever he left.
In my socks I padded out into the garage. The first thing I noticed was how dirty my car was. I had to remember to have Lincoln take it to get it washed. I skirted around my car and reached for the light switch on the wall; but before I could touch it, I damn near tripped and broke my neck. My foot got caught on the strap of a black duffel bag. I reached down to untangle myself. As I pulled the strap free, the bag tipped over, exposing its contents.
For a moment I stood there staring at what was laying on the concrete floor next to my feet. I stepped over the pile, never taking my eyes off it, as if it would disappear if I did.
I stooped down and picked up one of the stacks of money. I held it in my hand and stared at it like the intruder it had just become in my life. I dropped it back to where it had been resting. Just as I was about to reach down and touch a brick of cocaine, Linc’s voice echoed through the garage.
“What you doin’ out here?”
I stood up and looked at him, but he was staring at me as if I were in the wrong.
I could barely speak. “Wh—what am I doing?” I motioned to the stack on my garage floor. “What the hell is this?”
He walked down the steps and came toward me. “I asked you a question. Why are you in here?”
I motioned toward the light switch. “You left the light on again and ...” I could barely finish my sentence.
“And what?”
I felt light-headed. My hands were trembling. “Lincoln, why is this in my garage?”
“I’m keepin’ you with this big-ass roof over your head and clothes on Cameron’s back. Keepin’ that club runnin’. That’s all you need to be worried about.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re joking, right?”
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
My eyes cut to the bag on the floor. “Lincoln, where did you get this from?”
“Why you out here goin’ through my shit, Idalis?”
“I wasn’t going through your shit! I tripped over the bag and—”
Before I could finish my sentence, he reached up and grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks in his hand, cutting me off. “And what?”
He shoved me backward so hard that my body slammed into the truck of my car—thankfully keeping me from hitting the concrete ground of the garage. It took all I had in me not to let out the scream that swelled in my throat out of fear of waking Cameron.
A sinister smile spread across his face. “I told you about questionin’ me, Idalis.”
I was frantic. Anger and fear shared space in my chest; each fighting and clawing to take over. “What if Cameron had come in here and found this?”
I watched, stunned, as he resituated everything back into the bag and zipped it up.
Totally ignoring me.
He stood up and glared at me. Defiant and angry. “Go to bed, Idalis.”
I followed him as he made his way back into the house, closing the door to the garage behind us. He made his way to the front door, and I headed toward the steps to go upstairs and check on Cameron.
“I’m on my way back out,” he spoke to my back.
Just as my foot touched the bottom step, he called out my name.
“Idalis.”
I kept my hand on the railing and my back to him. “What?” I answered matter-of-factly.
“I hope you ain’t plannin’ on doin’ nothin’ stupid.”
I turned around and shot him a look. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, opening your mouth.”
I was in complete disbelief, not sure how to respond. In my opinion there was no response. I flinched, gripping the railing even tighter when he walked toward me.
He leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips. “And if you’re thinkin’ about runnin’ your mouth, I would think long and hard first.”
“Why?” I asked. “You gonna slap me around some more?”
He let out a laugh. “Nah, I’d just hate for you to get pulled over”—he started walking toward the door—“and have your car searched. It would be a shame if they were to find drugs in your possession. ’Cause you know if they do, you’re going straight downtown, right? And by the time you fuck Trip to get out of holdin’, Cameron will be so deep in the system, you’ll never see him again.”
Nausea washed over me as I stood there and glaring at him, my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.
He winked at me. “Sleep tight.”
The front door closed and the soft click of the lock set off a bomb inside me. I fell to the steps and sobbed. I wanted to scream, to break things, to scoop up my son and run. But I knew that no matter where I ended up, he’d find me.
At some point I managed to pull myself up off the steps and made it to the living-room. I didn’t know how much time had passed. I just remembered waking up on the couch with my phone in my hand.
I looked down at the display and saw that I had found Trip’s number in my contacts, but I didn’t hit send.
My head and my ribcage were pounding, so I got up and grabbed some Advil out of the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. I popped two in my mouth and washed them down with a handful of water.
I looked at my reflection in the oval-shaped mirror . At least this time it wasn’t my face, I thought. I lifted the oversized tee and spied the large purplish red bruise on my side from where I slammed into my car. That little souvenir was unmistakable, and to call it painful wasn’t doing it justice.
I pulled my shirt back down and went upstairs to Cameron’s room. I stood in his doorway and watched his little chest rise and fall under his Cars comforter. I moved closer and stood over him, watching him sleep. His face was so angelic; it always made me smile. But what broke my heart more than anything ...
What bothered me the most ...
Was how much he looked like his father.
“It is a man’s own mind, not his enemy or foe that lures him to evil ways”
—Siddhartha Buddha
Linc’s truck rolled to a stop in front of the address that Twist texted him. “This is it,” he said.
Nate leaned forward and looked across Linc and out the window.
“All right, let’s see what this dude is talkin’ about.”
“You think we need to trust Twist?”
Linc rubbed his goatee. “He’s been good up to this point. Moved a lot of shit for me. If he says this cat is one hundred, then I believe him.”
“I know, but this was supposed to be a hit and run type deal. When we started this a while back we were gonna hit these dealers up hard and get out the game. There’s a lot going on,” Nate argued. “Shit’s getting to hot out here.”
“Once we move the weight we got things will start running smooth again. You let me worry ‘bout that the heat, you just keep banking the money.”
Nate put his hand on his arm. “Yo, is this about that shit with Idalis and Trip?”
Linc pulled his arm away. “Man if you don’t get the fuck outta my truck with that bullshit. This is about my money and my reputation. These fools won’t hesitate to wipe me out if I get caught slippin’, ya dig.”
“A’ight I hear you,” Nate said.
“I feel where you comin’ from. Trust me, I’m on top of this shit, believe me.”
“That’s all I wanted to know,” Nate responded.
They got out an
d headed toward the huge double doors situated at the top of the steps. This was supposed to be a quick exchange and Linc hoped it went down the way it was supposed to.
He was out of his comfort zone and he was on edge. The only reason he’d agreed to meet this dude was because he needed the stacks to flip the weight he was sitting on.
Nate hit the door three hard times as Linc looked over his shoulder, half expecting someone to rush up on him at any moment. Shit was getting hectic and he was losing his grip, not to mention he was out of his element. But if this dude could deliver like Twist said, then it just might be worth the risk.
A few moments later the door swung open and a big dude, who had to weigh no less than 250, was standing there. He didn’t look happy. Instinctively, Linc put his hand on his gun, but he didn’t pull it out.
“Yo, playa, fuck y’all want?” he barked.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Linc answered, hand still on his gun. “Damn, you need to calm the fuck down. Where Twist?”
Twist ran up behind the dude, laughing. “They cool; they cool.” He pushed by the dude and ushered them inside. “It’s about damn time.”
Twist led them down a long hall and into a room where a tall brown-skinned guy was waiting. Linc began sizing up the dude immediately: a black Yankees cap rested on top of his head; an oversized black tee hung loosely on his muscular frame. Linc was sure he had more than muscles under that shirt. He was in the small room with two other dudes; one was situated near the window, where he was setting up scales. Linc couldn’t help but notice how big he was, and the fact that the dude looked like Charlie Murphy on steroids. There was a little light-skinned dude sitting on the couch playing Xbox; Linc didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. The other guy, the one who opened the door, made his way into the room and stood in the corner.
“Linc, this is Geech, the guy I was telling you about.”
Geech looked up from that briefcase opened in front of him. “Y’all late. Let’s get this over with.”
Twist looked around the room. “What’s the hurry?”
Geech looked at Linc. “I don’t like cops,” he said, looking at Linc. “All this heat in the room can only start a fire.”
Linc looked at him. “I didn’t come here to be your Facebook friend, ya dig. You got my money, pot’na?”
“Everything is in here.” Geech turned the open briefcase around, showcasing its contents.
Linc eyed the neat stacks of fifties tucked inside the black case. He motioned for Nate to check the contents. He watched intently as Nate pulled stacks out of the case and studied them closely.
“Looks like it’s all here,” Nate finally said.
Linc picked up the duffel bag on the floor next to him and in one switch motion tossed it to the man who had been lurking in the corner. The bag flying in his direction made him put up his hands to catch it, taking away any chance he had of going for whatever heat he was carrying.
“Y’all got your shit; we out.” Linc turned to walk out of the room and he heard the sound of guns being cocked.
He pulled his Glock from his holster and turned around. “Oh, it’s like that?” he taunted. “You blaze. We blaze. What’s up?”
His heart was pounding hard in his chest; he could hear it in his ears. Sweat popped up on his brow as his eyes scanned the room. He didn’t come over here for this shit. From the corner of his eye he could she Nate’s gun pointed at the dude standing by the table.
Geech cracked a crooked smile. “Yo, where you going playboy? I know you in a hurry to supply your merry elves, but this shit needs to be checked.”
Linc gave a nod and Nate lowered his heat, but he didn’t put it away.
Everyone stood around in silence, watching intently as one of Geech’s boys pulled each silver-coated brick out of the small duffel bag and weighed it before meticulously examining each bag of pills. He then pulled a small pocketknife from his back pocket, flicked the blade open and cut a small slit in the top of each brick, revealing the powder hidden inside. A small amount of the light, airy powder settled on top. He moistened the tip of his finger, collected a sample on the tip and rubbed it in his mouth on his gums. Moments later, he gave an approving head nod.
Tension slowly lifted as Geech turned his attention back to Linc. “Yo, big man. What a brotha gotta do to get his weight up?”
Linc holstered his gun. “How much weight you talking?”
“Let me be clear, I’m not just talking weight—I’m talking insulation.”
Linc answered, “I’m listening... .”
He knew what Geech wanted. But Linc wanted to hear him say it. That way he stayed in control. He wasn’t just gonna put his shit out there like that. He’d run interference for dealers numerous times for a cut of their books, so it wasn’t like it was something new. But he didn’t know this dude, so Geech was gonna have to ask for it. And it definitely was gonna come with a price.
“I need some breathing room to get my payroll back up, and the streets are hot right now.”
“And?”
Geech walked around and leaned back against the table. “I know you got some people on the inside who ain’t real happy about their supply being held up.”
It made Linc uneasy that Geech seemed to know about what he had going on, but he had to respect the man and his hustle.
“So what are you sayin’?”
“I think we can both stand to benefit from this, but I need help keeping the bad boys in blue off my back.”
“What kind of weight you looking for?”
“I’m ready to flip high six figures. For starters.”
Linc looked over at Nate and smiled. “I can handle that. But what you gon’ do for me?”
Geech motioned toward a sitting area, with two over-sized armchairs on the other side of the room. “Let’s talk.”
After almost two hours of back and forth they came to an agreement that made both Linc and Geech very happy and promised to make them both extremely rich if they played their cards right.
With the weight Linc was about to supply Geech he could stop rolling low-level dealers and focus most of his attention on working Geech. He could leave the petty street level shit to Nate if he wanted it. This was exactly what he needed, he’d be so far removed from what was going on they’d need a surgeon to figure out his connection, because realistically he’d be right in the heart of it all.
Linc handed Geech the paper he’d been writing on.
Geech scanned it for a moment then looked up. “You sure about this?”
“You want somethin’ from me pot’na, that’s my price. Take it or leave it.”
Geech glanced over to the other side of the room where Twist was drinking and playing Xbox and where Nate and the other dude were talking, before folding the paper and putting it in his pocket.
“So this agent on this list, what’s up with him? He may not be that easy to get to.”
Linc stood up. “He’s my problem, not yours. You just need to get rid of him. Along with everyone else on that list.”
Chapter Sixteen
Idalis
I rode around I-285 and tried to find answers in the intermittent traffic and asphalt that encapsulated the city. I kept replaying the threat from Linc. At this point I wouldn’t put anything past him, including planting something either in my car or on me just to get me locked up. I couldn’t live my life searching my car every time I pulled out of the driveway, or checking my pockets and purse whenever I left the house.
That was just crazy.
Things were falling apart at the seams and I couldn’t get a grip on them: India, with this California mess, and Linc flipping the script the way he had. I felt like I was dealing with a bunch of doppelgängers. One thing I did know, with both of them losing their minds, only Trip seemed to be making sense to me right now.
I picked up my phone and tried Trip’s number.
It went to voice mail, so I left him a message.
“Hey, it’s Idalis. When you get this me
ssage, can you call me? There’s something going on, and I don’t know who else to talk to.”
I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and saw the exit for I-20 coming into view. I hit the gas, exited, and sped west.
Fifteen minutes later, yet again, I was standing in the middle of my past. Only this time it was broad daylight and all secrets were on display. The rickety porch made me feel like I was a little girl standing there in ripped jeans and ponytails, about to ask if Trip could come out to play.
I heard the locks click; then the door opened and his mom was standing there, smiling. I couldn’t help but smile. She was so tiny and much older than the last time I saw her when her husband died.
Her hand shot up and covered her mouth in surprise. “Oh my Jesus, Idalis Arrington.” She pushed back the old screen door, welcoming me into her home. “It’s been so long.”
She hugged me tightly, causing me to wince from the pain in my side, but I didn’t pull away.
“How are you, Miss Myrtle?”
She turned and pushed the door up. “I’m good. I’m good. Come on in and have a seat. When’s the wedding ?”
“It’s in a couple months.” I said.
“Wow, coming up fast.” She busied herself rearranging pillows on the couch; then she moved a throw blanket from one side of the couch to the other. She was just as nervous about me being in her space as I was about being there.
I smiled, no real comeback for that. I made my way to the couch and took a seat.
“How’s your grandmother?” she asked.
“She’s okay,” I responded. “She’s been up moving around.”
She nodded her approval. “Praise God. I saw your mom at church the other Sunday and she said she seemed to be doing much better.”
“Uhm ... I can’t stay long, I was actually”—I looked around nervously—“I was, uh, looking for Trinity. That her Acura parked in the driveway?”
She looked back toward the bedrooms. “Yes, she’s back in her room.”
A few moments after that, I heard her coming down the hall. “Mama, who was at the door?” She stopped when she saw me sitting on the couch. “Oh my goodness! Hi, Idalis!” she squealed, rushing over to hug me.