Under My Rules

by Rhonda Bowen

  Khai took another bite out of his hot dog as he sat on the back of a park bench in a lightly populated stretch of the New York Harbor. The water was calm and the sky was glowing orange as the sun made its last marks on the day.

  “Semple said you took care of him so...”

  Khai put the last bite of the hot dog in his mouth and crushed the paper wrapping in his hands. He aimed for a trashcan nearby and got a clean shot.

  “Nice arm.”

  “Thanks.” Khai brushed the crumbs off his jeans and looked at his feet. He stepped off the bench. “Walk with me.”

  The well-known NFL quarterback pulled his cap down lower and fell instep beside Khai.

  “I can handle this for you, but you gotta stay away from the groupies. You keep having more of these situations and after a while, no one will be able to cover your behind.”

  The man nodded. “Got it.”

  Khai knew he didn’t get it. Money in the bank, the two of them would be having this very conversation again in six weeks.

  “Also, it’s gonna cost you,” Khai said.

  “How much?”

  “My guess is it’s going to start somewhere around ten. And that doesn’t include my fee.”

  His walking partner froze. “Ten K for some pictures?”

  “She could easily get that for it on the market,” Khai said with a shrug. “Plus, she knows you’re good for it so she won’t take less.”

  “Man, I thought you were supposed to make this go away?”

  Khai frowned. “Yeah, in a way that keeps you playing and also doesn’t put you or me in jail later down the line. That’s how I work.”

  He sighed and ran his hand over his head. “Alright. Do what you have to do. How soon can I have this done?”

  Khai resumed his pace. “I’ll try and knock it out before the end of the week. Provided she hasn’t moved the pictures to too many locations, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Alright. You know how to reach me.”

  Khai nodded and parted ways with his newest client. He shook his head as he walked the two blocks back to where his car was parked. Another private photo situation. He couldn’t complain. They were his bread and butter. But he couldn’t believe that athletes, politicians, musicians and people in general were still getting into bed with unreliable people with their cellphones in the room. You would think after Kobe and R. Kelly, all that madness would stop. You would think wrong.

  He turned over the engine of his Ford Mustang and smiled as the dashboard lit up. It had been just two days since he had taken ownership of the vehicle and he was still getting used to it. He kept going back to the Mustang when it came to rental options and he finally realized he was ready to commit to it. Plus, he knew it was Portia’s favorite. Every time he showed up in it, she would shake her head and give him a little smile. No smart comments like he got with all the other vehicles, just a smile. He knew her enough now to know that was her own show of approval. Hopefully, he would hear the words out of her mouth when he saw her in a few minutes.

  He turned onto the street from the underground parking garage and headed east to Holy Trinity. Traffic was a beast this time of day. By the time he arrived at the church, it would be time for the feeding. This would be his second time going, and he had to say he really enjoyed his first occasion, so much so that even if Portia wasn’t going to be there he would have shown up. There was something interesting about the people who came out. Those being served weren’t anything like he thought they would be. Of course, you had the homeless and those only a food stamp away from being homeless. But rarely were they the kind of people who made you feel sorry for them. They may have been low on money, but a lot of them were in good supply of their dignity.

  There was one guy Khai ended up chatting with a good long time. His story about how he lost everything after one bad business deal reminded Khai of his own life and how easily everything you had could just be taken from you.

  And then there were those who came to serve, Pastor Greg and the members from Portia’s church. They were so warm and welcoming to him, not asking too many questions about why he was there, just treating him like one of their own.

  But he would be lying if he said Portia wasn’t the highlight.

  She was the reason he ended up there in the first place. She was the reason he had become friends with Naomi, Jordan, Malcolm and a lot of people who - despite being well connected - had been more genuine than many of the people he had known for years. They were people whose friendship felt a little deeper than ordinary friendship and who, despite their differences welcomed him in like they had known him forever.

  They made him think about how others perceived him. And it made him want to be a better person than he had been. There was clearly something about them all that made them different and it seemed like something he might want to have himself.

  After finding parking on the street, Khai crossed the road and made his way down to the basement level where he could already hear Christmas carols playing. He had barely stepped through the door when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and saw a man whose name he had forgotten waving him over.

  The man grinned at him. “The Lord must have been leading you today, you’re just in time to help us serve.”

  Khai laughed and took the apron and spoon the man handed him and got to work.

  About one hundred plates of greens later, someone nudged his shoulder. Milo grinned at him.

  “Well, well, look who’s back!”

  He shrugged. “Guess it kind of grew on me.”

  She nodded. “Happens to the best of us. They got me on dessert duty on the other side. Catch you later.”

  He opened his mouth to ask her if she had seen Portia but she was already half jogging across the room. Besides, his pause in serving was causing a back up in the line.

  “You chatting or you serving, light skin?”

  Khai looked up and found a short plump woman with an afro holding her plate out. The twinkle in her eye let him know she was teasing.

  He grinned. “Serving, ma’am. Definitely serving.”

  The line disappeared around the same time the collard greens did, giving Khai a chance to sit down. His feet hurt and his arm was a little sore, but it was a worthwhile ache.

  “Glad you could come out and join us again.”

  Khai looked up just as Pastor Greg sat next to him. Someone had pointed out the man’s adult children so Khai knew Pastor Greg had to be at least in his fifties, but the only think that contoured the man’s coffee colored skin were laugh lines. A telltale sprinkling of gray hairs also suggested more age than one might think.

  Khai nodded and took the plate with pumpkin pie that was handed to him. He took one bite and knew this was not Portia’s pie.

  “Helping out is the least I can do,” Khai said after he swallowed. “Coming here the first time made me realize how little I do that is not for myself. This is not much, but I feel like it’s a start for me.”

  Pastor Greg nodded as he digested his own bite. “A lot of people tend to feel that way around the holidays. I guess it’s God’s favorite season for pricking the heart.”

  Pricking? More like banging at it with a sledgehammer. Khai couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had thought so much about spiritual things.

  “You look conflicted,” Pastor Greg said, his eyes still on his plate.

  “I guess...well, I’ve been thinking a lot about the stuff you said at the Christmas service.” Khai shook his head. “I just don’t understand. Like, I get that things don’t always happen how you plan but how can I just let go? How can I act like what I wanted didn’t get stolen from me? Does God expect us to just take the punches without fighting back?”

  Pastor Greg looked at him. “You have brothers and sisters, Khai?”

  He nodded. “Older brother. Lots of little half sisters and brothers that I didn’t grow up with.”

  Pastor Greg nodded. “You ever get bullied in school?”
/>
  Khai smiled. “Yeah, actually. I was small for my age for most of elementary school. This older boy in my grade used to pick on me all the time.” Khai shook his head. “It was bad, until Kristoffe got involved. I came home with a black eye one day. The next day, my brother walked with me to school and I showed him the little punk who did it.”

  “What happened?”

  Khai shrugged. “I don’t know actually. Kristoffe didn’t do anything. Just left. But after that day, the kid never bothered me again.”

  Pastor Greg nodded. “Your brother took care of it.”

  Khai frowned. “Yeah, I guess he did.” He tried to think back to anything out of the ordinary that had happened around that time but he couldn’t remember anything.

  “I never asked Kristoffe about that. But I guess he must have done something.”

  “Interesting how that works,” Pastor Greg scraped the last of the pie crust onto his fork. “You just tell you brother your problem, and the problem gets taken care of without you ever having to do anything, without you even knowing when or how it was taken care of.”

  Khai looked across at the older man. “What are you getting at?”

  “You really need me to spell it out for you?”

  Khai turned his gaze away. “So, you’re saying it’s like that with God? I bring him my issues and He will just take care of them?”

  “...His way.” Pastor Greg finished.

  Khai let out a deep breath. “That’s hard.”

  “Sometimes, it’s the only thing you can do,” the Pastor smiled. “But that’s what surrendering to God is about. It’s harder for us men. We are used to fixing things, solving the problem. We don’t really know how to let someone else handle the problem. We feel like we aren’t fulfilling our responsibility. Like somehow that makes us less. But it doesn’t. Because in Christ, we find strength. And wisdom. And unconditional love. And we need that, even though we don’t like to admit it. It’s in Him we find purpose. And when he shows us our purpose, it gives us freedom to let go of the things that haven’t gone the way we planned.”

  Khai nodded. “I hear you.”

  Pastor Greg laughed. “I know you hear me. Even though your eyes are searching for someone else.”

  Khai smiled and looked over at the man. “Am I that obvious?”

  The man laughed and clapped him on the back. “Go find her.”

  Might as well. He was sure thinking about her enough. Standing to his feet, he shook hands with the pastor.

  “Thanks, I really was listening to what you said.”

  Pastor Greg nodded. “It will make sense in time.”

  The words rolled around in his mind, trying to find roots as Khai walked back into the kitchen in search of Portia. Volunteers had started to clear out a little earlier and only a few were left in the kitchen. Milo was one of them.

  “Hey, have you seen my girl?” Khai crossed the floor towards her.

  Milo smirked. “So you’re finally admitting she’s all that to you? It’s about time.”

  Khai rolled his eyes. “As if you didn’t have me figured out already.”

  “Yeah, but it was fun to watch.” Milo wiggled her eyebrows. “No, I haven’t seen her. Don’t think she’s here this evening. She called in sick yesterday and didn’t come in today.”

  Khai raised an eyebrow. “She was out sick?”

  That wasn’t like Portia at all. She would go into work on her deathbed if she could get someone to roll it into the elevator at Solid.

  “Yeah, I thought it was weird too.” Milo frowned. “But she said she just needed some time to rest.”

  “So you didn’t see her or talk to her today?”

  “No. You?”

  “No.”

  Somewhere in the back of Khai’s mind, alarm bells went off. But he spent his life not panicking at people’s problems. He wasn’t about to start now.

  He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Portia’s number. “What about Tuesday?”

  “I barely spoke to her. She spent the whole day in her office, and I was so busy with the contracts for our new business.” Milo wrung her hands. “Oh no, you don’t think...? Shoot.”

  Khai listened to Portia’s phone ring. Memories of the last time he’d seen her, crying as she sunk down into her couch, replayed in his mind. He shouldn’t have left her alone.

  He headed upstairs to the parking lot. “Did she eat Tuesday when you saw her?”

  “Yes, of course,” Milo nodded.

  Khai stopped at the top of the stairs and met Milo’s gaze. “Are you sure? Did you see her eat?”

  “Yes.” Milo slapped her thigh. “She brought in a salad. It was on her desk.”

  Milo’s voice faltered. Khai watched as panic filled her features. “I don’t know. I don’t know if she ate it. I didn’t see…shoot! I didn’t see!”

  “We have to go.”

  They drove separately. Khai cut through several back streets to make it into Brooklyn in record time. His heart hammered in his chest the whole time as he thought about Portia, and how she looked as she argued with brother. There were circles under her eyes and a drawn look on her face. He should have been more concerned. He shouldn’t have left her alone.

  Milo still got there before him. As he parked, he saw her running up the walkway to Portia’s house. By the time he reached the stairs, she was already upstairs. Derek was standing in the middle of the room with his head in his hands. He turned to look at Khai as soon the man stepped through the door.

  “Tell me you know where she is.”

  Khai felt his stomach dive to his feet.

  He tore through the unit. Everything was neat and in order. No one stopped him as he went through her bathroom and bedroom. It was in the same order. Her favorite spot, the kitchen, was spotless as if she hadn’t used it in ages instead of just days ago.

  He opened the fridge and gaped.

  “It’s stacked. Full.”

  Milo scurried around him to look through the contents. She let out a tiny cry.

  “Nothing’s touched.” She pulled out an uncut lasagna, a dish full of chicken and a perfect batch of cinnamon rolls. “She hasn’t eaten anything for God knows how long.”

  But Khai was no longer listening to Milo because he was standing over by the table. The one with her alternative jar; the jar was now empty. He picked it up and looked at Derek.

  “What happens when she runs out of alternatives?”

  Derek’s face crumpled.

  Khai felt the strength leave his limbs. He dropped onto Portia’s couch. This couldn’t be happening. How could this be happening? He ran his hands through his hair.

  “How long does it take until...”

  “Until it’s really bad?” Derek shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s never relapsed. Almost three years and she’s never relapsed. But before, when it was bad...”

  Derek paced. “If we are just now realizing that she’s been skipping meals, that means she could have been doing it a lot longer than we think. She could have been purging. She could have...”

  Khai watched Derek pick up the phone. “I have to call mom.”

  And Khai had to do something. He couldn’t just sit there. Not when no one knew where Portia was. Not when she was alone, dealing with this by herself.

  He stood and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  The hysteria in Milo’s voice only served to hasten his steps.

  “To find her.”

  Chapter 21

  Khai was feeling desperate.

  And he didn’t like desperate.

  Desperate was what he felt when he had stood in his office years earlier having handcuffs slapped on him and charges read out loud. Desperate was what he felt as he sat in a courtroom listening to false evidence piled against him. Desperate was what he felt as he was driven onto the compound of FCI Lompoc in Santa Barbara for the first time, knowing the low security prison was about to be his home for the next couple years.

>   He thought he was done with desperate when he finally got out. But then the feeling snuck up on him again as he watched his brother and sister-in-law mourn the loss of their first child. And it was here today again as he stopped his car on a side street several blocks from Portia’s home.

  He’d looked everywhere for her. Everywhere. His tank was almost empty from driving around Brooklyn. He had even headed over to Queens where her church was and looped by her mother’s shop. There was no one at the Solid Step Footwear offices or the coffee shop down the road where she had lunch sometimes. The twenty-four hour supermarket was a bust as was her gym. And the fact that neither Derek nor Milo had called him told him she had not showed up at home either. She was nowhere.

  Portia was nowhere.

  The thought sliced through him like a shard of ice creating more space for the desperation to seep in. He couldn’t breathe.

  He shoved at the door and stumbled out into the dark night, pacing the ground around his car door.

  Where was she? He couldn’t stop looking but he didn’t know where to look anymore. He pulled out his cellphone and sent a text message to Max, knowing he didn’t have the stomach for a voice conversation.

  Anything?

  It was almost three in the morning, but he knew his friend was up looking. All his people were looking. For her.

  The return message was swift.

  Still looking.

  Not what he wanted to hear. The pressure in his chest increased. The thoughts he tried to push away filtered in. What if something had happened to her? This was New York. It was winter. Anything could happen. She could have slipped on the ice on the sidewalk and be lying unconscious. She could have been taken. Someone could have grabbed her and shoved her into an alleyway somewhere and...

  He dialed another number before he lost it completely.

  “I can’t find her. It’s been two days since anyone has seen or spoken to her. I’ve looked everywhere, Kristoffe.”

  “Hey, bro, take it easy.” His brother’s soothing voice came through the line. “Try and take a couple deep breaths. It’s going to be okay.”