Buying Time

by Pamela Samuels Young

  She plopped down behind her desk and massaged the back of her neck. Her life had gone from bliss to anguish in a matter of days. At least Cornell had finally stopped calling. She assumed the conversation she’d had with his best friend, Rupert Byrdsong, had worked.

  “I need you to talk to Cornell,” Angela had begun. “He’s basically been stalking me.”

  Rupert didn’t say anything for a while. “Is it true?” he finally asked. “Are you dating a convicted drug dealer?” A partner at Byrdsong, Ivy, McNeil and Wyatt, Rupert was a major mover and shaker in L.A. Just the kind of guy Cornell liked to rub shoulders with. Angela and Cornell had frequently doubled-dated with Rupert and his wife.

  “Whoever I’m dating is nobody’s business,” Angela snapped. “I just need you to convey a message to him because he doesn’t seem to hear it when I tell him. The only reason I haven’t reported him to the police is because I don’t want to destroy his career. But if he ever comes near me again, I will.”

  “Cornell is pretty broken up,” Rupert said. “He’s not himself. Apparently you aren’t either.”

  “I’m just fine. If you care about your friend, you’ll deliver my message.”

  Angela’s assistant walked in and handed her a package. Angela knew what was inside without even opening it. She waited until the door closed before pulling out Dre’s file from his state court case.

  She rifled through it until she found his rap sheet. There was only one arrest and one conviction. California Health and Safety Code Section 11351.5, possession or purchase for sale of cocaine base. At least he wasn’t a career criminal.

  So far, everything Dre had told her was the truth. There was even mention of his degree from Long Beach State. Angela closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to both of her temples. She couldn’t believe she was actually trying to justify what Dre did, or used to do, for a living. But she couldn’t deny how much she missed him and wanted him in her life.

  She rested her head on her desk, cushioning it in the crook of her arm. When she looked up, Zack was standing over her desk.

  “You okay?”

  Zack’s eyes surveyed her desk. Angela quickly closed Dre’s file and slipped it back into the envelope.

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “What’s up?”

  Zack looked uncomfortable and she knew why. She’d heard that he was moving to D.C. and taking a job on Erickson’s staff. He was selling out and she was going to tell him as much.

  “I’ll just blurt it out,” Zack finally said. “You need to know that there are a lot of rumors floating around the office.”

  “Rumors about what?”

  “About you and Cornell.”

  Angela held up her ringless left hand and waved it back and forth. “Yes, my engagement is off. If that’s all people have to talk about, so be it.”

  “It’s not just that. A maintenance guy told one of the secretar-ies that Cornell attacked you in your office last week.”

  Angela stiffened. The man had been nice enough to escort her all the way to her car. He had also promised not to mention the incident to anyone.

  “That’s not true,” she lied. “We had a disagreement and we both got a little loud. That was it.”

  “I just thought you should know. And there’s something else—”

  “Zack, I don’t want to discuss Cornell with you or anybody else. Okay?” The people in her office were nothing but gossips. The lawyers were worse than the secretaries.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, but I just wanted to tell you that—”

  “I said I don’t want to know, Zack.” Angela stood up and picked up her purse from the desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was just about to leave.”

  Shortly after seven, Angela pulled into the underground garage of her building, turned off the engine and removed the key. Her car was in the shop for a tune-up so she was driving her sister’s Mazda.

  Angela was always careful now to survey her surroundings before exiting the car. She noticed a young woman headed for the stairwell. Angela had just opened the door and planted her left foot on the ground when Cornell seemed to appear from nowhere.

  She screamed and tried to close the door, but Cornell lunged forward, snatching it open.

  “I just want to talk.” Cornell gripped the door with his left hand and extended the palm of his right toward her. “Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

  “We don’t have a damn thing to talk about. You need to get it into your head that our relationship is over.” She tried to close the door, but Cornell had a firm grasp.

  As she stared up at him, she felt like a fool for ever feeling sorry for him. Jada was right. She should have called the police the first time he put his hands on her. She had prosecuted enough domestic violence cases to know better. Men who battered women were fueled by jealousy and insecurity. They lacked the ability to think or act rationally. To hell with Cornell’s career. As soon as she made it to her apartment, she planned to call the cops. Tomorrow morning, she would get a restraining order.

  “I took care of you for three years. Don’t you at least owe me a few minutes of your time?”

  “You didn’t take of care me. I took care of myself.” Angela immediately regretted her retort. It wasn’t smart to risk angering him further.

  Leaning sideways, she felt around on the floor. She couldn’t remember whether her sister had taken the gun when Angela dropped her off at the beauty shop that morning. She prayed it was there. When she felt the soft velvet and the hard lump underneath, a torrent of relief followed. She slipped the .38 out of its pouch and into the pocket of her jacket.

  “If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police,” she threatened, although her BlackBerry was out of reach, buried in her purse.

  “The police? Really? Maybe you should call your drug dealer boyfriend instead.”

  Her right hand clutched the .38. Angela had never fired a gun before, but she was more than ready to learn on the job. Maybe it was better to just keep him talking until another car entered the garage. She looked past him to where the woman had been, but saw no one. Where in the hell is the security guard?

  “C’mon,” Cornell said. “Let’s go up to your place so we can talk.” He pulled the door open even wider.

  The man was truly delusional if he thought he was getting anywhere near her apartment. “I already told you. I don’t want to talk to you. Now leave me alone!”

  Angela tugged hard on the door and almost closed it, but Cornell pulled it open again. She was just about to lean on the horn when Cornell’s demeanor abruptly changed.

  “Okay, okay, don’t overreact. If you want me to leave, I will.” He let go of the door and took a step back. “Go on up to your apartment. I won’t bother you.”

  Angela wasn’t buying it. She put the key back in the ignition, but when she tried to close the car door, Cornell charged forward, reached over the window, grabbed her arm and snatched her from the car.

  He shut the door, then backhanded her across the face. Blood splattered from her nose, spotting Cornell’s grey suit.

  “You bitch! Who do you think you are?”

  Pinning her arms at her side, he banged her body against the hood of the car. He reeked of alcohol.

  “Maybe you like it better when I act like a thug.” He leaned in and roughly kissed her.

  Angela swung her head from side to side and tried to pull away. When she screamed, Cornell fastened his hand around her neck. He squeezed for several seconds, then let go.

  “I could kill you right now if I wanted to,” he said. “And if you scream again, I will.”

  As hard as she tried, the fearless facade she so desperately wanted to maintain shattered. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She tried to retrieve the gun from her pocket, but Cornell had her right arm locked at her side.

  “Oh, so now you want to cry. I bet you weren’t crying when you were out cheating on me.” He let go o
f her arm and backhanded her across the face again. Another gush of blood spewed from her nose.

  “Does that thug fuck you better than me?”

  She turned away as the right side of her face went numb. Cornell pulled her toward him, then slammed her back against the car again.

  Excruciating pain radiated down her back, but the crazed look in his eyes frightened her far more than the blows to her body. The look told her that she would not leave the garage alive.

  “Answer me, bitch! Who fucks you the best?”

  “You,” Angela finally sputtered.

  When Cornell reared back to slap her again, Angela slid her right hand into her pocket and pulled out the gun. In one quick move, she jammed it into his stomach.

  “Get away from me or I’ll blow your goddamn guts out!” Angela screamed.

  Cornell staggered sideways, his bravado gone. It took him only seconds though, to regain it. “I thought you were afraid of guns.” He was laughing now. “Is that a present from that ex-con you’re fucking?”

  Angela took baby steps to her left, trying to make it back inside the car. Her hand was wobbling so violently she feared she might drop the gun. She reached behind her back with her left hand to open the door. She was about to climb inside when Cornell charged at her. He grabbed her wrist, forced the gun downward, and pulled her away from the car.

  “You, bitch! How dare you pull a gun on me. I’ll kill you!”

  They were both wrestling for the gun when Angela felt a heavy weight on her back. A long arm reached over her shoulder and down between her and Cornell.

  “I got it, Angela!” Dre yelled. “Let go!”

  She heard Dre’s voice, but was too paralyzed with fear to do anything except grip the gun tighter.

  “Angela,” Dre yelled, “let go!”

  She tried to comply, but terror disabled her.

  Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the garage like a dozen firecrackers going off in a tunnel and time slowed. Cornell’s eyes grew wide and both hands clutched his stomach. He lurched forward as his lanky body plunged to the pavement. Expletives continued to spew from his lips as an expanding circle of bright, red blood darkened his white shirt.

  Angela looked down at the gun in her hand and began wailing. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

  Dre eased the weapon from her hand and set it on the hood of the car. He pulled her to him, encircling her with both arms.

  A security guard rushed over. He stared down at Cornell lying in a pool of blood.

  “What happened?” the man yelled, pulling out his useless baton.

  “He was attackin’ her,” Dre said calmly. “I shot him. The gun’s over there.”

  Angela stiffened. “What? No, I—”

  Dre pressed her mouth to his chest, cutting her off. “Call an ambulance,” he told the rent-a-cop, “and the police.”

  The man fumbled for the cell phone in his back pocket.

  “Let me handle this,” Dre whispered into Angela’s ear. “When the police get here, just listen to everything I say and repeat it. Okay?”

  “But you didn’t shoot him. I—”

  “No,” Dre said firmly. “You got way more to lose than I do. This is straight up self-defense. Cornell was attackin’ you. You’ve got the bruises to prove it. We all struggled for the gun. I had my hand on top of yours and I pulled the trigger, not you. That’s the way this is goin’ down.”

  Angela grew even more hysterical and almost slipped from Dre’s grasp.

  “Baby, you have to calm down.” Dre buried his face in her hair and struggled to keep her from sliding to the ground. “Everything’s goin’ to be fine. I promise you, I got this.”

  PART FIVE

  * * *

  To The Rescue

  CHAPTER 65

  Waverly stood a few feet away, behind a large post, watching Britney enter her apartment.

  She was struggling to hold on to three plastic grocery bags and seemed to be having trouble finding the right key. On the third try, she let out a long sigh and turned the doorknob. The second she opened the door, Waverly ran in after her, closing the door behind him.

  “Please don’t kill me!” Britney shrieked, dropping her bags to the floor. She tried to dash down a hallway, but Waverly caught the end of her T-shirt, pulling her back toward him.

  “Just calm down!” Waverly said, throwing an arm around her waist from behind. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Let me go!” Britney struggled violently to escape, wildly swinging her arms and legs. Surprised by her strength, Waverly had to work hard to restrain her.

  When he tried to cover her mouth with his hand, she bit him.

  “Ow!” Waverly yelled. “Please stop and listen to me. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Britney continued to fling her arms like a windmill. Waverly finally lifted her high in the air. “I’ll let you go, but only if you stop fighting me.”

  “I read that newspaper article about you murdering your clients!” Britney cried. “Please don’t kill me!”

  “That article never said I was murdering my clients,” Waverly shouted, “because I’m not. But somebody else is. I’m only here to keep you from becoming the next victim.”

  The intensity of her movements slowed and she finally stopped struggling. Waverly could feel her chest heave up and down from the workout.

  “If I let you go, are you going to cooperate?”

  Britney nodded slowly.

  Waverly put her back on the ground, but kept a firm grip around her waist.

  “I just want to talk to you, okay?”

  She nodded again and he finally released her. She turned to face him and he saw sheer fright in her eyes.

  “We need to sit down and talk,” Waverly said.

  “In here.” Britney shakily pointed toward a tiny living room. Just as Waverly took a step in that direction, Britney dashed down the hallway and Waverly took off after her. She reached the bathroom seconds ahead of him. She darted inside and tried to close the door, but Waverly managed to get an arm inside.

  “Ow!” Waverly yelled, as Britney pressed against the door, trapping his arm. “You’re going to break my arm!”

  “Get out of my apartment!”

  “Just listen to me,” Waverly pleaded, his arm throbbing in pain. “Let me get my arm out of the door and I’ll step back so you can close it. But I really need you to listen to me.”

  Waverly waited and Britney finally released her pressure on the bathroom door and he pulled his arm free. She quickly closed and locked the door.

  “If you want the money back, I’ll give it to you,” she screeched through the door. “But please don’t kill me!”

  Now, Waverly had reason to be fearful. The neighbors were likely to call the police any minute if he didn’t quiet her down. “I told you I’m not here to hurt you. I need you to listen to my story. I’m going to tell you everything. Things my wife doesn’t even know. And when I’m done, you’re going to have to trust me.”

  “No, wait!” Britney whimpered. “I have to tell you something first. Somebody just—”

  “No,” Waverly interrupted. “You can tell me later. I need you to listen to me first.”

  Waverly pressed his head against the door and began telling Britney his story. All of it. He started with being disbarred, then explained how he had landed in the viatical business. When he got to the part about his brother being beaten up and Rico threatening Deidra, he heard Britney gasp and hoped that meant she believed him.

  “I didn’t know somebody was killing my clients,” he said through the door. “I swear I didn’t. I’m only here because I was concerned that you might be next. You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. Do you understand? Do you believe me?”

  After a long pause, he heard the click of the lock and Britney opened the door. “Thank you for caring about me.” She threw her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest.

  Waverly hoped she wasn’t just humoring him until she had
another opportunity to escape. “I have to tell you something,” she said.

  “You can tell me later. We have to get out of here because—”

  “No, I have to tell you now!” Britney insisted. “Somebody just got shot downstairs!”

  Waverly could feel her body quivering. “What? When?”

  “Just now. In my garage.”

  “Please don’t let them get me, too!”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I had just left the garage and stepped into the stairwell with my groceries when I heard this couple arguing. I put down my groceries and cracked open the door to watch. The woman kept telling the guy to leave her alone, but he wouldn’t. Then he grabbed her and hit her and started choking her. She pulled out a gun and told him she was going to shoot him and he backed away. I got scared and picked up my groceries. The next thing I heard was a gunshot.”

  Waverly rushed back down the hallway to the front of the apartment. He peered through a small slit in the curtains to the street below. Cop cars were everywhere. It didn’t seem likely that the shooting had a connection to Rico, but Waverly wasn’t taking any chances.

  He turned back to Britney. “The police will probably be going door-to-door interviewing tenants and looking for witnesses. We need to get out of here. Is there a back way out?”

  CHAPTER 66

  Dre sat in the back of a police cruiser, cradling Angela as she bawled hysterically into his chest.

  He felt like everything around him was spinning out of control and he couldn’t make it stop. Within minutes of the shooting, cops with guns drawn flooded the garage. At first, they had talked in harsh, angry tones, ordering them both to put their hands up. They were roughly frisked and had questions thrown at them faster than they could respond.

  But when Angela told them she was an assistant U.S. attorney, which an officer confirmed by pulling her credentials from her purse, everything changed. She actually knew one of the female cops from her stint as a deputy D.A. They went from accusing and condescending to deferential and concerned.