by Carl Weber
“Yes, those are wise words,” Kwesi added. I wondered if he was also trying to hide his nerves, because dude sounded as cool as a cucumber.
I glanced back over at Langston, who was finally pulling the car over.
“Now, everyone try to act normal. You got that?” I looked to Krush and Kwesi, who nodded their understanding. The look on Lang’s face and the beads of sweat on his forehead, on the other hand, were anything but normal. In fact, it screamed of guilt.
“Take a deep breath, frat. We gonna get through this,” I said softly.
I looked in the passenger’s side mirror at a white NYPD highway cop who was flying solo. We weren’t in Brooklyn anymore, that was for sure, because the cops didn’t fly solo in my neck of the woods—at least not the ones who wanted to stay alive.
“This is useless,” Langston said, now waving his hands around to fan the smell out of his driver’s side window. “And the evidence is right there in the ashtray.”
“Not anymore it isn’t.” I opened the ashtray and took the blunt out.
“What are you doing, man?” Langston asked me in panic. “You got the evidence all out in the open now. Oh God, we’re definitely going to jail.
“What evidence?” I said before putting the blunt in my mouth and swallowing that shit down. “Now, would you calm down? If your old man could see you now, he’d probably disown you.”
Langston stiffened in his seat at the mention of his pops. Meanwhile, I glanced in the side mirror, where I could see the officer headed toward us wearing reflective sunglasses, an eight-point stormtrooper police hat, knee-high boots, and a heavy-ass leather jacket. I turned my face forward as he walked up slowly to the driver’s side of the car.
“License, registration, and insurance,” was all he said.
“Uh, morning, officer. Beautiful day, isn’t it? Supposed to be almost seventy today,” Lang stuttered as he reached into the glove compartment for his paperwork.
I didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. This guy wasn’t the cashier at Starbucks. He was a damn cop, a white cop at that, and he didn’t look like the type who’d be interested in Lang’s small talk. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I couldn’t because it felt like the cop was staring directly at me. Damn, we really needed Lang’s ass to just chill.
“Where you boys headed today?” the officer asked Langston in a casual yet condescending tone.
“School.” Kwesi, Krush, and I all spoke in unison. It went without saying that none of us really wanted Langston to do the talking. He might give the guy our life stories.
“We’re, uh, all students, sir,” Kwesi said. He was doing the right thing, but I was not sure if his accent was helping. “We were visiting with our parents. We are on our way back to the university.”
“Is that so?” the officer asked, his tone now laced with suspicion.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“What school you fellas attend?” the officer asked.
“We attend Howard University,” Kwesi continued.
“That’s down there in D.C., isn’t?”
“Excuse me, officer, uh . . . I didn’t get your name,” Langston asked as he handed him the documents.
The cop narrowed his eyes at Langston. “Officer Blake. You want my badge number too?”
“No, thank you, Officer Blake. I can see that just fine from here,” Lang replied. I stared at him with my mouth open, and I was sure the guys in the back were doing the same thing. “What I would like to know is why you pulled me over,” Lang continued.
What the fuck was he doing? He had taken that comment about his old man a little too seriously for me, and now he was using this condescending, lawyer-like tone that was sure to piss this cop off and put us all in deeper shit.
“Yeah,” Krush said boldly. “Was we speeding or something?”
I wanted to reach back there and slap him. With a smirk on his face, the officer bent down and began looking in the back seat at Kwesi and Krush.
Shit, we’re in trouble. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Why couldn’t these idiots have just kept their mouths shut?
“No, you weren’t. As a matter of fact, you were going a little slow to be highway driving. I thought something might have been wrong. But from the smell of things,”—he sniffed the air, moving back to the driver’s window—“I think you were just a little distracted.”
Langston let out a nervous laugh. “What do you mean by that, Officer?”
Officer Blake slowly rose back up into an erect, standing position. “Come on, now. You mean to tell me you don’t smell that?” He let out a taunting chuckle.
This wasn’t looking good. We were so busted, but all hope wasn’t lost. Regardless of what the officer smelled, I’d made sure there was no evidence. I would probably be shitting green plants for a week.
“Smoke was damn near seeping through the windows,” Officer Blake said. “And the way you all were fanning when I was calling in your plates . . .” His face straightened up. “I think you boys were smoking pot in here.”
“No,” we all said in unison. I shot a side glance at Langston and shook my head.
“We were fanning because I passed gas, officer,” I said, waving my hand in my face. “It was really bad. If you smell anything, that’s probably what it is.”
“Do you boys think I’m some kind of idiot?” Officer Blake asked, sounding quite offended.
“Noooo,” we all said, once again in unison. The fact that the scent of weed was filtering through the car, out of the windows, and probably smack into his face didn’t help. In short, we were fucked.
“Look, Officer, despite what you may think you smelled, there’s no evidence we were smoking or had any marijuana,” Langston stated with confidence. I swear I wanted to punch him in his arrogant-ass face. “So, if you’re going to give me a ticket, give it to me, because we have a long ride to D.C.,” he finished.
“You know what? You’re a real smart-ass, aren’t you?”
“He didn’t mean anything by it, Officer,” I said, making a last-ditch effort to smooth things out. Langston blew up that effort in an instant.
“Don’t speak for me, Tony,” he snapped. “I have my own mouth to speak with. And no, Officer Blake, I’m not a smart-ass, but I do know my rights.”
All I could do was lower my head, because Lang was talking with the swagger of his father. His tone was all ego, and I knew there was no turning back for him now that he was channeling his father’s personality.
One by one, the cop gave us the once over. His glare was almost menacing. “Okay, everyone out of the car.”
“Thanks a lot, Lang,” I grumbled as I reached for the door handle.
Bradley
4
“Please have a seat. Someone will be with you momentarily.”
Her tone was pleasant enough, but I could see right through the receptionist’s fake smile the second she hesitated on the phone. I glanced down at my watch. We were right on time. Certainly, they were all prepared for us and waiting. They had probably met a good fifteen minutes earlier, joking about how easy this win was going to be. The smiley receptionist was just doing her boss’s dirty work, but that was okay. That was her job and what she got paid for. Well, her bosses were in for a big surprise when they saw my black face, because while she was paid to be a gatekeeper, we got paid to win cases, big cases. I say “we” as in me and my son, Lamont, my first born and protégé.
I smiled knowingly then looked toward the chairs in the reception area. Turning to walk away, I realized when I reached the chairs that Lamont hadn’t budged. He and the receptionist were busy giving each other googly eyes. Had I not known this case was going to be a slam dunk, I probably would have allowed Lamont to use his skills of persuasion to play the young lady to our advantage, but we could tuck that quarter away in his pocket and save it for a rainy day, because this case was over the minute I had agreed to take it. Besides, I couldn’t be a hypocrite when it came to Lamont and his ov
erly active libido. That was something I always stayed on him about. The legacy of the Hudson family was that of viciously dangerous, smart lions, not dogs in heat, and I wasn’t going to allow him to damage something I had worked decades to create.
“May I, uh, offer you a drink?” the receptionist asked, staring directly at Lamont as she sat up a little straighter so that her ample breasts were front and center on display. “Water? Coffee? Anything?”
“We’re good. Thanks.” I jumped before Lamont got a chance to rattle off what his choice of “anything” might have been. At least the sound of my voice reminded the two of them that someone else was in the room, as they both shot their attention to me. “Come on, Lamont.”
He broke his gaze from the receptionist and settled in to the seat next to me.
I had to give opposing counsel credit for good taste. Their reception area was more comfortable than my office. They showed poor judgement in leaving a hungry shark waiting, but good taste in decor. Clearly, Lamont was impressed as well. He plopped down in a chair, slightly bouncing to test the comfort and durability of his chair.
“Now, see, Pop, this is how we need to model our office to go after the big dollars. Downtown, a view, valet parking . . .”
“We already have big clients, and we are not leaving Harlem. We own the building.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t have a second office down here.”
Watching my son in all of his excitement over the chair, it reminded me of the year he got his first two-wheel bike under the Christmas tree. He had tested out that seat pretty much the same way he was doing now. A slight smile teased my face.
“You’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, haven’t you?”
“I believe we owe it to ourselves to get a slice of the corporate cake, Pop. It’s a logical growth area for us, and we’ve never tapped into it.”
I looked around at the flat-screen television with a picture so clear I felt as if Chris Cuomo was sitting in a chair right across from me. The fish tank was large enough for a damn mermaid to live in. I must say that I wouldn’t have been mad to have my nameplate attached to one of those heavy cherry wood doors, but that wasn’t really my dream. Maybe it was Lamont’s, but not mine. I’d always been an uptown guy. For me, the pillar of success was having my adversaries in the courtroom become immediately perturbed at the sight of my name on a court document because they knew I was going to be hard to beat. I took pride in the number of cases that I had won over the years, and although I didn’t have the flashy office and wasn’t the most well-liked attorney in the state of New York, I had earned the respect of my colleagues and those on the bench. That was my dream, and I’d pretty much lived it for the past twenty-five years.
“I believe we owe it to our client to stay focused on why we’re here.” I looked straight ahead at the wall.
“But you have to admit that—”
The annoyed look I shot Lamont let him know to dead the conversation and prevented him from finishing his thought. However, it didn’t stop him from looking around the office in continued amazement and envy.
“Looks like they’re playing right into our hands,” Lamont said quietly.
“Yep, it’s part of the game, that’s all,” I said, noticing him anxiously checking his watch. It amused me that now that he was no longer entertained by the receptionist or the exquisite office decor, he was concerned about how long we’d been waiting. “They want us to think they have more important business than what we’re here for. They figure we’ll sit out here and be impressed by carpets, paintings, and pretty women. Bullshit like that.”
“Yeah, but, of course, we know better.” He chuckled, and I laughed right along with him. He was still learning, but sooner or later, he’d no longer allow himself to be distracted by the pretty things that opponents would put in his path to try to throw him off his game.
Lamont’s phone rang. The volume sounded as if it was on its max.
“Kill that,” I said, shooting him an annoyed look.
“All right,” he said while checking his caller ID screen. “But it’s Dez.” He looked at me to see if I would change my position just because his sister was on the line. It didn’t, especially since she was supposed to be at this meeting with us.
Just then, I saw a gentleman heading toward us. “I don’t have time to listen to her excuses right now. I’ll deal with her later. This looks like us.”
“Hello,” the gentleman approached and greeted. I stood as he extended his hand.
“I’m Peter, one of the associates.” We shook hands. “My apologies for the wait. We had some important business to finish up.”
Important business, my ass. Lamont and I shot one another a look, a smirk dancing at the corner of my mouth.
“I completely understand, Peter,” I said.
“Good. Then why don’t you follow me?” He extended his hand toward the large, wood door.
Langston
5
When you’re driving down the highway and you see a black or Latino guy sitting on the side of the road while the cops search his car, have you ever wondered what that guy must feel like? Well, now had I firsthand knowledge of it because my frat brothers Kwesi, Krush, Tony, and I were all sitting on the grass in cuffs, watching the cops search my car. It had to be the most humiliating feeling I’d ever experienced.
There were two cops on the scene now, but Officer Blake, the one who pulled us over in the first place, was the one searching the car, while the other cop stood in front of us. I glanced over at the fellas, but none of them would look my way. I couldn’t believe they were blaming this on me when it was Krush who had pulled out the blunt and started smoking it.
After about ten minutes, Officer Blake walked over from the car, looking annoyed. He took a deep breath and relaxed his tense shoulders as if trying to regain his professional composure. “Now, I’m going to ask you boys one time whose pot this is.” He held up a quarter-ounce bag of weed, slowly walking by each of us. “And if I don’t a get satisfactory answer, I’m hauling all your asses in, and we can sort it out in front of the judge.”
Fuck! Things had just gone from bad to worse.
Tony, Kwesi, and I shared concerned looks with one another. Of course, we knew who the weed belonged to, but Krush would never fess up. I had already been accepted into law school. No way did I need this on my record.
Dammit, what would Dad do in a situation like this?
I really couldn’t be sure what my father would do, but he was never one to back down, so I took my best guess that he would put up a fight. Clearing my throat, I tried to display some of my father’s strength as I spoke up.
“Officer Blake,” I started, “I didn’t give you permission to search my car. You do know you’re violating my rights against illegal search and seizure, don’t you? You didn’t have a search warrant, and I didn’t give you permission.” I sat up and forced myself to stare at him in an imitation of confidence—though I was scared to death at the moment.
“Lang, will you shut the fuck up?” Tony snapped.
Blake laughed walking over to the other cop. “Maybe these kids need to be taught a lesson. Just because you go to college doesn’t mean you know everything.”
The other cop nodded, looking directly at me. I had obviously misjudged the situation and was starting to wish I’d just kept my mouth shut.
“For the record, young man, the moment I smelled marijuana, I had probable cause to search your vehicle. So, I didn’t need your permission or a search warrant,” Blake responded.
There was nothing I could say in response.
“Damn, Lang, to be going to law school next year, you sure are stupid sometimes,” Tony added. I didn’t respond to him either, because he was right.
“So, what do you want to do?” the other cop asked Blake. “You wanna haul their smart asses in?”
Before Officer Blake could respond, Krush raised his hand, surprising us all. “Officer, that’s my weed.” From the lo
ok on Krush’s face, he’d surprised his own damn self. As a matter of fact, he looked like he wanted to change his mind and use that raised hand to point his finger at one of us. Thankfully, it was too late. Officer Blake had already acknowledged his admission of guilt. Krush swallowed hard, no doubt realizing he was now at the point of no return. “These guys had nothing to do with it. In fact, Langston tried to stop me.” Krush turned to me with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m really sorry, bro. This is all my fault. I take full responsibility.”
I gave Krush a forgiving head nod. I really felt sorry for him, but as heartwarming as this Hallmark moment was, we were certainly not out of the woods yet. I turned my attention to Officer Blake to get a feel for how he was receiving this display of brotherhood. Sure, I was glad Krush had stepped up, but I was now scared to death for him.
Officer Blake stood there for a moment, looking from Krush to me. “Get up.” He pointed at me and then Krush, gesturing with his hand for us to stand. I don’t know about Krush, but I was so scared that my legs felt like jelly as I struggled to my feet. It was difficult to balance with handcuffs on, and I got no help from either officer.
Officer Blake stood in front of Krush. “I respect your honesty, young man, and your loyalty to your friends,” he said to Krush. “Anything else in the car? If I call for a dog, is he going to find anything?”
“No, sir,” Krush replied.
“You sure? I’m not going to find anything else in that car, am I?” This time he was speaking to us all.
“Yes, sir, the car’s clean. Just our suitcases and some groceries from our moms,” Krush answered.
“Okay, I’m going to give you a citation for the marijuana, and your wannabe lawyer friend here a ticket for reckless driving.” He placed his hand on Krush’s shoulder, firm enough to make Krush squirm uncomfortably. “Leave the pot alone, kid. I’m letting you off because you’re in college and I don’t want this on your record. Next time, you might not be so lucky.”