Influence

by Carl Weber

  “Morning, Iris.” Langston smiled at her then hesitantly took a seat at the kitchen table. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep, which was understandable. After the events the day before, I hadn’t slept much myself; but then again, I barely got five hours of sleep on any given night anyway. “Morning, Dad.”

  “Morning, son. How’re you feeling?” I asked to let him know that my calm demeanor from last night was still intact.

  “Like crap,” he answered, visibly relaxing now that he knew I wasn’t going to be reprimanding him at the breakfast table. “I’m really worried about the guys.”

  “That’s understandable. I just hope they are as worried about you as you are them.” It was time to bring Langston into reality.

  “Dad, they’re in jail. I don’t think they have time to be worried about the guy who abandoned them.”

  I’d never seen him like this. He looked like he was ready to walk over to that jail and turn himself in—and that worried me.

  “You didn’t abandon them. Your parents came to your rescue and bailed you out,” I reminded him. “I’m sure their parents will do the same.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me as if I were the enemy. “Are you kidding me? Where the hell is Tony’s mom going to get the money to bail him out?”

  “Coffee, Mr. Langston?” Iris asked. I was sure she was trying to relieve some of the tension in the room. It worked, because Langston took some of the gruffness out of his voice.

  “Yes, please,” Langston told her, pointing to the carafe of orange juice sitting in the center of the table.

  Iris had worked for our family for years and had the tendency to cater to Langston when he was home from school. However, his being here was far from a typical weekend or vacation visit. This was serious. Langston and his friends’ mugshots had been plastered all over the news and on the front page of the newspaper. I was certain that Iris had seen it, in addition to her constantly having to answer the phone, which had been ringing nonstop all morning. I had finally turned my own cell phone off for the same reason. I knew that she was making an effort to make things as normal as possible, which I appreciated.

  “Give us a minute, will you, Iris?”

  “Yes. I’ll make you some pancakes, Mr. Langston.”

  “Thank you, Iris,” Langston replied, and she left the room.

  “I need to ask you a very serious question, son.” I used the word son instead of his name because I wanted him to know that it was coming from his father and not his lawyer. “And if you can’t be honest with me, I want you to be honest with yourself.”

  “I don’t know who the drugs belong to, Dad,” he replied, anticipating my question.

  “Well, that was your boy Krush’s father.” Lamont came in and interrupted our conversation.

  Langston sat up in his chair and asked his brother, “Was he asking if you were representing Krush?”

  “Yeah, but I think he was more concerned about whether we were going to bail him out than anything else. I told him I was trying to set up a bail reduction hearing, but it was going to take a few days.” Lamont sat down and sipped a cup of coffee that was in front of him. “But he’s going to be a pain in the ass about us putting up the funds to get his son out.” He turned to my father. “Should I just flat out tell this guy it’s not happening?”

  “What? No! I thought you said you were going to help them. You gotta help get them out. Dad, tell him.” Langston turned his attention to me for help, but I had none to offer.

  “Langston, we’ll do the best we can to help, but—”

  He cut me off. “That’s not good enough!”

  “You little spoiled college brat, do you realize what we had to do to get you out?” Lamont grabbed a bagel from the middle of the table and plopped it onto his plate. “They had to put up this house. Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Langston glanced over at me. “Yes, I know, and I’m grateful, but this isn’t the only house we have.”

  Lamont frowned. “I know you’re not suggesting we put up the house in Sag Harbor or L.A. to get your frat brothers out of jail, are you?”

  “You make it seem like they’re some random guys that I happen to take class with, and you know that’s not true. These guys are more than my frat brothers. They’re like family, and yeah, I’m asking Dad to look out for them the same way he looked out for me,” Langston told him. “Shit, they’re your frat brothers too. What if this were John, Kyle, or Wimpy?”

  “Hey, man, I can dig it. I love my frat brothers, too. So does Dad. But I love my real brother, my flesh and blood, even more, and he’s who I need to be worried about right now. That’s my priority,” Lamont told him rather eloquently.

  “They are my real broth—”

  “Langston, listen to me. I know you’re worried about Tony, Kwesi, and Krush, but Lamont is right. Right now you need to be worried about yourself. You’re in deep trouble, and our main focus is trying to figure out how we’re going to handle it,” I explained patiently.

  “But, Dad—”

  “The fact of the matter is I don’t know those boys well enough to put my homes on the line,” I told him.

  “Do you even know them well enough, is the question.” Lamont spread cream cheese on his bagel and took a bite.

  “Yes, I know them well enough,” Langston replied indignantly.

  “Well, if you do, then can you please tell me which one of them put that heroin in the back of your car?” Lamont asked.

  I turned and looked at Langston, waiting for his answer.

  He paused for a moment, but it wasn’t because he was preparing to give an answer. Finally, he said, “I can’t believe this shit! Why can’t you just give them the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Because I’ve been a lawyer a long time, and Dad’s been one even longer. Now, you don’t realize the severity of this situation, but let me make it very clear. You could be going to jail for a long time behind this crap, and it’s time you start realizing it.” Lamont stared at him intensely.

  “But they weren’t my drugs!” Langston shouted at him. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  “Until a judge throws the case out or a jury acquits you, that’s how long,” Lamont answered, and I could see the frustration and anger in Langston’s face.

  “Langston, the drugs were found in your car; a car that you were driving. That makes you the prime suspect out of all four of you. So, all your brother and I care about right now is finding a way to get you out of this. Then we’ll worry about your friends,” I said, hoping he would understand the practical nature or our dilemma. But I could tell by Langston’s face that he just didn’t want to hear me.

  Lamont exploded. “Fuck those guys! It’s time to start thinking about yourself!”

  “Your father and brother are right.”

  We all turned to see Jacqueline standing in the dining room doorway. “One of them put that package in the back of your car. It didn’t just get in there by itself.”

  She entered the room. “Morning Lamont,” she said, touching his shoulder.

  “Hey, Ma,” Lamont said, but he didn’t get out of his chair.

  “Morning, Ma.” Langston stood and gave his mother a hug.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Jacqueline kissed his cheek then glanced at me and said, “Bradley.”

  “Jacqueline.” I nodded. I hadn’t heard the doorbell ring. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d walked in unannounced. We’d been divorced for years, but she seemed to think she was still entitled to the freely roam the house she no longer resided in.

  “Just so you know, there are three press trucks outside,” she told me.

  Lamont stood up and peeked out the window as she turned to Langston. “Honey, why don’t you come and stay at my place for a while? This is the last place you need to be.”

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Langston told her. “Simone is on her way here. We’re going to drive out to Sag Harbor and spend the day.”

  I saw the disapp
ointed look on Jacqueline ’s face and tried not to enjoy it.

  “Langston, we have a lot of things to go over to figure out a strategy to get you out of this mess. The last thing you need is Simone distracting you and being in the way,” Jacqueline said, her distaste evident in her voice. “I don’t know why you even called her over here anyway.”

  “Because she’s my girlfriend,” Langston said, “and she’s not going to be in the way.”

  “And because she’s welcome here, unlike some people.”

  For the second time that morning, our attention was drawn to the entryway of the dining room. This time, when we all turned, it was my beautiful wife Carla standing there staring at us. My eyes went from her to Jacqueline, and I slowly let out the air that I had sucked in when I heard her voice. My current wife and my ex got along like oil and water. The problem was that they were both Alpha females with similar personalities. Both women thrived on power, and this morning, they seemed ready for war.

  “Good morning, honey.” I stood up and greeted my wife.

  “Good morning.” She smiled at me then turned to Jacqueline . “I wasn’t expecting your arrival this early.”

  “I came to check on my son to make sure he was fine and sit down with my family to come up with a plan for him.” Jacqueline gave her a fake smile. “I hope you won’t feel left out?”

  The tension in the dining room was so thick that I could hardly breathe. I could see Jacqueline ’s nostrils flaring, and Lamont looked like he wanted to get up and run. Everyone was uncomfortable, and no one spoke.

  The doorbell rang, and Langston jumped up from the table.

  “I never feel left out in my house. The trouble is you keep forgetting that it is my house and not yours. So, if you can’t respect it, you can get out. I’m sure things will be a lot more productive without you.” Carla gave her a fake smile back. “Isn’t that right, Bradley?”

  Before I could answer, Jacqueline snapped, “Honey, there’s no need for you to feel threatened. I’ve already been the woman of this house and have no desire to resume that position. It’s yours. And for the record, this has nothing to do with Bradley either. It’s about my son. So, like it or not, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Now, I’m gonna be here doing any and everything to keep his ass out of jail, whether you like it or not.” She pointed at Lamont. “Now, Lamont, call your sister and Perk and tell them to get their asses over here. We got work to do.”

  Kwesi

  24

  I stood in the corner of the recreation room of building C74 at Rikers Island, trying my best to remain inconspicuous so that no one would notice the look of terror on my face. I’d watched enough American TV to know that if the wrong person sensed fear, I would become a target, and there was no telling what would happen to me. Hiding my fear was no easy task with my red, swollen eyes. I’d never cried as much as I had the night before.

  “Adamack! Adamack!” one of the guards yelled. At first, I ignored him, pretending to be engrossed in the well-worn copy of some book I happened to find in the cell where I’d spent the night. That is, until I realized he was walking toward me.

  “Adamack!”

  I straightened up and asked politely, “Adomako?”

  “What the fuck ever. I’m talking to you. Come on, let’s go,” he said, standing over me.

  “Go where? Am I being released?” A momentary feeling of relief came over me.

  “Hell no, you ain’t being released, fool. You got a lawyer visitor.” He led me out of the room.

  Although I wasn’t being released yet, I was still hopeful. Maybe it was Langston’s father who had come to see me. He would know what to do to get me out of there, unlike the useless Legal Aid lawyer who had represented me at my arraignment.

  I was escorted into a small room. As soon as I entered, I was grabbed and pulled into a tight embrace. It scared me, and I initially tried to fight it off, until my mother’s voice broke through my disorientation.

  “Kwesi, my son. My beloved son, are you all right?”

  I wrapped my arms around my mother, who was sobbing into my chest.

  “Mother!” I shouted.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice was low as she squeezed me tighter.

  “Yes, Mother, I’m fine.”

  She looked up at me and touched my face. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve been crying. Did anyone hurt you? Oh my God, I cannot believe this.”

  “No, no one hurt me, Mother. I’m fine, I promise.” I refused to tell her how scared I was.

  “I could not believe it when they called and said you were in jail. I knew it must be some mistake. My son would never be in jail. Not my Kwesi. He is a good boy!”

  “Is she correct? Are you innocent of this crime?” My father’s deep voice echoed in the small room. I turned around to see him dressed in a simple black suit and tie, glaring at my mother and me over the wire-rimmed glasses that sat on the edge of his nose. I released my mother and stood in front of him. The look of disappointment that he wore on his face made me feel even more ashamed than I already was.

  “Father,” I started, but before I could say another word, he held up a palm to stop me.

  “Answer me, Kwesi. Are you innocent of transporting these drugs? Or have we been sending you to college to get a degree in stupidity?”

  “Akwasi!” My mother stepped beside me.

  “Father, I did not do this. There has been a mistake. I should not be here.” The words rushed desperately from my mouth.

  “This is what happens when you do not concentrate on your studies. I told you that joining this fraternity was beneath you. They are nothing but a bunch of spoiled, lazy students who do not have a sense of honor and pride for their families or this great country we live in. I have warned you time and time again to be careful about the company you keep, and now look at what’s happened!” my father yelled. “You have disgraced us all.”

  “Akwasi! Now is not the time to be critical.”

  I’d never heard my mother raise her voice to my father like that. My father was also typically mild in nature. Seeing him this emotional caused as much fear in me as the inmates I had just left. I swallowed hard.

  “Mr. Adomako.”

  I looked beyond my father and saw two men sitting at a table that I hadn’t noticed before. The one who had called my father’s name was a tall black man with a bald head. His skin was just as dark as mine and my father’s, but from his accent and the way he carried himself, he seemed American. He stood up and approached us.

  “Who are you?” I asked him, hoping he was with the Hudson Group. “Are you my new lawyer?”

  “No, my name’s James Brown. I’m an assistant district attorney for the City of New York.”

  “Oh,” I said with disappointment. “I don’t think I should be talking to you without a lawyer.”

  “Well, then it’s a good thing Mr. Kimba is here.” He pointed to the other man, who was now standing by his side.

  “Hello, I’m Kenneth Kimba.” The man extended his hand to me, and I shook it. It seemed kind of suspicious that these two were so chummy.

  I turned back to James Brown and said, “So, you’re the prosecutor? Why are you here? I shouldn’t be talking with you. I should be talking with him.” I turned to the man who was supposed to be my lawyer.

  My father interjected, “You don’t get to ask questions, young man. And if you must know, he’s here to help you.”

  “Help me how, Father?” I asked.

  “He’s here to offer you a deal,” Mr. Kimba told me.

  “A deal for what? I haven’t done anything. Why do I need a deal if I’m not guilty?” I turned to my father, my eyes pleading with him to believe me.

  “Kwesi, I don’t believe you’ve done anything,” ADA Brown said, giving me some small consolation. “But you were in the car where the drugs were found, which makes you guilty by association. I want to help you get out of here, and I can, but you’ve got to tell me who that heroin belonged to.”


  I stared at him blankly. “I honestly don’t know who it belongs to. I just know it isn’t mine. I don’t do drugs, nor sell them. As a matter of fact, why don’t you give me a polygraph test right now and a drug test?” I suggested.

  “I see someone’s been watching lots of Law and Order,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because it’s not admissible in court,” Mr. Kimba said.

  “So, what is it that you want me to do? Lie about one of my friends?”

  “Your friends? Where are your friends now?” my father asked angrily. “Why aren’t you with them? They have their own attorney and left you with a million-dollar bail to fend for yourself. Your mother and I hired Mr. Kimba to help you get out of this situation. Spent our hard-earned money, and you’re worried about your friends?”

  His words stung and shocked me at the same time. Had my friends left me high and dry? Had Langston gotten his father to defend everyone else but me? Why was I the only one in Rikers? Had they been released and left me alone?

  “It’s not about my friends,” I protested. “It’s about telling the truth. I do not know who the drugs belonged to. I’d never seen them before.”

  “Let me explain something to you, young man. I was hoping that you’d be a little more cooperative, considering that I’m on your side here. But I’m going to say this: if you don’t tell me who the drugs belong to and where they came from, I will have my friends at the state department revoke your family’s visas and have ICE pick them up and ship them out on the first thing smoking.” ADA Brown’s face revealed no emotion.

  “No!” My mother gasped and reached for my father’s hand.

  “You can’t do that. You have no right,” I said, resisting the urge to punch him.

  “Can I speak with you in the hallway for a second, Mr. Brown?” Mr. Kimba said.

  “We can chat on my way out.” ADA Brown stared at me.

  The two of them walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my parents. I sat down in a nearby chair. My father sat in one of the seats beside me.