Influence

by Carl Weber

  After hours of explaining the same thing over and over to my family, I’d been thankful when Simone showed up. In spite of my mother’s protest, we left and drove out to our summer place in Sag Harbor, where we’d been for the past three days.

  “You’re a liar, and not a good one at that. I know when someone doesn’t like me, and believe me, she doesn’t. She never has.”

  To be quite honest, my mother didn’t like Simone, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

  “She does like you. What’s not to like? You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and you’re sexy as hell.” My hand slipped around her tiny waist and began easing its way to the soft roundness of her ass.

  “I doubt if my sexiness matters to her.” Simone removed my hand from her rear. “Seriously, Langston. How are we ever going to get married if your mother doesn’t like me?” She turned her body to face me.

  “Babe, let’s be honest. You did bring this upon yourself,” I reminded her.

  “Are we really going there again? Is she still pissed because I pledged Delta and not AKA?”

  “It sure as hell didn’t help, Simone. She did offer to write you a letter.”

  “Langston, I was not going to pledge that stuck-up-ass sorority. You know how those girls act on campus.”

  My mother and sister had said the same thing about her sorority, although I didn’t want to tell her that and get stuck in the middle of a sorority war.

  Simone’s phone rang. She rolled over, looked at it and rolled her eyes, and then hit the ignore button.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “It was Kiara again.” She shook her head. “I don’t have time to be answering fifty million questions about shit I don’t have the answers to. She’s already feeling some kind of way because you’re home and Tony’s not.”

  “I can imagine,” I replied. Kiara was Tony’s girlfriend and Simone’s sorority sister. “You think I should talk to her?”

  “No. She’s just going to drive you crazy about getting Tony out. Forget her. You have enough to worry about.”

  “Nah, she’s right. I gotta figure out a way to get them out.”

  “I love your sense of loyalty, but you don’t have three million dollars laying around anywhere, do you?” Simone said. “Is there any way your mom could talk to the judge? A million-dollar bond is ridiculous.”

  “Tell me about it.” I sighed as I got up from the bed and walked to the window that overlooked the bay. “She made a few calls to some friends, but people are starting to distance themselves from her and my father now that I’m collateral damage. But it’s not the bail I’m worried about.”

  Simone came up behind me and wrapped her naked arms around my chest. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s something my family is trying to drill in my head. They want me to believe that one of my friends might be responsible for the drugs.” I turned to her and moved my hands around her waist. “I just can’t, Simone. For me to believe that would destroy everything I know.”

  “Langston . . .” I could tell by her expression that she agreed with my family. She hadn’t verbalized it yet, but I had known from day one that she thought it was one of the fellas, most likely Krush. “If you ask me, if they were your real friends, whoever put that shit in there would step up and confess. That’s what real brothers do. Why should all of y’all take the fall for one?”

  “Don’t. Okay, Simone? Please just don’t say anything else.” I gently pushed her away. “I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

  “Well, you’re going to,” she said adamantly then eased the tone in her voice. “Baby, you have to admit there’s a possibility one of them did it.”

  “I don’t have to admit anything. You might not have faith in them, but I do.”

  “Having faith is great, but acting blindly stupid isn’t.” She stepped forward and closed the distance between us. “Now, you can lie to me, your parents, and the whole darn world, but you can’t lie to yourself, Langston. You say you want to be a lawyer, so what would you say to a client who was in your situation?” I knew Simone was trying to help, but she was doing more harm than good, because she was forcing me to think.

  “You’ve been around them. None of them would do anything to hurt me.” I tried to state my case, but I was losing. I didn’t want to believe the drugs belonged to one of my friends, but I knew that to anyone else, the question was obvious: if they hadn’t come from one of my friends, then where did they come from?

  “Not purposely, but one of them put that package in the trunk,” she said.

  “And how do you know that?” I tried to hold onto a glimmer of hope as she wrapped her arms around me again.

  “Because I know you didn’t do it, and if you didn’t do it, the odds say one of them did.” Her words entered my mind like a sledgehammer up against concrete. I refused to allow them to enter my thoughts. I just sat there silently, trying to comprehend the idea that one of my frat brothers would betray my trust.

  “Listen,” she said, “why don’t we take a quick trip so you can clear your head, give you some time to think?” she suggested. “Sun in our face, sand beneath our feet, and me by your side.”

  “I can’t go anywhere. I don’t even have my car, and yours barely made it here,” I told her.

  “Well, we can fly somewhere. We’ve been talking about learning how to paddleboard all winter. No better time than the present.” Simone rubbed my back encouragingly.

  “No can do. The judge made me surrender my passport.” I sighed and went back to the bed, where I lay down with my hands beneath my head. “Plus, what if they need me in court?”

  Simone climbed on top of me. “We can go to Puerto Rico this weekend. They don’t have court on the weekends, and you don’t need a passport to go there. It’s a U.S. territory, despite our president not knowing it.”

  “Some fun in the sun would be nice,” I conceded.

  “Of course it will. I’ll make all the arrangements. Okay?”

  I stared at her dimpled smile and bright eyes. Meeting her and making her my girl was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. A quick weekend getaway with her was sounding better and better. My eyes traveled to her full breasts, and I imagined seeing them in a cute bikini—and all the things I could do to her on a secluded beach.

  “Shit, why not? They don’t seem to need me around here anyway.”

  She clapped her hands excitedly. “I’ll go online later and find us some cheap flights.” Leaning over, she kissed me full on the mouth, then began working her way down. It wasn’t long before I forgot all about my boys and the legal troubles we were facing.

  Krush

  28

  “Pleasure doin’ business with you, gentlemen,” I said sarcastically, scooping up the ten packs of cookies I’d won playing cards. I’d only been in lockup a couple of days, but I was starting to get the hang of this jail shit. I wish I could say the same thing for Tony, who was sitting in a chair by himself, isolated from the rest of the inmates.

  I walked over to him and tossed him a pack of cookies. He ripped it open and jammed one in his mouth. I’d been looking out for Tony the best I could, but that sitting in a corner not talking to anyone shit wasn’t working, because brothers were starting to size him up.

  “Tony, man, you need to wake the fuck up and get out of the corner. Dudes is starting to whisper, and that ain’t really safe,” I told him.

  He stared at me blankly, chewing away on a second cookie.

  “Shit, what we need to do is pick out a couple of punk-ass niggas and whip their asses to let everybody know we’re not to be fucked with,” I suggested, half joking.

  He just rolled his eyes, but Tony wasn’t gonna be rolling his eyes when they jacked him. Hell, if he wasn’t my man, I’d probably jack him too just for being the weirdo in the corner. Tony didn’t understand that the key to surviving in jail was all about exuding confidence.

  A guard interrupted my little pep talk when he came in and announced, �
��Wright, you have a visitor.”

  “A visit?” The only person that would be visiting me was my mom, or maybe this little Zeta chick Cherelle from back at school. “I’ll be back, Tony. While I’m gone, man, maybe you could snap the fuck out of your little funk, huh?”

  He shrugged and stuffed another cookie in his mouth.

  I headed toward the CO’s desk, and then I was directed to a big-ass room with a whole bunch of metal tables and chairs. I almost turned right back around when I saw the familiar face at one of the tables. He looked very uncomfortable and way, way out of place. Unfortunately, turning around wasn’t an option once my father’s gaze found mine.

  What the fuck was he doing here? Don’t get me wrong; my old man wasn’t a bad dude. He wasn’t one of those deadbeat dads, wife beaters, or child abusers. He came home every night, and we always had a roof over our heads and food on the table. As far as I knew, he loved my mom and never cheated on her, despite how much of an overbearing pain in the ass she could be. Hell, I loved that woman too, but I don’t think I could be married to her for twenty-five years like he’d been. Shit, other than Langston’s pops, he was probably the only black man I could truly say I had respect for. But along with that came a healthy dose of fear.

  I took in a breath and let it out quickly before heading over to the table where he was sitting alone. Part of me hoped my mother might pop up out of nowhere, but of course, she didn’t. When I reached the table, I stood there, and the two of us just stared at each other, me in my jail jumpsuit, and him in his business suit. He usually wore a tie, but the CO must have taken it from him.

  Finally, he said, “Sit down, Kirby.” I flinched a little, hoping that none of the other inmates had heard him call me by my government name. In here, it would be much better to be known as Krush.

  I did as I was told and sat down, leaning back in the uncomfortable metal chair. “I didn’t think you’d come,” I said softly.

  He slowly shook his head, matching my tone when he spoke. “And I didn’t think I’d ever see my son in jail.”

  Coming from him, those words hurt. “This isn’t my fault.”

  “It’s never your fault, Kirby.”

  I raised my voice. “No, but this really isn’t my fault, Dad.”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me.” He placed his hands flat on the table, probably to stop himself from reaching across it to smack me. “I worked too damn hard to give you everything so you wouldn’t have to go to the streets for it. Hell, I even moved into the white neighborhood to keep you out of the streets, but you still found those hooligans hanging out on the corners, smoking weed and selling drugs.”

  “Dad, that was when I was a minor. They can’t hold that against me.”

  “No, maybe they can’t, but I can. Just because you haven’t been busted doesn’t mean you’re innocent, Kirby. You seem to forget I’m the one who found that pound of marijuana in the shoe box under your bed this past summer.”

  He was right; I’d completely forgotten about that. But shit, he didn’t have to go announcing that in front of all the COs in the room, did he?

  “What do you want from me, Dad? I’m in school, I get good grades, and I got a job waiting for me when I graduate. What do I have to do to make you happy?”

  “You can start by pulling your pants up and wearing a belt.” It was the same shit he’d been telling me for ten years—and I’d been giving him the same answer the whole time.

  “Dad, it’s just a style, part of the hip hop culture I live.”

  He just shook his head and stared at me disapprovingly. It was no different than usual. My dad had never been one to tell me he was proud of me, even before I started fucking up.

  I decided that it was probably best to change the subject. “The Hudsons are going to get my bail reduced, so can you get a bail bondsman to bail me out?”

  “A bails bondsman costs fifteen percent of the bond, Kirby. You don’t get that money back. Your mother and I don’t have that kind of money to be throwing away. We spent all of our money trying to give you a good education.”

  His answer didn’t surprise me. I hadn’t really expected him to say yes, so it was time to go to Plan B, which I was sure he’d agree to. My dad might have been on my case most of the time, but deep down, I knew he loved me, and he was the kind of guy who’d do anything for his family.

  “A’ight, but if they get my bail lowered, can you put up the house? That ain’t gonna cost you nothing. You ain’t gotta put up no cash.”

  He sat there silently for a moment, and I figured he was just making me sweat for a minute. But then he said, “No, Kirby we are not going to put up our house.”

  What the fuck?

  “Come on, Dad. Don’t play games. I know this looks bad, but I’m innocent. I wanna go home,” I said, fighting to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “You’re right; it does look bad, and for your sake, Kirby, I hope you’re innocent. But, son, your mother and I are tired. We don’t have any faith in your innocence, and we’re not about to put up the house we’ve worked thirty years to obtain to find out.”

  “Dad—”

  He shook his head, basically telling me not to bother trying to change his mind.

  “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you? You’re going to leave me in here?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Maybe this will make you understand that life isn’t to be taken for granted, and neither is your freedom.”

  “This is bullshit. I’m calling Mom. She’ll get me out. She’ll make you get me out!” I was shouting now. A guard shot a look in our direction, warning me to calm down.

  “No, she won’t. Your mother is tired, Kirby. She told me to handle everything, and she’d back me one hundred percent. That’s why she’s not here.” He got up and smoothed the wrinkles out of his pants.

  For the first time since I’d arrived at Rikers Island, I had tears in my eyes. “Dad, don’t do this. Dad! Dad!” I watched him walk away. At that moment, I felt nothing but hatred for the one man I loved more than any other in the world.

  Lamont

  29

  The office of Kenneth Kimba and Associates, LLP, was located on Queens Boulevard, above a nail salon, one block away from the Queens County Courthouse. It was much smaller than I expected. Normally a firm with associates has more than a receptionist’s desk with a single door behind it. Nevertheless, the place looked decent, and the receptionist was nice. Besides, I didn’t really care what the office looked like. My only concern was the matter at hand.

  After she seated me and kept me waiting there for more than twenty minutes, I walked over to the receptionist’s desk and asked, “Does Mr. Kimba know that I’m here?”

  “Yes, he knows. I told him when you first arrived.” She was an attractive, albeit pudgy, brown-skinned woman. According to the nameplate on her desk, her name was Meghan.

  “Okay, and our meeting was scheduled for two thirty, correct?” I looked at my watch to make sure it was indeed two fifty and I had a right to question her.

  “Yes, according to the calendar, it is,” she said then went back to typing on the computer in front of her.

  “Would you happen to have any water?” I asked.

  “No, but there’s a vending machine with water and sodas in the hall if you’d like.” Finally, Meghan pulled her eyes from the computer screen and looked up at me. “I can give you change if you’d like.”

  “No, thanks. I’m okay.” I heaved a sigh.

  The look I gave must have embarrassed her, because then she said, “I’m not trying to be rude, and normally we do have bottled water in the fridge, but I’ve been kinda swamped the past few weeks and barely have time to go home to get some sleep at night, let alone stop at Costco to buy water for the office.”

  “I understand. Being a receptionist in a law office isn’t an easy task,” I told her.

  “Especially when you’re the receptionist, the paralegal, and sometimes, on occasion, the pr
ocess server.” She laughed, and I took notice of her high cheekbones.

  “You’re a regular one-woman show,” I joked. “I can appreciate a hardworking woman.”

  “Thank you.” She blushed, and then, sufficiently buttered up, she leaned forward and whispered, “To be honest, he’s in there trying to clean up. He’s a big fan of you and your father.”

  I chuckled, and she joined right in. I was happy to see that my skills for charming women were as good as ever.

  The office door behind her opened, and a tall, dark-skinned man dressed in a sweater vest and bow tie walked out. “Mr. Hudson,” he said in a deep bass voice, “sorry to keep you waiting. You can come on back.”

  I gave Meghan a wink and followed Kenneth Kimba back into his office. Inside was just as basic as the outside. If he’d spent the past twenty minutes straightening up, I would have hated to see what the place looked like before, because it was a mess. There were papers strewn all over his desk, his computer, both chairs, and the bookshelf.

  “How are you, Mr. Kimba? Lamont Hudson.” I extended my hand, and he shook it.

  “Have a seat, Mr. Hudson.” He lifted a pile of papers from one of the chairs and dusted it off so I could sit. “It’s a pleasure to meet a colleague of your caliber. I was hoping to meet your father as well. I have long admired his work.” He walked behind the desk and took a seat.

  “I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “Your message said you wanted to talk about my client, Kwesi Adomako.”

  I nodded. “We represent the other three defendants in the case. I’m here to discuss strategy.”

  He leaned back in his chair and said, “I agree. I think we should work together, but, Mr. Hudson, I’d be remiss if I didn’t make something very clear.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My job is to represent Kwesi Adomako. He is my top priority, and I will only do what is in his best interest.”