by Nikki Turner
“Baby, what is it?”
“It's nothing. I'm okay, really. Actually, I think I feel a headache coming on. Let me run into the apartment real quick to get something before it gets too bad. I'll be right back.”
Renée ran back into her apartment building, looking as beautiful from the back as she did from the front. I hoped she was not having second thoughts about spending Thanksgiving with my family. That would mess up everything I had planned.
RENÉE
I ran to the elevator so fast that I almost fell. I hadn't lied to Chris—a headache was really coming on. My head was throbbing uncontrollably from what I had just heard. I needed to talk to Tank to get some clarification, because right now it seemed to me that he'd been a wanted man for a while, and not just for murder, either. By the time I reached my apartment my heart was racing and my armpits were sweating. I used my house phone to dial Tank.
“What's up?” he answered.
“Tank?” I said, almost out of breath.
“Naw, this Chuck. Who dis?”
I was a little thrown off that I hadn't recognized the voice on the other end as someone's other than Tank's. “I need to talk to Tank.”
“Hold on,” Chuck said.
I heard a couple of female voices in the background before Chuck hit mute. After what seemed like an eternity, Tank came to the phone.
“Hello?” he said.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Oh, hey, baby,” Tank said. “Nothing, we was just, umm, kicking it at Chuck's crib. His girl cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I thought you were gone with that nigga by now.”
Thoughts of Tank's past infidelities suddenly came to mind, overriding the reason I had initially phoned him.
“Sounds like more than Thanksgiving to me,” I said jealously.
“Come on, now. It's not like that.”
“Where were you that you couldn't answer your own phone?”
“I was in the bathroom.”
“That's bullshit, Tank. The only time you take your phone off your hip is when you're fucking. Is that what you were doing? Huh?”
“Baby, look—”
“Fuck that, Tank. I've been playing this game for four months now with Chris, and this is the thanks I get? You out there sticking your dick where it don't belong?”
“Baby, I told you, I was in the bathroom washing my hands,” Tank tried to reassure me.
“Stop fucking calling me baby!” I snapped.
“Okay, look, I'm at this nigga's crib. He got people here. I don't know some of these people. I can't use your name. Somebody might overhear.”
“Tank, go outside now. This is important.”
“This can't wait?”
I sucked my teeth in disgust. “Hell, no, this can't wait. Hurry up, because Chris is downstairs waiting for me in the car, and I don't want him to come up here looking for me.”
“Okay, let me grab my jacket.”
I could hear Tank say something to Chuck. I assumed he was telling him that he had to step outside. I could hear his footsteps as he made his way to the door. He was probably wearing the gators I bought for him last month. He said the shoes were given to him out of guilt because I seemed to be having fun hanging out with Chris. He made the mistake of asking me who was better in bed, and because there was a slight pause in my answer, I think he assumed that my answer was Chris. Not that I would ever have told Tank, but Chris was better. He was more passionate, and gentler. Right about now he was more trustworthy than Tank, too, but all of that didn't matter. Chris was business. What was important was that I needed to warn Tank. Besides, I was positive that I knew the reason Tank didn't answer his phone.
“Okay, talk to me,” Tank said.
“Tank, they're getting a search warrant right now as we speak to go out to your house,” I said. “Chris said they have enough evidence to pin that murder on you.”
“A search warrant?” Tank nervously questioned.
“Yes, and he mentioned your house out in New Kent. They know where you live, Tank.”
“Fuck!” he shouted.
“That's not all. He said they've been after you for years. They know all about you dealing heroin. They've been trying to build a big case against you. It sounds like they know about your whole operation.”
Tank got silent. I guess he was trying to process everything so he could plan his next step.
“You need to get out to the house and clean up,” I said. “I don't know how quick they can come up with a search warrant on a holiday, but I know they're working on it. Tank, this is more serious than I thought.”
“Look, go ahead to dinner and keep your ears open. I need to figure something out.”
“What do you want me to do? Chris is adamant about bringing you down. I don't think I can change his mind.”
“Stick to the plan. Did you leave the key like I asked?”
“Yes, I did it last night.”
“Cool. I'll call you later. If something else comes up, try to call me back as soon as you can.”
“Tell me you love me,” I said, but he just hung up the phone in my ear. This entire situation was getting out of control. For one thing, I never thought the police were onto Tank and his drug-dealing operation. This was only supposed to be about Li'l John's disappearance. It was a whole lot bigger than I was led to believe. I wondered if Tank knew about the drug case but only told me about the murder case to get me to go along with the plan? Maybe he knew they didn't have enough evidence for a solid drug case, so if I could thwart the murder case, it would buy him enough time to get out of the drug game, as planned.
A knock at the door startled me, bringing me out of my whole train of thought. I still had my house phone in my hand, so I quickly hung it up before opening the door. When I did, Chris was standing there with a look of anxiety. He was probably worried that I had changed my mind about Thanksgiving.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked.
“I'm fine, Chris. I just needed to take something for this headache. Maybe I shouldn't go to the Thanksgiving dinner after all. I'm not in a festive mood right now.”
“Renée, baby, you have to. Please?” Chris begged.
Under the circumstances I didn't really want to, but I knew I had to. Otherwise, Chris would become suspicious, and Tank needed me to be his eyes and ears.
His grandmother lived in a small brick ranch-style home in an older subdivision off West Broad Street. Either we were the first ones there or this was not going to be as big a family dinner as I thought. There were only three cars in the driveway, including Chris's. Before we reached the door, a short, heavyset, light-skinned elderly woman opened the door. Chris hugged her, so I assumed she must be his grandmother.
“Grandma Lucy, this is Renée. Renée, this is Grandma Lucy,” Chris said, introducing us.
“Hello,” I said, filling her open arms that she had spread out to hug me. I suppose it was customary, but it felt awkward as hell.
“I'm so glad to finally meet you, Renée,” Grandma Lucy said, hugging me tightly. “Chris has told me all about you. Come on in; make yourself at home.”
We followed behind Grandma Lucy through a small living room as the smell of corn bread surrounded us. Her house was cozy with knickknacks and pictures all over the place. The dining room, which was adjacent to the kitchen, had an oversize oak table with eight chairs.
“Hey, Uncle Junie,” Chris said to an older gentleman who was fumbling with the table leaf.
“Lucy, I believe somebody done broke dis leaf, ‘cuz it don't fit,” Uncle Junie said without acknowledging me or Chris.
“Hey, Uncle Junie,” Chris said louder, this time causing Uncle Junie to turn around to see us.
“Oh, hey! There's my big-shot great-nephew. How you doing, boy? And who is this pretty fox you got with you?” Uncle Junie said.
“This is Renée, Uncle Junie,” Chris replied.
“How are you doing?” I said, feeling more awkward by the minu
te. Just then I felt my cell phone vibrating in my purse.
“Where's the bathroom?” I asked anybody who could answer.
“Chris, show that pretty Indian girl to the bathroom. I can tell she Indian; look at her hair,” said Uncle Junie.
“Shut up, Junie, you old fool,” Grandma Lucy said. “Chris, I'll show Renée to the bathroom. Help your uncle with that table. I swear, we can't never start nothing on time. Come on here, sugar,” said Grandma Lucy. I followed her through a small, stuffy kitchen to a family room. “The bathroom is over there,” she said, pointing across the paneled room. Two older ladies sat on the sofa, watching a movie, and didn't move their eyes from the TV when I walked in.
“Hello,” I said, but there was no response. I made it to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and pulled out my cell phone. I checked my missed calls. They were all from Tank. Something must be wrong, so I called him back.
“Hey, what's wrong?” I asked Tank.
“They just got to the crib, but I was able to leave a little dirt before they got here.”
“Chris?” I said.
“Yeah. That nigga Chris should be getting a call real soon. I'll holla at you later.” Tank hung up quickly
I flushed the toilet and ran the water in the sink to act as if I had used the bathroom and was washing my hands. I walked into the family room, where Chris had just come in and was now hugging one of the two ladies who was watching TV. He was about to introduce them when his cell phone rang.
“Chris Hall,” he answered his phone. “Tell me something good, Bob.”
My heart was racing as I listened to his side of the conversation.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Chris said as he nodded. Then he paused. “What?!”
I watched Chris's facial expressions change. The police must have been at Tank's house now, and I was pretty sure that they'd found the fake evidence Tank had planted. Bob was probably telling him they needed to talk to him right away to discuss what they found.
“What are you talking about? Are you crazy? Okay, okay, listen, meet me at the corner of Libbie and Broad. How quickly can you get there? Okay, I'll see you then,” Chris said, hanging up the phone in a panic.
“What's the matter?” I asked, trying not to appear guilty.
“I don't know, but I need to find out. Listen, I have to go. Can you stay here until I get back? I need to go and meet Bob about something he says is very important.”
“But, Chris, I don't feel comfortable, I mean …”
“It's okay; you'll be fine. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
He kissed me and then literally ran out of the house. I was left standing in the family room with the two old hags, who were now staring me up and down.
“I'm sorry, I'm Renée,” I said, extending my hand. Both of them sucked their teeth and turned back toward the TV. I guess I must've offended them when I said I didn't feel comfortable staying without Chris, but I was telling the truth. I didn't know these people. I took a seat on a slightly worn sofa and waited. Some time went by, and then my phone vibrated again. After checking the number and seeing the call wasn't from Chris or Tank, I let it go to voice mail.
CHRIS
I was doing about eighty-five in a fifty-five, but I didn't care. Bob, one of the primary detectives assigned to the Melvin Jones case, had me a little worried. Whatever he found when they searched Melvin's house was of some interest to me. At least, that was what Bob said. I couldn't possibly figure out what it could be, but he told me to meet him to find out exactly what it was. I pulled into the parking lot of the Amoco gas station on the corner of Libbie and Broad Streets, which was closed because of the holiday. It would take Bob a little while longer to get over to this side of town, since he had to come from New Kent, so I pumped up the heat in the car and waited. I hated that I had to leave Renée at the house with people she didn't even know, but it was better this way. I still had no idea what this was all about. Maybe that drug dealer was somehow affiliated with my mother. That's it, I thought. He probably found some information on my mother. Maybe she'd been arrested for buying drugs from one of his boys or something. What a piece of crap this Melvin Jones is, I thought. When we were finished with him and his whole crew, the projects’ drug supply was going to be hit hard.
Just as I was getting ready to change my India. Arie CD, Bob pulled up behind me in an unmarked car. He walked over to the passenger side, holding a brown envelope, and got in.
“Bob, what's going on? You got me nervous as hell.”
“You know, Chris, we go way back, and I hate to do this to you, but—” Bob said.
“But what?” I cut him off.
“Here,” he said, handing me the envelope. I opened it, pulling out about ten Polaroid pictures and a few newspaper clippings. The first picture was of a baldheaded, thick-lipped brotha with his arms around a female who looked exactly like my Renée. He was holding the camera in front of them, taking the picture himself. The next picture was the same brotha, only this time he was lying across a bed and the girl was lying under his arm, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, as he snapped the picture of the two of them. The next picture was of the girl. She was now posing, completely naked, on the same bed, and by now I realized that it was definitely Renée.
“What the fuck?” I said, now scanning through the other photos, all of which either included Renée posing naked, in lingerie, or in this dude's arms.
“Is this Melvin Jones?” I asked, holding up one of the pictures with the two of them.
“Yes. Melvin Jones, aka Tank,” Bob answered. “It looks like your lady friend and Mr. Jones are very chummy.”
I looked through the newspaper clippings. A couple of them were pictures of me and Renée at formal affairs we had attended together. One of the headlines read, “Has the New Commonwealth's Attorney Met His Fair Lady?”
“What does this mean?” I said, not specifically seeking an answer from Bob, more from myself. All of a sudden I felt as if someone had just hit me in the face with a cast-iron skillet. The more I stared at the pictures, the tighter my stomach got. I felt betrayed, angry, and confused, all rolled up in one.
“Listen, Chris, I didn't show the pictures to anyone. I tried to get them out of the house without anybody noticing. But there might be others.”
“I know. I know. I appreciate it, Bob. I need to talk to Renée right now. Come on, tell me, as a detective, what do you think is going on?”
“Really, I thought about it on my way over here. Maybe they are trying to create a scandal of some sort and place you in the middle. ‘Jealous commonwealth's attorney working to convict drug-dealing ex-boyfriend of current girlfriend.’ They can make the Jones case look tainted and get it thrown out.”
“Come on, Bob, I had no idea Renée had any involvement with this thug.”
“I know that, but how will the defense attorney take all this?”
“Okay, okay. What is she trying to do to me? This shit is crazy! Absolutely crazy! I can't believe it! This woman told me she loved me. We talked about marriage, and she's fucking around with some thug. I don't believe this!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, causing the horn to blow.
“I don't know, Chris. I'm sorry, man. I need to get back to New Kent to see what else comes up. You have my number. Call me if you need me,” Bob said, patting me on the shoulder. He got out of the car, leaving me there with the pictures. In one of the pictures I swear Renée was wearing one of the Victoria's Secret bra and panty sets I bought for her, which told me these pictures were recent. It didn't seem like this was an ex-boyfriend at all. But when did she find time to see him? How deep was it? Did she love him? She told me she loved me. I pulled the car onto Broad Street and headed back to Grandma Lucy's house. I dialed Renée's cell phone number.
“Hello?” she said, sounding anxious to hear my voice.
“Hey, I'm on my way. Look, we need to talk. I should be there in about fifteen minutes. Be outside in the front.” I didn't even give her e
nough time to respond. I wanted her to tell me everything, her point of view, before I jumped to conclusions. Maybe she was forced to take these pictures so that they could be used as blackmail. Maybe he threatened to kill her if she told me. I would find out soon enough.
I pulled in front of Grandma Lucy's, and Renée was standing on the porch as requested. I didn't get out of the car. I just blew the horn so she could come and get in. Grandma Lucy was in the doorway. She had a look on her face as if she was wondering where we were off to.
“I'll be back in a few minutes, Grandma Lucy,” I yelled. Renée got in the car and just sat there staring at me. She was so beautiful. I had a hard time trying to be cruel to her.
“What's going on, Chris?” she asked.
“I'll tell you in a minute.” I drove away from the house and headed toward Broad Street. I pulled over in the abandoned Staples parking lot and took a deep breath before putting the car in park. “Renée, I need you to tell me everything you know about Melvin Jones.” The strangest look came across her face. You would have thought that I told her I was HIV positive from her expression. She just sat there, not answering. “What did he do to you? Did he rape you? Did he force you to do something you didn't want to do?”
“Chris, calm down,” she said.
“Calm down? Calm down? Here, now you tell me I should calm down.” I threw the envelope of pictures to her. She took them out one by one, looking at them as if she'd never seen them before.
“What the fuck is going on? Talk to me, Renée!” I yelled.
“I don't know what to say. It wasn't supposed to happen like this,” she said, continuing to look through the pictures.
“What wasn't supposed to happen like this? Tell me what is going on, now!” She appeared to be nonchalant about the whole thing.
“Chris, listen, I'm going to explain the whole thing to you, but first I need to talk to Tank. Those pictures … they aren't what they seem.”
“You need to talk to Tank about what? You need to talk to me. Tell me what's going on. We were talking about marriage, for Christ sake! And you are going to sit here and tell me you need to talk to Tank? Fuck Tank!”