by Carl Weber
“I’m not giving you more money.”
He sighed, tired of my defiance. “Maybe you’re not exactly understanding grown folks’ talk. Either you give me the money first thing tomorrow morning, or your shit is on full disclosure, and I will make sure you don’t have a chance to get Aaron Mackie. Is that clear enough for you?”
I felt every bone in my body shaking with rage. The fact that this motherfucker was my only living family made his blackmail ten times worse.
“Fine. I will be at your office tomorrow to give you exactly what you deserve.”
“I knew you’d see this my way. Don’t make no sense that you get to keep all that money to yourself. It’s much better to share the wealth.” He had the audacity to try to give me a hug. I shoved him away.
“Don’t touch me!”
“It’s like that?” He laughed, pulling out of the parking lot to head back toward my house.
When Uncle Willie dropped me off, there was a light on in my apartment, which meant that Lynn was there. I bolted from the car, wanting to get away from my uncle and get inside to confront my so-called lover.
Lynn was sitting on the sofa with a freaked-out look on her face, as if she already knew I was on the warpath. I assumed Uncle Willie had called her, giving her a heads-up as soon as I got out of the car. It turned out I was wrong.
“We got a problem,” she said the second I walked through the door.
“Damn right we got a problem!” I marched right up to her and slapped her as hard as I could.
“What the—” Surprisingly, she didn’t even flinch, just placed a hand on her cheek and looked up at me like she was perplexed as to why I would do that to her.
“Did you kill Pippie?” I shouted. “Did you kill him?”
She stared at me with no response.
“Goddammit, Lynn. Did you kill Pippie?” Inside, I was begging her to say no, though a part of me already knew she wouldn’t say that.
Finally, she admitted in a blasé tone, “Yes, I killed Pippie.”
I’d never been in a fistfight, but suddenly I knew what it felt like to be punched in the stomach. Things were not supposed to turn out like this. “Why?” I croaked.
“Because I love you. That’s why.”
“You don’t love me. You killed my friend!” I leaped at her, swinging my fists like a maniac. She grabbed my wrists and we wrestled for a minute until she pinned me to the floor.
“Get out! Get the fuck out my house, you dike bitch!” I yelled as I struggled to free myself. It was useless. Lynn was a trained soldier, and I was no match for her strength. Before long I gave up and stopped fighting, lying limp on the floor.
She attempted to explain. “You asked me to come to New York to help you, Desiree. I did what I did because that man was the enemy and you couldn’t even see it. He was Aaron’s best friend, and nothing good could come out of your friendship with him. He was standing in the way of you achieving your goal. Don’t you see? I was helping you.”
“I didn’t ask you to kill him,” I sobbed.
She released my arms and moved away so I could sit up. Then she held my hands and looked into my eyes. “You’re right. I fucked up. I was jealous of him, and maybe I overreacted. But I did it for you. I love you, Desiree. All I want is for you to get what you want.”
“But I didn’t want him to die.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she said. “Because you’re a good person. But if you set aside your emotions and are honest with yourself, you know he would have gotten in the way. Ask yourself one question: In the end, what’s most important to you, Pippie or Aaron Mackie?”
We both knew the answer to that one. Aaron was the whole reason I’d left Virginia and come to New York in the first place.
“Pippie was just collateral damage,” she said, wiping away my tears. “His death wasn’t your fault.”
I collapsed against her and she held me tight, stroking my hair to soothe me. “I will always protect you, Desiree. I will always do what’s best for you.”
I turned my face toward hers. “I love you,” I said, sealing the proclamation with a deep kiss. Lynn may have done the wrong thing when it came to Pippie, but she would always do the right thing by me. I trusted her. I had to. She was all I had.
“I don’t ever want to lose you,” she said, stroking my face gently.
We held each other quietly for a while, too emotionally spent for anything else.
“Hey, Des, can I ask you a question?” she said after a few minutes.
“Sure.”
“How did you know it was me?”
I swallowed any lingering anger at her and said, “Well, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was you until you admitted it, but when Uncle Willie told me about the red R on Pippie’s forehead, I thought—”
“Fuckin’ Willie,” she spat. “Why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth shut?”
I agreed with her on that one. He already knew I was sad about Pippie’s death, and then he had to make it worse by revealing that the woman I loved was responsible. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had his own little plan in the works—to destroy me.
“Yeah, fuckin’ Willie,” I said. “You know he just came to me saying he needs more money? He says he’ll reveal our whole plan to the church if I don’t give him more.”
“What!” She jumped up and started pacing. “Des, that motherfucker won’t be happy until he’s spent every last dime of your insurance money.”
“I know. But if I don’t give him the money and he tells it all, I’ll never get Aaron.”
She stopped pacing and looked down at me with a determined expression. “I will not let that happen. All I ever wanted was to make you happy, baby, and I will do whatever it takes.” She resumed her pacing. Under her breath, I heard her mumble something along the lines of “That’s what I was trying to do tonight.”
The tension in her body gave me an uneasy feeling. “Lynn, what are you talking about?” I asked warily.
“The bishop saw me tonight.”
“So? He doesn’t know who you are.”
She corrected me. “He does know me. Remember when he came to your uncle’s office to fight over Monique? I was the one who tried to stop him. He knows me as Jackson Young’s secretary.”
“Well, did he say anything to you tonight? I mean, it’s ‘Jackson Young’ he has a problem with, not his secretary.” I still wasn’t understanding why she thought this problem was so serious—but that was only because she hadn’t shared the worst details yet.
“He saw me at the church while I was trying to take care of your Tia problem,” she admitted.
“My Tia problem?” I repeated, and then it dawned on me what she was implying. “Oh, Lord. Please tell me you weren’t doing what I think you were.”
She gave me a look that confirmed my fear. “I almost had her, Des. I had the belt around her neck. She would be gone right now if the fuckin’ bishop hadn’t rolled up on me.”
“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck were you thinking?” I yelled.
“Desiree, I’m sorry, but you did say to take care of her.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t say kill her, dammit!” Now I was the one pacing back and forth frantically. “Did he see your face?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. He looked right in my eyes,” she said in total defeat. She had fucked up beyond belief.
“We’ve gotta go,” I said.
“Where?”
“To see my uncle. He’s gotta pack up that office and disappear before the shit hits the fan. Thanks to you and him, our timetable just got sped up.”
Ross
45
“Hey, baby. It’s me. Please, please, please call me back. I know I’ve fucked up, and I would do anything to take that back, but I can’t do anything if you don’t call me. Please!” I hung up the phone, wondering if Selena would even listen to this or the other fifteen voice mail messages I’d left her since she kicked me out a few days ago. I’d a
lready given up on texting, because that wasn’t getting any response either. I picked up the phone to dial her again, but what was the point? If she didn’t want to talk to me, then she didn’t have to. It wasn’t like I could go to her mother’s house and talk to her. Tank was living there, too, ready to rip my head off if I came anywhere close to his sister.
I put down my cell and picked up my Starbucks latte out of the cup holder, staring out at the small two-story office building. I’d been sitting outside Jackson’s office for an hour. I still couldn’t believe a big-time agent would set up shop on a nondescript street in Queens. He would have to be getting his clients some killer deals for them to come to this rinky-dink joint when they could be with management firms in the heart of Manhattan. This location was just one of the many things about him that just didn’t add up.
Now that I was no longer managing Aaron or the choir, I had plenty of time on my hands to figure out just what the fuck Jackson was up to. I didn’t necessarily know what I expected to find, but I just couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that the dude was hiding something. After sitting outside his office for two hours, though, I was starting to get the feeling that this was not the way to gather information.
On the off chance that he might have some useful information, I decided to call Bentley Simpson, who had been my mentor when I first got into the entertainment business. I’d started out in Atlanta, representing some young actors trying to break into the business. An established agent, Bentley had taken a liking to me and kind of taken me under his wing. “Black folks have to stick together down here in Black Hollywood,” he’d told me. I hadn’t spoken to him more than once or twice since moving north to represent Aaron and the choir, but I still had major respect for Bentley. Maybe he knew something about Jackson, or could at least help me put a finger on what was off about this guy.
“Ross Parker, how the hell are you?” he said when he answered. I was happy to know he still had my name programmed into his phone. “Tell me you’re calling with some good news.”
“Isn’t my call good news enough?” I joked. “How the hell are you doing since your retirement?”
“Hell, not as good as you. When are you gonna bring that boy out here and take over our choir, put it on the map?” he pressed me. Bentley was on the board and very involved with his church in LA. It had a celebrity-filled congregation, and photographers lined up outside the doors every Sunday to catch a glimpse of the black Atlanta elite. Bentley had been after me to convince Aaron to take over his church choir ever since.
“You know we can’t leave,” I said, neglecting to tell him that I was no longer managing Aaron. It would be too embarrassing to admit to Bentley, a powerhouse in the business who never would have allowed himself to be duped by someone like Jackson. “And besides, I don’t trust those Atlanta tornadoes,” I said with a laugh.
“You get used to them. It’s just a little rocking and rolling on the road. Now, I know that Bishop Wilson runs a megachurch, but we have a mega megachurch. The deal we could offer you two would blow your mind,” he bragged, always the super salesman.
“Listen, we just signed a deal with Johnson Morris Agency,” I said, avoiding the whole truth again.
“You mean the Johnson Morris Endeavor agency? They merged a couple of years ago. Now they’re bigger and better.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right.” I didn’t want to admit I hadn’t known about the merger. Alarm bells were ringing in my head, though. Jackson had presented himself as coming from Johnson Morris; never once had he mentioned Endeavor. Just one more thing about him that was suspect.
“Listen, Bentley, I was wondering if you knew an agent by the name of Jackson Young. He’s in his early forties, supersmooth. I know you agents are tough, but this guy is something else.” I didn’t want to come out and call the guy an asshole, just in case they were close friends or something.
“Jackson Young! Whew, I haven’t heard that name in a couple of years, and frankly, I’m perfectly okay with that. Talk about a shark. He gives new meaning to the phrase ‘by any means necessary.’ That guy will sell out his mother for the chance to make money.” Okay, so now I definitely knew they weren’t friends! Everything he said about Jackson squared with the impression I had of him. I guess this guy made enemies wherever he went.
“Thanks, man. That’s kind of what I thought. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t jumping to conclusions.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Listen, I’ve got to run, but give me a call next time you’re headed out to ATL. I’ll take you and your wife out to this jazz club that just opened up. Place is jumping every night of the week.”
Again, I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth about me and Selena. Damn, I really had fallen far since the last time I spoke to Bentley.
“Sure thing, Bentley,” I said, trying to keep the feeling of failure out of my voice. “I’ll be in touch.”
I was about to end the call, when Bentley spoke up. “Hey, Ross, just do me a favor, okay?”
“What’s that?”
“Jackson Young is dangerous and connected, so please just stay the hell out of that white boy’s way.” With that, he hung up.
Still holding my phone, I stared up at the office building with Bentley’s words echoing in my head. White boy.
Unless dude had the best tan in the world, there was no way that the man in this office in Queens was Jackson Young from Johnson Morris. This was even bigger than I’d imagined. That loudmouth motherfucker was a sham, a bragging flimflam artist. Of course, now the question was: Who the hell was he? And what did he want with Aaron and the choir?
I leaned back in my seat, running through everything I knew about this guy—what little there was. I remembered the first day he’d shown up in the bishop’s office, right after Tia left Aaron at the altar. What a fucked-up time to show up and make a proposal like he did. And then to ogle the bishop’s wife the way he did…That was it! This wasn’t about the choir at all.
I snatched up my phone to call Aaron. He could help me make sense of all of this. Together we could make a plan to put a stop to all of this shit before it tore apart the whole church.
Aaron’s cell went immediately to voice mail, which meant he’d turned it off. He usually kept that thing on and as close to him as possible. He never said it, but I knew it was because he was still hoping Tia would call him one day. Why today, of all days, had he turned it off?
A car pulled up near the spot where I’d been sitting for two hours. Two women got out, and as they passed by my car, I had to do a double take. One of them was Desiree, the new church secretary. What a weird coincidence that she was in the same neighborhood as Jackson Young’s office. I wondered if she lived in one of the nearby apartments.
She was caught up in a conversation with the other woman, so she didn’t notice me. It was just as well, because I sure didn’t want to explain what I was doing there.
Things got even more interesting when I watched the two of them cross the street. If I hadn’t seen them up close, I would have thought the other woman was a sixteen-year-old boy, with her buzzed hair, baseball cap, and baggy jeans. The boyish one reached out and took Desiree’s hand, which was intriguing enough, but I nearly lost it when they stopped on the sidewalk and she pulled Desiree in for a kiss. I’m not talking about no peck on the cheek, either. These two were going at it, tongue and all. You could not have paid me to believe that the demure church girl who worked in the bishop’s office was into this kind of shit if I hadn’t just seen it with my own eyes.
When I tore my eyes away from their activity, it finally dawned on me that their presence in this neighborhood was not a coincidence. Their make-out session was happening right in front of the entrance to Jackson’s office.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked myself out loud. How the hell was Desiree connected to Jackson Young? I was starting to get a really bad feeling that this whole thing was much bigger than just me losing Aaron and the choir.
I opened my pho
ne’s camera app and started recording. They finally broke the kiss, the butch one wiping her mouth, and then they entered Jackson’s office together. I didn’t know yet what the connection was between them and that motherfucker, but something told me this video would prove valuable later.
Desiree
46
It was a little after nine in the morning when we climbed the stairs to Uncle Willie’s office. After a long, frantic night of searching for him to no avail, we were running on pure adrenaline. We hadn’t gone back to our place for fear that the cops would be out looking for Lynn. Instead, we’d fallen asleep with our clothes on in a sleazy motel, where I tossed and turned all night. My whole plan was falling apart, and now my first priority was to protect Lynn. If that meant giving Uncle Willie the money so that he would leave town, then so be it.
I had asked Lynn to wait for me at the motel, not wanting her anywhere near the office where the bishop knew she worked, but she wouldn’t hear it. She wanted to protect me just as much as I wanted to protect her. She didn’t say it, but I think she wanted one more chance to cuss Uncle Willie out before he left town. Those two had always had it out for each other.
Lynn pushed the door open and walked into his office first. Willie was leaning back in his overpriced Aeron chair, his feet propped up on the desk like some big shot. His face broke into a grin at the sight of the envelope I held in my hand.
“Glad to see you, girls.” He glanced at his watch. “And right at the start of business hours too. I’m happy that you’re so punctual.” He laughed jovially, as if we were there for a social visit.
“Why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone last night?” Lynn said.
Uncle Willie frowned at her. “Why is that any of your business?” He looked at me. “In fact, this is between me and my niece. Your ass doesn’t need to be here at all.”
Lynn took a step toward him, her fists clenched. “Motherf—”
“Lynn, wait.” I stopped her with an outstretched hand. “Let’s just give him the money so we can all get out of here.”