Collusion

by De'nesha Diamond

Abrianna’s annoyance ebbed. Even with a busted face, Kadir was handsome as hell. His black, wavy hair had grown a couple of inches. And a beard was taking shape that made his pretty-boy face look more mature. “The lawyers assured me that they are still working on getting you out of here.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “The government has nothing and they know it. The attorneys were able to get copies of your Uber records from the company. Thank goodness you logged that fare to the airport on your app. Also, they have a statement from a guy who lives in your apartment complex who backs up your story. He said that he was the one who sent the Al-Sahi brothers to your place when their cabs hadn’t showed up to take them to the airport.”

  Kadir nodded. “Yeah. That’s Mook. He’s the neighborhood junkie. I don’t know how much his word would hold up in court.”

  Abrianna agreed. “The problem they’re having is you violating your parole.”

  Kadir expelled a long breath. “Yeah. I’ve been told. They can make me serve the rest of my parole time in here.”

  “How long is that?” Abrianna asked.

  “Two and a half years,” he answered.

  “You’re shitting me,” Abrianna said, eyes widening.

  “I wish.”

  Guilt etched lines across her forehead. “My God. What have I done? It’s my fault you’re in here.”

  “Nah. Nah.” Kadir shook his head. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’m a man. I made my own choices.”

  Abrianna fretted. “I can’t leave you in here after all you’ve done to help me. There has to be something that I can do.”

  “Don’t do that,” Kadir pled. “I don’t want you working yourself up and worrying about me. I’m going to be fine. This is not my first time at the prison rodeo.”

  “Of course I’m going to worry about you. Are there no mirrors in that dangerous bathroom? Your head is shaped like an Oompa Loompa.”

  Kadir laughed and winced when pain shot up from his cracked ribs.

  Abrianna gasped and reflexively took his hand. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It just hurts when I laugh.” Kadir’s smile wobbled as he tried to get comfortable again.

  “Then stop laughing, because there’s not a damn thing funny,” she snapped.

  “Hands,” the guard barked.

  Abrianna rolled her eyes and pulled her hands back across the table.

  Kadir hitched up a grin, winking his dimples. “Ah. I’m starting to get the impression that you give a damn about me.”

  “Yes, I give a damn. You saved my life.”

  Kadir’s smile expanded. “I’m glad that you came out to see me. The last time I was in . . .”

  She frowned and then remembered. “Oh, I forgot. Your family moved to Yemen shortly after you were convicted.”

  He nodded, pleased that she’d paid attention to his pillow talk.

  “But what about friends or your fiancée?”

  His smile flattened. “I was actually referring to after Malala, uh . . .”

  “Passed away.” Abrianna filled in the blank, lowering her eyes.

  “Before the car accident, Malala was great. She never missed a visiting day.” He sighed and stopped rambling on about the woman who he’d always thought would be his wife. There was no reason to live in the past. “As far as my friends—well, you’ve met one of them. Is he the type of person to be rollin’ up in a federal prison to give me a shout-out?”

  “Good point.”

  Silence grew between them while each struggled to find a safe topic.

  Kadir spoke. “Look. If I don’t get out of here—”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Please, let me finish,” he said and then took a deep breath. “If I don’t get out, I want you to promise not to blame yourself. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and there is nothing that I would change. I’m glad that I was there to help you when you needed someone.” He placed a bruised hand back on top of hers. “I know you’ve been through a lot . . . much of it that you haven’t been comfortable to share with me, but I want you to know that none of that stuff matters. You don’t have to let the past imprison you.”

  Abrianna shook her head.

  “I know that’s ridiculous advice from a man who is actually in a prison,” he joked. “But I’m not.” At her confusion he explained by pointing at his head. “The real prison is in here. Never let anyone imprison your mind. That’s the whole game. In here, we have the power of true freedom: our thoughts, our dreams, and our prayers. We mess up when we let muthafuckas live in our heads rent-free—telling you who you are or who you’re not. What you’re worth or what you’re not worth. Stop it. You don’t need anything to numb yourself or block out their voices. You have to kick that monster out of your head.”

  Abrianna stiffened. Had he given himself away? He’d tried not to betray Julian’s confidence—but it was hard.

  “I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” she said. “But you really don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You can’t imagine what lives in my head. You have no fucking clue how desperately I’ve tried to evict my ‘monsters.’ They have made it clear that they aren’t going anywhere.” A tear skipped down her face. “Me and the monsters are one and the same. For better or worse and ’til death do we part.”

  26

  Two weeks later

  Abrianna hid from reporters and moved in with Shawn in his two-bedroom apartment. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Shawn said as Abrianna wheeled him inside. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Are you sure that you don’t mind my staying here for a little while?” she double-checked.

  “Of course not. It’ll be like the old days.”

  She grimaced. “Jeez, I hope not.”

  However, within days it was a prison. She blacked out the windows and disconnected the landline, fearing the rabid media would find her. She did carry one burner cell phone from Tomi so she could keep in contact with her and her attorney, but Abrianna developed Ghost’s paranoia about it and kept changing the phone every third day.

  Today, when Draya and Julian joined them for brunch, they danced around her going crazy as a topic.

  “Any news on Kadir?” Draya asked. When the group leaned forward, it was clear it was the question that they’d been dying to ask. “Is he ever getting out?”

  Abrianna’s gaze lowered. “I have no idea. The FBI isn’t saying jack shit.”

  “Surely they can’t keep him indefinitely,” Julian said. “The man is innocent.”

  “Yeah . . . but he violated his parole.” She sighed. “Our attorneys aren’t getting much. The feds got some kind of ax to grind.”

  “Damn. I’m sorry,” Shawn said. “But it goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished.”

  Everyone agreed. The evening’s festive mood waned.

  Draya pointed to the muted television. “Why is she getting all the shine? Every time I turn around, there she is, cheesing and shit in front of the cameras.”

  Abrianna glanced over to the screen to see Tomi. “Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “It’s been a long-ass fifteen minutes,” Draya grumbled. “I’m sorry. I know that she’s your girl.”

  “I never said that she was my girl,” Abrianna corrected. “She’s just someone I know and thought could help me.” She shrugged.

  “Humph.” Draya stabbed a piece of her cake. “The bitch seems like an opportunist to me. Is she doing anything to help get your man out of prison?”

  “Kadir is not—”

  “Chile, please. Don’t fix your lips to lie. You forget that we know you better than anybody. You’ve been trying to hold up that long face for a while now. I’m exhausted looking at you,” Tivonté said.

  Abrianna glanced around. Her friends nodded in agreement.

  Draya threw in an “Amen.”

  “All right. I don’t know what we are,” she amended. Then she nodded back to the television. “As far as I’m co
ncerned, better her than me. Tomi keeps trying to get me to go on one of those shows, but the last thing I want is for those people to dissect every inch of my life. I already know how fucked up it is. I don’t need the world’s opinion.”

  Shawn’s forehead wrinkled, a sign that he was thinking too hard. “Maybe you’re looking at this shit all wrong,” he suggested.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a hustler.” He shrugged. “You know how to stay a couple of steps ahead of the game. Use them before they can use you.”

  Draya struggled trying to follow his lead. “And how do you suppose she does that?”

  Shawn leaned back as if holding court. “Bree, you’re the victim in all this—a pawn in a presidential conspiracy. When the world sees you—not looking like the hot mess you were racing out of that hotel; bat those big brown eyes and tell them how the government is still victimizing you and Kadir—you could mount pressure in getting him released. Tell everybody that they’re refusing to release an innocent man as some sort of payback for bringing down a corrupt president. I betcha that’ll work.”

  “Oh, I don’t . . .” Abrianna shook her head, unable to process the idea of sitting in front of cameras and giving the world a peek into even a fraction of her life. It gave her heart palpitations.

  “You do want them to release him, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I fuckin’ owe him my life.”

  “Then you know what you got to do. But make sure it’s one of those shows willing to pay mucho dinero.” He lifted his glass. “You know how it is: Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

  The next day, Abrianna agreed to meet Tomi back at Stanton Park. She also hoped to see Charlie. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and she was sure that he’d been keeping up what was going on in the papers. He was probably worried about her. But after an hour of sitting in the park, there was no sign of him. Now, she was worried.

  “Hey,” Tomi said, rushing the bench. “Sorry, I’m late. It seems like the whole world discovered all my contact numbers.” She laughed.

  “I’m not surprised. You’re real popular on TV.”

  “The exposé shook the whole government. It’s the story of the century.”

  Abrianna shrugged, unimpressed.

  “I take it that means that you’re still not interested in doing interviews?”

  “The last thing I need is for the world to dissect my life. It’s shit. I don’t need anyone to confirm it.”

  “I wish you’d reconsider.”

  Abrianna rolled eyes behind her big glasses.

  “If it’s money . . . there are plenty of stations willing to shell out six or even seven figures to get you in front of the camera.”

  “I have reconsidered. I want to help get Kadir out of prison. My friends think my going on television could help mount public pressure on getting him released. What do you think?”

  Tomi blinked. “I think that they’re right. Seeing you will put a more human face on his plight.”

  Abrianna tilted her sunglasses down so she could meet Tomi’s stunned gaze. “Fine. Can you set it up?”

  “Of course. I’ll get right on it.”

  Pushing up her glasses, Abrianna asked, “So what’s going to happen to the president anyway? Why hasn’t he stepped down?”

  “Oh, he will,” Tomi assured her. “There’s no way that he can survive this. It’s rather pathetic the way he’s clinging to power. You can tell that his vice president is dying to plant her pumps in the middle of his ass and kick him out of the door.”

  “Okay.” Abrianna sprung to her feet. “I gotta go.”

  “Yeah?” Tomi sounded disappointed. “Okay. You still have the cell phone I got you?”

  “Yes. But I’m going to get a different one tomorrow. I heard that it’s best to change them every three days.”

  “Why?”

  “It makes it harder for big brother to track you.”

  Tomi smirked. “Don’t tell me that you’re a conspiracy theorist.”

  “After the kind of life I’ve lived? I’m now a card-carrying member.”

  Tomi shook her head. “Oh. Wait. I think I have a few of the interview offers that were emailed to me in my bag. You can take them back home and decide which ones you want to do.” She opened her bag and pulled out a stack of papers. A sketch caught Abrianna’s attention.

  “What are you doing with a picture of Charlie?”

  Tomi paused, looked at the sketch and then back at Abrianna. “Who’s Charlie?”

  Abrianna stared at the picture to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. She wasn’t. It was definitely Charlie. “First tell me why you have this.”

  Tomi shrugged. “He approached me a couple of weeks ago. Pulled up next to me in a black Mercedes. He said that he wanted to talk to me about . . . something crazy.”

  “Black Mercedes?” Abrianna laughed. “That’s impossible. Charlie doesn’t own a Mercedes. Hell, he doesn’t even own a car. He’s a homeless old guy that hangs out at this park. I’ve known him for years.” She looked again. “Maybe he has a twin or something.”

  Tomi frowned. “He mentioned you.”

  “What?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “This guy said he wanted to talk to me about some . . . powers that he believed you and I have developed over the past six years.”

  Abrianna fell silent.

  Tomi cocked her head and studied her. “Do you know what he’s talking about? Have you experienced anything . . . odd in the past few years?”

  “I’ve experienced a lot of odd things.”

  “No. I mean like special . . . abilities.”

  Abrianna shook her head too fast to be believed.

  “I have,” Tomi confessed.

  Abrianna’s gaze swung up from the sketch.

  “Small things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . . I can move things around . . . with my mind.”

  The hairs on the back of Abrianna’s neck stood.

  “What about you?”

  Abrianna debated answering the question because, she realized, she was scared.

  “You can, can’t you?” Tomi saw that she’d spooked her. “There’s something else.”

  “There’s more?”

  “At one point, the guy stopped talking with his mouth and I could hear him in my head. I damn near pissed on myself right there in the middle of the street.”

  “Sometimes I can hear people’s thoughts,” Abrianna blurted. It was a relief to say it out loud. “It’s a constant buzzing at the back of my head. Day and night. Half the time I think that I’m going out of my mind.”

  Tomi frowned. “What do you do?”

  Abrianna sighed. “Drugs, mostly. It quiets the buzzing.”

  The wind picked up, and the women shivered.

  “Anything else?” Tomi asked.

  Abrianna eyed her wearily. “You’re not going to write about this, are you?”

  “Not on your life,” Tomi said. “I’ve busted my ass for the past six years trying to prove that I’m not a freak.”

  “Humph. A freak is all I know how to be.” Abrianna’s gaze fell back to the sketch and a wave of questions numbed any feelings of betrayal. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “You said his name was Charlie?” Tomi asked.

  Abrianna nodded. “At least that’s what he told me. But fuck. It could be anything. The old man that I know doesn’t ride around in a Mercedes.”

  “With government tags,” Tomi added.

  “Government?” Abrianna shook her head. “None of that makes any sense.”

  “I can’t find the lie in that statement.” Tomi reclaimed her sketch. “How long have you known him again?”

  “Six years,” Abrianna shrugged. “He was the first person I met after I ran away from . . .” Abrianna’s mind drifted back to the moment she’d met the homeless man. “Noooo,” Abrianna groaned, not wanting to believe the obvious.

  “What?” Tomi
asked.

  “The night I was snatched up by that sick fuck Avery, Charlie was there. Avery helped me get Charlie out of the middle of the road.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Abrianna shook her head. As the tide of questions receded, that numb betrayal turned into anger. “How could I be so stupid? They were partners. They had to be! They said Avery was a doctor.”

  “A scientist,” Tomi said, nodding. “That crazy shit he used to concoct down in that basement and injected us with wasn’t for shits and giggles.”

  “We were fucking lab rats.”

  Tomi nodded. “It’s the only shit that makes sense. Apparently this ‘Charlie’ befriended you in order to keep an eye out or monitor you. What do you guys talk about?”

  “Nothing,” Abrianna said. “We’d just shoot the breeze. Before this whole crazy shit with that congressman went down, I met Charlie five days a week for lunch in this park.”

  “This park?” Tomi looked around.

  “Yeah. On the weekends, he said that he went to see about his granddaughter.” Abrianna tossed up her hands. “That’s probably more bullshit. Fuck!”

  “Look. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You couldn’t have known.”

  “Please. I have a pretty good bullshit detector. Well, at least I tell myself that. But after Moses, Sanders, Zeke—shit. It’s one more thing I’m fooling myself about. I have to go.”

  “What?”

  “This is all too much,” Abrianna said, standing. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “Well, uh . . . remember to text me your new number.”

  Abrianna gave her the okay sign and kept it moving. But before she exited the park, she took another glance around, searching for Charlie. Who in the fuck are you, muthafucka?

  * * *

  “Do you think that’s her, sir?” Ned asked from behind the wheel.

  Dr. Z watched Abrianna march as if she were going off to war. “Yeah. That’s her,” he said. “I’d know that walk anywhere.”

  “Do you think that she was looking for you?”

  “Maybe.” His gaze shifted back across the park to Tomi Lehane. She was the reason that he hadn’t gotten out of the car in his disguise to approach Abrianna. Tomi would’ve seen straight through it and remembered him.