by Shelly Ellis
Ricky continued to stew silently in frustration, knowing that Ramsey’s elaborate explanation basically meant that nothing would change. He would have to keep going back to Dolla Dolla’s place, mentally taking notes of everything he observed so he could tell the cops later. Dolla Dolla would continue to do his thing, destroying lives and having a good time while he was at it. Once again, Ricky felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Once again, he felt like the situation had been taken out of his control.
“Just pull over and let me out,” Ricky said, shaking his head in exasperation as he gazed out the car window. “I’m done talking.”
“Our fuckin’ pleasure,” Dominguez mumbled.
Less than a minute later, Ramsey pulled up to the curb in front of an office building. Ricky hopped out.
“We’re working on it, Ricky,” Ramsey called after him. “Trust us. We’re not gonna leave you hangin’.”
Ricky slammed shut the door and watched as they pulled off.
He wasn’t sure if he did trust Detective Ramsey, despite his assurances. In the back of his mind, he suspected that in the end he would be left swinging in the wind.
Chapter 30
Derrick
Derrick gazed through the double-paned glass and found Morgan sitting on a stool in her workshop with her satchel thrown over her shoulder. She was laughing with a half dozen of her students.
Today was her last day at the Institute. Though she had stayed longer than the month she had promised, he suspected the kiss they’d shared in the stairwell after Cole’s memorial service had pushed her too far. She’d emailed him the very next day that she would be gone by that Friday, whether he’d hired her replacement or not. Now he watched as she said her last goodbyes to the kids she had loved and respected so much. He observed from a distance as she hugged them and wished them all good luck.
He stood back as the boys strolled one by one out of the workroom, giving one last wave goodbye to her before they entered the hall. They glanced up at him as they passed. “Hey! What’s up, Mr. Derrick?” one of them said.
“Hey,” he murmured with a nod before stepping into the workroom’s doorway when they had all left.
Morgan was opening drawers and shoving stuff from her desk into her satchel. She was buckling it closed when she looked up and saw Derrick leaning against the door frame. When she saw him, her face changed. Her arched brows drew together.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you down here,” she said.
“I wasn’t expecting it either. But our exit interview should’ve started fifteen minutes ago,” he began, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You didn’t show up so I came looking for you. I figured I’d find you in your workroom.”
“I didn’t know you were serious about that . . . the exit interview, I mean.”
He squinted at her. “Why wouldn’t I be? I ask all employees to do one before they leave. It helps me to find out more about their experience . . . find out areas where we can improve.”
She choked out a laugh and slowly shook her head. “Okay, fine. Go ahead and ask your questions. We can do it while I gather the last of my things.”
You’re really in that much of a hurry to get out of here? he thought with dismay, but he didn’t ask her the question aloud. He already knew what the answer would be.
“So how would you rate your experience overall at the Institute while working here?” he asked. “On a scale of one to ten.”
She shrugged as she opened a bottom drawer. “About a six . . . maybe six and a half.”
“A six and a half?” he cried.
“You said overall! If I had to give one score for everything, I would say my experience working with the kids has been an eight or a nine. But working at an understaffed, under-funded place like this one isn’t easy, so I’d rate that about a five. I was going with the average between the two. I thought I was being generous.”
He rolled his eyes. “But you knew that coming in. I told you we didn’t have a lot of money or resources to work with.”
“You’re right. But there are some things I didn’t know coming in. Some things that made the experience more challenging.”
“Like what?”
“Like faculty dynamics. You’ve got a few divas on your staff, Derrick. They’ve been here so long that they act like they own the place; they boss around everyone else. Another thing is the security staff. Sometimes I felt like I had to be a buffer between them and the kids because some of those dudes can be so aggressive with how they handle situations. This is more of a school than a juvenile detention center. I don’t think some of them get that,” she muttered as she slammed a drawer shut. “And you know . . . other things came along in a way that I didn’t expect.”
The workshop fell silent as she continued to pack her things.
“Like us,” he said when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.
She hesitated, then gradually nodded. “It probably wasn’t the best idea to get in a romantic relationship with my boss. But I’m a grown woman.” She shrugged. “I did it willingly. I knew the risk I was taking. Now I’ve gotta deal with the price of that bad decision.”
A bad decision.
So that’s how she would classify their relationship? Funny, out of all the mistakes he had made in the past year and a half, falling in love and pursuing her wasn’t the one he’d considered the bad decision. Yes, it had come with a lot of blowback. He’d lost Melissa. He’d lost his damn cat. He’d lost Mr. Theo’s respect. But the payback had been so much more. He thought he’d finally found the woman who matched him and understood him. He thought he’d finally gotten it right.
“Well,” he said, stepping into the room, “you might rate your experience here a six but—”
“Six and a half,” she corrected.
“Fine. Six and a half. But I’d rate you a lot higher. I still consider you one of the best instructors we’ve had in a very long time. The kids will miss you. I’ll miss you, too, Morgan.”
And he meant it with every part of him.
This was the part of the exit interview when he usually offered the former instructor a handshake and asked them to stay in touch. But he really wanted to hug her, to pull her into his arms and hold her close. But he did neither. Instead, he watched as she closed another drawer and nodded.
“Thanks,” she whispered before tugging her satchel farther up her shoulder. She looked around her. “I should get going. I was trying to leave early, before all the classes ended for today. If I had to say goodbye to everyone, I’d be here until midnight.”
“I understand,” he mumbled.
“Goodbye, Derrick.” She then walked around him and headed to the doorway.
“Bye.”
When she exited the room, he stood in the center, feeling an emptiness he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t supposed to go down this way. None of it. Cole should still be alive and headed to his next class. Derrick should be standing here asking Morgan what they should pick up for dinner tonight, not saying goodbye to her forever.
He started to walk out of the room, but his eyes landed on a book that sat on top of a pile of papers on her stool. He recognized it. It was a journal she sometimes scribbled some of her furniture design ideas in, ones that she considered making later. She must have missed it in all the things that she’d packed, but she would probably need it.
He grabbed the book and raced to the door. He then ran down the hall and up the stairs to the floor above, hoping he would catch her before she left.
* * *
“Morgan!” Derrick shouted after her just as he saw her push open the glass doors to head outside.
She must not have heard him because she kept walking with her head bowed.
“Morgan!” he shouted again. He jogged after her and pushed the door open. “Morgan!”
This time she did stop. She turned on the sidewalk and faced him.
“You left this,” he said, holding out her design journal to her.
/> “Oh,” she said with a sniff. “Thank you. I don’t know how I forgot that.”
As he drew closer, he could see there were tears in her eyes. He frowned. “Are you okay?”
She closed her eyes and one tear trickled onto her cheek. “Please . . . please stop asking me that! You know I’m not okay, Derrick.” She roughly wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “But once I get out of here and on a plane to Atlanta, I’ll feel better.”
“I disappointed you. I failed you. I know I did. I wish I could go back and change everything, but I can’t.”
She shook her head and opened her eyes. “No, you can’t. But that—”
Her words were drowned out by the sound of a gunning engine and screeching tires.
The noise drew their attention. It drew the attention of the dozen boys playing on the Institute’s basketball court, too, even though they all were used to the sound of busy traffic making its way up and down Branch Avenue. You could hear it in the classrooms, the offices, and the dorms. Sometimes instructors had to shout or close their windows to be heard over it. But for some reason, it sounded different this time. Derrick wasn’t sure why.
He turned in just enough time to see a black SUV racing toward them with the passenger-side window down. He couldn’t see the driver or who was inside but he heard the tell-tale pop, then another. He had grown up and lived in the inner city long enough to know what that sound was.
“Get down!” he shouted to Morgan.
“What?” she yelled back just as he grabbed her hand and roughly yanked her to the cement, making her scream in alarm as she landed sprawled on the sidewalk. He shoved her down flat and lay on top of her. He didn’t even think about what he was doing; he automatically used himself as a human shield for her as the popping continued.
He heard the sound of rapid firecrackers going off mixed with that of shattering glass, shouts and screams, and the ring of bullets bouncing off of metal and brick. Derrick felt one bee sting in his back, then another in his arm. He knew the whole thing probably lasted less than sixty seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
When the shooting finally stopped and the SUV pulled away, he slowly raised his head and looked around him. He saw the busted windows and doors on the Institute’s exterior. He saw that a woman across the street had run for cover behind a mailbox and a man crouched behind a Ford Explorer. Derrick looked at the basketball court. Some of the boys were yelling for help, screaming that one or two of them had been shot.
He pushed himself up and looked down at Morgan. “Are you all right?” he asked frantically, terrified at the idea that she’d been hurt. “You didn’t get hit, did you?”
She looked shaken but unharmed. “N-n-no,” she stuttered. “I’m . . . I’m o-o-okay.”
“Run inside and make sure everyone is okay in there, too. Make sure they call the police and tell them to send an ambulance.” He rose to his feet. “I gotta check on the kids on the court.”
He started to run toward the basketball court but grabbed on to the chain-link fence to steady himself when he suddenly felt light-headed.
“Derrick!” Morgan screamed, catching him before he collapsed to the ground. “Oh, Derrick, baby! Oh, my God! You’ve been shot.”
He looked down and realized that his dress shirt was soaked in blood. That must have been the “bee stings” he’d felt earlier.
Well, shit, he thought almost with dismay. He tried to stagger back to his feet but felt like he was losing a battle to jelly limbs. His head lolled to the side.
“Derrick! Derrick!” she screamed again as his eyes fluttered closed.
Chapter 31
Jamal
Jamal stood in the theater lobby, looking at the people streaming by him, giving himself a pep talk. He was meeting Melissa tonight for the play she’d bought tickets for a month ago, back when they were still hooking up, back when he’d thought he’d had a chance of winning her heart. But now he knew differently, so he wondered why he was here exactly.
Because she texted me and asked me to come. Because Melissa is cool, and I still like her as a person. And it is possible for a man and a woman to be friendly with one another—even if they’ve had sex, he told himself while glancing at the time on his cell phone screen.
He’d done it before. He’d had relationships with other women that had fizzled out in the end and he’d still remained friends with them. He could still say a casual “hi” and keep it moving when he saw them in public. This evening with Melissa is gonna be no different, he told himself.
And besides, he wasn’t even interested in Melissa like that anymore, he told himself. He hadn’t seen her in weeks—almost a month—and he’d had his date with Sam only last week. And Sam was a sexy, funny woman whom he’d had chemistry with. She was obviously a better fit for him—much better than Melissa.
Jamal was simply seeing Othello tonight with an old hookup, an old friend. There was no need to make it bigger than it was.
We’ll shoot the shit. Have some laughs. Maybe grab dinner and go our separate ways, he thought with a shrug as he continued to search for Melissa. No big deal.
“Jay?” he heard her call, and he turned in the direction of her voice. He saw her walking across the crowded lobby, excusing her way through a group of six, huddled together near the theater entrance. When she drew closer, she came at him with open arms.
“Oh, Jay!” she said, slamming into him and giving him a hug like she hadn’t seen him in ten years instead of just three and a half weeks. “Oh, God!”
Fuck, he thought, feeling her arms around him and her supple body pressed against his. His stoic resolve instantly faltered.
This wasn’t the same as meeting other women he once dated or had feelings for, and he couldn’t believe that he’d deluded himself into believing it would be. He didn’t feel bland detachment right now. He wanted to keep holding her. He wanted to kiss her. Being with Melissa again put him emotionally smack-dab where he was almost a month ago, standing in her bathroom, waiting for her to confess that she felt the same way about him as he did for her, only for her to say, “I’m just not here for a love thing.”
Melissa stepped back, loosening her hold on him. “Shit! I’m freaking out right now. I’m still shaking.”
Jamal frowned. “Why are you freaking out?”
“You didn’t see it on the news?” she asked, now wide-eyed. “You didn’t hear what happened?”
He shook his head, confused. “No. What . . . what happened?”
“There was a drive-by shooting at the Institute. It happened a few hours ago. A couple kids were killed. Derrick got shot, too.”
Jamal stared at her in disbelief. “What . . . h-how . . . is he okay?”
She nodded. “He’s better, but he’s still recuperating in the ICU. I just got off the phone with his mama. She said he’s in stable condition, but it was touch and go at first. They’re all at the hospital right now waiting for him to wake up. But the doctor said his prospects look good.”
“Well, that’s good . . . I mean that’s great! I guess that’s the best-case scenario you could ask for, considering . . . well, everything.” Jamal pursed his lips, still stunned but happy to hear Derrick was going to be all right. “So I guess you’re off to the hospital then. You know, you could’ve canceled. I would’ve understood. You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me you’re going to check on him.”
Jamal knew she probably wanted to be at Derrick’s side right now. He knew that despite her anger and heartache, she’d want to be there when Derrick opened his eyes. But Melissa surprised him by crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head.
“I wasn’t heading there. I told you, his mama said he’s stable now.” She shrugged. “Besides, that chick is up there with them. His mama said she’s been hanging out in the waiting room waiting for news on Derrick.” Melissa sighed. “She’s his girl now. I’m not. I’d just be intruding. I’ll give him a call when he’s out of the hospital. I’ll send flowers
, too.”
“Oh,” Jamal uttered, shocked at how casual she sounded.
Maybe it really was over between them. Maybe she’d finally moved on.
“Sorry for dropping this bomb on you,” Melissa said. “I really did think you knew already about the shooting. It’s been all over the news.”
“I didn’t watch any news today, and besides checking sports scores, I haven’t read anything online since this morning.”
“Well, anyway . . . let’s change the subject. I’ve been obsessing about this for hours. I want to talk about something else. How have you been? What’s going on with you?”
“I’m fine. Not much has changed,” he lied.
“Really? Because I heard about the mayor’s arrest. When I did, I instantly thought about you,” she whispered, raising a hand to his face. She ran a thumb along his cheek tenderly, making the knot tighten in his stomach again, making the yearning grow ten-fold. “I wanted to call you after I heard, but you said you . . . well, that you needed space. I thought it might be too soon to reach out to you. I hope it gave you some relief to know he can’t bother you anymore though.” She searched his face. “Did the panic attacks stop? Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah, uh . . . much better,” he said distractedly as he tugged her hand away from his cheek. He glanced at the closed doors leading to the theater.
He hoped the performance would start soon. The sooner it began, the sooner it would be over—and he could leave. It was a mistake to come here today. He should’ve waited longer to see her again.
She eyed him. “Is everything okay, Jay?”
He turned to look at her again. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know.” She took off her jacket and looped it over her arm. “You just seem . . .” She shook her head again and smiled. “Never mind.”
He pointed in the distance. “Looks like the doors are opening. We better get in line.”
They arrived at their seats five minutes later. They were close to the stage—only about four rows back. Jamal couldn’t believe it, but he felt worse in such a confined space. Now their knees and elbows brushed. Now they were so close that if he turned to his right, he would be dangerously close to her neck and ear. It took all his willpower not to lean over and nip her earlobe or lick the spot on the base of her neck that made her moan.