Friend or Foe

by Imani Black

“Chey! You ready?” Lil Kev called out from the other side of the door. He’d been sticking with her since they both found out the truth.

  Lil Kev had been locked up for a while until all the gun and drug charges from the raid were settled. He never snitched on the cemetery shooters, but he found they were actually some Mexicans Big K had got in over his head with. They were shooting for the person they ended up hitting.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” Cheyenne called back. She exhaled loudly and opened the door and stepped out.

  “Damn. You look just like Mommy in that suit,” Lil Kev commented.

  Cheyenne smiled. If she could ever be half the woman that her mother was, her mother’s life wouldn’t have been lived in vain.

  “You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” she said to her brother. She grabbed his arm, and they headed out to the court together.

  Chapter 24

  Kelsi, Cheyenne, Brice

  The incessant drone of two tall metal fans situated at the back corners of the stuffy, hot courtroom felt like small flies buzzing in Kelsi’s ears—the annoying kind of flies that buzz around shit and then come land on your skin. The ones you keep swatting away but can never seem to get rid of.

  The hottest day of the year and Kelsi was on the hot seat. Her legs swung in and out. It felt good to move them apart and then back together without the restraint of the leg irons she had worn to court from Riker’s Island. Kelsi ignored the hum of the crowd in the courtroom. It wasn’t lost on her that everyone there was talking about her. Some probably came because they wanted a piece of her too—hood vigilantes who wanted justice for the wrong. Yeah, right. They wanted to be nosey.

  Kelsi’s lawyer kept telling her, “Not since the Long Island Lolita has New York seen a case like this. The difference is Mary Jo Buttafuoco lived.”

  Kelsi knew that she was probably the most hated twenty-three-year-old in all of New York City. That was all good with her. Shit, she had hated herself since she was about eight or nine anyway. Her mother hated her. Her father must’ve hated her because he never tried to find her. Girls in school had hated her. Teachers hated her. Adults she’d met hated her. Right now, her best friend in the whole world definitely hated her, so what the fuck did Kelsi care if all these strangers hated her? Kelsi knew the one person who had ever really loved her was in the back of that courtroom talking about her too.

  Kelsi kept seeing Cheyenne’s face behind her eyelids like she was watching still photos on a projector screen. Kelsi could picture Cheyenne in all of the stages of their lives—little kids playing double-dutch, pre-teens taking up for each other on the battlefield they called a neighborhood, teenagers sneaking out to parties, and now, as women both in pain and distress. Cheyenne wasn’t ever going to forgive Kelsi for what she’d done. Never. Kelsi didn’t deserve to be forgiven, either.

  The court officer’s booming baritone interrupted Kelsi’s thoughts.

  “All rise! The Honorable Rowena Graves presiding.”

  The rustle of suits and dresses as the crowd inside the packed courtroom rose to their feet was so pronounced it was like someone was scratching sandpaper next to Kelsi’s ears. It sent an uneasy feeling through her empty stomach. Trying to eat breakfast had been useless. Who could eat when the fate of their life was in the hands of some white bitch judge with the last name Graves? Graves, as in a place where people are buried. Grave, as in something that signaled danger or harm. Those were the definitions Kelsi had read in the jail library. Yeah, shit was grave for her, all right. She had put herself in the fucked-up situation all because she was looking for love.

  Kelsi’s legs felt like two strands of cooked pasta as she stood up. The muscles burned in every part of her body like she’d worked out for ten hours without stopping, the result of the all-night pacing she’d done back on her cellblock.

  Kelsi’s lawyer stood next to her, clutching Kelsi’s right elbow as if he could sense that she was about to take a spill onto the courtroom floor. Kelsi’s lips curled from the wave of nausea that crept up from the pit of her stomach to her esophagus.

  Judge Graves took her seat. There was nothing attractive about the judge, and Kelsi wasn’t just thinking that because she was about to decide the fate of her life. The judge was small and hunched over like she was about to look for something on the floor. Kelsi could tell that the lump that had settled between the judge’s shoulders as easily as a camel’s grew was just what was meant to happen to her as she got older. Judge Graves reminded Kelsi of a witch she had seen in the book Hansel and Gretel when she was back with Nana, when Kelsi was still allowed to attend school. If she remembered it right, the witch in the book ate kids or something like that. Judge Graves did too.

  To Kelsi, the judge looked like she smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day. Kelsi knew a smoker when she saw one. That drawn-up, ashen, purplish-toned skin. Those square, grey, stained teeth. Those burnt-tipped fingers and greenish-gray fingernails. Kelsi had lived with smokers all her life. Judge Graves probably hid her packa-day habit from her family and friends. Of course, they’d be too bourgie to recognize the signs of a chain smoker. Kelsi pictured Graves spraying something minty into her mouth and using that stink-ass White Diamonds perfume that old ladies wore just because Elizabeth Taylor made it. That was a fleeting thought—Kelsi wondering if Judge Graves had family who cared about her.

  The judge waved her wrinkled hand and motioned for everyone to be seated. “Except for the defendant and her counsel,” Graves growled, that distinct smoker’s rattle bubbling in her throat.

  Kelsi’s lawyer gave her elbow a quick squeeze. Kelsi ignored him.

  “Counsel, I am going to address your client directly. No sense in prolonging this. Your client has been convicted by a jury of her peers, and I am prepared to sentence her today. Is that understood?” Judge Graves announced.

  Her attorney said, “Yes, Your Honor,” and let go of Kelsi’s arm like it was a venomous snake.

  Kelsi stared straight at the judge. Her thoughts raced like the cars at the Daytona 500. Jury of her peers? Kelsi hardly thought that five old white ladies, two white men, two Hispanic ladies, one Chinese guy, one black dude who slept the entire trial, and one old black lady who kept crying whenever somebody mentioned the victim, counted as a fucking jury of her peers. There wasn’t one black girl on there that had been through the shit Kelsi had been through. Not one chick that could believe how that could have happened to Kelsi. Jury of her peers, her ass.

  Kelsi’s legs were moving, but she wasn’t making them move. She also couldn’t make them stop moving.

  “Miss Jones, the crime you have committed is abominable, to say the least. In my opinion, you don’t ever need to walk the streets again. You crossed not only legal boundaries, but you trampled all moral and civil boundaries. Trust is something that you earn, and in light of the situation, no one on God’s green earth should ever trust you again.

  “Under New York State sentencing guidelines, this court is prepared to sentence you to life in prison without the possibility of parole. However, it is your due process of the law that we give you an opportunity to tell me, and this court, why I should not render the most punitive sentence available to me under the guidelines. You can tell me why, in your own words, I might have leniency on you and maybe sentence you to twenty-five years to life with the possibility of parole. What that means is maybe one day some parole board will have mercy on your soul and let you back onto the streets.

  “Before I render a final sentence, you will also have the opportunity to present members of society who can speak on your behalf, to tell me why they think I should have leniency on you during this sentencing.

  “Miss Jones, I must tell you, that just as it is your right to bring forth others who can speak for you, it is also the victim’s family’s opportunity to tell me why I should put you away for the rest of your natural born life. Under this process, it is their right as well. Do you have any questions?” Graves grumbled, looking over the edge of her thick oyster-shell
frames. Her words resounded loudly off the hollow oak-covered courtroom walls.

  The gravity of what she was saying felt like a thousand-pound anchor around Kelsi’s neck. She realized that the small dashes of light fluttering at the backs of her eyes were just her starting to get dizzy. A few sighs could be heard from the back of the room. Kelsi swore she could feel the heat from all the eyes boring holes into the back of her head.

  She could only imagine what Cheyenne must’ve been thinking when she heard “the victim’s family.” Probably crying and biting her lip. Kelsi knew her so well. She had seen Cheyenne when Kelsi was first led into the courtroom. Still pretty. Still way more conservative than Kelsi had ever been. She never took her eyes off of Kelsi. Aside from the first quick glance, Kelsi couldn’t look at Cheyenne directly, so she lowered her eyes.

  “Miss Jones, after I hear you out, I have the discretion to formulate a sentence as I see fit according to the sentencing guidelines. Whatever sentence is imposed, you will be remanded to the State of New York for the duration of your sentence. We are prepared to hear your statement. So, I ask, do you have anything you would like to say to the court or the family members of the victim who are present in the courtroom today?” Judge Graves continued.

  Kelsi licked her dry, cracked lips. She was prepared to recite the long apology she had rehearsed over and over again with her lawyer. She had let some of the girls on her jail tier hear it. They said they would’ve given her a break if they were the judge. Picture that, any of them ever being a judge. They all lived in a fantasy a lot in jail.

  Kelsi opened her mouth several times to speak. Finally, when the words were about to come, she heard that familiar, raspy voice exploding in her ears.

  “Hmmm, I told you, bitch. I told you you wouldn’t amount to shit! You was never shit. You came from shit, and ain’t never going to be shit either!”

  It was Carlene, the sorry sack of shit that gave birth to Kelsi. A birth canal was what Carlene was to her. Carlene surely had never been a mother. Kelsi felt like somebody had hit her in the chest with one of those big, metal sledgehammers they use at carnivals to hit the small ball into the bell at the top of a tall pole. The stronger the person, the more effective the hit.

  Kelsi couldn’t breathe. A flame ignited on her skin, and her cheeks burned. A ball of fire that had been growing inside of her since she was a little girl finally exploded. Kelsi didn’t turn around. She was afraid of what she might do if she did. Her entire body shook. She couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Kelsi willed herself to stay still, although in her mind’s eye, she could see herself jumping over the wooden divider and wilding out. Anything she did now would just make sentencing worse on her.

  The court officers rushed over to Carlene to make sure she was put out. The judge banged her gavel and screamed, “Order!”

  Kelsi bit into the side of her cheek until she drew the sweet and metallic taste of her own blood. Her chest heaved in and out, and she swayed on her feet. The nerve of that bitch! Kelsi’s fists involuntarily curled so tight her bones felt like they’d bust through her knuckles. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Carlene had gotten enough tears out of her.

  Enough! Kelsi screamed over and over in her head. The chaotic scene made the spot directly above her right ear throb with pain.

  “Order!” Judge Graves yelled again as the crowd in the courtroom murmured about the outburst. “Order!” the judge yelled again, quieting the room once more.

  “Miss Jones?” Judge Graves continued, giving Kelsi the nod to speak her last words.

  Kelsi was ready. She was motivated by the ball of fire sizzling in her chest.

  “Yes, Your Honor, I have something to say,” Kelsi said, crumpling the paper in front of her. She could feel her fresh-out-of-law-school attorney shifting next to her.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered harshly in Kelsi’s ear. He knew then that she was not going to read the remorse speech he had prepared for her. He lifted his hand up to interrupt her. “Ah, judge, my client—” the attorney started.

  “Sit the fuck down! I have something to say,” Kelsi boomed. She was not letting anyone else in the world speak for her. She had done that all her life.

  The judge seemed a little thrown off her game by the power of Kelsi’s voice.

  “Mr. Broughton, please. Sit down. Go ahead, Miss Jones,” Graves ordered, her voice showing a hint of respect for Kelsi.

  “Ahem. I am Kelsi Jones, and I regret what I did so much, but I want everyone to know that I am a victim myself. Please allow me to tell my story,” Kelsi said, choking back tears, although she knew none would come. She had been all cried out. It was so quiet in the courtroom you could probably hear a mouse pissing on a cotton ball. Kelsi had everyone’s full attention now.

  * * *

  Life without the possibility of parole. Life without the possibility of parole.

  The words kept replaying over and over in Kelsi’s mind. Loud gasps rolled through the crowded courtroom. Reporters burst out of the courtroom doors so they’d be the first to report the story.

  Kelsi didn’t even react. She didn’t cry. She didn’t get weak at the knees. She stood there while Judge Graves read her the riot act for what seemed like the one hundredth time. Kelsi kept her head up high. After all, pretty girls didn’t go around with their heads down.

  She deserved it. After reliving everything, Kelsi realized just how much she deserved it. All her life, she had blamed others for any mistakes she’d made, but it was her. Kelsi was the one who had pulled that trigger. She was the one who had slept with another woman’s husband after that same woman had been more than a mother to her. She had tried to steal her life. Kelsi was finally able to take responsibility for her actions. She’d done it, and she deserved to rot in prison for the rest of her life.

  Kelsi didn’t turn around after the sentence was handed down. The court officers flanked her on either side. They’d come to take her away. She didn’t have the courage to turn around and look at the faces of the ones she had hurt. She never wanted her son to see her face. Although he was only a few months old, she knew it best that he never had to grow up ashamed of his biological mother like Kelsi had.

  She was sure that Cheyenne was going to give him a good life. Cheyenne had loved Kelsi at some point in their lives. She was just like Ms. Desiree, selfless and like a saint. Kelsi’s son was Cheyenne’s baby brother, and after Kelsi had given birth to him, in her heart, she had named Cheyenne the godmother, just like they’d planned it as kids.

  Kelsi kept her head up all the way back to the courthouse holding cells. Her attorney was the last person she saw that day. He handed Kelsi a sealed envelope and told her to open it when she was alone. Kelsi stuffed it down her panties since she knew that once she got to the jail, they’d take it away.

  When Kelsi was finally alone with no guards breathing down her back, she opened the envelope. There was a card inside. Kelsi opened it. She immediately recognized the handwriting.

  Kelsi,

  You are not like my daughter; you are my other daughter.

  Here is your set of keys to our new home. I told you that I would always be here for you. Well, I meant it. Now, get to packing!

  Love always,

  Ms. Desiree

  That was it. Kelsi fell to the floor. She had nothing left. She curled her body into a ball and closed her eyes. She finally relived what she’d done. Her eyelids were like a movie projector as she watched it unfold again and again and again.

  * * *

  Right before Kelsi was sentenced and after everyone had heard her life story, the judge spoke. “The court has heard from the defendant. It is now time for the court to hear from the victim’s family,” Judge Graves rasped. She had taken off her glasses and was pinching the bridge of her nose as she spoke.

  Cheyenne couldn’t tell if the judge wanted to cry or what. Kelsi’s story had touched the judge in some way. Cheyenne hadn’t thought about the ye
ars before her father got locked up in so long that she found herself hanging on Kelsi’s every word. Those were the best days of Cheyenne’s life. She found herself tearing up as she recalled how much she loved Kelsi back then. Kelsi was truly like Cheyenne’s sister then.

  Cheyenne shook her head left to right, trying to get her focus back. She had a very important job to do. A very important story to tell.

  Cheyenne tapped Lil Kev on his shoulder. “Kev, it’s our turn to talk,” she said to him.

  His fists were balled tightly, his mouth was pursed, and he rocked his legs furiously. Cheyenne knew what that meant, but she still wanted to give him the chance to say something if he wanted.

  “C’mon,” she whispered, touching his shoulder.

  He wouldn’t move.

  Cheyenne looked up at the judge with a simple, nervous grin on her face. It was all on her to speak on behalf of their family. As Cheyenne inched out of the row where she and Lil Kev sat, she suddenly felt the acids in her stomach burning. Her mother’s suit suddenly seemed too tight, and sweat lined up like ready soldiers at her hairline.

  It seemed like it took Cheyenne forever to walk up to the little wooden podium where the microphone stood. The courtroom was eerily quiet, although it was packed. She filled her cheeks with air, an attempt at staving off the wave of nausea that swept over her.

  Cheyenne felt Kelsi staring at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at her. She’d taught Cheyenne a huge life lesson—there was nothing deeper than love turned to hate. Cheyenne had loved Kelsi. She had loved Kelsi so deeply that now she hated her enough to kill her with her bare hands.

  “Ms. Turner, are you all right?” Judge Graves asked, her eyes going low at the sides.

  Cheyenne cleared her dry throat, closed her eyes, pictured her mother’s face, and shook her head up and down. She took a quick glance over at Kelsi then. Kelsi quickly averted her eyes. Cheyenne knew Kelsi would never be able to hold eye contact with her. Kelsi was a coward in Cheyenne’s book.