Know Your Place

by Shelly Ellis

  If you wanted to play with the big boys, you had to keep your sneaks handy and be ready to get it poppin’ at a moment’s notice.

  He loudly exhaled. “Sure, sir. Lead the way.”

  They walked toward the elevators that would take them to the mezzanine level. The mayor pressed the down button and glanced at Jamal.

  “I’ll be honest, Jay. I’m rather looking forward to this trip. Things have been . . . well . . . tense as of late, now that our mutual friend has managed to get himself into trouble,” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder.

  Jamal knew Johnson was referring to Dolla Dolla. The drug kingpin had been secretly in business with the mayor for years. Dolla Dolla had even helped fund Johnson’s campaign. Though few, besides Jamal, knew of the mayor’s and the high-profile criminal’s professional relationship, everyone in town had heard about Dolla Dolla’s arrest. It had made the front page of all the local papers, and videos of Dolla Dolla’s perp walk kept appearing on the news in constant rotation with Dolla Dolla gazing menacingly at the reporters and cameras. Jamal had also heard that Ricky’s restaurant and strip club had been raided. He’d wondered if his old buddy had been arrested too.

  More than once in the past few days he had dialed Ricky’s number to see if he was all right . . . if the cops had managed to snare him. He would dial, only to hang up before the phone started ringing. Jamal would remind himself that they weren’t friends anymore; his intrusion into Ricky’s life might not be appreciated. And besides, Jamal had warned Ricky that one day his dealings with Dolla Dolla would drag him into some shady mess. It was bound to happen eventually.

  You’re one to talk, nigga, Ricky’s voice chided in his head, but Jamal ignored it.

  “Our mutual friend is in quite the situation,” the mayor continued as they waited, “and now I’ve been tasked with helping him to get out of it, like I’m some goddamn miracle worker. Our friend is—”

  “Please stop calling him that,” Jamal said, cringing. “He’s not my friend. He never was. I don’t even know the man!”

  The mayor let out a rumbling chuckle, deep and throaty, that made his chest quiver. He sounded like a movie villain. “Oh, Jay, quite to the contrary! He’s my friend . . . and now he’s your friend too, thanks to our deal. He’s our mutual benefactor. His fate, unfortunately, may be connected to ours.” He glanced at Jamal again as the elevator doors finally opened. “Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever . . . ever forget who your friends are. Or you might live to regret it.”

  At those words, Jamal audibly swallowed. He then followed the mayor into the elevator, feeling a sense of disquiet even as he did it.

  Chapter 4

  Derrick

  “Where you going, baby?” Melissa called out to Derrick, making him pause.

  He had been about to head into their hallway, but turned back around and strolled into their kitchen instead. He saw his fiancée standing at the granite counter, humming softly as she chopped shallots and green peppers while their calico cat, Brownie, sat purring at her feet on the tiled floor.

  She paused from chopping vegetables and glanced up at Derrick as he walked toward her. “I was just making dinner. Don’t tell me you’re heading out now,” she whined playfully and pouted.

  Derrick leaned down and kissed her neck, making her lower her knife to the chopping block, turn, and raise her lips to his for a sultry kiss.

  He had missed moments like this; he had practically yearned for them. Those several months when he and Melissa had been fighting and could barely look at one another, let alone speak to one another, had been some of the most painful months in his life. Now their relationship was back to what it had been, what it should be. He didn’t have to worry about touching her and watching her shrink away from him. She no longer cooked dinner, silently made her plate, and disappeared into their home office, shutting the door behind her. They ate dinner together and watched a movie afterwards or made love. They were connected again.

  He didn’t want to go back to those dark months, but he knew they very well could. If Melissa ever found out about Morgan, if she ever found out about the affair he’d had during their months of silence, she would leave him. He was sure of it.

  But there’s no reason for her to find out, he thought, as he held her close.

  Morgan still wasn’t speaking to him. Now she was the one ignoring him or answering him in monosyllables whenever they were forced to speak with one another at the Institute. He doubted she would say anything to Melissa; she would’ve done it by now.

  Of course, there were times he wished Morgan would speak, that he could confide in her like he once did. He still wasn’t sure if the suitcases Cole had brought to the Institute were still hidden somewhere or whether Dolla Dolla had finally ordered his minions to move them somewhere else. He’d tried to ask Cole, but the young man had only given him cryptic answers.

  “I’m takin’ care of it. Don’t worry about it,” Cole had told him earlier that week before walking off.

  It was obvious he didn’t think Derrick was on a need-to-know basis. But he knew Cole would tell Morgan the truth if she asked him. The young man had a thing for her, after all. But Derrick couldn’t even talk to Morgan.

  Melissa pulled away from Derrick and smiled, but when she gazed up at him, her smile faded. “What’s the matter? What’s with the frown?”

  He shook his head. “Nothin’.” He kissed her again, this time giving her a quick peck as he wrapped his arms around her. “Just thinking about stuff.”

  She raised her brows. “Oh? Thinkin’ about what stuff?”

  About how you’d look at me if you ever found out what I did. Thinking about the mess I’m still dealing with, he mused, but said instead, “I’m heading out to meet Ricky. That’s why I can’t stay for dinner. He texted me a couple hours ago and asked me to meet up. I’m seeing him for the first time since he got out. It’s . . . it’s gonna be rough. I’m bracing myself for what he’s gonna say . . . what he might be feeling.”

  “It sucks what Ricky’s dealing with.”

  “‘Sucks’ is putting it lightly, bae.”

  “But you know he was on this path. He’s been on it for a long, long time. He knew what he was doing and—”

  “Lissa, stop.”

  “Baby, I’m just saying—”

  “I know what you’re saying,” he replied firmly, cutting her off. “And yes, Ricky isn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve this. He’s losing everything . . . everything, Lissa, and now he’s facing some serious jail time. He didn’t commit a crime. He—”

  “No, he just covered for men who did.”

  Derrick pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. We’ve done enough arguing.” He kissed her forehead. “Life’s too short. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  She gradually nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I know how you feel about Ricky.”

  “No, you don’t. I like Ricky, Dee. I always have! I just don’t like the decisions he makes. But I know he’s your friend. I know he’s been good to you. So give him my love, all right?” she said softly.

  Derrick’s heart warmed at her words. “I will.” He then unwound his arms from around her and walked out of the kitchen.

  “And Dee!” she called after him.

  He turned back around to face her.

  “You’re right too,” she continued, “about . . . about life being too short. I’ve thought about it for a while now, and . . . and I think . . . I think it’s finally time to reach out to my dad.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things for her to say, that was the last that he’d expected. He’d been trying to convince her for years to finally talk to her dad. But she had shut him out of her life after he came out of the closet and moved in with his boyfriend, Lucas.

  “You really mean it, baby?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know how Mama will feel about it, but it’s worth a try.” She shrugge
d. “I figured we can’t keep pretending like he doesn’t exist. I’m not saying that he and I have to go back to what we were before . . . well, before everything happened, but I thought we could try to build some type of a relationship again.” She inclined her head. “What do you think? Should I ask him to meet up for coffee, maybe? So we can talk?”

  Derrick smiled and nodded. “I think that would be really nice, Lissa. I know your dad would love to meet up with you.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll text him today or tomorrow and try to set something up.”

  “Do that. Do it before you lose your nerve,” he said while pointing at her and strolling back into the hall. He headed to their hallway closet to grab his coat. “I’ll be back in a few hours, all right?”

  “All right! Bye, baby!”

  * * *

  Derrick tapped the horn once, then twice. Finally, Ricky spotted his gray Nissan Sentra parked along the curb. When he did, he jogged down the sidewalk toward his car. Derrick squinted out the windshield as his childhood friend approached.

  The sun was setting, so the light wasn’t that good, but even from here, he could see Ricky had bags under his dark eyes, like he hadn’t slept. He looked beat. Ricky hadn’t been in jail for long—only two or three days—but he seemed haggard, like he had been in there for years.

  You look like shit, bruh, Derrick thought.

  But considering what Ricky was enduring, who would look good in this situation?

  When Ricky tugged the door handle and swung the passenger-side door open, Derrick pasted on a grin. He resolved that they wouldn’t talk about jail tonight, or Ricky’s charges. They wouldn’t talk about the raids at Reynaud’s and Club Majesty. Whatever was weighing heavy on his friend’s mind, they would try diligently to ignore it tonight.

  “What’s up, nigga?” he asked, taking on a casual tone as Ricky climbed inside and slammed the door behind him.

  “What’s up?” Ricky echoed with a sigh.

  “Not much,” Derrick said as he pressed the accelerator and turned the wheel. The car pulled onto the roadway. “Same shit at the Institute that I’m always dealing with,” he lied. “You know how it is.”

  “Yeah, but it could be worse,” Ricky said morosely while gazing out the window.

  “But I’ll tell you what . . . forget what happened this week, because we about to get lit, bruh! First, we’re going to the pool hall and have some beers. I might even let you whip my ass at a couple games. Then we’re headed to Ray’s, where—”

  “I don’t wanna do that, Dee,” Ricky interrupted.

  Derrick made a right-hand turn. “That’s cool! If you don’t want to go to Ray’s, we can try the place on F Street that—”

  “I don’t want to go to the place on F Street either. I want to go to Reynaud’s.”

  Derrick tore his eyes from the road and whipped around to face his friend. “What? Why the hell do you want to go there?”

  “I just do,” Ricky answered quietly. “I haven’t been there since I got out. I want to see it. I want to see what they did to it.”

  “Are you sure though?”

  Ricky nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Derrick turned the wheel again. “Okay, bruh! If that’s what you really want to do.”

  It wasn’t a long drive to Ricky’s restaurant, even in evening traffic. They arrived there twenty minutes later, circling the block a few times before they found an open parking space.

  As they approached the building, they could see the lights were off inside and yellow police tape was looped through the entrance’s brass door handles. When they walked up to the locked glass doors, Derrick felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He had no idea what awaited them inside the restaurant, but he was almost certain it wouldn’t be good. He glanced at his friend.

  “Are you really sure you wanna do this, man?” Derrick asked yet again.

  Ricky sighed as he ripped off the yellow police tape from the door frame, letting it flutter to the ground and then down the sidewalk toward a subway grate. “Why not? I’ve got to do this shit anyway! At least for insurance reasons.”

  “But why today? You just got out only a couple of days ago!”

  He didn’t know why his friend was so eager to see, up close and personal, everything that he had once loved and worked hard for, now in shambles.

  Don’t let it smack you in the face. Not this soon, Derrick thought, but didn’t say it aloud.

  Ricky stuck his key into the lock. “Because today is as good as any.” He shoved one of the glass doors open and they were hit with a vague stench that smelled like rotten food. “Because I knew we were meeting up, and . . .” He paused.

  “And what?”

  Ricky grimaced. “I knew with you here, I . . . I wouldn’t have to . . . to do this shit alone.”

  Derrick blinked in surprise.

  Ricky wasn’t one to show vulnerability, even when they were kids. He had always put on a brave front, a bravado that made it seem like nothing ever fazed him. If Ricky was showing even a hint of vulnerability now, Derrick knew his friend had to be at an all-time low.

  They didn’t hug; they just weren’t those kinds of dudes, but at that moment, Derrick wanted to give his friend a reassuring hug. He wanted to let Ricky know he was here for him, so he clapped a hand on Ricky’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “Then let’s do this, bruh.”

  Ricky nodded and stepped inside the restaurant, and Derrick immediately followed. He watched as his friend walked toward a nearby wall panel and flicked on a series of switches, making the restaurant blaze with light. When Derrick saw what lay before him, he winced.

  Almost every table and chair had been overturned. Broken wineglasses and dishes along with silverware lay strewn on the floor; he and Ricky could hear the glass crunching underfoot as they weaved their way among the tables. Derrick even saw a smear of food on some of the walls, as though dishes had been thrown at them purposely. It was an abstract painting, both colorful and sticky. And the smell . . . the smell in the room was awful, almost nauseating.

  Derrick tried to recall the posh restaurant that Reynaud’s had been only a couple weeks ago. Looking around him, he couldn’t.

  “Shit,” Ricky said in one exhalation, stopping in the center of the room and scrubbing his hands over his face. He slowly turned in a circle. “Goddamn.”

  “Those motherfuckas,” Derrick whispered in disbelief, shaking his head with outrage as he surveyed the disarray. “Those motherfuckas! They didn’t have to do this. They didn’t have to fuck your shit up like this!”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how they treat niggas like me. That’s how they teach us a lesson,” Ricky said in a hollow voice that almost didn’t sound like himself. “You’re poor and don’t have shit your whole life. You finally . . . finally hustle your way into something good, something real—and they smack you down! ‘Nice try, nigga! Your black ass goes back to square one!’ ” He bent down, picked up a broken wineglass, then roughly tossed it aside. “I tried to do it the legit way. I tried getting a business loan. I went to eleven different banks and they all said the same damn thing: I was too much of a risk! My business plan was too much of a risk! I tried to get a loan to rent this goddamn spot and they turned me down for that too. Dolla was the only nigga that would help me—who would give me the money to open Reynaud’s. I didn’t have any other choice!” he bellowed, his voice echoing off of the high ceilings. “And now I’m getting punished for doing business with him. The same system that kept turning me away is now punishing me for going around it!”

  Derrick fell silent. He lowered his eyes.

  “But I expected some shit like this from them! I didn’t expect it from her.”

  “Her?” Derrick squinted. “Who are you talking about?”

  “About her . . . about Simone. She did this! She set me up!”

  “Simone?” The name sounded vaguely familiar and suddenly Derrick realized why it did.
He pointed at his friend. “You . . . you mean the cop you were helping out? The one you were helping find her . . . her . . .”

  “Her little sister, Skylar,” Ricky said, finishing for him. “That’s the one.”

  “But I thought you said you were cuttin’ her off . . . that you told her to kick rocks.”

  Ricky loudly grumbled. “Well, I did . . . kinda. Then she just showed up at my place. Next thing I knew, we were fuckin’ almost every night.”

  “The next thing you knew? Like you slipped and fell into that shit.” Derrick closed his eyes. “Oh, come on, man! You really let your dick set you up like that?”

  “It wasn’t just fuckin’, Dee. I poured my heart out to that bitch. I . . . I loved her, and she played me! She probably had been playing me all along—from day one!”

  So he was in love with her. That would explain why Ricky had been so trusting and stupid, which was totally out of character for him.

  I knew this would happen, Derrick thought.

  The moment Derrick had caught wind of the female police officer, he had sensed she would be trouble for his friend, and unfortunately, his worst suspicions had come true.

  He slowly opened his eyes. “Ricky, I get that you fell in love with her and love can . . . well, love can make you stupid.” His thoughts swung back to his old dilemma with Melissa and Morgan, but he dragged them back to the present. “But you knew what was at stake. I don’t understand how you could . . .”

  He stopped when Ricky held up his hand.

  “Don’t! I don’t wanna hear it, Dee! I know I was dumb. I know I fucked up. But I’m handling it. And I’m gonna handle her ass too!”

  “Handle her? What the hell does that mean?”

  “What the hell you think it means? When I see her, I’m gonna choke the shit out of her, and I’m not gonna stop until she’s dead!”