Know Your Place

by Shelly Ellis

  “Look, I know you ain’t a gangbanger like the rest of these niggas. You ain’t into busting heads to get shit done, and you don’t have to be. That ain’t why I keep you around. But I’m gonna need your help in figuring this shit out, too. I need you to pay attention. Keep your ears open. Even see if you can track down one of these girls. You a smooth nigga. One of them bitches would talk to you. She’d spill her guts. I know she would. Then you bring her to me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Ricky swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll do all that I can.”

  Dolla Dolla nodded again and slapped his shoulder. He smiled. “I’m countin’ on you, Ricky. I’m countin’ on every one of y’all. Don’t let me down.”

  “I won’t.”

  * * *

  “You son of a bitch!” Detective Dominguez bellowed as Ricky strode through the office doorway an hour later.

  The tech looked up from his open laptop. His face was grim. Dominguez leapt from his chair and jabbed his finger at Ricky. Detective Ramsey grabbed his partner’s arm and tugged him back, holding him with all his might.

  “You son of bitch!” Dominguez shouted. “You played us, didn’t you?”

  Ricky vehemently shook his head. “I didn’t play you, man. I did what I had to do! They were checking for bugs . . . for wires. They—”

  “Bullshit! You ripped off that mike so we wouldn’t hear what you two were talking about!” Dominguez insisted, sending spittle flying from his mouth. His teeth were bared, making him looked like some rabid dog. “But I’m on to you, you son of a bitch!”

  “Come on, Mateo,” Ramsey murmured, still holding his arm. “Calm the hell down.”

  “No, I’m not calming the fuck down! He’s been playing us this whole time, making us think he was gonna flip and work with us, when he’s really still working for Dolla. He probably told him about the whole investigation!”

  Ricky inclined his head. “You really think I would do that shit? Tell him that I’ve been talking to the cops this whole time . . . that I’m just pretending to be an informant like I’m some damn double agent? What kinda movies have you been watchin’?” He curled his lip. “That would be the dumbest fucking thing in the world for me to do!”

  “You’re full of shit, you fucking liar!” Dominguez yelled, charging at him again. “We should just dump you! Throw your ass back in—”

  “Stop!” Ramsey said, holding up his hands and standing between them. “Enough! Enough, all right? This doesn’t solve a goddamn thing!” He turned to Dominguez. “And what do you mean, we should just dump him? Stop acting like we’ve got limitless choices! This thing is too big to screw it up, and right now, he’s the only lead we got.”

  At that, Dominguez finally quieted. He turned away in disgust and stalked off to a corner, kicking a chair out of his way as he went.

  Ramsey loudly groused and dropped his hands to his hips. He looked at Ricky again.

  “I’m sorry my partner went off on you like that, but you understand our situation here, don’t you?” Ramsey asked. “We send you in there with a wire and you come back with nothing.”

  “And I explained to you that I had to dump it. They gave me a pat-down as soon as I walked in there. They even took my goddamn phone away! His bodyguards are checking all of us now. I can’t wear a wire and y’all are just gonna have to accept that shit.”

  “If you can’t wear a wire then what the fuck do we need you for, huh?” Dominguez shouted from the corner. “Why the fuck should we even bother?”

  Ricky narrowed his eyes at him. “Because your partner said it himself: I’m all you got. No one knows Dolla’s businesses and has an in with him like I do. Nobody! Y’all know it. I know it. And I also know what his plans are. I know what’s up next.”

  Ramsey raised his brows. “What’s up next?”

  “He’s starting to track down witnesses so that he can shut them up. And I hope y’all can get to all of them before he does.”

  Chapter 6

  Jamal

  “Welcome to the Horchow Hotel, gentlemen!” the doorman said with a slight Spanish accent after swinging open the door to their Lincoln Town Car.

  It was a little after one o’clock and Jamal and Mayor Johnson had just arrived in Manhattan. The duo was traveling again—this time to a governance conference. It was their fourth trip in the past two weeks. The mayor was certainly living up to his end of the bargain by making sure Jamal was at his side when he went to these events. Jamal was starting to feel like he had replaced Mayor Johnson’s wife, Brenda, as his plus one.

  As Jamal and the mayor climbed out of the sedan, Jamal looked up at the skyscrapers, at the hundred or so people walking or milling about on the busy city sidewalk. He heard the sound of honking horns, car engines, and steady thud of heels on cement.

  Though he’d spent most of his life living in the big city, surrounded by people, buildings, and noise, nothing . . . absolutely nothing compared to New York, in his book. And it wasn’t just the sights: the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty, Times Square and Central Park. It was the people. All their hopes, dreams, and fears were crammed into three hundred square miles. They created a palpable energy that he swore he could feel even through the car’s tinted windows as they drove into town. He felt the buzz even stronger now, standing on the curb.

  “Our first meeting is scheduled for two thirty, right?” Jamal asked.

  “It is indeed! Giving us just enough time to freshen up in our hotel rooms. Maybe grab some room service.” The older man glanced down at his Movado wristwatch. “Meet me in the lobby at say . . . oh . . . two p.m.?”

  Jamal nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  They left the hotel at two o’clock, on the nose. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity, and Jamal struggled to orient himself. He shook hands with mayors, deputy mayors, and council members. He mused over crackers and canapés with federal government undersecretaries and corporate CEOs. He might have even taken a few photos with a foreign minister from Japan, though he couldn’t say for sure; he couldn’t remember the man’s name or title. The whole time, Jamal kept his polite smile locked in place and his answers surface-level and brief—as the mayor had instructed.

  “Let me do the talking, Jay,” he’d told him tightly during their first trip together to Chicago.

  At the time, Jamal had joined a conversation between Mayor Johnson and a few council members from San Francisco about the District’s new business incubator program, something Jamal had personally taken the lead on. But his intrusion had obviously upset Mayor Johnson.

  “I’ll let you know if I need your assistance, but remember, I’m the mayor,” he’d told him.

  “Yes, sir,” Jamal had replied, feeling chastised.

  But even though Jamal had agreed to the mayor’s demand, it annoyed him.

  When he’d told Mayor Johnson that he wanted to have a higher profile as deputy mayor of planning and economic development for the District, this wasn’t exactly what he’d meant—zipping around in airplanes to summits and conferences, shaking hands and taking pictures. He’d wanted to show people that he was insightful and articulate, that he was smart and eager to learn. He wanted to show them that he could be a real leader—maybe even mayor himself, someday. Instead, he resembled a grinning robot only capable of giving automated answers. He was no better than an electronic mall kiosk, giving directions to Lord & Taylor and the Gap.

  When the Town Car arrived back at the Horchow Hotel at around eight p.m., Jamal rode the elevator to the forty-second floor, inserted his key card into the lock, shoved open the door, and flicked on the lights, revealing a loveseat, coffee table, queen-size bed, dresser, and flat-screen television. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the sofa and walked across the room, grabbing the remote as he went. He flicked on the television and fell face-first on the bed, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

  He was exhausted and looking forward to a quiet evening alone in his hotel room, watching
pay-per-view, eating room service, and maybe enjoying a couple of mini bottles of vodka and a box of M&M’s from the minibar.

  By ten o’clock he was already in pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, eating shrimp linguini and flipping channels when he heard a knock. He frowned and rose to his feet. He walked across the room and looked through the door’s peephole, surprised to see the mayor standing in the corridor. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Mayor Johnson looked him up and down. “Don’t tell me you were already going to retire for the evening. Not a young man like you!”

  Jamal glanced at his pajama bottoms. “I thought we had an early start tomorrow so I—”

  “Not that early! Besides, how often are we in New York nowadays with our busy schedules? You should enjoy yourself. You’ve been working so hard and doing such a good job, Jay. I’ve been so impressed with you!”

  Jamal’s eyes widened. “You . . . you have?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised! You’ve been representing the District well. And I feel like we’ve developed . . . I don’t know . . . a sort of friendship between us . . . a level of trust now. Would you agree?”

  “Uh, sure. Sure, I trust you.”

  About as far as I can throw you, Jamal thought sarcastically, but didn’t say it aloud.

  “Good! Because I’d love to let you in on a little secret of mine. One that I’m sure you’ll enjoy!”

  “What secret, sir?”

  The mayor laughed. “Well, you certainly can’t find out the answer standing here in your pajamas! Throw on some clothes—one of your suits would be perfectly fine—and meet me downstairs near the elevator in about fifteen minutes. That’s doable, right?”

  Jamal started to respond, to tell the mayor that he wasn’t feeling up to going out tonight and just wanted to rest, but the older man turned and walked away before he could. So instead, Jamal closed the door and scrambled to throw on some clothes and some cologne in the next fifteen minutes.

  He arrived downstairs to find the mayor waiting for him in the lobby, where he was chatting up one of the bellhops.

  “Let’s be on our way,” the older man said before strolling to the hotel’s automatic doors.

  Let’s be on our way.

  That seemed to be a favored phrase of the mayor’s. Unfortunately, each time he said it, he didn’t seem to find it necessary to explain where the hell they were going. They walked into the chilly night and found another Town Car waiting for them. The driver held the door open and the mayor automatically climbed inside, but Jamal hesitated. He didn’t know where they were going or what they were doing. Mayor Johnson still hadn’t elaborated. What the hell was going on?

  “I didn’t take you for being a timid one, Jay!” Mayor Johnson called out to him playfully. “Get in! The night is wasting away, my friend.”

  “Can you give me a hint where we’re headed though?”

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I did!”

  Jamal hesitated a few more seconds, then sighed.

  In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. Once again, he climbed onto the back seat and reluctantly went along for the ride.

  The car pulled off and the mayor began to yammer into his cell phone. Meanwhile, Jamal gazed out the tinted windows at the dark sky beyond the outline of brightly lit buildings as they drove. He didn’t know New York well enough to say exactly where they were headed, but after a while, he figured they were somewhere in the East Village based on the landmarks like Little Tokyo. They pulled up in front of a nondescript brick building, circling to the back entrance, where two large men stood in front of a rusted steel door.

  What the hell, Jamal thought for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

  Once again the driver stepped out and opened the car door. The mayor headed out first, buttoning his wool coat as he did. Jamal slid out after him, stepping into the blustery cold of the dark city night.

  “Come on, Jay! You’re about to have the time of your life, brotha,” he murmured, his breath sending a mist into the air as they walked toward the steel door. “How you doing this evening?” Johnson called up to one of the bouncers with an easy familiarity, as though he had been here many times before.

  “Good, sir,” the bouncer said as he held the door open for the mayor and Jamal.

  “Is this some sort of club?” Jamal asked, dropping his voice to a whisper.

  The mayor laughed. “Just you wait and see, my friend.”

  The two men walked down a darkened corridor, where their footsteps echoed off the cement floor and high ceilings. It didn’t look like a club; it looked like a storage facility with boxes and shelves stacked on each side. Jamal glanced around him uneasily. How exactly was he supposed to have the time of his life in here? Was this some kind of a setup? Had the mayor strung him along for weeks, given him some song and dance about business trips and giving him a higher profile, only to have him murdered here in the East Village?

  Jamal stared over his shoulder, waiting for some menacing figure to leap from the shadows.

  They stopped in front of an industrial elevator where another bouncer-looking type sat on a stool, smoking a cigarette.

  The mayor reached into his breast pocket and swiped a gilded card that looked like a hotel room key over a reader sitting next to the elevator. The reader let out a chirp then flashed green.

  The bouncer nodded at the mayor, then scrutinized Jamal.

  “Uh, he’s my guest,” Johnson said, never losing his smile. “One allowed per member. Correct?”

  The bouncer grunted a yes, then yanked open the wooden gate and the metal grate to the elevator. Jamal followed Johnson inside, watching as the older man pressed the button for the top floor.

  “You know, Jay,” the mayor began as the rickety elevator lurched into motion with a series of squeals and bangs. “When you do business trips like these, it’s easy to get bogged down in the mundaneness of it all. I swear my eyes nearly crossed more than once today with how goddamn bored I was!” He began to remove his coat. “I don’t care about interagency agreements and municipal bond ratings and that idiot of a president we have now. But I have to pretend that I care . . . and it can be downright exhausting! Do you get what I mean, Jay?”

  “Y-yes, sir,” Jamal stuttered, still looking around him uneasily.

  “A man has to unwind every now and then! You have to enjoy yourself or you’ll implode!” He tossed his coat over his arm and clapped Jamal on the shoulder, startling him. “And that’s what we’re about to do. Are you ready, Jay?”

  Jamal didn’t get a chance to respond before the elevator came to a screeching halt. He heard the pounding bass of the music before the gate even opened. When it did, Jamal was greeted by a sight that made him pause yet again, even as Mayor Johnson strolled into the red-hued room, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

  It looked like the elevator had spilled them into a warehouse that had been converted into a plush night club, one populated by staid-looking men in business suits and much, much younger women. Unlike the men, the women weren’t wearing suits or business attire. In fact, some of them had skipped wearing clothes entirely and were nude, save for their high heels.

  As Jamal gazed around him, he saw breasts—lots and lots of breasts. He saw bare asses. Jamal looked to his left and saw a short Asian man chatting up a blonde at the bar who was wearing nipple clamps and a leather G-string. He saw another man casually sitting in a booth drinking a martini while a buxom Latina with a tiger tattoo on her thigh straddled his lap and grinded on top of him in time to the music.

  “Where . . . where are we?” Jamal murmured dazedly.

  “You don’t need to know where we are,” Johnson called back to him with a grin. “Just know that everything here is comped. The liquor, the drugs—and the women,” he said with a wink. “Consider it a gift from me to you. It’s a reminder of what you get when you’re loyal to your friends.”

  Jamal gaped. This was not any gift he�
�d wanted or asked for, and he was just about to tell Johnson that, but a woman strolled toward them. She was a black Amazon—almost six-foot tall in heels. She was a dark-skinned North African beauty with delicate features and large, medically enhanced breasts. She wore a fur skirt and a bikini top. Her arms were extended like she was about to envelop the mayor in a hug.

  “Vern, you came!” she shouted over the pounding dance music. “Where you been, baby? I haven’t seen you in months!”

  “Been missing you, Jasmine,” Mayor Johnson crooned back to her as she wrapped her arms around him. She lowered her mouth to his and gave him a long, wet kiss.

  As Jamal watched the mayor and the young woman tongue each other down, he guessed that the mayor’s wife probably didn’t know about Jasmine. She probably didn’t know the mayor was a card-carrying member of a high-end brothel, either.

  “Come on, baby,” Jasmine said after a minute, tugging her head away and saucily licking her lips. “Let’s go somewhere private so you can show me just how much you missed me.”

  The mayor laughed and slapped her ass, making her giggle. He and Jasmine wandered off, heading across the club, leaving Jamal standing awkwardly near the elevator.

  “Can I take your coat, sir?” a voice suddenly piped up from behind him.

  Jamal whipped around to find a willowy blonde, wearing sheer lingerie, staring at him eagerly.

  “No!” he shouted, making her blink at him in surprise. “I . . . I m-mean, yes,” he stuttered as he shrugged out of his camel wool coat. “Y-y-yes, thank you. But I . . . I won’t be staying long.”

  She nodded and took his coat from him. “It will be waiting for you over here, sir,” she said before handing him a paper ticket and walking swiftly to a door near the elevator.

  Jamal turned around, buttoned his suit jacket, and walked toward the bar. He would wait for the mayor there, though he had no idea how long he would be waiting. Perhaps if the mayor took too much time, he could head back downstairs to the Town Car, though he had no idea if it was still idling along the curb.