Know Your Place

by Shelly Ellis

  But he hadn’t made the wrong choice. He hadn’t made the choice at all. Melissa had been the one to walk away and he had gone to Morgan, seeking her affection, hoping she would take him back. No wonder she felt like the consolation prize. He had treated her like one.

  “I don’t want you to feel like you’re with the wrong girl,” Morgan continued. “I mean, sometimes I feel like . . . like I’ve got to prove to you that you made the right decision and it makes me feel so . . . so . . .”

  He shook his head and placed a fingertip to her lips. It was finally time to man up, to show her how much she meant to him so that she would harbor no more doubts about how he felt.

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m with you because I want to be.”

  “I know,” she said, but still didn’t look convinced.

  “You know what else? I should start looking for a new place.”

  “A new place?” she repeated, looking taken aback. “Why?”

  “I just wanna start fresh. I’ve been here for years. It seems like the right time. I was . . . I was wondering if you would come looking with me.”

  “Sure, baby! I’d love to help you find a new apartment.”

  “No, I meant . . . I meant, maybe you would want to move in with me. Maybe we could get a place together if you don’t think it’s . . . it’s too soon.”

  At that she smiled, and in her eyes, instead of tears, he saw pure joy.

  “Of course I don’t, boy!” she gushed. “I’d love to find a place with you.”

  “So how about we start looking next week?”

  “Sure!” She eagerly nodded and started bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh, baby, I’m so excited!”

  He laughed. He was excited too.

  Chapter 24

  Ricky

  Ricky stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He grabbed a can from the counter, sprayed shaving foam into the palm of his hand, and began to wipe it on his jawline and cheeks. It was June and getting a lot hotter outside. It seemed like a good time to finally switch from the full beard back to his goatee. He’d just grabbed the razor when he heard his cell phone buzz in his bedroom. He dropped the razor into the sink and rushed out of the bathroom.

  In his haste, he almost slipped on the bathroom tile. His towel fell from his waist to his ankles. He reached for his phone on the night table, saw the number on the screen, and smiled. It was the call he’d been waiting for since yesterday, but he didn’t answer. When his cell stopped ringing, he tugged open one of the drawers in the night table and pulled out his burner phone. He then dialed the mystery number he’d seen on the screen.

  “Hello?” he heard Simone answer timidly above the roadway noise.

  “Hey,” Ricky said as his smile widened into a full grin.

  He didn’t think his phone calls were being traced or tracked by the Metro Police, but he and Simone didn’t want to take any chances, so they had worked out a method to stay in touch that was nearly untraceable. She would continue to call from an assortment of phones at different locations, and he would call her back from his burner. It was cumbersome, but necessary. He’d told her the morning after he’d spent the night at her place months ago that he didn’t want to spend day after day worrying about her and the baby. He understood her absence, but her silence was no longer something he could accept.

  “You’ve got to call me every day,” he’d told her as he tugged on his jeans and rose from her bed that morning.

  “Every day?” she’d said with a laugh. “Come on, Ricky!”

  “Well, if not every day then I’ll settle for at least three days a week.” He’d raised his zipper and turned to look at her. “I’ve got to know that you’re okay . . . that the baby’s okay. I feel like I should be here . . . like that’s my job, but I can’t stay here to protect you without putting you two at risk. It pisses me off but—”

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” she’d said, adjusting the pillows behind her as she leaned against the headboard, absently rubbing her swollen belly through the white bedsheet. “Me and the baby will be fine. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “We’ve been fine so far! No one’s found us out here.”

  “I did.”

  “That’s different, Ricky,” she’d lamented, rolling her eyes. “You—”

  “No, it’s not!” he’d shouted, more out of desperation than anger. He wanted to get through to her how important this was to him. “I came here with a gun and I had plenty of chances to take you out . . . to take all of you out. I held back. The next dude won’t.”

  Her hand had stilled on her belly and her easy smile had disappeared, and he’d immediately regretted saying what he’d said. He didn’t want to make her worry or scare her. A pregnant woman shouldn’t have to deal with these things, but he had to tell her the truth. He had so many doubts and fears. He loved her, despite everything she’d done and what she’d put him through. It would be devastating to lose her so soon after they had reunited. It would be even more devastating to lose their unborn son. He didn’t know if he could survive if something like that happened.

  “Look,” he’d said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I know chances are everything will be fine, but just . . . just keep in touch. Okay? And I mean more than just breathing in the damn phone. Let me know what’s going on so I don’t have to hop in my car and drive down here every week. Save me the gas mileage.”

  She’d laughed and nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay in touch . . . if it makes you feel better.”

  “It does,” he’d said before leaning down to kiss her goodbye, hoping that the kiss would fortify him for the long, lonely drive back home and the days ahead of him until he heard from her again. Because he knew he couldn’t come back, even though he desperately wanted to.

  Now Ricky lived for these phone calls, for their mundane conversations and her reassurances that she and the baby were doing fine. He didn’t realize how dark his life had gotten these past few months until Simone and his son offered him a glimmer of hope about the future. Things didn’t seem quite so bleak anymore.

  “Where are you?” he now asked, shouting over the background noise.

  “I’m at a gas station about ten miles from home. It’s one of the few places that still has a pay phone.”

  “How’s our boy doing? Still giving you trouble?”

  She chuckled. “He woke me up at around four a.m. and would not go to sleep. He kept squirming around. He wasn’t getting comfortable so I wasn’t getting comfortable either, I guess. The doula said he grew another inch. The accommodations are getting pretty tight in there. I can feel it!”

  Ricky closed his eyes, remembering the night he’d slept next to her. He had stayed up for hours, even as she snored, staring silently at her with his hand against her belly. He still held on to the precious memory as if it had cost him a million dollars.

  “Yeah, at thirty-seven weeks they say women have a hard time sleeping. You might start feeling some contractions too,” he continued. “But it’s usually just a false alarm. It’s just your body getting ready for delivery.”

  “What?” She burst into laughter. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “What do you mean how do I know that? I read!”

  “Oh, do you?” she asked, now giggling.

  The truth was that he now kept a copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting in his night table drawer next to her burner phone. He also now had an app on his phone that tracked her weeks and the baby’s development during each gestational stage. But he wasn’t about to tell her any of that. He could keep secrets too.

  “Yeah, I saw it on a web site or TV or somethin’, I think,” he said casually with a shrug.

  “Well, either way, I’m ready for this little guy to come out,” she huffed. “Only three more weeks to go! He’s getting heavy. Sometimes, it’s even hard to breathe! And honestly, I just want to hold him in my arms.”


  Me too, he thought forlornly, but didn’t say it aloud.

  It was one thing to miss the chance to feel his son kick through her stomach. That was bad enough. But it didn’t compare to knowing he may never get the chance to change his son’s diapers or to rock him to sleep. Ricky had accepted that he may only ever get to see the baby in photos and videos for the next year or so. As long as Ricky stayed an informant, as long as he continued to work for Dolla Dolla, going back to Virginia to see his son in person was out of the question. He didn’t want to put him or Simone at risk.

  “I keep marking off the days on my calendar,” she said, oblivious to Ricky’s growing sadness. “But the doula warned me that sometimes first babies come late. I’m hoping that’s not the case. Skylar hopes so too. She can’t wait to meet her nephew.”

  Ricky’s jaw tightened at the mention of Skylar’s name. It infuriated him that he was keeping his distance from Simone for her and the baby’s protection, meanwhile the young woman who had started all this mess and practically had a bull’s-eye painted on her back was sleeping down the hall. Skylar’s bedroom was even next door to the planned nursery.

  “So she’s gonna be there during the delivery?” he asked.

  “Yep! She and Mom are both going to be there.”

  Ricky loudly exhaled as he reached down to pick up his fallen towel. He started to wipe away some of the shaving cream on his face as he sat down on the edge of his bed.

  “What? What’s with the sigh?” she asked.

  He debated about biting his tongue. He had done it during each of their past phone conversations, but today he just didn’t feel like doing it again.

  “Is she still going to be living there after the baby is born?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Simone replied, laughing. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

  “Because it’s not safe. She’s not safe. I told you that Dolla is tracking down all of them, and if he finds her—”

  “He won’t.”

  “Can’t y’all move her to another place? Hell, I’ll give you money to get her an apartment somewhere else. Anywhere else! I don’t care how much—”

  “I can’t desert my sister, Ricky.”

  “Yeah, I know. I know for a fact you won’t desert her,” he replied tersely. “I’m facing twenty years in jail because you wouldn’t leave her behind. Remember?”

  She didn’t respond. Again, he heard the background noise of the roadway. He wondered if she was about to hang up. He wondered if he’d pushed her too far by bringing up the past, by showing the bitterness that, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t relinquish.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I am sorry, Ricky. I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to, but I know I will never be able to make up for what I did to you.”

  “I didn’t say that to put you on some guilt trip,” he began softly, trying his best to sound gentle. “I said it because I need to know that you’re going to put our son first. I accepted that I was second place to Skylar—”

  “Ricky, that’s not tru—”

  “I accepted that shit,” he said, talking over her, pressing forward despite her objections, “but the baby can’t be. If shit goes left . . . if it starts to go bad, will you get him out of there? Are you willing to put him first?”

  “Yes! Yes, without question!”

  He pursed his lips. He wanted to believe her. He desperately hoped he could, but a part of him wasn’t sure.

  Suddenly, his cell phone began to buzz again—his real phone. He picked it up, glanced at the screen, and grumbled at the familiar phone number.

  “Look, I gotta take this call. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to call you again Wednesday . . . probably in the afternoon.”

  “I’ll be waitin’.”

  She chuckled. “I know you will.”

  She then hung up and the line went silent. He took a deep breath and pressed the green button on his phone screen.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  Detective Dominguez answered in his gruff voice, “We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You haven’t been honest with us. I told Ramsey that you’re the type to keep secrets. He’s disappointed that I was right.”

  Ricky’s face went ashen. His heart sank. Had they found out about this trip to Virginia a couple of months ago? Did they know he was back in touch with Simone?

  “T-talk about w-w-what?” he stuttered.

  “Meet us in a half hour at the corner of L and Connecticut Avenue. We’ll be parked there.”

  Ricky glanced at his alarm clock and frowned. “A half hour? It’s eight o’clock in the damn morning and I ain’t even dressed yet.”

  “Then I guess you better throw on some clothes and be out the fuckin’ door soon, right?”

  Ricky didn’t get a chance to reply before Detective Dominguez hung up on him, making Ricky want to throw his phone against the wall.

  Thirty-five minutes later Ricky walked up the curb at Connecticut Avenue and L Street. The spot was only a few steps away from the posh Mayflower Hotel, where an old lady with a barking toy poodle was being escorted out the front door by a bellhop. Ricky strolled to the unmarked police vehicle that waited at the curb. Detectives Dominguez and Ramsey sat in the driver’s and front passenger seats. When they saw him, they threw open a back door.

  “Hop in,” Ramsey called to him.

  He did as Ramsey ordered, sliding onto the back seat and shutting the door behind him. The car pulled off with a lurch.

  “You’re late,” Dominguez barked as he drove. “Parking is a bitch around here. We had to keep circling the block.”

  “So what? You want money for gas?” Ricky replied dryly.

  “Cute,” Dominguez said with a sneer, glaring at him in the rearview mirror. “But I wouldn’t have such a smart mouth if I were you. You’re in big trouble, Ricky.”

  At those words, Ricky’s balls tightened. His belly flopped. He wondered again if they knew he was back in touch with Simone.

  “You should’ve told us,” Ramsey echoed, turning slightly in the passenger seat to face Ricky. His brown face was grave. “We were supposed to have a man on the inside. I don’t like hearing stuff secondhand.”

  Ricky squinted in confusion. “What the hell are y’all talking about? Hearing what secondhand? Just spit it out!”

  “We’re talking about the heavies that have been coming through Dolla’s place for the past couple of weeks. We told you to keep an eye out for some unfamiliar faces. That was the one thing you had to do!” Ramsey charged. “We heard he’s planning somethin’ big—somethin’ real big. But an update like that we wanted to hear from you. We should have heard it from you.”

  “You made us look like assholes to our captain, Ricky,” Dominguez said. “I don’t like that shit!”

  “What else are you not telling us?” Ramsey asked.

  “Look,” Ricky said, holding up his hands, “I don’t know what the fuck y’all are talkin’ about. I haven’t been to Dolla’s place in a couple of weeks, and when I was there, I damn sure didn’t see any ‘heavies’ walking around. This is the first I’ve heard about this.”

  “What do you mean you haven’t been there in a couple of weeks?” Ramsey asked. “It’s your job to observe him. Why haven’t you been up there?”

  “Look, I can’t just roll up at his place whenever the hell I want. I come when he calls me. That’s how it works. That’s how it’s always worked!”

  “We don’t wanna hear that shit! The deal we had is for you to inform us!” Dominguez yelled. “If you can’t do that shit then we don’t need you!”

  “Do you want to go to prison, Ricky?” Ramsey persisted, still glaring at him over the headrest. “Because if you’re going to continue to bullshit us and waste our time, that’s right where we’ll send you.”

  “Look, stop fucking threatening me! I’m risking my life and trying to give you what you want, but I can’t do it if it’s not there.”

/>   “No more excuses!” Dominguez shouted, pounding his fist into the dashboard. “We want to know everything that you see . . . that you hear. We want to know who comes in and out of there. We want to know what they said. If Dolla gets up to take a piss, we want to know that too. It’s been six months! Either you give us the info that we need or the deal is off. Your black ass is going to jail for a long, long time. You hear me?”

  The muscles along Ricky’s jaw rippled as the car drew to a stop.

  “We’ll give you a couple more weeks,” Ramsey said. “That’s it.”

  Ricky didn’t respond. Instead, he just threw open the door and hopped out of the car. At least this time they had left him on a block that looked familiar. But he barely had a chance to shut the door before the Ford Taurus pulled off.

  Chapter 25

  Jamal

  “Look at that view! Just look at it, Jay,” Melissa gushed, pausing from sipping her drink and pointing into the distance.

  Jamal glanced at the riverbank where a few canoers and families in paddle boats were drifting with the current. He shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s the same Potomac River that’s always been there.”

  “Oh, come on!” she lamented playfully with a laugh, looping her free arm through his as they strolled along the sandy pebbled walkway, listening to the crunch of their soles on the gravel as they walked. He felt the soft skin of her bare arm rub against his and goosebumps sprouted on his forearm. “It’s not just the Potomac River, Jay! It’s the breeze . . . the warm weather . . . the sun shining on the—”

  “On the trash drifting to shore? On the ducks pooping in the water?” he dryly finished for her before taking a sip of his drink.

  She threw back her head and groaned. “Seriously, how can you not love D.C. this time of the year? Nothing compares to it!”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He then gently pulled his arm from her grasp and shoved his free hand into his jeans pockets, hoping to keep the tingle he felt all over his body from blossoming into something more, which was usually the case whenever Melissa touched him.