by Shelly Ellis
Since they’d run into each other at the coffee shop in Northwest a couple of weeks ago, they’d hung out quite a few times, meeting for coffee or lunch, talking for hours. He usually talked about work but studiously avoided details like Mayor Johnson’s corruption and Phillip Seymour’s murder. And to her credit, she kept discussions about Derrick to a minimum.
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” she’d told Jamal one afternoon while they both ate pho at a Vietnamese restaurant in Georgetown. “Ain’t got time for that shit! I’ve cried my tears. I’ve listened to I don’t know how many sad love songs. Derrick did his dirt and we’re over. As hard as it is to accept it, I have to move on.” She’d then leaned down and drunk some of her broth. “And whatever you’re holding on to, you need to let go of it, too, homie.”
Easier said than done, he’d thought at the time, watching her as she ate.
Some things would always be hard to let go, no matter how much he wanted to do so: the knowledge that he was complicit in Mayor Johnson’s crimes, the guilt he felt about Phillip’s murder, and the attraction he still had for Melissa, though he tried valiantly to fight it this time around. She had no romantic feelings for him and had made that very plain, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. It didn’t mean they couldn’t find comfort in each other’s companionship. He knew he could certainly use her friendship right now.
“I’m tired of walkin’. Let’s sit over there,” she said abruptly, now pointing to a wooden bench at the edge of the water.
A few seconds later they sat down and stared into the distance, absently drinking frozen coffees they’d bought at one of the food trucks along the National Mall. He watched as she kicked off her sandals and settled her feet into the grass. He tried not to stare at her French-tipped toes, though they were begging to be sucked on.
“So are you finally going to tell me what’s bugging you?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
He lowered his straw from his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said. Are you finally going to tell me what’s up with you? You told me work isn’t going well, but whenever I ask you what you mean by that, you change the subject.”
“No, I don’t.” He paused and frowned, lowering his drink to his lap. “Do I?”
She nodded and laughed. “Yes, you do. All the time!” She sipped from her drink again. “I guess I’m a little suspicious because the last man who told me nothing was going on was having an affair with one of his teachers.”
Jamal chuckled. “I’m not having an affair with anybody.”
“I didn’t think so,” she said, turning completely around to face him. She crossed her legs and rested her elbow on the back of the bench. She gazed into his eyes and he knew instantly that it would be hard to lie to her. “So fess up.”
He shook his head. “It’s better that you don’t know, Lissa.”
“Why? Is somebody gonna take me out? Am I gonna find goons at my door tonight?”
“Maybe,” he whispered, turning away from her and staring at the water, watching as a seagull glided then landed on the river, dunking its head and emerging only seconds later with its prize.
“Are you serious?”
“It could really go bad if someone found out that I told you.”
“Who would find out though? Who the hell would I tell? The ducks?”
He turned to face her again. “I’m serious, Lissa. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s already happened to someone else and I don’t know if I could forgive myself if something happened to you.”
She quieted. Her smile disappeared. “You’re really in some deep shit, aren’t you?”
“I told you . . . I’ve done stuff that I’m not proud of. Johnson isn’t . . . he isn’t the man everyone thinks he is. He’s connected to some shady shit . . . some dangerous folks too. And I’ve been covering for him. I’m not the person everyone thinks I am either. Not anymore.”
“Well . . . and don’t take this the wrong way but . . . if you’re not proud of what you’ve done, why do you keep doing it?”
“Because I’m stuck!” he lamented. “I have to do it! If I walk away, Johnson will come after me. He’ll—”
“How do you know that?”
“He said he would! He told me if I left, he’d make sure I’d regret it.” Jamal grimaced. “The sad part is, Dee warned me.”
“Warned you about what?”
“He told me to walk away from Johnson, to quit my job as deputy mayor long ago, back when I still had the chance. But I didn’t listen. I said I had too much at stake . . . too much to lose.”
She grumbled and turned slightly to face the river again, looking perturbed. “I don’t know if I would take life advice from Dee, Jay. And besides, that’s all in the past. What’s done is done. You can only focus on the present, and right now, as I see it, you have two choices. You can either stay deputy mayor and continue to cover up for this asshole, hating yourself more and more each day. Or you can call his bluff, quit, and leave with your soul intact.”
Calling his bluff . . .
Mayor Johnson had bluffed before. He had lied about the pictures at the brothel to get Jamal to do what he’d wanted. He could very well be lying again.
But he didn’t lie about what was going to happen to Phil, Jamal reminded himself. He’d had him killed just like he said.
The risks were plentiful and the unknowns were numerous. If he walked away from his job . . . from city hall, he had no idea what awaited him on the other side.
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” he repeated, and he would.
“You’ll do the right thing. I have faith in you, Jay,” she said, slapping his knee.
“You do?”
“Of course, I do!” She slid her sandals back on and rose to her feet. She wiped off the seat of her jeans and tossed her drink into a nearby trash can. “We all make bad decisions. We all face hard choices. There aren’t any clear-cut answers. No one’s all good. No one’s all bad. We just . . . we just are, Jay. We’re just trying our best. But you’ve gotta figure out what that ‘best’ is . . . what version of you that you want to be.”
Jamal stared up at her, awestruck by this woman who was simultaneously wise and sexy, beautiful and compassionate. “Dee was out of his fuckin’ mind to lose you, to let you walk away. You’re amazing, you know that?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Come on, let’s get going. You can tell me how amazing I am while we’re walking,” she said with a snort.
He rose to his feet and tossed his drink too, before he strolled with her back down the pebbled path.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you something else, and it has absolutely nothing to do with work or any of that drama,” she began as they continued to walk.
“Go ahead.”
“I have this thing Friday evening. It’s a fund-raiser for education . . . a big black-tie event and our principal wants some of us teachers to attend and I . . . I need a date. I was wondering if maybe you’d go with me,” she said, gnawing her bottom lip.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Miss Stone?”
“Don’t be an ass about it, Jay,” she said, playfully punching his arm. “I just don’t wanna go there alone. Some of those nosy-ass teachers have already asked me when Dee and I are finally going to settle on a wedding date.”
“You still haven’t told them you guys broke up? Haven’t they figured out that you’re not wearing your engagement ring anymore?”
“You’d think so, but no . . . and I don’t know when I’m gonna tell them the truth. I was with the man for forever! But if I come there with some other dude on my arm, they’ll take the hint. Or maybe it’ll distract them.”
“So I’m just a distraction for your coworkers?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“No, you’re not just a distraction! I want you there, Jay,” she said, looping her arm through
his again. This time he didn’t pull away from her. “It includes a free dinner and alcohol. And you get to spend the whole night chillin’ with moi! How could you say no to that?”
The truth was, he couldn’t, even though he knew it wasn’t a real date, even though he knew he was still firmly in the friend zone in her eyes. He exhaled and then nodded.
“Fine, I’ll go.”
“You’ll go. Really?” She grinned and he felt a warmth spread in his chest.
“Yeah, I’ll go. I just gotta clear my busy social calendar first, but it’s all good.”
She laughed before running her fingers through his tight curls. “And you might think about getting a haircut too, homie. You’re getting a bit shaggy up there.”
“What?” he said, running a hand over his head. “I was trying somethin’ different!”
She laughed even harder. “I appreciate the experimentation, but I think it’s time to tell your barber to hook you up.”
* * *
Jamal emerged from the Wilson Building’s elevator and his shoulders sank as soon as his shoes touched the carpet. He wanted to cling to the memory of that weekend, of his conversation with Melissa and how positive and reassured she’d made him feel, but he couldn’t. Her kind words and laughter faded, and all he could hear was the much louder voice in his head telling himself that he was a fraud and a coward.
He strolled off the elevator and headed toward his office.
“Good morning, Sharon,” he said to his assistant as he passed her desk.
She looked up and gave him a polite smile. “Good morning, Mr. Lighty.”
He continued on his path to his office but paused when he heard her shout, “Oh! Oh, sir! I forgot to tell you. Mayor Johnson wanted you to attend an event for him today. It’s scheduled for eleven a.m.”
He turned back around to face her. “What event is it?”
“I forwarded you the email. Gladys sent over the details. They’re holding it at the Press Club. It’s in honor of Phillip Seymour at the Washington Recorder. I think they’re dedicating some award to him and they invited the mayor. He wants you to go in his stead if you’re available. Turns out your morning is open. You can attend, if you want.”
Jamal blinked in astonishment. “What . . . what did you say?”
“I said you can attend it because your morning is op—”
“No, did you just say the mayor wants me to go to a dedication ceremony for an award named after Phillip Seymour?”
She nodded as she gazed up at him. “You remember Phil, don’t you? He was that nice young man from the Recorder. The one who was kill—”
“I know who he is . . . I mean who he was. But . . . but why the hell would Johnson ask me to go to that? What the hell was he . . . he even thinking?” he sputtered.
Mayor Johnson was responsible for Phillip’s murder and he knew that Jamal was aware of that secret. Neither one of them had any business anywhere near that ceremony. Jamal couldn’t shake hands with Phillip’s colleagues and his family. He couldn’t smile for the cameras. It would be like pissing on poor Phillip’s grave. Why would Johnson even suggest this? What kind of sick bastard was he?
Sharon frowned. “Well, I don’t know, sir. I guess it’s because someone from the city should be there and you knew Phil. I . . . I thought you were even friendly with him,” she said, looking more than just a little disconcerted. “I thought you would be happy to support something like this.”
Jamal clenched his fists at his sides. This was too much, way too much.
“I’ve had enough of this shit,” he whispered to himself before charging back across the waiting area to the door.
“Mr. Lighty?” Sharon called after him. “Mr. Lighty, is everything okay?”
Jamal didn’t respond to her question. Instead, he continued on his path down the hall, straight to Mayor Johnson’s office at the end of the corridor.
As soon as he stepped into Johnson’s waiting room, the mayor’s assistant, Gladys, looked up at him.
“He’s in a meeting, Mr. Lighty,” she said, pulling her phone away from her mouth. “Can you come back—”
“No, I cannot,” he said, ignoring her once again as he strode to the mayor’s closed door. He turned the doorknob and shoved the door open, only to find the mayor sitting at his desk facing two elderly women in business suits.
“What the hell are you getting at, asking me to go to that dedication ceremony?” Jamal yelled at him. “Why would you even consider asking me to go? Are you out of your damn mind?”
The two older women’s mouths fell open, aghast.
The congenial expression that had been on the mayor’s face when Jamal entered his office evaporated. He leaned forward in his chair and gestured to him. “Mildred . . . Rosa . . . have you had a chance to meet Jamal Lighty, our deputy mayor of economic development?”
“Uh, n-no,” one of them stammered, turning slightly in her armchair to face Jamal. “It’s a . . . a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lighty.”
“Don’t be put off by his colorful language, ladies,” Mayor Johnson said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet and buttoned his jacket. He walked toward Jamal and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Lighty is actually a very capable deputy mayor. Unfortunately, he accidentally walked into our meeting and—”
“I didn’t accidentally do anything,” Jamal said, shrugging off the mayor’s hand. “I came in here to tell you that I’m not going to Phillip Seymour’s award dedication ceremony, you sick son of a bitch! And I’m disgusted you would even suggest that I go. I’m done with you and your bullshit!” he bellowed as the older women continued to stare at him in shock and the mayor glowered at him with barely contained rage. “I’m done with this. I . . . I . . .” His words drifted off. He knew what he had to say; he just had to say it. Jamal took a deep breath. “I quit. I’m done.”
He then turned and headed out of the mayor’s office, but stopped when he felt a hand clamp around his bicep. He whipped around only to find Johnson glaring up at him.
“Not so fast,” the mayor said in a low, menacing voice before painting on a smile again. The entire time he didn’t release Jamal’s arm. “Would you excuse us, ladies? I need to discuss something with Mr. Lighty. This will only take a few minutes.”
The two women nodded and anxiously glanced between the mayor and Jamal. They rose to their feet and walked toward the door, clutching their purses in front of them.
“Gladys, can you get Mildred and Rosa something to drink? Maybe water or tea?” Mayor Johnson called to his secretary, who promptly answered back with a “Yes, sir.”
When the two women entered the waiting room, Johnson closed his office door behind them. Jamal yanked his arm out of his grasp.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re getting at with that little performance?” Johnson hissed. “What game are you playing?”
“I’m not playing any game. I mean it. I quit!”
Johnson shook his head. “I told you, you can’t quit.” He pointed a stubby finger into Jamal’s chest. “I want to keep you right in front of me so that I can keep an eye on you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to the cops. I’ll still keep your secrets, but I’m not covering for you anymore. I’m not being an accomplice to this!”
“You think it’s that simple? You think you can just hand in your letter of resignation and be on your way?” The mayor let out a caustic laugh. “Nothing is that simple, Jamal. If you follow through with this, you are going to pay for it.”
Another threat, but this time Jamal really would call his bluff. He pushed the mayor’s finger away from his chest. “I’m already paying. I’ve paid too much.”
He then turned, opened the office door, and walked out.
Chapter 26
Ricky
Ricky hesitated briefly, getting into character before knocking on Dolla Dolla’s front door. The door sprung open a few seconds later, and by then his “Pretty Ricky” façade was firmly in place.
/> “What’s up, Mel . . .” he began casually, then stopped and blinked, surprised to not find Melvin standing in the doorway, but someone else—another bald-headed bodyguard with an imposing build and height. Melvin was usually the one who answered the door at Dolla Dolla’s condo. But he hadn’t done it today.
“Why you just standing there? You comin’ in or what?” the guard asked with a chuckle, motioning Ricky forward.
Ricky nodded and stepped over the threshold. He watched as the guard shut the door behind him, then pointed to the adjacent wall so that he could pat him down.
“I was just used to seeing Melvin,” Ricky said as he pressed his hands against the woven wallpaper. He then leaned forward and spread his legs. He didn’t even flinch as the guard’s hands went up and down his thighs, as they slid around his waist. The guard then dropped to his knees and raised the hem of Ricky’s jeans, checking if he had anything tucked into his socks or strapped around his ankles. The pat-downs were just part of the routine now whenever you visited Dolla Dolla. It was as ordinary as the drink or snort of blow he offered whenever Ricky saw him.
“Where Mel at?” Ricky asked.
“He’s busy. Had shit to do for Dolla, I think,” the guard said, rising back to his feet and slapping Ricky on his shoulder. “You’re good. I’ll hold your cell here and give it back to you later.”
Ricky frowned as he turned away from the wall.
If Melvin was “busy,” he wondered exactly what he was doing for Dolla Dolla. Judging from the last time Ricky had gone on an errand with Melvin, he bet the hulking bodyguard wasn’t out picking up milk and a loaf a bread. Had they found another girl? Was Melvin taking her out at this very moment?
Can’t focus on that right now, Ricky thought, as he strolled down the hall and headed to the living room, where he knew Dolla Dolla was likely waiting for him. That wasn’t what he was here for. He was here to finally get the info that the detectives wanted, that they’d been harassing him about for months.