A Little Bit of Karma

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

“Where can we find this Vincent?” I said.

  Keri cut her eyes at me. “If I tell you, will you get out of here and leave me alone?”

  “Yes,” I said, as Jay nodded.

  She sighed. “He’s always hanging out at Carrington’s Pool Hall over on 133rd. You’ll know him because he’s the undefeated pool champion there; his picture is hanging on the wall. Just do not tell him I told you where to find him. He can get crazy and I don’t need the drama.”

  “Thank you, Keri. You’re a lifesaver,” Jay said.

  She walked over to the door. “Whatever. Just get out of my grandmother’s room and don’t ever come back here.” She moved over to the bed and gently brushed her grandmother’s hair. Whatever scandalous things Keri had done, there was no denying her love for her grandmother.

  “Go!” Keri snapped when we didn’t move.

  I headed toward the door. That was one request I would happily oblige.

  thirty-two

  It wasn’t hard to spot Vincent Murray. If the photo below the “Pool Champion” title hadn’t been enough, his loud, boisterous behavior would have been sure to draw everyone’s attention his way.

  “Vincent Murray?” Jay asked, tapping the man on the shoulder.

  Vincent stopped in the middle of a hearty laugh and spun around on his barstool. There was nothing remotely attractive about this man. He had a rugged, unkempt look and his matted Afro looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. The smile left his face as he looked Jay up and down. “Who wants to know?”

  “Look, I’m not the police or anything,” Jay said.

  “I’ll ask again, who wants to know?”

  “Can we talk?” Jay looked around at all the people staring at him. “Privately?”

  “Dude, I don’t know you like that.”

  I stepped in. “I think you do.”

  One of the goons standing in the back of the pool hall spoke up. “Yo, my girl listens to y’all.” He turned to Vincent. “This is that cat that was messing with Vonda. The radio dude.”

  Vincent’s eyes lit up in recognition. “What happened to Vonda?” He directed his question to Jay. “She’s a lot of things but she ain’t suicidal, and word on the street is that she took her own life.”

  “She didn’t kill herself,” Jay said. “And I didn’t kill her.”

  Vincent studied us for a minute, then said, “Follow me.” He led us to the back of the pool hall. Four of the goons followed us.

  Obviously, Vincent was over his grief, because he spun around and said, “If Vonda tried to play with the big dogs and got burned, that’s not my problem.”

  Jay didn’t address his comment. He got straight to the point. “Look, we know you are now the one behind the blackmailing of Senator Bell. And we believe that you sent the information to the newspaper.”

  Vincent turned his nose up. “You don’t know a damn thing,” he said casually.

  Jay held his hand up in defense. “Honestly, we don’t really care. We just don’t want the senator thinking we’re the ones behind it.”

  Vincent strode over to a chair and sat down. He leaned back, folded his arms behind his head, and said, “What does that have to do with me?”

  “We were just hoping that you would, um, you know, go to the police with what you know.”

  Even as the words left Jay’s mouth, I could tell we had a better chance of getting Donald Trump to apologize to Barack Obama for birtherism than we did of getting this man to help.

  All five of the men burst into laughter. “You must be on drugs,” Vincent said.

  “At this point, the senator isn’t going to believe anything we say, so maybe you can tell him we’re not involved,” Jay said. I was quivering next to him, too afraid to speak.

  “And why, Mr. Superstar, would I do that?” Vincent asked, the laughter dying down.

  “Look,” Jay began.

  “No, you look, playboy,” Vincent said, his tone firm as he sat back up. “I don’t know you from a hole in the wall, so I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about you. All I know is you were screwing my girl. But Vonda had a way of trying to piss me off, and since chicks come and go, I ain’t sweating that. But you can rest easy—the senator knows who he’s dealing with.”

  “So he knows it’s you?” Jay asked. That possibility had never even crossed our minds.

  “You said it yourself: this here is major.” Vincent sighed. “Look, let me enlighten you. This ain’t about you. This is between the big dogs now. That little nugget I dropped to the D.C. Dispatch has him ready to do whatever I say.”

  “So he knows you’re behind the article?” I repeated, stunned that he was so forthcoming with information. But Vincent seemed to be the bragging type, so I guess he was taking pleasure in revealing that he was calling the shots.

  Vincent continued. “He knows I wasn’t playing around, and he knows there’s more where that came from.” He stopped and exhaled like he was trying to decide how much to reveal. “And since he doesn’t want my next package to be to the New York Times, he’s ready to play ball.”

  I exhaled in relief. If Senator Bell knew Vincent was behind the article, did that mean we were out of danger?

  “Come on, Vincent, you seem like a man who can’t be conned,” Jay said.

  “Damn, skippy,” Vincent replied. “I do the conning.” He smiled, and I wondered what in the world my husband was doing. I wanted to grab Jay’s hand and tell him, Let’s go and let the big dogs work this out.

  “Do you really think Senator Bradley Bell is the type of man who’s going to let anyone blackmail him and get away with it?” Jay asked.

  That must’ve hit a nerve with Vincent, because the smile left his face and Jay seized the moment.

  “I mean, he’s probably planning to meet up with you somewhere to pay you off, and before you can turn the corner good, he’ll have someone put a bullet in your back.”

  Vincent shifted uneasily. “I know what I’m doing,” he said, his voice losing some of its edge. “This ain’t my first time at the rodeo.”

  “Yeah, but how many other powerful politicians have you blackmailed?” Jay said.

  Vincent was cocky, but he was definitely small-time compared to a crooked United States senator. He had no idea the type of people he was dealing with.

  “Even if you do know what you’re doing,” Jay added, “even if he lets you walk away today, he’s not going to rest until he deals with you. People in power are like that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Vincent asked, like we were really getting on his nerves.

  Jay shrugged. “I’m just saying….”

  Vincent huffed like he’d had enough. “You know what? You,” he said, looking at Jay, “and you,” he said, pointing at me, “need to bounce before I show you how gangsta I can be.”

  I had an eerie feeling that Vincent Murray had just signed his death warrant and I wanted no part of it.

  “You’re absolutely right, Mr. Murray. You got this.” I grabbed Jay’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “We’re bouncing.”

  thirty-three

  I couldn’t believe we were back on the air with all the drama going on in our lives. I’d been adamant that we tell Riley we couldn’t come back just yet, but Jay had convinced me that it was for the best that we remain in the public eye. Our names had been cleared, and now that the senator knew we weren’t behind the article, I assumed we were out of danger.

  Even though Jay had been planning to leave, after the visit with Vincent, he insisted on staying with me a couple of days, just to make sure. He was worried that the senator might get antsy and decide he needed to get rid of everyone who knew anything.

  “We need to go back to work because the senator will be less likely to cause trouble if we stay in the public eye,” Jay had told me last night.

  So after the show today, we were doing an interview with a few local stations, then shooting interviews for CNN, MSNBC, and Fox.

  While in no way did I like being in da
nger, I loved how protective Jay was being.

  “Are you guys ready to do this?” Nicole said, gently patting my hand.

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” I mumbled. We’d agreed that we would just talk about our ordeal for a few minutes, then ease back into our normal routine.

  I hadn’t been able to get Vincent out of my mind. How did he really expect all of this to play out? Was he meeting with the senator now? He was a fool if he thought he could just blackmail the senator, then go about his business. I brushed away thoughts of Vincent Murray. He was making his bed, so whatever happened was his problem.

  “Relax, babe,” Jay said, reaching over and touching my arm. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand away. “Habit.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the loving way he touched me. It made me nostalgic, but I quickly reminded myself not to read anything into it.

  “We’re going to be fine,” he added.

  The show’s opening music began, and Nicole gave Jay the cue to start.

  “Helloooo, lovely listeners, this is Jay and Dr. Shannon Lovejoy, back on the air and coming to you in real time,” he began.

  I took a deep breath and leaned into the microphone. “And we are so happy to be back with you, live. Thank you so much for bearing with us through our hiatus and as we ran our best-of-the-Lovejoys shows.”

  “And unless you’ve been under a rock”—Jay chuckled—“you know that our Lovejoy retreat turned into something out of the movies for us.”

  From there, Jay and I took turns recapping our ordeal. We did leave out the why behind our kidnapping, blaming it on the wrong place at the wrong time. Jay was careful and glossed over his relationship with Vonda, simply saying she had begun stalking him, and for that, I was appreciative. We had decided we wouldn’t announce the divorce until later, and the last thing I wanted was sympathy calls from people.

  After we finished our spiel, the phone lines lit up with people offering their best wishes and prayers, and even a few people digging for gossip. One caller even told us, “I know there’s more to this story.”

  Jay laughed and politely told her, “We’ve shared what’s important.”

  But it was the last caller who changed the entire upbeat mood.

  “Hi, Jay and Dr. Shannon,” the woman began. “I’ve been listening to your story, and like everyone else, I’m just so thankful that you guys made it through. You two saved my marriage with your advice and words of wisdom. I’ve been reading some of the stuff in the papers and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. I don’t really care. I just wanted to tell you both that you have a gift and something like this can break even the strongest foundation. But the fact that you two made it through speaks volumes. I just want you to know I’m praying that this ordeal happened for a reason. I know that may sound crazy, but sometimes when things are broken, God has an uncanny way of fixing them.”

  Jay couldn’t help but smile. “I think I’ve heard that before.”

  The woman chuckled. “You have. That’s exactly what you told me when I called in a year ago.”

  I instantly remembered this caller. She had been a reprieve from our typically distressed callers. Her spirit had been so warm. Both she and her husband had called in together. She’d had an affair because she’d thought he was having one. She’d later found out that he wasn’t, but by then it was too late—the damage had been done, and her husband had been devastated.

  “Well, I’m glad my words could help you,” Jay said.

  “Oh, they did more than help,” the woman replied. “We are now better off than we ever were because you and Dr. Shannon convinced us that our love was worth fighting for. That’s a magical gift you have. And sometimes we’re so busy using our gifts to help others, we don’t use them for ourselves.”

  The studio was quiet as both Jay and I stared at each other. The woman must’ve known her words were impactful, because she said, “Just think about what I’m saying. Think about what you said to me: everything happens for a reason. I’m keeping you both in my prayers.”

  She didn’t say another word and hung up. Jay and I remained silent until we heard Nicole yelling in our headsets, “Wrap! Wrap! We’re going over!”

  Jay jumped, apologized for the silence, then gave our standard goodbye. I jumped in on my cue, thanking the listeners for tuning in.

  Once we were off the air, neither of us said a word as we gathered our things to leave.

  thirty-four

  This was the way things should be—me relaxing on the sofa with a novel, and Jay in the kitchen, whipping up his specialty, shrimp spaghetti, for lunch. I wished we could stay like this forever. The only thing that would make this scene complete would be a little Jay running around.

  That thought made me lose my smile. That thought was the reason why this whole scene was simply a mirage, because it was just a matter of time before Jay would be gone for good, because my desire for a little Jay had destroyed my relationship with my big Jay.

  We had gone to work in separate cars, so we’d left the radio station without saying anything about that last caller. Then, we were so busy with interviews all day, so by the time we got home, neither of us addressed it, instead falling into this natural rhythm.

  I turned my attention back to my novel. It was a new one, called Sister Surrogate, about a woman who was desperate to have a child. I had been enjoying the book, but when I thought about my current situation, I decided now maybe wasn’t the time to dive into that subject matter, so I moved it to my to-be-read file and stood to go see if Jay needed help.

  The television was on mute when I noticed a picture of Senator Bell. I picked up the remote and turned the volume up.

  I watched for a few seconds, then called for Jay.

  “Jay, come here. Hurry!”

  “What’s wrong?” he said, racing into the living room.

  “Look.” I pointed to the TV. Once again, a breaking-news banner was flashing across the screen.

  “This just in,” the anchor began. “United States Senator Bradley Bell has been taken into custody in connection with the death of Vincent Murray, a local resident with an extensive criminal record who was found dead last night.”

  “Dead?” Jay said, his mouth dropping open. “Vincent is dead?”

  “Shhhh,” I said.

  “Reporter Stephanie Jameson is in the field with the latest.” The anchor tossed to a reporter in the field. “Stephanie, why would police think the senator is connected to the death of Murray? And does this have anything to do with the allegations that surfaced yesterday morning about the senator and land deals in New Orleans?”

  “Rick, this story is unfolding by the minute,” Stephanie began, her voice urgent, like she was on the cusp of a major story.

  If only you knew, I thought.

  “In fact, we are in front of the police department, where authorities are expected to bring the senator in any minute. Apparently, Murray was trying to blackmail the senator over those reported land deals in New Orleans. But just moments ago,” the woman said, “we were handed this envelope.” She held up a manila envelope. “Inside was a zip drive containing video of the entire transaction in which Murray allegedly met the senator to collect his blackmail money. A private investigator working a totally unrelated case for a woman trying to catch her cheating husband captured this video.”

  My mouth fell open as I watched Senator Bell and Sammy, his bodyguard, approach Vincent in the back of what looked like an apartment building. There was no sound, but the image was clear as day. Vincent stood face-to-face with the senator. Sammy walked over with a duffel bag, and handed it to Vincent, who opened it up and looked inside. The private investigator must have known something illicit was going on, because he zoomed in to get a shot of what appeared to be wads of money in the duffel bag. A huge smile crossed Vincent’s face as he closed the bag, reached in his pocket, pulled out something, and handed it to the senator.

  “I bet he’s giving him a copy of the jump drive,”
I said. “And here we thought we had the only copies.”

  The video jumped to a gray Nissan Sentra and the reporter continued talking. “The private investigator followed Murray, who got into this car a few blocks over. That car was being driven by an unidentified woman.”

  Both Jay and I gasped as the video zoomed in to a side view of Keri.

  “Police say another vehicle registered to the senator’s office followed Murray back to his apartment. A few minutes later, a neighbor found Murray dead with a gunshot wound to the head.”

  “Where is the young lady who was driving the car?” the anchor asked.

  Stephanie shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question, Rick. She has disappeared, along with the money. Police don’t believe she’s behind the shooting of Vincent Murray, because a witness saw her drop Murray off, then leave. But again, they are searching for the woman to question her about last night’s events. They’re asking anyone with any information to give them a call. In the meantime, police say they believe they are on the cusp of an even larger investigation. Of course we’ll keep you updated.” She tossed back to the anchors in the studio, who began banter about the story.

  Jay picked up the remote and flipped the television off.

  “I don’t know what to be more shocked about, the fact that the senator has been arrested or the fact that Keri was working with Vincent all along,” I said.

  “Why would she even tell us about him, though?” Jay asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe she planned to take all the money all along and she knew that if she led us to Vincent, we’d be able to confirm that he was the blackmailer and tell the police.

  “And when the dust cleared, the police would think only Vincent and the senator were involved,” I finished. “And though we could tell them about Keri, by that point she would be long gone with the money.”

  I had to hand it to the girl—I would’ve never given her credit for being so conniving.

  “Well, if the senator is behind bars, at least this means we’re safe. Even if he gets out, which I suspect he will, he knows we’re not involved,” Jay said.