by Ari Reavis
“And nobody where I grew up is gonna do that because we know it’ll only bring more cops to our door,” Stanley adds, then says to Damir, “You already had that one dirty cop on your ass, now you’re gonna have Higgins too after today.”
“It’s nothing new,” Damir murmurs, looking pointedly at Ray. “Cops covering for each other, but no one looking out for the people the cops are harassing.”
Ray puts his hands up, as if he’s innocent in everything that just went down. “All I can do is my job. Which is why I’ll see you on Thursday, Stanley.”
Ray leaves, and Damir gets closer to Stanley. Even I can see that anger still simmering in Stanley’s gaze. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just sick of this shit. Even when I’m doing right, it seems like I get treated like I’m doing wrong. Kinda makes you feel like what’s the point of changing when everyone still treats you the same.”
“Because you’re changing for you, not them. The only way you can really show anyone that you’ve changed is to be consistent.”
If this situation weren’t so tragic, I would smile. To be able to see Damir this way, trying to uplift others, giving them advice that was probably said to him at some point. But the hopelessness in Stanley’s voice, the concern in Damir’s eyes, they make it hard to see the complete beauty of this moment.
“What about all this stuff they were talking about with someone getting arrested who lives with you?” Damir inquires.
“I figure they have to be talking about Xavier. I haven’t seen him for a few days, but I had no idea he’d been arrested. I’ll find out what’s going on when I get home.”
Damir nods. “I’m here Stan. No matter what you need.”
“I know. I know. I’m good though. I’m alright. Seems like the cops were just flexing their muscles with all of this.”
“But still, keep your head down. Be careful.”
“I will,” Stanley agrees, then looks at me. “Sorry, about...all of this.”
I quickly shake my head. “Don’t be. None of this was your fault.”
“Kinda feels like it is.” He sighs. “If I hadn’t done all that dumb shit before, then—”
“No,” Damir cuts him off. “You did your time. Paid for what you did. They don’t get to keep making you pay for it forever. Especially not when you’re turning your life around. This was not your fault. Don’t let them make you believe it was either.”
At the sound of rocks shifting, we all turn around. A group of workers are still there. They must have watched the entire interaction between Stanley and Ray, us and Higgins. It was easy to forget anyone else was there while focusing on the threat in front of us.
“Alright, let me get back to work,” Stanley says. “Thanks though. I did not want to spend my night in a cold ass cell.”
“Of course,” Damir replies.
Then Stanley gives me a tight smile and turns away, joining the other men. They walk to one of the unfinished buildings as Damir comes back over to me.
“I know you have to go...” Damir begins.
But the moment I wrap my hand around his forearm, I’m shaking my head. I can still feel the barely contained rage thrumming through him. His taut muscles, the hard set of his jaw. He’s like a ticking time bomb, and my worry is that some cop will come back here to harass him again, and he’ll detonate.
“Come on.” I urge him towards his trailer.
He follows without resisting. Once we’re inside, he slips out of my hold, walking over to his desk and placing his fists to the wood, head bent forward. There’s silence for a moment as I try to figure out what to say. But that silence is split when he slams his fist down on the desk. The wood on the edge of the desk splinters under his assault. I hurry to text the aid in my classroom that I might be a little late coming back from lunch. I can’t leave. Not now. As I’m putting my phone back in my pocket, Damir begins speaking, low, filled with anger and helplessness.
“I’m such a hypocrite. How can I even tell Stan to just keep his head down when I could be the one bringing trouble to him this time? This was all really about me. I just have no idea what to do about it. Where do you turn for help when the people that are supposed to help you are the ones causing the trouble?”
I don’t have any answers for him, no response for the pain in his voice. And it kills me. He doesn’t deserve this. Stanley doesn’t deserve this. But he’s all too right. He has nowhere to turn. There’s no one to help. He continues without me saying a word anyway.
“I’m always telling them to let things go. To rise above. To walk away from situations and people that are nothing but trouble. Situations like the one we were just in. Where I knew good and well that Higgins’ sole purpose here, even if he’s using Stanley to do it, was to rile me, hoping I would say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, and give him an excuse to throw me back in jail. I tell them this all the time, and yet I was two seconds away from giving him exactly what he wanted. To knocking him on his ass just to see that damn smirk disappear from his face. To show that that badge and gun don’t mean shit when you’re using it to do wrong. If it hadn’t been for you stepping up...” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what the hell would have happened?”
I bite my lip, wondering if I should ask what I want to, if it’s the right time. “What did he mean? About your mother?”
Damir squeezes his eyes shut, as if whatever memory almost cost him more than he could afford to lose a few minutes ago is playing out in front of him again right now.
“It was all horrible, the last time I got arrested. Watching my dad plead with the prosecutor not to charge me as an adult, that I had my whole life ahead of me and trying to reason with him not to take the chance for me to be better away from me. The crushing guilt I could see was weighing my dad down when he told me to take the plea deal they were offering me because it would keep me from going to prison. And the immense worry I could tell he had that I would still be sentenced to juvie. I’ve never seen him appear so helpless before or since as I did when he advised me to sign that deal. I had never felt like I’d disappointed him more.
“But the worst part was when I went for my sentencing. The judge had the option to sentence me to a juvenile detention center until I turned eighteen or give me community service and probation. My mom cried as she begged the judge not to put me in the detention center. The shame I felt watching her do so much for me when I knew I didn’t deserve it fills me even now. The anger over the position I’d put my parents in with my actions. And Higgins bringing it up just makes me remember all of it again. The officers, men wearing the same uniform as he was, in the back of the courtroom watching her, snickering to each other over my mom’s tears, promising me that it was far from over as I left the courtroom.”
He looks into my eyes now, a resolve there. “I made my mom a promise, that day, as soon as we left the courthouse, that I would never be behind bars again. And I almost lost control and did something that would have broken that promise today.”
“I for one can understand why you’d want to permanently imprint your fist into Higgins’ chest for trying to throw that moment in your face,” I say while shaking my head. “There has to be something we can do. Even if it is getting a lawyer like you threatened to.”
“But where would that get me? Even if a judge somehow believed me and Higgins got suspended, or somehow in hell, even fired, it won’t end with Higgins. There’s still Miller and a shitload of others cops ready to step into his shoes, to come to this site or my other ones, to my apartment, trying to stir shit up.”
He releases a breath as he sits down, and it’s filled with knowing there’s no end to this. His next words only prove that’s what he’s feeling to me.
“The doubt in my own words is deeper than ever. How can I tell Stan, or Carlos, to change, to do better, when I’ve changed, proved I’m on the right track for years and years, and yet, I’m still dealing with the sins of my past? Still reaping the consequences of what I sowed so long ago
. I told them they don’t need anyone to believe they’ve changed, don’t need the police to believe they’ve changed. But I’m seeing more and more just how wrong I am in saying that. Because I’ve changed, I know they can see it, and I’m getting damn tired of them treating me like I haven’t.”
I walk over and stand between him and the desk. His arms go around my waist and his forehead comes to my stomach. I cradle him against me, giving what little comfort I can.
“I see you trying,” I say low. “Your parents see it. Your workers see it. The ones who know you and matter see it. Don’t doubt yourself, Damir. It’s what they want. Don’t give that to them. Don’t become what they want you to; bitter, anger, consumed with thoughts of them. They aren’t worth you losing yourself.”
I feel his shoulders fall at my words, losing some of their tension. “Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?” I ask as I put my hand under his chin, raising his face.
“For what you said to Higgins out there. For saving me from myself, even if you didn’t know you were. For staying right now.”
I smile down at him. “I’m always here for you. No matter what. That’s what love is, right?”
He smiles back at me, and I savor that smile. I know it can’t be easy to give me one right now.
“Right,” he agrees.
I stay until I get another text from the aide, asking when I’ll be able to get back to the school. Only once I’m back in my car do I let my own worries wash over me. Because although no one who witnessed what just happened at the site would think it was the end of things between Damir and the police, I feel even more that it’s the beginning of something else. Another level of harassment. Another level of them showing exactly how far they’re willing to go to get to Damir. Another level of proving the lengths they’re willing to go to. And it scares me more than I want Damir to know. More than I want to even admit to myself. Because then I have to ask myself... What’s next?
Chapter 12
“By next week you might actually be able to start cooking in your own house,” I tell Liam, slapping a hand to his back.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” he returns. “I’d barely been able to sleep in the house comfortably before you started fixing it up. Now I can even take a shower here.”
“I work what magic I can.” I grin.
“I appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem. I enjoy fixer-uppers the most. Seeing something change day by day.”
“I always knew it had potential, but seeing it start to actually look like...a house is something else. Now I just need you to let me pay for it.”
I shake my head. “No can do. I figure I should grease your palm now while I can.”
He laughs. “And just what the hell are you greasing my palms for?”
“The future,” I state.
He looks over at me, his eyes assessing for a moment before he smiles and nods. “Good to know.”
We walk over to our cars, one parked in front of the other.
“What are you going to do now?” he asks.
“Take your sister out on a date,” I tell him. “You?”
“Nothing much. Hanging around here.”
“Not going out? Mariah was telling me you have a girlfriend.”
Sadness enters his eyes. “Not going out this weekend.”
Not wanting to press the subject, I just nod. “I’ll call and let you know what time I’ll be here tomorrow to work on the kitchen. Usually my guy, Stanley, works on the kitchens, but I haven’t been able to reach him for a few days. If I can’t get in touch with him tonight, I’ll do it myself tomorrow.”
“It’s cool. I’m sleeping under a roof that’s not leaking, so I’m good.” He chuckles.
“Okay. See you soon.”
He nods. “Give my little sis a good night.” He pauses. “That sounded disgusting. Just... Have a good night.”
I grin and get in the car. Even though the knowledge that I’m going home to get ready for a night out with Mariah should have me excited like it usually does, concern fills me instead. I’ve been trying to get in contact with Stanley for three days now. Even when he was late at the old site, he never missed a day of work, so him not showing up on Monday was the first red flag, quickly followed by the fact that he hadn’t picked up any of my calls or responded to any of my texts since then. I’d even gone into his paperwork and gotten his sister’s phone number and called her to check on him, but she hadn’t answered her phone or returned my call.
Carlos hadn’t seen or heard from him either. And on top of that was that I knew Stanley had his meeting with his probation officer tomorrow. What if he missed that too? And what the hell was going on that he couldn’t come to work or pick up my calls? It had crossed my mind that maybe everything that had happened with Higgins last week had made him weary of working for me, but I know that isn’t the case. And even if it were, he would have let me know instead of disappearing without a word like this.
If he doesn’t come to work or get in touch with me by tomorrow, I plan to just go to his sister’s house, find out what’s going on. Because something about all of this leaves what feels like a ten pound weight in my stomach. Something feels off... wrong. I don’t think he’s gone back to selling drugs, don’t think he’s decided to simply throw away all he’s done to turn over a new leaf. So what is it? Is he hurt, in danger, sick? I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.
I reach my apartment and go inside, taking a quick shower before throwing on some dark jeans and a dark gray long-sleeve shirt and black jacket. Once I’m back in my car, I head to pick up Mariah. The moment she opens the door and smiles at me, all my worries fade to the back of my mind. I find myself wondering if there will ever come a day when the first time I lay eyes on this woman doesn’t knock me off kilter for a moment. I know there won’t.
“Beautiful as always,” I say before kissing her.
When I pull away, her smile has grown.
“Thank you, handsome. Ready to eat? I’m starving.”
“Well come on then.”
I put my hand on her lower back, getting the shiver I savor from her, as we walk to the car. Leaning back a little, I watch her ass move under her dress. Lord, I can’t wait to see her without this dress on later.
“I get the feeling you’re checking out my ass, my love.” She smirks at me over her shoulder.
“I definitely am, and thinking about when I get my hands on it later,” I admit.
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to wait too long.” She grins.
We’re driving for no more than five minutes when red and blue lights begin flashing through the back window, followed by a siren a few seconds later.
“This fucking asshole,” I hiss as I pull over.
Mariah reaches across the armrest and links our hands. “It’s okay. Nothing is going to ruin this night.”
I give her hand a squeeze before I release it to get my papers from the glove compartment. And of course, fucking Miller walks up to the side of my car, but it’s when I notice two other police cruisers in my rearview mirror that something inside tells me this isn’t the normal interaction I’ve been having with Miller. And then another officer comes around to Mariah’s side, gun drawn, and I know this is entirely something else. Miller wouldn’t have witnesses to his fake stops. This is different, something much more serious, and dread pools in my stomach. Instead of rolling the window down, I look at Mariah out the corner of my eye.
“Whatever happens, you stay safe,” I tell her.
“What?”
“Whatever happens next, just do as they say. Please Mariah. I can’t have something happen to you.”
“Damir, what the hell is going on?”
“Something is about to go down, and I don’t know what but—”
I’m cut off by a hard knock on the window.
“But let it happen. And stay safe Mariah. Please.”
The knock comes again, harder this time, accompanied
with Miller demanding I step out of the car, slowly.
“Damir,” Mariah croaks.
“I love you.”
I get out of the car, putting my hands up the moment they leave the handle, my hip pushing the door open while I rise. As soon as I fully stand, Miller wrenches my hands behind my back and slams me into the side of the car, my ribs knocking against it painfully as he puts cuffs on my wrists.
“Damir Lewis,” he growls near my ear, his rancid breath disgusting me. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Stanley Phillips.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I start to turn my head, but he slams me against the car again.
He can’t be correct. Stanley isn’t dead. He can’t be. He just can’t be. Right? What the hell is going on? But the more I tell myself he can’t be right, the more I can feel in my bones that he is. Stanley not showing up for work. Not answering my calls. Carlos not seeing him around. It fits. Devastation, despair, anger, they all slam into me at the same time. Stanley’s dead. He had his whole life in front of him, and now it’s gone. He’s gone, and apparently they think I killed him.
“What the fuck happened to him?” I shout as I struggle against Miller’s hold and the too tight cuffs that are already cutting into my skin. “What happened to Stan?”
“Save that act for the judge. Not that it’ll help you now,” he whispers in my ear. And I can hear the mirth in his voice, the joy he’s taking in this.
“You fucking asshole.” I throw my head back, trying to headbutt his nose. Because what the fuck do I have to lose right now? I’m being arrested for murdering someone. For murdering Stanley. These cuffs being on me means something, somewhere along the line, convinced a judge that there was enough evidence to issue a warrant for my arrest. I’m fucked. Might as well get my hits in while I can.
But the bastard must move his head in time because my head doesn’t connect, and my attempt earns me getting my head slammed into the car hard enough to make me see spots behind my closed lids. And a baton to my side. I groan as another voice begins reading me my rights.
