After Hours

by Rochelle Alers

  CHAPTER 9

  The BlackBerry chimed and Adina reached for it next to her head on the pillow. A light sleeper, she’d put the phone in the bed with her because she was still waiting to hear from Karla King.

  It’d been two weeks since she’d gone to Trenton. She suspected the lawyer had found the bag she’d left in her office; she’d expected her to call, but when she hadn’t, Adina had shifted into panic mode. Her anxiety meter reached a dangerous level until she forced herself to relax, release and let go.

  After she calmed down enough to think rationally, she decided to give the lawyer another week. And if Mrs. King hadn’t followed through on her promise to help her change her name, then she would be awash in controversy when she put the prissy attorney on the spot.

  Adina planned to ask Karla about the bag, which she’d inadvertently left in her office. But if Karla denied seeing it, then she would play her trump card. The parking lot, the reception area, the hallways and Mrs. King’s office were all installed with closed-circuit cameras, and that meant the entire building was wired. She may not get her money back, but she didn’t think Karla King, Esquire, would want her good name smeared in an alleged scheme to defraud a client.

  Mrs. King—or whoever had discovered the bag with the money—would be hard-pressed to disavow knowledge of the item in question if camera footage showed otherwise. Adina didn’t want to dime-out the sister-girl lawyer, but if she had to, she would, because it all came down to survival. And she hadn’t survived ten years of hustling because she was a nice girl.

  Peering at the lighted display, she recognized her grandmother’s number. Now wide-awake, she answered the call. “What’s up, Mama?”

  “That’s what I was ’bout to ask yo ass.”

  Leaning over, Adina flicked on the lamp on the bedside table. The glowing numbers on the clock read 3:20 a.m. “You called me, Mama.”

  “Whatcha doin’ hangin’ around wit PJ?”

  A lump formed in Adina’s throat, making it almost impossible for her to swallow. “I’m not hanging around with him,” she lied smoothly.

  “If that’s not the case, then why did he come by fo’ day in the mornin’ and bust up my place? He broke up the walls, coffee table and TV. My pressure’s so high that I cain’t breathe. I hope I ain’t havin’ a stroke.”

  Adina clapped her free hand over her mouth to stop the screams welling up in the back of her throat. The tears filling her eyes were real, not forced like the ones she’d shed for Karla and the motel manager.

  “Mama, talk to me. Mama!” she screamed when encountering silence.

  “I’m still here, grandbaby.”

  A shiver of fear—stark, vivid and very real—swept over Adina. She’d always managed not to involve her family in her work, but that had changed because Payne had confronted her grandmother. Before she’d agreed to work for him she’d extracted a promise from him that he’d never let anyone know of their association.

  “What did he say, Mama?”

  “He says you got two weeks to get back in touch with him or else he’s coming back to break mo’ than glass.” Dora recited the number PJ had written on a business card.

  Adina gripped the cell phone tight enough to leave a distinct impression on her palm, wishing it was Payne’s scrawny neck. She picked up a pen next to the lamp and wrote down the telephone number. He’d given her grandmother a number with a DC area code.

  “Where’s Jameeka?”

  “She ain’t here. She at a sleepover.”

  Adina let out a deep sigh of relief. Even though she’d given birth to Jameeka, she’d never thought of herself as her mother. Maybe it was because Bernice had claimed the baby as hers; once Bernice disappeared, Dora assumed full responsibility for raising her great-granddaughter.

  “Why that trifling bum-bitch lookin’ fo’ you?” Dora asked, her voice louder, stronger.

  “A couple of weeks ago he asked me to put a dollar on a number for him. It came out and I forgot to give him the money.”

  The lie was so good that Adina believed it herself. There was no way she was going to tell her grandmother about her decade-long association with Payne Jefferson, that she set up men for him to rob, that he was the mastermind behind robberies, burglaries and other unsolved crimes in Brooklyn too numerous to mention.

  “How much do you owe him?”

  “About five hundred dollars.”

  “Do you have his money, Adina Jenkins?”

  “Yeah, I do. But I just have to get it to him.”

  “When you gonna do that?”

  “When I see him.”

  “You gonna call him?”

  “Yes, Mama. I’ll call him later on today.”

  “I hope you ain’t lyin’ to me.”

  “No, Mama. I will call him.”

  “When am I gonna see you, grandbaby?”

  Adina closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lower lip. How could she tell her grandmother that she would never come back to Brooklyn because there were people out to kill her?

  “I don’t know. I’m going to send you some money orders so that you can pay someone to fix up the place. I’ll include enough for you to buy another television.”

  “I ain’t got to have no big-screen TV. The one in my bedroom will do fine.”

  “But you loved that TV, Mama.”

  “Because it was big and new. Save yo’ money, baby. I’ve been thinkin’…” Dora said after a swollen pause.

  “What about?”

  “Moving. The projects ain’t no place to raise Jameeka.”

  “You want to move?”

  “Been thinkin’ on it.”

  “Where do you want to live?”

  “No mo’ public housing. I don’t want Jameeka windin’ up like me and yo mama. I want her to go to college and make somethin’ of herself. I ain’t sayin’ you didn’t finish high school, but I always wanted you to go to college because you is smart as a whip.”

  A hint of a smile softened Adina’s lush mouth. Her grandmother had dropped out of school to give birth to Bernice, and Bernice had dropped out to have her. She’d dropped out because she’d begun hanging out at night and couldn’t get up in the morning to make it to school on time. Yet at twenty she’d made herself a promise to get her GED before her twenty-first birthday, and she had. It wasn’t until she’d enrolled in the course to prepare her to take the exam that she’d realized she could retain most of what she’d learned, acing the test on her first attempt.

  “Maybe we can move someplace nice if I get a job paying taxes.” Dora believed she had a position working off the books totaling daily receipts for a businessman who owned family-style restaurants in Bay Ridge, Bensonhurst and Sunset Park.

  “Fo’ real?”

  Adina smiled for the first time since answering the call. “For real, Mama,” she said truthfully; there was no way she could continue hustling.

  In fact, she’d played the game longer than planned. When Payne first approached her with his scheme, she’d told him she would do it for a year. One year became two, three and eventually ten. Working the streets was not only dangerous but short-lived, with options limited to incarceration or a coffin.

  “I’ll call PJ,” she promised. “Remember to keep your door locked.” Many project tenants left their doors unlocked during the day because they didn’t want to keep getting up to let in their children. “I want you to call the police if PJ comes back.”

  “Ain’t you gonna call him?”

  “Yes. I said that in case he decides to start more shit.”

  “When are you comin’ back?” Dora asked again.

  “I don’t know. I’m working on something right now, and as soon I finish up here I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay, grandbaby.”

  “Look for the money orders in a couple of days.”

  “Thank you, baby.”

  “I love you, Mama.”

  There came a beat. “Love you back.”

  Depressing a button, Adina
ended the call and stared at the fading wallpaper in the room that suddenly felt like a tomb.

  Fleeing Brooklyn may have saved her life, but it’d put her grandmother’s at risk.

  Her world and everything in it was spinning out of control.

  CHAPTER 10

  Seventy-two hours after Payne had trashed her grandmother’s apartment Adina called him. Punching in the numbers on the disposable cell phone, she waited for a break in the connection. She hadn’t wanted to use her cell phone because she didn’t want him to track her. Payne Jefferson may have lived in the projects, but his criminal network stretched far beyond its boundaries.

  “Speak.” The single word was a whisper.

  Her eyebrows lifted when hearing the unorthodox greeting. “You wanted me to call you.”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Isn’t that why you gave me your number?” Adina countered.

  “Bitch, you know I don’t like phones.”

  A wave of fire burned its way into her face. “Call me a bitch again and I’m going to hang up.” She still hadn’t heard from Karla King and her mood swings vacillated from hope to rage, and when she’d gotten up earlier that morning it was to a haze of rage—that had made it difficult for her to draw a normal breath.

  “You hang up on me and I’ll do more than fuck up your grandmother’s place.”

  “Fuck with my grandmother and I swear I’ll dime your ass out.” She hadn’t lied to Payne. Fear and concern for Dora made her reckless and vindictive enough to give Payne up to the police, but only if she’d be able to cut a deal.

  Payne laughed softly. “You know what they say about snitches.”

  “Yeah, I know. Snitches get stitches,” Adina drawled recklessly. “I ain’t scared of you, Payne.”

  “I know you ain’t, because you know too much about my business. We need a face-to-face. I want you to meet me in Jersey.” His tone had softened considerably.

  Her heart leaped in her chest. Did he know where she was? Had someone seen her and reported back to him? “When and where in New Jersey?” she asked, praying it wasn’t Atlantic City.

  “Sunday. Twelve noon. Meet me near the grandstand at the Old Bridge Township Raceway in Englishtown. Do you know how to get there by yourself?”

  “I’ll find it.” She had gone there once with one of her marks to attend a car show.

  Those were the last words she said, because Payne hung up on her. She didn’t know why he wanted to see her but knew that if she didn’t meet him, he would have his people hurt or kill her grandmother.

  Adina understood Payne Jefferson better than anyone in the projects, with the possible exception of his mother. At thirty-seven, he stood five-three and weighed about one-twenty, and as a boy he’d been taunted relentlessly by the neighborhood children, who’d called him Tiny, Pee-Wee, Spud and Half-Pint. The taunting stopped after he’d hit a much larger boy with a baseball bat, opening his head like an overripe melon.

  Although sixteen, he was tried as an adult and sentenced to five years in a minimum-security prison. After he was paroled, he came back to the projects, went into semi-seclusion and devised a master plan to exact revenge on every criminal who reminded him of the inmates who’d abused and shamed him to assuage their sexual perversions.

  Although Adina had heard the rumors about Payne’s celebrated temper, she’d found herself drawn to him because he was an older man. He liked her because, at five-two and one hundred three pounds, she complemented him physically. They were never seen together publicly because he always arranged for them to meet outside their Brooklyn neighborhood. Their relationship was advantageous to both because Payne got what he wanted and she got what she wanted without having to sleep with him.

  She’d agreed to meet him at the raceway because it was a public place. There wasn’t much he could do to her in front of hundreds of witnesses.

  CHAPTER 11

  Adina arrived at the Old Bridge Township Raceway forty-five minutes before she was scheduled to meet Payne. She ignored the curious and admiring stares from men as she made her way to the grandstand area.

  It was mid-May, early-morning temperatures were already in the seventies and it’d taken hours for her to travel from Irvington to Englishtown on public transportation. If she’d continued to work for Payne, she wouldn’t have hesitated to hire a driver. But the reality was that she wasn’t working and she’d given away almost half her savings.

  Her eyes hidden behind the lenses of a pair of oversize sunglasses, Adina scanned the crowd. A secret smile parted her lips when she noticed a man standing a few feet away, staring directly at her. He hadn’t been there before.

  With wide eyes she catalogued everything about him in one sweeping glance. The first thing she noticed was his hands: no rings and no telltale lighter band of flesh on his ring finger. The freckles on the backs of his hands matched those dotting the slightly flaring nostrils in a smooth, round redbone face. She lifted her eyebrows, her smile widening when he flashed a friendly smile. His light brown eyes were the same color as the receding sandy-brown hair he wore in a short, natural style.

  Her admirer was average height with a stocky physique. The timepiece circling his wrist, the off-white silk shirt worn outside the waistband of a pair of beige linen slacks and imported Italian slip-ons silently communicated good taste and sophistication. Her gaze lingered briefly on his hands again before shifting to his thin-lipped smile. She saw him as an ordinary-looking, high-yellow brother.

  “Hi.” Adina was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud when she saw his reaction to her throaty greeting. If the stranger thought she was coming on to him, then he was mistaken. She needed him as a witness just in case Payne decided he wanted to do more than “talk” to her.

  Lancelot Haynes went completely still. Had he imagined that the exotic-looking woman had actually spoken to him because that’s what he wanted? Or was he hearing voices? The first thing he’d noticed was her hair. Parted off-center, it fell in heavy waves down her back. He couldn’t see all of her face behind the sunglasses, but what he saw he liked: a small straight nose and a full pouting mouth. His admiring gaze caressed her off-the-shoulder black-and-white striped top and black cropped pants that hugged every delicious curve of her petite body. A pair of three-inch black patent leather wedge sandals showed off her small feet and shapely legs.

  “Hello,” he said, smiling and extending his hand. “Lance Haynes.”

  Adina took his hand, finding it soft and comforting. It was apparent Lance Haynes used his head rather than his hands to earn his living. “Dina Gordon.”

  There, she’d said it. She was no longer Adina Jenkins, and what she had to do was think of herself as Dina.

  Lance moved closer, inhaling the sensual scent of her perfume. “Do you come here often?”

  Dina shook her head. “No. This is only my second time.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. What he wanted to ask was whether she’d come alone or was waiting for someone.

  “Yes, please.”

  “What would you like?”

  “A soft drink, please.”

  “Are you certain you wouldn’t like something a little stronger?”

  Dina smiled, exhibiting a set of straight white teeth. “I’m very certain.”

  Lance nodded. “I’ll be right back.

  She was still watching Lance’s retreating back when she felt pressure on the nape of her neck. Payne had come up on her without making a sound. She let out a soft gasp as his fingers dug into the tender flesh; her hair concealed the savage grip holding her captive.

  “No one runs out on Payne Jefferson,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I couldn’t—”

  “I don’t want to hear shit from you,” he rasped, cutting off her explanation. “Because you didn’t complete our last deal, I’m going to let you off easy.”

  The initial shock of Payne coming up behind her subsided, replaced by false bravado. “What do you want, PJ?” she
drawled. She knew he hated being called PJ, but she was past caring about what he wanted. She wanted out and she’d do anything he asked to be rid of him.

  “You owe me.”

  “How much?” she asked.

  “Twenty.”

  Dina knew he hadn’t meant twenty dollars. He wanted her to give him twenty thousand dollars. She would’ve had it if she hadn’t given Karla King ten thousand dollars. “I don’t have it.”

  “That’s your problem.” Payne knew men gave Adina money—lots of money.

  “I need time.”

  “How much?”

  Dina saw Lance coming in their direction holding a plastic cup in each hand. “Give me until the Labor Day weekend. After that, we’re through. I’m out, Payne.”

  Payne noticed the man heading toward them. He let go of Adina’s neck. “Okay. Three and a half months, bitch. Call me when you have it.” He shifted, facing Adina while pointing at her with his thumb and forefinger.

  A momentary panic seized her when she recalled what she’d agreed to. How was she going to come up with twenty thousand dollars in three and a half months, short of robbing a bank? Even if she secured legitimate employment, there was no way she was going to earn that much money given her dearth of work experience.

  “Are you all right?”

  Lance’s voice reached into her troubled thoughts as she turned to find him staring down at her. “No.”

  A frown of concern creased his smooth forehead. “What’s the matter, Dina?”

  She took a step, took off her sunglasses, rested her forehead on his chest and dissolved into a paroxysm of tears. Her weeping tugged at something inside Lance. He couldn’t comfort her because his hands were full. Confused by emotions he didn’t want to feel, he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to Dina’s fragrant hair.

  “Talk to me, Dina.”

  She eased back and lifted her chin, seeing an expression of shock replace the concern in Lance’s eyes. “Just get me out of here.”

  Bending slightly, he set the cups on the ground, reached for her hand and led her to the parking lot.