Devon’s art hung in the homes of the rich and famous and was showcased in several art galleries and museums all over the world. Here was a man who was determined to be somebody and to do something based on his talent and not his inheritance. All he had ever wanted to do was express himself through his work and make his father — their father — proud.
After graduating from Cardoza School of Law, Guy Yeager had moved to Washington, DC, and gone on to be a vocal and controversial politician in the District of Columbia. He became known for his loud outbursts, his knowledge of the law and his conservative positions on key legislative issues affecting DC government.
At the time, DC was small enough to court his enormous ego, while the city’s local politicians lacked the savvy necessary to combat his robust thirst for power and influence. He was an out gay advocate willing to take on anybody for attention. Even when his position was wrong, he assumed a stature that could not be defeated and he did so knowing he had the support of a new minority at his beck and call. He was just what the gay community in DC had been looking for: tall, handsome, smart, educated and shameless. He was also self-absorbed and narcissistic, key attributes needed to represent sufficiently an underrepresented community and one of the fastest-growing voting blocs in the District.
When Guy Yeager had arrived on the scene, DC politics had been subdued. Sure, there had been mayors with all kinds of shenanigans associated with their tenures, but an out, brash, gay man demanding respect, attention and resources was something difficult to address. Since many DC residents were African Americans who worked in some capacity or another either for the local or the federal governments, getting involved in gay politics and the propaganda surrounding HIV was the last thing on their political agenda. Jeopardizing their government-funded middle-class status for what they perceived to be a disease “cast down by God” was out of the question. As was true for everyone else, there were mortgages to pay and children in college. And if they engaged in advocacy efforts, it was the issue of statehood that typically took center stage, not HIV/AIDS.
So — not surprisingly — when the city became known as a new gay mecca with the highest HIV rate in the country, DC’s Black people, like Blacks in other urban areas, were slow to respond.
But AIDS in the District took on a different persona for Guy Yeager and his advocacy around the issue made him a force to be reckoned with. He knew HIV/AIDS would become the political time bomb he could exploit. He also knew that eventually, the politics of AIDS would elevate him to the power and influence he so desired and it would do so at an unprecedented level for an openly gay elected DC official.
As Blake waited for Edelstein at the Outside Café across from the Wilson Building, he thought about how he had gotten to where he was. He was so close to destroying Yeager he could taste it and there was no turning back. Yeager had seen the picture and knew that meant his affiliation with the Velvet Mafia had been exposed.
It was during one of Devon’s weakest moments that he had begun to tell Blake a story that would change both their lives. Yeager had participated in the murder of a young woman and he forced Devon to watch secretly as his insurance. He had then threatened Devon by stating that he would use the murder against him if he ever decided to leave the relationship. What Yeager didn’t know was that Devon had secretly taken pictures of the woman’s execution.
When Blake first heard the story, he had found it hard to believe. After all, his brother was in one of his drug-induced stupors and extremely depressed. Blake just thought it was some sort of delusion he was having. He knew Yeager was capable of doing many things. But murder? That was beyond Blake’s comprehension.
However, despite his skepticism, the thought of Yeager’s alleged offense continued to trouble him. So, a few months later, Blake had asked Devon about the incident again and when he had, Devon’s whole disposition had changed. Suddenly he was scared and paranoid.
At first, Blake didn’t know what to think. He had never seen his brother so afraid before. Then, three weeks after their discussion, Devon was dead. On the day his brother was found hanging from the beams in his penthouse apartment, Blake received a letter and a package from him.
Dear Brother,
If you are in receipt of this letter, then I am no longer part of this world. I have followed the instructions father laid out regarding protecting and transferring our assets and all that I own has been transferred to you.
In this package, you will find your birth certificate. When father told me I could never betray the Laurie secret, he gave me your birth certificate and a letter he wrote to you, and asked me to keep them safe. He told me you would always be my protector and I should be yours. If I died before you, you would be the last remaining heir and free to expose, if you wish, your birthright. These documents prove that you are the firstborn son and now, sole heir to the Clydesdale fortune.
Also enclosed are some pictures. These pictures are very dangerous and people will kill to get them. They will help you understand why I am no longer here with you. Protect yourself, brother, and let not my death be in vain.
Love forever,
your brother Devon Yancy Laurie
Blake recalled that after reading the letter, he had turned on the news and watched as every major station reported that the sole heir to the Clydesdale Energy fortune, Devon Yancy Laurie IV, had been found dead in Kansas City, Missouri, in his penthouse apartment — an apparent suicide.
All Blake had been able to do was clutch his pillow and cry. The pain had been excruciating. Everyone he had ever loved was now gone and the one he had loved the most had been in so much pain that he had taken his own life. The last time he had cried like that had been when his mother died. That day, emptiness had consumed the room as his pain had become suffocating. Now that remembered emptiness had returned with a vengeance. The brother he loved so dearly — his friend and the man with whom he could be his true self — was gone. For the first time, Blake was alone and belonged to no one.
Why would Devon kill himself? Tears rolled down his face. What could be the source of so much torment that he felt he could no longer go on? Why didn’t I see the signs? And will we ever see each other again? Nothing but questions and pain had permeated Blake’s insulated world, a pain so profound he couldn’t even bring himself to read the letter his father had written him. All he could think about was the fact that his brother had died alone.
And then there were the pictures. He had been walking around his room holding the package; now he placed the contents neatly on his bed. He had to see what was in the envelope and why Devon felt it was important to give to him. As he reached for the pictures, fear grabbed him like a predator lying in wait, but instead of giving in to the unknown, without hesitation he sat back and looked at them in disbelief. There it was: the story was true. Devon had witnessed the murder of a young woman and Yeager had been there when it happened, just as Devon had described it.
Now, however, doubt crept in. What if Devon didn’t kill himself? Struggling to maintain his emotions, Blake settled into his grief and mourned. And then he wept some more.
Chapter 4
AFTER THE BREAK was over, Taylor returned to her committee meeting only to see that more agencies had arrived. Several conversations were going on and she could tell people were angry and wanted answers.
“Hello! May I have your attention, please?” she said, slightly perturbed at their restlessness. “Before we pick up where we left off, I see that several other agencies have arrived. So, please, introduce who you are, the services you offer and the ward you represent. Then we will start where we left off.”
“Hello. My name is Rev. Clovis Green and my organization serves women and children who are homeless. I have several shelters throughout the city.”
“Hi. My name is TJ Hamilton and we provide services to youth in Ward 8.”
“My name is —”
“Excuse me,” Taylor said, politely. “I’m so sorry for interrupting the process, but Mr. E
delstein, I almost forgot to deliver this message: Councilman Yeager would like for you to stop by his office after the meeting.”
“Sure. I can do that,” Edelstein said without hesitation. “No problem.”
As expected, the message Taylor had been instructed to relay made everyone take notice. Many, if not all, knew that Edelstein was a wellconnected political broker and a close associate of Blake Jones, Yeager’s nemesis. But something didn’t feel right to Taylor. Instead of laughing off Yeager’s request as Taylor thought Edelstein would do, he had done the opposite. In fact, he had acted as if he had known the request would be made.
The entire time the meeting was going on, Taylor’s thoughts were somewhere else. All she could think about was the upcoming meeting between Yeager and Eli Edelstein. Something was up and it had to be big for Yeager publicly to “invite” Edelstein to his chambers and for Edelstein publicly to accept. And now that the interviews with witnesses who would be appearing next month to discuss the no-bid contract issue were finally over, Taylor was about to find out what “something” was.
As the two headed to Yeager’s chambers, Taylor found it amusing that the corridors were buzzing with the news that her boss was meeting with Blake Jones’s right hand, and she was delighted with the fact that she too would be at the center of things. However, once in Yeager’s office, things changed.
“Hello, Councilman,” Taylor said. “As requested, Eli Edelstein is here to see you. Shall I bring him in?”
“Yes, of course,” Yeager said, standing up from his desk and fixing his suit jacket. “Send him in. And Taylor? I will not need you for the meeting. It’s late and as you can see, I sent everybody else home for the evening. You can leave, too; just make sure you lock up on your way out.”
Taylor turned sharply to leave, visibly shocked to be left out of the meeting. Outside the office door, she said, “Mr. Edelstein, Councilman Yeager will see you now.” She knew her face was flushed.
“Mr. Edelstein,” Yeager said in an unusually friendly and upbeat tone. “What brought you to our testimonial meeting?”
“I was there to watch. They are open to the public, you know.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” said Yeager sarcastically. “Transparency is critical in the District, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, I would,” Edelstein said. “So, what is it you would like to discuss with me, Councilman?”
Yeager could see the man before him was comfortable, poised and privileged — all characteristics he had encountered many times before. Unfortunately, whenever around a person of such distinction, no matter how much he tried to suppress his reaction, he could still feel like trash in the most subtle of moments. Edelstein’s demeanor had created one of those moments. Edelstein’s brown, wavy hair parted on the side and combed to perfection, olive skin and his six-foot-six-inch frame on full display, layered in fine clothing made Yeager sick. It reminded him of his deceased lover. Devon Laurie had had that same air of arrogance and Yeager despised it. And here he was again, feeling like trailer park trash in front of a Jew.
“Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Edelstein? I have a number of different waters, carbonated soda and of course, some scotch.”
“I’ll have water, thank you,” Edelstein said.
“Any specific preference?” Yeager asked. He waved his arm as if he were presenting the finest bottled waters on the market.
“No,” Edelstein said, still very serious. “Just plain old water will be fine.”
Obviously parched, he drank the full bottle without pause and placed the empty bottle in the trash. Then he said, “Councilman, I don’t mean to rush you, but I do have several other things on my agenda. So, what is it you want to discuss with me?”
Yeager was not used to being pushed in a meeting. But now Edelstein had done to him what he would often do to others; now he was on the defensive.
“Yes, of course. I understand,” Yeager said, perturbed at Edelstein’s aggressive behavior. “Time is critical and I won’t keep you too long. I asked you here because I need some information and I thought you would be willing to help me.”
“Information? What type of information?” Edelstein asked. “And what makes you think I have the information you want?”
“Trust me, Mr. Edelstein,” Yeager said as he looked Eli up and down before he sat on his couch, legs crossed, a glass of scotch in his hand. “You would not be here if I didn’t think that you could fulfill my needs. And I believe that anything you tell me about a certain person will be beneficial to both of us.”
Eli could feel the hint of seduction emanating from Yeager’s disposition. He had felt it before.
“Are you sure I have the information?” Eli said.
“Yes! You not only have the information, but you also have access to the person. What I need to determine is how much it will cost me to have the same information and access that you have.”
“I see,” Eli said, turning to face the window.
“You are here because I want Blake Jones,” Yeager said. “I want to know everything you know about him. I want to know where he came from, who his close associates are, where he gets his money and who is financing him. I want to know everything about him.”
With his back turned, still facing the window, Eli couldn’t help but snicker at the thought that Yeager was doing exactly what Blake had predicted he would do.
“And in turn for this information, I get what?” Eli asked, now turning again to face him.
“The world,” Yeager said, as he spread his arms like an eagle getting ready to soar.
“So let me get this straight,” Edelstein said. “You asked me to come in here because you wanted me to give you information on my associate and in return, if I do what you want me to do, you will give me the world?”
“Yes!” Yeager now stood up, excited, as if he had caught his prey. “I have very influential people in my life who have the power to change your life. With my help, you can go from being a number two man in Jones’s organization to being the man in mine. If you help me, you will never want for anything and you will have unlimited power and influence at an unprecedented level.”
As Edelstein listened to Yeager go on about his power and his ability to be a game changer, he was internally going over everything Blake had said Yeager would do and it was exactly as Blake had described.
“Why are you so interested in Blake Jones?”
“That is something we can discuss at another time,” Yeager said, back in control. He loved it. “I’ve said enough. But, if you are interested, you have until eight tomorrow morning or the deal will be off the table,” Yeager said dismissively. “And Eli, please do not try to double-cross me. Always remember, I have powerful people in many places. The last thing you want to be doing is looking over your shoulder when you’re at the temple.”
Much to Yeager’s surprise, Eli refused to dignify the threat with a response and in that choice, became the alpha male in the room. But Yeager wasn’t done. As Eli reached the outside office door, he heard Yeager yelling in the background: “Eight tomorrow morning, Mr. Edelstein.”
Once Edelstein was out of the office, Taylor returned and made her move.
“Councilman,” she said. “I overheard you tell Mr. Edelstein eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Is there anything you would like for me to pull together for you in preparation for your meeting?”
“No,” Yeager said. “I thought I told you to go home.”
“You did, but I had some last-minute things to complete in preparation for the hearing next month.”
“Oh, really,” Yeager said. “Since when do you do last-minute things? Those duties are usually relegated to one of your subordinates. Tell the truth; you were spying on me, weren’t you?”
“Spying on you?” Taylor said laughing. “In God’s name, why would I do that? I don’t have to spy. If I want to know something, I can just ask. If you choose to tell me, great. If not … oh, well.”
Yeager loved to mess
with Taylor, and this was turning into one of those effortless moments. Everything he wanted to know would be learned by how she responded and not by what she said. And in this case, he knew. Now he had to decide what he was going to do. Could he use Taylor to assist him in uncovering information about Blake or would it be better to use her to watch Edelstein?
“Taylor,” he said calmly. “I do have an assignment for you. I want you to find out everything you can about Eli Edelstein. Bring me all the dirt. Nothing is off-limits. True or not true. Rumors and innuendoes. Get everything. And the next time I catch you spying on me …”
Once outside the Wilson Building, Edelstein made his way to the café where Blake had been waiting. When Blake looked up from his paper, he could see Edelstein coming. He knew it was a risk involving Edelstein, but it was one he had to take. When Edelstein reached the table, Blake could see he was visibly angry.
“How did it go?” Blake asked, as he pulled a chair out for Eli.
“That smug little SOB threatened me.”
“Slow down, friend,” Blake said. “Take a deep breath and exhale before you choke. Let’s have a drink and then you can tell me what happened.”
Once Eli calmed down, he began to talk.
“And what did he offer in exchange for this information?” Blake asked.
“Believe it or not, Blake, he offered me the world.” Eli laughed quietly. He couldn’t believe Yeager felt so sure of himself that he had offered to give him anything he wanted. “But the real kicker was when Yeager
… well, ordered me to come into his presence. You were right! It was a grandstanding moment. He had Taylor announce to the whole room that he wanted to see me after the meeting. All the usual suspects were there and when I agreed, they were like mice chasing cheese. They were texting people and leaving the room with their BlackBerrys in hand. It was funny, to say the least.”
“I bet,” Blake said, finishing up his drink. “Now tell me specifically what he wanted to know about me?”
Velvet Mafia Page 8
