by Mz. Robinson
“Diamond,” he begged. “Baby, please just—”
“Let me go,” I said, ignoring his pleas. “Now!”
AJ released his grip on me, then shook his head. “If you love him, why are you fucking me?” he asked, trying to call my bluff, except I wasn’t bluffing.
I unlocked my car and opened the driver side door. “We aren’t fucking anymore, AJ. I made a mistake,” I said gently, “and it won’t happen again.”
“A mistake?” he repeated. “You weren’t hollering that when you were sucking my dick.”
“You were a good mistake,” I said, “but a mistake nonetheless. Take the memories and cherish them.”
“We can make more memories,” he said.
“No we can’t.”
“Why? I can make you happy, Diamond. I know I can. I can give you what you need, baby,” he stated tenderly.
“AJ you’re the kind of man women come to for a good lay,” I blurted out. I sighed, tired of the conversation. “Gator’s the kind of man women marry. He’s a boss, and you’re just a worker. I’m not worker’s wifey material.”
He looked slightly hurt by my comment, but he maintained a strong disposition. I was thankful for that, because the last thing I needed was for his ass to start shedding tears or pop off. “Well, at least I know where I stand now.”
“Good,” I said. “Try not to forget again.”
“The money has changed you, Diamond,” he said, shaking his head.
“Are you serious?” I laughed. “Alvin, what do you expect? Money does that. It changes everything, even the way you eat, the way you dress.” I studied his eyes and added, “It even changes who you fuck. I’ll admit I’ve been screwing up on that last one lately, no pun intended, but I’m done with all that.” With that, I climbed behind the wheel of my car, then shut and locked the door.
AJ stood outside and stared at me for a moment before he finally climbed inside the truck, started the engine, then sped off.
Chapter 13
I opened my eyes and tried to allow them to adjust to the darkness before pulling myself up against the wooden headboard. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I looked over at the small crystal clock on my nightstand; it was a little after 9:00 p.m. I’d slept for the majority of the afternoon, but I still felt like I could sleep for at least another three hours straight. I blamed my sluggishness on the sedatives the physician had prescribed. The day I’d been anxiously awaiting had finally come, and although I knew what I had to do, I had an unsettling feeling that something wasn’t right.
That morning, Gator had appeared distant himself, as if he was also facing a major, life-altering decision. As always, he’d been loving and warm with me, but I still sensed that something was wrong. We’d had a quiet but delicious breakfast before going our separate ways.
I’d headed straight to the clinic. It only took eight minutes for the procedure itself, but I was in the clinic for almost four hours, going through all those last-minute tests and listening to doctors lecture me, giving me one last chance to change my mind. After I advised the doctor that if she didn’t do it I would, the ball started rolling. Once I’d been cleared to leave the clinic, the doctor gave me some antibiotics and sedatives and sent me on my way.
I’d returned home to an empty house and a note from Gator, advising me that he would be home late. No matter how late it was when my hubby arrived, I planned to treat him to a rare surprise, a home-cooked meal. I settled into our family room and turned on the TV, ready to catch a couple movies on Netflix. An hour later, I was hit with cramps from hell. I took a quick shower, then retired to my bedroom, where I’d been ever since.
Reaching over to my right, I retrieved my phone from the nightstand. I’d missed a call from Venetta, two calls from an unknown number, and an I love you text from Gator. I smiled and replied, Sorry, baby. I was sleep…but I love you too.
I placed the phone on the bed next to me, then picked up the television remote. I stared at the flat screen on my bedroom wall and flipped aimlessly through the channels. “Umpteen channels, and nothing’s on,” I grumbled, shaking my head.
I flipped past Channel 19, CBS, then quickly went back when I noticed they were airing breaking news from Madison County. I watched as the cameraman zoomed in on the scene. There were marked squad cars with their lights flashing and news vans everywhere. “Who got shot this time?” I exhaled and turned the TV up.
I loved my city, but lately crime had been on the rise. It had only been a few weeks since the media had reported the story of a newlywed couple who had been shot on their wedding day during an alleged attempted robbery and car-jacking. There were no leads or suspects in the crimes, but something told me that whoever was responsible had motives other than robbery or stealing a damn car, especially considering that nothing was missing from the victims, including the car.
I listened closely while a brother with lightly toasted skin and a medium build stood in front of the camera, speaking into a handheld microphone, explaining that a hostage situation had taken place earlier. Two women were being held captive, and the situation ended with gunfire exchanged between the suspects and police.
As a previously recorded clip of the scene played, the reporter said, “So far, there have been five confirmed deaths. Among the dead are one of the female hostages and four men. We also have confirmation that the second female captive has been taken to the ER with minor injuries and is expected to be all right. Authorities have not yet released the names of the victims, but behind me, you can see that there is a suspect in custody, being held in connection with the events that unfolded here tonight.”
The camera scanned to a patrol car, with a man sitting in the back, then back to the reporter.
“Sources say this man is Leon Douglass—”
“No,” I whispered, sitting up straight in the bed. I grabbed my phone and speed-dialed Gator’s number, hoping I’d heard the reporter wrong. The phone rang several times before finally going to voicemail. I tried again, only to get the same results. I hung up quickly, then dialed Jonah’s number, only to receive an automated message stating that the number I’d dialed was no longer in service. My pulse raced as realty began to set in: My husband is in trouble.
I tossed back the covers and flinched slightly form the pain in my lower abdomen, then dialed Venetta’s number. I slowly walked over to my armoire, removed a pair of yoga pants and a fitted t-shirt, and slipped them on while waiting for Venetta to answer.
“Hello?” she said, her voice low and scratchy, as if I’d interrupted her sleep.
“Venetta, they just said on the news that Gator’s been arrested! I tried calling his phone and got his voicemail. I called Jonah, too, and his number is no longer in service.” I was rambling a mile a minute, trying to explain. “Is Terrance there?” I asked, breathing heavily. “Can I speak to him?”
“He’s not here right now,” she said with a groan.
“Have you heard from him?” I probed, pacing back and forth across the carpet. “I mean, do you know if he was with Gator? “
“Yeah, he was,” she said, “but he’s not anymore.”
“Well, where is he? Do you know when he’ll be—”
“Terrance is dead, Diamond.” She said the words so flatly that I almost thought I’d heard her wrong.
“What!?” I asked, stopping mid-pace.
“I said he’s dead,” she repeated, just as bluntly.
“Venetta, I…” I had no words to express to her what I felt at that moment. Of course I was still very concerned about my own husband, but according to the news, at least my man was still alive. I held the phone in silence, attempting to collect my thoughts. “Venetta, are you sure?” I finally questioned when I mustered the courage to speak again.
“It’s him, Diamond,” she stated. “The police showed up on my doorstep twenty minutes ago. My husband is dead.”
Click.
Even though she’d hung up on me, I knew my friend needed me at that moment, but
I was more worried about my husband’s situation. I grabbed my purse and keys, then exited the bedroom, heading downstairs. As I approached the landing of the stairs, I heard our landline ringing. I moved as quickly as possible toward the cordless phone that was sitting in its cradle on the table in my foyer. “Hello?” I answered.
“Diamond?” a man replied.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Clint Harvey. I’m Leon’s attorney,” he said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour. I need you to meet me at my office immediately.”
“How do I know you are who you say you are?” I asked, leery.
“Leon thought you’d ask me that,” he advised me. “Inside your safe, there’s a brown accordion file. Inside the file, you’ll find three envelopes. One of those envelopes has my name on it.”
“There’s nothing in our bedroom safe that fit that’s description,” I informed him, keenly aware that he was lying. The only items we stored in the wall safe in our bedroom were my jewelry, a pistol, ten grand, and our marriage certificate.
“Not that safe,” he said. “There’s a wood panel beneath Gator’s chair at the dining room table. The panel is slightly lighter than the others. Remove it, and you’ll find the safe.”
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, mister, but—”
“Do it, Diamond,” he ordered.
“Okay! Hold on.” I exhaled and figured I may as well entertain the man. I walked into the dining room and pulled out Gator’s chair at the head of the table. I eased down on my knees and pulled back the corner of the rug. I’d never noticed it before, but there was a panel there, a shade lighter than the rest. I played with the corners of the panel for a moment, and, much to my surprise, it popped open. I couldn’t believe Gator had hidden the safe from me, and I wondered what else he’d been hiding right under my nose. “What’s the combination?” I asked, staring at the safe door.
“Your birthday,” Clint advised me.
I entered my birthday on the digital keypad, then pushed down on the handle. Once the safe was open, I reached in and pulled out the folder Clint had told me about. Inside were three thick envelopes, one with Clint’s name, one with my name, and one with Venetta’s.
“Do you believe me now?” Clint asked.
I’d forgotten all about the man on the other line, because I was too busy counting the cash inside the envelope with my name on it. There was over $30,000 in it, along with a note that read, “Emergencies only.” I took the liberty of checking the other two envelopes as well; there was ten grand in Clint’s and twenty in Venetta’s. “What’s the address?” I asked.
* * * * *
Clint was a slim, chocolate man with a baby face and low-cut hair. He was attractive and looked to be no older than I was. He was sitting behind a mahogany desk in his office, dressed in a soft pink shirt and gold tie. He made quick work of briefing me on everything that had taken place and what was to come.
As it turned out, the women who’d been held in the warehouse were allegedly tied to Emerson’s death. According to Clint, Gator and Terrance had allegedly plotted to murder one of the women’s husband for his presumed involvement. The plot had gone terribly wrong, however, when the police were tipped off.
“The news said there were five victims. Do you know all their names?” I asked softly. Venetta had already informed me that her husband was among the dead, but I was curious who else had gone down, besides Terrance and the one woman.
Clint flipped through the notes in front of him. “A female, Lena Jasper…Darwin ‘Darth’ McCulley, Alvin Staton Jr., Terrance Bailey, and a Zachery Crawley.”
AJ? I fought the urge to shed tears in front of the man while attempting to digest the news he’d provided. I remembered the last words I’d spoken to AJ, and a cloud of regret hovered over me. Despite our argument and the way I’d dealt with him, I hated to hear that he was gone. I assumed Lena was one of the female hostages, and Zachery was the man we all knew as Z. “Was anyone else taken into custody other than Leon? What about Jonah?”
“Who?”
“No one,” I said. I figured if Gator had never mentioned Jonah to Clint, there was a good reason. Is it possible that Jonah tipped off the police? I trusted the man with my life, and he had saved me from Lisette, but I could not rule out the possibility.
“So what happens next?” I asked, redirecting my attention to Clint.
“Tomorrow morning, the judge will decide whether or not bail should be set,” he explained.
“So he’ll have the opportunity to come home?” I said, relieved.
“Diamond, I’m on Leon’s team because he appreciates my honesty,” the lawyer stated. “That said, I think it’d be unfair of me to paint false hope for you. More than likely, the judge will deny bail, simply because of the severity of the situation. “
“No matter how severe the situation may look,” I said, shaking my head, “my husband is an innocent, law-abiding man, and he deserves to come home.”
Clint looked at me with an expression that said he knew I was lying. After several silent seconds, he leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him on the desk. “Do you know the other reason your husband hired me?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
“Because I know that eighty percent of my clients have committed ninety percent of the crimes they’re accused of, not to mention a whole slew of other crimes no one knows about,” he said. “To be frank, I know they’re guilty, but I don’t give a damn.”
“That’s real,” I said, reaching down in my bag. I removed the envelope with his name on it, then handed it to him.
“Leon will call you in the morning,” he advised, taking the envelope. “Until then, try and get some rest.”
“Why didn’t he call me tonight?” Even when his ass was in trouble, I had to hear everything from the hired help, and that ticked me off.
“There’s really nothing you can do at this point,” Clint said. “Besides, there’s no need to worry you more than necessary. Go home and get some rest. I’ll be in contact.”
I wrapped up my meeting with Clint, then exited his office.
* * * * *
My thoughts ran rampant as I trekked through the parking lot toward my car. Lifting my head, I looked above me. If I had been a superstitious woman, I would have attributed the day’s events on the fact that there was a full moon. I shook my head, wondering what could possibly happen next.
When I’d first arrived at Clint’s office, the parking lot had been empty, with the exception of a red Mercedes that I assumed belonged to him. There was now a black Kawasaki Ninja sitting next to his vehicle. The engine was running, but there was no one in sight. I dismissed the owner’s neglect as stupid; with all the crime that had taken place in our city lately, I wouldn’t have left a rusty Huffy alone and exposed at night.
I unlocked my car and climbed in behind the wheel. I slipped the key in the ignition, then screamed lightly as my mouth was grabbed from behind. I darted my eyes up to my rearview mirror and stared at the intruder in the back seat. He was dressed entirely in black, everything from his t-shirt and sweats to the baseball cap he had pulled down over his eyes. “Jonah,” I mumbled breathlessly.
“Are you okay?” he questioned, releasing his grip on me.
“You scared the hell outta me,” I breathed, clutching my chest. I turned in my seat and glared at him. I took a deep breath then exhaled in an attempt to calm my nerves. “How’d you get in here…and how did you know where to find me?”
“Spare key,” he said. He turned his head and looked out the left passenger-side window, then to the right. “And there’s a tracker on your car.”
I made a mental note to address the issue with the tracker later, for I had more important things to discuss with the man for the time being. “Jonah, what happened? What went wrong?”
“I don’t know.” He exhaled. “But I shoulda been there.”
“Why weren’t you?” I asked, as i
t didn’t make sense to me that Gator’s second-in-command would have been MIA during what had obviously been a major event.
“Gator sent me to Ambergris Caye last night,” he said. “I just made it back a few hours ago. When I rolled up on the scene at the warehouse, I didn’t stop, but I knew whatever had taken place there wasn’t good. I sent Gator a text, asking if I should come through. When I received a Yes, I knew it wasn’t him.”
His mention of Ambegris Caye made me wonder if something had transpired involving Lisette. After we’d left the island and returned home, Gator had never much mentioned the incident again. “Is everything okay there?” I asked.
“Everything was fine,” he said. “It was a wasted trip.”
“Where’d you go after you left the warehouse? I called you, but it said your phone was disconnected.”
“I went to my spot first,” he said, looking around, “just to grab some essentials.”
Jonah’s absence and explanation seemed far too convenient to me. Clint had informed me that someone within my husband’s circle had tipped off the police, and I was beginning to think that someone really was Jonah.
“Diamond, I’m many things, but disloyal isn’t one of them,” he said, reading my mind.
“I know Jonah. I’m just worried about Gator,” I lied.
“Have you heard from him?”
“No, but he had his attorney call me. That’s why I’m here. He said Gator will call me in the morning.”
“Okay. Look, I’ma go to a partner’s house and lie low for a few days,” he advised, reaching into his pants pocket. He pulled a piece of paper out and handed it to me. “If you need anything, hit me up. You can reach me at this number. Don’t mention my name when you talk to Gator, but tell him the exterminator stopped by.” With that, he opened the passenger door and scooted out.
“What? No, wait! I—” I said, confused.
“Just do it, Diamond,” he ordered. “I’ll be in touch soon.” He closed the car door, then ran over and hopped on the motorcycle and took off.
