Friends & Foes

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  Rachel smiled as she leaned back and closed her eyes, too. She said a silent prayer that Buddy had some good news and was about to tell her the whole thing had been a big misunderstanding. She didn’t allow herself to get wrapped up in that delusion, however. Somebody was going to have to pay for Pastor Griffith’s death and right now, all evidence was pointing toward her.

  Ten minutes later, they were walking back into the lobby of the Omni.

  “If it isn’t the most beautiful woman in the world.” Buddy stood, greeting them as they walked into the lobby.

  “Well, thank you,” both Jasmine and Rachel said in unison.

  Mae Frances pushed them both aside. “Now, y’all know he’s not talking about you.” She stopped and smiled widely. “Well, if it isn’t my little buddy.”

  He grinned like a kid on Christmas morning as he swooped Mae Frances up and spun her around.

  She swatted his arm. “Boy, if you don’t put me down! You know I can’t do all that.”

  Buddy set her down, but kept his wide smile. “Whatever! You forget, I know that you taught Alvin Ailey everything he knows. Now you want to act like a little spinning around is too much.”

  Both Rachel and Jasmine dropped their mouths in shock. “Alvin Ailey?”

  Mae Frances grinned but didn’t respond.

  Buddy nodded proudly. “Yeah, she taught the man everything he knows. And one of his most successful performances is dedicated to her,” he said.

  “Is there anything you don’t do?” Rachel asked.

  Mae Frances ignored them. “Hush your mouth, boy. How’s your godfather?”

  “Mad because he’s going to miss you.”

  “Tell him I see him every night. He’s looking good putting those folks in their place on MSNBC.” She patted his cheek. “But we aren’t here to reminisce. What’s going on?”

  His tone turned serious, but he kept his smile. “Let’s go over here and sit down,” he said, pointing to a small sitting area in the corner of the lobby.

  They followed him and, once they were all seated at the table, waited for him to say the first word.

  He stuck his chest out, like a proud peacock. “As you may or may not know, I’m the best in the business,” he began. “When Buddy Clemons is on the case, you’d best believe, results are guaranteed.” He sounded like one of those latenight commercials, but his confidence set Rachel’s heart to racing. She just wished he would get to the point.

  “What’s going on?” Rachel asked.

  “You’re free and clear,” he announced.

  “What?” all three of them said together.

  “Case dismissed,” he said, still smiling.

  “So, there won’t be any charges?” Rachel asked, not wanting to believe her ears.

  “Nope. At least not for now.”

  “What happened?” Jasmine asked. Even though she’d been proclaiming that everything would work out, the look on her face now said she hadn’t really believed that it would.

  “No body. No crime,” Buddy said.

  “What do you mean, no body?” Rachel asked.

  Buddy pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Rachel. “It seems like the body they fished out of Lake Michigan was not Pastor Griffith.”

  Rachel and Jasmine simultaneously gasped. Mae Frances looked shocked herself.

  “But the news said he had ID on him and everything,” Rachel said. “It was his car, his belongings.”

  “Oh, someone wanted everyone to believe it was Pastor Griffith, but the Cook County folks aren’t as dumb as they look. They’re not just gonna say someone died without an autopsy. They’re usually pretty slow about it, but I put the pressure on them and they expedited things.” He pointed to the piece of paper. “The autopsy shows it’s a John Doe from the morgue. The bottom line is, if it’s not Pastor Griffith, they can’t charge you with killing him. At least not without some concrete evidence that the man is even dead.”

  Tears of joy threatened to overtake her and she leapt from her seat and threw her arms around Buddy’s neck. “Thank you so much!”

  He returned her hug, then stood. “Well, I just came by to let you know the good news. I gotta get going. Got to meet another client.”

  Rachel wiped her tears. She had never felt so relieved of anything in her life. “I am eternally grateful to you.”

  “My pleasure. Now, I don’t know if it’s over for good. But for now, you can go home and rest easy.”

  He said his goodbyes, promising to be in touch as soon as he had any more news. As soon as they were back in the suite, Rachel announced, “Thank God, this nightmare is over. I’m going to pack!”

  “No, it’s not over,” Mae Frances announced, stopping her just as she reached her door.

  Rachel turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

  “This is far from over,” Mae Frances said, as she began removing her coat.

  Rachel looked confused until Jasmine interjected, “I agree, because if that wasn’t Pastor Griffith in the river, where is he? And now that there’s no body, it’s just a matter of time before those thugs find out, and they’ll be more sure than ever that he’s not dead and that you know where he is.”

  Rachel fell down on the sofa. This nightmare wasn’t over? She wanted to break down in tears, but at this point, she didn’t think she had any tears left.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-NINE

  Jasmine took a long sip of the steaming coffee that had been delivered by room service. Sipping the coffee gave her time to think this through, to figure out how she was going to handle this situation.

  Rachel stood in front of her with her arms crossed and her lips set in a determined line. When Jasmine remained silent, Rachel repeated what she’d been saying ever since she’d marched into Jasmine’s room fifteen minutes before.

  “I’m serious,” Rachel said. “I don’t care what Mae Frances thinks, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Taking more time as she gently placed the cup on the tray, Jasmine tried to gather patience before she looked up at Rachel. “Have you thought about this? Really thought about this?”

  “All night! I couldn’t even sleep. But this is ridiculous. It’s like I get out of one horrible situation and there’s another one waiting for me. I can’t take it anymore. So I might as well go home.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “So what do you think I should do? Go around Chicago looking for the thugs instead of having them look for me?”

  “No,” Jasmine said, trying to maintain her calm tone and volume. Last night, it had taken her hours to get Rachel settled after Mae Frances had made that grand announcement. She had wanted to slap her friend when she’d told Rachel that this wasn’t over; she was sure Mae Frances knew that her words would set Rachel off.

  This whole nightmare would have set Jasmine off a long time ago. Thugs and guns? Interrogation by the police? And now Mae Frances riding her all the time? This would have been all too much even for Jasmine to handle.

  So with as much concern in her voice as she could muster, Jasmine said, “No, we’re not looking for those guys. We’re looking for the girlfriend.”

  Rachel threw her hands into the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We’ve been looking for this girlfriend and we don’t have a thing to go on. We don’t have a name, we don’t have a telephone number, we don’t have anything. Hell, I’m beginning to wonder if there really is a girlfriend.”

  “We do have something. We have a description. We know from Ms. Martha that she looks like you, and obviously, there’s a reason those punks think you’re her, too. They must have seen Pastor Griffith with her at some point. This all makes sense to me.”

  “None of it makes a bit of sense to me.”

  “For some reason, people think she’s you, or you’re her. I don’t know. I just know that I’m right about this.”

  “Well, I don’t care,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “I’ve had enough. It’s time for me to end this and go home.”


  “What makes you think that this will be over when you get back to Houston?”

  “Maybe it won’t be, but I’ll be able to handle it better with Lester and my folks and the rest of my family. I need to be around people who love me.” Jasmine’s blank stare made her add, “I know you’ve been here for me, too, and I’m really grateful because I couldn’t have gone through all of this without you. But Jasmine, I can’t do it anymore.”

  Jasmine said nothing.

  Rachel said, “I’m out. I’m sorry.”

  As Rachel moved away from her and toward the door, Jasmine called out to her, but Rachel didn’t turn around.

  Jasmine sighed. Why was she fighting this? Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe they all needed to go home. Really, this wasn’t her fight anyway and if Rachel wanted to go, then why should she stop her? She needed to get her butt on a plane and head home, too.

  As she heard the hotel room door open, Jasmine stepped into the bedroom, but a second later, she heard Rachel gasp loudly.

  Jasmine paused, frowned.

  “Well, here you are, little lady.”

  It was Jasmine’s turn to gasp. She eased the bedroom door closed, but kept it open enough to peek through.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” said the tall, lanky man whose arms swung long and low by his side.

  But it was the short, muscular one that made Jasmine shiver. It was the man . . . and his gun that was pointed straight at Rachel’s face.

  Jasmine recognized the men right away since she’d seen them twice already.

  “Where you been?” the short one asked as he jiggled the gun at Rachel.

  “Nowhere, Mr. Muscle,” Rachel cried.

  Jasmine turned away from the door and her eyes searched frantically for her purse. But she’d left it in the living room area of the suite.

  Damn!

  “You here by yourself?” Jasmine heard one of the men ask.

  “Yeah,” Rachel squeaked. “What do you want?”

  “You know what we want.”

  Jasmine tiptoed across the carpet and grabbed the phone by the bed. Her cell would’ve been better—then she could’ve made the call from the bathroom. But she had no choice, she had to do it this way. She was sure the goons outside would hear her, but there was nothing else that she could do.

  Pressing the button for the front desk, Jasmine began speaking the moment the phone was answered. “Help,” she whispered.

  “Yes, Mrs. Bush. How may I help you?”

  “Please help. He has a gun. Please.”

  “A gun?”

  “Yes, call the police,” Jasmine said, speaking fast, so sure that the men would burst into the bedroom at any moment. She hung up and braced herself, but when she heard nothing, she tiptoed back to the door.

  “That was a good trick you pulled.” The one with the gun seemed to be doing all the talking now.

  The two had Rachel pinned against the wall, their backs to Jasmine. Could she take them? She glanced around the room for a weapon, but saw nothing. And did she really want to hit the one with the gun upside his head? Suppose the gun, still pointed at Rachel, went off?

  Rachel said, “What trick? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Yeah, that trick where you and your boyfriend pretended that he was dead.”

  “How many times do I have to say this? He’s not my boyfriend!”

  It was the way Rachel cried, the way she trembled, that made Jasmine swing the door open. “Hey! What’s going on here?” she asked, praying that hotel security would be right up and then the police would be behind them. “Who are you?”

  The one without the gun said, “I’m Mike, but everybody calls me Bean.”

  The one with the gun swung around, but his eyes were on his friend. “Fool, why are you answering her question?” Then he aimed the gun straight at Jasmine’s head. “And since I’m the one with the gun, I need you to tell me who are you?”

  Jasmine crossed her arms as if she wasn’t terrified. “This is my room and I’m the one asking questions.”

  “Uh, no, you’re not,” Bean told her as he grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall next to Rachel. Then he grinned at Muscle as if he hoped that made up for what he’d said just seconds before.

  “You think that little gun scares me?” Jasmine rolled her eyes, though she stayed pinned to the wall.

  “Well, if it don’t, then you dumber than you look,” Muscle said, eyeing her up, then down. “So, who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of Rachel’s,” Jasmine said, “and I want to know why you keep bothering her.”

  “Look, I’m the one with the gun,” Muscle said as if Jasmine was getting on his nerves. “So I’m the one asking the questions, a’ight?”

  “Fine, but why do you keep saying she’s Pastor Griffith’s girlfriend? ’Cause she’s not.”

  Muscle threw his hands up in the air. “Do you hear this ho?” he said to Bean.

  “Who you callin’ a ho?” Jasmine said.

  “You, ho! You need to keep your mouth shut ’cause I ain’t playin’ here.” With the barrel of the gun, he pushed Jasmine back to the wall and Rachel grabbed her hand as if she was trying to calm Jasmine down.

  “Don’t get us killed,” Rachel hissed.

  “You better listen to this trick,” Muscle said to Jasmine.

  “Who you callin’ a trick?” Rachel rolled her neck at him.

  “These . . .” Muscle paused as if he was thinking about the right word to use this time, “these ladies just won’t shut up,” he said to Bean. Turning back to Jasmine and Rachel, he said, “But y’all need to listen to this.” When they both stayed silent, Muscle nodded as if he felt he had control of the situation. “Now, I’m gonna say this and say this quick ’cause I don’t trust you, heifer,” he said, glancing at Jasmine.

  When she opened her mouth as if she was going to protest, he pushed the gun barrel inside.

  Rachel screamed.

  “Look,” Muscle said. “I ain’t gonna hurt nobody. Not yet. But I’m sure you already called the police, right?”

  There were tears in Jasmine’s eyes as she tried to shake her head. But she didn’t want to move too much. Not with the cold, hard metal of a gun in her mouth.

  “We just need the money.”

  “We don’t have your money,” Rachel cried.

  “Yeah, but your boyfriend does and we know that you helped him get away.”

  “I don’t know how many ways to say this. He’s not my boyfriend, I don’t have any money, I don’t know where to get that kind of money, and I don’t even know if Pastor Griffith is dead or alive.”

  “That’s a whole lotta stuff that you don’t know, but let me tell you what you need to know.”

  Rachel nodded. “All right, but please take that gun out of her mouth.”

  “As soon as I finish what I came to say, a’ight?”

  Rachel nodded again.

  Muscle said, “You need to tell your boyfriend to come back here with our boss’s money or else you need to give my boss ten million dollars yourself.”

  “Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” Rachel shrieked.

  Muscle shrugged. “You a big-time businesswoman. Get it from one of your celebrity clients.”

  “Or didn’t you say that your husband had a church,” Bean piped in. “Ask him to give you some of that money he steals from the church every week.”

  When Bean and Muscle laughed, Jasmine closed her eyes. The tip of the gun was still pushed inside her mouth and the way Muscle’s shoulders shook as he laughed, Jasmine knew that with one move, her life would be over.

  “You got one of ’em big churches?” Bean asked Rachel.

  She shook her head. “But she does,” she said, pointing at Jasmine.

  Jasmine’s eyes opened wide. Rachel was just gonna give her up like that?

  But Jasmine didn’t move. And then, Muscle removed the gun from her mouth.

  Rachel sighed and Jasmine coughed, trying t
o get the taste of the metal off her tongue.

  “You got a big church?” Bean asked Jasmine as if that was of great interest to him.

  “Look, we don’t have any more time,” Muscle said. “I know this b—” and he stopped as if he didn’t want to start another round with Jasmine and Rachel. “I know this lady probably done called the police or something.”

  “I didn’t call—”

  He stopped her. “I just need you to understand. You’ve got a week. The money or the man. Your choice.” Muscle backed away. “And don’t think you can run away. Wherever you go, we’ll find you. Houston ain’t that far away.”

  Then, as fast as they’d busted into Jasmine’s room, they were gone.

  Seconds passed, maybe even a minute before Jasmine and Rachel breathed.

  “Oh, my God,” Rachel said, hugging Jasmine. “I thought we were gonna die.”

  “Well, I thought I was gonna die when he put that gun in my mouth . . . and when you told him that I had the bigger church.”

  “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just so scared.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Jasmine said, rushing to the phone.

  “What are you gonna do? I don’t think you should call the police.”

  “I already did that. At least I called the front desk when those goons first broke in. But now, I’m calling Mae Frances.”

  Rachel groaned. “What is she gonna do?”

  Jasmine was shaking as she pressed the number to Mae Frances’s room. “She’s gonna help us.” Turning to Rachel, she said, “I know who Pastor Griffith’s girlfriend is. I know!”

  Jasmine was sure that the police were going to pull them over with the way she was speeding, but she didn’t care. Maybe the police could even help them, since the front desk at the hotel had never called 9-1-1. The clerk had thought Jasmine’s call was a prank, just kids playing.

  Jasmine shook her head just thinking about the way she’d wanted to kill the lady when she’d gone down to the lobby and found out that was why neither hotel security nor the Chicago police had come to rescue them.

  “Are you sure? Are you sure?” Rachel asked, breaking through Jasmine’s thoughts.