by Love Belvin
“Yeah, because this community partnering with the Bronze Heat group from the fire department is getting played out.” Sofia, seated across the table, fingered through a stack of papers. “We’ve only been visible at schools and senior facilities—oh, and at Eastside Park. The next is obviously a policy deliverable from the campaign trail.”
“Like corrupt policing?” His excitement was abrupt.
“No,” she returned just as quickly. “I was thinking one of the bigger promises like cleaning the city. There are several businesses vying for real estate here. It’s time to let them in.”
“Begin gentrification?” I noted with clear mockery.
Sofia’s long lashes batted as she visibly decided on a tone for me. Her lips pursed before forming a coerced smile. “You know me well enough to know I’m not a proponent for gentrification. The city of Paterson deserves the right to retain its heart and soul even through cabinet changes.” She tapped the head of her Tiffany & Co. pen against the legal pad beneath her breasts. I was familiar with the writing implement because I’d purchased it for her mother to gift to Sofia when she graduated with her master’s degree. “Let’s be civil here.”
Her tone softened considerably when addressing me. Sofia and I were able to move past her drunken meltdown after the victory party last month. Not only did Julius rip into her ass before I addressed it myself, but when I did get to her, by the time I was done, Sofia was visibly shaking. She apologized profusely and offered to do the same to my wife, something I wouldn’t permit. There was no fathomable reason for those two to engage in discourse. Besides, my Nalib was unpredictable when rattled. She was pregnant and I couldn’t trust my wife to think of the safety of our unborn child during a violent episode.
Taking a deep breath, I sat back in my seat, casually perusing Julius’ new digs in City Hall. There were pictures of him with Keisha, others with her and their children. I spotted one of his mother. Another image posted on the alder wainscoted walls with a walnut finish was of him and a former professor at Blakewood University. His degrees were on display, too. These were all the hallmarks of an accomplished man achieving his dreams, which was why I was utterly stunned at the sight of a framed picture of the two of us on graduation day, fully uniformed in hood and gowns.
Abandoning the sentiment, I returned my regard to Sofia. “Which business that you’re aware of has expressed interest?”
The tapping of the pen increased as her eyes rolled across the room. “Several. A few local grocery stores, bodegas, a couple of car shops, and hair salons.”
Each type of enterprise she named was likely belonging to Hispanic entrepreneurs. There were only a handful of grocery stores still left in Paterson. Major grocers like Pathmark and Acme had packed up and left years ago, opening the opportunity for smaller ones to start up.
“The only Black-owned grocery store in the city would be my father’s.”
She readjusted herself in her seat. “What are you saying?”
“Simply that those potential businesses you’ve mentioned are all likely of Hispanic heritage,” I made clear.
“Yeah, Sofee,” Julius added. “None are Black, I bet,” he groaned, hands reaching to brush frustratingly down his face.
She shrugged, virtually confirming it. “Those are the ones expressing interest!” Sofia argued.
“To a fellow-Latina,” I had to indicate.
Her chest fell, as did her eyes. “Are we about to make this about Black versus brown again, Ellis?” Sofia forewent the eye contact necessary to make a sound argument.
I guessed she was still stingy my wrath regarding the victory party check.
“I have no desire to.” I plucked a vibrating phone of mine from the table, quickly scanning a text message. “I will, however, state for the record my only condition for accepting this role was to advance the development and agenda for Black men and women in the city. The moment that possibility deviates, I have no interest here.”
Sofia chewed the inside of her jaw, peering away.
“What do you propose we tackle next, Ellis?” Julius inquired. “I have a young and motivated staff locked, loaded, and ready to take flight.”
I shifted my regard to the blonde with dark roots, which is what I saw more of than her actual face at the moment. “I was actually thinking along the same lines as Sofia, however, on a leveled playing field.” She finally returned her gaze my way. “Returning the community, in an ownership manner, to the residents who were here first.”
Her brows pinched. “Whites were here first.”
“And they left, yielding the city to Blacks.” I tossed my chin to Julius. “It’s time to engage in cooperative economics.”
“Co-op?” Sofia chirped, narrow shoulders lifting. “Of what kind, specifically?” She raised a palm. “And please be comprehensive because lots of those ideas sound great in theory but can’t be implemented for shit. Low-income people will remain poor while owning their homes. That’s not great economics. That’s putting more weight on their shoulders and increasing the likelihood of deeper poverty.”
Julius’ head bounced left and right like a ping pong ball.
When it landed my way, I added, “Community land trusts. Low-income families are afforded the opportunity to own property, equity is formed while it all remains affordable to the owner.”
“How?” Julius asked.
“Joint control. With community land trusts, property is purchased by the trust. Then forthcoming, low or middle-income homeowners agree to a long-term, renewable lease instead of a conventional sale of said property. When the homeowner sells the property, he, she, or they earn a portion of the increased value of the property. Ideally, they’ll invest in their wealth with what was earned. The balance of the added property value stays with the trust, for the next set of low or moderate-income families. And this goes on for generations, retaining the residence and giving them the opportunity at wealth.”
“Really?” Sofia’s chin dipped. “Does that really work, though? Long-term leasing?”
I nodded. “The rate of land trusts home foreclosures, in some communities, has been as high as ninety percent less than traditional mortgages. It works.”
“That’s an astounding stat,” Julius breathed, dazed.
“I can have the data sent to you tonight.” I tapped the table with my index finger.
“Yeah.” He scratched his head, incredulously stuck. “Please do. I’ll be pulling another all-nighter with Keisha huffing and twisting until the morning.” Jules rubbed his eyes again.
I couldn’t feel compassion, however. This was it. It was the role he’d been speaking into existence since I’d known him. This was the big leagues.
I followed Julius’ eyes to Sofia.
She was scrolling down her laptop. “A grassroots startup for land co-ops? You’ve got to be fuck—” She swallowed back her comment, governing herself wisely. “It’s not as easy as it seems. Have you read the research on it? It usually consists of faith-based organizations. They’re difficult to cultivate…” Her head shook in between reading. “The studies will tell you it creates a competition for other grassroots organizations that have existed prior to said community land trust. People are fallible and can use arbitrary specifications in its selectivity. And finally…” She dropped her face again, her voluminous blonde-dyed mane bouncing over her shoulders. “…it requires either governmental backing or private, neither of which we have time for this term. It could take years to garner the endorsement and funding.”
“Shit!” Julius swore, tossing his pen across the table in a tantrum.
His eyes skirted back to me almost immediately, silently asking for a solution.
I sat back in my seat, brows lifting and chin dipping. In direct response, Richards’ eyes burst wide, recognizing the gesture of confidence.
“You motherfucker!” he croaked. “What did you do?” A smile crested.
“What I always fuckin’ do,” I replied with ease. “What Earl Ellis has t
aught me to do.”
Sofia’s chest caved, those double Ds she loved sandwiching around my cock resting on either side of her boney sternum still pronounced in appearance. Her lips, I found a familiar experience, pursed. “And what’s that?” she breathed, lids lowering in exhaustion from defeat.
“Never to show to a meeting unprepared. I’ve been meeting with faith-based organizations for months now—nearly a year—beginning with my own. Over the past month, a board has been established with one church.”
Her head shot up. “Who?”
“Olivet Good Shephard on 14th Ave, a small family-run organization with long-standing roots in the community. Unlike my personal church, they’re of more humble and modest standing, making them a better visual for the crusade. They’ll take the lead in the grassroots effort with several other faith-based and non-profits on the board,” I answered.
“And funding?” Jules asked. “Who will we get the backing from?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she hissed, head cocked to the side as she peered at Julius.
“Financing has been secured by a private organization from the home state.” I announced.
It seemed like the blood had drained from Sofia’s face when she uttered at the same time as Julius, “Who?”
I shrugged with my brows. “McKinnon & Baker, a large development firm. Mostly commercial.”
“Hold up! You mean…” Sofia couldn’t speak as fast as her brain moved, it seemed. “Ragee?”
My head dipped in affirmation. “I have a meeting with Marshall Johnson tomorrow to finalize our agreement for funding.”
“I know her!” Sofia snapped her fingers, fighting to recall. “She’s in finance in the Kings organization!”
“The Connecticut Kings?” Julius’ jaw dropped.
I explained, “Mrs. Johnson grew up in Riverview Towers. She’s ‘Paterson’ and has pledged her commitment to seeing the vision of community land funding in her hometown through.”
“Fuck!” Julius barked, leaping from his chair and tossed his palm my way. “My fuckin’ guy right here! You see that?” I met his palm just in time, understanding what this first implementation of a real policy deliverable meant to my friend’s seat as mayor. He began packing up his things. At that prompting, I did the same, hoping to catch Bilan before she fell asleep. I hadn’t been keeping up with her eating, which was critical now that she was expecting again. “Not so fast, my extra credit-owner.” I glanced up to find him peering down on me.
“Pardon?” I asked, ready to leave the table.
Julius shook his head. “This is an equitable deal. Remember? That means what one policy advisor knows, so must the other.” His leer was lethal. “I’ll await your data via email while I rub down my wife’s feet before she knocks the hell out tonight.” With his things in his hands and tucked beneath his arms, he turned back to the table. “Besides, I think you two have had long enough to defrost from last month’s quandary.” He winked. “Now make it up to me.”
The motherfucker took off, leaving us in his office. I sat back and sighed furiously into a balled fist.
“He’s right, you know.” I glanced over to Sofia wearing a reticent grin. “I totally fumbled over myself—” She rolled her eyes. “—majorly fucked up. I could have blown the opportunity of working with one of the brightest, most astute minds I’ve ever come across.” Her expression turned desolate. “I have lots of work to do on myself, I know.”
My phone buzzing over the table captured both our attention. I lifted it to find Bilan texted a picture of her and Sadik out in the east garden. The shrubs were perfectly stark, bold colors and the nightlights from the poles illuminated the freckles on her sculpted cheekbones. Those supple lips pouted as she blew a kiss. Her hair an even sheen of fresh jet black curls. My chest tightened at the image.
All mine…
I blackened the phone, placing it back on the table. Reclining in my seat, I sighed, “So, community land trust in Paterson…”
∞17∞
I knew the moment he’d awakened because the twitching began. As he lay out in the narrow bed beneath several sheets, he faced the door to his hospital room. His neck twitched like a mechanical device when he slowly turned his head my way. I watched him struggle to focus his one remaining eye. The one damaged by the bullet couldn’t be saved.
His body steeled when he registered my presence. Then, for a moment, his entire frame vibrated. Having known him for thirty-nine years, I understood it wasn’t from fear, rather contempt.
“Who…” He swallowed, voice so graveled. “Who sent you?” A few difficult breaths dispelled. “Ma ain’t…been up much. Pops?”
I lifted my chin. “My wife, actually.”
His lone eye circled, brain seemed to be computing. After a moment, he wheezed. “You ain’t…have to do me no favors.” He tried lifting himself.
“Trust me, I won’t,” I mumbled, sitting up in my seat. “And now that I’m here, I can let you know you’ll be transported to a new facility for the next phase of your recovery.”
He didn’t respond, though I knew he understood. His fists were clenched at his side, bandaged head awkwardly tilted over his pillow with his one eye patched. Iban looked a gory, weakened sight. I couldn’t believe the damage he inflicted on himself and the vulnerable and precarious position he put the family in. News had spread about his near-tragic injury, and it was only a matter of time before the sharks would begin to circle the Ellis dynasty. Unless my father’s own revival fast-forwarded, he could be forced out of the game.
I stood to leave, unable to continue to see the imbecile laid before me.
“Hold up…” he choked out. I turned to find the ticks had returned as he searched for a chorded remote in his bed. With better mechanical speed than his own motor skills, the bed inclined. The next process was for his head to turn to the opposite side facing me. “You finally got what you want: pop’s only gun.”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I got a healthy son…in spite of his uncle’s selfishness and attention-seeking ass ways. What I’ve always wanted was what my big brother’s had. A bad ass loyal wife and healthy kids. By the grace of God, I still have that after your biggest fuckup to date.”
His fists curled again, jaw tightening. “I fucked…up.”
“Majorly.” I opened the door. “Good luck on that recovery process.”
“Last one! One, two, three!” he called the combo, and I implemented it rhythmically and just as fast with burned arms. “That’s it.”
When done, I barreled over with gloved hands going to my knees, trying to catch my breath. A shower and cheese fries from B-Way Burger was the goal for the evening. At after eight-thirty at night, it was late, but I still had another stop before returning to Hunterdon County.
“You come only when you’re baking now,” Dimitri scolded and teased in his rich Russian brogue, pointing to his stomach.
Out of breath, I stood straight and peeled the gloves off with an unapologetic beam. Dropping them to the floor, my hands went to my small yet expanded belly. “It seems so, doesn’t it?”
“I think you know what I mean, Bilan.” My stunned regard shot up to him. “I know Sadik Ellis, and I know you know him, too.” His lips pouted as he gestured to the belly I was cupping.
I tried to maintain my smile. “Very well.”
“I know his family is being heavily guarded and why. You must be coming without his knowledge. It’s not safe for you to be here without him knowing.”
“I’m coming because I need the sessions. Last year, I missed months of training.” Spellbound and seduced by said Ellis! “I got pregnant and just had that baby. Months later, I’m pregnant again. I don’t want to lose stamina or strength. I may not be the scared damsel I was before taking a hiatus, but I still need the training, Dimi, and you know it.”
He stood back, resting on the heels of his feet, expression challenging me. “Ellis does not want me training his lady.”
“And why is tha
t?” I was dreadfully curious.
How did they even know each other? When Sadik mentioned Dimitri’s name so conversantly last fall, I was too stunned by his patent jealously and possessiveness to consider their acquaintances. That was until three weeks ago when I decided to resume my workouts with my former trainer. Sadik had been too busy to honor his commitment to training me, and my body needed the strengthening. Now, Dimitri’s mention of Sadik with a level of familiarity had riled my interest...and concern.
“Because he knew the Dimitri you do not.” His blue irises flashed with muted warning.
I switched weight on my legs, hands landing on my hip. “And what does that mean?”
“I don’t need any trouble from the Ellises, Bilan. My world is different now. I’m a family man. If he doesn’t want you here, I don’t think you should be here. You’re having his baby again.”
“Two weeks after I’ve come back?” Dimitri didn’t respond to my questioning eyes. “Are you dropping me as a client?”
“Only if I see it is making trouble.” And just that quickly, there was kindness in his eyes. “Dimitri makes no trouble, no more.”
I took a deep breath, recognizing a wall in communication when I saw one. Dimitri repeated the existence of a formal life where he knew the Ellises. That was all the information I needed to infer the obvious. My former trainer was in the illegal trade business once upon a time. I would have never guessed that about him.
Another example of my naiveté…
Breaking my deep gaze at him, I ambled over to my bag and dug into my wallet for his weekly payment. It was almost triple of what I’d paid when I signed up years ago. He’d always been generous with his pricing, but now I didn’t need his charity. I needed his knowledge. I’d pay handsomely and what he deserved for his services, and hopefully earn his trust. It could possibly come in handy soon.
Dimitri was right; I had been sneaking under Sadik’s nose. I’d been paying an unsuspecting driver and tenured security guard of Earl’s to cart me around instead of Sadik’s men. My husband had been so consumed with work and public policy, he hadn’t asked detailed questions about my time off the compound and I didn’t volunteer them either. I simply timed my travel around his leaving and returning to Elliswoods Palace. Tonight was even easier to escape because Sadik had ascended on his jet for Atlanta a few hours ago for work. He wouldn’t be back for two days.
