“Good news,” he reported. “I’ve booked you on the first flight out of here to Detroit tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. They only had one seat on this flight, and you have it. The roads will be cleared by morning, and I promise I’ll get you to the airport.”
“Oh, thank you, David. Knowing that, I feel so much better.” She’d see the children by early tomorrow afternoon and drive the babysitter back to St. Mary’s. Steve should be home Sunday afternoon, and then everything, as if that were possible, would be back to normal.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It was already dark in downtown Detroit, but Snake had time to kill before meeting Stacy at Baker’s. He worked full-time now, and tonight he had extra money in his pocket. He bought himself a pint and walked over to Theodore Street to look at his mural. The painting had taken him much longer than he’d anticipated. Having a job got in the way of your life, but it was finally finished. Tonight he would convince Stacy to take a ride over so she could see it for herself. He had a new name for it, The Happening, and he would explain it all to Stacy, tell her all about the Supremes song of that name that inspired him, tell her how the song came out just before the ’67 riots but that it was almost like the song was a warning to the city when he heard it, about all the trouble it was in. He would show her how The Happening revealed the heart of Detroit, the struggle, and the deep yearning for freedom — his own struggle.
In Highland Park, Stacy flipped on the color television set in the Nelson’s living room and plopped down on Steve’s recliner, a bag of potato chips in hand. Being alone in front of a TV was a rare treat. So different from her dormitory where all the girls had to congregate in the activities room and jockey for a decent view. There was always a fight over which channel to watch, and the nuns monitored the programs anyway. The rules: no profanity, no sex, no violence.
Some day, Stacy dreamed, she’d have her own house. Somewhere with no fear, no crime, no prejudice. Yes, she would have her own kids, too, and bring them up with plenty of food, nice clothes, and a safe place to live. No longer did this seem like an impossible dream. She was definitely as smart as the white girls at the academy as she had proved to both her teachers and herself. If she could only get a scholarship to college, maybe she could get a really good job. It was possible, right?
Her mama had told her that Steve Nelson’s wife was a doctor. Maybe that’s what she wanted to be, too. Like Anthony was going to be. Monica told her that a career like that took eight or ten years of school before it even started. Almost a lifetime. But then Mrs. Nelson had four kids and a husband, and she was doing it. Stacy thought she might ask for some advice from Mrs. Nelson when she met her tomorrow. So far, the nuns at the academy were her only adult link to the successful, white world. Although they tried to be helpful, only Sister Mary Agnes, back home at St. Joseph’s, seemed to know what it was like in the streets. How else could she have found Stacy that horrible Christmas Eve night two years ago?
She cringed. Well, she was doing okay now, and she had learned about the polarization of cultures, knowledge that had already changed her life. Her dedication to her mother and sisters stuck in Detroit’s ghetto had only grown. She knew her mother was working hard to get them out, and Stacy continually tried to reconcile this struggle with her own dreams.
Shuddering slightly, she realized how close she had come to a dangerous liaison tonight. She should never have agreed to go out with Snake. But Johnny used to tell her about Baker’s, and she’d always wanted to go there. Snake had been a friend to both her brothers; somehow when she was with him, she felt closer to them. Crazy, she knew, but Snake was the only person who could bring back those bittersweet memories. How she still grieved for them both, especially Anthony. With his scholarship, he would have paved the way for the whole family to move to a safe and comfortable life. Now it was all on her. When she was a doctor, she’d specialize in gunshot wound cases, Stacy fantasized.
A sudden pounding at the back door startled her, and she jumped up. The pounding continued, louder now. Tentatively, Stacy approached the door. The clock on the wall read five minutes past ten. She heard a loud male voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Checking to make sure that the chain lock was securely engaged and noting the bolt mechanism across the door, Stacy finally called out, “Who’s there?”
“Stacy, open the motherfuckin’ door.”
Stacy gasped. “Snake?”
“Damn right. The motherfuckin’ fool you blew off tonight. You don’t open this door right now, I’ll kick it in.”
Hands shaking, Stacy slid off the chain, unlocked the bolt, and quickly opened the door. Snake barged into the kitchen. As usual, he wore black and his head was shaved, just like Johnny’s had been. She could tell he’d been drinking. She could smell it on his breath.
“Man almighty, Snake. You’ll wake the children.” She tried to keep her voice calm as he moved forward, shoving the twins’ high chairs across the room.
“Now, wouldn’t that just be too fuckin’ bad.” Snake pushed past Stacy, as he stalked into the dining room. He picked up a photograph framed in crystal, then threw it onto the hardwood floor scattering fragments in every direction.
“Snake, please,” Stacy pleaded, tugging at his arm. “Come on, sit down.”
Snake shrugged her off and walked over to the wall lined with framed pictures of the Nelsons. “This who you think you is, or what?” he demanded.
“Stop, Snake,” she pulled at his arm again. Tears welled in her eyes. The phone rang then, but Snake grabbed her.
“Forget it. I want you to look at this, look at all them white faces. See the difference? See how there’s no color in their faces at all? That the world you want to live in? Honky world?”
Snake stopped speaking abruptly as he stared at a portrait of the Nelson family. On one end of a couch, Steve sat next to the kids, Laura on the other end. “You see who that is, girl? Look close.”
Stacy had no choice but to look. Snake had pulled her next to him. The phone finally stopped ringing.
“Oh my goodness, it’s that doctor,” Stacy said.
“Yeah. It’s her all right. That yellow-hair doctor lady from the hospital. And here you is, baby-sittin’ for the bitch who near killed your brother?”
Stacy’s eyes were wide with confusion and fear. “How did you know where I was?”
“Yeah, I waited for you tonight,” Snake began, “waitin’ and waitin’. Finally some fine woman comes up and says, ‘Snake? Could your name be Snake?’ I says, ‘Yeah’.” And she says, ‘Stacy said to tell you she couldn’t make it tonight. She’s baby-sittin’ for her mother’s boss, Mr. Steve Nelson.’ All I had to do is dial information and get the motherfuckin’ address.”
“That was Monica. I asked her to let you know. So you wouldn’t be upset.”
“Upset? I’m fuckin’ pissed you blew me off for the honky lives here. ”
“Mama asked me as a favor.”
“I got more information for you. Same Mr. Steve Nelson from the Social Services Department last year, lecturin’ me bout my Mama and welfare, tellin’ me to get a job like I wasn’t already lookin’ for one. Took me forever part-time to get to full-time and look where I find you when I do? In the honky’s own house.”
“Please, Snake,” Stacy whispered. Snake had tightened his grip on her arm. “That hurts.”
“I’m not good enough for you, huh? It’s that fucking white school. Guess you think you’re one of them now. Too good to go to Baker’s with Snake.”
He dragged Stacy into the living room. The phone started ringing again. Snake pushed Stacy onto the sofa then headed back toward the kitchen, where he yanked the phone off the hook.
Stacy was sitting on the sofa when Snake returned. “Look … I’m really sorry about tonight,” she stammered. “This job came up. It was an emergency. This Mr. Nelson is my mama’s boss. I didn’t know anything about his wife, the doctor. I wanted to call you, I mean, but I know you have no phone so I couldn’t.
I sent Monica.”
Snake sat down next to her and reached under his shirt. From under his belt, he drew out a gun, inspected it, and casually shifted it from hand to hand.
Stacy recoiled. “What are you doing with that?”
“This’s my ticket to respect. Nobody gonna dis Snake they know I’m packin’.”
“But it not legal? Is it?”
“Girl, where you from? Of course it’s not ‘legal’.” Snake kept fondling the weapon. “This say, I’m bad. Don’t mess with me.”
“Could you please put it down,” Stacy said. “I don’t want to be anywhere around guns. They scare me.”
“I promised your mama that I would find the motherfucker who gunned down Johnny. I swear I will. I promised your mama I would look out for you too.” Snake’s voice softened and he reached over and placed his weapon on the side table near the steps. “Now you’re old enough,” he said, pulling Stacy toward him. “Old enough to be Snake’s woman.”
“I can’t go out with you, Snake,” Stacy said edging away.
“Sure you can,” he said. “You’re sixteen now.”
“No, I can’t,” she blurted. “Mama won’t let me.”
Snake stared at her. “You know what you’re sayin’? You babysittin’ for the white bitch who messed up Anthony, the motherfucker who fucked up my mama’s welfare. Girl, you dissin’ your brothers.”
He drew her closer against his body. She could feel his breath, the rapid beat of his heart. Feel his hand caressing her breast. “Anybody ever touched you like this?” he whispered.
“No,” she whispered back, scared to move, scared to resist, scared of the gun.
Snake drew her closer to him, slipping his hand inside her bra. “Feel good?” he prompted.
“Snake, don’t,” Stacy finally managed. “I don’t want you to do that.”
“Baby, you’re gonna love it. You’re a big girl now.”
He nudged her onto her back, straddling her, kissing her lips.
Stacy struggled to sit up. “No.” she said, louder, firmer. “I said, stop.”
“Baby, I’m not gonna hurt you. You just lie still,” Snake tried to kiss her again, but she jerked her head sideways.
“No.” she screamed. “Don’t. I don’t want you to do that to me.”
“I promise, baby, you’ll love it. Snake will never hurt you. You just keep quiet. Okay? Don’t want to wake the whitie children.” His body now lay on top of hers, both fully clothed. “I’m not going to force myself, Stacy. I want you to want me. Real respect, baby.”
Neither Snake nor Stacy saw Mikey, clad in blue flannel pajamas and grasping his beloved Ginky, sneak down the stairs. Without a word, he lifted the gun off the table and carried it back upstairs.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
It seemed so natural, so right, as David sat beside Laura on the sofa in the spacious living room of the dimly lit suite Friday night. His arm softly encircling her shoulders as if to protect her from an imaginary chill. The fireplace created a romantic glow in the room, and aside from its sparking embers, the rest of the world seemed to be standing still.
Neither spoke. David’s arm around Laura’s shoulders tightened ever so slightly. Soon, Laura’s head rested on his shoulder. She snuggled a little closer and lifted her head slowly. The expression on David’s face, outlined by the fire, was one of pure pleasure mixed with real pain.
“It’s getting very late,” he said. “Do you think you should get some sleep?”
“I feel so totally wonderful that I never want to move,” she said simply.
“I don’t either, but I promised you your own room, and I don’t want you to think I deceived you.” He took her hand and brushed it lightly over his cheek. “The truth is, I don’t think I can protect your honor if we stay like this much longer.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, then kissed him lightly on the lips. She stood up slowly and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Then she lay face down on the king-size bed and began weeping softly into the pillow.
After a while she undressed, brushed out her hair, and pulled on the only nightgown she’d packed, a sheer knee-length. Quietly opening the bedroom door, she moved silently into the darkness that was interrupted only by the flicker of fading embers. David was still sitting on the sofa, holding a glass of wine in both hands, staring blankly ahead.
When Laura reached down to touch his face, she felt hot tears. Wordlessly, she reached for his hand. After removing the glass and placing it on the coffee table, in a low, husky voice she invited him to come with her into the bedroom.
Laura motioned him toward the bed. Neither said a word as she adjusted the small lamp in the corner of the room to a muted glow and slipped out of her nightgown. David slowly removed his clothes and joined her. Floating on a mattress of dreamy desire, their bodies came together. Unhurried, yet aflame in a passion that Laura could not have fathomed. They made love, their bodies joined, savoring every exquisite sensation.
Knowing that this may be their only night together, they lay in each other’s arms until the sky lightened. David rose first. He left the bedroom and headed for the telephone in the adjoining room. When he returned, he leaned over and kissed Laura very tenderly. The kiss lingered.
“I’ve called the airlines,” he finally said. “Your flight’s still set for ten. It’s going to Chicago first. That’s the best they can do. The first direct flight to Detroit doesn’t leave until three this afternoon, if it takes off at all today with everything being so backed up. I think you should go via Chicago.” David’s voice was resigned and forlorn.
Laura reached for him and nodded silently. What if she didn’t go back? What if she stayed just one more night?
“Laura, you know I don’t want you to go,” David said, echoing her longing. “Could you stay one more day?”
Tears flooded Laura’s eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.” She threw her arms around David then, clinging to him. Her whole world had changed.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Snake Rogers was used to having his way with women. He was starting to live the American dream. Carried a piece. A real artist. A real job. Prospects to deal drugs on the side. But he was prepared to wait on Johnny and Anthony’s little sister. Stacy was something special. He wanted to make her proud.
When he’d barged in tonight he’d planned to let her know he was a man, show her the piece, teach her a lesson about dissin’ Snake. But he could never hurt her. Scare her, sure. But when it came to takin’ her, he wasn’t gonna force it. Don’t matter if she don’t give it up the first time. Keep pursuin’ her. She’d be his woman, just wait and see.
Trying not to crush her with his weight, he lay on her, angled close enough to feel every breath, every heartbeat, and he never wanted it to stop. As he kept murmuring that he would never hurt her, she stopped resisting and Snake was sure that she was enjoying herself.
“I’m gonna take care of you forever, baby.”
When a pair of detectives arrived in the residential neighborhood of Highland Park around eleven on Friday night, the streets were calm and quiet. One, a tall, lanky man with watery blue eyes named Kaminsky, and his partner, a tense black detective named Willard, proceeded to the scene without haste. Scowling, Willard was annoyed at being summoned on a call usually assigned to patrolmen. It had something to do with his partner Reynolds who was out sick. Exactly what, he didn’t know. Probably just a prank call from a kid.
“What exactly did dispatch say anyway?” Willard asked.
“A kid, as in little kid. Said somebody was hurting his babysitter. Said the guy had a gun.”
“Hurting her how, like what is this guy supposed to be doing? And who lives here anyway?”
Kaminsky shrugged.
“Leave the heater running while we run a check on the name and address,” suggested Willard.
Kaminsky bobbed one of his legs as he gulped down the last dregs of cold coffee from a Tigers mug. He picked up the radio and cal
led in.
“No shit? Reynolds has a special alert on this address?” Kaminsky stiffened as he hung up the radio.
“What is it, ’Minsky?”
“John Reynolds wants a heads-up anything happens here. Homeowners name is Nelson: Stephen and Laura.”
“Nelson?” Willard repeated. “Rings a bell.” He frowned as he glanced out at the house. “Laura Nelson? Oh yeah. Goes to med school with Reynold’s daughter. Reynolds thinks she knows something about a homicide case. Cold case. ’67 riots.”
Kaminsky’s eyes widened. “I questioned a Nelson a couple years ago when I was on with Reynolds. A young couple, that’s all I remember. How many Nelsons you figure live in Detroit?”
“Plenty. But how many on Reynold’s hit list?”
“The med student did it?” Kaminsky laughed.
Willard frowned. “Don’t laugh. Reynolds thought so.”
“No shit. Another thing. Central got another call on this address after we dispatched. Baby-sitter’s mother. Said there was no answer here when she called almost an hour ago. She’s been trying ever since.”
Willard checked his watch. “Let’s go!”
“What the fuck?” Snake’s head jerked up, interrupted by the buzz of the doorbell. “Who the fuck is that?”
Loud knocks at the front door followed a repeat buzz.
“A neighbor?” Stacy guessed.
“You better not be fuckin’ with me, baby,” he said, sliding off Stacy.
“I’m not,” Stacy shook her head. “Just get out of here. Go out the back door. The way you came in. Go, go.” Stacy was up now, tugging at Snake. “Oh no, there’s broken glass all over the dining room floor. I was going to sweep it up.”
Behind her, Snake grabbed for the gun he’d left on the end table. “My piece? Where the fuck is my piece?”
“What?” Stacey responded. “Your gun? Get it and get out.” A look of desperation shot across her face as she followed the source of Snake’s menacing gaze. It led to the top of the stairs.
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