After high school, Ebony and I went to John Jay College. She majored in criminal justice, and I studied law. Both of us used Akeem’s death as motivation and graduated at the top of our classes.
Once we were finished with college, Ebony went straight to the police academy with one goal in mind: rising through the ranks and making real changes within the NYPD.
I was a financially struggling public defender with a good case record. Seeing that I was struggling, Jalen’s mom asked me for my resume and begged the partners at the firm she worked at to hire me. I worked my ass off so I wouldn’t embarrass her, and every day, I made sure to hug and kiss her to show my appreciation.
Ebony and I moved on from Queensbridge to a nicer neighborhood in a condo in Jamaica Estates. Queensbridge made me who I was, and I could never forget it. It taught me how to adapt to whatever surroundings I was in, and it showed me that there were good people that lived in these neighborhoods. It made me street smart and book smart, but most importantly, the lessons I learned from this community gave me the motivation to become a lawyer.
* * *
The basketball bounced against my leg, interrupting my train of thought and instantly pulling me back to the present.
“You ready to get this game in, or are you just gonna sit there and daydream all day?” Shakir asked.
I smiled and said, “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 8
Ebony
Temptation
After talking to what felt like a million people about the murders, I flopped down on the beat-up brown leather sofa in the lounge at my precinct. I’d been so busy handling things at the hospital and crime scene that I forgot to clean off the dried blood all over my trembling hands and uniform. It was so fucking hard doing this job every day. I woke up, put on this uniform, and went to work with the intention of making the world a better place, but sometimes, I felt the world was so damaged that it was beyond repair.
I took out my notes for the lieutenants’ test I was studying for and started reading. The TV played in the background, and I heard the channel go from a commercial to a press conference with the police commissioner. The reporter’s voice pulled my thoughts off my notes and brought my attention to the news conference.
The commissioner was standing in front of a podium loaded with microphones at the murder scene. Reporters listened closely as the commissioner gave the details of the case so far. The commissioner said, “At approximately two fifteen this morning, officers responded to the corner of Gansevoort and Washington Streets and found the perpetrator standing over the bodies of two of the victims, brandishing a weapon while allegedly having the blood of the couple on his body and clothing. Two officers were also killed during the incident when they were attempting to exit their vehicle. The perpetrator opened fire on the patrol car, and the officers passed away when they were en route to being rushed to Bellevue Hospital. When the second group of officers approached the suspect, Mr. Brown fled and resisted arrest when he was apprehended. As of now, Mr. Brown is being held without bail at Rikers Island, and the suspect has denied killing any of the victims.”
I took a deep breath as I tried to rein in my thoughts and focus back on my study material. Rashida, my partner, walked into the lounge. “You all right, boss?” she asked.
“I’m hanging in there.”
“I’m gonna head home... Maybe you should too.”
“I am. I just needed to sit down for a sec. I’m trying to keep my mind occupied by studying.”
“I know how you feel. I’m drained all around too.”
Rashida Harrell had been my partner since day one. She was what I called a triple minority: black, a woman, and a lesbian—all the things society hated. Rashida was light-skinned, with a slender, sexy figure, dreads, and a no-nonsense attitude that matched mine. She was one of my best friends.
“Some of us are going to the Delancey around six tonight for drinks,” she said. “After everything we’ve been through last night, we all need to unwind. You think you can put off studying for one night and come with us?”
“Who is going to be there?”
“So far, me, Rayna, and Morgan.”
“The rookie, Rayna Osborne?”
“Yup. I hung out with her last week. She kissed a girl, and she liked it,” Rashida joked. “I found out she’s gay too. Now I’m trying to see if I can get her to do more than just kiss me.”
I laughed and said, “TMI. So, Morgan is going to be there too?”
“I told him I was going to ask you to come out tonight, and he said he’d be there. Can you at least make an appearance? It’ll make my courting Rayna so much easier if she’s relaxed and having a good time with us.”
“I’ll try. Let’s see how I feel after I get some sleep.”
“Well, hurry up and go home so you can rest and come out with us tonight,” Rashida said, pulling me up off the couch and helping me to my feet.
“All right.”
* * *
As soon as I got home, I jumped in the shower, grateful that the nightmare of an evening I had last night was over. I turned on the faucet, and the hot water spewed from the showerhead. I leaned against the wall and let the water cascade down my weary body. Billy was on my mind. He hadn’t called me yet, but there was also another man on my mind: Morgan. Morgan St. Clair was another sergeant at my precinct, and I couldn’t lie. I was attracted to him. Morgan was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He was around six foot six, with a rich espresso complexion. He was built like a fitness model and had dimples that could light up a room. We often joked that we were each other’s work spouses, but neither of us could deny there was an attraction between us. Despite our flirty exchanges, he knew I’d never cheat on Billy. At least, I thought he did.
At times, when the stress of my job was too much, he helped me cope and handle things. He was just as into giving back to minority communities as I was. He was smart, driven, and had the same goal of rising in the ranks as I had. We were steady study partners for the lieutenants’ test that was coming up in two months. Often, we’d meet up at the library at the police academy and drill each other with questions. I saw in his eyes that even though he knew I’d never cheat on Billy, he wanted to drill me in other ways. Morgan was single and very popular with women, and while he was a bit of a player, he was always honest and open with me, and vice versa.
We had in-depth conversations regularly whenever we were alone in the lounge at the precinct. One of those conversations that made me question everything about myself and my relationship happened last week.
* * *
“So, I gotta ask, how are you so Afrocentric and dating a white boy? That’s like an oxymoron.”
I laughed. “I love Billy. He’s my soul mate. Besides, I plan to marry a man that is smart, loyal, loving, attentive, and supportive. Billy is all of those things, and the last time I checked, those characteristics weren’t attached to a specific race.”
“I hear that,” Morgan said.
“Honestly, though, when I see Billy, I don’t see his race. He grew up with me in Queensbridge, so he isn’t your typical white guy.”
“He might be conscious of black plights, but he’s still white,” Morgan said. “Plus, I know he’s not holding it down like a brotha.”
I blushed and chuckled. “I’m very satisfied. Billy holds it down in the bedroom. I have no complaints in that department.”
“So, you’re telling me he pleases you better than all the brothas you dated in the past?”
“I wouldn’t know. I never dated a brotha.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, playfully punching him in the arm.
“Look at you like what?”
“Like that. Like ‘oh, you’re one of those.’ You know, the type that talks pro-black but doesn’t live that lifestyle. I see that expression on people’s faces every time I take Billy with me to my community events.”
“I’m not j
udging you,” he said.
“Uh-huh. I see that look on your face.”
He smiled. “Well, my dear, of course, you don’t know any better. Ignorance is bliss. You can’t miss something you never had.”
That conversation made me question a lot of things. Did people view me as a hypocrite when I did community events? Was it possible to be pro-black and date outside my race? But another question that I didn’t want to admit that I was curious about was: by settling down and dating Billy so young, did I do myself a disservice by not seeing what else was out there?
I knew I shouldn’t let questions like those influence me or my feelings toward my relationship with Billy, but I felt them seeping into my subconscious, and it fucked with me.
I felt stupid for even thinking about those things, but all I knew was my relationship with Billy. I didn’t have experiences with other men or boyfriends to compare him to. Billy had been my one and only since I lost my virginity to him our senior year in high school.
The war inside my mind was fucking with me. I put all my energy into studying until I fell asleep.
Several hours later, Billy called me. He told me he was letting Mrs. Wilson have the night off from taking care of his mom. He explained that he got assigned a big case, and if he did well, he’d make partner. I figured that was the reason he gave Mrs. Wilson the night off. He probably felt he could win the case, and wanted to tell his mom the news. Since he wasn’t going to be home anytime soon, I figured that gave me the green light to relax and go out with Rashida. It was time to get ready.
Chapter 9
Ben
Blessings
We arrived at Becky’s parents’ house. Their butler, Bernard, greeted us at the door and escorted us to the dining room.
“Hey, Dad. Hey, Mom.”
Susan hugged Becky and gave me a light peck on the cheek.
Mr. Preston greeted us with a faux grin, hugged Becky, and grudgingly gave me a weak handshake.
“Glad to see you could make it, Ben,” he said nonchalantly.
“I’m glad I could make it. Mr. Preston, can I talk to you about something later?”
He looked at me skeptically. “Sure thing.”
Becky leaned over and asked me, “What do you have to talk to him about?”
“Nothing. Just man stuff.”
She smiled. “You’re up to something.”
I gave her a quick kiss.
We sat down at the table, and as usual, Becky tried to impress her parents by telling them about my recent accomplishments and successes, but they were unmoved. She told them about my new case and how important it would be for my career.
“Ben has been working so hard at his firm that he was given that case that’s all over the news.”
“What case is that, dear?” Susan asked.
“You know, the one with the rapper that killed the two cops and gay couple. He’s being considered for partnership.”
For once, Mrs. Preston looked impressed by the news. “That’s wonderful!”
Mr. Preston grunted and faced me. “Who else is up for consideration?”
“Bill, another lawyer who has also been winning a lot of cases for the firm,” I said.
“Let me guess: Bill is white.”
“Not that it matters, but yes.”
Mr. Preston sighed. “Of course, you wouldn’t think it matters. Are there any black partners in your firm?”
“No, but—”
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter how hard Bill works. You’ll end up getting the position over him. That’s how things work nowadays.”
Becky squeezed my hand, attempting to keep me calm while he continued.
“You’ll get it automatically because you’re black, and the white guy will probably never move up in your firm.” Mr. Preston snickered. “The media is always talking about white privilege, but the only privilege I see is with you people.”
I curled my bottom lip to hold my tongue from cursing him out. He was part of the reason why I worked so hard. He fueled my endless motivation. Every day I busted my ass to show people like him that black people weren’t just thugs, criminals, and drug addicts. I wanted to prove to him and other small-minded individuals that my people were sophisticated, intelligent, and just as good as his were. Even though I knew he believed his race was superior, I wanted him to see there was no difference or gap between us. I was equally as capable and as smart as anyone in his race.
“You know what you minorities will never understand?” Mr. Preston asked me.
“What would that be, sir?”
“Steven—” Mrs. Preston said.
“No, society coddles minorities too much. He needs to hear this, Susan.” He faced me. “You people always want more and think things should be equal. When does it end? I’m not blind. I know that right now, white people hold the majority of power in this country, but why should we give it up? We built this country—”
“Off the backs of those minorities you’re talking about,” I said.
“Regardless of that, it was white men who built this country, and if minorities had it their way, they’d push white people out of power and make us the minority. While that’s good for you and your people, what about my race? Why would I want to see a shitty world like that?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad world. It would be how races should be treated in this world: equal.”
“Again, you’re still not grasping, how does that benefit me as a white person?”
“You wouldn’t feel good doing what’s right?”
“Please, don’t talk to me about morals,” he said. “You’re getting paid well to represent a murderer, and I’m sure as an attorney, you’ve manipulated the law plenty of times to benefit your firm when you knew it wasn’t morally right. The same rules apply to me. I’m not worried about your race or any other minority. I’m concerned about my own benefit.”
He laughed and said, “Frankly, as a white man, I don’t give a shit about minorities killing each other. It’s one less mouth on welfare mooching off of my tax dollars.”
Becky rested her hand on my thigh to calm me.
Before things got out of hand, I said, “Let’s just agree to disagree.”
“Ben, that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night,” he said.
After listening to Mr. Preston talk for a good two hours about how he was so happy to see Obama out of office and proud to have a strong, wealthy white man back in the White House again, he finally shut up and asked me to speak with him privately.
“Ben, while the women gossip, let’s go into my study so we can talk, man to man.”
I nodded and followed him.
As soon as the door shut, Mr. Preston stopped smiling.
“Have a seat, Ben. We can drop the bullshit now. You know my daughter can’t hear us in here.”
I sat down. Mr. Preston leaned back in his black leather executive chair, lit a cigar, and blew the smoke in my direction.
“Now, what do you want?” he asked and took another long puff on his cigar.
“I won’t beat around the bush. I love Rebecca, and I wanted to ask you for your blessing when I ask her to marry me.”
He laughed at me. “Absolutely not. I’ve entertained this phase she’s going through and put up with your sham of a relationship for years because I love my daughter, but there’s no way in hell I’d allow you to ever marry her. No matter what you do, you’ll never be good enough for my daughter.”
“Why is that? I’m no slouch. I’ve worked hard all my life, and I’ve always done well—”
“You people are all the same. You might be wrapped in a nicer package, but when it comes down to it, you’re no different from the other blacks I’ve met.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “I thought you were smarter than that. Do you need me to spell it out for you? OK, here goes. You’ve gone to prestigious schools, so you’re not a complete dummy. You have a decent job, and you drive around in a
nice car, but nothing will change the fact that you’re black. It doesn’t matter how many fancy degrees you have or how much money you make. You can’t change that fact. I don’t want my daughter to just do ‘well.’ If she married you, it would be a downgrade.”
“Downgrade? I work just as hard, if not harder, than you.”
“But you’re still black.”
“So?” I asked.
“I don’t want people in power to look at my daughter in pity when they know she’s married to you. If you were married, any children you had would be black, and I don’t want your race ruining my gene pool. I’d rather my daughter be a lesbian than marry a nigger. That might sound harsh to you, but I’m being honest.”
With his last comment, I stood up and headed for the door. My hand on the doorknob, I turned to him and said, “With your blessing—or without it—I love Becky, and nothing you say or do will stop me from asking her to marry me.”
“I’ll never let it happen.”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
The tragedy of it all was that I’d been law-abiding all my life, received an excellent education, a great career, and now I was rising to gain the American dream by being a black partner in a white-dominated firm, but in the eyes of many ignorant people like Mr. Preston, I would never be more than a nigger.
Chapter 10
Bill
Borrowed Time
After schooling Shakir and his friends on the basketball court, I called Ebony as I walked to my mom’s building.
“Hey, honey,” she said, sounding groggy.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Yeah, but it’s OK. Where are you?”
“I’m at my mom’s place. I’m giving Mrs. Wilson the night off. I feel bad that instead of going home and relaxing after working at the firm all day, she goes to take care of my mom.”
“She volunteers to do it. She said she doesn’t mind, and she enjoys spending time with your mom.”
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