The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  Boris was standing with a change of clothes for Nicola and the children. “Boss said for your family to meet him downstairs in thirty minutes.” He passed him the clothes. “Don’t be late,” he said, walking off.

  Nicola closed the door and leaned his head against the wall. Ivy slipped her hand from under the pillow and looked at him. “Good morning,” she said, voice groggy. Before he could respond, she jumped up from the bed and headed to the bathroom.

  Morning sickness. He couldn’t be happier to see it coming. It meant that she was still pregnant, still healthy and carrying his child.

  Putting down the clothes, Nicola followed her to the bathroom dutifully and bent over her to hold her hair as she threw up in the fine porcelain receptacle.

  “Let it out,” he said, rubbing her back.

  Ivy wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. “I should probably get something on my stomach. I’m sure the baby is hungry.”

  “So are you. I’ll get the kids dressed. You just lay down until we’re ready,” he said, helping her stand. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, holding her stomach. “Nothing I’m not used to.” Going to the double sink, she grabbed her toothbrush and ran the water. “I’ll help you get them up.”

  “Baby, you should rest,” he insisted. He knew that she had to be weak after losing all of her nutrients. He didn’t want her sick the entire day, especially before the flight.

  “No, I want to help,” she said, looking at him in the mirror. “I’ll be fine. I promise. We don’t have much time.” She willed herself to pull herself together.

  Twenty-five minutes later, Boris was back at the door waiting for them. Escorting them quietly through the hallway, he heard one of the twin boys ask about the guns under his arms. Ivy quickly hushed him and grabbed his hand. Taking them downstairs, he led them to the informal dining area where Dmitry sat reading a newspaper. Royal sat beside him, talking to a beautiful little girl who had a peachy hue and startling blue eyes like her father. Gabriel sat at the other end of the table, also reading a paper and flipping through his iPad.

  The long dinner table was covered with flowers, fruit, biscuits, sausage, eggs, pancakes, and several other pastries. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. It was a perfect way to start the day. As soon as the family entered the room, Dmitry put down his newspaper and stood. Walking over to Ivy, he took her hand in his own and smiled.

  “Mrs. Agosto, how are you this morning?” he asked, escorting her to a chair near him. He pulled out a seat and waited for her to sit.

  “Fine, thank you,” she muttered, looking back at her husband.

  Nearly speechless, she took in his monstrous size. He was easily seven feet tall and amazingly beautiful - too handsome to be a criminal and far too nice. He wore a tailored, crisp black shirt and black slacks. Evidently, he was an early riser. Nodding at Royal, who was also dressed in a black simple dress that only brought more attention to her tall, statuesque frame and fine jewelry, she felt completely underdressed.

  “Did you sleep well?” Royal asked as a maid poured her more coffee.

  “I did,” Ivy answered quickly. Dmitry pushed up her seat to the table and patted her back. “Agosto, please have a seat with your wife,” he said, going back to his chair at the head of the table.

  “And kids come over here. Aren’t you gorgeous,” Royal said, standing to receive the children. She admired each of them, running her hand through their delicious black curly locks.

  The children introduced themselves to the girl who watched the boys carefully. Royal couldn’t help but notice the child’s serious demeanor. Ivy drank in her beauty and her poise. The girl couldn’t be anymore than six, yet she behaved like an adult. Offering the boys a hand, she introduced herself as Anya Medlov then quickly went back to her breakfast.

  Ivy wondered what could have happened to the girl to make her so ice cold, but she wouldn't dare ask. Then there was the other man at the end of the table, who nodded at her but did not address her directly. Quietly, he ate his food with a blond woman at his side. He barely spoke to her either. Instead, he immersed himself in work and occasionally gave a courteous smile. But he too was incredibly tall. His dark hair contrasted with Dmitry’s but he looked so much like him until, she had to ask.

  “Who is he?” Ivy whispered to Dmitry, feeling unusually comfortable with the man.

  “He is my nephew, Gabriel. He’s a bit put off today, but he’ll be fine. And that is Briggy, his girlfriend. We’re all one big family here.” Dmitry watched Royal make his plate and then took it from her. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “You’re welcome,” Royal replied.

  “Well, we appreciate your hospitality,” Ivy said, looking over at Royal. “I slept like a rock in that cozy bed. And the kids slept well too. You’re really too kind.”

  “It’s the least that we could do considering how much you’ve been…put out,” Dmitry said, looking over the children. He tried to use his words carefully. “Please, enjoy breakfast. There is plenty.”

  Settling down for breakfast, the initial shock finally wore off. Nicola and Dmitry spoke briefly about the news and the coverage regarding the attack, while Royal and Ivy spoke about the babies. There were no awkward silences or moments, instead the morning flowed like clockwork. Royal continued to play the gracious hostess, while Dmitry played the gentleman. Ivy nearly forgot that she was having breakfast with a notorious crime boss and his family. Instead, they were just Nicola’s friends.

  When breakfast was over, Gabriel stood and walked over to Nicola. Wiping his eyes, he adjusted the guns holstered under his bulging biceps. “We have to get your family to the plane,” he said, looking at his watch.

  Nicola looked over at Ivy and rubbed her back. “We don’t have anything to take with us. We’re ready when you are.” He hated that his wife had to go away, but what else could he do.

  Royal walked over to Ivy and hugged her. “Take care. Good luck with baby number five.”

  “You too,” Ivy said, feeling as though she had made a friend. “Thank you again.”

  “Again, there is no need to thank us,” Royal said, motioning for her daughter. “I have to get upstairs and check on the children, so this is good bye for me, but I’m sure that we’ll be seeing each other again.” Glancing over at Nicola as her daughter took her hand, Royal nodded. “Mr. Agosto.”

  “Mrs. Medlov,” Nicola said as professionally as possible. He didn’t even pretend that the relationship that Ivy was building with Royal carried over to him and Dmitry. From here on, it would be strictly business.

  Dmitry cracked a smile at Ivy. He found her to be a breath of fresh air - so innocent and so caring. She was everything that he’d heard she was. Royal had gone on for quite some time the night before about the woman and her desire to see the family care for. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Agosto. When you return, your home will be restored.” He could feel his wife looking at him in approval.

  Ivy smiled at the thought. Somehow hearing him say the words, made it true.

  Four other heavily armed guards met the family and Gabriel in the foyer and escorted them out in the bright morning sun to a convoy of black Range Rovers with tinted windows parked right outside the house. Loading them up, they headed out to take Ivy and the kids to a plane on the outskirts of town in Millington to be flown to Miami where Nicola’s family would be waiting.

  When they were gone, Dmitry found Royal upstairs feeding the children with Briggy and a nanny. She looked up from doting on her son to watch her husband as he played with her daughter. “What plans do you have for Agosto?” she asked.

  Dmitry raised a brow. “Why do I have to have plans?” he asked, cutting his eyes at her.

  “Because you always do,” Royal said, putting down the baby’s snack. She rocked her son gently. “Do this without any intention of receiving anything in return, Dmitry.”

  He turned and looked at her. “Why should I?” he asked, putting his daughter on his lap.r />
  “Because you can,” she said seriously. “Because there is no need to turn everyone from their paths to suit you and your personal interests.”

  “Isn’t not turning him in your personal interest?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his deep baritone Russian voice.

  “I have nothing to gain from just helping them. There is not a personal interest involved,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just after what nearly happened to Anya, maybe this is God’s way of giving us an opportunity to pay it forward.”

  “Of course there is a personal interest for you. You like her. You want to save her,” Dmitry said, rubbing through his daughter’s hair while she played with her doll. She listened quietly, holding on to her father’s every word.

  “Just think about it,” Royal said, refusing to argue the point. “It’s worth a thought. This is an entire family that you’re playing with,” she stabbed.

  Dmitry didn’t like her choice of words. “I don’t play.”

  “No, darling, you don’t lose,” she said, putting the bottle back in her son’s mouth. “Now enough of this. We need to talk about Anatoly’s wedding. Where is he anyway?”

  “Busy,” Dmitry answered without further explanation.

  ***

  Ferris was shocked when he was told that despite him being in protective custody, he still had to be escorted to the police headquarters to answer questions about DeMario Washington. One would have thought that considering his home had been bombed and shot up that the investigation would have leaned toward other people - anyone but him. But Johnson had insisted.

  With his legs wrapped in gauze, Johnson sat in the interrogation room in shorts and black t-shirt, shield wrapped in a single black band out of respect for Carmen’s death, patiently waiting on Ferris to arrive. Steele sat on the other side of the booth, watching with Magnelli.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” Steele said, pacing the room. “Johnson is holding on by a very thin string.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Magnelli said, rubbing his temples. “But Johnson says that it’s worth it. So, we need to speak with Ferris.”

  “Let me do it,” Steele begged.

  “No.” Magnelli said shortly.

  Steele knew that Magnelli was not thinking clearly. How could he considering his own tragedy. “I’m not worried about Ferris. I’m worried about Johnson screwing this up by doing something monumentally stupid,” she said, leaning against the glass and looking at him. There was no way that she was going to leak that they had found those files, but she knew that they were close - too close to risk it.

  “If he can get any information out of him, then it’s worth it,” Magnelli said, sipping his coffee. His voice was flat and void of all life as was his eyes.

  She turned to look at him. He hadn’t slept a wink and it showed. Walking over she touched his shoulder. No words could express her sorrow for his loss. His only daughter was dead and his son was missing. But here he was pushing forward with the investigation. “If there is anything that I can do…” she whispered.

  Magnelli touched her hand. “Just do your job,” he said, coldly.

  She removed her hand quickly and went back to the glass just in time to see Ferris enter the room.

  Johnson looked up from the table and stood. “Councilman Ferris,” he said, offering his hand. “Thanks for coming in.”

  “I can’t say that I’m happy to be here,” Ferris said, looking around the small box of a room. “What is this about?”

  “It won’t take long. I’m sorry to drag you out but we were hoping that maybe you could shed some light on the situation with DeMario yesterday, since you were the last one to see him alive.” He pulled out Ferris’s chair. “Would you like some coffee.”

  “There is no need for pleasantries, Johnson. I’ve had quite enough of them already this morning. Ask your questions so that I can go.” He sat down and rolled his eyes.

  Johnson looked at the glass and ran his sweaty hands down his shorts. “Okay,” he said, grabbing his notepad and pushing the button to start the recording of the tape. “Did you know DeMario Washington before the attack on his life by Sgt. Agosto?”

  “No,” Ferris answered curtly.

  “Are you in anyway linked to the Baby Boys murders?” Johnson asked, looking Ferris in the eye.

  “What the hell kind of questions are these? Yes, of course I’m connected. I’m leading the public’s interest in demanding the Memphis Police Department find the murderer responsible for four deaths,” Ferris snarled.

  Johnson sucked his teeth and looked over at the mirror. “What about your relationship to all four children?”

  Ferris froze. “What relationship?”

  “The fact that all four children were formerly at your child care facilities is one relationship.” Johnson watched Ferris’s face as it told on him.

  “I wasn’t aware of that? If it’s so, then I’d be happy to help you in your investigation.”

  Johnson’s voice lowered and sweat started to form on his forehead. “Don’t you find it odd that you didn’t know that before? That you of all people would lead this charge when they were all children you had come into contact with?”

  “This interview is over,” Ferris snapped. “I want my lawyer.”

  “Why do you want a lawyer? Didn’t you just say that you’d be willing to help with this investigation? Don’t you find it odd that a hit was put on myself and Steele only after we talked with you? And Mooky, DeMario’s cousin was found dead, after we spoke with him. That’s all too coincidental for me.”

  Ferris attempted to stand but Johnson pushed him back into his chair. “Sit your punk ass down,” Johnson snarled. “And don’t get up again, or I promise you, you’ll regret it.”

  Steele panicked. “We need to pull him.”

  “Wait,” Magnelli said, standing up. He walked over to the glass. “Wait for it.”

  “Did you put a hit on us with your partner? He was going to take care of us while you wrap the city around your pampered finger and run for mayor on the back of the same children that you were fucking. Is that about right?” Johnson asked, getting in his face. “But you didn’t account for hiring fucking amateurs to do the job. So, you had to stage your own attempted murder.”

  Ferris had heard enough. “Now you listen to me. I won’t take these ridiculous accusations. What? You’re so inept at your job that you’re grasping for straws by accusing anyone in sight? I have worked in this city for years. I’m an upstanding citizen and public official. I will not be harassed by some low-level detective who couldn’t find a turd in a shit storm.” He went to stand again.

  Johnson reached into his cargo shorts and pulled out a field knife. Before Ferris could react, he grabbed the man’s wrist, pushed it to the table and stabbed the knife through his hand straight into the table. The sound of metal tearing through bone and flesh echoed throughout the room.

  Ferris screamed out at the same time that Steele went to the door to stop the investigation, but Magnelli held her down.

  Blood began to paint the table in large oozing patterns. Pushing the handle harder, Johnson pushed Ferris back down into the chair. “I thought I told you to sit your fucking ass down. The next time you move, this goes through your short cock, you piece of shit.” His nostrils flared, eyes blazed.

  Ferris screamed out for help, but the door did not open. No help came.

  “Give me a name!” Johnson spat. “Give me a fucking name!” He pulled his duty weapon and shot Ferris in the knee cap. “I will fill your ass full of holes if you don’t start talking and there is not a damn thing anyone here can do about it.” The door flung open but Johnson pointed it at the cop who came to Ferris’ aid. “Back the fuck up!” Johnson growled. “A name, Ferris, dammit!” he screamed. Twisting the knife in the man’s hand, he waited.

  “Sammy!” Ferris yelled. “I don’t have anything to do with it. I’ve just been paying people around the city to tell me anything that could solve the case and the onl
y thing that I’ve turned up is a drug dealer named Sammy and a cop, but I don’t know his name, and I don’t know the drug dealer’s last name…just Sammy.”

  Steele was at the door with the other cop now. “Detective Johnson,” she said, gun pointed at him. “Please put down your weapon.” She cocked her gun. “Dammit, don’t make me fucking do this, Luke! Put the gun down!” she begged.

  Johnson turned to Ferris and spit in his face. “I’m going to get you mother fucker. I promise you that. This isn’t over.” Dropping the gun, he raised his hands. “I need a shrink,” he said as the police came in and handcuffed him. “I don’t feel well.”

  “We’ll get you some help, son,” Magnelli said, walking through the door calmly. He looked at Ferris and spit on the ground. “Get this bastard some help in here,” he said, turning away.

  “I’m going to bury all of you!” Ferris yelled, holding his bloody hand as one of the cops pulled the knife out of his hand. “All of you!” As soon as his hand was free, he collapsed to the ground, knee throbbing and bleeding.

  Carting Johnson off, Steele cursed. “Fuck, Johnson. Why?”

  “Because it’s time that we start playing by the same rules as them until we get some answers. Carmen’s dead, Steele. She’s dead and she’s not coming back and someone has to pay for that.”

  Steele stopped walking and ran a hand through her hair. “But why does it have to be you?”

  Johnson smirked. “I could give less than a fuck about myself,” he said holding back tears.

  “I’ll take him,” Magnelli said, walking up to them. “Steele, go back and make sure that we get that recording to the right people.” He patted Johnson on the back and escorted him down the hall as officers looked on confused and in shock. “We’re getting close,” he said under his breath to Johnson. “I can feel it.”

  ***

  After Nicola and his entire family went missing, a meeting had to be convened by the police heads to decide what to do about his hearing. The mayor’s office had already called and strongly suggested that his case be strongly reconsidered and investigated to make sure that no foul play had taken place. And the media was swarming around anyone at the police department who could possibly have answers. On the twelfth floor of the police headquarters downtown, a group of officials met quietly, hoping to come to some resolution on the matter, so that they could get back to the many other fires that they had to put out quickly.