In This Life

by Leo Sullivan

  “I never meant to hurt you,” she said with a pained expression. “I never meant you any harm and neither did Billy. At first he tried to make you leave… I was against harming you. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, and the idea of having you for a bodyguard was irresistible. They were going to get you the same night you dropped me off at my hotel suite, but I wouldn’t let you leave in the limo. I took you in and tried to seduce you…to save your life.” Her eyes were filled with tears, pleading. “Freddy, do you remember that night?”

  “Yeah, I remember” he said with a look of disdain. “I remember y’all tried to kill me that night,” he said sarcastically.

  “I didn’t know they--” Marilyn stopped too late.

  “They? They who?!” He raised his voice. Marilyn took a shuddering step back, running a nervous hand through her hair. “So you’re playing both sides of the field, huh?” he asked. She opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. “What was you plannin’ this time?” He prodded at her weak resistance. “To come here, seduce me, get what they sent you for and leave me to die?” He laughed loudly, his eyes cold as steel.

  His laughter stopped abruptly and his face turned to granite. “Since my father died and my mother was taken away, I ain’t never had shit. Just come up from the dirt like everybody else in the ghetto, and now I got a toehold, they send you, a black woman, to get me. The only problem is, I don’t mind goin’ back to the dirt, even if it means dying. What do I have to lose? What is a black life worth? What is a niggaz life worth? But I swear to God, I’ma take you, the Senator and Billy Dawson with me. We all gon’ say hi to Lucifer together. You make sure you tell them they underestimated this young nigguh. I don’t have shit to lose but my life, and right now, that ain’t worth much.”

  He peeked out the curtains again, and then turned back to her. “Your car is waiting. Don’t forget what I told you.”

  Huffing indignantly, she turned on her high heels and headed for the bedroom, retrieving luggage that she had not come with. She looked closely at Freddy, seeking any sign of weakness. There was none. “I guess they underestimated you,” she heard herself reason out loud.

  “No, like you, they overestimated themselves,” he retorted, his words a pie in her face that she could not duck. He turned back to the window with a dismissive wave of his hand, end of conversation. Her high heels swooshed across the carpet. “Marilyn,” he said as she opened the door, “tell them all I have is my mothafuckin’ balls and my word and I’ll die for either one.”

  “Go to hell,” she hissed as she slammed the door.

  “Sasha stepped from the darkness of the hallway dressed in one of Freddy’s t-shirts. The morning sun cast radiant slits of light on her face through the blinds as she padded over to him in her bare feet. Freddy’s intent vigilance at the window disturbed her. She rubbed her body against him, making him flinch with surprise. She laid her face against his naked back, willing him her energy and strength. Her words murmured against his flesh. “Your heart is beating so fast,” she whispered.

  No response.

  “How long do we wait?”

  “As long as it takes,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

  “What about her?”

  “What about her?” he echoed.

  “When I was about to beat her ass, she told me that they paid her to set you up…and how she now regretted it and that now the Lord is her Savior…” Sasha made a face.

  Freddy spun and grabbed her, holding her at arms length. “Sasha! This is dangerous, you gotta take it serious! The only reason she gave you that expensive ring and access to all this,” gesturing with his hands, “this condon, the car, the watch is because she’s gambling on our naivety. A very powerful man is behind all this, and what I have belongs to him.”

  “Well, give it back then,” Sasha said timorously.

  “I can’t. I know too much… Besides, now there’s too much at stake.”

  “Who’s Billy Dawson,” she asked.

  Freddy sighed, blowing air through his teeth. “That’s the man who shot me,” he said reluctantly.

  She pulled away from him, her face screwed up in contempt. “You told me you didn’t know who shot you,” she said accusingly.

  He just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “I lied.”

  He peeked out the window once more. The sedan was gone, and so was Marilyn.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Two weeks dragged by uneventfully. When the scheduled day arrived, they decided to take a taxi to the rendezvous in the elegant Water Towers Mall to meet Dr. Utomo. Sasha and Freddy held hands as they rode the futuristic glass-bubble elevator up to the seventeenth story. The breathtaking view revealed a magnificent structure, the loggia opening onto a gigantic atrium with a waterfall cascading 60 feet into a colorful lagoon surrounded by a verdant jungle of exotic tropical plants. Shoppers became scurrying wildlife as they rose.

  Sasha squeezed Freddy’s hand as they entered the exclusive restaurant. The first thing she noticed was that there wasn’t a black face in sight. The maitre d’ was on them in a hurry.

  “Do you have a reservation, eer, uhmm…sir?” he said to Freddy with his nose in the air.

  “Naw, I’m here to meet somebody.”

  “Sir, this is the lunch hour and we are very crowded. Perhaps you would like to meet your party on the floor below at McDonalds…?” The face of the maitre d’ was puckered in that we-don’t-want-your-kind-in-our-establishment look.

  In walked a handsome couple and the maitre d’ greeted them with an officious smile, bowing his head deferentially. “We would like a table for two,” was all the man said.

  “Why certainly, sir,” the glorified water obliged. “Please, follow me.”

  As the couple passed, they complimented Sasha’s outfit, but Freddy returned their cordiality with a growl. “Stop that,” Sasha chastened him, placing her had on his arm.

  “Did you see that?” Freddy complained.

  “Please don’t spoil this, her eyes pleaded. She thought about the past weeks they had been cooped up in that condo. “This is beautiful, and I want to enjoy it,” Sasha said, her face glowing with anticipation.

  Freddy looked at her like she was crazy. “Enjoy what? Being treated like a second-class nigga?” She squeezed his arm firmly. He rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in surrender.

  Sasha motioned for the maitre d’, who appeared and rudely asked, “What?”

  Freddy flinched, balling up his fist, but determined to maintain his composure for Sasha’s benefit.

  Sasha spoke politely a she removed a large roll of bills from her purse. Freddy patted his pockets and cursed under his breath. She smiled sweetly at both of them. “We are expecting a third party, but we are terribly pressed for time. Could you possibly find a table with a view overlooking the city?” she said as she discretely handed him a hundred-dollar bill. The man flashed a plastic smile but took the money and led them to a spacious table with a splendid view of the lake.

  Freddy watched all of this with amazement. He had never heard Sasha speak so properly or in such a cultured tone. Sasha radiated an aura of happiness that is unique to pregnant women. “Sasha, why’d you give that damn man all that money…my money?”

  “It’s only money,” she said, peeking out the window with trepidation, as if she might fall through the glass.

  Freddy could tell the view dazzled her, but he was still pissed. She took one look at his grim expression and burst out in laughter. In fact, the atmosphere was relaxing, and he found himself blushing. Sasha had a way of doing that to him.

  A waiter approached with a pair of menus. Freddy pretended to read a folded newspaper that he had brought with him. His eyes darted frequently to the entrance.

  When Dr. Utomo entered the restaurant, Freddy waved him over. After the doctor was seated, they exchanged warm greetings. Sasha could see the sincerity in the doctor’s eyes.

  Utomo had twice saved Freddy’s life. Freddy
reminded the doctor of the son he had lost in Africa, murdered at the hands of white supremacists while playing in the back yard.

  The doctor got right down to business. “I checked on your mother’s situation, as you asked, and there may be reason for concern.” He stopped, his eyes questioning whether he should continue in front of Sasha. Freddy nodded for him to go ahead. “It seems that someone has gone to great lengths to hire Dr. Hartrzman, and like I told you on the phone, he is very expensive and possibly involved with some very shady practices—“

  “Who hired him?” Freddy interrupted.

  “I don’t know. Since calling his office and inquiring about your mother, he has refused to speak to me. Lately, people have been snooping around my home and the hospital as well.”

  “I knew it! I knew it!” Freddy banged his fist on the table as the waiter returned to take their orders, a look of disquiet in his eyes. When the waiter left, Freddy tried passing the folded newspaper to the doctor, but Utomo declined. “Take it! There’s something inside.”

  Utomo opened the paper. “What the hell,” he said, his eyebrows knotting as he looked closer. He turned to Freddy and asked, “Is this who I think he is?”

  Freddy nodded somberly.

  “What the hell is that, a cat or a dog? Good Lord!”

  Freddy watched the doctor’s reaction and his stomach turned. Just sharing the secret of what he possessed and witnessing the overwhelming effect was enough to let him know he was in way too deep.

  “Lemme see,” Sasha chirped in.

  Freddy ignored her. The less she knew, the better. “There’s more, lots more,” he said with confidence.

  Slowly, the doctor closed the paper, looking about apprehensively. “How did you get your hands on this? He is one of the most powerful men in America, and one of the richest.” The doctor placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward, looking worried, a look that became imprinted forever in Freddy’s mind. “How did you get these?” Utomo again asked, his tone suddenly harsh. The way a father would talk to a recalcitrant son.

  “I…I…” Freddy stuttered. Sasha leaned forward in her chair, the suspense bullying its way in. “Turn to the sports section, page B-3,” Freddy instructed.

  Utomo fumbled with the paper nervously as he gazed about at the other patrons of the restaurant. A tattered and yellowed document fell halfway out the paper, the doctor catching and then reading it. “What is this, a land deed?” he asked, puzzled. He reached into his jacket and removed a pair of reading glasses, examining the document carefully.

  The waiter returned with their orders as the doctor closed the paper back around the deed. He stared intently at Freddy as the reality of what he had just read soaked into his brain. If true, the implications could prove devastating. Silence hovered over the table like a cloak, all motion arrested. Except for Sasha. She ate like it was her first meal in days.

  Freddy’s brown eyes seemed to be in a trance, staring out into the restaurant at nothing. Licking his lips, he began to speak in a painful monotone. Sasha’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth. “My mother…used to bring me here--” Something like a smile appeared on his lips, but his eyes were clouded with memories of the past and his mother’s love. “--on Fridays, when she got paid, she would sneak me out of school. We’d play hooky…we never told Dad. She would bring me here two or three times a year--”

  Freddy shook his head, breaking free of the bonds of the past. Sasha continued to stare at him, mouth agape. He turned to Dr. Utomo. “Ya know, I’m not sure I’ll make it to see my eighteenth birthday,” his lips quivered, “but one thing fo’ sho’, I’ma die fightin’ for whatever belongs to my family and for what I believe in. My mamma is innocent and I’ma get her outta that place and revenge my father’s death. I swear to God!” His voice went up an octave. Sasha put her fork down and reached across the table, caressing his hand affectionately. “I think I have the proof right there,” Freddy said, pointing at the newspaper.

  As if on second thought, the doctor opened the paper and again began reading, this time as if to ask a question. His curiosity finally got the better of him. “Robert Thugstin” he asked.

  “That was my father,” Freddy answered, “and Willie Thugstin was my grandfather.”

  The doctor read on, and for the first time, his voice took on a hint of excitement. “Wow! 80 acres of land,” the doctor exhorted loudly, his eyes fixed on the deed as he studied a listing of dates going back to 1893. The doctor’s mind churned. “If this is the same Williams family, and you are truly a Thugstin, then it is quite possible that you or your mother is the heir to the land.” Utomo removed his glasses, hit with a sudden thought. “However, since your mother has been declared legally mentally unstable, you would be the beneficiary of the estate. The only problem is that you have to be over eighteen years old to inherit, and if something were to happen to you before then…” The doctor’s voice trailed off as he leaned forward and asked, “Who all knows about this?” Where did you get this deed?”

  Freddy told him about the escapade with the actress Marilyn Fox and how he had encountered the weird Senator Williams. He explained about the jewels and an old foreign newspaper clipping that told of their ancient theft from Egypt.

  Utomo shook his head thinking, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” If he had not personally saved the boy’s life, no not one, but two separate occasions, he might have thought the boy a liar. “If those jewels can be authenticated as being from the Royal Scepter of Cleopatra, they are worth a fortune. Perhaps the Egyptian Embassy would be willing to pay a reward. I have some associates there… Would you like me to contact them?”

  Freddy nodded his head yes. Sasha was now eating the untouched lobster from his plate, as well as the doctor’s salad. When the waiter returned she politely asked for a doggie bag. She was leaving nothing behind.

  The doctor raised a single eyebrow at Freddy, and Freddy read his mind. “Yes, they know,” he said, glancing toward the front of the restaurant.

  Utomo sat straight up in his seat. “They know you have this stuff?”

  Freddy held up his wrist, displaying the Rolex. He explained Marilyn’s visit and the offer of a quarter-million dollars.

  “Freddy, I’m going to have to advise you to go to the authorities.” These unexpected words exploded like a bomb in the middle of the table. Sasha scooted back, making eye contact with Freddy, indicating she was ready to leave.

  “Fuck the police,” he hissed. “The authority! Them is the very people I been runnin’ from. No disrespect to you Doc, but if you’re not with me, you’re against me.” His words hung heavily in the air. “If the Senator is the uh-thor-it-tee,” Freddy drone, “then when I’m found hangin’ in my cell with my hands tied behind my back and a suicide note jammed between my teeth, is that who you’re gonna tell?”

  Utomo just stared at him, at a complete loss for words. He knew the boy’s statement was more than valid in a world where the rich thrive off the poor…

  “The only reason I’m not in jail already or lying at the bottom of Lake Michigan with a boulder tied to my ass is because they see me with influential people--”

  The doctor’s eyes bulged in realization and his mouth fell open as he replied, “So that’s why you had me meet you here in this conspicuous setting?” You’re using me as a decoy!”

  Freddy didn’t reply, but Utomo read his guilt. “The more people you are seen with, the less likely they will try to harm you?”

  Freddy just shrugged his shoulders.

  “Did you ever stop to think that you could get me killed,” the doctor asked, disgruntled?

  “Why would they want to kill you?” Freddy asked.

  “Why wouldn’t they?” So, now you have me as a sitting duck, entangled in your web of thievery and--”

  “No, Doc. I just need your help… Help me understand what to do with these papers and the jewels and everything…”

  “What’s in it for me?” the doctor asked, leaning forward in his seat
once again. His statement caught Freddy off guard. “Got him,” he thought.

  “Half,” Freddy offered. Sasha kicked him so hard she knocked bark off his shin. “Ouch!”

  Utomo looked at both of them strangely. Sasha’s tight lips said it all--she was angry.

  Freddy rubbed his sore leg as he continued, “Doc, I need for you to find out what’s going on with my mother, and to also get in contact with the Egyptian embassy to see if there’s a reward. If so, I’ll give you half.” He glanced over at Sasha, who rolled her eyes as if to say, “Dumb!”

  The waiter brought their check, but they continued to talk in hushed tones for nearly two hours. Suspense hung heavy over the table, but Sasha just sat there, full as a tick. Finally, the maitre d’ approached. “May I take care of the bill for you?” Hand on hip, impatience written all over his face. Sasha wondered if he was gay.

  “Allow me,” the doctor said graciously, reaching for his wallet.

  “No! Hell naw!” Freddy said boisterously, savoring this moment to get even for the racist move the man had tried earlier. “If I give yo’ ass another dime, Popeye was a FAGGOT!” Freddy said it so loudly the man actually cringed, his jaw dropping to his chest.

  The doctor squirmed in his chair uncomfortable.

  “Didn’t my lady give you a hundred-dollar bill?” The maitre d’ looked around as if to say, “He couldn’t be talking to me.”

  “Well, take our bill outta that. And bring me my damn change back…boy.” Freddy held his hand out, mumbling something about white folks’ restaurants. The maitred’ scurried off, embarrassed and mad as hell.

  “Freddy! Boy, I don’t believe you just did that,” Sasha screeched. “Can’t take your ghetto ass anywhere.”

  The doctor peered in bewilderment at Sasha, a mere child who was about to have a child, and Freddy, a boy trying to act like a man. He also looked around and noticed that the whole restaurant was watching. They were the only black folks in the place. Embarrassed, the doctor inhaled deeply before speaking. “You should be safe, at least until after the Presidential election. Right now, the Senator can’t run the risk of this kind of exposure. It would be political suicide and one of the biggest scandals in American history.” Again, he shook his head in shock at the magnitude of what was happening. “Has he gotten in contact with you yet?” Utomo asked.