Influence

by Carl Weber

  “So, that’s Bradley Hudson?” O’Malley asked, walking up behind me.

  “Yep, that’s him, the black messiah of the legal world.” I’m sure I sounded a little bitter, and that’s because I was. The legend of Bradley Hudson was a fraud, and by the time this case was over, I was going prove it by putting his son behind bars.

  “So, how the hell did they post bond so quick? I mean, that was a million dollars bond.”

  “I suspect he knew there’d be a high bail, so he sent his son and daughter to do the arraignment while he made preparations to bail out his youngest kid,” I replied, leaning against the pillar and scanning the crowd. “Probably used one of his houses as collateral.”

  “Pretty smart,” O’Malley said.

  “He’s not stupid by any means, but neither am I.” I turned to look at him. “What about the other three?”

  “The African kid is at Rikers being processed, and the other two should be leaving in the next five or ten minutes.”

  “That’s good. Any sign of their parents yet?” I asked.

  “Nope, not a peep.”

  I was scanning the crowd again, mumbling to myself, “Where the fuck are you?”

  He stepped forward, following my gaze. “You looking for someone?”

  “Yeah, and I think I found her.” I watched as the rear door to the Rolls Royce opened and a familiar figure stepped out. Things were becoming more interesting by the minute.

  “Who is that?” he asked as we watched the woman hug Langston tightly.

  “The Honorable Jacqueline Robinson, Langston’s mother and Bradley Hudson’s ex-wife.”

  “Good-looking woman. She a judge?”

  “A federal judge—a very powerful federal judge. Some say she was on Obama’s short list for the Supreme Court.”

  “And you wanna fuck with them?” he asked.

  Once again, I fought the grin that I could feel spreading on my face. “O’Malley, I been waiting most of my adult life to fuck with them.”

  Desiree

  21

  I rode around my block for twenty minutes before I found a parking spot. I loved living in Harlem, but I hated the parking situation with a passion. I’d been thinking for a while about giving up my car and just taking Ubers instead, and every time I had to search for parking like this brought me one step closer to doing it.

  I sat inside the car for a few minutes, trying to garner enough energy to get out and walk the half block to my brownstone. To say I was mentally and emotionally drained would be an understatement. I was totally wiped out. I finally motivated myself with the idea of stripping off my clothes and taking a hot shower as soon as I walked through the door. I grabbed my briefcase from the back seat and stepped out. I had just hit the lock button on my car when I looked up and saw Jerri, front and center, standing on the curb, smiling at me. I damn near dropped my briefcase.

  “What the hell?” I blinked.

  “Surprise!” She walked over and reached out to hug me, but I took a step back.

  “Wha—what are . . . how . . . you . . . What are you doing here?” I asked, finally able to articulate a complete sentence. “How did you know where I lived?”

  “I was worried about you when I didn’t hear from you all day. And I’ve been known where you live for a while.” She had an irritated look on her face. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”

  “I guess you haven’t been watching the news. I had an emergency come up and wasn’t able to take your calls.” I started walking toward my brownstone.

  “So much of an emergency that you couldn’t answer my calls or call me back? I thought you said you were coming over when you got off work.” She had a lot of bass in her voice—enough to piss me off and make me decide that she didn’t deserve an explanation.

  “I said I would try,” I reminded her. I was way too tired for this.

  “I cooked dinner. We were supposed to do Netflix and chill, and you left me hanging. That’s fucked up, Des,” she said, taking big strides to keep up with me.

  “I know, and if my fucking brother hadn’t gotten arrested, I would have been there,” I finally snapped as we arrived in front of my building. “Now, what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” She softened her tone. “I didn’t know. Wow, that’s horrible. I’m sure your parents are upset, and you. I’m sorry, Des.” She stepped closer, and I allowed her to put her arm around my shoulder.

  “Now do you understand why I was unavailable and didn’t come over?”

  “Yeah, and I’m also glad that I’m here for you now. Come on, let’s get inside so you can relax. I know just what to do. You need one of my massages.” She tried to kiss me, but I moved away, glancing around the block.

  “Jerri, not here, okay,” I told her.

  “What do you mean, not here?” Jerri snapped. “Are you ashamed of me?”

  “No, but my parents own this building. Well, technically my mother does, since it was part of her divorce settlement. But I’m not the only one living here, and trust me, people talk.”

  “So?” She stepped closer. “Why do you care what people think?”

  “Because this is new for me, and I’m just getting used to it. I’m not ready to explain myself or us to the world. The last thing I need is someone telling my business.” I shrugged. “Especially now that all of this stuff is going on with Langston. It would be. . . a lot.”

  “I get it . . . I think. So, let’s go inside.” She reached for my hand and took a step toward the building, but I wouldn’t budge.

  “No, not tonight. You can’t just show up at my place and think it’s okay. My house is my safe place, where I get away from the world.”

  “So, I can’t even come in, not even as a friend?” Jerri looked hurt.

  I tried to smooth things over as best I could. “Jerri, now you know you wouldn’t be coming in as a friend. I’m not crazy, and you’re not either. You know what will happen if you come in.” I gave her a knowing smile and nudged her, and after a few seconds, she loosened up and grinned.

  “But it’s times like this that I want to show you that I can be a friend. It’s not just about sex for me,” she insisted.

  “I know it’s not, Jerri, and I appreciate that. I appreciate everything you do for me: your calls and texts, cooking those amazing meals, making me laugh, even finding my address and stalking me,” I teased. “But tonight, I just need time to reset, by myself. And as my real friend, I know you’ll understand and respect that.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. And I promise I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “A’ight. I’ll respect your need for some me time tonight. I’m really sorry about what happened to your brother, and you know if you need me, I’m just a phone call away.”

  I gave her a brief hug and was relieved when she didn’t try to kiss me. “Thanks, Jerri. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Jerri waited until I unlocked the door and stepped inside before she finally left. A few moments later, I opened the door and peeked out to make sure she was really gone. When I confirmed that she wasn’t lurking around in front, I closed the door and went into my dark and quiet apartment, heading directly into my bedroom without turning on any lights. I tossed my briefcase and phone onto my bed then stripped off my clothes, leaving them in the middle of my bedroom floor. My only goal was to take a hot shower, decompress, and wash the remnants of the day from my body.

  In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet in the tub, lit the two oversized candles on the vanity, and poured some lavender-scented body wash into the bath. When it was full and steam started to rise, I stepped into the marble tub and let the hot water envelop my body. The tension in my back and shoulders began to subside, and I leaned back to enjoy the sensation, trying to clear my mind of the events of this horrible day. Afterward, I went back into my bedroom, feeling better and smelling sweet. As I began rubbing lotion into my skin, realized that I was a little turned on.

&nbs
p; Maybe I should’ve let Jerri come inside, I thought, but I knew that would’ve been more trouble than it was worth. I’d meant what I said about my neighbors being nosy, and I hadn’t told anyone that I was seeing someone, let alone a woman. I don’t think I would ever be ready to tell anyone, especially when I wasn’t sure that the situation I was in with Jerri was really serious, or a temporary experience until I figured out what I truly wanted in a relationship.

  I stood and walked over to my dresser, reaching into my underwear drawer and fumbling until I found what I was looking for. Once it was in hand, I closed the drawer and headed out of the bedroom and across the hall. The room was dark and filled with the sound of the TV. I walked over to the bed and slipped under the cool sheets and beside the body lying in the center. As I snuggled closer, still holding my hand tightly so I wouldn’t drop the contents grasped inside, I heard a slight moan. I paused and used my free hand to roll the broad shoulders over and eased my body on top so that I was mounted. I could feel my wetness increasing as I anticipated what was about to happen. I leaned over and slowly began kissing from the neck to the chest, playfully biting nipples. Then, I felt the hard flesh against my inner thigh, and I smiled. The closed eyes that I had been staring at since entering the bedroom were now open.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, his baritone voice was raspy because of sleep.

  “You,” I said, moving his hands to my breasts so they now cupped them.

  “I thought you said you didn’t wanna do this anymore, remember?” He frowned.

  “I never said that.” I opened my hand so he could see what was inside.

  “You’re crazy, that’s exactly what you said.” His thumbs flickered across my hardened nipples, sending a sensation through my body and causing my center to throb even harder.

  “No, what I said was I didn’t wanna do us anymore. I never wanna stop doing this.”

  I handed him the condom I was holding, and without saying another word, he slipped it on. In one swift motion, he rolled me over and had my legs pinned, causing me to gasp as his swollen erection entered my inviting center, giving me everything I desired and erasing any thoughts I had of Jerri or my promise to call her before I went to bed.

  James

  22

  A light mist fell as a dozen NYPD cruisers, unmarked cars, and SUVs pulled up beside Detectives O’Malley and Cutter’s unmarked police car. I was seated in the back of their car, watching as multiple officers exited their vehicles in preparation to enter the building. A few minutes later, there was a squawking over the police radio, and O’Malley turned to me.

  “Everyone’s in place,” he said.

  “Okay, let’s move in,” I told him, picking up the folder from the seat beside me and getting out of the car.

  We headed into the building, avoiding the elevator for the stairs and stopping at the second floor. When I entered the corridor, there were officers standing on either side of a door. I glanced down at the paperwork in my hand. Building 6, Apartment 208. This was the place. I nodded my approval to Cutter, then handed him the paperwork as one of the uniformed men knocked on the door loudly.

  “Who is it?” a woman asked.

  “Police!” one of the officers yelled.

  We all waited, and a few seconds later, the door slowly opened.

  “What do y’all want?” The woman, who appeared to be in her forties, was very attractive in the simple black leggings and T-shirt she wore. Her short hair, a combination of blond and dark brown, was perfectly curled to frame her cute face. Her shape reminded me of Toni Braxton in a hood kind of way. Had I seen her in a social setting, I probably would’ve made a move on her. She wasn’t the marrying type, but she was definitely the fucking type. But, this was business that needed to be taken care of at the moment.

  “We have a warrant to search the property,” the officer told her, then pushed past her, followed by several others dressed in protective gear with guns drawn. Chances were the full regalia wasn’t needed, but you could never tell.

  “Clear! Clear! Clear!” I heard an officer yell from inside the home.

  “I don’t believe this shit!” the woman shouted, staring at the paper that Cutter had handed to her moments before. “Why the hell are y’all here?”

  I took her question as my cue, and I proceeded to the front door. “Ms. Baker?”

  “Who the hell are you?” She gave me a head-to-toe once-over, and I chose to ignore the look of disdain. I stepped inside the living room, where officers were going through papers and flipping couch cushions. I was surprised, because I’d never seen a home in any project building decorated like hers. She had a brand-new, state-of-the-art kitchen complete with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, and a living room that looked like a Raymour and Flanigan showroom. I felt like I was taking a tour of an HGTV fantasy home, ghetto edition.

  “Are all the apartments in this building like this?” I already knew the answer, but I couldn’t help it. I had to ask.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  I guess my question had struck a nerve.

  “I’m James Brown, and I’m an assistant district attorney,” I informed her.

  The daggers she shot my way told me that she wasn’t a woman I should turn my back on, or else I’d be pulling a knife out of it.

  “This is about Tony, isn’t it? I don’t know why y’all got my son locked up. He’s a good kid.” She shook her head. “Besides, he don’t even live here.”

  “This is his permanent residence, according to his driver’s license,” I stated very clearly. “He spent the last four nights here.”

  “Gun!” an officer yelled from the back of the house.

  Ms. Baker’s eyes were heavy with concern as O’Malley emerged a few moments later carrying a nine-millimeter handgun.

  “Uh-oh . . .” A smile crept up on my face. “What is the housing department going to say when we tell them about this?”

  “That’s not my gun!” She looked so nervous she began to shake.

  “Then whose is it?” I asked, pointing to the sofa. She picked up on the directive and went to sit down.

  I nodded toward O’Malley and the other officers, who went into another part of the house to continue their search.

  “Where’d the gun come from, Ms. Baker?” I stared at the nervous woman.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “We had a rent party the other day. It could be anybody’s.”

  “Is it Tony’s?”

  “My son doesn’t have a need for a gun. How many times I gotta tell you he’s a good kid?” She sounded agitated.

  “I’m sure you think your other boys are good kids, too, but we both know they aren’t.”

  “But you ain’t here about my other two boys, because you know they don’t come around here. You’re here about Tony, and he’s a good kid.” She was not easily intimidated. I was sure this was not her first encounter with the police, but that was no surprise, given the criminal records of her other gang-banging sons.

  “You’re right. I am here about him. But if the gun doesn’t belong to him, then what you’re saying is that it belongs to you, right?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not my—I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” She struggled to complete a sentence.

  “If it’s not yours, then I’m gonna have to assume it’s Tony’s, because the only two people whose names are on your lease are yours and his. Now, you do know Marcy Projects is a city housing unit. You can be evicted because of this gun.”

  Tears began to form in her eyes. “Listen, that’s not my gun, and it’s not Tony’s. You’ve gotta believe me. We’ve both worked so hard these past few years. I know my other sons aren’t the best citizens, but that ain’t me, and that ain’t Tony. Hell, I’ve battled my own demons in the past, but I’m clean, I’m a hard worker, and so is my baby.” She picked up what looked like a middle school graduation photo of Tony and stared at it, a slight smile coming to her face.

  I almost felt b
ad, because I knew she was telling the truth, but I reminded myself again that this was business.

  “That’s it. We’ve searched the entire house, Brown,” O’Malley walked in and announced. “We didn’t find anything other than the one weapon.”

  “Appreciate it. Go ahead and clear everyone out, but you stay close. I haven’t decided if we are going to charge her or not yet,” I told him, then turned to Ms. Baker.

  “I can help you, and I want to help your son, too. Believe me, I do.”

  Her eyes met mine, and she searched my face for sincerity, I suppose. I don’t know what she saw, but I was surprised by the conclusion she reached. “So, this ain’t about Tony, is it, Mr. Brown? This is about his friend Langston and his family.”

  I didn’t answer her question directly. I just said, “I need you to talk to your son and tell him to talk to me.”

  “What is it that he’s supposed to say?” Her question held the wisdom of someone who’d been pressured by the system before. She clearly understood how the game was played.

  “You been through this type of thing with your other boys before. I’m sure you and him will figure out something.” I got up from my seat and walked toward the door. “But don’t wait too long. You’re not the only one I’m talking to.”

  Bradley

  23

  “Good morning, Mr. Hudson. A late start for you today?” Iris, my housekeeper, asked in heavily-accented English as I sat down to the breakfast table. She filled my cup with coffee, and I reached for the sugar substitute and creamer. Iris was about my age and had been with me since Lamont was a toddler. She was more like family than a housekeeper.

  “Yes, Iris, a very late start.” I normally came down around six, had my coffee and an English muffin, and watched the cable news shows to see what was going on in my favorite reality show, otherwise known as the White House. But today it was a little after eight by the time I’d showered, dressed, and come downstairs. “I thought I heard Lamont down here.”

  “You did. Mr. Lamont stepped outside to take a phone call,” Iris explained just before Langston walked into the room. “Morning, Mr. Langston,” she said.