Have you and Chase slept together?”
“Honey, three years ago when we were on the Missouri River Serial Killer case, Chase and I had to go to Jefferson City to tell the governor that his daughter was found dead. Agent James didn’t want us to get back on the road, so we were ordered to spend the night and return the next morning. There was a convention going on and rooms were scarce.
“The only room that was left was one room for disabled people, so we shared it. I have to admit I did kiss her, but nothing else happened. We came home that next morning.”
Sierra slaps me across the face. “You bastard, how could you?” she says through trembling hands that now cover her mouth as tears fill her eyes. “I trusted you, Joe.”
“That’s why I couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything with her. I know you love me and I would not do anything to sacrifice that, Sierra. I never had sex with Chase. I was wrong for kissing her, and I swear to you, nothing ever happened after that.”
“So, you’re willing to risk everything for this woman—your marriage, your children, your family and your partner? That bitch is going to get you killed, Joe.”
Sierra pushes me in the chest, turns abruptly and runs upstairs crying. The door to our bedroom slams shut.
Damn. I feel like crap on one hand for telling Sierra about Chase and I, but I’m relieved I got that off my chest.
I’ll give Sierra some time alone, then try and make up.
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I call Vernon and ask him to come over. He agrees as long as we shoot some hoops. I test the dishwater to make sure it’s still warm and begin washing the breakfast dishes. I feel as low as a slug’s butt. I’ve broken Sierra’s trust in me and I will have to work twice as hard to get it back. This has been a long day and it’s still morning.
When I finish the dishes, I inch up the stairs, trying to think of what to say to have Sierra forgive me and accept me taking this case. I understand where she is coming from. What would my own mindset be if the shoe were on the other foot?
By the time I make it to our room, the twins and Nia are consoling Sierra as she lies on the bed, crying. Joe, Jr. has his thumb in his mouth and is sitting against the headboard as if he’s just waiting for all this drama to be over. Nia and Vernie are on either side of their mother, already showing signs of women’s solidarity. They are hugging Sierra.
Nia tells me with concern, “Daddy, Momma’s sad and crying. She won’t tell us what’s the matter.”
I pick Nia up and kiss her, and address all the kids.
“Well, I have to admit, children, it’s Daddy’s fault that Mom’s crying. Daddy might have to go away for a little while and Mom’s going to miss Daddy a whole bunch.
But I want all of you to know that Daddy loves his family very much and you guys mean the world to me.”
I put Nia down, sit next to Sierra and put my hand softly upon her shoulder. She turns her head away from me.
Joe, Jr. comes up behind me and embraces my neck.
“Daddy, can I go wit’ you?”
“Oh, me, too,” Vernie asks as she sits next to me.
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Nia situates herself on my lap. “Why can’t we all go, Daddy, like we do when we go on vacation?”
I swallow hard, seeing the love my family has for me as Sierra sits up, wiping her face to see how I answer the kids, and I realize what it is I’m asking my family to sacrifice.
“Daddy will be working out of town. There are some bad men your father’s got to catch, and I have to help a friend out of trouble.” I look Sierra in the eyes. “Daddy promises to come home safe, and I’ll never take a case like this again. I just want you guys to know that I love you, and my world is nothing without all of you in it.”
“How long you gonna be gone, Daddy?” Nia asks.
“Baby girl, Daddy will not be gone that long. Just long enough to take care of this business.”
Sierra gathers the kids. “Come on, children, let’s go make some cookies.”
The kids get excited, race out of the room and down the stairs toward the kitchen as Sierra stops in the doorway and looks at me with sorrow in her eyes. “Joe, I hope you know what you’re doing.” She turns and closes the bedroom door.
I lie back on the bed with my hands behind my head and pray to God that I’m making the correct decision.
And for all the right reasons.
Vernon bursts through the door and startles me from my slumber. “What up, dawg? Damn, wake your ass up.
I can’t believe you didn’t hear me and the kids playing downstairs.You must have some heavy problems on your mind, son.” Vernon takes a bite into a homemade cookie.
The sweet chocolate smell fills the air.
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“What up, bro? I must have fallen asleep. How long you been here?” I ask as I wipe the sleep from my eyes.
“At least twenty minutes, and I been here long enough to know that Sierra is pissed about something.
What you do, buster?” Vernon starts to work on the second and then third cookie. “Wow, these things are good,” he says, with his mouth full as he grabs my basketball off the floor.
“Dude, why is it that you automatically think that it was something that I did?” I ask as I pull on my tennis shoes.
Vernon tries to spin the basketball on his stubby index finger, but he has never been able to do it. His efforts have improved at this point. Vernon stands around six feet and is in great shape for his age of fifty-two.
“Because Sierra is downstairs with the kids baking cookies, and you got your punk ass sitting up here in your room like she got you on punishment, that’s why! Any more questions?” Vernon asks while he continues to fail miserably at spinning the ball on his finger as though he’s trying to imitate a very bad Harlem Globetrotter.
“C’mon, Vernon, why are you all up in my business?” I question as I head out of the room, grabbing the basketball from his grasp.
“Because that’s what friends do. Make sure we stay on our partner’s asses, so they’ll stay on the straight and narrow,” Vernon replies as he pushes me in the back toward the stairs.
Sierra is taking more cookies out of the oven when Vernon and I pass through the kitchen to get to the backyard.
The kids are at the table watching Fat Albert and the Cosby kids’videos while drinking milk and eating cookies. In kid heaven, they barely notice us as we pass by.
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“Vernon, would you like some more cookies? There are sodas, milk, water and juice in the refrigerator if you’re thirsty,” Sierra offers, never looking my way.
Vernon grabs a couple of the freshly baked pecan-chocolate chip cookies and puts them in a napkin.
“I don’t mind if I do. Thanks, Sierra. These things are so good, you need to be selling them,” Vernon says as he kisses my wife on the cheek on his way to the refrigerator.
Sierra smiles. “They’re my mother’s recipe, so I’d have to get permission to do that, Vernon.”
“Baby, those look good. I think I’ll have one myself.” I reach to get a cookie from the baking tray, but Sierra moves them from my grasp. She gives me a cold stare as her smile evaporates so fast I don’t even see her blink. Sierra walks toward the kitchen counter where the cookie jar is. I just stand there with my hand outstretched.
“Make your own damn cookies, Mr. Selfish Man,”
Sierra snaps as she goes to sit with the kids at the table.
Vernon passes by me and gives me a nudge, trying to control his laughter as he heads outside. “Whoa, is it getting cold in here or is it just me?” Vernon teases as he pulls the tab from the grape-juice can.
I don’t even bother with the cookies. It’s best not to irritate my wife any more than I already have. We get on the basketball court in my driveway and Vernon comes over and puts his long arm around my shoulder.
“Joe, dang man. You got to b
e in some serious shit.
When your woman won’t even give you a cookie, you must have messed up bad,” Vernon states as he grabs the basketball from me and shoots it into the basket. “Yeah, Vincent Alexandria
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brotha, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Big Poppa has to come to your house and whip your ass at basketball.”
“Vernon, I got this, and I can handle my wife. You just worry about this thrashing I’m about to put on your old ass, my friend.”
Vernon pushes the ball into my chest. “Well, dude, pull your pink panties up and take out the ball, so this old man can show you what he’s working with.”
I take the ball out, fake left, then right and drive to the basket, making a lay-up off the backboard. “One to nothing!”
Vernon gets the rebound and throws me the basketball. “That was luck. I dare you to do it again.”
I bounce the ball in-bound and fake to my left again and then pull up for a fifteen-foot jumper off the glass.
“Two to nothing! Where’s all that junk talking you were doing?”
“Just shut up and take the ball out, punk. That move wasn’t cute. You looked like Penny Hardaway on crack,”
Vernon jokes.
I bounce the ball in and dribble to my left, pulling up for another jump shot, which rolls around the rim, then out. Vernon grabs the rebound and puts the ball in for an easy lay-up. “Here I come, baby,” Vernon warns.
“Tell you what, old man, I know you don’t have a jumper no more, so as long as you can make it from twenty feet out, I won’t guard you.”
“I don’t need no favors because I live and die by my jumper, boy,” Vernon replies as he steps in-bounds and lets fly another jump shot that falls perfectly into the hoop, causing the nets to pop.
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“Hot damn, you hear that, boy? Ooh, wee! I love that sound! You better get the fire extinguisher before I burn your nets up.”
“That was luck, and you know it. You need to shut up before I make you eat all that crap you’re talking.”
Vernon steps in-bound and lets another perfect shot fly.
It goes in just like the other. “That was for your momma!”
“We playing the dozens, now? Okay then, I’m gonna give you something to tell my momma about.”
Vernon steps in, but is unaware I have his rhythm down. When he goes up for another jump shot, I quickly leap and swat the ball on the roof, off the garage, and burst out laughing. “Yeah, now go and tell my momma about that, punk!”
Vernon calls out, “Foul!”
“What? Man, you must be crazy. That was all ball.
You trippin’, Vernon.”
Vernon grabs his beefy arm and then checks his wrist.
“Joe, you are a hack. You tried to take my arm off. You were just embarrassed because I was lighting your ass up from the three-point line.”
“We don’t even have a three-point line. What you talking about?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I was busting your butt with those thirty-footers and you got jealous and lost your mind. You trying to put a brotha on injured reserve, dawg,” Vernon whines, rubbing his arm.
“See, that’s why I don’t like playing with you. You cry worse than Magic Johnson when he was playing.”
“Now, why you got to be hatin’ on Magic?”
“Why are you lying, saying I fouled you when I blocked your shot clean?”
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“Joe, why don’t you just walk over there and get the ball. We’ll shoot the mystic ball to see who’s lying,
’cause you know the ball never lies,” Vernon reminds me.
The mystic ball is how we settle arguments and bad calls. The person who makes the bad call is challenged to go to the free-throw line and shoot. If he makes it, the call was a good one. If he misses, the verdict is that he was lying through his teeth.
I retrieve the ball and throw it to Vernon, who has already placed himself at the free-throw line. He bounces the ball three times and lets it fly. The shot is all net. It goes straight in.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire! I told you, you hacked the shit out of me, and you know the mystic ball never lies!”
“Whatever! Your ball, Vernon.” I throw Vernon the ball out of bounds, and damn if he doesn’t make the next eight shots in a row.
“Fool, I told you to try and hold me and play some defense. You don’t believe the legend,” Vernon says, grinning from ear to ear.
“Dude, I let you win. Shut up!” I say, laughing. Then my laughter dies.
“Vernon, I need to talk to you.”
Vernon frowns, “This about you and Sierra?”
I place the basketball between my legs, sit on top of it and look up. “Yeah, but it has to do with you, as well.”
“Joe, is this gonna be one of those cigar moments?”
A cigar is something Vernon has to have when he’s about to hear something he isn’t going to like.
Vernon rubs his well-manicured hand over his close-cropped head. “Yep, you might as well go get it now, Vernon.”
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My friend gives me a curious look and heads to the driveway for one of his cigars. Vernon always puts a cigar in his mouth when he’s nervous, serious or about to get violent. I know my partner and he’s not going to like what I have to tell him one bit.
Vernon strolls back up the driveway, takes a seat on the step leading to the back door of the house and places his cigar in his wide mouth. He never lights it, he just chews on it. “All right, boy, you got me out here. What’s on your mind?”
I get up and throw Vernon the ball, which he places under his arm. I pull up one of the lawn chairs and sit across from him.
“Vernon, Chase is deep undercover on a case that involves dirty cops killing drug dealers for money.
They’re also killing cops who try to get out of the organization. Chase has gotten in next to the head guy, some Cuban named Dread Cattanno. He’s a police sergeant for the Nebraska Police Department. He’s been under suspicion for a while, but they haven’t been able to bust this guy. Agent James gave me the case file. He also has reason to believe that Agent Smelley is dead.”
Vernon leans back on the steps and his brown skin seems to get darker as his eyes narrow. “Damn, Joe. This sounds like some serious shit. If Smelley got his cover blown, Chase is on borrowed time.”
“Exactly! So, something has to be done. And fast.”
Vernon scrunches up his wide nose. “Joe, what the hell we know about Nebraska?”
“Vernon, it doesn’t stop there. This guy has got connections and is operating in Oklahoma, Iowa, Nebraska Vincent Alexandria
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and Kansas. They call it a black ring. Dirty cops killing drug dealers to get rich.”
“What’re we gonna do for backup? We won’t know what cops to trust and who’s dirty. I know a few guys in the other departments, but not good enough to rely on their information.” Vernon twirls the cigar in his mouth.
I decide not to tell him about the fifty thousand finance money, to be spent as front money for the case, I have more than that in the bank, but I don’t want Vernon to get the wrong idea. And I can’t let him think that he’s in on this. I can put my own life in jeopardy, but not Vernon’s. Not this time.
“Vernon, Agent James asked me to take this case and I agreed to. Solo! I’ll be leaving Sunday.”
Vernon starts to laugh. “Stop fucking around, Joe.
You never know when to take things serious.”
“But, I am serious, Vernon. I can’t ask you to do this.
Chase and I have history, and I owe her my life.”
Vernon stands with the ball under his arm, bites down on his cigar and then grabs it out of his mouth. “We got history, Joe. I’m your partner, remember? I owe you my life and my wife’s. How you expect to do this alone?”
Vernon doesn’t realize that is th
e very reason I don’t want him on this dangerous case. He’s like a brother to me and if something happened to him, I would never be able to face myself or his wife, Gertrude.
I rub my right eyebrow. “Agent James will assist me with cooperatives, and I was going to call on a couple of friends that grew up with me, like Pretty Kevin.”
“What, Joe, you’re going to trust your life with a pimp? What kind of crazy shit is that?”
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“Vernon, Kevin has given that life up for two years now. Why you always giving Pretty Kevin a hard time?”
I grew up and went to college with Kevin. He graduated and could not find a job that paid better than pimping.
He got caught up in the Missouri River Serial Killer case when his prostitutes started coming up missing and their dead bodies were found floating in the river. He was a prime suspect, but we ended up solving the case and Kevin was cleared. After that situation, Kevin experienced a major life conversion. He now is part-owner of Ebony Plastics, which is doing very well. The corpora-tion grosses over five million dollars per year.
“Joe, this ain’t about Kevin. This is about my so-called partner making decisions without me. That’s not how it’s supposed to work. Our partnership is about trust, honor and respect. Not selfish decisions that can get you killed. This is about friendship, man.”
“That’s why I’m not getting you involved, Vernon.
Man, Gertrude could never forgive me if something happened to you. Pretty Kevin can hook me up with Mo-Mo and St. Louis Slim. These guys love this kind of dangerous shit and I know they’ll have my back. They both owe me big-time, and it’s time for them to pay up.
Vernon, you know Commissioner Wayne isn’t going to let both of us do this. Look at the cases we already have open. You’ve got to stay and cover for me. You got to look after my wife and kids while I’m gone, man. Who else can I trust to do that, bro?”
“Joe, Mo-Mo and St. Louis Slim are going to get you killed. Both them fools are crazy and you know it.”
“Yeah, but both are very loyal and have friends in shady places all over the six-state area. I can get guns Vincent Alexandria
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