Abuse of Discretion

by Pamela Samuels Young

  Books by Pamela Samuels Young

  * * *

  Vernetta Henderson Series

  Every Reasonable Doubt (1st in series)

  In Firm Pursuit (2nd in series)

  Murder on the Down Low (3rd in series)

  Attorney-Client Privilege (4th in series)

  Lawful Deception (5th in series)

  Dre Thomas Series

  Buying Time (1st in series)

  Anybody’s Daughter (2nd in series)

  Abuse of Discretion (3rd in series)

  Short Stories

  The Setup

  Easy Money

  Unlawful Greed

  Non-Fiction

  Kinky Coily: A Natural Hair Resource Guide

  Abuse of Discretion

  Goldman House Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Pamela Samuels Young

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or used in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the express written permission of Goldman House Publishing.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, dialogue, incidents, companies, organizations, and places, except for incidental references to public figures, products or services, are the product of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. No character in this book is based on an actual person. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintentional. The author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of the information contained in this book and assume no responsibility for any errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or inconsistencies contained herein.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact the author or Goldman House Publishing.

  Pamela Samuels Young

  www.pamelasamuelsyoung.com

  Goldman House Publishing

  goldmanhousepublishing@gmail.com

  Printed in U.S.A.

  For my grand-nieces Anyah Samuels and Temple Samuels,

  and my grand-nephews, Blake Samuels and Roman Samuels,

  may you always be safe in this technologically complicated world.

  “Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.”

  — James Baldwin, novelist and social critic

  CHAPTER 1

  Graylin

  “What’s the matter, Mrs. Singletary? Why do I have to go to the principal’s office?”

  I’m walking side-by-side down the hallway with my second-period teacher. Students are huddled together staring and pointing at us like we’re zoo animals. When a teacher at Marcus Preparatory Academy escorts you to the principal’s office, it’s a big deal. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I’m a good student. I never get in trouble.

  Mrs. Singletary won’t answer my questions or even look at me. I hope she knows she’s only making me more nervous.

  “Mrs. Singletary, please tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Just follow me. You’ll find out in a minute.”

  I’m about to ask her another question when it hits me. Something happened to my mama!

  My mama has been on and off drugs for as long as I can remember. I haven’t seen her in months and I don’t even know where she lives. No one does. I act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I’ve prayed to God a million times to get her off drugs. Even though my granny says God answers prayers, He hasn’t answered mine, so I stopped asking.

  I jump in front of my teacher, forcing her to stop. “Was there a death in my family, Mrs. Singletary? Did something happen to my mama?”

  “No, there wasn’t a death.”

  She swerves around me and keeps going. I have to take giant steps to keep up with her.

  Once we’re inside the main office, Mrs. Singletary points at a wooden chair outside Principal Keller’s office. “Have a seat and don’t move.”

  She goes into the principal’s office and closes the door. My head begins to throb like somebody’s banging on it from the inside. I close my eyes and try to calm down. I didn’t do anything wrong. It’s probably just—Oh snap! The picture!

  I slide down in the chair and pull my iPhone from my right pocket. My hands are trembling so bad I have to concentrate to keep from dropping it. I open the photos app and delete the last picture on my camera roll. If anyone saw that picture, I’d be screwed.

  Loud voices seep through the closed door. I lean forward, straining to hear. It almost sounds like Mrs. Singletary and Principal Keller are arguing.

  It’s only an allegation. We don’t even know if it’s true.

  I don’t care. We have to follow protocol.

  Can’t you at least check his phone first?

  I’m not putting myself in the middle of this mess. I’ve already made the call.

  The call? I can’t believe Principal Keller called my dad without even giving me a chance to defend myself. How’d she even find out about the picture?

  The door swings open and I almost jump out of my skin. The principal crooks her finger at me. “Come in here, son.”

  Trudging into her office, I sit down on a red cloth chair that’s way more comfortable than the hard one outside. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it might jump out of my chest.

  The only time I’ve ever been in Principal Keller’s office was the day my dad enrolled me in school. Mrs. Singletary is standing in front of the principal’s desk with her arms folded. I hope she’s going to stay here with me, but a second later, she walks out and closes the door.

  Principal Keller sits on the edge of her desk, looking down at me. “Graylin, do you have any inappropriate pictures on your cell phone?”

  “Huh?” I try to keep a straight face. “No, ma’am.”

  “It’s been brought to my attention that you have an inappropriate picture—a naked picture—of Kennedy Carlyle on your phone. Is that true?”

  “No…uh…No, ma’am.” Thank God I deleted it!

  “This is a very serious matter, young man. So, I need you to tell me the truth.”

  “No, ma’am.” I shake my head so hard my cheeks vibrate. “I don’t have anything like that on my phone.”

  “I pray to God you’re telling me the truth.”

  I don’t want to ask this next question, but I have to know. “Um, so you called my dad?”

  “Yes, I did. He’s on his way down here now.”

  I hug myself and start rocking back and forth. Even though I deleted the picture, my dad is still going to kill me for having to leave work in the middle of the day.

  “I also made another call.”

  At first I’m confused. Then I realize Mrs. Keller must’ve called my granny too. At least she’ll keep my dad from going ballistic.

  “So you called my granny?”

  “No.” The principal’s cheeks puff up like she’s about to blow something away. “I called the police.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Dre

  “We haven’t heard much from you this afternoon, Dre. How’ve you been making out?”

  I instantly straighten up from my slouched position on the therapist’s too-soft couch. This clueless chick has no idea how much I hate being here. Her suffocating, windowless office with its mint green walls, inspirational sayings and shiny cement floor make
me feel like a caged animal. Almost like it felt when I’d been caged up for real.

  “I’m making it.” I squeeze my niece’s hand. My sister Donna is sitting on the opposite side of Brianna, looking as worried about me as she is about her daughter.

  Having to participate in this kumbaya session with this over-articulate sister who keeps pressing me to bare my soul—something I ain’t gonna do—is almost painful.

  If I’d met her in a club, she definitely would’ve piqued my interest. Cute face, nice tits, and thick around the hips, just the way I like my women. But as I stare across the room, that’s not what I see. She might as well be one of those annoying, yellow happy faces because that’s how she comes off.

  The therapist folds her arms and rests them on her enormous boobs. “Oh, c’mon, Dre. You can surely dig a little deeper than that.”

  If this chick tells me to dig deep one more time, I swear I’m gonna kick her ugly-ass purple coffee table across the room. She seems to believe that constantly picking at my scabs will cause my pain to seep out and float away like the excrement that it is. Everyone in this room knows that’s bull. Nothing—not even time—can heal this hurt.

  My lips curve into a tight smile. “As long as Bree’s good, then I’m good.”

  This is only our third family counseling session, but it feels like the thirtieth. Whenever the urge to bolt hits me—like now—I tell myself that after everything Brianna’s been through, spending an hour a week listening to this psychobabble is the least I can do.

  “But we want to know if you’re good,” the therapist presses. “Brianna wasn’t the only victim. This was a traumatic experience for you too.”

  I inhale as the silver plaque on the wall above her head catches my eye. Life is lived forward but understood backwards. Yeah, tell me about it.

  “As I’ve said before, I’m dealing with it.”

  “Actually, he’s not dealing with it at all,” my sister volunteers. “The Shepherd’s in prison, but Dre wants him dead. To be honest, I’m more worried about my brother than my daughter.”

  My baby sis is such a drama queen. Except this time, she’s right on the money.

  As much as I’ve tried, I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that children like my thirteen-year-old niece—babies really—are being sold on the street like dime bags of weed. Before Brianna’s kidnapping over a year ago, I knew nothing about the world of child sex trafficking. Now I could teach a college course on the subject. My niece was literally snatched off the street as part of a Facebook scam run by a thug called The Shepherd.

  It pisses me off that the dude only got a measly twelve years. He’s even in a low-security federal prison. From everything I’ve heard, that’s basically summer camp.

  The therapist is waiting for me to say something. Unlike most people, she’s quite comfortable with silence. To get her off my back, I pretend to open up.

  “Most of the time I’m fine.” I fake a long sigh and lower my head, but my voice starts to quiver all on its own. “Then I think about what Brianna went through and I get pissed off.”

  Brianna pats my hand. “I’m okay, Uncle Dre. And you’re gonna be okay too.”

  A warm sensation sweeps across my face and my heart. This little girl has such a hold on me. I lean down and kiss the top of her head.

  The therapist gives Brianna an encouraging smile. “I’m proud of your progress, Brianna. How’s everything between you and your mother?”

  “Um, pretty good.” Brianna gives her mother a quick sideways glance. “But she still won’t let me have another cell phone or an Instagram account. She won’t even let me sleep over at my friend Kendra’s house.”

  “I’m with your mother on the cell phone tip,” I say, turning to my sister. “But you could back up off her a little bit. Why don’t we give Instagram a try and see how it goes? All the kids do is post a bunch of pictures on it. I trust her not to do anything crazy. Right, Bree?”

  “Right,” Brianna says eagerly.

  “Yeah, okay, I guess,” Donna says, full of reluctance. “But I’m getting one of those programs so I can monitor everybody you’re talking to and everything you post.”

  Brianna gives her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Mommy!”

  “But I’m still not ready for a sleepover,” Donna insists. “Whenever Brianna’s out of my sight, I still get nervous about somebody kidnapping her again. I can barely handle her being back in school.”

  “Let’s try this,” the therapist suggests. “How about having Brianna spend the night at her grandmother’s house first? Then we’ll go from there.”

  Donna grimaces.

  “You do trust your mother to take care of her, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Brianna’s face lights up. “And when you and Angela get married,” she says, nudging me with her elbow, “I can have a sleepover at your house too. Don’t you think it’s about time you bought Angela an engagement ring?”

  Outwardly, I chuckle, but on the inside, dread slithers through my veins like a warm shot of heroin. My girl Angela is the best thing about my life these days. But the timing of us finally getting together couldn’t be worse.

  Neither Angela nor my family knows about the call I received from my cousin this morning. From behind prison walls, The Shepherd put the word out on the street that he’s gunning for me.

  This poses a problem on multiple fronts. I promised Angela that my life of crime was behind me. And, at the time, I meant it. But The Shepherd’s threat changes things. Angela’s a lawyer who walks the straight-and-narrow. If she knew what was going on, she’d want me to report it to the police. That ain’t my style. I’m gonna handle my situation my way.

  My top priority for the moment is keeping myself and everyone around me safe. Unfortunately, Angela and I recently decided to move in together. She texted me this morning about checking out a rental house in Leimert Park. I have to find a way to slow her roll, at least until this situation is resolved. If we shack up now, she could end up as collateral damage.

  Brianna’s voice punctures my thoughts. “And when you propose to her, you better get down on one knee.”

  “You’re a little smarty pants. You know that?”

  “Yep. And I’m also smart enough to know that you’re going to be okay. Just like me.”

  Brianna presses her right cheek against my chest and hugs me tight.

  My niece’s words are soothingly prophetic. I will indeed be okay. As soon as I find a way to kill The Shepherd.

  CHAPTER 3

  Graylin

  The police!

  My mouth is as dry as sand. “I don’t have a naked picture of anybody on my phone, Mrs. Keller. I swear, I don’t. Why’d you call the police on me?”

  “I had no choice.”

  My right knee won’t stop bouncing up and down. “Who said I had a naked picture?”

  “I can’t disclose that information.”

  There’s a knock on the door. When two police officers step into the room, I almost pee on myself. They introduce themselves to the principal but ignore me.

  One of the cops is short and Asian with biceps that look like two boulders. He turns around and mean mugs me. “Is this the student?”

  Principal Keller nods and hands him a piece of paper. He reads it, then turns back to me.

  “I’m Officer Chin and this is Officer Fenton,” the Asian cop says, referring to a tall white man with slicked-back hair who’s staring down at me too. “We need to talk to you.”

  Officer Chin opens the side door leading into the principal’s private conference room and tells me to go inside. I’m so nervous it feels like I’m walking on toothpicks.

  The white cop sits in the chair next to me and turns sideways. He’s sitting so close to me that his knee keeps brushing against my thigh. I want to ask him to move back,
but I don’t. Officer Chin sits on the other side of the long table, glaring at me like I shot somebody.

  “So, Graylin, do you know why you’re here?” Officer Chin asks.

  “Nope,” I mumble. Then I hear my grandmother’s voice. She’s old school and is always telling me to be respectful to adults. “I mean, no, sir.”

  I don’t like looking at the Asian cop. If they try a good-cop, bad-cop act on me, he’s probably going to play the bad cop.

  “First, I need to tell you that you’re in some major trouble,” the mean one says.

  I’ve already decided that’s what I’m going to call Officer Chin—Mean Cop—because that’s what he is.

  I don’t say anything since he hasn’t asked me a question.

  “How old are you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “Your principal got a report that you have a naked picture of one of your classmates on your phone.”

  “But I don’t.” Not anymore.

  “Do you know Kennedy Carlyle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I screw up my face. “No.” Kennedy is way too stuck-up to be anybody’s girlfriend.

  “Well, how do you know her?”

  “She’s in my English and algebra classes.”

  I don’t want to talk to them because I know they aren’t on my side. I watch a lot of TV crime shows with my granny. The cops always act like they want to help you, but they’d rather shoot a black kid than help him. That’s why we need Black Lives Matter. They just need to read me my rights and—Oh snap! I suddenly remember what my dad told me to do if the police ever stopped me.

  I sit up straight and try to look brave. “My dad told me not to talk to the police without his permission.”

  Mean Cop rolls his eyes. “Is that right? Does your daddy know you have a naked picture of one of your classmates on your phone?”

  But I don’t. I want to smile, but I know that will get me in even more trouble.

  Mean Cop grips the edge of the table and leans forward. “If I were you, I’d want to defend myself. So, if you want us to hear your side of the story, you better start talking.”