One Way or Another

by Rhonda Bowen

  “I’m not possessed, Camille,” Toni said.

  “No, but you’re empty,” her friend said. “And that’s just as dangerous. And that space inside you, that gaping hole that you try to fill with work and everything else, that’s the place where God needs to be.”

  Camille looked down at her plate. “Trust me, I know. I’ve walked that road.”

  Toni sighed. “You’re talking about the abortion, aren’t you?”

  Camille nodded. Toni noticed that she didn’t look up at her.

  Toni put down her fork and sighed. “Look, Camille, I am really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you about having the abortion. I had no idea what you were going through and I had no right to judge you. I should have been there with you. I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay,” Camille said. She still hadn’t looked up but she had put down her fork and stopped eating. “I should have listened to you when you told me not to do it. I was just so desperate. After I did it, though, I felt so terrible. I didn’t sleep for weeks. I was so depressed.”

  A pained expression contorted her features. “I even tried to commit suicide.”

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t know,” Toni said, grabbing Camille’s hand and holding it tight. “I am so sorry I wasn’t there. I shouldn’t have bailed on our friendship like that.”

  “You were going through your own stuff,” Camille said, shaking her head. “It was near when your parents died.”

  Toni watched her friend blink back tears. The memories of that time came flooding back to Toni. She remembered the horrible argument she and Camille had had about the baby. Toni had always thought abortion was wrong and so had Camille. But when she found out that she was pregnant and Gary broke up with her, denying the kid was his, she had felt like there was no other option. She had gone to Toni for support, but Toni had gotten mad at her and accused her of being selfish. They both had said some hurtful things.

  “How did your mom take it?” Toni asked.

  Camille shook her head. “She was so mad. She wouldn’t talk to me for weeks. I think she was more upset about the fact that I had an abortion than about the pregnancy. She never threw me out or anything, but she might as well have. She wouldn’t speak to me, and every time she looked at me it seemed like it broke her heart all over.”

  “That must have been horrible,” Toni said, still holding on to Camille’s hand.

  Camille nodded. “Yeah, but Pastor and Sis Reynolds, and a lot of people from Immanuel were really there for me. I don’t think I would have survived that year without them.”

  “You know when I saw you at Jasmine’s place a couple months back, I was pretty surprised,” Toni said. “I had thought for sure that you would have left the church a long time ago.”

  “I probably would have,” Camille said. “If it wasn’t for my Immanuel family, who knows?”

  Toni nodded.

  “That’s why I’m going so hard with you,” Camille said, tilting her head so she could meet Toni’s eyes. “I know you can get past this.”

  Toni bit her lip and blinked back the moisture from her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “So anyway,” Camille said, sitting up with a little laugh and wiping her eyes, “my life is not totally depressing. After everything I went to college, got my nursing degree, got a job at the clinic, and here I am.”

  Toni nodded, going back to her food. “You look like you did good for yourself. You got it all together now.”

  “Well,” Camille said, taking a forkful of chicken. “It ain’t all together.”

  Toni watched her friend curiously but said nothing. Camille chewed a bit thoughtfully before speaking again.

  “I’ve been thinking about moving.”

  “To a new place?” Toni asked.

  Camille bit her lip. “To a new city.”

  Toni’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Camille said. “I love Atlanta, but it would be nice to live somewhere else for a while, you know? Maybe LA or New York or Boston.”

  Toni’s eyebrows went up. “Wow, you’re serious.”

  “Of course I am,” Camille said. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m twenty-seven, I’ve got no husband, no kids, no debt, nothing to keep me tied to the ATL. When else in my life am I going to be able to up and move? I’m surprised you sound so shocked. You were always the more adventurous one of the two of us.”

  “I know, but I don’t know if I could just up and move,” Toni said, shaking her head. “I’ve got a job here, and then there’s Trey and Jasmine and the baby, and Afrika... .”

  Camille made a sound in her throat and Toni looked up.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Camille said.

  Toni noticed her friend didn’t meet her eyes. Toni put down her fork and folded her arms. “That’s not a nothing sound. That’s an I-don’t-believe-you sound.”

  “Okay,” Camille said, looking up, a small smile playing on her lips. “You sure those are the only reasons that you don’t want to leave?”

  “Of course those are the only reasons,” Toni protested. “Why else wouldn’t I want to leave?”

  Camille looked at Toni for a long moment before putting down her own fork. “So you not wanting to go has nothing to do with Adam?”

  Toni scowled. “Why would Adam figure into the equation?”

  “I don’t know,” Camille said, in a voice that suggested otherwise. “You tell me.”

  “He doesn’t figure,” Toni said stubbornly. “I don’t even know the guy. You probably know a lot more about him than I do.”

  “Not really. He’s pretty private,” Camille admitted. “You should probably ask Sabrina. They were dating for a while.”

  “Sabrina?” Toni repeated, her eyes widening. “Small-group Sabrina?”

  “The very same,” Camille said with a laugh. “Anyway, he’s free and clear now, if you’re interested.”

  “I’m not.” Toni sawed away at a piece of chicken breast.

  “Okay.” Camille got up and took her plate to the sink. “But if you are, I’ll just remind you of the vultures.”

  Toni laughed out loud. “You’re terrible, Camille.”

  “Hey, I just speak the truth.” Camille shrugged. “With those women at Immanuel circling, the good ones don’t stay in the water long.”

  “Sounds like you have a little crush.” Toni tilted her head to the side, considering her friend.

  “Nah. Adam’s like a brother to me.” Camille turned on the water to wash her plate. “Besides, a lot of people at Immanuel in our age group know what happened with me.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe it’s not so much that I want to move. I just want to be with someone who doesn’t know my past before they get to know me.”

  Toni nodded. She definitely understood that feeling. And as she thought about herself, Camille, and even Jerome, she couldn’t help but think it was amazing how so many people seemed to be looking for the same thing.

  Chapter 17

  Adam and Jerome walked up the front steps of the Westwood Towers and through the large impressive lobby to the front desk.

  “We’re here to see Dwayne Cartwright,” Adam said to the poised young woman with a headset sitting behind the divide.

  She smiled warmly. “Your names?”

  Adam gave her their names and she gave him building passes and directions to Dwayne’s office on the eighth floor.

  “Thanks,” Adam said, before heading in the direction she pointed. Jerome was busy looking around, and Adam had to tug at his arm to get him to focus.

  Jerome let out a whistle once they were a distance from the reception desk. “Man, these people must be up to their armpits in cheese. Are you checking these floors, Bayne? They so shiny I can see my face in them. And do you see the swimming pool in the middle of the lobby?”

  Adam chuckled. “It’s not a swimming pool, it’s a fountain.”

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t never seen no fountain big enough for me to do laps in,” J
erome said dryly, as they stepped into the elevator.

  Even though Adam had laughed at Jerome’s exaggeration, he had to admit that Westwood Towers did scream money. It was obvious that anyone who worked there must have it to spare—including Toni’s lawyer friend Dwayne. As they walked down the hall to his office, Adam couldn’t help but wonder how Toni knew someone like Dwayne well enough to pull the kind of strings she was pulling for them. Was he an old boyfriend? A current boyfriend? A lover? He felt the muscles in his neck tighten with every additional possibility. Maybe it was best he just not explore the thought at all.

  Dwayne’s door was open when Adam and Jerome finally found it.

  “Come in,” Dwayne said, standing from his desk when he saw Adam and Jerome lingering at the entrance. “Did you find the place okay? I know this isn’t really your part of town,” Dwayne said with a light laugh.

  Adam frowned, and Jerome’s eyes hardened.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jerome asked.

  “Nothing.” Dwayne cleared his throat. “I just meant that most people don’t come to this side unless they work in the towers.... I never meant—”

  “We found the place fine,” Adam said, deciding to end Dwayne’s discomfort. “Thank you for seeing us.”

  Dwayne ran a hand over the back of his neck. “No problem. Please, have a seat.”

  The three of them sat in uncomfortable silence as Dwayne shuffled through some papers on his desk. Adam’s eyes followed the slim black man. He was tall, almost the same height as Adam, with smooth almond-toned skin. His curly brown hair gave away his mixed roots, however. Even though it was cropped close to his head, Adam could tell that he wasn’t all black.

  Shiny silver cuffs peeked through the sleeves of his gray pinstriped suit, which Adam could tell was expensive. Even though it was boiling outside, Dwayne was decked out in a jacket and tie. Adam figured the guy could pull that off working in a building so fully air-conditioned it felt like a New York winter.

  Dwayne cleared his throat again and looked up at Adam and Jerome, who were both watching him. “So I wanted to talk to you both about the case,” he began. “The prosecution is taking an aggressive approach but I still think we can get you out of this. The goal is to try and keep the case from going to trial.”

  Adam nodded. He had been reading up on similar cases, and he had arrived at the same conclusion. If they could somehow come to some kind of deal, or even get the case thrown out before they got in front of a judge, they had a better chance of ensuring Jerome got no prison time.

  “So the key is to strike a bargain with the prosecution and get them to drop the case,” Dwayne continued. “If we can give them something, they might be willing to go easy on you.”

  Adam sat forward a little. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Well,” Dwayne said, turning his focus toward Jerome, “I think if you agree to serve eighteen months, I can get you out on parole after a year—”

  “You want me to serve time?” Jerome said angrily, jumping to his feet. “I thought you were supposed to be helping me stay out of jail.”

  “I’m helping you get the best out of this situation. And twelve months is better than three years,” Dwayne said.

  “But I didn’t do nothin’!”

  “You didn’t do nothing?” Dwayne repeated, his eyebrows going up. He began flipping through Jerome’s file in front of him. “It says here you were caught at the scene of an attempted car theft—”

  “But it wasn’t even my idea!”

  “You resisted arrest—”

  “The cop shoved my face into the ground, and put his foot on my neck—”

  “You aided the escape of your two accomplices; you refused to cooperate with the police; and you were found with marijuana on your person at the time of arrest,” Dwayne read from Jerome’s rap sheet.

  “I didn’t help nobody get away. They left me,” he said, beating his chest for emphasis. “And that weed thing was straight-up bogus. Even the cops at the station said that.

  “Man, I don’t need this,” Jerome said, scowling and heading toward the door. “This is whack.”

  “Jerome.” Adam’s voice stopped Jerome short of the door, in no uncertain terms. “Sit down.”

  Adam could almost feel the hostility radiating off Jerome in waves, but eventually the young man turned around, walked back to his chair, and dropped into it. He shot a look so poisonous at Dwayne that the man pushed back from his desk a little.

  Adam looked down at his hands folded in his lap. He had always known that there was a possibility Jerome would end up serving time. It was just the way the system was. And if all that Toni had told him about the case was right, then the only way to appease the real people pulling the strings would be to make them feel like they had won a little—and Jerome in jail, even for a short period, achieved that. But that didn’t mean Jerome planned to accept it. Even though it was hard to see, Adam knew the God he served was in control of the entire situation. If anyone could create a way out of this one for Jerome, it would be Him.

  “What other options do we have?” Adam asked after a long moment.

  “Not many,” Dwayne said, his forehead wrinkling. “We could take our chances at trial, which we would probably end up losing; or we could agree to plead guilty to a charge of accessory to theft, which would carry a lighter sentence. It would still carry jail time, however.”

  “So basically, you’re proposing that Jerome plead guilty and serve time for a crime he didn’t commit,” Adam said calmly.

  “I’m saying that the prosecution wants Jerome in jail,” Dwayne deadpanned. “They’re going to try to get that one way or another. If we don’t plead out, then they’re going to take us to trial and go for at least five years. And they might be able to pull it off, given the other car theft they’ve tagged onto his case. Now I’ll go with whatever you decide. The choice is yours. But if I was looking at eighteen months in jail versus five years, I would go with the eighteen months.”

  “Eighteen months and a police record that has Jerome listed as guilty of grand theft auto,” Adam said. “A record that will follow him around for a lot longer than a year and a half.”

  Dwayne grimaced and sat back. “I can talk to them about keeping it off his record, but that might mean taking the parole off the table.” He sighed. “I am just your lawyer. I can advise you of what’s best but I can’t make you do anything. At the end of the day it’s up to you. What do you want to do?”

  “We want you to come up with some better options,” Adam said matter-of-factly. “Ones that involve no jail time for Jerome and don’t have him in your system as a convicted felon. We told you what happened,” Adam continued. “Jerome didn’t do this. He knows that he shouldn’t have been where he was that day, and that’s why he admitted to criminal mischief. And he has been at Jacob’s House for the last year and a half. He shouldn’t have to serve more time. I heard you were good. Make the right thing happen for Jerome on this one. Please.”

  Dwayne ran a hand over his head. “All right. I’ll talk to the DA and see what we can work out. But still, think about what we discussed. If it comes down to it, you should know what you’re willing to accept.”

  They got to their feet.

  “Thanks,” Adam said, shaking Dwayne’s hand. He nodded for Jerome to do the same. Grudgingly the young man complied, but then he made a beeline for the door.

  As they waited for the elevator to come to their floor, Adam glanced back down the hall at Dwayne’s office. The meeting had left him even more concerned about Jerome’s fate than before, but it had also helped Adam to realize something that he had suspected all along.

  It was going to take divine intervention to keep Jerome out of prison.

  Chapter 18

  “Mr. Maxwell will see you now.”

  It was about time. Toni only had to wait three weeks to get on the man’s calendar for an appointment, and then another thirty minutes in his lobby—even though she had been
on time.

  She wasn’t going to be a diva though. Silver was in high demand. He was also very picky about the reporters he entertained meetings with. She had lucked out in getting onto his schedule at all—especially now that he had officially announced his plans to run in the coming election.

  Silver Maxwell was Atlanta’s celebrity mayor. Though he had only served one term, which ended almost seven years ago, the Atlanta people loved him so much that his name ended up on a ballot for something every election. He was in the news almost every week. It would be almost sickening if he wasn’t so irritatingly charming. Even Toni, who couldn’t stomach most politicians, had a little celebrity crush on him. He was exactly what she needed to take her story from good to great.

  Smiling, she stood to her feet and followed the perky and impeccably dressed receptionist and her afro down a short hallway and around a corner into Silver’s office. Like the rest of the floor, the spacious office was decorated in earth tones, with carved wooden sculptures, beaded rugs, handwoven wall hangings, and other pieces of African art. So it seemed Silver was in touch with his roots, from the hired help to the decor. Toni hoped that would work to her advantage.

  Silver’s desk was positioned in front of a large window that covered one entire wall and offered a panoramic view of the Atlanta cityscape. This is where she found him sitting.

  “Ms. Shields, pleasure to have you stop by today,” he said, rising from his plush office chair to shake Toni’s hand. Even from where she was standing, she could tell that the thing was genuine leather and probably cost more than her whole sofa. Silver might be about the working class people, but he definitely wasn’t living like one of them.

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Maxwell,” Toni said, her lips curving into a smile. “And please, call me Toni.”

  “Well, then I must insist that you call me Silver,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he smiled back.