She shook her head.
He pushed his empty bowl away from him and leaned back in his chair. “Look. I’m tired of being dicked around,” he began. “You and your friends have been trying to gaslight me into believing that I haven’t seen what I’ve seen or know what I know. I’m fucking tired of it. I’ve put my neck out on the line, time after time. This shit is downright disrespectful. You got more muthafuckas trying to take you out than a Colombian kingpin.”
“What?”
“Oh.” He tossed up his hands. “You may not remember your friends saving you out of a trap house a couple of nights ago. When they brought you back here, I, frankly, thought that you were dead. It’s usually the assumption when people aren’t breathing and don’t have a pulse. But lo and behold on the third day, your ass rose like Lazarus in the fucking bathtub, puking your guts out. Now, I’m no fucking doctor, and I don’t play one on TV, but that shit ain’t normal.” He wagged a finger. “And too much shit about you ain’t adding up. And to top it off, you’re a fuckin’ junkie. No offense.”
The table was quiet, but everyone’s gazes skittered around.
A phone trilled in the distance.
“And that reporter chick keeps calling. If she doesn’t talk to you today, she threatened to call the police. And that shit can’t happen,” he warned. “Shit. I feel like a babysitter up in this bitch.”
“I’ll call her back,” Abrianna croaked, climbing out of the chair with her coffee and marching back to the bedroom.
Ghost tossed up his arms. “That’s it? You’re really not going to tell me what’s the real story is here?”
She ignored him and shut the door behind her.
Abrianna missed the call by the time she reached the phone. Recognizing Tomi’s work number, she called her back.
“Where in the hell have you been?” Tomi demanded. “I’ve been calling you for days. Some guy named Shawn kept answering your phone and telling me that you were indisposed. I didn’t know if I needed to call the police and file a missing person report.”
Abrianna’s heart leaped into her throat. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No. But you can’t be disappearing for days on me like that. I was beginning to think that . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t know, that maybe that weird Charlie guy popped up or the president threw you into Guantanamo Bay. Hell. He’s gunning for your father. Who knows what his desperate ass would do?”
“Well, I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Tomi asked. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m good,” she lied.
After a long silence, Tomi said, “The reason I was calling is because I booked your first interview. Well, I had to reschedule it now. But it’s The Greg Wallace Show and they’re willing to pay six figures. The Filibuster with Joy Walton also put an offer on the table, but it’s to interview you and Kadir once he’s out of jail. They are offering a cool million for an exclusive.”
“Humph. We have to get him out first.”
“That’s the hiccup.”
Abrianna sighed. “All right. I do need the money.”
“Did you read those emails?”
“No. I . . . I haven’t. Give me the date and time. I’ll be there.”
34
Kadir kept to himself.
At least that was the plan. He’d learned long ago not to clique up into any gang by the skin color bullshit that ensnared too many newbies. There wasn’t a foolproof way to avoid trouble, but the cost of protection is often too steep a price, and there was often no way out once you went down that road. Best to learn how to protect yourself and then let the chips fall where they may. Once word traveled about his fight with Precious, Kadir gained a lot of respect; he was left alone to mind his own business.
So it took him by surprise when a brother, broad as the side of a mountain, dropped his tray on the table in front of him and then took his time squatting down into the bench seat.
It took Kadir a second to know the big man had no interest in his lunch.
“Are you Kadir Kahlifa?” the mountain asked.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
“I got a message from Ghost.”
Kadir lifted a brow. “I’m listening.”
“He wants you to call him.”
Kadir waited for the punch line, but there wasn’t one. “Am I supposed to stand out in the yard and make smoke signals for this call?” he asked.
The mountain’s lips twitched. “Bathroom, third stall. There’s a loose tile by the base. Inside, there’s a burner and a VOIP encryption number.”
“A VOIP encrypt—are you a member of the revolution?”
The mountain smiled. “Vive la resistance, muthafucka. He’s waiting.” With that the big man lumbered to his feet, picked up his tray, and moseyed off.
Kadir finished his rubbery chicken and soupy mashed potatoes before stacking his empty tray with the other dirty ones and heading to the bathroom. Another prisoner occupied the third stall and was emptying his rotten guts in it, judging by the stench.
By the time he exited the stall, fanning the air, Kadir was sure his black-and-blue face now held an added shade of green. The disgusting part was watching the nasty fuck exit the bathroom without washing his damn hands.
Holding his breath, Kadir entered the stall and locked the door. When he knelt near the base of the bowl, he drew a breath and nearly passed out from the lingering toxic fumes. I’m going to kill Ghost.
Kadir found the loose tile. He grabbed the flip phone and a folded piece of paper.
Ghost answered, “It’s about fucking time.”
“How come I didn’t know that you made moves on the inside like a crime boss?” Kadir asked.
“A ghost is invisible at all times.” Ghost laughed.
“Then how come this is the first time I’m learning about it?”
“Let’s me guess, you thought that you got through six years on the inside because you got six-pack abs and a winning personality?”
Kadir chuckled.
“Hey, you had my back in Afghanistan and I got you—and now apparently your girl.”
Kadir sobered. “What do you mean?”
“The junkie stripper with the heart of gold is crashing at my play cousin’s crib again.”
Kadir’s hand tightened on the phone as thoughts he shouldn’t have crossed his mind.
“I can tell by the change in your breathing that you need to get your mind out of the gutter. We’re boys for life, and I wouldn’t do you like that.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
“All right. Don’t answer that. You’re thinking about when I kissed Vaughn’s girl in Las Vegas that one time. I get it. But this ain’t that,” Ghost said. “Ms. Parker is at my crib because the crew intercepted an extraction order at T4S over the wire. K-man, they mentioned her by name.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and that’s not all,” Ghost said and then filled his buddy in on all that had happened before saying, “You were right, man. There is something very strange about your girl. She ain’t normal. And what’s worse is that I think that she’s in denial. Her and her friends.”
“T4S? Why in the hell are they interested in her?”
“You tell me and then we’ll both know. I’m fishing around, and I’ll let you know what I find. But it has something to with that reporter chick, too. Tomi Lehane. Her name came across the wire, too.”
“Then it has to do with the article.” Kadir lowered his voice. “T4S does a lot of government shit off the grid. Military work. Maybe the White House—”
“Yeah. That’s what my crew thinks, too.”
“But you don’t?”
“I’m on the fence. On one hand, what y’all saying makes sense. But too much shit about your girl ain’t adding up. You remember when you told me about seeing some guy fly against the wall?”
“Yeah?”
“I believe you now.”
“You do?”
“Man, she was hit by a speeding car according to the 911 calls we intercepted. She rolled down a twenty-foot embankment in the back of an ambulance and is a hell of a shooter. And she’s fine. While I was talking to her the other day, I tried to see how that bullet wound was healing up. I couldn’t even tell where she was shot.”
The floor shifted beneath Kadir. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it. Your girl is a freak—and not the good nasty kind either. She’s a freak of nature.”
35
Zeke refused to go to the hospital. It had been a miracle that he’d survived the wreckage and found help. Angel did what she could for him the first night, but when he coughed up blood and still refused to get help, she left. He’d lost ten pounds in three days and the constant pain turned his vengeance into an obsession. He promoted new heavies and placed them in charge of combing the city for Abrianna. However, the bitch was a magician or her people were loyal as fuck, because the streets weren’t talking.
His people were talking. Zeke caught constant stares and noticed how muthafuckas slacked off. Money for the first time came in light in a couple of districts. This morning he sent out enforcers to make up the difference in collecting kneecaps. The shit won’t come in light again.
Jermaine, his new number one heavy, entered the room with a knock.
Sitting in a pool of sweat, Zeke rolled his head in the door’s direction and had to blink hard to clear his blurred vision. “Yeah?”
“That Parker chick is on television,” he said.
“What?”
Jermaine crossed the room, retrieved the remote, and powered on the television to the correct channel. “She’s supposed to be coming up in the next segment. The Greg Wallace Show. You heard of it?”
Zeke pulled up out of his seat, his strength renewed.
* * *
Abrianna and Tomi settled into the guest chairs for the Greg Wallace’s show. A makeup artist buzzed around, powdering their faces, while a sound guy miked them up. “Are you sure that you’re ready to do this?” Tomi asked.
Hell, no. The general public was cruel and judgmental. Since her story broke, the country had scurried into partisan corners. Part of the country believed that Abrianna was a pawn for the opposition party and that she’d set up or framed the president. Another part of the country declared her a hero, according to public polling. However, all agreed that this latest political scandal was bigger than Watergate, Monica Lewinsky, and Russian hacking combined. However, she wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing it for Kadir. “Bree?” Tomi inquired again. “Are you ready?”
“I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” she answered.
Attorney Joseph Bowen rushed onto the set and took the last seat on Abrianna’s right with a grunt. “Sorry I’m late, ladies.”
The makeup girl turned her attention toward the attorney with a gasp.
Tomi put in her earpiece.
Abrianna saw her and did the same. The instant chatter in her ear caught her off guard. She followed instructions when a male voice told her to nod if she could hear them.
“We’re live in two minutes,” the producer said.
Tomi squeezed Abrianna’s hand.
Abrianna smiled but her nervousness remained. This wasn’t like stepping on a stage with a cocaine bump. It was far from it. On stage, she could pretend to be someone else. The customers were free to fantasize that she was anyone they wanted her to be. Baring your soul was far different than baring your body.
The two minutes it took before the camera’s red light flashed on was the longest and shortest time that she’d ever experienced.
Greg Wallace blasted into her ear, “Joining us now via satellite is Ms. Abrianna Parker for her first live interview. As many of you know, Ms. Parker is at the heart of this latest D.C. scandal that involves the leader of the free world and his chief justice appointee Katherine Sanders plotting and killing the United States House speaker Kenneth Reynolds, all to avoid impeachment. It doesn’t get any juicier than this, folks.”
The host went on to summarize how Tomi’s blockbuster story rocked the political world for his audience before he extended his greeting. “Ms. Parker, welcome to the show.”
Abrianna cleared her throat. “Thanks. I’m pleased to be here.”
Wallace continued, “I guess that I should start off by saying that this is one hell of a story. One, I’m sure, Ms. Lehane, has landed you solidly in the history books.”
“It certainly belongs there,” Tomi gushed.
“We should also let the audience know that you and Ms. Lehane have quite the history. Both of you are now the only survivors of serial killer Dr. Craig Avery. Is this why, Ms. Parker, you brought the story to Ms. Lehane?”
“I, uh, yes.” Abrianna cleared her throat again. “I didn’t know anyone else in the media to get my story out.”
Wallace then took a moment to recap the Dr. Craig Avery case before asking, “In this President Walker scandal, can you please tell our audience how it is that you came to be in at the Hay-Adams Hotel the night House Speaker Reynolds was killed?”
“I . . .” Cough. “I was hired,” Abrianna answered.
“Hired? Meaning that you were . . . how should I say . . . a lady of the evening?” Wallace asked. “Is that fair?”
Another cough. “That’s correct.”
“Who hired you?”
“Mr. Reynolds was my client,” she admitted. From there, she was drilled on every detail of that night. When they cut to commercial, Abrianna was handed bottled water, which she chugged greedily. Her nervousness must have been obvious because in her ear, the producer reassured her how well she was doing.
At the first opportunity, she pled her case for Kadir. “What is upsetting to me now is that Mr. Kahlifa is being held without charge. The man is a hero. He saved my life. To punish him for doing that isn’t justice . . . or very American.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Parker, I understand why you would feel this way. But there is the matter of the airport bombing that’s still being investigated. That happened, according to your account, before you infamously dove into the backseat of his car.”
“Yes. But Mr. Kahlifa was an Uber driver. He didn’t know the two men that he’d dropped off at the airport. The fare was logged into his Uber account. A neighbor of Mr. Kahlifa has even stepped forward and admitted that he referred the Al-Sahi brothers to Mr. Kahlifa that morning. There is no ambiguity here. The FBI is looking for a scapegoat because for whatever reason, they have no answers to give to the public on who the Al-Sahi brothers were or to which terrorist group they’d pledged their allegiance. They only know that all the men were Arabs and, I guess, in their minds, they were all guilty.”
“Whoa! That’s a pretty wild accusation,” Wallace said, clearly happy that she’d said something controversial on his program.
“There is no other reason, as far as I can see.”
Attorney Bowen cut in and informed the audience that he and his partner were also representing Mr. Kahlifa and that the FBI weren’t saying anything as to why they were still holding his client.
As the hour-long interview wrapped up, the host threw the speedball at Abrianna. “Ms. Parker, I would be remiss if I didn’t take this moment to ask you about another scandal that, amazingly, involves another member of your family. Your father: Cargill Parker.”
Abrianna froze.
“I’m sure that you’ve heard about him being swept up in a child-sex trafficking ring at the private Lynnwood Club. Is there anything that you can tell our audience about that?”
She blinked. An awkward and uncomfortable pause ensued live on camera.
“Ms. Parker,” Wallace tried again, “do you care to comment? Have you been in contact with your father?”
Tomi stretched a hand out again and gave Abrianna another squeeze of support.
Abrianna drew a deep breath and injected steel into he
r spine despite the knots rolling in her gut. It was time to face one of the monsters.
“Yes. I heard about the charges against my adoptive father. I am . . . relieved that his money can no longer protect him. He’s a sick man. And after all that I’ve been through these past six years, I’ve never regretted the day that I ran away from that house. I only regret that I haven’t been strong enough to go after my adopted father myself.” Her bottom lip trembled as a lone tear streaked down her face.
“Thank you, Ms. Parker,” Wallace said in her ear. “I admire your strength for coming onto the program and sharing your story with us.”
“My pleasure.”
The camera’s red light shut off. Tomi and Mr. Bowen congratulated her on her performance. She appreciated their praise; however, it was her own sense of accomplishment that made her proud.
* * *
President Walker shut off the television after Abrianna’s interview and unleashed a stream of expletives that burned Kate’s ears. She, as well as Donald Davidson, knew that the beautiful Abrianna Parker had just won America’s heart with that dynamic performance. The single tear streaking down her beautiful face at the end was an especially nice touch.
After a full minute of his temper tantrum, Kate grew bored and marched toward the door.
“And where the fuck do you think that you’re going?” Walker barked.
She answered without stopping, “To get my measuring stick. I can start preparing to change these awful gold draperies.”
36
The White House
For the second time in history an American president sat before a camera and addressed the nation with a resignation speech. Despite the coiffed hair, pressed suit, and lifted chin, devastation blanketed his face.
“Tonight, I come before the American people, not only as your president, but as a humbled man. I’m sure that, by now, most of you have heard the serious and unfounded accusations leveled at me in connection to House Speaker Kenneth Reynolds’s death. It is important that the American people hear directly from me, regarding these baseless charges. I am as shocked as everyone to learn that my recent appointee to the Supreme Court, Chief Justice Katherine Sanders, had an alleged part in the speaker’s murder, but the surveillance video that we’ve all seen on the news taken from the scene of the crime leaves little doubt.
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