Spade and I had just gotten back from hitting up Detroit, plus getting into it. It was time for me to start cutting the strings I had to people. “You can quit talking that nonsense,” I flipped her off. “Be patient. We’ll be up and out of here in a few more days, at most.” I was tired of pacifying Lezlee. It was time to murk her and get it over with already. I was tired of having her lurking around as a liability.
“I swear time ain’t ticking fast enough,” she huffed, then flopped down onto the bed. “If you don’t make good on your word to get me up out of here within the next few days, I’m leaving on my own,” she threatened.
Whap!
Before I knew it, I’d lost my cool and openhandedly smacked her in the back of the head, making her fly like a ragdoll across the room. She looked up shocked, but I wasn’t done. “I’ve been trying to take it easy with your smart-talking ass, but you’re taking me to the point of no return quickly. Don’t make me do you in like I did your boss.” My hot breath was harsh in her face as I spit each word out unforgivingly. My evilness needed to be etched into her memory. I wasn’t the man of her dreams if it consisted of me being a punk.
“Okay-okay,” she cried out, curled up in a fetal position on the bed. Whimpering lightly for a few minutes, she looked up at me for pity. “Can you go grab some shower gel from the front desk so I can take a bubble bath? Maybe that’ll help me relax.”
“Yeah, why not? I’ll at least give you a chance to get your mind right. Blow on this blunt too.” I passed her the swisher I’d been getting lifted on.
After grabbing the cash to pay the attendant for the next few days of our stay, I left Lezlee peeling herself off the floor looking pitiful.
Mrs. Taylor
All of the things in the condo Robert and I shared were either sold off or packed up. For the rest of my days, I’d be spending it underneath the sun in California. The Windy City hasn’t given me anything but misery and lonely days. Once Detroit finished pussy-footing around with the investigation and autopsy, the insurance company could close the case on their end and forward me the remaining balance of Robert’s policy. I was eager to get the check and add it to the money that wasn’t gambled up.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Hello, this is Carolyn Taylor,” I answered my sounding cell to the private calling number.
“Hi, Mrs. Taylor, this is Lezlee, your husband’s assistant. I’m in a lot of trouble and need your help.” Her words were fast, run together, and at a whisper.
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it in disbelief. This young girl has been refusing to answer my texts and calls, plus is a prime suspect in Robert’s infidelity and murder, yet she was contacting me for help. She must’ve been high on some cheap street drug to be reaching out for my help.
“Mrs. Taylor, are you still there? If you help me, I can help you. I know who killed your husband.”
I let out a long, exasperated sigh, then rolled my eyes out of frustration. I was going to bury Robert more than six feet under, just to make sure he didn’t rise miraculously and start back haunting me with dysfunction. I’ve been dealing with side chicks and his revolving door of sleazy assistants he hired and fired. “Come on now, honey, it’s obvious you’re part of the crew who robbed and killed my husband. You’ve already helped yourself to his dick, money, and life—what’s left that I can help you with?” I purposely left out that she’d helped herself to the HIV Robert never told women he was infected with. Homewrecking hoes deserved ill turns of fate to hit them upside the head unexpectedly.
“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Taylor,” Lezlee tried, begging me to listen.
“Sell your game to the cops whenever they catch up to you. I could care less if your parents have to bury you first, to be honest.” I hung up in her ear, then called Officer Brickman again. When he sent me to voicemail, I left a detailed message that I’d contact him once I landed, then powered my phone off knowing there was no one else for me to talk to.
Honk-Honk! Honk!
The taxi was here. It was time to dismiss everything from my past and live whatever future I had left. I was tired of living the life of a bitch. Climbing into the backseat, I smiled—ready for a new adventure. “O’Hare International Airport, please.” I folded my hands in my lap, all proper like.
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver replied, then pulled away from the curb. It goes without saying; I never glanced back over my shoulder. Carolyn Taylor was officially signing off.
Rocko
Lezlee was so busy begging the dead man’s wife for help that she didn’t hear me crack the door open or tiptoe inside. It was hard not to choke the soul out of Lezlee’s body as I listened to her beg for help and attempt to turn me in. My fate could have been sealed had Mr. Taylor’s wife been willing to be her savior, but she shut Lezlee down and hung up on her. It was time to get her out of the way—for good.
“Hey, baby,” she purred when I finally walked back into the room. “What took you so long?”
Already naked, I would’ve pounced on her ass like a hungry dog if my plan wasn’t mapped out to murk her. Instead of thinking with my dick, I thought with my mind and chose to play mind games with her for fun. “I fell back for a minute to think about what you wanted, and you might be right. Both shares of cash might be enough for us to start off in another city.” I was enjoying every second of looking into her eyes and lying through my teeth. This bitch had no meaning to me and no space in my heart. A stone-cold killer was stroking her.
She screamed to the top of her lungs out of happiness, then jumped in my arms celebrating what she thought was a sentimental moment. “Yes-yes-yes, Rocko, you just made my night. Those are the only words I wanted to hear.”
“Here, go take your bubble bath. I’ll be in to rub you down in a minute.” I gave her the final kiss she’d ever feel or receive from a man.
When she got into the bath, I went into the mind-set of a killer—no longer the lover she adored or wanted to be on the run with like Bey and Jay. Since she couldn’t help but break the rule and use the phone, it only seemed right for her to die by the same weakness. I unplugged the phone cord from the receiver and the handset, then stuffed it inside of my pocket.
“Come on in here, baby. The water’s getting cold,” she called out for me, not knowing what she was asking for. I was heartless when I entered the bathroom. Her smile flipped an even colder switch in my soul, which made me know it was time to take hers. “What did you call Chicago for? Tell me what your plan was, Lezlee,” I spoke in a condescending tone.
She recognized the trouble she was in. Lezlee tried jumping out of the tub. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she sniffled and yowled violently. “I promise I didn’t tell her anything, Rocko. Baby, please don’t kill me,” she begged for her life.
“Shut the fuck up with all your lies!” I shoved her with all of my power. She tripped over the edge of the tub, hit her head on the wall, and then fell. I felt a tinge of satisfaction. “Your words mean nothing to me, Lezlee. Save whatever explaining you gotta do for your ex-boss when you meet him in the afterlife.”
All I saw in front of me was a snitch bitch as I pulled the phone cord from my pocket and wrapped it around her neck. Lezlee’s body jerked as she fought, scratched, and kicked in an attempt to loosen my grip. My wrath couldn’t be contained, though. The harder she tried fighting for her life, the more I pushed to take it. My mission was to make the thick plastic slice her skin open, but I let Lezlee’s limp body fall to the floor after I felt her lungs collapse from her last breath. Regret was written all over her face when I dropped her lifeless body into the tub of water and began cleaning up the murder scene.
Officer Brickman
I was sitting at my desk looking at the detailed report of the Taylor case when the captain shouted through the precinct for me. I almost spilled my fresh cup of coffee all over myself and the report. He’d been tap-dancing on my nerves all morning. Turning around annoyed and ready to spit out more slurs, I was forced to
have a change of mind. The mayor’s do-boy lackey lawyer stood side-by-side with my boss wearing a devilish grin. All lawyers were crooked, but this jaw-jacking Jew was getting rich by helping Detroit fall deeper into corruption. Each time his falsified paper-carrying-ass waltzes in and out of here with that black briefcase, the city I worked so hard to clean up regresses.
“Hello, Brickman. Good seeing you again but under such horrible circumstances,” the lawyer routinely greeted me. The guy was always transparent fake and a jerk.
I tried swallowing my pride by speaking and shaking his hand, but the dislike between us was mutual. As always, the tension between us could be cut with a knife. On my cop stance, I looked him up and down and noticed red marks around his neck. I wanted to question what the hell had happened, but being a crooked political official in Detroit—any repercussion was possible. Letting the thought go, I followed him into my captain’s office.
“Take a seat, Brickman. You know the rules,” Captain barked at me.
“I’m not interested in digesting any more bullshit, plus I’m solid on the routine. I think I’ll sit this one out.” Before he could respond, I dropped my report onto the lawyer’s black briefcase, then my resignation letter onto the captain’s desk. “To be real firm with both of you fine officers of the law, I’m tapping out on all of this. If you have any questions about my report, I’ll be clearing out my desk for the next ten minutes or so.”
“Slow your fucking roll, Brickman. Close that damn door and glue your fat ass to that seat. I will let you know when the force is done with you. Until then, it’s time to start covering up some crime.”
Detroit was doomed. When the mayor’s crooked attorney shut his black briefcase and shook my hand, my last official deal with the devil was done. I’d signed off on trumped up police work that would lead to the Taylor case closing under illegitimate pretenses. Three prop people will accept the charges and sentencing for Robert Taylor’s death under aliases, but won’t serve a day. My falsified reports in addition to the attorney’s affidavits were enough to keep red flags down, plus a trial wasn’t needed. The mayor closed all of his high-profile crime cases the same while managing to keep the media at bay. And the true criminals, of course, would never stand up. It was a win-win situation for everyone—but me.
“I’m so sorry to see you go, Brickman. The mayor and I thought you worked wonderfully as a part of this team. The city won’t be the same with you gone,” the attorney spoke sarcastically, then rose to leave. “And, Captain, I’m sure my boss will be in touch. We’re aiming to close this one out immediately so the ratings won’t be a bad look, of course. The city has taken enough hits over the years with black folks running it down. It deserves an honest chance at getting cleaned up.”
“That it does. Indeed, the city does,” I sarcastically agreed.
“Good day, gentlemen,” the attorney snickered, catching on to my wittiness.
Only two steps of the lawyer being out of the door, my ex-captain began reading me up and down. “Your ass is fried in this town, Brickman. You better hope you can survive on whatever pennies you’ve got saved up because any of your hopes of a recommendation from this desk or this city are certainly out of the window. What possessed you to come in here busting your balls like that?”
“Like I said earlier, I’m tired of this flimsy-ass police force. I mean, damn, aren’t you tired of having the mayor’s hand up your ass like a puppet?”
“Money makes the world go ’round; and you’re old enough to know that, Brickman. Drop your badge and weapon on my desk; you’re free to get the fuck on.”
“And you’re free to go fuck yourself, sir.” Walking out of his stale-smelling office for the last time, his words or the career I’d been making for myself didn’t mean anything in the twelfth hour. I swiped everything off of my desk into a box, then followed his last order efficiently—I got the fuck on.
Today, of all days, the sun beat down on my pale, white skin when I stepped foot outside of 1300 Beaubien’s door. A weight was lifted from off my shoulders for sure, but I felt like a letdown to the city I swore to uphold and protect. The mayor was so wrapped up in keeping his political tenure pristine that whatever blemish showed up on his crime stats couldn’t linger without being solved. My chest wasn’t covered with a badge of honor, and my waist wasn’t suited with a protection piece. For twenty years, I’d been a man of the law. But now, my life had changed.
Buzz, buzz, buzz!
Without a holster on my waist, it was easy to retrieve my vibrating phone. The out-of-state Chicago number flashed on the screen again, but Mrs. Taylor’s business was no longer mines. Slamming the company phone onto the concrete, I stomped on it to ensure every bit of metal broke up. Before climbing in my car, I hawked a big glob of saliva onto the cap’s car, then pulled my dick out and pissed all on the side of the door. I didn’t care who saw because, in this city, you’d have a hard time getting a soul to snitch. It was fuck the captain, the mayor, that crooked-ass Jew cop, and any crime that went down in Detroit. I was out.
15
Jakia
“Get the fuck out of my way before you get run down. Y’all ain’t got bumpers,” Spade yelled out of the rolled down window to the right-to-life picketers. Once clearing the path into the clinic’s parking lot, he turned in my direction and began running down the rules. “Hear me good, Jakia. We are here to get rid of this li’l fucker and not a thing else. Go up in here like the trooper I trained you to be and handle yo’ business. Don’t drop a tear or a hint that you want it. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yeah, whatever, Spade,” I whispered, reaching for the door handle. He didn’t have to continuously prepare me for going to kill our kid—or what might’ve been ours. I knew what he wanted and didn’t see a way to get what I desired. So, like tradition, he had it his way.
“Don’t think for one second I won’t snatch yo’ wig back in front of these white folks, girl.” His last warning could’ve gone without him saying.
My feet were barely on the ground before the same mob of protestors started running up to the car and making a huddle around me. Everywhere I looked was a lady yelling in my face about being pro-choice and giving my baby a chance at life—or a dead fetus, or photographs of God and religious stuff. I was overwhelmed and saddened by all of it, especially since I wasn’t torn about having an abortion but being forced to. I knew I couldn’t reach out or accept the pamphlets. I knew Spade would snatch me back into the car and beat the baby out of me if I tried reneging on this abortion. My heart ached as I pushed past them.
“The Lord won’t forgive you, my dear child. Take this pamphlet and think about your choices. Don’t kill your baby. You will be a murderer, and God will not forgive a murderer,” a gentle-looking lady tried persuading me.
“Aye, Grandma, get back with yo’ shit before I crack your head.” Spade knocked the pamphlets from her hands. She stumbled backward while looking at me for sympathy, but I couldn’t give her any.
“All you honkies better back up off me and my lady.” Spade threw a towel from the motel over my head and damn near suffocated me while dragging me inside. “Stop harassing us and leave my wife alone before I start dealing out ass whoopings!” By any means necessary, he was going to get our kid out of my womb.
Once inside, the receptionist immediately began apologizing for the protestors, then handed over a stack of medical history forms for me to complete. Spade stayed close to my side but at no point was he comforting. He wanted to make sure I didn’t write any help letters or answer any questions that would make the staff think I was being forced to abort or a victim of domestic violence. I initially skipped them but was nudged in the side. I knew better, so I answered “no.”
“Jakia Johnson,” the nurse called. That was the first time I’d heard my married name since the minister announced it at the courthouse.
Spade and I met with the doctor who was signing off on my abortion. He and Spade seemed to bond as he slid the $475 acro
ss the table, then pocketed the receipt. At no point did the doctor look at me or ask if this was something I wanted to do. Every day of my life, if nothing else, I learned cash ruled this evil world. And, yup, since I was with Spade, it must’ve ruled mine too.
“Right this way, Mrs. Johnson. And, sir, you can have a seat in the waiting room. Once the procedure is over, your wife will meet you back out there,” the nurse kindly spoke.
“Oh, hell naw, lady. I ain’t going nowhere till I see to it this abortion pill I paid good money for is popped,” Spade snapped, then grabbed my hand.
“You have to sit out here, sir. It’s against HIPPA policy. Your wife may be okay with you being a part of her procedure. However, this clinic cannot, under any circumstances, allow you to violate the privacy of other patients.” She opened and held the door for Spade to walk out, but he refused to move.
“You better bring those pills up in this muthafuckin’ room right here, then, ’cause I ain’t about to separate from my wife, yo.” He was determined to have his way.
The nurse looked at me, then spoke in a condescending tone. “Ma’am, is this something you want—or he wants? At this point, you can still get a refund because nothing but paperwork has been done.”
I thought about telling her the truth. Hell, I needed to tell her the truth. Killing my baby was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. If I went through with this medication abortion, I’d be killing part of myself. On the other hand, if I kept it, I’d be starting trouble with Spade, plus possibly breeding a dead man’s child. I answered knowing I couldn’t truly have this child, though I wanted to. “Of course, this is what I want. If I didn’t wanna get this li’l fucker up out of me—I wouldn’t be here.”
She rolled her eyes like she could sense I was lying but shut the door anyway. “Okay, this is the only compromise I can make. Ma’am, you come with me to finish your labs and ultrasound; and, sir, you wait here for us to return with the medication. Take that deal, or I’ll get the doctor in here to take care of your refund. I don’t have time for the back-and-forth.”
Graveyard Love Page 12
