Episode 1: Dirty Money Dirty Deeds, #1

by Nico Jackson

  Dirty Money Dirty Deeds

  Episode 1

  Nico Jackson

  Iceflo Publishing

  This Complete Book is Copyright (c) 2019 by NorthStar Studios

  Dirty Money Dirty Deeds (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2019 by NorthStar Studios

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this specific publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of NorthStar Studios

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  1

  She knew it was Bobby as soon as her phone vibrated. He always called right after lunch. He said if he ate quickly, he could beat everyone to the phones and not have to stand in line. It always made her smile to think about him slamming down his food and quick-stepping to the phone. She looked at the calendar. It was only Wednesday.

  "Are you willing to accept a call from an inmate at a Michigan correctional facility?" The mechanical voice said.

  "Yes." There were a few clicks and a little static.

  "Hey sis, how you doing?"

  "I'm good. I'm surprised to hear from you. Is it Thursday already?"

  He laughed. "It'll be Thursday every day soon."

  "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

  "I'm getting out. My parole came through."

  She covered her mouth. "I thought you had another year."

  "It's a new program. The prisons are overcrowded, so they're letting some of us go early."

  "Seriously? When do you get out?"

  "Friday."

  She stood and walked in front of her desk. "Stop playing with me. Day after tomorrow?"

  He chuckled. "Day after tomorrow. Nine a.m. Can you come get me?"

  She stopped pacing. "You are serious, aren't you?"

  "I've never been more serious about anything in my life. I'm coming home. I'm done with this. There's one more thing."

  With Bobby, there was always one more thing. It seemed like she had spent her whole life cleaning up his mess. "What?"

  "I need a place to stay. It's part of my parole."

  "You're not giving me much time, but I guess I can find you a place."

  There was a pause. "No, you don't understand. With this new program I got to stay with a relative."

  Damn. She took a deep breath before she answered. "Not a good idea."

  "It's a condition of my parole. If I can't stay with you, I don't get out."

  "Let me guess. You already told them you'd live here."

  "I had to. It's our house. I got a right to stay there."

  "I bought you out, remember? You want to talk about that?"

  "I was young," he said. "I did some stupid shit. What about the carriage house? Would that be too much trouble?"

  "Dammit Bobby, you know why!"

  "That was then," he said. "I'm clean. I haven't used in years. I'm ready to start over. I'm ready to be a working man. And I'll prove to you that I changed."

  "I'll think about it."

  "Are you going to pick me up? Or do I have to try to get an Uber? You promised Mom you'd be in my corner. Now you got money, and you forget about me."

  "Really, Bobby? You don't want to go there."

  He didn't say anything.

  "Who kept money on your books? Who keeps topping up this phone account so you can call whenever you want? Who paid for rehab? Don't try to bullshit me. Don't take kindness for weakness."

  "I'm sorry," he said in a soft voice. "It's just I'm excited about getting out, and it don't seem like you care."

  "Oh, I care. I don't want to see you go back again."

  "I ain't never coming back. You don't know what it's like in here. So can I count on you?"

  She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Don't I always come through for you?"

  "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. You always do. I'll see you on Friday morning?"

  "I'll be there." She disconnected the call and put her phone on the desk. Bobby had always been a problem. He was just like their father. He had their father's good looks and charm.

  Their daddy was a drinker. Bobby liked cocaine. He thought he could talk his way out of anything. It worked, for a while. He managed to slide out of any trouble he landed in.

  He got two possession convictions. The first one was for holding a half gram of weed. He was sentenced to rehab and community service. He stayed clean for a while.

  He got busted again. Cocaine this time. He couldn't talk his way out of it. He got five years in prison.

  She leaned back in her chair and thought for a minute. She was using the cottage behind her house for storage. She would clean it out and buy some cheap furniture. It wouldn't be fancy, but it would be better than a prison cell.

  She looked up when she heard a soft knock on the doorframe. Her soon-to-be ex-husband was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a custom-made gray suit and white shirt. She had bought him the tie. She tried to remember if it had been for Christmas or his birthday. Christmas, she decided.

  "I need to talk to you about something. Is everything okay?"

  "I just talked to Bobby. He's getting paroled."

  Isaac shook his head and pressed his lips together. "He needs to stay in prison."

  "You never liked him."

  Isaac closed the door and perched on the edge of her desk. "He's irresponsible."

  "He's an addict."

  Isaac smirked and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. He's a hood rat. That's not gonna change."

  "You married a hood rat, then."

  "No," Isaac said. "You made something of yourself. He'll stay in the gutter. He's done nothing but drag you down. How much will it cost you this time?"

  She looked at him and wondered what she ever saw in him.

  Isaac was fine. Too fine. He had smooth caramel colored skin and hazel eyes. He had his hair and beard trimmed every week, and he stayed in the gym. You could scrub laundry on those abs. He always smelled good. He was smart, he was fun, but he was a lousy husband. Just an upscale version of Bobby. Looked great on the outside, nothing on the inside. He had money. But she had her own money, and he wasn't worth the trouble.

  "What did you want to talk to me about? Did you sign the papers?"

  "I'm not signing them."

  She leaned forward. "We had an agreement."

  Isaac shrugged. "I changed my mind."

  "I haven't."

  "We can go to counseling."

  "No, you can sign the papers and let me go on my way."

  "I love you, Kendra."

  "Yeah, right."

  "I made a mistake."

  "Now you sound like Bobby," she said.

  Bobby's face fell when he stepped into the room and looked around. "It's smaller than I remember."

  "Is it bigger than your cell?"

  He looked at Kendra and let out a long breath. "I didn't mean nothing, Kenny. It's fine."

  It should be.

  She had spent two days moving things into the basement of the house. She had scrubbed the walls and floors. The carriage house had large windows high on the walls, and the place was filled with light. There was a double bed with new linens. A dresser against the back wall. The
kitchen area had a new table with two chairs. There was a black sofa in the middle of the room, and a fifty inch tv.

  "You're hooked up to my wifi," she said. "I opened a Netflix account for you. It's paid up for the year."

  "Cool," he said.

  She handed him a cell phone. "I put three months on the phone. I figured that'll be enough time for you to get on your feet."

  He stared at her for a moment, then threw his arms around her. She was startled. She hadn't been able to hug him in almost three years. They only talked on the phone or with a piece of plexiglass separating them.

  "Thanks," he said. "You even got me a laptop."

  "I figured you could use it to look for work."

  He let her go and took a step back. "I'm not gonna let you down."

  "I hope not. What do you want for lunch?"

  He grinned. "Ribs."

  "Sounds good. I'll let you get settled in. Let's go to Slow's later."

  He wrinkled his nose. "Nah, I want some hood barbecue. Let's pick something up."

  * * *

  Bobby peered out of the car window at a young man mowing his lawn. "Is that a white dude? He lives there?"

  "Yeah. The neighborhood is changing. This is one of the hot spots in the city now."

  They had grown up in a neighborhood of old homes just north of downtown. Back then, the block was filled with families who took pride in how their homes looked. It was a working class neighborhood, and everyone looked out for each other. As the old neighbors died or moved away, new ones took their place. Young white professionals, mostly.

  Bobby pushed back from the table, patted his belly, and let out a long moan. "That was good," he said.

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Do you have plans for later?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing special. I might try to catch up with some of the guys, see what's going on."

  "Don't you have to take a urine sample in the morning?"

  "You worry too much. I told you, I got this. I've changed since I've been inside. I'm not going back, Kenny. Not ever."

  She hoped he wasn't lying to her again.The last time they lived together, the televisions went missing. And the microwave. Kendra had learned that dope fiends don't care, they do anything to get that high. The TV in the carriage house was cheap. If he sold it, it wouldn't hurt her.

  Actually, it wasn't the money that bothered her. It was the fact that he lied so much. He was just like their father. If there were contests for bad fathers, Robert Mason, Sr. Would have taken the grand prize. When he wasn't in jail, he was laying up with other women. She had never understood why their mother didn't walk away from him. It wasn't like he was any help, anyway. She worked two jobs to make sure the family had what they needed. Robert would stumble in drunk from time to time, demanding to see his kids. Kendra never wanted anything to do with him. Bobby, on the other hand, thought he was the best thing ever. Bobby looked just like, and acted just like him.

  "Are you sure I can't stay with you?"

  "I'm sure. You'll be comfortable."

  He looked at his hands. Then he got up and started to clear the table. That was different. Their mother had always waited on him hand and foot. Part of his problem, Kendra thought.

  * * *

  Bobby got a job unloading trucks at Target. He left every morning on time, and he came back and stayed home. The Target wasn't far from her office so if he had a morning shift, she dropped him off. That meant he could get up two hours later. The buses never seemed to be on time, and they didn't run frequently. Bobby was always glad on the days she dropped him off.

  Then he changed his schedule. He would come home, change clothes and leave. He got in late. If he didn't go out, he was having visitors. His lights would be on after she went to bed.

  Then she got a call from his parole officer.

  “Ms. Mason, this is George Campbell. I’m your brother’s parole officer.”

  Kendra massaged her forehead. “How can I help you?”

  "I'm concerned about your brother. He's missed a substance abuse counseling session. If he misses two more, I have to violate."

  "What is that mean exactly? Is that because of a the special program?"

  There was a long pause. "Special program? What are you talking about?”

  "He told me he got out early because he was on a special program. Something about overcrowding."

  "He got out because he informed on another inmate. Nothing special about that."

  She tried not to throw her phone against the wall. "So I guess he didn't have to live with me, either."

  "We encourage support from our parolees' family. That helps with re-entry. But no, he's not required to live with a relative."

  That son of a bitch.

  "I've already said too much. I wanted to let you know what is going on. He gave me permission to talk to you. He said you're his only living relative."

  "There's only the two of us. I appreciate you taking an interest in him."

  "He's bright, and he could do a lot better. He isn't motivated. He talks a good game, but his follow-through is weak. I want to see all my clients succeed. Bobby reminds me of my youngest son."

  "Is there anything that he can do to change your mind?"

  "The guidelines are clear. I'll do everything I can to help him, but he's got to help himself."

  "That's always been his problem. He always takes the easy way out."

  "I've seen a lot of my clients get over cocaine addictions. The key is to not fall in with the same old crowd. He has to form new habits, and if he doesn't, he'll be right back to where he started. He told me he hated prison. It's not supposed to be summer camp. If he doesn't want to go back, he's got to do the work."

  2

  She decided to leave her brother alone. Any time she tried to give him advice or warn him, he always got pissed off. He was going to do whatever he wanted, anyway.

  Her mother had warned her that Bobby would need taking care of. Elise Mason had been battling cancer for two years, and she weighed about 100 pounds near the end. She always took pride in her appearance, but her illness made her look like a scarecrow. She was small and weak, not the woman Kendra had grown up with. She knew her end was near, and she kept talking about the future.

  "Going to have to look after your brother," Elise said.

  "He doesn't listen to me. He thinks he knows what he's doing."

  Elise managed a weak laugh. "You know he's like your father. Robert always thought that he knew more than anybody else. If he was half as smart as he thought he was, he wouldn't be locked up all the time."

  Kendra shook a bottle of nail polish. She held it up so her mother could see it. "What about this color?"

  "What shade is that? Hoe red?"

  Kendra laughed. "I thought you might like a little color this time."

  "I might as well change some things up. What do I have to lose?" She laughed, but it ended in a coughing fit. Kendra handed her a tissue, and she held it to her mouth. The sound was terrible. She had been coughing like that for months, and Kendra had never gotten used to it. Elise stopped coughing, wiped her mouth, and added the tissue to the pile that was in the wastebasket.

  She leaned into the pillows as Kendra polished her nails. "You know, I've always been proud of you. I didn't do a good job when I chose your father, but you managed to do me proud.

  Kendra nodded. She knew if she tried to talk, she would end up crying.

  "Promise me something, Kendra. Don't ever end up like your father. Be better. I know you will, but I just had to say it."

  Kendra's desk phone rang and startled her out of her memories.

  "Kendra, your two o'clock is here."

  She grabbed a tissue, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and straightened her shoulders. She opened her desk drawer and took a look in the mirror. Her makeup was still in place. She straightened her sweater. She wore a pink cashmere V neck, black stretch wool pants, and a pair of black pumps. It was the outfit she wore when she wanted to feel confid
ent. The pants and sweater fit her curves like a glove. She was 5'8", so she stood six feet tall in her Louboutins.

  She hadn't seen Jaylen Sinclair in years. Kendra had a serious crush on him when they were in high school. He was on the boys' basketball team, and she played on the girls' team. Kendra thought he saw her as just another one of the guys. He dated the captain of the cheer team.

  She went out to the reception area. He stood when she came into view. He was even better looking than she remembered. Still tall, of course, but he had grown a beard. It hid his dimples, but he still had that smooth dark chocolate skin. He smiled, and she felt the same flash of heat she had when she was seventeen.

  She held her hand out. "I was surprised to see you on my schedule. How have you been?"

  He ignored her hand and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm good. I see you're still fine."

  He smelled good. Too good.

  She glanced at the receptionist, who seemed suddenly interested in her computer monitor.

  "Come to my office," she said. "We can talk about what brought you to me."

  He smiled, and she thought that her heart had stopped beating.

  "Yeah," he said. "We got a lot to talk about."

  They went into her office and she closed the door. She waited for him to sit down in the client chair, and went behind her desk.

  He looked around, then nodded to himself. "Looks like you're doing good for yourself, Kendra. This is a nice office."

  "Thanks. I'm doing fine. You need a tax attorney?"

  He put his elbows on the arms of his chair. "Yeah, something like that."

  She leaned back in her chair. She decided to wait until he started talking again.

  It took a moment, but he shifted in his seat. "I need help setting up some businesses."

  "I don't like to turn away clients, but you could get a corporate lawyer to do that."