by Nico Jackson
"I need someone I can trust. We'll be running a lot of money through it."
"Where is this money coming from?"
He smiled. "You don't have to worry about that."
"This sounds like you want me to launder money."
"I need help with my businesses. We got attorney client privilege."
"I don't feel comfortable with this."
He leaned forward."You need to listen to what I have to say. Bobby's in a lot of trouble."
"So what else is new?"
Jaylen ran a finger over his bottom lip. She thought she felt her panties shift. "He's done some dumb shit in his time, but now he's trying to get killed."
"You can't just stop there," she said. "Let's start at the beginning. What did he do?"
"Him and some of his dumb ass friends robbed a stash house on the East Side."
She put her hand over her mouth. "Sweet Jesus."
"They wore masks, but I guess somebody was taking too long. One of those knuckleheads called their friend by name. A girl at the house knew him from the neighborhood and gave him up. When the dealers caught up with him, he gave up everybody on the crew. He said it was Bobby's idea. There's a price on their heads, Kendra."
"You made an appointment tell me that?"
"I came here because he needs help. So do I."
"I don't understand. What do you have to do with any of this?"
"I'm the only reason that he's still alive. They robbed one of Big Sam's houses. They're dead men walking. Bobby has my protection. Sam will lay off as long as I say so."
"How long will you say so?"
"As long as you work with me. It's up to you."
"And what makes it so you can protect him? Are you a gangster, too?"
"I'm a businessman," he said.
"So was the Godfather. I don't want to be involved in this."
"Sleep on it and give me your answer."
"You can have my answer now. I'm not getting involved in anything illegal."
He stood. He pulled a card out of his pocket and put it on her desk. "Sleep on it. I'll call you in a few days."
Kendra looked up and saw Isaac in her doorway. "What is it now? What do you want?"
He shifted from one foot to the other. "How's business?"
"Business is fine. Why do you ask?"
He strolled into her office and sat in one of the client chairs. "I hope you're doing well. I won't be referring any more clients to you."
She closed the file she was working on and leaned back in her chair. "Okay. You came all the way over here to tell me that?"
He leaned forward and put his elbows on her desk. "I know my referrals are big part of your business. What are you going to do if I stop sending them?"
She shrugged. "I'll be fine. What's your problem?"
"You'll be the one with the problem. I’ll convince everyone that I've referred to you I made a mistake. How much of your business do you think I can make walk out the door?"
She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could ruin her. "So do that."
"Of course, we could always work something out."
She stared at him.
He shifted in his seat. "I want you back. You know that. Why can't you listen to reason and come back home? "
"Home? The same home that you brought another woman to? I don't think so."
"You know I made a mistake. How many times do I have to apologize for it?" He smiled. "Come on, honey, you made your point. You left, you made me suffer. I'll be a good boy now, I promise."
"I doubt that. Doesn't matter what you do or say. I don't trust you, and I never will."
He smirked. "You're used to the finer things now. I'm not giving you a dime."
"I don't remember asking you for anything."
"You can't afford your lifestyle on you own."
"I'll guess I'll just have to see, won't I?"
"You talk a good game, honey, but I know you. You've gotten used to those designer clothes and that BMW you're driving. Are you going to give up aged steak and start eating beans and rice?"
She chuckled. "You're forgetting how much I like beans and rice. You don't remember where I came from. I didn't grow up with much. I know what it's like to struggle, and it doesn't scare me. You do you, babe. I'll be fine."
He got to his feet and adjusted his cuffs. "That's your problem," he said, pointing at her. "You're too damn stubborn for your own good."
She was heading for home when the phone rang. Bobby. She started not to answer it, but she thought whatever lie he was going to tell might be entertaining.
She hit the answer button. "What?"
There was a pause. "This is Kendra Mason?" a woman's voice asked.
"Who is this?"
"This is Anna Jensen. I'm social worker at Detroit General Hospital. You're the emergency contact for Robert Mason, Jr."
"I'm his sister. Has something happened to him?"
"He was brought into the emergency room. He was hurt pretty badly."
"I'm on my way." She grabbed her bag and headed out. When she got to Detroit General, Bobby was still in one of the bays.
She nearly dropped her bag when she saw him. His face was swollen; she barely recognized him. His eyes were so puffy that she couldn't tell whether they were open.
"He's on heavy pain killers," the nurse said. "He may not make a lot of sense."
She went to his side and put her hand on his. "Bobby?"
He turned his head slightly. "Kenny?" he whispered.
"I'm here. What happened?"
He shook his head. She sat in the chair next to his bed. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. A few minutes later, a man pulled the curtain aside.
"I'm Detective Stone. I need to ask Mr. Mason a few questions."
"What happened?"
Stone looked at her, then at Bobby. "I want to find that out. The doctor says he was beaten. I want to know who did it."
"You might want to come back. He's not saying anything."
"Are you his attorney?"
"I'm his sister. But yes, I am an attorney. He's not saying anything because of the drugs they gave him. I didn't mean anything else. I don't want you talking to him until he's lucid. I'm sure the questions can wait until morning."
"It's better if we question him while the memories are still fresh."
She waved her hand at Bobby. "Does he look like he will be able to tell you anything? Come back and see him in the morning."
"Are you trying to hide something?"
"Why would I have anything to hide? I'm here to make sure that my brother is okay."
"I'll come back when he's awake."
"You do that."
Stone left, and two doctors came in. The older one was an Indian woman. She was tiny, probably not even five feet tall. She was carrying a tablet. A young man with thick black hair followed her. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. He looked like he hadn't slept since before he shaved.
The woman held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Sharma. This is Dr. Ponti. You're Ms. Mason?"
Kendra nodded.
"Your husband—“
"Brother," she corrected.
"I'm sorry." She squinted at the tablet. "Your brother sustained head trauma, but his skull wasn’t fractured. Most of his ribs are broken. He took quite a beating."
"Will he be all right?"
"We’ll run more tests, but from what I’ve seen, he’ll make a full recovery. I'm going to admit him overnight for observation. I want to monitor him to make sure there's no brain swelling. I want him sedated so he can rest."
"There was a detective here."
"I talked to him. I told him he wouldn't be able to question him until tomorrow."
"Thank you."
"You should go home," she said. "He'll be down for the rest of the night. Come back in the morning. He’ll be in a room by then.”
She went to her car and got Jay's card out of her wallet. It had his cell phone number on it. She pull
ed out her phone and sent him a text.
* * *
OK. You made your point.
What point? Can you meet me in an hour?
I’m downtown. I can meet you now.
Good. Sending you the address.
3
There had to be something shady about what Jaylen wanted her to do, but she didn’t have much choice. If Isaac pulled his business, she’d be in deep trouble. She had savings, but there was no way she could live on the clients she would have left. She owned her house free and clear, but she was used to a certain lifestyle. She had bills to pay.
She had put on a good show for Isaac, but she wasn’t about to go back to living paycheck to paycheck.
Bobby had been beaten early in his prison term, but it hadn’t been nearly this bad. Whoever was after Bobby had sent a warning.
The next time, he might not live through it.
Jaylen’s house was in one of the upper middle class suburbs. A white brick ranch on a huge wooded lot. The front windows were nearly floor to ceiling.
She pulled the sun visor down and checked herself in the mirror before she got out of the car. She took in the front of the house. Two steps to the porch. Security cameras at each corner. The intercom sounded as she reached for the doorbell.
"Come on in. I'm in the kitchen."
She opened the door and went inside. The house looked like a typical suburban house from the outside, but the inside was magnificent. The white walls were covered with modern art. The dark hardwood floors gleamed from the sunlight that came through the windows.
The tan furniture was expensive and modern, and looked like a designer had placed it. She pulled off her shoes, left them by the door, and followed her nose. Whatever was cooking made her mouth water. She could smell onions, garlic, and chicken.
Jay was in the kitchen, standing in front of one of the island counter. He cut vegetables and tossed them into a salad bowl. He smiled when he saw her. "Thanks for coming."
"Did I have a choice?"
Jay chopped a red onion. "We always have choices, Kendra. It shows character, which choice you make."
She walked until she stood opposite him. "Bullshit. Somebody damn near killed my brother."
"It wasn't me, I swear. I told you, I have him under my protection. What happened? Is he okay?"
"He's in the hospital. The doctor thinks that he'll recover, but he looks like he went ten rounds with the heavyweight champ. You had nothing to do with this?"
"Of course not. If I'm protecting him, I wouldn't want him hurt. That is plain crazy."
He washed his hands and dried them. He turned to her. "I'm sorry, I should've offered you something to drink. I've got a nice chardonnay here. Unless you want red?"
"The white sounds fine. What's that I smell?"
"Roast chicken. I saw it on food TV. The lady calls it 'engagement chicken'. It's supposed to make whoever you cook it for want to marry you."
She rolled her eyes. "Does that line work on anyone?"
"I'm just telling you the story. It's good. You still eat chicken, don't you?"
"Yes."
"I took a chance. I remember you loved it when we were in high school. But people change. Me, I like a good steak."
"So do I. But I don't eat red meat often."
"I hear you. I like to eat healthy. It's not just food, it's fuel." He went to the refrigerator and pulled a bottle of wine out. He opened it and poured two glasses. He handed one to her.
He was entirely too close. He smelled good, and he looked even better. The gray knit shirt hugged his physique, showing off his muscled torso and slim waist. He was wearing a pair of black jogging pants, and his large feet were bare.
"I don't know what you're capable of. I don't even know how you make your money."
"I told you, I'm a businessman. I invest in real estate. I'm thinking about buying some businesses, and that's where you come in. I need you to take a look at some of the proposals I've gotten."
"You can have anybody do that for you. Be honest with me. What is this about?"
He didn't say anything for a while. He looked at her over the rim of his wineglass. "I'm sorry dinner's not ready, he said. "I thought I would have more time."
"You're not answering my question, Jay. Why me?"
"I told you that I trust you."
"You don't even know me," she said. "We haven't seen each other since the last class reunion."
“We were friends back in the day. I never forgot what you did for me. Just because we haven't seen each other, doesn't mean I haven't been keeping track of you. I've been following your career, and I'm impressed. You were the smartest girl I knew.”
"That sounds like you're a stalker."
He laughed. "I'm not a creep, I promise. You have everything on LinkedIn and Instagram. It's easy for me to keep up with you. You don't want anybody to know anything, then you need to keep your ass off social media. You still married?"
"Why would you ask me that?"
"I noticed you're not wearing a ring. Haven't seen your husband in your Instagram pictures lately."
"We're separated."
"Good. He's not good enough for you."
"Do you know him?"
"We’re not friends, but I know who he is. I've seen him around."
"You don't know me, and you don't know him. Don't assume."
"Yes ma'am. I decided a long time ago that I'm always gonna go after what I want. That's how I got to where I am."
"You're blackmailing me into doing business with you. Is that how you get what you want?"
"I'm not blackmailing you. If you want to be mad at anybody, it needs to be Bobby. He's the one that fucked up, not me. I'm trying to make the best out of a bad situation.”
“Excuse me if I don’t throw you a parade.”
“I didn't have to come to you. I didn't have to warn you. If I hadn't stepped in, he would be in the morgue.”
“Why are you so generous?”
Jay grunted. “I couldn’t care less about Bobby. He’s a fuckup, always has been. But he’s your brother, and I do care about you. He thought he could play Sam. I worked out a deal that can benefit both of us.”
"You think I'm a fool. No real estate investor has the juice to stop Big Sam. Tell me what you really do. I've had enough of men lying to me."
“I’m telling you the truth. I’ve known Sam since I was a kid. He sponsored our AAU teams.” He looked at the clock, then at her. "Let's sit down. We have some time before the chicken is ready. I'll tell you everything.”
They sat at the bar, and he set his drink down. He turned his chair so it faced her. "Look at me," he said softly. "I won't ever lie to you."
"It's not dope money?"
"I sold some Black Magic a long time ago, I'll admit that. Sam had the best molly around. I worked some of the clubs, and I made some bank. I didn't do it long, haven't done it for years. I know what drugs did to your family. I swear, I'm out of it. It's not how I made most of my money."
She put her drink down and faced him. "Go ahead."
"I went to Central Michigan on a basketball scholarship. That part you know. I knew I wasn't good enough to go pro, so I was serious about my classes. I thought I would go into marketing. I graduated, got a job, and started hosting poker games. Some of the guys on the team had gone to the league, and they had a lot of money. They liked to play, so I had a game every weekend. Then it got to be twice a week. They were ballers, and they knew other ballers. I ran a tight game, and everybody had a good time. I only took referrals, and even then I checked them out before they could play. I had good security.
There was never any money at the games, so we never got robbed. All my books had code names. I moved the location around. I made a lot of money. I bought rental property. I made more money. Then Big Sam decided he wanted the game. So I retired. I wasn't gonna fight him on it. He gave me a nice chunk of change, and I went on my way. That's where the money came from. I had so much I put it in safe deposit b
oxes in three different banks. I need you to clean it for me.”
“You are aware money laundering is against the law.”
“I ran card games, Kendra. It’s not like I brought down the Twin Towers.”
"The money Sam gave you is dope money."
"You can’t prove it. Nobody else can, either.”
4
THREE MONTHS LATER
Kendra parked her car and took a good look at the club. The parking lot was riddled with potholes. The building’s facade showed some wear. The neon sign didn’t light up all the way. She figured the roof would have to be replaced in a few years.
She had planned to wait in her car until Jay arrived, but that was blown all to hell by the bouncer. He was a mountain of a man, well over six feet tall. He had probably played football at some point in his life. He had offensive linemen written all over him. There was muscle under the fat, and he seemed light on his feet. He was as ugly as he was fat. His face was acne scarred, and he had large round eyes. Kendra thought he looked like a giant Mr. Potato Head.
He motioned for her to roll down the window. "You can't sit here, Miss."
"I have an appointment with Ralph Boniface in about 10 minutes."
He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. The parking is mandatory valet. You have to turn over your car, and one of the boys will take care of it."
Of course.
Pay for the valet.
Pay to check your coat.
Pay the cover.
Pay for the overpriced food and drinks.
Tip the servers.
Tip the dancers.
Strip clubs were money sucks. That was the reason she was there.
"I'll do that now."
He nodded. "Thanks for cooperating. You meeting someone?”
“Yes.”
“A man?”
“Does it matter?”
He shook his head. “We don’t allow unescorted females. We’ve had some problems with women hunting down their men.”
Kendra laughed. “I bet you have. I’ll wait for him by the door, I promise.”
“Thanks. I’m Tiny, if you need anything.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Tiny.”
Tiny blushed. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”
