Justified, page 5
Or, in this case, the reluctant prosecution team.
Charlie sat ramrod-straight and studied each juror’s face. They confirmed what she already knew before the trial had started.
Judge Bailey addressed the jury, “Have you reached a verdict?”
The foreman stood. “We have, Your Honor.” A slip of paper was handed over to the bailiff, who carried it over to the judge to read.
The judge made a big production of putting on his glasses and reading the verdict before handing it back to the bailiff.
“What is your verdict?” the judge asked.
“We, the jury, find Officer Victor Henry Caruso on the charge of murder in the second degree . . . not guilty.”
Charlie’s blood boiled as she listened to the foreman read the charges one by one, repeating the same outrageous verdict of not guilty. This was the American justice system. Charlie’s gaze sliced toward the defendants’ table. The four towering officers smiled and pounded each other on the back.
The state prosecutors turned toward the Warrens and the Rawlins and mumbled a load of bullshit about how sorry they were for losing the case.
Charlie ignored them. After all, she was next in the hot seat, where the same prosecutor’s office would be gunning for her on trumped-up drug charges.
“Let’s go.” Charlie slid on her sunglasses and led her sisters out of the courtroom.
Once again, a horde of cameras raced toward her. Each reporter was shouting one question: “What do you think of today’s verdict, Ms. Warren?”
“The justice system is a fucking joke,” Charlie growled into a microphone thrust underneath her mouth.
“You’re not happy with today’s verdict?”
“What do you think?”
Michael injected herself between Charlie and the microphone. “No comment.”
An hour later, Charlie watched her response play on a loop on CNN. Their paid pundits were divided between left and right politics.
Charlie listened for ten minutes and then muted the television.
“You sounded like the stereotypical, angry black woman,” Teddy commented, handing Charlie a large glass of wine.
“We have a right to be angry. Everyone always has their foot on our necks.”
Johnnie fretted. “I’m worried.”
“About what?” Charlie sipped her wine.
“Your case. If the system plays true to form, they’re going to put you away. We’re talking five to ten years mandatory, at a minimum.”
Charlie smiled at her twin. “Don’t worry about me. They’ve already done their worst. When this is all over with, they are the ones who need to worry about me.”
CHAPTER 7
Five years later, West Side Chicago
Big Red, the last of King Kong’s street captains, dipped out of a black Trailblazer, carrying two bulging black bags of cash. He waited half a minute for his driver and two flunkies to flank his side before he strolled toward the back of Lenny’s Pawn Shop. Four sets of eyes watched one of Red’s men jab the buzzer and then repeat the password into the speaker. Seconds later, the metal door swung open, and the men disappeared inside.
Like clockwork.
“Let’s move,” came the rough order.
Black ski masks covered four faces in the back of a nondescript black van. The armed robbers burst out of its back doors and hustled to the same metal door. They placed two C4 prop bombs on the door and took cover.
BOOM!
“Move it. Move it. Move it,” came the shouted order over the men’s ringing ears.
The moment they poured in through the back door, the four men were met with a hail of gunfire. But having watched where everyone was through hidden surveillance, the robbers were more than equipped to match the heavy artillery and pick everyone off with ease.
The gunplay lasted less than a solid minute, and it took even less time for the robbers to grab all the duffel bags of cash brought in from the hoods and the suburbia of Chicago. After another minute, the men were back in their black van and jetting off into the night.
* * *
Miss Alice’s Soul Food was open well past closing and serving only one customer: King Kong. He chomped on his plate of fried chicken, collard greens, yams, and corn bread while making small talk with the restaurant’s chef. In the middle of their conversation, Kong’s cell phone buzzed. Groaning, he wiped his fingers and scooped the phone from his pocket. Just once, he’d like to get through a meal without muthafuckas blowing him up.
“Yeah.” He grabbed his sweet tea and listened to the caller on the other end. “Say what?”
“They’re dead,” Birdie repeated. “They’re all dead, and the money is gone, too.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kong unfurled his mountainous frame from his chair and shoved the table back a good foot.
His four bodyguards snapped to attention.
“Who?” Kong demanded, marching toward the door.
Birdie stammered. “I-I have no idea. Whoever it was, the muthafuckas pulled a clean hit.”
“Bullshit,” Kong growled. “Did you pull the surveillance cameras?” he asked, climbing into the back of his whip.
“The cops got here too fast. Muthafuckas used explosives and woke two neighborhoods. But we got digital playback servers at your office. We can still see everything the cops have as soon as you get here.”
“Are the cops still there?”
“The cops, the media, and I’m betting pretty soon the mayor. I’m telling you. These muthafuckas caused one hell of a ruckus and left too many dead bodies.”
“Ramsey.” Kong swore.
“No offense, boss. But that nigga ain’t this muthafuckin’ bold.”
Kong shook his head. “Get the breast milk outcha mouth, nephew. I done told you too many times not to put no shit past no muthafucka. Where that nigga at?”
“At the Emperor’s Club. It’s his birthday.”
The Emperor’s Club
The Moonlight Club was long gone—renamed and rebranded under its sole owner’s image. It was still the hottest place to be, with famous artists sliding through to show Ramsey Holt some love. Tonight, in particular, the crowd had gathered to ring in his thirty-first birthday. Drinks were on the house—except for the expensive shit. He wasn’t fuckin’ crazy.
The place was packed wall to wall with the hottest people the city had to offer. The music’s bass thumped to the rhythm of everyone’s heartbeat. The hard, pulsing beats flowed through him like a conduit as he stood above the crowd and took it all in.
“My man, the world is yours,” Dominic cheered and held up his bourbon.
Ramsey lifted his glass. “Started from the bottom and now we’re here,” he joked before tapping the glasses of his closest friends.
Trudy, now wearing an eye patch and walking with a slight limp, sidled up beside his boss. “I bet Henny is looking down on you right now and is proud as fuck.”
Ramsey bobbed his head. “True. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for that real nigga. For real.” He tapped Trudy’s glass a second time before tossing back the rest of his drink. He didn’t need it since he was already floating higher than a 747 after a couple lines of coke. It was all right for one night. After all, it was a special occasion.
“Yeah,” Dominic chimed. “Hennessey was a real straight-up nigga.”
Feeling nostalgic, Ramsey nodded. Had it not been for Hennessey’s clear vision, Ramsey would have never gotten into the music scene. He was too much of a street nigga. He and Kong were cut from the same cloth on that account. Hustling and slinging dope were a part of their DNA. It was a good thing, too. No dream gets off the ground without cold, hard cash.
If there were a heaven for a G, Ramsey hoped Hennessey was seeing this shit right now.
Alexis took to the main stage, forcing the deejay to lower the music. “If I can have everyone’s attention for a minute. Everyone?”
A few disappointed moans and groans rumbled through the otherwise hushed crowd, but Alexis, with her coke-bottle curves, managed to gain most of the crowd’s attention.
“Thank you.” She beamed while the spotlight centered on her. “First, I want to thank everyone for coming tonight. You guys look wonderful—but tonight is a special night, as you all are aware. Tonight, we’re celebrating an extraordinary man—an icon in the music industry, a trailblazer: Ramsey Holt.” She gestured up toward the club’s top floor, where Ramsey stood.
Everyone cheered and applauded him.
Like a king, Ramsey waved at the people. His gaze scanned the crowd, but he had to do a double take when he saw a familiar face. However, when he searched among the people again, the face was gone.
Alexis blew him a kiss and waved, too. Her enormous engagement ring sparkled under the spotlight. “Baby, we are all here to celebrate your first thirty-one years of life. We love you and cherish you. We can’t wait to see what you do in the next thirty-one years. Cheers! I love you, baby!”
Another round of applause rose to the top floor while three waitresses in skimpy, two-piece uniforms walked toward Ramsey, holding a three-tier birthday cake with sparkling birthday candles.
He chuckled because the damn thing looked like the cake was getting ready to explode in the women’s face. Living in the moment, he went ahead and tried to blow the candles out. The waitresses helped, and a final cheer resounded before the deejay turned the music back up.
“Y’all niggas dig in,” Ramsey told his boys after directing the girls to set the cake at his reserved table.
His men swarmed the cake like locusts, giving him another big laugh.
When Alexis made it to the VIP area, she slinked into his arms and shared a kiss. “Are you happy, baby?”
“I am now.” He winked and grabbed her ass.
When Alexis giggled like a prepubescent girl, Ramsey’s left eye ticked. Despite the grating sound, he pressed on a smile and pulled her closer. Alexis had a few annoying quirks, but it was no reason to toss her fine ass away. Since Charlie Warren had been locked up, Alexis was the best dime in the city—and a king always had to have a queen.
“Happy birthday, baby,” Alexis whispered.
“Thanks, babe.” He squeezed her ass again.
Alexis’s best girl, Sheila, stood inches away from them, rolling her eyes. “When are you two going to settle on a date?”
Judging by the way Alexis pressed her lips, Ramsey realized his new fiancée had instigated the question.
“Soon enough,” he answered with a wink and this time a slap on Alexis’s ass.
“Uh-huh.” Sheila rolled her eyes again.
Ramsey ignored their games and glanced back at the crowd. He saw the face again and whispered, “Charlie.”
CHAPTER 8
From the moment Charlie entered the Emperor’s Club with her sisters, she was transported back in time. The place had the same vibe and was still filled with beautiful and sexy people having a great time. Of course, the music was banging and had her itching to get on the dance floor, but instead, she leaned against the bar and watched the crowd. Pride swelled in her chest as tears brimmed her eyes. Hennessey would be pleased. Ramsey had kept his promise and kept his and Hennessey’s dream alive. Charlie smiled. At least something of Hennessey’s would live on.
“It’s weird, huh?” Michael shouted to Charlie above the music. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“Yep,” Charlie agreed, still soaking it all in.
Billie shouted, “What do you say we get a couple of drinks before we face the birthday boy?”
“I’m down.” Charlie spun toward the bartender. “I’ll have a Sidecar.” She ordered.
“Make that two,” Michael amended.
Billie and Johnnie ordered their usual White Russians.
Once the drinks arrived, Charlie lifted her glass. “What should we drink to?”
“To Charlie,” her sisters declared, clinking her glass.
Michael added, “It’s so great to have you back home again.”
Charlie’s eyes misted. “It’s great to be home. You have no idea how much I missed you girls—even your bad cooking, Billie.”
“All right. Watch it, heifer. Don’t have me catching a case out here.”
Michael rolled her eyes, laughing. “Girl, you know your ass can’t cook.”
“Amen,” Teddy put in before the sisters laughed.
A man thundered from behind them, “Whatever you do, please don’t tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”
At the familiar voice, Charlie turned around. “Ramsey.”
“My God. It is you.”
“The one and only.”
“For a brief second, I thought maybe you were Johnnie trying to fool me.”
“Nope. It’s me. We couldn’t pull Johnnie away from the kids tonight.”
“I’ll be damned,” Ramsey marveled. He stared at her for another minute before he wrapped his arms around her. “Come here, you. When did you get out?”
Charlie stiffened and remained as straight as an ironing board until he let her go. “Today. It’s my first night of freedom.”
“I can’t believe you’re here. Tonight, of all nights.” Ramsey’s white-picket-fence smile stretched from ear to ear. “It’s a sign or something.”
“Of what? That you’re getting old?”
“Age is a state of mind.”
“Sure, it is.” She rolled her eyes. “Happy birthday, anyway.”
“Ah, you know how it is. After your twenty-first, the damn things don’t mean shit. It’s an excuse to throw a big-ass party.”
Charlie offered a half smile. “You have a point there.”
“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie.” He shook his head. “It’s so good to see you again. Why don’t you come on up to VIP and say hi to the old gang? I know they’d love to see you—all of you.” He acknowledged her sisters.
Charlie glanced toward the second level and hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“What’s with you? You’re shy all of a sudden?” Ramsey held out his arm. “Come on. You know you want to.”
She did want to—out of morbid curiosity. Plenty of her old friends had written to her while she was behind bars—letters she had never bothered to read or reply to. It was too hard. If life was going to go on without her, she preferred not to read about it.
“All right. We’ll come up.” She signaled for her sisters to follow them.
“Trudy and I were just talking about Hennessey,” Ramsey said as he navigated through the crowd and led her up the glass and steel staircase.
“Oh?”
“We were patting ourselves on the back, bragging about how proud Henny would be about this place. It was his vision, after all—this and the RawDawgs music label. We’ve turned his vision into a real dream factory.”
Charlie’s eyes misted. Ramsey was right. Henny would have been proud.
“Look who I found downstairs,” Ramsey boasted, reentering the VIP.
When heads turned, eyes widened, and audible gasps echoed around them. Then, everyone lurched toward Charlie in a giant wave.
Charlie stepped back but was still pulled in several directions almost at the same time.
“I can’t believe it.”
“When did you get out?”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Why have you never responded to my letters?”
Charlie couldn’t keep up with the questions hurled at her, so her nerves made her laugh instead. “One at a time, please.”
“Okay. Me first.” Alexis settled her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you ever respond to my letters, and why didn’t you call me when you got out?”
“Got out?” Sheila echoed. “I thought you died behind bars, bitch.”
Charlie laughed again. “I’m not dead. Thank God.”
“Then answer my question, bitch,” Alexis demanded with a smile. “Why did you cut us off? We wanted to support you.”
Uncomfortable with the captive audience, Charlie had to give them something. “It was too hard,” she admitted. “I’d lost too much, and it hurt too much.”
“Aww.” Alexis cocked her head. “Come here, you.” She wrapped her thin arms around Charlie and squeezed.
Again, Charlie tensed. Being in Alexis’s arms was like being ensnared in a black widow’s web; it was futile to do anything other than to submit to her fate.
Charlie forced a smile as family and friends she’d known more than half her life beamed back at her and welcomed her home. As each one pulled her into an embrace, she read the same question on their faces: What was she going to do now? More than half of them appeared satisfied that she had been brought low within their clique, perhaps even thought she’d gotten what she deserved.
Ramsey dragged her into another unwanted hug. “Time off for good behavior.” He laughed. “I didn’t think you knew how to behave for any extended amount of time.”
“Is that a joke, or are you being an asshole?”
“Can it be both?” He grinned.
Alexis approached and laid a hand on Ramsey’s chest. “Stop teasing her, sweetheart. It isn’t nice.”
At the sparkling rock on Alexis’s hand, Charlie’s smile vanished. “That looks like . . .”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Alexis chuckled. “Ramsey remembered how much I liked the ring Hennessey gave you and allowed me to have a similar one made.”
“It’s not similar. It’s an exact copy,” Charlie hissed.
“Is it?” Alexis took another long look at the ring on her finger and pretended to be ignorant. “No, I’m sure yours didn’t have the small baguettes on the side. Let me see yours.”
“You know damn well I lost it.”
“Did you?” She clutched at her imaginary pearls. “No, I didn’t know. What a shame.”
Charlie took a step back. It was either that or catch a case on her first day out of jail. She counted to ten before she asked, “So, you two are engaged now?”
“Yep.” Alexis laughed. “It’s funny. It’s like we’ve switched lives. I’m engaged to a successful mogul with a baby on the way, and you’re . . . well, I’m sure the next chapter in your life will no doubt be as interesting as all the others.”
