Deadly Saintes- The Complete Series, page 22
part #1 of Deadly Saintes Series
“Lawrence, what happened?”
Spotting the ring on the floor, he stuffed it into his pocket before forcing the door open. His phone was undamaged as it rested in a small cubby hole.
“Lawrence.”
“I’m here.”
“What happened? It sounded like you were in a wreck,” Constance said.
“I was. But I’m alright. Car’s totaled though.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“No. Joi’s play is tonight.” He checked his watched for the time, seeing that the face was cracked. “It starts in half an hour.”
Constance cursed. “Go to the hospital. Call me when you leave.”
He ended the call. The hospital was out of the question. He touched his forehead again. Though the spot burned, it wasn’t serious enough to need medical attention. He stretched his legs, rotating and bending his arms, doing so without pain. He retrieved his insurance information from the glove box and dialed the number. He rolled his eyes as he went through the prompt. While in the middle of reciting his policy number, a car came to a stop a few yards from the accident site. Old school hip hop spilled from its speaker after the driver side door opened.
Titus stepped out.
Lawrence held the phone to his chest, the automation voice still requesting his information.
“Are you alright?”
Lawrence looked up and down the road. “I’m fine. Got distracted.”
Titus, closer, examined his face. “That’s a nasty cut. Looks like you might need stitches. I can give you a ride to a doctor I know. Won’t charge you much since you’re family.”
“I’m good.”
Titus showed his hands. “I’m not gonna do what I did again.”
“You mean, kidnap me?”
“I won’t kidnap you again.” Titus, grabbing his face with one hand, used his handkerchief to dab at the wound with the other. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches.” He stepped back. “AAA is gonna take forever. My friend doesn’t live far. If you want, you can take my car and I’ll have him drive me home.”
Lawrence sized him up, doing his best to read his face, but his intentions weren’t clear. The hairs on his arms stood as a breeze swept across his body.
“You can drive,” Titus said. “I’ll put in his address into the GPS and we don’t have to say a word to each other.”
Lawrence gave a second thought to the proposition. He traced the outline of the box. “Give me the keys.”
“That’s a smart man.”
Constance scrawled on a piece of scratch paper before typing on her laptop. She promised herself that she would only work for ten more minutes. 20 had passed. Not having enough time to change, she put on a fresh layer of deodorant and changed her shoes. Washing her face, she applied a layer of lipstick and eyeliner. Grabbing her purse and keys, she rushed out of the door.
She made it to the school five minutes after the play started. Luckily, Jovan has chosen a couple seats at the back of the auditorium so she didn’t cause that much disruption.
“Late again.”
“Don’t start Jovan,” she said, “I’m here.”
“But you were late.”
“Her part hasn’t even come up yet.”
“I’m just saying. Are you gonna be late to her wedding too? Her funeral.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you,” she hissed. “Why would you say something like that?”
A couple of people in front of her turned around and shushed them, whispering in each other’s ears afterward.
“Drop it. You’re drawing attention to us,” she said. “I was five minutes late. I’m here.” Her purse vibrated on her leg. Her phone screen stood out in the darkened room. Ignoring the disdain on her husband’s face, she scurried out, oblivious to Joi just having come on stage. “What is it Malcolm?”
“I don’t think Hancock’s gonna vote for us. I need you to find out who his backers are. The sooner you can get them the better.”
“I’m at Joi’s play right now.” Her head whipped to the doors. Her mouth went wide as two men shoved Jovan out.
“Uppity bastards,” she whispered.
“What happened?”
“They said something about feeling sorry for Joi having parents like us.”
She used his collar to lead him toward the front of the building. “I’ll call you back.” When they were near the doors, she punched him in the chest. “I can’t take you fucking nowhere. How the fuck do you get kicked out of our daughter’s play?” She dug the keys out of her purse. “Go sit in the car.”
“You’re taking their side?”
“I’m taking Joi’s side.” She pressed them into his chest, holding them there until he grabbed them. Her curses lingered behind her as she strolled back to the auditorium.
3
“That muthafucka needs to be put down.” RJ pulled from his blunt after sipping from his glass. His eyes were bloodshot, his words and movement beginning to get fuzzy. Falling into the nearby chair, he ignored the Cognac droplet that stained his shirt. Resting the glass on the table, he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. “And you know I’m right.”
“We can’t just take him out,” Constance said. “That’ll only bring more trouble.”
“What you wanna do then sis? Sit down and talk to him?”
“Maybe if we just hear him out…”
“The time for talking is done. I thought you would be ready to go to war after he kidnapped your boyfriend.” He looked at all the faces looking back at him. “Oh, we’re still not supposed to talk about you and Lawrence being a thing? Ya’ll are grown.”
“She’s still married,” Malcolm said.
“So? We all know Jovan is a bum. At least we know Lawrence can take care of her.”
Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Thanks RJ,”
RJ lifted his glass. “No problem brotha. I’ll stand up for you if she won’t.” He stood, falling back into the chair. “We need to take Titus out and we need to do it soon.”
Constance snatched the glass. “You know alcohol and your temper don’t mix.” Pouring herself a drink, she swallowed it down. Afterward, she examined Lawrence’s cut. “Titus only did what he did to get our attention.”
“Well he succeeded in doing that, didn’t he?” Reginald clapped a hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with you.”
“It has everything to do with me. I won’t give him what he wants so he’s targeting you all. How’s Hancock?”
“He’s scared,” Malcolm said. “I think he’s into some shady shit. I’m still trying to figure out who his backers are.”
Constance smacked her forehead. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “I’m sorry. I got caught up with home stuff. Jovan got kicked out of Joi’s play.”
“How’d he do that?” Lawrence said.
“Cuz he’s a fucking bum.” RJ pushed himself to his feet. His legs crossed over themselves as he staggered to the bar. He pulled the cork out of one of the bottles. Holding the bottle above his head, it was tipped at an angle so that the liquid crawled to his lips. It was lingering on the edge when Reginald called his name.
“That’s enough.”
“Come on, Pop.”
“I said that’s enough.”
While the others were strategizing, Malcolm slipped out of the room to take a call. Almost as if he could feel Simone’s eyes, he straightened his tie and jacket.He calmed himself with a breath before calling her back.
“You must not want me to see who you’re with.”
“I’m with my family.”
“If you’re with your family then why did you ignore my video call?” Simone said.
“We’re talking. I missed the call. I called you right back. What is your problem?”
She made a dissatisfied noise. “Whatever. There’s a huge party coming up.”
“And you need some more money.”
“No. But I need you to be here. I’m one of the hosts and I can’t arrive by myself, so you need to get home tonight.”
“When’s the party?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Glass shattered. The door cracked open, the various voices spilling out. Through the opening, he was able to see RJ rolling around on the ground. A cracked bottle laid next to him, shards of glass digging into his skin. “I gotta go.”
“So you’ll be home tonight right? I need you to help me pick out my outfit.”
“I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.” He disconnected the call before she had a chance to protest. Per their usual routine, her face lit his screen a second later. He let the phone ring. After she called three more times, he blocked her. The book length text messages that came through prompted to turn on airplane mode. He stepped back into the room. No one seemed to be alarmed. “What happened?”
“He fell.”
Helping RJ up, he avoided the sloppy kisses his brother tried to plant on his cheek. Throwing him into the chair, he began taking off RJ’s shoes and socks. “So what’s the plan?”
“We decided to take the diplomatic approach,” Constance said.
“I’m going to sit down with him.” Reginald slipped out of his jacket and threw it over RJ, who was mumbling his disagreement. “My hope is to find out what he’s planning.”
“So I don’t need to be here.”
“The wifey on your ass again,” Constance said with a laugh. “I tried to warn you about her.”
“One, she not my wife.”
“Dodging a bullet with that one.”
“Two, her name is Simone. And three, you’re literally cheating on your husband with someone you’ve had a crush on since you were kids. So don’t judge me.”
Lawrence looked at her. “You had a crush on me since we were kids?”
“Don’t get mad at me because she has you by the balls,” Constance said.
“I’m not mad. I’m just saying that you didn’t make great choices in who you were dating either. You’re married. You’ll have to pay to get out of your relationship.”
RJ stirred. He sat up, opened his eyes and chuckled. “You want some ointment for that burn, sis?” Just like that, he was asleep once more.
Hancock’s computer was turned away from his door. The blinds were pulled tight. His pants were around his ankles, his underwear around his thighs. He opened an incognito tab, then typed in the first three letters of his favorite website. Another mouse click ensured his ecstasy. Reclining back into his chair, he spread his legs as wide as his red boxer briefs would allow. His bobbing forearm caused the chair to rock. 30 seconds later, sweat was dripping down his forehead. He pulled his collar away from his neck, the move doing nothing to help him breathe easier. He was close when a light shined through the window. The prospect of another person being so close had no effect on his pace. In fact, it increased. The coffee vapors that wafted into his nose awakened his senses. His grip tightened, causing him to buck. His knees hit the underside of his desk.
“Mr. Hancock, are you in there?”
“Ye-yeah. Who’s that?”
“Deidra. I couldn’t sleep. Thought it would be better to get some work done than to stare at the ceiling.
The doorknob began to turn. “Don’t come in. I’m uh, I took my clothes off to take a nap.” It returned to its starting position. Air rushed through his nose. His mouth matched the woman’s on the screen.
A familiar voice responded when Deidra asked a question.
“I’m not proud of it, but I’ve seen him naked before.” Still talking, Malcolm’s head was turned when he opened the door. “I’ll let him know. Oh my God.” He covered his eyes.
Scrambling to cover himself, Hancock knocked over the majority of the items on his desk, stomping the plugs out of the computer and wall. Standing, he lost balance after taking a step, falling to his knees. “Close the door. Close the door.”
“Is everything okay?”
Malcolm stepped in front of Deidra just in time. “He’s sick.”
“Do you need help? Should I call someone?”
“No. He just, had an accident. I can handle it.” Malcolm pushed the guilt that came with slamming the door in her face to the back of his mind. Turning back around, he closed his eyes and felt his way around the room. He tossed the first soft thing he touched in the direction of he thought was most correct. He began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just when I thought I had you pinned down.”
“The key to a relationship is spontaneity.” Ass to the ground, Hancock pulled his underwear up. Standing, he stepped out his pants before retaking his seat in the chair. Exiting the incognito browser, he opened his stock portfolio. “Do I need to ask why you’re here this early?”
“You weren’t answering my calls,” Malcolm said, “I was worried.”
Hancock rolled his eyes. “You were worried. About what? Me beating my meat to death?”
“If that were possible, I wouldn’t put it past you to be the first to figure out how to do it. Your persistence is your best asset.”
Hancock’s eyes remained on the screen as he talked. He updated Malcolm on the details of the action that had taken place since the last time they saw one another – four days. His personal life had grown increasingly worse, his wife threatening to take the kids if he didn’t do a better job of hiding his love for his girlfriend. Oddly, rather, strategically, he didn’t mention anything about his leaning on the marijuana bill issue.
“Personal life is shit, what’s business like?” Malcolm asked.
“Business is business. Same old shit. Shaking hands and smiling with my enemies, stabbing my allies in the back. The life of a politician.”
“You’re not a politician.”
“Anyone who’s ever been elected is a politician.” He turned the screen toward Malcolm. “This is why I can’t publicly back the bill.”
The chart showed the progressions of three well known pharmaceutical companies. They were seeing steady growth that netted him $40,000 each a month in profit.
“I thought your investments were in a blind trust.”
Hancock smiled. “For someone so smart, you’re naive.”
“Stop investing.”
“It’s not that easy. I’m tied to these guys. They didn’t just give me campaign money. They also gave me, made me take, some of their stock.”
Malcolm eyed the screen with more intensity. He committed the names to his memory, in addition to the numbers. “Can you get me a meeting with them?” Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text, getting a reply a few seconds later. “No offense, but I think I might be a bit more persuasive.”
“Unless you’re coming to them with more money.” Hancock looked up. “You’re going to them with more money?” Turning the screen back around, he peeked over it as he typed. “Can you tell me?”
“I’d rather not,” Malcolm said with a grin.” He stood. “Thank you for that info.”
“How long until you can tell me?”
“You’ll find out when I tell you.”
“Ooh, he’s a sly dog.” Hancock slammed the enter key down and closed the lid. On his feet, he jumped up and down like the girls whose pants were too small to fit around their disproportionate asses. Afterward he buttoned them and tucked the ends of his shirt in. Running a hand through his hair, he offered it to Malcolm. “I use product. I can’t get lice.”
Malcolm looked at Hancock’s hand. “I know where that hand’s been. If you weren’t a politician we’d be homies.”
“Then let’s quit both of our jobs and run away together. You don’t think Simone would mind, do you?”
“Not if you paid her enough.” Malcolm opened the door to find Deidra standing on the other side. She was holding a stack of files, which was beginning to lean. He caught them, his shoe connecting with her shin as he swiped at the few papers that floated to the ground. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool.” Her pants ripped as she bent over. Reaching behind her, she dropped the rest of the files. “Shit.”
“I’ll get those,” Hancock said. “Malcolm, take her home so she can change. If fact, I don’t wanna see either of you back here until tomorrow.”
“He doesn’t have to do that,” Deidra protested.
“You can’t take the bus home. Unless you want everyone else to see your underwear” –
“Thanks Cody,” she said. Backing out of the door, she continued doing so until she reached her desk, where she swiftly wrapped her sweat shirt around her waist.
The ride to Deidra’s house was quiet. “You want to listen to some music?” Malcolm asked
“I’m okay.”
“Are you hot? Cold?”
She chuckled. “I’m fine. And I don’t live that far.”
He found himself nervous, not knowing what to do with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel. Resting it on his thigh didn’t rid him of the restlessness. Setting his elbow on the window sill, he caressed the back of his head. The seam that connected his sleeve to his jacket threatened to burst. He caught her snickering out the corner of his eye.
“What’d you do before you starting working with Cody?” she asked.
“I was a hedge fund manager.”
“Oh, a secret politician.” She examined his face. “You look like one.”
“Like what?”
“A hedge fund manager.”
He ran his hand over his mouth. “What does hedge fund manager look like?” He fought the urge to flip down the visor.
“You know, nice suits that probably cost more than my rent, new car, fresh haircut, no jewelry.”
“No jewelry?”
“Yeah. Unlike most people who have money, the people who do have money or are in control of large amounts of it usually don’t want people knowing they have it.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She had a natural beauty, only wearing a layer of lip gloss. She was proud of the hair that grew out of her scalp, unlike Simone, who buried hers under a wig, or extensions if she wanted to ‘keep it light’. There wasn’t an ounce of nervousness in her energy. In fact, she appeared very comfortable. Her arms, legs, and shoulders were relaxed, a playful grin on her face as she looked back at him.
