In the Nick of Time (59 page)

“Yeah, I know why we’re here, man.”

“Look, I need you to not go after Oliver, okay?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you need, Officer Vitale.” the man said in such a smooth unruffled tone, it seemed he had the shit pre-rehearsed.

“I expected that response, Trey. Look, here is the problem.” He sat back in his seat, intersected his ankles just so. It felt good to sit across from someone again, work his angles and his skills. He’d been away from work for so long, the rare opportunity provided an absolute relief. He relished the shit, had a knack for it. Some called it magic. Others called him a thief of reality, manipulating potential prey until he had them just where he wanted. He called it love.

“Look, you have a situation in which you are here by court mandate. You didn’t ask to come here; you were forced. That means they are watching you extra closely. The second issue is, your son is still alive, Trey. He has been harmed; we don’t know the long lasting ramifications, but the boy is physically healthy and he needs you now more than ever. You and his mother are all that he has. What’s he gonna do if his dad gets life in prison for killing the man that damaged him, huh? Do you think he’d prefer you kill the guy, or be in his life? Tell me… I’m listening.”

The man leaned back in his seat, mirroring Nick’s stance. He grinned ever so slightly as he tilted back in the chair, rocking, that ticking brain of his no doubt picking apart each word uttered. Trey was thirty years old. In his world, he was a rare find. Gangsters simply didn’t live that long, and if they did, it would be behind prison bars. He was either a lucky son of a bitch or a smart son of a gun to still be alive and doing the things he was involved in. It could have been a combination of both. Nick suspected the latter.

“Nick, you know how I roll, okay?” The big man paused, scratched the side of his nose, then continued. “I don’t know you for myself, but I found out what I needed to.” He eyed him up and down, studying him. “He fucked wit’ my seed. That’s my only child… My son looks up to me, expects me to protect him. Ain’t no honor in letting that faggot ass mothafucka get away with messing with my child. What?” He threw up his hands, a big crooked smile on his face. “This is what it is, man. It’s where I’m at. A little street justice… that black eye was to let every mothafucka in here know that he is a marked man. I’m gonna get him and when I do, he’ll regret the day he was bitch ass mother gave birth to him.”

Nick smiled in turn, rocked back in his seat, and cast a lazy glance towards the window before returning his full attention to the man. “I’m not a father. I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling right now.”

“Right, so stay the fuck out of this.”

“I wish I could, Trey…boy, I really wish I could. You see…” He scratched the side of his head and leaned forward. “I’m not in here for Oliver—Don, I mean. I’m in here for you. I don’t give a shit about that man. He was disrespectful to me, and I don’t even like the son of a bitch. I have no consideration for him, and definitely no loyalty.”

“Maaaan,” he said, waving him off. “You can kill all of this bullshit comin’ out of your mouth. You have all the loyalty in the world towards that mothafucka ’cause first and foremost, you are trying to be a damn hero, stop some shit before it goes down…it will make you look good, probably help you out in the long run. I ain’t stupid, man. And secondly, his family probably paid you some shit. The only reason I agreed to talk to you is because you came at me wit’ respect…and I ain’t have shit else to do.” He crossed his big, muscular arms over his chest and grimaced.

“No one paid me not one damn dime, Trey. I haven’t been bribed, never even spoke to that man’s family. Secondly, my job is not on the line, nor am I trying to gain brownie points. My future career goals are contingent upon how I do in here, not what shit I jump into. I’m no Captain Save a Pedophile! He disgusts me. This is so much bigger than that!”

Trey looked him up and down, his dark, icy glare starting from his neck and scanning upward, as if he could read him front and back.

“What do you want, then? Spit it out.”

“I am here because I have respect and consideration for Isaiah, your son. I can’t let his father go down like this… It wouldn’t be right.”

“What do you mean you can’t let me go down like this?” The man laughed lightly. “You ain’t runnin’ shit in here, man. I’m not afraid of no mothafuckin’ cops. Y’all the biggest gang up in this mothafucka, tryna sit here and school me… Now, I don’t know what your plan was when you called this little meeting, but it’s obvious you thought you were going to get somewhere with this. You can best believe that you’re not, so we can end it right now.” He pushed away from the table, preparing to stand and no doubt walk the hell out.

“Yeah…endings.” Nick nodded as he appeared to be in deep deliberation. “See, that’s what I’m concerned about, Trey. I’m worried that how you think this is going to end is not exactly how it will play out…”

“Oh, you uh fortune teller now, huh?” He paused, kept seated, and flashed a smirk. “This shit is my decision, and I’ve made up my mind. Quit tryna save that white boy’s life. I wish I was fuckin’ surprised. We live in a world where you cops, politicians, all you mothafuckas value white life over black life. My son don’t mean shit to you, man! I tried to help my son. He showed interest in music, playing the damn guitar and piano, and I did what I was supposed to do—get him some lessons, let his ass get some formal education on that shit, and I end up handing him to a damn wolf in sheep’s clothing! It’s time to even the score. That mothafucka is dead, point blank, period.”

“Trey, listen to me. If you kill him, you kill your son’s future… point blank, period. Oliver’s, I mean, Don’s family will be thrust in the limelight, and possibly rightfully so, but they will not go down without a fight, man. These people are not newjacks to covering shit up and making people pay. They’ll ensure you never see the light of day again and though some will champion you as a hero, others will only recall your affiliations with gang activity, look at your appearance, and label you a threat to society. Who do you think they’ll believe or care about? You said it yourself, cops such as myself, politicians and the like value white life over black life. I personally don’t, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend like what you’re saying isn’t happening in some circles, because it is…”

The man’s eyes brightened ever so slightly, proof that he was paying a bit more attention, becoming invested in the conversation.

“Due to that, people will see you on television, and only visualize a black criminal that killed a rich white man who was simply misunderstood—or worse yet, your son will be accused of making the whole damn thing up, trying to get some money, extortion. They won’t care about your or your child’s side of the story, and you’ll be made into a damn example.”

“Right! And you expect me to just let that shit go? Why shouldn’t I fight against that? I’m not bowing down to shit! It teaches them—he—can get away with it! The only way to change this shit is to BE the damn change! I can’t file charges; nobody fuckin’ believes me and the cops don’t do shit no ways! It’s my son’s word against his entire family. His father sent me some money, said it was an investment for Isaiah, a scholarship so to speak, to fucking cover up for this shit after I confronted their asses. The system is crooked. Y’all mothafuckas bought and paid for whether you agreed to it or not. Ain’t nobody tryna hear me, man!” He pounded the table with an iron fist.

“Exactly! You just admitted what I told you, and that was only my idea, but you proved it as fact. Look, I need you to trust me, Trey!”

The man bottled his feelings up inside and pushed back from the table as his lower lip trembled ever so slightly.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do this to another child again. He is going away, will be under supervision, and I will be checking up on this guy all the time, I promise you. I’m trying to save a family, here! Not his, yours!”

The man simply glared at him, his fists tight as he leaned slightly forward, and his jaw twitched with obvious anxiety.

“I know what I’m talking about, Trey. Your son will not only lose his father and possibly have guilt about telling you after the aftermath that you created, but he’ll suffer because no one is there to teach him how to be a man, to grow into himself and find out who he really is. I’m not a father, but that aspect, shit…” He ran his hand real slow over the back of his head before looking back into the man’s eyes, “I know about it all too well…”

With that, Nick knew he finally had his undivided attention, without a shadow of a doubt.

“You may have to. Maybe you and I have that in common… no man in the house. If I’m wrong in my assumption, let me know.”

Trey’s eyes dropped to the table as he slowly clasped his hands together, seemingly wrestling with painful memories right before Nick’s eyes.

“Do you remember what that was like, Trey? You probably tried to be just the opposite, right? You said you’d be different. Even though you live this lifestyle, you probably told yourself that you’d do right by your child.” He paused, let the shit sink in and marinate. Trey said nothing, only continued to listen, just as he expected him to by this point.

“I bet when you found out your girlfriend was pregnant all those years ago, you were elated but scared, too. You didn’t want him to experience not having a father in his life. To this day, you have so many questions… so many unanswered questions. I lived that life, Trey. You and I lived the same experience. If I were you, I would consider another angle. No one, and I mean nobody, would ever keep me away from child. Not even Don.”

“You aren’t in my shoes!” the man yelled, his expression fierce, full of fury. He leaned over the damn table like some hungry lion ready to feast. “Don’t sit there tryna tell me what the fuck to do! Judging me! This is about my son’s life, man! This ain’t a game! You want me to lie back and just take it, let him get away with some shit, twice?! Do you know who the fuck I am? I’m T.G.B., mothafucka! Temper Up, Gun Up, Body Down, goddamn it!”

“If you take that man’s life, you’ve handed him the keys to your own life and the only thing that will be up is YOU upstate, and what will be down is your child’s face as he’s crying because his prideful, ego driven father loved retaliation more than his damn son!!!” Nick got to his feet. “Everyone will know who did it, Trey! You’ve already marked him, goddamn it, and let me tell you something else,” he snarled, pointing his finger in his direction. “As much money as that man’s family will put out to have you put away, even your best damn friend, the guy you thought would take a bullet for you, would rat on you in a heartbeat to get his hands on that big, bubbling cash pot. Believe that!”

Trey turned away, sweat rolling down his face as he gripped nothing but air with two strong, balled up hands.

“You know what’s funny to me?” The guy cracked a sinister smile.

“What?”

“He ain’t call his Daddy and told on me, begged him to get him outta here.”

Nick smirked. “Oh, he did… He called several times when he first found out you were here, but his father doesn’t believe him, thinks he is making it up to get out of treatment…embarrass the family even further by messing up an agreement.”

They simply stared at one another for a moment or two.

“Look, man. I’m not judging your lifestyle right now. I’m not judging your history or your current condition,” Nick said. “But I am judging your future because it would be null and void. You’d hurt your son more, and that man would be dead
—
some would say, ‘good fucking riddance’, but what will it cost you?! What’s the damn price?! It’s too fucking high, Trey! And even if you want to spend it, Isaiah can’t afford it. He’d have to foot the bill. Don’t make him write a check you can’t cover!”

Trey’s chest heaved up and down and the man’s nostrils flared. Nick could almost smell his unparalleled rage in the room and he was certain, if he weren’t a cop, they’d been tussling on the floor by then. The heated emotions splayed within the guy, filling the room like a cup, and now the shit overflowed like lava. It became palpable to the touch, moving around like fog, choking them both like dense smoke from his fire within.

“You have to see the big fucking picture, my man!” He placed his hand across his chest. “I’m a police officer in fucking rehab!” He looked around the room in dramatic disbelief. “Can you believe that shit? I couldn’t either until I had detoxed for a few days, and the shit got real—real damn fast. Let me tell you something. I’m a drunk and a drug addict, but I’m also a damn good cop. I never promised any motherfucker out there something I couldn’t deliver on. I know you asked about me, Trey. I know you know my entire record. You are too high up in the food chain for people to not supply you what you need, when you need it. You have my entire resume, so you can bank on that, take a chance on what is true and fact, or ride the wave of risk and then drown!

“I can’t stop you, and you know this, and I’m not in here trying to pretend I’m still on my beat, either. I’m in here tryna fix my fucked up life, and that’s what I want you to do, too, so you can be there for that boy of yours!” He pointed towards the closed door. “No one in this world is going to love him the way you and his mother do, NO ONE! Don’t fuck up his life even further, Trey…don’t do it!”

“I come from a different world than you…”

“No, you don’t.”

“…You aren’t black. Trust me, Officer Vitale, it’s a different world…”

“Yeah…I’m not black, but I know what suffering feels like. I know what it feels like to be called racial slurs, to be judged on your ethnicity, to be typecast, forgotten, and given up on. I know what it feels like to wonder if you’re going to get evicted. I know what it feels like to watch a mother work herself literally to death to try and keep that from happening and for a man that brought you into the world to not lift a fucking finger to help her, even though he created part of her pride and joy, but her problem, too. You’re right…I’m not black…but I’m the next best thing.” He smirked, causing the man to crack a slight smile.