No One in the World (29 page)

“What!” Blac said. “You're lying. You were right there. He said ten. How the fuck am I supposed to come up with that money four whole days earlier than—”

“Hold on, son,” Rondo said, stepping in front of Bones. He lifted the front of his jersey to reveal the revolver he had stuffed in the waist of his jeans. “You need to access yo' uncrazy side before somebody wind up dead out here.”

“I'd do what the man says,” Bones said. He slapped a hand on Blac's shoulder. “You're gonna get that money just like you planned on gettin' it before, just have it by tomorrow. And then, Rondo and myself gonna be back tomorrow night, just like we here now, to pick that shit up. Got it?”

“You gotta call Cutty and tell him—”

“Ain't no callin' Cutty,” Bones said. “Either it's gonna be you givin' me and Rondo the money, or you not givin' it to us, and some nasty shit happening to you that's gonna most likely leave you dead, or wishing you was. You got it?”

“I ain't gonna have that money,” Blac said, knowing he hadn't invested enough time with Cobi to expect him to give up that amount of cash.

Bones squeezed Blac's shoulder, gave him a phony smile, then said, “Well, then, I'd advise you start saying good-bye to family and shit.”

Blac watched as the two men walked back to the truck, speaking low to each other and chuckling.

Blac let himself in the house, walked back to the bedroom, stepped in, and took off his clothes. He crawled into bed, rolled on his side away from Theresa, folded his hands under his head, and tried to think of a way to get that money tomorrow. His life depended on it.

A moment later, he felt Theresa's arms around him.

His body tightened.

“You all right, baby?” Theresa asked. Her voice was soft and concerned.

“Just stuff on my mind,” Blac said.

I
sat in my father's study for two and half hours believing I had sent my brother back to prison.

I paced, stared at the clock, prayed, yelled, and almost cried.

I had called Eric several times telling him to abort the plan, that we would just pay the man the money and avoid having something go wrong—someone getting hurt, the police getting involved, and my brother finding himself back behind bars.

I would never forgive myself, I kept thinking. With each minute that passed, I told myself that would be what happened. It was the reason Eric didn't pick up his phone. He had gotten arrested and soon would be calling from the police station.

I should have listened to my sister, I thought, standing from behind my father's desk, walking over to the wall where an antique clock hung. I looked up at it. Eric was already half an hour late.

I closed my eyes and prayed.

“Lord, I'm sorry for putting my brother in this position. It was wrong of me to think that my freedom and my life are more valuable than his, and to put him at risk to suffer again, as he's done for so much of his life. Jesus, if you find it in your will to bring my brother back to me just once more, I swear, I will never so easily send him away, and I will do everything in my power to keep him out of the jails that have so long imprisoned him. In your name, I pray, amen.”

“That was touching, bro,” I heard someone say from behind me.

I opened my eyes and spun around to see Eric standing just inside my father's study, a smile on his face.

I ran over to him and hugged him tight. “You made it back!”

“Course I did,” Eric said, clapping me on the back a few times. He held out my briefcase to me. “It's all there. And . . .” he said, pulling out an envelope from his suit jacket pocket, “the pictures.”

I gave them a self-conscious look.

“I didn't look through them,” Eric said. “Just checked real quick to make sure it was what he said.”

“I appreciate this, Eric, but even with the pictures, how do we know—”

“That he ain't keep others?” Eric finished for me. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out the man's driver's license and handed it to me. “I scared him pretty bad. Told him if he ever thought of doin' what he said, I was gonna pay him a visit.”

“And he believed you?”

Eric balled up his face into an angry scowl. “This is the face of a hardened criminal. Wouldn't you believe me if I threatened you?”

“It looks more like the face of a gay state's attorney, so I don't know how scared I'd really be.” I laughed.

“Well, you don't have nothing to worry about no more, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, staring at my brother. “You heard my prayer, right?”

“Yeah, kind of sappy.”

“I meant every word of it.”

“I appreciate that, for real.”

“It's just how I feel.”

Eric smiled bashfully. His cell phone rang. He dug in his pocket, pulled it out, and looked at the screen. “It's Jess,” he said, surprise on his face, looking uncertain as to whether he would take the call.

“Well, answer it.”

“Hello,” Eric said. And after a moment, “Yeah. Yeah. I can do that.”

I stood in front of him, hoping she was giving my brother some kind of good news.

“Okay, bye,” Eric said. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and stared blank-faced at me.

“Well, don't keep me in suspense. What did she say?”

“She wants to meet tomorrow.”

T
he next day, Eric pulled the Audi into the parking spot facing the public park. He shut off the car and looked out on the grassy area. There were kids running around, playing on the swing sets, chasing their dogs as their parents sat on nearby benches watching them.

He stepped out the car, just as Jess pulled up beside him in a black Infiniti sedan with tinted windows.

The driver's side door opened, and Jess stepped out, wearing a denim jacket, jeans, and heels. “Morning, Eric,” Jess said, walking around the car, toward the back door.

“What's going on, Jess? Why'd you ask to meet me here?”

Jess ignored the question, continued around the car, and opened the back door.

From the other side of the car, Eric said, “You ain't going to answer my question? You call the police on me. Now this. Why you ask me to come out here?”

Jess looked up at Eric from over the roof of the car. “Have a little patience and you'll find out,” Jess said, lowering her head into the car.

From his side, Eric couldn't see into the dark windows, so he slowly walked around the car to see what Jess was up to.

He got a glimpse inside the backseat. First he saw a pair of little legs,
a portion of a child's car seat, then as Jess hoisted her from it, Eric looked into his daughter's face for the first time in two years.

The child was bright-eyed and more beautiful than Eric remembered. She had big, black pupils, a button nose, and a dimple in her cheek, just like her mother's. Her hair was shiny and brushed back into one long, thick, braided ponytail.

She wore a pink outfit that matched the ribbons around her braid.

Jess set Maya down in front of her father.

Eric stared down at the little girl, wanting to cry at how beautiful she was.

“Do you know who that is?” Jess asked Maya.

Maya looked up at Eric with her big eyes and scooted a little closer to her mother, grabbing her leg. She shook her head, shyly stuck a finger in her mouth, and in a soft voice said, “No.”

Eric laughed.

“That's your father. Can you give your daddy a hug?” Jess said, kneeling down to Maya. “Give your daddy a hug, then we'll let you go play on the swings.”

Maya looked over her shoulder at the swings and all the kids playing on them, then turned to Eric, extending her arms.

Eric laughed again, quickly kneeled down, and took his little girl in an embrace. He squeezed her as tight as he dared, and as much as he fought it, he could not stop a tear from falling from his eye.

Ten minutes later, Jess had told Eric everything. They sat on a bench just outside the playground, and watched Maya play with the other children.

“So you're admitting it,” Eric said, a hurtful expression on his face. “You and everyone else who testified against me lied. Why the fuck you telling me now, Jess?” Eric said, his voice low.

Jess lowered her head in shame, then looked up. “The guilt. It was wrong, I know that. You're her father. I know you love her, and you never mistreated her, but—”

“But what?” Eric stood from the bench.

“But I couldn't have her grow up the way I did. You know my—”

“I know, your old man was in prison, and all he did was disappoint you. But I ain't your old man.”

“I wasn't taking any chances. You were gone. I was raising her alone.
I wasn't going to take a chance on that being my life, her life,” Jess said, standing in front of him. “It killed me to do it. To tell my family to lie, to sit in that room and lie myself.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“There's nothing that can be done.”

Eric grabbed Jess tight by the shoulders. “What do you mean, nothing? You can go back—”

“I can't. It's done. And even if I could, I wouldn't. The steps I took were wrong, but I think the decision was right.”

Eric released Jess, turned his back on her in disgust. “Then why you bring me here?”

“I wanted you to see Maya. And if you want, I want you to continue to see her.”

Eric spun around. “But you had my rights taken.”

“That doesn't mean you aren't still her father,” Jess said. “We can start slow, a couple of times a month. You can come by and visit her if you like.”

Eric glared at Jess, hoping he was hiding at least some of the hate he was feeling for her that moment. “I don't know. I'll have to think about it.”

“I can understand how you feel, but—”

“No, you can't! You lied and took my daughter away from me. That didn't happen to you, so don't say you know how the fuck I feel.”

“You're right,” Jess apologized. “But I don't want you not to see Maya, because you're mad at me. She didn't do anything wrong. And I know you won't have rights, and legally, Quentin will be her father, but you can still be in her life. What do you say, Eric?”

Eric looked across the park and watched his little girl playing on the slide. He had missed over half her life already. He didn't want to miss any more. “Fine. I'll see her when you let me.”

“Good,” Jess said, seeming genuinely happy. “But there is one condition.”

“What is that?”

“If you ever get in trouble with the law again, it will be the last time you see Maya.”

L
ate that afternoon, Blac stood outside the building Cutty used to run his drug operations, waiting for the man to finally tell him exactly when he needed to deliver his money to him.

Blac had been ringing Cutty's cell phone since the moment he had gotten up this morning. The man didn't answer, so as a last resort, Blac borrowed Theresa's car and drove down to his spot.

After he knocked on the front door, Blac was met with resistance from two of Cutty's men that Blac hadn't seen before. Blac had to convince them he wasn't leaving till he spoke to Cutty. The men told him to wait and they would see what they could do.

Ten minutes later, Cutty sauntered out, wearing sunglasses, sagging jeans, and holding an unlit blunt between two of his fingers.

“Deadline for my money ain't till eight o'clock tonight, but obviously you got it early. That's the reason you standin' there, right?”

“Look, Cutty,” Blac said. “I don't know what's going on, but I'm not supposed to have your money for another four days. You said the clock started—”

“You tryin' to tell me what the fuck I said?” Cutty pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit the tip of the marijuana cigar he was holding. He took a puff, held the smoke in a moment, exhaled, then in a lowered
voice said, “The other day you came by here asking for some shit to sell because you knew you weren't gonna have my money, didn't you?”

“No, Cutty, I swear—”

“Don't lie to me, Blac,” Cutty said, pointing at him with the blunt. “You didn't have my money and you was thinking you could sell enough of my shit in time to pay me what you owe. Problem is, my man Drake picked up on that. He made that comment about you playing me, which is why he got his ass whupped. People hear I'm getting played, same people start to think I'm getting soft, and I can't have that shit. Folks start thinking they can put a bullet in my head, take my position, just like I did to that pussy Booky Bear. So to send a message, I had to shorten your deadline. I know it's fucked up, but it don't matter. New deadline is tonight at eight.”

“Cutty! You can't do—”

Cutty yanked off his sunglasses, turned his evil eye on Blac, the other drifting off slightly skyward. “You don't tell me what the fuck I can't do. Like I said, deadline tonight. Have my money and we square,” Cutty said, drawing smoke from the blunt and holding it in. “Don't,” he said in a strangled voice. “I'm sorry, but yo' ass will be made an example of.”

T
he day had been going perfectly until I had gotten the phone call that dragged me out to this bar and had me sitting, waiting for Blac.

Earlier today, I had a late lunch with Sissy at Wishbone, one of my favorite West Loop restaurants, where we discussed more of the wedding plans.

It would be in just three days, and because of that, my sister decided to scale it all the way down to a private function with just our closest friends. “We can have a public affair once we get your shares and make sure Winslow Products is out of the woods.”

“How is company business? Are we still the owners, or have we been taken over?” I said, joking, but not really.