Chapter 2 #2
Baffled, I cleared my throat and dug deep for a suitable response.
“Oh damn,” Indigo gasped.
“Would you like to fill me in on why I’m here or keep passing around a cel–”
Thoughts of his occupation claimed me. Inwardly, I found it amusing that I wasn’t too far fetched.
Mayor.
Cop.
Same difference.
On the other side of the law, regardless. I could smell his political ties from a mile away. It wasn’t pork but it was close enough.
“I received a call this morning. Someone was following me that night. And, unfortunately, they captured our entire night.”
Mercer’s movement caught my attention. With furrowed brows, he requested an explanation.
“Mr. Grayson,” I began, witnessing the disappointment on Ishmael’s face.
He wasn’t fond of the name that rolled off my tongue.
“Was lost. I helped him find his way.”
“And someone caught it all on camera, claiming I was paying for pussy.”
Disgust replaced the disappointment on Ishmael’s face.
“Untrue.”
“But, could easily be assumed. You picked me up on the same block they’re selling pussy by the pound in Clarke. At least twenty-four thousand dollars are spent on that very stroll every night. Thirty six on weekends.”
“And you know this because?”
“There’s not much I don’t know about Clarke. Now, back to the call. Male or female?”
“Male.”
“Figured.”
“You saw him?”
“Possibly, but I doubt he was working alone. Could’ve been a partner.”
“Maybe the cameras at The Bal–”
“Finding him doesn’t make the evidence disappear. He could easily have everything scheduled and ready to go in the event of his death or imprisonment. I’m certain he’s thought this through. We need him alive.”
Ishmael nodded. So did Mercer. So did Indigo.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m right,” I stated as a matter of fact.
Ishmael began pacing. I made the mental note. He was unraveling at the seams. Weariness weighed him down, slowing his stride.
“How much is he asking for?”
“Two point five.” His brother spoke up.
“Million?”
“Yes,” Indigo responded.
“How much to make this go away?”
“Two point five,” I demanded.
“Million?” Indigo asked.
Ishmael stopped in his tracks. Eyes trained on me, he watched as I nodded.
“We might as well pay him for the images,” he reasoned.
I agreed, “Yeah. You should.”
I turned on the balls of my feet. Mercer didn’t hesitate to follow me.
I didn’t need his leadership. I remembered every corner we’d turned to get to the office we were in.
Just as I crossed the threshold, the thunderous baritone I remembered so vividly made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
“Royce!”
My eyes grew in my skull. My heart imploded. My chest caved. Everything around me roared with silence. All that was left was the unsteady breaths of mine, each armed with jagged edges.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
“One second!” Ishmael yelled across the room.
His fragrance washed me ashore as his words attempted to submerge me in his limitless realm.
“Yes?” I inquired, turning to face him.
“I–”
“I’m not in the business of convincing anyone of anything, especially not my worth. I will never explain or justify my price. It is whatever I decide it is. You can pay or not pay. Either way, both sides of my silk pillow will stay cool and I won’t lose a minute of sleep.”
“Understood. I’m not questioning your worth, but can you please fill me in on why you chose that number after hearing that was the number we’re working with on the other end?”
“Because, you can pay him the money and it become a total waste… because he’s going to release the images anyway. Or, you can allow me to handle it. Make it go away completely.”
He nodded.
“Next steps. What are the next steps?”
I slid the phone from his hand and searched for his banking application. Once locating it, I turned the phone toward him. His credentials were verified through face recognition. I confirmed the availability of the funds before sliding the phone back into his hand.
“The wire.”
I opened my briefcase and handed him the slip of paper with my banking details.
“And, after that? I was given twenty-four hours. I’m past that deadline. He’s going to releas–”
“Let him.”
“Let him? Let him do what?”
“Release them.”
With that, I headed out of his office again. This time, my exit was successful. Not because Mr. Grayson wanted it to be, but because he was too stunned to speak. To move. To demand more information. Or to cuss my Black ass out.
Click.
Clack.
My Prada pumps collided with the floor. Each step I took I regained a bit more of my power. Ishmael had stripped it all from me at once.
“Good day, ma’am. Sir.”
Mercer trailed close behind. Still, he hadn’t said a word. He wouldn’t. He knew me well enough to know that there was nothing to worry about. I’d handled enough for him. For Chem. For our family. His trust was unwavering.
We entered and exited the elevator quietly. Mercer began in my direction, but I stopped in my tracks.
“I’m fine. Go home to your baby girl. I will be around.”
“Seems that way, huh?”
“Yes. I’ll see you later. I love you.”
“In all of them lifetimes,” he responded, wrapping his arm around me.
He pulled back and broke contact. His truck was on the opposite side of the large parking lot. I observed until he disappeared behind the trees planted for shade.
The journey to my car was short. I was two rows away from the building’s entrance. I stretched my arm to open my door, but my effort fell short.
Ishmael’s presence was announced by his aroma. He confirmed it with the swatting of my hand. I turned to face him, pressing my back against my car.
Steady, Royce.
He was unearthing. I hadn’t met a flaw of his yet.
“Yes, Mr. Grayson?”
His nostrils widened.
“Ishmael. My fucking name is Ishmael,” he grunted.
“Can I help you?”
Unbothered by his discomfort, I waited for a response to my question.
“Are you insane?”
“I’m not following you here.”
“Release the images? You want him to release the image? Your face will be planted all over the news. Every station from here to Clarke.”
There.
My spine curled toward him. The root of his dilemma was revealed. It wasn’t his race he was most interested in saving. It was me.
From the scrutiny.
The embarrassment.
The shame.
The lies.
I peered into the darkness that surrounded him.
My God he’s gorgeous.
His skin was black like tar and smooth like a newborn’s backside.
And troubled.
His hair was perfectly lined. His teeth were perfectly aligned.
“Never let someone feel like they can dangle something over your head that’s absolutely nothing at all.”
It was a double entendre.
“Royce…” He sighed.
“I would’ve made sure you didn’t get in that car in your condition regardless. You don’t owe me anything but the $2.5 million dollars I’ve requested as my retainer. I can handle a little press and being called a whore. I’ve been called worse… I’ve been called a man.”
For years, the agents working our case considered us a syndicate full of men. The thought was repulsive.
“I’ve said I’ll handle it. Let me do my job.”
“Right. Right.”
“What phone has he been calling you on?”
He held up the one in his hand. I slid it from his fingers and threw it toward the ground. The collision caused irreparable damage. Ishmael watched in horror as it shattered.
“Consulting will begin once the money has been wired. Goodbye, Mr. Mayor.”
I slid into my Lamborgini, leaving Ishmael standing with his breath stuck in his throat, darkness in his eyes, and worry lines across his forehead.