Chapter 3
THREE
I shut the door of my office and closed the blinds. Fury and fascination were both fighting to consume me. Indie leaned against my desk with his face planted in my cell. I snatched it away from him, knowing exactly what he had his eyes on.
“I thought you said she would help!” I yelled, garnering his attention.
Shrugging, Indie stood straight like an arrow.
“Man, Mercer is as solid as they come. If that nigga says she’s going to handle it, then she’s going to handle that shit.”
“Who is he anyway?”
“The nigga I did time with. The one with the res–”
“The M?”
“Yes. We went to his grand opening.”
“And I’ve been back four times since. The steak is just– the shit is ridiculous.”
“Me, too.” Indie chuckled. “I’m in that motherfucker at least once a month with something bad to the fucking bone.”
“I’m sure.”
My loafers were pinned to the ground and lifted rapidly. Over and over. My hand pressed against my forehead.
“She destroyed the phone he’s been contacting me on.”
“Damn. Did you at least get the SIM out that bitch?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I got it.”
“Hand it here. I’ll put it in the one you’re holding.”
I handed Indigo both the SIM and the older cell. For now, it would have to work. I knew Royce wanted him to lose contact but so many more important calls came through that line. I didn’t need to miss either of those.
“Make sure she gets her money,” I breathed out. “Make sure it doesn’t trace back to me.”
“Say less.”
“Fuck, she’s high as hell. Charging me two poin–”
“You should look into her.”
“Have you?”
A pain shot down my spine as I twisted my neck, planting my eyes on my brother.
“I did while you were downstairs.”
His mouth knotted and his forehead slid backward, shortening his hairline.
“And?”
“Shiiiid–I’m happy that’s all she charged us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Chemist.”
Indie’s eyes grew bigger as he explained. I searched my memory but didn’t have to dig far.
“Chemistry Childers? Most wanted man in all of Huffington?”
“Fucking right.”
“Royce Childers. She and Mercer share a brother.”
“That’s why she’s not afraid of being in the public eye,” I whispered.
The wheels were turning. The facts were linking. The vague was becoming very fucking clear. Royce was no longer a beautiful blur.
“She doesn’t give a fuck about what motherfuckers think of her. She wants a mess to be made so she can clean it up. That’s what they do.”
I continued pacing. Nearly every explanation I’d conjured was dismantled. Royce wasn’t just impressive by the beauty standards. She was smart and resourceful. Wealthy and reserved. Tantalizing. Deemed untamable. Her type wasn't conquered or controlled.
They had the mental strength and capacity of an elephant.
Their memory never failed them. Neither did their resources or capabilities.
Their reach was beyond the comprehension of a law abiding, tax paying citizen.
Just like me, they were above the law. In fact, the law didn’t exist in our worlds. It was a nuisance.
I’ve been called far worse… I’ve been called a man.
My brother’s chuckles startled me. I turned in his direction. A fist covered his mouth.
“What the hell you laughing at?”
“Nothing man.” He shook his head, handing me the phone.
It rang immediately. I pressed the button on the side to silence it. I wasn’t interested in taking any calls. Not at this moment. I’d return it as soon as Indigo told me what the fuck was so funny.
“Nah, nigga, what’s funny?”
“You!”
“What about me?”
He shook his finger in my direction.
“I know that look, Ish. I know that fucking look,” he sniggered.
“What look?”
Baffled, I lifted my shoulders and leaned in closer, dropping my head to the right as I waited for an explanation.
“I have that same look when I see something I can’t go too much longer without having a piece of.
I have that same goddamn look when I’m thinking about how I’m gon’ take that shit down and nail it to the nearest mattress.
And, if ain’t naan around, then the nearest fucking couch, counter– whatever, wherever nigga. ”
“I’m more concerned with my luck,” I lied, “What are the odds of the woman in the images being the woman who is supposed to help me wiggle my way out of this situation and secure the votes of Berkeley.”
“You’re going to be the mayor, Ish. Ain’t no denying that. If you ask me, that’s good luck. You have somebody on your side that will make sure you’re in that seat November twelfth.”
“At a hefty price.”
“You act like you ain’t got it to give.”
I do and I want to give it to her. Just not for the work she’s about to do. I want to give it to her because she asked. Because she’s ready to start a consulting firm. Or because she wants to buy a small private plane. Or because she’s depleted her savings. Or because what’s mine is hers.
“I do and I will.”
“That’s the spirit, my boy,” Indie howled, laying his arm across my back.
“And, maybe when she finally lets you slide into her heavenly gates, it’ll all feel worth it.
That nigga wasn’t too far off, my brother.
You’re about to pay for what might be the most expensive pussy in the world. Two point five.”
He slapped his hand against my chest and rushed toward the door.
“Fuck you,” I retorted, knowing that everything he released was accurate.
I had never paid for pussy but today, I’d be settling a debt on the most expensive piece I’d ever have the pleasure of tasting.
And, that motherfucker better fall right off the bone.
My cell chimed, beckoning for my attention.
“Is that a yes, Mr. Grayson?”
It had been twenty-four hours since hiring Royce. This was her first point of contact. I stared at the message, rereading it six times as I attempted to pull words from her brain that she hadn’t placed in the text.
It was too simple.
Too formal.
Too cold.
Too straightforward.
Too meaningless.
A sigh sliced through the cold, brittle air.
Tomorrow.
The M.
7:00 PM.
Royce.
Three lines. Three numbers. Three punctuation marks.
Fourteen letters. I tipped my head rightward, realizing how little effort was placed in the message.
My chest tightened. The skin around at the corners of my eyes bunched as my fingers grew restless.
I massaged my beard, hoping to bring solace after such a disruption to my nervous system.
Let it go, Ish.
While the lack of effort shouldn’t have bothered me, it did. The entitlement I possessed for the woman who was no longer a stranger was on the rise and it had little to do with the money wired to her account. But, it had everything to do with her.
All of her.
“Mr. Grayson.”
I was plagued with the unknown. I was weighed down to my seat like an anchored ship. My hands moistened around the cell as I read the message again.
And again.
Hoping more words magically appeared on the screen. Or her voice on the line.
“Mr. Grayson!” Matte was no longer across the room.
She was beside me with a hand on my shoulder, forcing me out of my head and back into reality.
“Mr. Grayson, is everything alright?”
“Uh– yeah. Yeah. Everything is fine.”
“Is that a yes on your end?”
I didn’t recall what the conversation was about. Neither did I recall what I was agreeing to. But, the smile on Matte’s face assured me it was the right answer.
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Now, we just have to get these papers filed and hope for the best. I have a great feeling about this.”
“Wrapping this campaign up in less than two months. We’re in the home stretch. No hiccups and we’re all good. Keep doing what you’re doing, Mr. Grayson, we’re almost there,” Cameron cheered.
Applauses from around the room rang out. I lifted a hand to settle my team down.
“Listen–” I blackened the screen of my cell and stood on my feet.
The broad smiles began to fade. Curiosity spiked the temperature in the room. I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the first button on my shirt.
“At any minute, a shit storm is coming our way. I’ve been contacted several times regarding images taken in an attempt to falsify their origins. A few days ago, I traveled to Clarke to catch up with someone from my past.
“I got lost and the GPS was of no use. I stopped to ask a young woman for directions and turns out we were headed to the same place. She took the wheel and got me to my destination safely. After my night ended at the bar of the hotel I was meeting this person at, I bumped into the young lady again.
“She realized I’d had one too many drinks and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to drive home in my condition.
So, she was kind enough to make sure I got into one of those hotel beds safely.
I didn’t speak to her again after she left me there on the bed, fully clothed and intoxicated. Well, not until yesterday.
“That woman walked into my office. I’m sure you all seen her.
She walked into my office prepared to handle the scandal that she happens to be the center of.
I was sent a slew of images that misrepresents and undermines both of our characters.
Her name is Royce. Royce Childers and you will be seeing a lot of her until this campaign ends. ”
“Mr. Gr– How do we know she’s not the person behind the bla–” Matte asked.
“Because she’s not.”
“Okay, but what abou–” Cameron started.
“I am in no mood to say more on the matter at the moment. Just know that it is being handled. I need you to keep working hard. Eyes on your computer screens. We’ve got this.”
I exited the conference room without another word. Upon entering my office, I closed the blinds. At one point I knew I had this election by the balls. In the last forty-eight hours my perspective had been shifted.
While I was still confident in my abilities to head Berkeley, I wasn’t very confident in the people who were tasked with getting me to that point. The voters would be in an uproar the second those images released.
“FUCK,” I shouted, slamming my palm against the desk.