CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Mercedes drove into the parking lot of Joy’s apartment complex.
It was in the hood, William recognized. There was no doubt about that.
But in his view the hood in a small town gave off a different vibe than the hood in a big city like Chicago.
The people were no doubt just as poor as those ghetto-dwellers in Chicago, but in Bridell they weren’t packed on top of each other like a can of sardines. They had breathing room.
“My apartment is all the way in the back,” Joy said to the driver. He began driving slowly in that direction.
“You were able to keep your apartment while you were incarcerated?” William found that curious. Did she have a roommate living with her? Or a boyfriend? Why did he suddenly become worried that she might have a boyfriend?
“I paid my rent a couple days before I was arrested,” she responded. “I’m only a week behind. I’ll get slapped with a late fee for sure, but around here they don’t evict you for just being a week late or most people would be evicted.”
“That’s what I love about small towns,” William said. “They have higher moral standards than those of us in the city.”
“Now that’s just bullshit,” Joy said bluntly.
William looked at her. Ed glanced through the rearview mirror at her.
“You disagree?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t know how you can. Go to almost any small town in America and you will find very low crime. Only a handful of murders in a year, or even just one of two murders a year. Last year alone we had four-hundred-and-twenty murders in Chicago.”
“But how can you compare a small town to Chicago? There are very few murders in small towns because there are very few people. You put the people here, and you’ll get the murders here.”
William smiled. He noticed Joy seemed much more relaxed now that she was back home. “You have a point there.”
“Think about it though: Bridell has four thousand people living here. Last year we had five murders. Chicago has how many people?”
“Nearly three million,” said William, “if you don’t include the wider metropolitan areas.”
“Pull out your phone and do the math,” she said.
Ed, stunned by the way she was speaking to the boss, glanced at her again. But William found her fascinating. He gladly pulled out his phone and went to the calculator. “Okay, what do you want me to calculate?”
“A big city with three million people and four-hundred-and-twenty homicides per year, versus a small town with four thousand people and five homicides per year. Which one has the higher murder rate percentage-wise?” she asked him.
William wasn’t about to rely on his own math skills to answer a question that complex. He, instead, relied on Google to do the math for him. He typed in her request. “Ah.” He was surprised by the answer. “The small town has a higher murder rate.”
“I told you!” She was smiling.
Which made him smile. “Okay okay. I get your point. You put more people here, you get more crime.”
“Exactly,” said Joy. “I get so tired of these white folks getting on TV talking about we don’t have crime in our town like those big cities. You also don’t have people in your town like those big cities. But put the people there,” she said, and he laughed.
Then he looked at her as the Mercedes stopped. And she looked at him. “Thank you. I’ll send you some gas money when I get back to work.”
This girl, William thought. He truly liked this girl.
“No need to pay me back,” he said. But speaking of work, he wanted to talk to her about the reason she came to Chicago in the first place.
But he knew his office building had trauma attached to it in her eyes now.
He had to tread lightly. “Mind if I use your restroom?”
“Sure you can! I’m sorry.” She was about to get out, but he was still holding her hand. Which she found so endearing. She looked at him again when he wasn’t releasing it. She was amazed at how nice he seemed.
William’s bodyguard got out and opened the door on William’s side. Which made William finally release her hand and step out. Then he reached out his hand to help her out.
But just as he did, Juanita Lacey and a man Joy didn’t recognize came walking down the stairs of the apartment building. When Juanita saw Joy, she hesitated. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” Joy asked her.
“I was . . . visiting a friend.”
Joy glanced at that man. More like visiting a client, she thought.
But Juanita was too busy eyeing William. Which only made Joy despise her more. “Where’s Blue?” Joy asked her.
Juanita gave her a snarling look. “Don’t you worry about Blue.” Then she glanced at William again. “Worry about yourself.”
Then she and her male “client” left.
Joy shook her head in disgust and headed for the stairs.
“Who was that?” William asked she as they, and his bodyguard, began climbing the stairs.
“My mother,” Joy said as if it was no big deal at all.
William looked back at the beautiful black lady, and he could see a resemblance, but he dared not pursue that at all.
They made their way in silence up the six flights of stairs to Joy’s apartment.