Chapter Thirty-Nine
Thirty-Nine
Once the cops left, all hell broke loose, all at once.
“This is ridiculous!”
“Can’t go nowhere without running into those clowns.”
“Assault? That’s crazy. He’s been too busy working to have time to fight.”
Jamilah broke away from the hubbub and ran for her phone.
“Please pick up,” she murmured, as she tapped the Speaker button. “Come on, Daddy. Please!”
The call went to voice mail.
“Daddy, it’s me. Rashad got arrested! It’s a mistake, Daddy. Please call me back ASAP, as soon as you can.”
She joined Rashad’s friends in the dining room, listened as Juke called Tyson and relayed the news.
After listening, Tyson said three words. “On my way.”
“It was her.” Jamilah rushed to the door and yanked it open. She scoured the block from one side to the other, walked to the corner, down the alley and back. Adrenaline pumped so hard her feet barely touched the ground. Jamilah knew the person behind this, as sure as she knew her name.
When she returned to the shop, the men gathered around her. PhD turned spokesman. “What do you need us to do?”
“I don’t know,” Jamilah said, sinking into the nearest chair. “I need to reach my father. I’ve got to get to Rashad.”
She almost broke then. Juke hurried over and squeezed her shoulder. “Stay strong,” he all but demanded. “This isn’t Rashad’s first rodeo with some bullshit. We’ll find out what happened and whoever did this and do whatever it takes to get him out.”
“You think it’s that girl?” Antonio asked Jamilah.
“I know it is.”
She told his friends the whole story, from that first swipe right until tonight.
Sky Walka turned a chair around and sat in it backward. “Something about her seemed off to me. She’s gorgeous, but something about those eyes…”
“I wasn’t looking at her eyes,” Antonio mumbled.
Except for Jamilah, the levity was appreciated. As for her, she sat angry and plotting, suddenly very aware of how unsuspecting people ended up in jail.
Tyson arrived, phone pressed to his ear, wearing authority like a tailored suit. “I’ve got one of my contacts reaching out to a local attorney. We won’t be able to do anything until we know what this is about.”
“A woman scorned,” Juke said, and told Tyson about the earlier encounter.
“Look, guys, I appreciate you wanting to help. But I need to handle this. My father is in law enforcement and—”
“Your daddy’s a cop?”
“Former cop, current detective…and a damned good one.”
The tone in how she answered Juke dared anyone in the room to speak against James Carver.
“Just hang on until I hear from my dad. He’ll know what to do. In the meantime, I can drive y’all to the hotel.”
“I’ll handle that,” Tyson answered.
He walked over and offered a light hug. “You go take care of your man.”
After the guys left, Jamilah became frantic. Rashad getting arrested replayed in her head. She called her father a dozen times. Texted him, too. Unable to sit still, she drove down to the police station in her father’s former precinct. There, she saw familiar faces but no one who could help her.
“If he just got arrested, that information might not yet be in the database,” one officer said. “And even if it was, we couldn’t release it.”
“But you know my father!”
“Sorry, Jamilah. It’s police procedure. As a detective, James might be able to move a little differently.”
“Can you at least tell me where they took him?”
An older man Jamilah remembered from years ago said, “Jackson County Detention Center, most likely. He can probably get bonded out in the morning. Till then, my advice is to go home and try to get some rest. James has been tied up with an ongoing investigation. I’ll personally try to contact him and have him call you. ”
Jamilah drove home on autopilot, too shocked to cry. She wanted to wake up from this nightmare—Rashad housed in the same facility as the men he hoped to hire.
Once home, the tears came. A flurry of thoughts assailed her. Unbidden, old recordings of her father began to play in her head, about thugs and criminals not to be trusted. She shook her head against the onslaught. Rashad had changed. He wasn’t the same man who had spent years in prison.
But what if by some random chance her father was right?
What if she’d misjudged Rashad’s character, allowed attraction and desire to cloud her view?
Eyes narrowed, she peered into the soul of an average female.
Most women she knew wouldn’t act like the Stalker, become obsessed with a man after only one night.
“No!”
She refused to believe that Rashad was anyone other than the man he’d been since she first laid eyes on him at Monique’s party.
Seeing one of his bandannas on the table, she walked over and grabbed it, returned to the sofa with his scent close to her heart.
She vowed not to fall asleep until she heard from her dad.
Several hours later, however, she was being gently shaken awake.
“Jamilah.”
The voice sounded far away, as though speaking through water. Clearly, she was dreaming. That reality drew a fresh set of tears.
“Jamilah, it’s me. Wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Rashad?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “Rashad!”
She jumped up and into his arms. “Oh my God! I can’t believe it. How’d you get out of jail? How’d you get here?”
“I brought him here, baby girl.”
A gasp, as Jamilah whipped around to see her father standing near the door.
“I know I’m dreaming now,” she said, again rubbing her eyes.
“No, Boss Lady, this is real,” Rashad assured her.
Overcome with emotional exhaustion, Jamilah sank to the couch. “I don’t understand.”
“Why don’t we all sit down?” her dad suggested, taking a seat in a nearby chair. “It’s time the three of us had a conversation that’s long overdue. First of all, Rashad, I owe you an apology. I misjudged you horribly and made life for you tough when it didn’t have to be.”
Jamilah sat as still as a statue, afraid that if she moved, then like a mirage, her father would disappear.
Her dad ran weary hands over his face. Only then did Jamilah really notice the bags beneath his eyes. He looked tired—no, weary. As though he’d aged since their war of wills began.
He looked at Rashad, sitting by Jamilah.
“Recently, your PO, Thomas, paid me a visit. Told me we needed to talk. That I’d gotten you all wrong.
He knows how stubborn I can be and wasn’t surprised when I didn’t want to hear a thing he was saying.
Fortunately, Thomas is just as bullheaded as me and one of only a handful of folk who can call me on my bullshit and get me to listen.
That’s what I did, Rashad. I sat there and heard what he had to say.
“He told me about your place next door and the program for prior offenders the two of you have put together. Told me it was your idea and how impressed he was that you’d brought it to him.
He shared a few more things, using the type of colorful language that doesn’t bear repeating.
He forced me to consider you and this situation with Jamilah from a different perspective than the one I’d held.
For making you out to be the one I read on paper and not the one here helping my daughter, I apologize and hope that one day you can forgive me. ”
Jamilah felt Rashad place an arm around her. “After what you shared on the ride over, I forgive you right now.”
“What did he tell you?” Jamilah asked.
“It’s a long story and still an active case, so I’ll only say so much.
For the past two years we’ve been working to crack a ring of…
thieves for lack of a better word. Women who target men with either high profile or questionable backgrounds, threaten to cry wolf, or rape, or assault…
and then blackmail them into giving them money to drop the charges. ”
Jamilah jumped to her feet. “I knew it was her! She set you up.” And then back to her father, “Rashad was set up, wasn’t he?”
“The accuser has established a pattern that would make such a conclusion likely. But it’s been hard to get the kind of evidence that will stick. Without clear-cut video surveillance or a credible witness, instances like this are he said, she said. That’s why it’s such a hard case to crack.
“She’s not working alone. We believe it could even be some type of ring, with a leader at the top giving them advice, helping them plot and using his or her know-how of the law to keep the scheme going.
They’ve had a level of success. Some men who don’t want to or can’t afford that type of accusation, or to fall into public scrutiny, would rather pay up than seek justice. ”
“Isn’t there something we can do?” Jamilah returned to the couch as a thought occurred. “We’ve got her on video! Her and Rashad argued right at the front door!”
“Rashad told me about her restaurant visits, and what happened earlier. A good attorney could explain all of that away as lovers fighting.”
Jamilah’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “If she keeps getting away with the crime, it’ll keep happening. One of Rashad’s friends believes there may be mental issues. What if she comes after him again?”
“A warrant has been issued. For now, that’s all I can say.”
“Daddy,” Jamilah began after long moments had passed, “what do I need to know about my grandfather?”
“Everything,” James finally answered. “And one day I’ll tell you.
For now, suffice it to say that he was an abuser who mistreated my mama, your grandmother.
I was too young to defend her and vowed to one day become a police officer and lock his ass up.
He died before I could make good on that promise.
Locking up everyone else who breaks the law was the next best thing. ”
You know that moment in the classic The Wizard of Oz when the picture changes from black-and-white into Technicolor?
The come-to-Jesus meeting in her condo brought that type of change.
While all her life Jamilah had known her daddy, in the days and weeks following his unburdening, she finally got to know James.
Science fiction movies often spoke of jumping timelines and multiple dimensions.
Jamilah came as close to something like that as one could experience in a human lifetime.
As flowers bloomed, rain fell, and spring eased into summer, Jamilah found herself in a whole new world that looked nothing like her old life.
Side Chic’k now bustled with color and life.
Antonio, trained by Rashad, now ran the kitchen alongside him.
Shasta had been joined by Daniela, Berniece, and Kim, young women who’d avoided jail time by enrolling in the program inspired by Rashad, designed by Mr. Turner, and facilitated by the Department of Corrections.
Professional photos of the food Side Chic’k offered lent splashes of color to the decor, and were perfectly showcased against the stark white walls.
Jamilah adjusted her business hours to close at eight thirty, before Behind Bars’s entertainment started at nine.
Rashad’s official opening coincided with the Soul Train event, but in the weeks leading up to the big day, he conducted a series of soft openings to work through the kinks. The energy was as he’d envisioned, with a diverse group of twenty- and thirtysomethings enjoying gaming, music, and food.
By far, the biggest change Jamilah witnessed was with her father.
It was as though her dad had carried the sins of his father.
In telling the truth to Jamilah, a weight was lifted off his neck.
He was still swamped with work but texted more often, made quick stops at Side Chic’k, and actually complimented Rashad on the Behind Bars concept.
Jamilah had once said that to see those two get along, hell would have to freeze over. A part of her still left the house looking for ice.