Authors: D. L. Sparks
Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #General, #African American Police, #Urban Life, #Thrillers, #African American
Between Friends (3 page)
I looked up from my cup of coffee. “I'm good. How have you been?”
“I'm good. Been a minute since I been home.”
“What? This is still home for you?” I joked. “You act like you can't come up I-20 anymore.”
He chuckled. “You got jokes.”
“I'm just sayin'.” I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee.
“You still working at Four Seasons?”
I shook my head. “No I'm at 404.”
“Oh, you working at that club over on the west side? What you managing?”
I took a sip of my coffee. “No, I own it.”
He made a face like he was impressed. “Wow, so you big time now?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“How you like that?”
I nodded. “It's different running a whole spot, but I like it.”
“You must like it a lot, you driving that C-Class.”
I laughed. “Why you sizing up my whip?”
“You ballin' and I'm driving a departmental issue truck.”
“Whatever, that's by choice. Don't think I don't know about that BMW 550i you got parked in your driveway.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “You still nosy as hell. What else is going on?”
I took a bite of my waffle. “Oh! Remember Dionne? She manages it for me.”
His eyes got big. “For real? I haven't seen her since college. She still wild as hell?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she works the bar too, but I would be lost without her help.”
“Remember that fight she got into at the sophomore skate party at Cascade with Lisa Travers?”
I started cracking up. “Yes! Because I got caught in the middle of it and ended up with a bloody nose trying to pull her off that chick.”
He doubled over laughing. “That shit was hilarious.”
“Yeah, and you just stood there watching.”
“Are you crazy? Break up a girl fight,”âhe shook his headâ“not gonna happen.”
I rolled my eyes. “You're stupid.”
The waitress appeared at our table, getting both our attention.
Her brown skin had a refreshed glow about it, like she had gotten a good nap before her shift. Her micro braids were pulled back in a ponytail, and she had huge hoop earrings on, with a tattoo of something in cursive on the side of her neck. She smiled as she placed our plates in front of us.
“E'rythang look good?” she asked.
I looked from my plate to her big brown eyes. “Yes, it's fine. Thank you.”
With a smile and a nod, she left, taking her southern hospitality to her next table.
I took a bite of my waffle and felt Trip's eyes on me. I glanced up and smiled.
“Are you gonna watch me eat?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I just wanted to make sure your skinny ass still ate food. All the weight you've lost, you never know.”
“I got a wedding gown to fit into, I can't be all fat walking down the aisle.”
We laughed a little, but just a little.
With the mention of my wedding the sparkle in his eyes flickered and went out, like someone blowing out a candle. I pretended not to see and he turned his head toward the window, probably hoping I didn't notice as well.
While we ate, we visited the past, talked about old friends and new ones. He told me about his recent promotions and how he'd made a comfortable life in New Orleans.
“Trinity is never moving out, you know that right?” I said, when he mentioned his sister.
He laughed in agreement. “Yeah, you're probably right. How's your sister?”
“India is still India and still playing by her own rules.”
“She still in school?” he asked, shoving a piece of steak into his mouth.
“Of course she is. She wouldn't be India if she wasn't taking some class somewhere.” I laughed.
I truly believed my sister was trying to make college her career. Other than occasional work-study programs, the money that our grandfather left us, and the fact that our father had enough foresight to be well insured before he died, she'd never held down a regular job.
I asked, “What's up with Camille, y'all ready to walk down the aisle?”
He chuckled. “Excuse me?”
I smiled. “You heard me. You and Camille? Married?”
“No wedding bells this way, we stopped seeing each other a little while ago.”
I rolled my eyes. “What's up with that?”
He smiled and took a sip of his orange juice. “So,” he started, “how's your little boy? What's his name again?”
“Oh so I guess we changing the subject?” I asked.
“You would be guessing right.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “Cameron. His name is Cameron.”
“Cameron, that's right,” he repeated. “Hopefully, I get to see him before I leave. Last time I was home he was still a baby and I definitely wanna stop by and holler at your mom.”
I nodded and smiled. “Definitely. Last time you came I didn't even get see you, I had to hear about it secondhand.”
“I know that was my fault. I came in to handle some things for my mom and I dipped back out. How's your grandmother?” he asked.
“She's okay. Last winter she fell and broke her hip so Mama moved her in with her.”
“Oh wow, I'm sorry to hear that.”
“She was outside on the ground for almost an hour before someone realized she was there and came to help her.”
He shook his head and took a drink of his orange juice. “Wow. Well it's a good thing she's with your mom now.”
Sitting there with him I had so many things going through my mindâemotions that I didn't recognize and some I knew all to well. I knew how much I was risking, sitting here with him, but it felt good to be around him again. I missed my best friend; I missed talking with him like we used to do. Throughout college he was constantly a shoulder for me when it came to Lincoln. He was always good at picking me up and dusting me off, and assuring me that things would always work outâeventually.
My thoughts were interrupted by his voice.
“Well I'm really glad things are good with you.”
I smiled up at him. “Yeah, things are pretty good. I can't really complain.”
His face softened. “Then seriously, I really am happy for you.”
“Don't get it twisted, we have our issues but what couple doesn't? His hours are crazy, but we make it work.”
He took a bite of his steak. “I don't think I could handle being responsible for anyone else.”
“So you don't think you'll move back at all?”
“I doubt it,” he said between bites. “There's nothing here for me.”
I sank back in my seat and looked at him. Different emotions took jabs at me with his statement, my mind was cloudy and I was crossing lines that had been drawn in the sand a long time ago.
He held his hands out for me to take, and I did. I looked up into his eyes and was surprised to find sympathy living in them. The warmth of his skin against mine caused my heart to pick up speed.
“Come on, you know what I mean.”
I slid my hands free from his. “You're good.”
“Just because I don't live here anymore doesn't mean I don't still care about you,” he continued. “You know that right?”
“I know.” I smiled. “I just miss my friend.”
“I miss you too, but I can't come back here, Idalis.”
“Why not?”
He winked. “Because Atlanta's not big enough for me and your man's egos.”
I let out a small laugh. “You make me sick. But you do have a point. Let's go.”
He paid the bill and walked me to my car. Both of us moved slowly as we made our way across the parking lot. For the first time I became aware of how humid the air was as it hung over us, weighing me down even more.
I asked, “Where are you going now?”
“Back to my hotel. You gonna be okay?”
He got close to me.
He looked in my eyes, as if trying to read my thoughts.
Being this close to him after all this time was surreal. Part of me wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was really here. Another part of me wanted to turn and run and act like I'd never seen him.
I felt like the world was spinning and I was standing still. “Yea, I'll be fine.”
I took a step back.
Put much needed space between us.
I pulled my keys out of my purse and hit the button on the remote. My car's lights flashed. “I gotta go, Trip.”
He hugged me and I inhaled him deeply.
The hardness of his body, the firmness of his grip.
I wanted to take him all in.
Commit everything to memory.
It wasn't until I was tucked safely behind the dark tint of my windows that I finally exhaled.
Chapter Three
Trip
Tension had a grip on my neck which was making it hard to focus as my loud-talking SAC addressed the packed conference.
Lenny DeLuca was our special agent in charge. I watched Lenny's stocky frame as he paced the small floor in front of the conference room. His square jaw and dark Italian features were tucked beneath a black DEA cap.
At first glance you'd think he was in his mid-forties, even with the salt-and-pepper goatee that he sported. It was hard to believe he was over fifty.
He'd been DEA for over twenty years and had served a stretch in the U.S. Marines before that. We were told that his no-nonsense attitude was what had propelled him up the ranks. Everyone under his watch respected and trusted him with everything.
There were about ten agents, from both Atlanta and New Orleans, crammed into the conference room. We were all being briefed on the situation in Atlanta. Phil was next to me, and he was devouring a sandwich he'd gotten from Quiznos. He had the conference room lit up with the smell of steak and onions. I was ready to get out of the room and get some fresh air.
“Atlanta P.D. is ready to cooperate fully with this investigation. They weren't happy about us stomping around in their backyard, but I did a good enough job at helping them see the big picture,” Lenny informed the group.
“Wow, Lenny, you took over their city like that?” a voice yelled out from the back of the room.
The agents from New Orleans couldn't help but laugh. Mainly because we knew that whatever Lenny wanted, Lenny got when it came to investigations. He was connected on levels that I had yet to discover. And when he decided that he wanted you to see things his way, that's exactly what you did.
He smiled. “Damn right. They wanted help, well they got it.”
Laughter erupted in the tiny room, mostly from those of us who'd traveled up I-20 and invaded Atlanta's territory.
He held up his hand. “Okay, okay, ladies,” Lenny joked. “That's enough. I think we all have the same goal here. We need to plug this hole that's funneling the contraband into the jail. Just last week an inmate shot another inmate with a gun that was smuggled inside.
“Somebody is picking off big-time drug dealers, one by one. We don't know if there is a new dealer in town or just someone trying to make a name for himself, but we need to find out, and we need to do it fast.”
He picked up a folder and spread the contents on the table. The officers all took turns eyeing the paperwork inside. “Spencer, you and your team are over off Moreland.” He dropped a folder on the table and pushed it so it slid toward me. I reached out and stopped it. “Atlanta informed me this morning that they have a couple UC's working on this as well. So keep that in mind when you're out there shaking trees.”
An agent down front asked, “Are they gonna give us a heads-up?”
He shook his head. “As of right now, no. They know who they are, and will share reports with us tagged with the officer's ID number only. It's for the officer's protection, and to try to maintain some integrity in the investigation.”
“Lemme get this right. They obviously got holes in their organization big enough to drive a car through, but they wanna keep secrets from us?” I asked.
Lenny ignored my blow at Atlanta's mediocre cop work. “Okay, you all are in this room because you're the best at what you do. Let's get this case wrapped up guys so I can go home. I don't like Atlanta. The traffic is horrible, and I can't get a decent jambalaya.”
After the meeting I made my way to the kitchenette at the end of the hall for a cup of much-needed coffee. As I poured a cup of the steaming liquid, my partner walked in and laughed.
“Whoa, what's up? Your night must've turned out better than I thought. You never drink coffee.”
“Man, shut up.” I laughed, pulling out a chair and sitting down at one of the dingy white tables that the secretaries and desk workers used to eat lunch.
Phil pulled out the chair across from me and sat down. “So what's up? What happened last night? You and your girl hook up?” He opened a bag of chips.
“It's not like that. We just talked.”
He looked confused. “That's it?”
“Yeah, we left the gym and went to Waffle House.”
“Really?” Phil leaned back and gave me a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“You stupid.” I shook my head. “What did you think was gon' happen?”
“From what you told me about her, I figured you two would've ended up back at your hotel room, with you blowing her back out.”
I busted out laughing. “Nah, we just cool. It's been that way ever since we were shorties.”
“So you mean to tell me you never hit that?”
I shook my head. “It ain't like that. We're just friends.”
“Man, if she as fine as you say she is, then I really
am
sorry to hear that,” he laughed.
am
sorry to hear that,” he laughed.
I got up and dumped the strong black coffee in the sink. “Man, let's go. We got surveillance to do.”
“No, playa, you got it wrong.
You
got surveillance work to do. You driving and I'm taking a nap. I didn't get any sleep, but I got a good reason.”
You
got surveillance work to do. You driving and I'm taking a nap. I didn't get any sleep, but I got a good reason.”
I stopped and looked at him. “And what's that?”
“Denise and Desiree.”
“Twins?”
He just stood there, nodding and smiling.
I headed toward the door. “Let's go. You can tell me about it on the way.”
Twenty minutes later we pulled the black unmarked Tahoe into a spot nestled about three houses away from the house that was under surveillance. As promised, my partner slid down in his seat and pulled his black DEA cap down over his eyes.
“Wake me up if you see anything interesting.”
I couldn't help but chuckle. “Yeah, okay.”
We both knew that surveillance work could take as little as a day or as long as a month. It was a matter of the luck of the draw. So for the next four hours, we took turns watching the dilapidated house on Hollywood Road. I did more watching than Phil, whose snoring was starting to get on my damn nerves.
Crackheads and dealers made their way in and out, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.
“Get up, dude. Ain't that your CI?” I asked, nudging Phil with my elbow.
“Yeah, that's him. Hit the lights.”
I flashed the headlights twice, and we watched as Darius checked his surroundings before he started a sluggish jog in our direction. He probably couldn't get up the speed to run because he was so big and sloppy, on top of the fact that his pants were down around his ass. When he approached the truck, I instinctively rested my hand on my gun.
Phil rolled down the window. “Yo, what you doing over here?”
He shook his head and looked up the street from where he'd just come. “Just chillin'. Ain't nothing goin' on over here. It's just the same crowd.”
Darius kept eyeing me, and I did likewise. I didn't like dealing with a CI that I wasn't familiar with, but this dude and Phil had developed a good relationship. So if my partner trusted him, then I had to trust him as well.
“Damn,” Phil said. “Can't you call someone? Let them know you're looking for weight.”
Darius frowned at him. “What, you think we all hang out playing Xbox and texting each other and shit?”
I couldn't help but laugh at that.
Phil sank back in his seat. “Come on, Darius, I need something.”
“Look, just gimme a couple days to try to come up with something. I might know somebody, a brotha named Twist. He always knows a little bit of something about everything. Let me see if I can catch up with him. Cool?”
“A'ight, call as soon as he get at you,” Phil instructed.
“No doubt.”
Phil rolled up the tinted window and looked over at me. “You ready to call it a night?”
“Whatever, you slept most of the time,” I laughed.
“Told you I was tired.”
After I dropped Phil off at his car, I checked the time. It was pushing up on eight, but I decided to stop past my mom's, anyway. I hadn't seen her or my sister since I'd been in town. Plus I was starving, and a drive-through just wasn't gonna cut it for me right now.
I pulled into the tiny driveway in front of the even smaller house situated over in southwest Atlanta. I swear, when I was growing up, this house and yard used to be huge. Now it seemed so small and inconsequential. Back then, however, I wasn't six foot two and 195 pounds.
The light in the living-room was on, letting me know someone was up. I took a deep breath and killed the engine on the truck. Memories started flying at me like I was in a batting cage. Each one held its own dose of emotion. When I saw the curtains in the front window rustle, it was official.
I was home again.
I hopped out of the truck and made my way to the front door. Before I could rest my hand on the doorknob, my baby sister snatched the door open and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“Oh my God! Trip! When did you get here?” she shrieked.
“I got in town a few days ago,” I said, walking into the house with Trinity still wrapped around my body.
She slid off me and placed her feet on the floor and her hands on her full-sized hips. “And you're just now coming by here? Mommy gon' be mad.”
“I was doing some surveillance work, couldn't get away. This bust ruffled a lot of feathers.”
She smiled big. “Well, now that my big brother is in town, it's all good!”
I cracked a smile. “Glad you have that much faith in me.”
She looked around me, back at the front door. “Where's your fine-ass partner?”
“Shut up, Trinity and move.” I brushed by her and made my way toward the kitchen.
My sister had grown from a scraggly, knobby-kneed teenager to a beautiful woman. She could rival the best of them in the looks and the body department. Her hazel eyes, which nestled beneath her long, thick eyelashes, and her high cheekbones combined to give her the kind of exotic look that most women were paying for at the cosmetic counter and plastic surgeon's. A few months ago she told me that she was starting to loc her hair, and it looked good.
“Where's Mom?” I asked.
“In bed, lying down. Her hip has been bothering her.”
I changed my direction and headed toward the hallway that led to my mother's room. “Hook me up with a plate. I'm starving,” I said to my sister. Then I tapped on the worn wooden door before slowly pushing it open. “Mama?”
Her small body changed positioned in the bed and she turned her focus from the television to me. “Orlando?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Her tiny hands covered her mouth. “Oh my Jesus! When did you get here? Come here and give me a hug!”
I made my way to the bed and wrapped my mother up in my arms. Myrtle Spencer was truly small. I was scared that if I squeezed her too hard, she'd snap in half. She smelled like Noxzema and cocoa butter lotion. The same scent she'd carried since I could remember. Trinity always tried to buy her new stuff, but she always went back to what she liked. I never told her, but I was always glad when she did. Those other smells were foreign to me; they didn't smell like home.
“I got here a few days ago. Been doing some work. Sorry it took me so long to come by.”
She reached up and took my hat off my head. I laughed to myself. My mother had a strict rule: no hats on in the house. It was sign of disrespect as far as she was concerned. “Your hair is too long.”
I smiled. Mama hated the locs when I started growing them back in college. But just as much as she hated them, she hated the braids I used to wear even more.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, starting to get up out of the bed.
“Mama, I'm okay. Trinity is fixing me something now. You stay in the bed. She told me your hip has been bothering you. Have you been to the doctor?”
She waved her hand in my direction. “Hogwash, they know about as much as I do. I just need to stay off it for a while. I'll be fine.”
I laughed at her feisty attitude. I knew there was no way I was gonna convince her otherwise, but I was gonna make sure Trinity got her to the doctor by the end of the week.
“Where are you staying?” she asked.
I never stayed with my mom when I came to town. In my line of work, I didn't want to draw attention to my family if I could help it. All it took was one pissed-off drug dealer or runner and my world would be twisted up in an instant.
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