Keyshia and Clyde (19 page)

Chapter 33
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It was five-thirty in the morning when Keyshia sat up painfully in bed. She hadn't been able to get out of bed for three days now, not even to eat. She suddenly felt a need to get on her knees and pray to God, something she hadn't done since she was twelve years old and He didn't answer her prayers to have the pastor stop doing bad things to her. But this morning was different, and the urge was overwhelming to ask Him to give her the strength not only to complete her mission, but to shower, dress, and make it downtown in spite of her awful sickness. She rolled onto her knees and prayed. Prayed like she never did before as she cried out to God.

“God, I know You and me ain't communicate in a while. And You should also know the reason why I ain't been talking to You is because You ain't been there for me like they say You would. I ain't do nothing to deserve what You been giving me. And when I do find happiness, why You don't see fit to have me keep it instead of taking it away, Lord?” Keyshia began to grow angry. “They say You suppose ta take care of fools and babies. Well, Lord, I am both—when are You going to start taking care of me for a change!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She shook her head as if nothing mattered anymore. “Lord, I'm tired of crying. I'm to the point that I ain't got no more tears to cry, and all I want from You is to give me strength to get out of here and save the only man that ever loved me.” She looked up and said, “Please, God, I ain't asking for much, please.”

Keyshia closed her eyes and took a deep breath and used her elbows as support, lifting one leg at a time as she labored to rise off the floor. When she was on her feet, she closed her eyes in relief and thanked God silently before she waddled off into the bathroom, where she took a much needed shower.

Keyshia dressed slowly, looking at her body in the mirror all the while. Even though she carried small, her pregnancy was still noticeable. She rubbed her stomach ever so gently in a circular motion. She had long gotten over the guilt of putting her present circumstances in jeopardy and assured herself that this was her fate. She no longer had any options; it was get Clyde out of jail—or die trying.

Fully dressed in all black, which matched both the occasion and her mood, she felt the color would signify that this was their day of reckoning—a point of no return. She wore her black leather coat, black leather skirt, and high-heeled, knee-high black leather boots. She looked once again in the mirror—she was ready!

She waited until she could get to a pay phone to call Mike. She was about to commit a crime and didn't want Mike to be implicated by being the last person she'd made contact with before the shit went down.

“Hello?” said the man, who had obviously just awakened.

“Hello, Mike, this is Clyde's people,” Keyshia said.

More alert, he said, “Hey, hey, I been waiting on your call. Everything is in place and ready to go. I'm on the job personally to hand you off them two sandwiches so you can eat. What time you gonna be there so my girl and me can meet you?”

“I'm getting there first thing.”

“Cool, just tell me what you wearing so we recognize you.”

“Black leather from head to toe.”

“Okay, ma. I got you!” And he hung up.

Keyshia stood on the corner and checked the time. She was still nearly two and a half hours early. She turned and looked across the street at the diner. The baby was moving and turning violently; it was hungry because she hadn't eaten anything but crackers for three days. She rubbed her stomach and decided to go to the diner and give the baby a hearty breakfast, then head downtown.

When Keyshia arrived, the line into the courthouse was already starting to form, so she fell in with the rest of the blacks and Puerto Ricans who either had an appearance before the judge that day or were there to support their incarcerated loved ones.

By the time Keyshia made it to the fourth floor, she was beginning to feel dizzy. As soon as she got off the elevator, she ran to the bathroom, clutching her stomach, and then keeled over in pain. She finally reached the bathroom and ran into the nearest stall, where she threw up the morning's breakfast. She panted heavily as she fought to regain her composure when she heard a voice call her name: “Keyshia, you all right?” It was a Spanish girl about her age with a sympathetic expression on her face. Keyshia wiped the bile from her mouth and nose with her sleeve and nodded.

“I'm Lucy, Mike's girlfriend. He sent me in here to see if you was okay.” Still on her knees, Keyshia nodded. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she was not okay, so Lucy offered her a hand.

“Let me help you get on your feet.”

On her feet, Keyshia nodded and said, “Thanks a lot.”

In full view, Lucy looked Keyshia over and knew, even through her coat, that Keyshia was pregnant, but she remained silent. She snatched a paper towel from the wall dispenser and wet it with cold water and said, “Here, wipe you face and mouth with this. You'll feel better.” Keyshia wiped her mouth and face, and Lucy handed her a fresh wet paper towel.

“Now wipe this over your forehead and the back of your neck.” She did. Lucy smiled and said, “See, you looking better already.” Keyshia thanked her. Lucy smiled and asked, “You sure you okay?”

Keyshia stood up straight and said. “Yeah, I'm good now, thanks.”

Lucy turned around and asked, “You with Clyde, right?”

Keyshia nodded, and Lucy handed her a Louis Vuitton shoulder bag. “Mike told me to give this to you. You know what it is, right?” Keyshia nodded.

“The two sandwiches already got everything on it. There's a strap that come with it so you won't be detected. He told me to help you put it on.” Keyshia was somewhat confused, and Lucy smiled and said, “Don't worry, sister, I got you covered.” She led Keyshia into the stall and closed the door behind them and helped Keyshia take off her coat. After she secured the shoulder harness on Keyshia, she placed both handguns in them.

“You make sure you practice pulling them out because it can be a little stiff at first,” Lucy warned her. Keyshia crossed both her arms and pulled out the weapons. It felt a little jerky to her at first, but as she practiced it became easier. Lucy helped her put on her coat again, and they exited the stall. The girl inspected Keyshia one final time and smiled. “Perfect, you don't even look like you carrying.” Keyshia looked in the tiny mirror and agreed. They locked eyes, and Lucy gave her a long hug.

“Be safe, sister,” she said.

Keyshia took a deep breath and nodded reassuringly. “I will, I will. Tell Mike I said thank you.” Lucy forced a smile and said that she would and exited the bathroom.

The courtroom was nearly empty when Keyshia entered it. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she made her way to the second row on the right. As she sat waiting for what seemed like an eternity, she tapped her arms on the weapons that lay securely across her ribs for a sense of security.

After a long wait, the courtroom started coming alive as stone-faced court officers, court clerks, and aides busied themselves shuffling paperwork in preparation for the case at hand. Keyshia studied them all, but her main focus was on the two armed court officers who stood between her and her man. The district attorney and Clyde's court-appointed lawyer entered the courtroom.

Minutes later, the courtroom chamber door opened and in walked Clyde followed by a court officer who led him to his chair. A huge smile came to his face when he spotted Keyshia. Keyshia smiled back and noticed that today he had on a brand-new blue pin-striped suit and a fresh haircut. She marveled at how different he looked from the first time she'd seen him in court. She figured that Ceasar must have somehow got him the suit. Keyshia continued to make eye contact with Clyde, who smiled gleefully as he sat next to his lawyer. She stared at his face and watched him mouth, “Are you ready?” She nodded. She watched Clyde's eyes search the courtroom; she knew he was looking for Ceasar, who had yet to arrive.

Suddenly, the judge entered and the court officer barked for the courtroom to rise. The judge moved quickly toward his seat and waved them off to continue sitting down. Once the judge was in his seat, he asked the bailiff if the jury was ready.

“Yes, Your Honor,” said the bailiff.

The judge nodded. “Bring them in.”

The jurors filed into the courtroom and went to their seats. Keyshia watched Clyde stare at them all as if he were reading their thoughts, and when he turned to Keyshia he looked concerned.

The judge welcomed the jurors and explained to them the process of deliberation and coming to a verdict. After he was satisfied they understood, he dismissed them and reminded them that they had to come to a unanimous decision. They then followed the court officer to the jurors' room.

Keyshia sat on the hard courtroom bench for nearly three hours and began to grow sicker by the minute. The pregnancy and anxiety from the trial had taken their toll on her. At moments she felt as if she would pass out in the hot, unventilated courtroom as sweat drenched the inside of her leather outfit. But nothing was worse than the bile that kept rising in her esophagus, causing her to run to the bathroom and throw up painfully. She prayed for the jurors to come to the right decision quickly.

Just as she felt she would pass out, the court officer yelled, “Court come to order. The Honorable David N. Klein, presiding. ” The judge came out of his chambers holding a thick folder and took his place on the bench. Keyshia didn't even bother to rise. The judge cleared his throat and removed a piece of paper from the folder and looked it over. He stared down from his throne and asked, “Where is the defendant?”

One of his officers yelled, “The defendant is coming in now, Your Honor.”

The judge nodded and continued shuffling through the papers before him. Finally, Clyde came through the door with the burly officer right behind him.

Keyshia came alert as the door opened and one by one the jurors began to file in. She watched every juror look straight ahead without so much as a glance in Clyde's direction—this was bad.

Now satisfied that everyone was in place, the judge nodded to the stenographer, who commenced typing. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is my understanding that you have finished deliberating and are ready to render a decision.” Keyshia noticed the DA was jovial and alert and that Clyde's lawyer was much more somber. She suddenly remembered him mentioning to her that the longer a jury deliberated, the better the chance the defendant had.

She began to hyperventilate and suddenly got sick in the worst way. She felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the pit of her stomach as bitter foam rose in her throat. In an instant, she was on her feet, holding her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting on the floor and seats. Her prompt exit caused all eyes to shift in her direction, including the three court officers who now stood strategically behind Clyde and his lawyer. Clyde sat bewildered as he watched Keyshia's retreating back exit the courtroom.

Don't lose it now, Keyshia, he thought.

Keyshia rushed toward the bathroom, nearly knocking over several people in her way. She didn't make it as she threw up violently on the bathroom floor. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet bowl and prayed to God to take her out of her misery quickly.

Inside the courtroom, there was a deafening silence. Clyde scanned each juror's face and knew that it was truly about to go down. He cursed silently because a small part of him actually believed that he had a chance. He hated himself for believing such a notion, no matter how small the chance was. The time had come.

•                  •                  •

Get ready to die, was the thought that ran through Keyshia Simmons's mind as she stared into the smeared, tiny bathroom mirror in the federal courthouse building in lower Manhattan. Suddenly, she lost it again and ran to the nearest toilet stall where she fell to her knees and threw up violently. It took a full two minutes for her to gain her composure and get back to her feet. She had to—time was running out.

Unsteadily, she walked to the sink, cupped a handful of water, and splashed it over her face and into her mouth. Never in the past, it seemed, had she appreciated the vibrancy of cold water soothing her skin the way it did now. Life, it seemed, had new meaning, a new zest, a new zeal. But Keyshia knew it would only be short-lived. The beginning of the end was near, and she knew it.

She took a breath, looked down, and rubbed her growing stomach. All at once, her pitiful life seemed to flash before her eyes—she grew angry. But as suddenly as the anger came, it disappeared as she thought about the time she'd had with her man, Clyde Barker. She loved Clyde more than life itself, because he told her she was beautiful when she couldn't see beauty in herself. She loved him because he had taught her how to love herself when she never knew how. She loved him because through him, she now knew what true love really was, what it felt like to be loved and needed. They had made a promise that they would die together, and today that's exactly what it was coming to.

Using her sleeve, she wiped the remaining perspiration and water from her puffy eyes and forehead, exhaled deeply, and repeated, only this time out loud:

“Get ready to die.”

The courtroom was just outside the bathroom door. Once again, and for the hundredth time, it seemed, she tapped both weapons, fully loaded Tech 9's, which were strapped securely on each side of her ribs. The only things that kept her from reuniting with her man were three court officers, three guns, and opportunity. The odds didn't matter today. What did matter was getting her man out or dying in the process. Twelve jurors, one judge, and half a chance didn't equal favorable odds. So she was ready.

She glanced at her watch—time was up, and she suddenly felt dizzy. She used the sink for support to brace herself. She took a deep, deep breath and paused. She had to clear everything out of her mind for the mission at hand. She began to think optimistically that if things worked out, they could slip out of the courtroom, be lost in all the panic that was sure to come. They might even be able to pull it off. However, playing devil's advocate, she ultimately knew that if she had to go out down and dirty, so be it.