Nobody's Son (7 page)

Semaj's cell phone began vibrating on the table. He checked the caller ID and saw his cousin's name. “Do you mind if I answer that?” he asked.

“Go ahead, I'm done eating so I'm just going to throw these containers away and straighten up the kitchen.”

Semaj picked up the phone and walked down the hallway into his bedroom. “Hey, man, what's up?” he asked.

“It's not Christmas or your birthday, but I'm your fairy godfather,” Rip answered. “Your wish is my command.”

“You're my
what?
”

Rip began to sing loudly off-key. “
When you wish upon a star, makes no difference what you are, up above the world so high
. . .” He suddenly stopped. “Wait a minute, that's not right,” he said and laughed loudly.

Semaj began laughing hysterically as well. He didn't quite understand, but his cousin's singing was so bad it cracked him up. When the laughing finally died down Semaj decided to ask him again what he was talking about. “So you say you are a fairy and you like to sing too?” he joked.

“I'm not Tinker Bell, but I can grant wishes and with my help, your wish is about to come true.”

“What are you talking about? What wish?”

“Do you remember when we were in South Carolina last week and you said that you wished you could have a few minutes alone with that jerk Wayne James?”

Semaj closed his bedroom door to make sure that Ellen would not overhear their conversation. “Of course, I remember. You didn't call him, did you? I told you that I didn't want to have anything to do with that guy.”

“Man, you haven't heard the latest. I talked to Gwen, and she said that he told her that you were a big fat liar. He told her that there was no way you could be his son because his son is dead. He told Gwen you were a con artist after his money. Can you believe that crap?”

“He said his son is dead? Are you sure about that?”

“Of course, I'm sure. He even showed Gwen some phony newspaper clipping with a fake headline saying that his son died in the fire with his wife. Then he told Gwen not to tell anybody about you or their conversation, but you know me. I coaxed it out of her. As if it wasn't bad enough that he lied to your face, now he's telling lies on you behind your back. That's the last straw. Don't worry about the details. Just know that your cousin is going to make sure that you get your wish.”

Suddenly realizing exactly what he meant, Semaj slowly sat down on his bed. “Rip, you are on probation, man. You can't risk your freedom for me. Whatever you are thinking about, just forget it.”

“I can't forget it. This guy treated you like gutter trash, and that is unacceptable. Besides, I wouldn't even have my freedom if it wasn't for you. I owe you, Semaj, and you know that I always pay my debts.”

The sound of Ellen knocking at the door distracted Semaj momentarily from the conversation. “Yeah, honey, what is it?” he called out.

“Do you want some ice cream? I was just about to fix some for myself.”

“No, I'm good.”

Before speaking again he waited until he heard her footsteps return to the kitchen. When he heard the refrigerator door opening he returned to the conversation. “Rip, listen, I appreciate what you want to do, but this is not the way. Wayne James is just not worth it.” Semaj paused and waited for an answer. “Rip, are you there?” He repeated his name several more times, but he knew it was no use. His cousin had already hung up.

“Don't stop him. Revenge is sweet
,
”
a voice said. Semaj looked to his left and just like in the movies he could've sworn he saw a miniature replica of himself in a red suit with horns and a tail sitting on his shoulder. The little devil spoke again.
“Wayne James treated you like crap. All you wanted was to know him. You didn't deserve to be treated that way.”

Semaj nodded his head in agreement. “You're right. He deserves whatever Rip is planning to do to him. Why should I care?”

“He's your father. You have to forgive him,”
another voice said.

Semaj looked to his right and saw another tiny version of himself. This one was dressed all in white with a golden halo. For a few moments he wondered if he was freaking out as he watched the two arguing back and forth. The devil pointed out once again how badly Semaj had been treated by his father, while the little angel pleaded with Semaj to turn the other cheek. Finally unable to listen to the debate any longer, Semaj reached up and smacked the little angel off of his shoulder. He watched in silence as he vividly tumbled to the floor and landed with a loud thud. Stepping over him, Semaj opened his bedroom door and returned to the living room.

“Hey, Ellen, I've changed my mind. I think I will have some ice cream after all.”

Rip gulped down the last swallow of his third Red Bull, then threw the can out of the window of the van. A part of him was afraid of what he was about to do, but another part believed that it was the only thing that he could do.

For most of his adult life, Rip had lived and breathed crime. Every thought, word, or deed that he committed was the result of trying to get over and find the easiest way to get paid, regardless of the legalities of the activity. The only law or code that he lived by was the code of the streets, and that code dictated that he could not allow Wayne to get away with disrespecting Semaj.

Rip's first brush with the law occurred when he was only fourteen years old. He and Semaj had walked to the corner store to buy snacks while on summer vacation. Semaj's grandparents were considered to be one of the more well-to-do families in the neighborhood, and they always made sure that he had pocket money. Rip, on the other hand, lived with his elderly aunt whose only source of income was welfare, food stamps, and anything she could beg from social services, the community food bank, or her family members.

The two of them went inside the store, and Semaj picked out a Pepsi from the cooler and a bag of potato chips and a MoonPie off the shelf. Then he went to the counter to pay. Rip followed him and picked up the same items. While the clerk was distracted with ringing up Semaj's purchases, Rip had shoved all of his items into his backpack, and then he tried to run out of the store. Unfortunately, the store owner's wife had seen everything, and she used a broom to trip him up just as he reached the front door. He fell headfirst to the ground, and everything he'd stolen went tumbling down with him. It was only petty theft, but the racist judge that Rip stood before in the backwoods town of Andrus, South Carolina, sentenced him to two years in a juvenile detention facility.

Bad behavior, a bad attitude, and an assault on another inmate resulted in Rip spending the remainder of his teen years behind bars. He was released three days after his eighteenth birthday. His aunt Jenn that had raised him allowed him to stay with her for a few months, but working a regular job in the slow Southern town did not appeal to him. He contacted Semaj in Atlanta and asked if he could join him.

The two cousins shared a small apartment in the SWATS area of Atlanta. Semaj spent his days going to classes at Morris Brown College and his nights working various odd jobs to make ends meet. Rip spent his days sleeping and his nights hustling, robbing, and finding new and inventive ways to con people out of their hard earned money. By the time Semaj had graduated from college and began working for the local TV station as a field reporter, Rip had built a small drug empire. He loved his cousin, but he also realized that their lives were going in vastly different directions. Partly for Semaj's protection and also partly for the convenience of his business, Rip moved out of their apartment after paying one of his many female companions to rent an apartment for him in Sand Poole Manor. Throughout the years, he kept in contact with his cousin, while also keeping a safe distance.

Rip was born a pudgy baby that grew into chubby child, a fat teen, and then a morbidly obese man. Although he rarely saw a doctor or stood on a calibrated scale, Rip was sure that his weight ballooned to well over 400 pounds at one point. During this time, he'd begun to rule his empire at Sand Poole from the comfort and security of his apartment. He believed that he had enough cops on his payroll to ensure that he and anyone who worked for him was safe from prosecution, and for a very long time he lived with a false sense of happiness.

The people who were Rip's customers and associates would probably explain what happened in his life next as fate, or maybe even Karma, but Rip knew in his heart that it was nothing but God. One night as Rip was lounging in his bed alone watching his favorite movie
Scarface
, a swarm of DEA agents kicked in his front door. Rip reached for the 9 mm gun that he kept under his mattress, but it was too late. The agents began firing rounds, and Rip was hit twelve times. Many were just superficial wounds, but the most crucial bullet lodged in his spine as he tried to turn to get away. Rip woke up a week later unable to feel his legs with a DEA agent standing over his bed asking questions. A few feet away from the bed Rip saw his cousin Semaj and his aunt Jenn with tears streaming down her face.

Up until that point, Rip couldn't remember ever praying in his entire life. He'd been brought up in a Christian home, but he'd never accepted the prayers or the faith that his aunt possessed. Yet at that moment in time, Rip instinctively knew that he'd reach the point of no return. Ignoring the agent and his questions, he closed his eyes and prayed.

“God, I can't feel my legs. I know that after the things I've done and said I don't deserve to ask you for anything. I'm not worthy of your love, but I can feel it all over me. Lord, I swear to you, if you let me walk again, I will turn my life around and never commit another crime. I will tell this agent everything that he wants to know, and even if I end up walking around a prison yard, I am pleading with you to please, just let me walk again.”

When he was done praying Rip lapsed into unconsciousness again. He awoke several days later, and although he still could not feel his legs, he had faith that as long as he kept his promise, God would heal him. The first step in that promise was speaking to the DEA agents regarding his business. Due to his physical condition and Semaj's uptown attorney's influence, the agent offered him a deal. Rip turned state's evidence and completely avoided doing any jail time. Instead, he received a suspended sentence of ten years, along with six years probation in exchange for his testimony. Fourteen months and five surgeries later, he took his first footstep, and many others followed after that. He spent another six months doing rehab and almost two years after the incident he was finally able to walk out of the hospital over 150 pounds lighter.

He returned to Sand Poole Manor, but he no longer had a three-bedroom pimped out luxury apartment. Instead, he rented a modest one-bedroom apartment that he was able to pay for with the money he received from disability payments. He wasn't the king anymore, but he still commanded a huge amount of respect from his neighbors and friends. With Semaj's assistance, he'd enrolled in classes online and was looking forward to earning a degree in computer science. He attended church regularly and truly felt that he'd kept his promise to God. He was a changed man, and there was no temptation for him to go back to his former life.

That was, until Wayne James had entered the picture and totally disrespected the one person who meant more to Rip than anyone else in the world. He knew he'd never break the law again for money, but this was a matter of honor. He had no intention of harming Wayne, but he was determined to make sure that he took time out of his busy celebrity schedule to listen to whatever his cousin felt the need to say.

Matters of the heart were foreign to Rip. Due to his lifestyle, he'd never had one steady girlfriend. He instead usually kept a stable of lovelies that he could call on at any time. Since he'd first seen her wide hips wiggling across the courtyard at Sand Poole Manor, Gwen had found her way to the top of his long list of conquests. Rip really liked her, but in order to accomplish his task, he'd had to resort to manipulating her for information. It wasn't difficult because Gwen loved to talk, and no subject was off-limits when her tongue began to wag, but he still felt a twinge of guilt for using her.

Currently, he was sitting in a borrowed utility van outside of the condo Gwen had told him that Wayne rented for the duration of his stay in Atlanta. He'd chosen to leave the hotel when he realized that instead of being in town for three weeks, he'd probably be there for three months. He'd signed a short-term lease on a furnished condo and leased a new Cadillac to drive around the city in. Gwen had also been forthcoming with his full schedule as well as that of Doug's. Gwen's gossipy nature was the final piece to the puzzle. It allowed Rip the opportunity to strike when Wayne was alone and vulnerable. Now it was just a matter of time before he would descend the stairs and Rip's plan would commence.

Two hours later, Rip removed the blindfold that had been surrounding Wayne's face and blocking his vision. He was seated in a hard wooden chair, his hands were bound behind his back, and his feet were tied tightly to the chair legs. After untying the blindfold, Rip bent down and reached for the ropes, and then he tightened them, making sure that Wayne could barely move.

“Who are you, and what do you want from me?” Wayne screamed into the darkness. Rip refused to answer, and Wayne's voice echoed, then faded into silence.

Rip wanted to make things as simple as possible, and for that reason, he had not spoken a word since he'd grabbed Wayne from behind just as he was exiting his condo. Wayne was about to get into his car when a gun was poked into his back. He calmly cooperated and offered his wallet to Rip, but he didn't want his money or Wayne's brand-new slate-blue Cadillac Escalade. He wanted Wayne, and he quickly blindfolded, bound, and gagged him, then threw him into the back of the utility van. They drove around for a while. Rip retraced his route several times, and he grappled with his conscience. At one point, he considered abandoning the whole plan and taking Wayne back, but he realized he was in too deep now and had to continue.

Finally, Rip pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse and stopped the van. He jumped out of the front seat and walked around the back to open the door. He reached in and grabbed his victim and dragged him forward with his arms pinned tightly behind his back. Rip grabbed the large sliding garage door, and it screeched loudly as it opened, and then he closed it behind them.

“I'm hungry. Aren't you at least going to feed me?” Wayne screamed.

“Later,” Rip answered in a gruff voice.

“Please, can I at least have some water? It's hot in here, and I'm thirsty.”

Without a word Rip kneeled down and opened a blue cooler he'd brought in and set on the warehouse floor. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of water, then he opened it as he walked toward Wayne. “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

Obediently, Wayne complied, and the cool liquid trickled into his mouth and down his throat. When he'd had enough, he turned his head to prevent Rip from pouring more in. “Thank you,” he said into the darkness.

“I need to go make a phone call. Make yourself comfortable, and I promise to bring you something to eat when I come back,” Rip said.

“Wait, don't go. Just tell me what you want with me. If it's money, I have at least four hundred in cash in my wallet, and I can get more.”

“I don't want your money, and I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax and sit tight. Everything will be clear to you very soon.”

Rip opened the garage door and left Wayne alone in the darkness. Once outside, he pulled out his cell phone and called Semaj.

“It's done,” he said as soon as Semaj picked up.

Semaj turned to Ellen who was seated beside him on the sofa. “I'll be right back, baby, this is a business call,” he lied. He walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, then walked down the stairs to the parking lot before speaking again to be sure that no one overheard him.

“I just got a call from the newsroom asking me to come in and cover a breaking news story regarding America's favorite TV dad, Wayne James, who was abducted from the parking lot of his condo. Please, Rip, tell me that you didn't have anything to do with that.”

“You know the answer to that question, man.”

Semaj sighed. “I do, but I was sincerely hoping that I was wrong. Kidnapping is a felony, Rip. If you're caught, it will violate your probation, and you will go to jail for a very long time. I appreciate your loyalty, but this was a mistake—a big, big mistake.”

“If anyone made a mistake it was Wayne James when he decided that he was too good to acknowledge you as his son. This creep adopted five orphans and gave them a beautiful home in the Hollywood Hills, lavished them with gifts, and they've enjoyed the kind of life most people only dream of. He's on television week after week spouting lines about fatherhood that the entire country imitates. This fool even has a book on the
New York Times
Bestsellers list called
The Joys of Fatherhood.
Gwen told me that he's in Atlanta now because Tyler Perry is interested in turning his books into a movie. Yet this poor excuse for a man couldn't take five minutes with his own seed? That's trifling.”

Semaj wanted to scream, “You're absolutely right” at the top of his lungs. Rip was saying the words that had tumbled around in his head ever since the day Gwen took him to Wayne's hotel. It just didn't make sense. Semaj admired Wayne James and had even once fantasized about having a father just like him. His grandfather had done the best that he could, but in his soul, Semaj longed for his dad. In his heart, he knew what Rip had done was five kinds of wrong, but he suddenly did not care.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” Semaj asked.

“Yeah, he's fine. I got him tied up in the warehouse where I used to keep my products back in the day. When I left he was whining about being hungry.”

“So he's all alone?”

“Yep, I was going to get him a sandwich or something.”

Semaj looked around the parking lot to be sure that no one was watching or listening to him. “All right, here's the plan. Take him a sandwich, feed him, then leave him there for the night. I've got to get to the station to cover the story, and I'll get back to you about our next move tomorrow.”

“So you're in with me?” Rip asked.

“I'm all in,” Semaj said.