Sweet 16 to Life (13 page)

W
hen MJ tears out of the mall parking lot, she doesn't go in the direction of Aurora Avenue, which I point out to her.

“That's because I need to visit someone first.”

“Not Lux.”

“Hell yeah, Lux.”

“This is a really bad idea, MJ. For one, I gotta believe it violates the conditions of your bail. For two, Lux is kinda scary.”

MJ looks over at me, a second too long considering the speed she's going, and says, “And I ain't?”

“Oh, no—you're really scary, especially right now when you're going sixty in a thirty-five, which I'm certain is another violation of your parole and bail.”

That gets her to slow down, but she still keeps driving toward Lux's place, which I see now isn't too far from the mall because we're turning into an apartment complex. MJ pulls in front of one of the buildings, parking in a numbered space. When I open my door to get out, she tells me to wait here, but she can barely get out of the car before some woman runs up on her. I get out, too.

“Look, heffa, you're in my parking space again,” the woman tells MJ. I don't know where this chick came from, but she must be like my neighbor Mrs. Jenkins, watching for people to park in her space just so she can run outside and go off on them. I don't think she just happened to be leaving her apartment when we arrived because she doesn't have a purse. According to Lana, the only women who don't carry some kind of bag are hookers and joggers, at least in her experience.

“It'll only be there for a second. My friend will move the car if you need the space,” MJ says, throwing me the keys as she continues toward the apartment building.

The parking space chick blocks MJ's path. Oh, that isn't good.

“That's not the point. The point is that's my space and I told you the last time that if you did it again, I was calling the police.”

“Excuse me, but the police wouldn't write a ticket for this, since you're on private property.” Both MJ and the pissed-off woman look at me like it's their first time seeing me. “Um, I'm just saying . . .”

“I ain't got time for this. Get the hell out of my way,” MJ says, shoving the woman. Okay,
now
the woman would have a reason to call the police since MJ's shove might be construed as assault. Time for me to do more than just cite the law.

“Hey now, MJ. This nice lady isn't who you're mad at,” I say, stepping between them. I doubt the lady is all that nice given the teardrop tattoo under her right eye.

“Like hell. I'm mad at her too, now.”

“Well, she isn't who you came to see. One issue at a time, right?”

“Yeah, you right. I need to stay focused so I can handle my business,” she says, leaving me and the angry woman on the sidewalk.

I get in the driver's side of the car and back out of the woman's space while she watches, hands on her hips and looking like she wants to hurt somebody. But by the time I parallel park the car in the fire lane right behind her parking space, the woman is gone. She's like a spy in stealth mode with all the sneaking up on you and sneaking away. I get out of the car to see where she could possibly have gone in five seconds.

That's when I hear all the yelling. I look up to see MJ outside Lux's apartment door and from what I can tell, it's Lux doing all the hysterical yelling. Maybe he isn't as tough as I thought, although MJ has more than a few pounds and inches on him. Then she throws him up against the wall, her right forearm rammed up against his chest and dangerously close to his windpipe. That's my cue to get up there before she commits about twenty violations against her parole and her bail.

I reach Lux's door just in time to hear MJ tell Lux, “I'm gonna kill you.” I drag her away before she can.

 

I'm surprised to find Lana in the kitchen when I get home. Hopefully she won't notice I'm still wound up from our visit to Lux's place. Even though I didn't actually fight anyone, I feel like I could have if anyone stepped to me. It's sort of the way I always want to fight someone whenever I leave a Jason Bourne movie. I feel like I'm a badass just from watching someone else be one.

“You're home early,” I say.

“I'm not really home yet. I was in the neighborhood running down a suspect and figured I'd grab some lunch—ham sandwiches. Want me to make you one?”

Speaking of badass. I know Lana's been a cop for a long time, but it never stops sounding weird to have your mother say stuff like that—
I was chasing a murderer, then thought I'd grab a sandwich
. Although in this case, it probably wasn't a murderer. Homicide arrests always require a boatload of paperwork and she probably wouldn't be home until the middle of the night if she'd gotten a lead on a killer this morning.

“That's okay. MJ and I just came back from Sonic.” No need to tell her what happened between the restaurant and home. “Kind of close to home to be making an arrest. What about your cover?”

“If I locate the guy, I'll have a uniform make the arrest. So how's MJ doing?”

“Um . . . she's dealing with it as best she can.”

“It's been crazy this morning, but when I go back to the department, I'll see if there have been any new developments on her case.”

I just hope any new developments don't include Lux charging MJ with assault, but I'm banking on the typical bad guy M.O.—that Lux has enough dirt to hide that he wouldn't willingly get the police involved in his life.

Lana finishes making her sandwich but doesn't bring it with her when she joins me at the kitchen table.

“Chanti, I really did hear what you said the other morning—that your father should know about you. You're completely right about that, and he will, just as soon as I've checked him out.”

“What is it you have to check? You're hiding something else, because I know you aren't this worried about a sixteen-year-old B and E charge.”

Lana stays quiet, which confirms my accusation, but I'm still in the dark.

“Okay, if you won't tell me that, I have another question about him, and it's pre-arrest so you should be able to tell me.”

“What is it?”

“The few times you ever talked about him, you said it was just a one-time thing, that he was just someone you met at a spring break party and that you barely knew him.”

“Right” is all she says, but I read more in the way her body language changes. The story isn't “right” at all.

“First off, that so isn't you—meeting a guy at a party, hooking up with him like that. Even before you became a cop and trusted no one, that just isn't you.”

“I was a girl, not the person you know now. You're going to be a whole different person when you're my age. You'll see.”

“No, I don't think so, but let's say I give you the benefit of the doubt. We assume he doesn't know I exist, or if he does know you have a kid, that he doesn't know I'm his.”

“So?”

“So why is he is he trying to contact you? Why is he so persistent? I may not know much about boys, but I do know there probably isn't a guy on the planet who will track down some random girl he hooked up with at a party sixteen years ago. Most guys would have forgotten you the minute he told his boys about you the next day at school and began his search for the next hook-up.”

“Right.”

“Would you please stop saying
right
and tell me something real, like if he was just some guy, why were you there when he was arrested? Or did that happen the same night y'all made me? Because that must have been one helluva night,” I say, not realizing my voice has gotten louder or that I'm growing as upset as I was when she first admitted my father doesn't know I exist.

“I did meet him at a party. That part wasn't a lie, and neither was the part about our being together for a short time. But it was for more than one night, and I fell hard for him. It was mutual.”

“So what happened?”

“A couple of months after we met, I found out about you and I was going to tell him. Then he was arrested and I never got the chance. It wasn't like I was going to marry him. I was so young, I wanted to go to college.... Seeing him being put into a squad car just made it easier not to tell him.”

“I thought you fell hard for him.”

“I did, but by the time he was sentenced I realized I was just infatuated. I'm sure that's all it was for him, too.”

“I want to know him, Mom. I want him to know me,” I say before I leave her and go to my room. I have more questions, but none that Lana can answer, like why he's trying to contact us after all this time. To be honest, I didn't spend much time thinking of my father until he resurfaced, and when I did, I spent it angry at him for not giving a damn. Now that I know Lana never even told him about me, I'm not sure what to replace the anger with. So far, the only thing I've come up with is curiosity—nothing more or less than that. But at least I'm not mad at him anymore.

M
y conversation with Lana yesterday gave me few answers, but she promised to discover what happened to my father after he went to jail. That gave me an idea of a way to get more information about Tragic's arrest than what MJ has been able to tell me, which is why I'm meeting Michelle in her driveway this morning. I find Tasha there instead, leaning against Michelle's father's car.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “I mean, not that I'm not glad to see you. Just didn't expect you.”

“Don't even. I know all about what you're up to and I'm going on this little field trip with you and Michelle—for guidance and moral support. I think it's crazy, but y'all need at least one sane person along for the ride.”

“Whatever, but I hope Michelle isn't running late.”

“Please. She's been talking about this trip since the minute she got off the phone with you yesterday and called to tell me about it. What I'm trying to figure out is what's in it for you.”

I ignore Tasha's question posed in the form of a statement. “You wouldn't think she'd be all that excited, especially since she kept telling me how I'll owe her big for this. And can either of y'all keep quiet about anything?”

“Chanti, you know I can keep a secret as long as you
tell
me it's a secret,” Tasha says, which is true, though I don't think I should have to start every conversation with her by saying what she can and can't repeat. “Now Michelle—that's another story. Don't ever tell her anything you don't want someone else to know, whether you warn her it's a secret or not.”

“Okay, so where is she? I wanted to be on the road by ten.”

“She forgot something and had to run back in the house.”

We finally get on the road by ten, although we are still almost late getting there. Apparently Tasha really does think that a visit to the state penitentiary is an actual field trip because she makes Michelle stop twice during the two-hour drive, once for burgers and the second time for a dipped cone at Dairy Queen. I have to admit I am glad for the DQ stop. It's a cold day, but I won't ever turn down a Blizzard.

When we finally arrive in Cañon City, Michele reminds me for the hundredth time that I'll owe her.

“And this will take more than a box of cupcakes. I mean, I still want the cupcakes, but I'm gonna need more.”

“All right, Michelle,” I agree.“Just get me inside and we'll talk about payment later, okay?”

“So this is really
your
visit?” Tasha says to me. “You'd better tell me what's up, Chanti, or your mama's gonna hear about this little trip.”

“I just need to talk to Donnell for a minute, that's all.”

“You need to talk to the dude who planned to kill you?”

“Yeah, I, um . . . I need some closure so I can move past that. I still dream about him holding that gun on me,” I say, hoping to really sell it so she'll leave me alone about it.

“Seeing the guy that held the gun on you will give you closure?” Tasha asks, clearly not buying.

“That's right. I saw it on
Dr. Phil
.”

Once we're in the visitors' area, Michelle takes us through the process like a pro. The guard at the desk even knows her by name and throws her some game and of course, she flirts back. I guess she didn't get over Donnell until recently because it's clear she's visited him before.

“How often do you come down here?” I ask when we all take a seat in the waiting area.

“I've been a few times.”

“And your parents let you?” Tasha asks. “I can't see the reverend giving you the okay on none of this right here. What lie do you tell him to get the car?”

“Daddy trusts me, I don't need to lie. But it makes him feel better if I do, so he thinks I'm in Colorado Springs attending a one-day youth church camp. That way if he checks the odometer, it looks right. I learned that from Chanti.”

“Both your mothers must be so proud,” Tasha says.

We only have to wait a couple of minutes before Michelle's name is called, but she doesn't get up to join me.

“Aren't you going in there with me?”

“I told you, I'm over Donnell. No need to bring up ancient history. I did what you wanted and got you in, right?”

“Yeah, but he's going to be a little disappointed when I show up instead of you.”

“All the more reason for me to stay right here with Tasha, especially after you give him this,” she says, handing me an envelope.

“What is it?”

“A Dear Donnell letter. It's okay—the guards already inspected it. Give him that and buy me a box of cupcakes and we'll be even.”

“You only agreed to this so I can break up with him for you?”

“And can you believe I almost left the letter in the house?”

“I don't think Donnell's going to be very helpful after he's been dumped.”

“That's why you give it to him at the end,” she says as I walk off like I'm about to become a prisoner, not visit one. “And don't be all day. I want to stop by the outlet mall on the way home.”

I almost feel bad disappointing Donnell—he looks so happy and expectant when I see him through the window of the door to the visitors' room—except he once wanted to kill me so I get over it. His look goes from confusion to anger once he sees it's me and not Michelle. It makes me sorry the visiting room is just tables, chairs, and a few guards instead of those little rooms with bullet-proof glass separating prisoner from visitor and two telephones like you see on TV.

“What the hell you doing here?” Donnell asks.

“Um, Michelle says hi, but didn't really want to come in. She thought it was best if you both moved on,” I say, forgetting Michelle's advice about saving that information for the end of the visit. Fear will make you forgetful.

“So she sent you instead? She gotta know you the last person I want to see.”

“The feeling is mutual, Donnell. You were going to kill me, remember? And we used to play dodge ball together.” Although that may explain why it always seemed he threw the ball harder at me than anyone else. Maybe he hated me then, too.

“Wasn't nobody gonna kill you.”

“No, I remember exactly—you said I was expendable.”

“Oh that. I was just talking,” he says, like he'd been talking smack about beating me in a game of H-O-R-S-E, which we also used to play together back in the day before he became a felon. “I guess any visitor is better than none. What you want, anyway? I'm pretty sure this ain't a social call.”

“I'm surprised you're here in fed lock-up already. That whole situation where you were ‘just talking' about me being expendable was barely three months ago.”

“I took a plea. I still got a five-year run, but it's hella better than eleven. I'll be twenty-three when I get out.”

And hopefully I'll be in another time zone by then, but I keep that to myself. In fact, I don't say anything at all because even though we grew up together, we're not sitting across a playground picnic table from each other.

“Whatchu want, girl? I know you ain't here to check on my welfare.”

“Right, okay. MJ is in trouble,” I say, hoping he never suspected she was the one who told Lana he was after me. I watch his face closely and see no flash of anger in it.

“What's up with MJ?”

“She was arrested for drug and weapon possession.”

“Damn. That's her probation right there.”

“Yeah, except I think she was set up.”

“By who?”

“Dude named Lux.”

Donnell's expression changes to exactly what I was half-expecting when I mentioned MJ's name. Apparently Lux has also pissed off Donnell once or twice.

“What's that mofo doing back in town?”

“Extorting MJ, and now setting her up for a drug and weapons charge, for some reason. If you could answer a couple of questions, I might be able to help her.”

“Chanti, you sound just like a cop. Still playing detective?”

“I just want to help my friend.”

“All right. I like MJ, and I'll do whatever I can to get Lux a room here at the inn. Maybe we'll even get adjoining cells. Then I can give him a beatdown whenever I'm feeling bored, which is every damn day. I believe that snitch set me up, too. How else would the cops know to find me at that house?”

That would be MJ's doing, but Donnell never needs to know. Besides, who's to say Lux wouldn't have tried to set him up eventually? Seems like that might be Lux's thing. That and arson.

“Lux ain't to be trusted. MJ hooked me up with him this past summer. I introduced him to some local meth cooks. His boss had a meth operation going in L.A. and he wanted to branch out here. I was supposed get him connected to some buyers in Denver.”

“Buyers of meth?”

“Lux never said specifically, could be meth, could be copper wire, you never know. Gangsters don't tend to specialize. If there's loot to be sold and a market for it, we—I mean
they
—find a way to sell it. So I set up this meet between Lux and some locals, but he didn't want me to go. I figured then he might do me some double-cross. Should have trusted my instincts. Afterward, Lux asks if I'm trying to set
him
up because he recognized one of the locals as a cop who arrested him when he was sixteen and still lived in Denver. Got him some time in JD.”

“He remembered a cop from what . . . four or five years ago?”

“You never forget your arresting officer. Never know when you'll get a chance for payback. So like you said, it's been four or five years and I guess by the time the deal I set up went down, she was undercover—”

“She?”

“Yeah, Lux said it was lady cop. She was cute, easy to remember. Anyway, he comes up with this idea to take out his boss 'cause he wants to take over the Down Homes, and promises to give me the Denver operation they were starting up.”

“So you were in on the setup of his boss,” I say, not trying to remind Donnell that makes him a double-crosser, too, but to make sure I have the story straight. He takes offense anyway.

“Chanti, I'm a businessman. I had to seize the opportunity.”

“I believe it, Donnell. So then what happened?”

“He never gave me any details, he just told me to find a reason not to go to meet with him and his boss.”

“What's the boss's name?”

“I don't know, Chanti. That's serious, wanting me to give names and everything.”

“If it's who I suspect, he's locked away in a federal prison.”

“That won't stop him from hurting me.”

“But I thought you
really
wanted to see Lux in here with you, to be a source of daily entertainment.”

“Can't give a beatdown from the grave.”

I take another approach. “Is his name Tragic?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

Good, we're talking about all the same people.

“Turns out Lux didn't go on the meet, either,” Donnell continues. “Like I said, I didn't get the details, but I know for a fact whatever the boss expected to find when he opened that briefcase, it wasn't cop-killers.”

“You mean the bullets, right?”

“Right, and he had plenty of them, too, enough to make the police think he was planning to sell them. Lux threw some drugs in there for extra measure, but that was just a waste of good drugs. Once Five-O saw the cop-killers, they tuned him up right there, before they took him in. Messed up his left eye so bad he can't see out of it no more. At least that's what I heard.”

Yeah, I imagine finding a guy about to sell illegal cop-killers on the street is the kind of thing that will make even a by-the-book cop give a tune-up. That's a beatdown, to you and me.

“So you never knew what was supposed to be in the briefcase?” I asked, although I already know.

“Nah, never did. But later, when I got word what was actually in there, I was shocked.”

“Why?”

“'Cause Tragic made it a point not to mess around with weapons. He told me so when he asked me to start up his Denver operation. Get picked up for drugs and what not, you don't do a lot of time if you got a good lawyer. Weapons is a whole 'nother story. And cop-killers? No way did Tragic think those were in that case.”

“So Lux got away with it.”

“For a while, anyway. He went back to L.A. and tried to take over the Down Homes, telling the gang he knew all Tragic's expansion plans and how to carry them out, that he'd become the boss's right-hand man while they were working together in Denver.”

“That was a pretty quick bonding experience,” I say, remembering what MJ told me about Lux not even being a tenth man.

“Yeah, that's what the Down Homes eventually thought. Once they figured out they were being played, they made it so Lux had to get out of L.A. quick if he was concerned about his health.”

The guard announces that visiting time is up, which is perfect timing. I won't have to figure out how to say bye to a guy I played with as a kid who is now a state-pen convict I hope never to see again.

Before Donnell is led away by the guard, I thank him for his help and hand him the letter I almost forgot I was holding. Donnell takes it from me. He must recognize her handwriting on the envelope because he doesn't ask me what it is, only says, “Tell Michelle she ain't right.”

I promise him I will.