Beneath The Surface (35 page)

“No, you don’t have any picture.” Redding stood up. “As I said, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Ms. Taylor.” Redding came around his desk and stood over Carmen. “So if there’s nothing else,” he said and motioned toward the door. “Besides, Geoffrey is dead and you can’t prove a word of what he told you.”

Carmen got up and walked slowly toward the door, which the congressman gladly opened for her. When she came out of the office agents of the FBI were waiting to take him into custody.

Meka spent the day on the phone at her office, trying to come up with at least some of the money she needed to give Cerrone. So far, her efforts had not been successful. It was getting late in the day and she was running out of options, fast. The way Meka saw it, she had three choices. She could ask Leon to lend her the money. After all, it was sort of his fault she was in this mess.

If she hadn’t been doing this business for Leon, she would have never had to reach out to the people he used to do business with, to set it up. Meka was sure that one of them had told Cerrone where to find her. If she only knew which one it was.

Truth was, she could have told Leon no. But because of her financial situation, Meka made a decision. This was the consequence of that decision.

Her second choice was to skim the money off the few accounts that she did have. That included Leon’s money. But then she remembered that it was her skimming Cerrone’s accounts that got her into this situation. The last thing she needed was to get Cerrone off her neck, only to have the same problem with Leon. Not to mention, what that would do to her business with Black.

“Black,” Meka said flipping through her rolodex. She thought that if she could explain things to Black that he would understand and take Cerrone off her back. She found the number she was looking for, and dialed it.

“Hello.”

“Mike Black, please.”

“Who is this?”

“Meka Brazil.

“Mr. Black isn’t available. This is Victor. Mr. Black mentioned you. I don’t know when I’m gonna see him, but I’ll tell him you called.”

“Please do, Victor. Tell him that it’s very important that I talk to him as soon as possible,” Meka said, and felt a sense of relief. She would talk to Black and he would help her.

Since Meka knew that it would come around to her eventually, she started to call Wanda. After dialing the number, Meka hung up the phone. Meka just didn’t feel like going into it with Wanda. Better if Black just told her to do it.

Meka got her things together and got ready to go home for the evening. On her way out, Meka thought that if things didn’t work out with Black, and she was pretty sure that they would, she would still have her third option. When Cerrone got to her apartment the next day, she would be ready for him. Her gun wouldn’t be in a shoebox in the closet, and she would kill him.

But that was a worry for another day. That night, she would relax and try to forget about what had taken place the night before. Meka had never been so scared in her life. She was sure that Cerrone was going to kill her. Although she hated every second of it, Meka was glad that she gave in to him when he forced himself on her. It may have been what saved her life.

On her way home, Meka decided that she needed a drink so she stopped at the ESPN Zone. The Marlins were in town playing the Mets. Meka would have a couple of drinks, watch a couple of innings, and then call it a night.

When Meka got to her apartment, she turned on the lights and looked at the mess. She shook her head and decided that she would get around to cleaning up after all this was over. She went in the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine, and headed for the bedroom.

Meka turned on the light in the bedroom and was surprised to see Cerrone lying naked on her bed. “Hello, Meka,” he said, and Meka’s eyes cut immediately to the gun lying next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Meka said, putting down her glass.

“What you think I’m doin’ here? I came for my money. You got it?”

“You said I had two days to get it.” Meka started moving toward the closet.

“
You givin’
me somethin’.”

“I don’t have it yet, but I’ll have it tomorrow,” Meka promised, hoping that he would leave.

“I guess I have to settle for some more of that pussy. ’Cause that pussy, and everything else you got, is mine until I get my fuckin’ money. Now come up outta them clothes and come here.”

Meka took a deep breath and began moving slowly toward the bed. She was startled by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Meka took out her phone and looked at the display. It was Black calling. “I need to take this call.”

“No, you don’t.” Cerrone picked up his gun and pointed it at Meka. “Now I told you to take off that fuckin’ dress and bring the pussy here.” He began stroking himself. “Come here and suck this dick.”

Meka walked to the bedroom and started to sit down.

“Get down on your knees and suck this dick.”

Meka got down on her knees, closed her eyes, and did what she was told; what she had to do to stay alive. If only Black had called her just a little earlier, maybe she wouldn’t be on her knees.

Cerrone grabbed her hair and put the barrel to her temple. “Stop fuckin’ around and suck this dick, before I put one in that pretty head.”

It disgusted her, but Meka did her work. Cerrone moved the gun away from her head and let go of her hair. Meka got up and started to get undressed. She let her dress drop to the floor, and then she started walking toward the closet.

“Where you think you goin’? I ain’t done with you,” Cerrone said and pointed the gun at Meka.

“I’m going to put on something special for you,” Meka said and kept walking toward the closet. “You don’t need that gun. I told you, it ain’t got to be like that.”

“Hurry up,” Cerrone said. He put the gun down and leaned back as Meka disappeared into the closet. She shut the door and leaned against it. She felt her stomach turn and fought the urge to throw up.
 
She pulled herself off the door and went for her shoebox. She got the box down from the shelf and took the shoes out.

“What’s takin’ you so fuckin’
long!
” Cerrone yelled.

“I’m coming, right now!” Meka yelled back. She put the gun in her thong behind her. She put on the first teddy she got her hands on and headed out the door.

“’Bout fuckin’ time. I was ’bout to come in there and get that ass,” Cerrone said when heard the door open. Then he looked at Meka as she walked slowly toward him. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. You
is
one fine-ass mutha fucka, you know that, Meka?” he said and began stroking himself again.

Meka didn’t say anything. She just kept walking toward him with her eyes focused on his gun. Meka reached the bed, took the gun from behind her back, and pointed it at Cerrone.

“What you doin’?” Cerrone said and reached for his gun.

Meka closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

When Meka opened her eyes, she had fired three times: two to his chest, and one in his groin. She stood there for a while holding the gun and looking at Cerrone’s body. She was startled when she heard her cell phone ringing. Meka turned away from his body and went to get her phone. “Hello.”

“Hey, Meka, it’s Mike.”

Meka didn’t say anything.

“Meka,” Black said. “Meka, you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Victor said you needed to talk to me.”

“Yes,” Meka said slowly, and looked over at the bed. “Yes, I need to talk to you.”

“Are you all right, Meka? Do you need me to come over there?”

“No,” Meka said quickly. “No. I need to get outta here.”

“I’m at the Famous Oyster Bar.”

“I know where that is.”

“Why don’t you meet me here and we can talk,” Black suggested.

“Good. That’s good. I’ll put some clothes on and meet you there,” Meka said and ended the called.

A half an hour later, Meka walked into the Famous Oyster Bar and looked around for Black. She saw him at a table in the back and went to him. When Victor saw her coming, he got up and sat down at the bar.

Black could tell the second that Meka sat down, that something was wrong with her. He signaled for a waitress. “Can I get you a drink? You look like you could use one.”

“Tanqueray and tonic. Make it a double.”

“So wrong’s, Meka?” Black said as the waitress left the table.

Meka leaned forward. “I killed somebody tonight,” she said softly.

“How’d you kill them?”

“I shot him.”

“Where’s the gun?”

“In my apartment.”

“That where the body is?”

“Yes.”

Black motioned for Victor. When Victor came, he told him where Meka lived, and who to call to clean up. “Okay, Meka. Who’d you kill?”

“Cerrone Merkerson.”

“The guy you used to work for in Miami?”

“You know about that?”

“I make it my business to know who I’m in business with. You sure he’s dead?”

“I didn’t check for a pulse, if that’s what you mean. But I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

“Go back to your apartment. Two men are coming. Let them in and leave. Go stay with a friend tonight.”

“Okay. I know somebody I could stay with.”

“Tomorrow morning you go to the airport, to Delta. There’ll be a ticket waiting for you to Nassau. When you get there, go to Atlantis, there’ll be a suite waiting for you.”

“What then?”

“Relax and have some fun. Do some shopping. Hit the spa. Charge it to the room. You got any money?”

“No.”

Black reached in his pocket and took out some money. He
counted off ten bills and handed them to Meka. “That’s a grand. It should cover anything you can’t charge to the room.”

Meka took the money.

“Like I said: Relax, have some fun. I’ll be there in a couple of days and we’ll talk about this then. Right now, there’s somebody I need to see.”

Carmen told Dan, her managing editor, about what she knew and could prove about Terrance Redding, and about the suicide of Geoffrey Canfield. He told her that she couldn’t report anything that
Canfield told her about their alleged involvement with Tangela
House or her alleged blackmail scheme, because it could not be corroborated. “You can report on the suicide, and Redding’s arrest on the bribery charges, but that’s it,” Dan informed her.

“He was counting on that,” Carmen said, but she was glad that he was going to allow her to do the story.

Dan got up and started to leave, and then he turned and looked at Carmen. “Good work, Carmen. Damn good piece of reporting,” he said as he walked out of the room shaking his head.

That night at six and 11, Carmen’s investigative report ran. After which, Carmen still was left to wonder how, if at all, she could prove that Redding was involved in, if not responsible for, the death of Tangela House.