Chapter Twelve
Idalis
The club hadn't started picking up and I was actually happy about that because I didn't plan on staying long. My head was pounding and I hadn't had a good night's sleep since I talked to Trip a few nights ago. I felt heavy and worn.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar. My long hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail and I barely put on any makeup. In my opinion I looked the way I felt, tired.
“You a'ight, girl?”
I looked in Dionne's direction. She was placing orders on a tray. “Yeah, I'm good.”
“You seem preoccupied. What's on your mind?”
I smiled. “Okay, let's skip the cliché âbartender who doubles as a psychologist' role?”
“Oh, you got jokes,” she laughed. “What's going on with you?”
“Just got a lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?”
I twisted the top off a bottle of water. “Only if you can tell me how to make the skeletons in my closet stop rattling.”
She gave me a look that let me know she understood but had no answers for me. I gave a half-hearted smile and headed toward the back office.
Linc had been scarce the past few days. He kept telling me he was spending so much time away from home because of the case. Part of me believed him and the other part didn't care. I had learned over the years not to ask too much about his cases because all he would ever tell me was he didn't like bringing his work home.
Funny, how quickly things had changed.
I stopped by the table where Mr. Lewis was sitting and asked if he was okay.
“Yes, I'm fine, but you look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
I forced a smile. “I'm good. I just wanted to stop by and check on you.”
I turned to walk away and he stopped me.
“Miss Idalis.”
I turned around. “Yes, sweetie?”
“You look down. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I'm fine, Mr. Lewis.”
“Nothing is worth your happiness. Get rid of it before it eats you up inside.”
That statement got my attention, especially coming from him. I started to ask him where it came from when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“How long you been here?”
I turned to face Lincoln.
“I came in around six,” I answered.
He was still in his Kevlar vest which meant he was still working. He looked at Mr. Lewis and smiled. “You tryin' to take my woman?”
Mr. Lewis gave a hearty laugh. “No, young blood, but I wouldn't mind if you let me borrow her.”
“How much money you got?” Linc laughed.
My eyes met Mr. Lewis's and he gave me a gentle, caring smile before he spoke. “Officer, Miss Idalis is priceless.”
Lincoln's smile faded and he looked at me. “Everyone has a price. Even Miss Idalis.”
My face grew hot as he nudged me toward the office.
He was silent until we were isolated behind the wooden door.
“So what you been up to, Idalis?” He sat down on the edge of the desk.
I leaned against the door. “Working. Taking care of our son. Planning a wedding. If you were at home, you'd know that.”
“You know I been workin' this case. How'd your appointment go at the dress shop?”
That question wouldn't have bothered me so much if I had told him I was going. I closed my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose. “You having me followed now, Lincoln?”
He stood up. “Of course not. But you know I got eyes everywhere.”
“If that's the case, why are you here?”
“I just wanted to stop by and, you know, make sure you wasn't runnin' your mouth.”
I blew out some air and shook my head. “Don't worry, Linc. I haven't told anyone that you like to hit women,” I snapped.
“You talked to Trip?” he asked, ignoring my pot shot.
I shook my head slowly. “Nope. Have you.”
He let out a slight laugh. “, I meant what I said Idalis. I'd hate for his homecoming to be a sad one.”
I rolled my eyes. “I heard you Linc. Look, what do you want?”
With his change in body language I became tense.
He started toward me and I braced myself. He got close and pressed my body against the door with his, never taking his eyes from mine. Usually the smell of his cologne was an aphrodisiac, but tonight it was making me nauseous.
I felt him reach behind me and heard the soft click of the lock, which caused my heart to flip in my chest. He slid his hand up my back until it reached my hair. I closed my eyes as he pulled the ponytail holder out before running his fingers through my hair. My breathing became shallow when he brushed his lips against my neck, but it was instantly cut short when the grip he had on my hair tightened just a little.
I inhaled sharply. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” He continued kissing my neck. “I can't kiss you?”
Before I could say anything else, his mouth was on mine and he was forcing his tongue in my mouth. I reached up and interlocked my hand with his fingers to keep him from tightening his hold on my hair.
He grabbed me and pushed me toward the desk. I had to put my hands out in front of me to keep my thighs from slamming into the side.
“You jus' said I ain't been home, Idalis. So what's the problem?”
“Lincoln, stop.”
He ignored me, reached around, undid my jeans, and pushed them down around my ankles. I tried to block out what was happening, but it was all too real. His rough, angry touch was like acid, eroding my skin.
He bent me over the desk and began pushing his way inside of me, even though I was bone dry. The pain of that alone made my head spin, but that didn't stop him.
“What's wrong, Idalis?” he hissed in my ear. “You ain't wet? You don't want me?”
He continued to force his way into me. I tried hard not to cry out in pain.
“Or maybe you ain't wet 'cause I ain't Trip,” he growled, angrily.
The fact that Trip was what this was all about was more than I could handle. He held me by my neck and pressed me down into the scratchy wood of the desk. At that point I would have pissed on myself just to give him any kind of wetness and get him off me.
Head spinning, mind racing, my voice softened as I tried to relax my body. “No, baby. You know I love you. You don't have to do this. Not like this.”
I tried to give the impression that I was getting into what was happening to me. With that small gesture I felt his body relax. I spread my legs a little wider, started grinding my hips into him. I silently thanked God that in spite of what I was going through mentally, my body started doing what it was innately programmed to do: produce fluids. I wasn't running a river, but I was wet enough to encourage him to develop a rhythm and loosen the grip he had on my neck.
He grabbed me by my hips and continued moving in and out of me. With each thrust a new tear made its way down my face and landed on the desk, mixing with the other transgressions that I'm sure the worn wood held.
His movements became quicker, letting me know he was close to cumming. I felt his body tense and he let out a low growl with his release. He bent down and pressed his lips against my ear.
“You belong to me, Idalis. You hear me?”
I nodded slowly.
As I was fixing my clothes, there was a tap on the door. Without even checking to make sure I was fully covered, Lincoln opened the door. I was relieved when I saw Dionne standing there and not some drunken-ass pervert.
She sucked her teeth. “Is Idalis in here?”
“Yeah.” He shot me a look and walked out of the room.
She rushed over to me. “Girl, are you okay? Do I need to call the police?”
I tucked my shirt into my pants and fixed my ponytail.
“He is the police.”
Chapter Thirteen
Trip
“Mama, please stop bringing me stuff to eat.”
I was sitting at my mother's kitchen table trying to force down the last of the sweet potato pie, which she'd placed in front of me. When she saw that I was just about done, she walked off, mentioning more pie and something about ice cream.
“Let me feed you. It's bad enough you don't come to visit much, and when you're here, I barely get to see you. Heck, you won't even tell your own mother where you're laying your head at night.”
“That's 'cause he's shady, Mama!” my sister, Trinity, yelled from the living-room.
“Shut up before I frame you for something,” I shot back.
I got up and carried my empty plate to the kitchen. “Come on now, Mama. You know why I do that. I never know who could be following me. If anything ever happened to you, I don't know what I would do.” I bent down and kissed her on her cheek.
“What about me?” my sister yelled.
“Trin, they can have you.”
“You'd miss me.”
“Doubt it.” I laughed.
“I understand,” Mama said. “But that don't mean I gotta like it. You're too far away from home as it is, then when you come home you don't even stay in the house you were raised in.”
Mama started to run water in the sink to wash the dinner dishes. It didn't matter that she had a barely used dishwasher in the kitchen; she was old school and washed her dishes by hand. I rolled up my sleeves, ready to help. She looked up and smiled.
“I remember when you were barely tall enough to reach this old sink, Orlando. And now look at you.”
Tears filled her eyes and she quickly looked away. I instinctively knew those tears were brought on by the unwelcome memories that had hitched a ride on the happy one she'd just shared. I hugged her close and told her it was okay. She buried her face in my midsection and I absorbed every tear she wanted to get rid of.
“I'm sorry, baby,” she said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She took a step back and turned the water off in the sink before settling onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. I took the seat across from her, eyes fixed on her tear-moistened face.
“Mama, don't cry.”
“Baby, I am truly blessed. These are tears of joy.” She looked at me and smiled. “There were so many times that I didn't think I would live to see you two grow upâlet alone have my son turn out to be one of the bigwigs for the DEA. God had plans for us, and even in the midst of that chaos, He kept us. He kept you. You suffered sometimes more than me.” Her voice cracked and she dropped her head. “But, baby, you didn't let it break you. Every day I thank God for that.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I'm fine, Mama.”
“I'm not so sure, baby. Trinity is worried. Worried you're carrying around a lot of anger, which you can't shake. You need to let go, baby.”
I looked down at the floral-printed tablecloth, then back up to her. “I have let go, Mama. And Trinity wouldn't be Trinity if she wasn't worried about something or someone.”
“Letting go and running aren't the same thing. You know part of letting go requires forgiveness.”
I let her hand go and stood up. “I think you forgave him enough for the both of us.”
Our heart-to-heart was cut short when my phone vibrated against my hip. I looked at the number. It wasn't one I recognized, which made the hair on my arms stand up. I got up and went into the hall before answering.
“Spencer,” I stated.
“Trip?”
“Yeah, who is this?”
“This is Dionne, Dionne Evans, from Clark.”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah, I remember you. How'd you get my number?”
“I got it out of Idalis's phone.”
I gripped my phone. “Is she okay?”
“That's why I'm calling. I need to talk to you. Can you meet me somewhere?”
I looked at the clock above the mantel. “Meet me at the Murphy's in Virginia Highland in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay.”
I went back in the kitchen and wrapped my arms around my mother. “Mama, I gotta make a run.”
She squeezed me tightly. “When are you coming back?”
“I'll be back tomorrow for dinner.”
She looked up at me. “Don't lie to me, boy.”
I smiled. “I promise. And for the record, I'm staying at the W on Peachtree.”
I gave her another quick squeeze before cutting through the living-room, tapping my sister upside the head, and heading out the door.
In the Tahoe I picked up my phone and hit speed dial for Phil. I was supposed to be meeting him for a beer and wanted to let him know I was running behind. I listened to the phone ring in my Bluetooth before it finally rolled to his voice mail. I left him a message and told him I had to make a stop, but I'd be there as soon as I was done.
My mother's voice resonated in my ears.
“Letting go and running aren't the same thing. You know part of letting go requires forgiveness.”
My mind went to Westview Cemetery, off Ralph David Abernathy, my father's final resting place.
I had no idea where his plot was, or what his headstone read, because I didn't go to the funeral. I just knew his body was rotting underneath six feet of dirt, and that's all I cared about.
I remembered growing up and how I used to lay at night and listen to him beating my mom. Whenever I could, I would use my scrawny body as a shield to try to protect her.
Sometimes he would lock the door and I couldn't get in to help her or take the beating for her. Those nights I would huddle in a corner, comforting my sister, planning his death, while she cried into my shoulder. Sometimes I imagined it would be slow; other times it would be as easy as me taking a gun and blowing his head off. Many nights that's what fueled my drive, knowing that one day I was going to stop him.
However, as much as I used to want to be the one to end his useless life, lung cancer beat me to it. He tried reaching out to me on his deathbed, but there was no way I was giving that son of a bitch absolution for what he'd put us through. I guess he figured a few tears and a hug from me, while death hovered in the room waiting to take his sorry ass, would make all those beatings and trips to the hospital go away.
So my mother was wrong.
I did forgive him.
I forgave him for sparing me from serving a life sentence for blowing off his fucking head.
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I walked into Murphy's thirty minutes later and took a seat at the bar; I ordered a Corona. The small restaurant was tucked away in a neighborhood where I didn't have to worry about anyone running into me, or vice versa. The bartender asked if I wanted to put in an order.
“No, I'm waiting for someone. I'm good.”
I put the Corona to my lips and took a sip. I looked around, taking in my surroundings. Even when I didn't want to be, I was in surveillance mode, looking around for things that were out of place or seemed to be in a place they shouldn't be. They called that a “cop's eye.”
I called it OCD.
“Trip?”
I turned around at the sound of my name.
Dionne was standing there. Other than being older than she was in college, she looked the same.
“What's up, Dionne?” I got down off my stool and hugged her. “I see you never did get any height, shorty.”
She laughed. “Shut up. Welcome home.”
I sat back down. “Thank you.”
“So I hear you doing big things over there in New Orleans.” She smiled. “And you still fine as hell.”
I laughed. “Go 'head with that.”
“Boy, please. You always were one of the finest things walking around the AU Center. You know how many fights were caused by that smile and those eyes of yours?”
“There you go.” I laughed.
“You lucky I like women or Idalis would have competition.”
All I could do was laugh at that comment.
The bartender made his way over to us; Dionne ordered a Cosmopolitan and I ordered another Corona.
“So what's up?” I asked. “I know you didn't wanna meet to talk about college or your sexual preference.”
The expression on her face changed from nostalgic to concerned, which caused my senses to kick into gear. Especially knowing this had to do with Idalis.
“Trip.” She took a deep breath. “Something isn't right with her and Lincoln.”
“What do you mean?”
“Friday night he came in to the club when she was working,” she started.
I took a sip of my Corona and raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And they disappeared to the back. She was gone for a long time, so I went looking for her. When I found her, she was coming out of the office and she was upset.”
“Upset like what? Like they had just argued?”
She shook her head and took a swallow of her drink. “Upset like he'd just done something to her but I don't know what.”
Bombs went off in my head. Images of my mother's bruised and battered face flashed across the screen in my head. Sounds of her screams and cries blasted in my ears.
“Something like what?” I prodded.
She paused. “I don't know. But something definitely happened in that office, Trip.”
Questions were firing in my mind so quickly; I couldn't pin one down long enough to try to get an answer for it. My hand went to the phone on my hip and hung there for a second before returning to my bottle of beer.
I stopped for a second then spoke. “Dionne, I'm not sure what you want me to do baby.”
“Can you just”âshe looked aroundâ“you know, check on her? Don't you have some top-secret clearance or something?”
I laughed. “Nah, they don't trust a brotha that much.”
“She's my girl and I'm just worried about her.”
I looked toward the front door. “Dionne, honestly, I don't think I should get involved.”
She looked at me like I had just insulted her.
“Why not?”
“What's going on with her and Lincoln is between them. They have a family. We haven't been close in years. I can't get in the middle of that.”
She sucked her teeth. “But you're still her best friend, Trip.”
“I
was
her best friend. She's about to get married and I can't step on that. If she wants my help, she has to come to me herself.”
I felt bad as I watched the disappointment wash over her, but what Phil said was right. I had to stay focused on what brought me to Atlanta, and Idalis wasn't it. She had created a life with Lincoln. It was time for me to do the same.
Dionne slid down off the stool. “I understand. I just don't know what else to do.”
I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and tossed it onto the bar and followed her out the door.
The warm night air hung heavy over the city, which was now slowing to a crawl. The hustle and bustle of the streets had been replaced with the slow stroll of people in shorts and tee's search of dinner or out walking their dogs winding down for the night.
Dionne wrapped her arms around me. “Well, thanks for coming. At least now I can tell people I got to see the famous Trip Spencer while he was in town.”
I gave her a squeeze. “You're so silly. It was good seeing you too.”
She turned to walk away and I stopped her. When she turned around, I told her, “Keep an eye on her. If things get too crazy, gimme a call.”
A small smile spread across her face as she turned and headed toward the parking lot.
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Later that night I met Phil at Dugans on Ponce for Mad Mondays. He was sitting across from me, hunched over a big-ass plate of wings, fussing about the case. As much as I hated it, my mind was on the other side of town.
“Yo,” he said between bites. “You hear they pulling some of the undercovers and putting them in safe houses and shit?”
I took a long draw on my Corona. “I'm not surprised. Atlanta fucked this whole investigation up big time.”
We both stopped talking and watched as a thick-ass redbone walked by our table, catching both our attention. She smiled and I winked.
“Whoa, I know you ain't trying to get no ass.”