When It All Falls Down (15 page)

“Reservation for Nicodemus Dungy.” I hand my ID and printed reservation number to the same girl at the same rental car agency at the airport who handled my reservation when I first arrived. I'm certain that she doesn't recognized me, but I recognize the girl and the fact that she worked the night shift when I first arrived and now works an entirely different shift.

“Thank you very much. Your car is already waiting for you.” The girl hands me my ID and the key information.

I head to the parking lot and find the Dodge Stratus. I get into the car and have no intention of forming a bond with the car. I just need to get to San Francisco and meet with Brian Perkins. The clock is ticking and we are behind on points. Perkins's move is a game changer. I was foolish not to see this play. I should've known that he would try to exact revenge but my judgment has been clouded by the first gentleman's disappearance and the serial killer who was at large. Now Perkins has the upper hand, but I have to steal it back.

I drive out of the parking lot and get onto the 80 freeway. Along the way I think about all of the possible things I can do to right the ship. I think about Pastor Robinson and her husband Tony Robinson. Their marriage hangs on by a thread and the last thing Tony needs is to be reminded why he left in the first place.

I also think about Victory and how I hope to see her again. When I was with Victory, I entertained another life. A life when I could trust a woman. My profession has left me skeptical, but this case caused me to believe that not everyone is looking to get over; some just want to be loved. I believe that Victory is such a person but I have a long way to go before I can be in that place where I can settle down. For now, I have to do the one thing that I am good at and that is fix things.

I arrive at Another Level Productions. This is the last place I want to be and I only have one play here to resolve this matter. The building looks closed for business, but there are a few lights on toward the top floor. I stand outside of my rental car and wonder whether Perkins is alone. If Perkins is alone then I might be able to sway him to drop this whole idea of exposing Pastor Robinson. If not then I have a whole other problem.

I walk to the front sliding doors and am not surprised when they do not open. I knock on the door and the security guard ignores me. I knock on the door again, and again the security guard does not respond. Perkins knows that I am on my way to see him so why didn't he alert the security guard? Moments later I see the security guard on the phone and when he hangs up the phone he finally acknowledges my existence and walks over to me and opens the door.

“Sorry about that,” the security guard says.

I am sure he is not sorry, but right when I enter the hallway a large figure emerges. I am sure that before this guy accepted a position as one of Perkins's goons, he probably was a middle linebacker. I walk toward the individual with some trepidation.

“Right this way.” The goon leads me into a lobby where we wait for the elevator to arrive.

When the elevator doors open I get onto the elevator and feel even smaller than before. While on the ride up, I think about the action movies I love to watch where the hero is in an elevator and then has this intense fight on the elevator. The hero overpowers the villains and then walks out of the elevator as calm as can be while the villains lie in the elevator, unconscious. But this is not an action movie and this guy can make me plummet to the ground.

We arrive at the floor where Brian Perkins's office is and this time I can hear loud music coming from the hallway. I head toward the office and the goon follows me and erases any notion of a retreat.

“It's open,” the goon says.

I open the door and there is Brian Perkins in a two-piece suit with a cigar in his mouth. “Come on in, Preacher, and join the party.”

I am reluctant, but then I enter the office and find that Perkins and two other goons equally as big as my goon escort were engaged in a film that starred Pastor Robinson. I shudder at the image and at the same time I am aroused by her sexual activity.

“Yeah, Preacher, I told you that she was one of the best, but you probably know that because when you're alone with her in her office, I bet she gives you your own private show.”

“I'm here; now what do you want?”

“Well, isn't it obvious? I want the world to see what a hypocrite she is.” Perkins points to the screen.

“Okay, turn that off.” My words are drowned out by Pastor Robinson's moans. “Turn it off!”

Perkins pauses the movie, jumps up, and pivots around his desk. His goons follow him and my escort goon moves in behind me. The room gets a lot smaller.

“Don't be coming up in my office like you're John Gotti and ordering me what to do.”

In a fair fight, I could take Perkins. But with his goons, the only thing I can do is take Perkins to dinner.

“Look, if you wanted to run with the Web site footage, then you would've by now. I think I know what you want and here it is.” I go into my pocket and remove the envelope and extend it toward Perkins. “This is the $150,000 you gave Pastor Robinson. I'm giving it back to you in exchange for the footage you have on her.”

After a moment, Brian Perkins starts to laugh hysterically. “Whoo wee, you must be used to dealing with amateurs. It's going to take a lot more than that to buy my silence.”

“You said that this was the money that you owed her!” I say.

“And you believe that? I lost more money when she up and left.”

“Look, take the money and let's put this behind us. She's changed her life and you obviously are doing better. Let it go and take the money.”

Perkins takes a puff of his cigar and then he gives me a punch to the sternum. I fall to my knees and hear the sound of paper being torn. Then I can feel the heat of the cigar come close to my ear before a cloud of smoke is blown into my ear.

“I take no mess from a crooked preacher trying to be a gangster, and I'm not done with Li-Li until I see her whole sanctified world crumble. You heard me?”

That is the last thing I hear before I feel the sharp sting of wingtip shoes being kicked into my rib cage and my mouth. I try to cover up, but the blows get worse and the laughter gets louder. I then feel two strong arms pick me up and carry me out of the office. I am taken down the lobby to the elevator. I don't see the security guard and I assume that he is on break. While on the elevator I don't know if the goons plan to murder me or turn me loose. All I know is that I am glad that I don't have to worry about being kicked and punched.

Once off the elevator I am carried out of the lobby and through the parking lot to a car. I am leaned against the car and the final blow comes to my stomach and I fall back down on my knees.

“And that concludes tonight's Bible Study,” one of the goons says.

It takes me awhile to get on my feet and I get in my car. I grimace as I reach to turn on the ignition. I struggle to get out of the parking lot and I struggle to drive on the highway. The pain from the blows is too much and I lose control of the car, and the car steers off the road before I lose consciousness.

Pain doesn't often get its just due. Pain often has a negative connotation to it. People try all kinds of ways to avoid pain, including death. For me, pain is an indicator that something is wrong and needs to be fixed. Pain also is an indicator that I am alive. I awake in the hospital full of pain. When I open my eyes Pastor Robinson and Minister Blackwell are there with their Bibles in hand.

“Never thought I would be happy to see you two,” I say.

“Likewise. The last thing I need is for you to die,” Pastor Robinson says.

I take a moment to assess my environment. I am hooked up to an IV and a machine that is monitoring my heart rate. My rib cage has been bandaged as well as my left arm. My face feels swollen and I can only imagine what damage was caused by Perkins and what other damage was caused by the car accident.

“You're lucky to be alive. The paramedics found the car on the side of the road, totaled,” Minister Blackwell says.

“What happened?” Pastor Robinson asks.

“I went and saw Brian Perkins. I made him an offer and he refused.”

Pastor Robinson shakes her head and walks over to the side of my bed where a container of water is positioned. She pours a cup of water and assists me in taking sips. “Did he crash your car?”

“No, I crashed it, but Perkins and his wonderful group of distinguished gentlemen did help.”

“I'm so sorry,” Pastor Robinson says. I can tell she is genuine and if nothing else this whole ordeal helps soften her shell.

“Listen, I'm not much for pity parties, especially when I'm the guest of honor. Has it gone online?”

Both Pastor Robinson and Minister Blackwell shake their heads in unison. I want to feel relief that the news about Pastor Robinson's other life has not been exposed, but something is up. Perkins wouldn't reveal his hand if he didn't expect to play it.

“He wants to meet with Pastor Robinson face to face.”

“That's good isn't it? That means he wants to settle it.” Pastor Robinson seems hopeful.

“Last night I offered him my complete fee. $150,000. If he rejected that, then I'm afraid his price is too steep.”

I can see the concern on both Pastor Robinson's and Minister Blackwell's faces. I made a mistake in underestimating Perkins. If I am to resolve this issue, then I need to think a step ahead.

“Then again maybe not, but we don't have much choice in the matter. Set up a meeting and we'll go from there.”

Pastor Robinson gives me a head nod and sets the cup of water down on the portable table next me. Pastor Robinson and Minister Blackwell pray for me and then they leave me alone to contemplate my position and how I can rise out of it.

 

 

I awake again in the hospital, still quite sore, but this time I see another familiar face.

“Before you say it, I did see the other guy and he got the better of you,” Paul says with my Jell-O in his hands.

“Are you here for any other reason than to tell bad jokes and eat my Jell-O?”

“I told you I don't have many friends so when I get the word that my friend is in the hospital, well, that made me push my flight back.”

I am glad to see Paul, especially for this next phase of my plan. The last few days in the hospital with heavy medication has forced me to sleep and as a result my mind is sharper than a samurai sword. I figure out a way to resolve this matter and Paul will play an intricate part in my success.

“So who did this to you?” Paul asks.

“Brian Perkins.”

“Why is he not in handcuffs?”

“Because I have something much bigger in store for Mr. Perkins.”

Paul grabs a seat and pulls it closer to me. I know I have his ear, which means that I have won half the battle of getting Paul to do exactly what I need him to do.

“I need you,” I say.

“I figured that. What do you need?”

“I need to take down Perkins, and hard,” I say.

“Why, because he's threatening to post some very interesting video footage of your pastor friend?” Paul sets the empty cup of Jell-O on the table next to me.

Paul is a great journalist, but his problem is that he doesn't know how to turn it off. Paul knows what happened to me, but he wants to first see the cards I am holding before he shows me his hand.

“She's a good woman. I've witnessed it first hand. She's an honorable woman and I need you to dig up whatever you can find on him.”

“When I come across this information, should I bring it to you at the Bada Bing? Or maybe we could do like
Casino
and go out to the desert to talk. If you're going to be a gangster, then make sure you look the part.”

“Don't start that.” I wish I could walk away from Paul, but with limited mobility, all I can do is turn my head.

“Nic, you're in the hospital beat up. I've reported on a lot of things; from a woman who tried to stick her child in the oven because she said that God wanted a burnt offering, to a guy who drove drunk backward through downtown Los Angeles and didn't hit a single car. A preacher who gets beat up while supposedly preaching the Gospel ranks right up there.”

“Look, Paul, we have plenty of time to discuss my life, but I need you to help me resolve this problem.”

Paul heads toward the door and stops at the doorway. “I'll see what I can come up with. In the meantime you take care of yourself.”

And like that Paul leaves and like that I drift back off to sleep.

After two days of
Seinfeld
reruns, questionable hospital food, and a motley crew of nurses, I am discharged from the hospital. Nothing more major than a couple of bruises to my ribs, nose, arm, and most of all, pride. I call the one person I want to see the most, Victory. Victory shows up to take me back to the hotel. With the help of the nurse, Victory takes on the dubious honor of wheeling me out the hospital in a wheelchair. With my right arm in a sling, I can't do much but scratch my nose.

Victory wheels me out of the hospital into the open parking lot across the street from the hospital. I don't like to be vulnerable, but Victory is the one person who makes vulnerability tolerable.

“You're lucky to be alive,” Victory says.

Victory helps me get into the passenger seat of the car. I grimace from the multiple bruises. I feel anything but lucky at the moment.

“It's by the grace of God that I'm alive,” I say.

Victory closes the door and gets in on the driver's side. “Okay, we're going to stop at the store and pick up a few things and then go to your hotel to rest.”

I have not told Victory where I stay. That is a firm rule that I am about to break, but do I have a choice?

“That's probably why you got into the car accident. You haven't had enough rest.” Victory says.

“Where are you staying?” Victory asks.

“Executive Suites.”

We drive along the highway and I watch the clouds swallow up the sun. For the first time I don't have a care in the world. I am not vexed by the Pastor Robinson situation or my injuries. I just watch the sun as my eyes close.

“Come on, sleepy, let's go inside.”

Victory shakes me and I fully awaken in the parking lot of the Executive Suites hotel. I am still a little foggy from the medicine.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Hold on. Let me come and get you.” Victory gets out of the car.

“That's okay, I got it.” I try to beat Victory by getting out of the car first and I almost fall down from being lightheaded.

“I told you; don't rush, I got you.”

Victory takes my arm and throws it over her shoulder. Victory starts to assist me from the parking lot to the hotel.
My physical wounds will heal faster than my pride.
We head to the hotel entrance, but Victory does not stop there. She continues to assist me through the lobby and does not stop until we arrive at the elevators. Victory leans me against the wall to take a breath until the elevator arrives.

When the elevator doors open, I sneak into the elevator before Victory can help and I find a spot on the other side of the elevator.

“You think you're slick.” Victory smiles. “What floor?”

I hold up the number three and Victory presses the button to my floor. Victory has a smile on her face. I wonder what makes her smile. We arrive at my floor and Victory resumes her responsibility of assisting me to my room. After a few fumbles I find my key and open the door. Victory lets go of me and I stumble to the bed and lie down.

“I'll be right back,” Victory says as she takes the extra key off the table and heads out the door.

I lie on the bed with my eyes closed. I hear the door close and after a moment, I gather enough strength to get up and head to my briefcase. I take out a change of clothes and my toiletries. My left arm is being overworked, but I have to take a shower to wash off the hospital experience.

I go into the bathroom and set my things on the counter. I need to protect my bandaged arm from the water, so I grab the trash bag from the empty trashcan and I take my arm from my sling and wrap the plastic bag around my forearm.

It takes my body a minute to adjust to the warm water and I grimace from the pain and the exhaustion of having to do everything with my left hand. I hear the door open and close and realize that Victory has returned. I stay in the shower a few more minutes and I feel a lot better by the time I turn the water off. I want to avoid an awkward situation so I make sure that I get fully dress before I leave the bathroom. I have the most difficult challenge putting on my shirt with one arm.

I walk out of the bathroom and on the table is a nice spread of bread, vegetables, and meats. Victory is at work putting together a sandwich.

“How was your shower?” Victory asks with her back turned toward me.

“It'll suffice for now.”

“Do you like mayonnaise?” Victory asks.

“Love it!” I sit down on the edge of the bed.

Victory finishes making the sandwich. She grabs a bag of barbeque chips from a grocery bag, opens it, and pours some chips onto the plate. Victory hands me the plate and I take it with my one good arm.

“Thank you,” I say.

“No problem.” Victory hands me a bottle of water. “It's not good to take pills on an empty stomach, so take a couple of bites and then take your medicine.”

I follow the doctor's orders and eat half of my sandwich before I take my prescribed Vicodin. I sit on the bed and eat and Victory takes a seat in the chair next to the table and eats as well. I turn on the TV and we watch a rerun of
A Different World.

“In high school my classmates use to tease me and call me Whitley.”

“I wonder why?” I say in my most sarcastic tone.

My comment is rewarded with a balled-up paper thrown at my head. I finish my lunch and hand the trash to Victory. It doesn't take long for the Vicoden to kick in. I lie back in the bed and drift off to sleep.

 

 

A knock on the door wakes me and all that is left of Victory is her scent. That and a note on the table. While I am curious to know who is at my door knocking, I am even more curious to read Victory's note. I get up and walk over to the table. The knocking does not cease, which means that whoever is on the other side of the door knows I am home. I unfold Victory's note.

I smile, but another knock on the door reminds me that I have company. I pray that this is not one of Brian Perkins's goons coming to finish me off. I open the door from an awkward position with my left hand and there is Pastor Robinson on the other side.

“Minister Dungy, I'm sorry to bother you, but I really needed to talk with you.”

How did you know where I stayed?
I am off my game and that is not good. “Come on in.” I open the door wide enough for Pastor Robinson to come in. Once she is in I close the door.

“How are you?” Pastor Robinson asks.

“About as well as can be expected. What happened?'

“Brian got in contact with me. He wants to meet on Friday.” Pastor Robinson takes a seat in the chair that Victory sat in a few hours ago.

Time is relative when you've spent the last few days in the hospital. It takes me a moment to realize that today is Wednesday, which meant that we only have two days to prepare for this meeting. Lost in my thoughts I don't notice that Pastor Robinson has started to sulk.

“Pastor Robinson,” I say to get her attention.

“I don't want to lose him! I love my husband and I don't want to lose him, but I don't have the strength to fight.”

This whole experience has brought Pastor Robinson to her knees. I feel the same way and I think that it is only fitting that I help Pastor Robinson back to her feet.

I kneel down and face Pastor Robinson. “We may be pressed on every side, but we are not broken. We're going to get through this, but I need to get Tony on board.”

Pastor Robinson looks at me skeptically, but little does she know that while I was in and out of consciousness I devised a plan that included the help of Tony Robinson.