Read An Inconvenient Friend Online
Authors: Rhonda McKnight
An Inconvenient Friend (9 page)
Chapter 14
The media had turned up the heat on their reports about the death of Robin Edwards. Angelina kept waiting for the reprieve that normally happened when something juicier came along and the cattle of reporters shifted in a herd to torture a new victim. But the metro Atlanta area was quiet, and the only thing they had to gnaw at was The Division of Youth and Family Services. And gnaw they did. A reporter had even done a feature titled
DEATH BE NOT PROUD
:
TEN YEARS OF FAILURE IN THE DYFS SYSTEM
, wherein he chronicled every child death the agency had had in the last ten years. Many of which were not the agency's fault. To the reporter's credit, he didn't try to even sway the story in that direction, but the title spoke volumes and sent a negative message regardless of the content.
DEATH BE NOT PROUD
:
TEN YEARS OF FAILURE IN THE DYFS SYSTEM
, wherein he chronicled every child death the agency had had in the last ten years. Many of which were not the agency's fault. To the reporter's credit, he didn't try to even sway the story in that direction, but the title spoke volumes and sent a negative message regardless of the content.
Angelina's BlackBerry vibrated for the eighth time since the press conference. It was another newspaper calling. She had come to recognize the prefixes on their telephone numbers.
The governor announced that the agency had completed its preliminarily investigation. He assigned blame to high case loads and systemic internal system issues that could have been avoided had the agency been given money to purchase a computer system that kept data in one repository instead of paper records all over the state. Once management pulled case files together for children who had lived in the foster family's home, it was pretty clear there was a pattern of monitoring neglect on the part of the agency. They were in trouble. The commissioner was angry, and the governor was hot. Heads were about to roll.
“I thought you could use this.”
Angelina looked up to see Portia, her receptionist, standing in front of her desk holding a steaming mug of coffee. She smiled and accepted the cup from the young woman. Portia, a twenty-two-year-old red head with green eyes and multiple tattoos, was as different from Angelina as night was from day. But the young woman was efficient and sensitive to Angelina's moods, often going out of her way to soothe the ills of the day, like she was doing now.
“Thanks.” Angelina smiled and placed the mug on a coaster.
“And there's more.” Portia pulled an envelope from behind her back and stuck it under Angelina's nose. They made eye contact, and Angelina noticed Portia was blushing. The reddening of Portia's porcelain skin meant she was excited or angry, and since she was giddy, her coloring meant excitement. Angelina felt her heart skip a beat. They had a donation, likely a big one, and boy did they need it.
Angelina removed the check and letter from the envelope. It was notification she'd been awarded the grant she'd requested from Murray Sporting Goods and a check for ten thousand dollars to fund a summer mentoring program for pre-teen boys. She wanted to cry, but instead, she put Portia to work. “Call the community relations manager, what's his name, Van something from the Atlanta Sparks.”
Portia nodded and made rapid steps to the door.
“I'm going to send an email to the director about that campground in Conyers and see if they still have space,” Angelina continued. “Would you pull the file for me?”
Portia nodded.
“And after you reach Van, get me contact numbers for V-103's publicity department.”
Portia threw her hand up and saluted Angelina. “Will do, boss.” She turned to exit.
“Oh, and Portia,” Angelina called before the young woman disappeared. “Thanks for the coffee and looking out for the good news.”
Portia winked and disappeared through the door.
Within minutes, Angelina was on the phone negotiating the details of a summer program with the Sparks community relations manager. The basketball team had been willing to match money they received from a sponsor, so they had twenty thousand dollars. It would be an awesome time for the kids. The plan was to sign up one hundred pre-teen foster boys and teach them everything from how to tie a tie to how to start a small business. In addition to a few of the team's players, she was hoping to get the attention of a local celebrity entertainerâhip hop star or radio personalityâto really make the week special. This was what Something Extra was all about. This made DYFS's failure less of a burden on her soul.
Â
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Angelina locked up her small office. Once Portia was gone, that was it for staff at Something Extra. Volunteers came and went, but usually finished their day by 3:00
P.M
. to avoid getting stuck on the interstate. She looked at her watch. It was after five. She was a little pressed for time, but if she didn't hit any pockets of traffic, she'd be at the restaurant by six, as promised, for her dinner with Greg.
P.M
. to avoid getting stuck on the interstate. She looked at her watch. It was after five. She was a little pressed for time, but if she didn't hit any pockets of traffic, she'd be at the restaurant by six, as promised, for her dinner with Greg.
She climbed into her automobile and pulled into the thick of cars heading out of downtown Norcross. Choosing a restaurant in Atlanta had been a good choice because she was actually moving against most traffic.
She was on cloud nine. After the grueling press conference, where angry words and accusations flew around like planes over the airport, things were looking up. She prayed her luck wasn't about to run out at dinner. She'd been anxious all day about their meeting, but the truth was the conversation could go well with Greg. He, like she, had a chance to mull some things over and really think about their future. An earlier text message from Felesia had reminded her to remain positive about it all. She'd been doing that, or at least trying, until the phone rang.
Chapter 15
I knew my relationship with Greg had kicked up a notch. I could tell by the way he looked at me when he walked out of the door. It was that “I don't want to leave” look. The one a man gets on his face when he's satisfied completely. And satisfy him I did. It began with the phone call where he'd answered and I'd whispered, “I'm wearing purple panties.” Within an hour, Greg was stretched out on the lavender silk sheets I'd picked up on the way home. I'd sat next to him in my new lavender satin “Merry Widow” getup I'd gotten at Fredrick's of Hollywood on my last stop. I kept a credit card for the store for emergencies like this one. Just like I hoped, they had this God awful-uncomfortable set hanging in the back on a display. And that wasn't it, I was in luckâpurple was in fashion. I purchased everything from thongs to elbow length gloves. He was never going to see so much purple in his life. Angelina had no idea how I welcomed that little tidbit of information.
“Where did you get that sexy get-up?” he'd asked, loosening his tie.
I helped him remove his jacket. Then I pushed him down on the couch, hard. I straddled him. “Don't you worry about that.”
I fed him from a fork like a king, rubbed his feet like I
now
knew he liked, gave him some mind blowing sex, and sent him on his way. I was exhausted. Stealing a man was hard work.
now
knew he liked, gave him some mind blowing sex, and sent him on his way. I was exhausted. Stealing a man was hard work.
I stripped. Ready for a long, hot soak, I climbed into my Jacuzzi tub. Just as I reached for the knob to turn on the jets for the water massager, the telephone rang. I cursed. One glance at the caller ID, and I could see it was my mother. Reluctantly, I answered. “Hi, Mama.”
“Hey, baby, you busy?”
She wanted something, but it wasn t urgent. When it was urgent, she didn't care if I were busy. “I'm taking a bath.”
“A bath. Why you wanna take a bath when you got a shower?”
She was stalling with that question. Whatever she wanted was going to really piss me off. “I'm worn out, and a bath is relaxing. What's up?”
“You the tiredest young girl I ever seen. Whatcha doing to get so tired?”
All I want is this soak.
“I work. A lot on several different jobs and projects. Tell me what's up?”
“I work. A lot on several different jobs and projects. Tell me what's up?”
There was a long pause before my mother spoke. “I know you gonna be upset, but ya' cousin need some more of those pills.”
I sat straight up, water sloshing. “What do you mean more? I gave you ten pills. I can't take anymore. I'll get caught!”
“He gets his check the end of the month, and he can buy some more.”
“The end of the month is more than a week away. What happened to what I gave you? He couldn't have taken that many so fast.”
“He dropped some down the drain.” Her voice was nervous with the lie.
Dropped some down the drain.
Now I know she thought I was a fool. Those were the lies I told when I stole the dang pills: dropped them on the floor, patient refused them but I had already contaminated them, patient spit them out, etc. etc. to account for needing to get more. So I knew a rouse. I created one every time I went to work.
Now I know she thought I was a fool. Those were the lies I told when I stole the dang pills: dropped them on the floor, patient refused them but I had already contaminated them, patient spit them out, etc. etc. to account for needing to get more. So I knew a rouse. I created one every time I went to work.
“Mama, is June selling them?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because I don't believe a drug addict would drop a pill down the drain. A coke head wipes the table clean. Nobody addicted wastes drugs.”
“Well, he did. You know he got that bad arm. So unless you got money to buy some, I need more,” she barked and then got humble. “'Til the first.”
Those pills were at least fifty dollars a piece on the street. No way could I buy enough to keep him going for ten days. I didn't have any cash, and my credit cards were maxed out. The lavender had taken me over the top. This was insane. “I can't do it. I'll get caught and fired. I could lose my license.”
“It's just one more time. Then we'll ... I mean, he'll buy some.”
“Mama, June has got to get help. He can't afford a hundred dollar a day drug habit.” I let out a breath. “I can give you some money, and he can pick up some Demerol or Percocet.”
“No!” she screamed. The shriek startled me so that I almost dropped the phone in the tub. “I can't live with him when he ain' t got his stuff. He start yelling and acting crazy.”
“Butâ”
“No âbut,' Samaria. I told you we gonna have money at the end of month. I need you to give me some more pills. Just this last time.” My mother's breathing became ragged. I could hear her taking a breath from her inhaler. “Ya' cousin, June, is all I have left of my dead sister. I promised her I would take care of him, and I'm trying.”
“Mama, you not going to have June if he's overdosing on that stuff, and uh, he's almost thirty years old. He's not a kid.”
“I been talking to him about rehab. We working on it. I'm working on it. I need you to just help me 'til I gets him there.”
I nodded, although I did not believe her. “Okay. I'll try.”
“Can you get the green ones? They stronger. He breaks them in half.”
“I'll get what I can, but I'm telling you, this is the last time.”
I hung up with my mother and reached for the loofah to wash my body. Then I turned on the jets and tried to let the heat and rhythmic flow of the water relax my muscles. This was getting crazy. I had never done this before in my career, and to think I was doing it and it wasn 't even for me. I had turned into a drug supplier, and I didn't know how to get out of it. And June was getting worse about feeding his habit. He'd gone from the white to the pink and pink to peach, and now he was begging for the green ones. OX was bad stuff, which meant this couldn 't end good. I had to stop supplying him. I couldn't afford it from my wallet or on my job, so he'd either start stealing or killing to get more and end up in jail. That would break my mother's heart.
I closed my eyes to the problem and tried instead to focus on Greg. I said his name over and over again out loud to hypnotize myself and bring my world back into the order that my mother 's call had shattered.
Greg. I loved the crazed look in his eyes when he'd seen me in the lingerie which was heightened when he entered the bedroom and saw the lavender rose petals leading to the bed. I had worked the heck out of that little piece of information Angelina shared. Worked it until only the motion of the water could remove the ache. Greg was a stallion. The only man I'd known who'd ever been able to keep up with me in bed had been Mekhi.
My heart rate sped up just thinking about Mekhi. He looked so good last week. Greg was fine, but he was an older man. I had no idea how much we'd have in common when we did eventually get together. I envisioned him wanting to listen to old school music from the eighties, or heaven forbid, he was into neo-classic jazz or some fusion music or crap like that. I liked hip-hop and rap. That music was in my blood, which brought my memory full circle back to Mekhi.
Music always made me think of Mekhi. He loved it. Taught me to love it. Taught me to understand the beats and the rhythms. How to feel the music in my heart instead of just hear it with my ears. He and I would spend hours chillin' on the roof of his building with a boom box listening to Jay Willie and Busta Lee 's early underground stuff while Mekhi wrote silly little poems and love songs. We mapped out our future; planned our escape from White Gardens.
It was also when Mekhi introduced me to the business.
“Girl, we gonna make this money and get up out of here. ”Mekhi's white teeth shone in the moonlight. “I'ma buy you a phat house off Cascade or in Buckhead. Wherever you wanna live. I got you.”
I was lying on my back. Mekhi was perched on one elbow next to me, his clear eyes staring at the moon and the stars. What he was talking about seemed like it was as far away from our world as the Milky Way, but fantasies were all we had as teenagers. Our reality was so bad. While Mekhi had dreams of living the lifestyle of the rich and famous, all I wanted to do was get away from my mother's boyfriends; their filthy looks and even filthier hands.
I raised an arm and reached around the back of his neck and pulled him to me. All my hopes and dreams for leaving these rat and roach invested projects were tied to this man; his plans, his lips, and his body.
“You promise you're going to take care of me, Mekhi?” I asked, looking deep into his eyes, always making sure he never flinched or blinked when he assured me he would. We sealed our dreams with kisses and teenage love making that had gone from being clumsy to being as sweet as the fantasies that preceded it.
My experiences and my mama had taught me that I couldn 't trust a man. Yeah, I'd known Mekhi since I was eight years old. Yeah, Mekhi had been a friend before he'd become my boo. Yeah, Mekhi had me wearing FUBU and Phat Farm and blingin with YSL and Gucci bags. Yeah, Mekhi was the reason I didn 't ride the crappy school bus. We rolled everywhere in his Honda Accord on twenty-inch spinning rims with his base stereo announcing our arrival. Mekhi was my savior. My mama kept warning me. “Girl, don't get yourself all in love with that boy. As sure as the sun rises, he gonna let you down. Something about being male makes them all stupid.”
Mekhi 's tape played louder in my head than my mother's. When he thought I was ready, he had brought me into his business. Boosting. Mekhi taught me how to steal any clothing item that wasn 't nailed down, and we were moving on to jewelry. “You can do this, Sammie. Ain't nobody gonna get caught.” His voice was strong. His words sure. I trusted Mekhi Johnson one hundred percent. Trusted what he said and what he did.
Slam!
Bars closed in my face. The sound was so real it startled me. I bolted up in the water which was now chilly. My heart raced with such velocity I thought blood would come out of my ears.
Bars closed in my face. The sound was so real it startled me. I bolted up in the water which was now chilly. My heart raced with such velocity I thought blood would come out of my ears.
“
Argh
,” I moaned. I stood and reached for a towel.
Argh
,” I moaned. I stood and reached for a towel.
Mekhi Johnson was history. Bad history. I stepped on rose petals as I moved across the bathroom floor. They paved the road to my future. The rose petals, sheets, and lingerie I'd discarded on the floor. Forget Mekhi. I had to focus on Gregory Preston.
I thought of Angelina. How disappointed she had to be when her husband called and cancelled dinner. I thought about how proud she'd been of me when I shared my ideas for the health fair. She liked me, which was interesting because women never did. Especially women like her. I wanted to blame it on stupidity, but I knew Angelina was no dummy. She was just kind and genuine. Pure, even. I hated that her good heartedness and naivety were going to cost her so dearly because I was going to bust up her marriage and take her husband if it were the last thing I did.
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