Red Light Special (15 page)

Monday walked in through the front door, leaving an ocean of reporters out by the security gate. When she pushed the door open to her bedroom, Kenyatta was standing there with Hudson, who was in Monday’s walk-in closet, searching through her things.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Monday snapped as she watched Hudson pull her gray suit out of the closet and lay it on the bed.

“Don’t worry about what she’s doing!” Kenyatta snarled. “She’s on her damn job, unlike your ass, which I called over an hour ago.”

Monday ignored Kenyatta and instead turned to Hudson and said, “Why the hell are you in my closet?”

“I was just trying to help out.”

“I don’t need your damn help!”

“Are you ignoring me, Monday?” Kenyatta paced in disbelief. It was obvious that he was nervous, “Anyway, that isn’t even important right now. What’s important is that the authorities found some bogus-ass pictures and a diary that this bitch Eve wrote about me.” He shook his head. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Hudson turned to him and said, “Kenyatta, we will rise above this. You cannot let this get you down.”

Before Kenyatta could comment, there was a knock at the door, and they all turned around. It was Mehki. “You mind if I come in?”

“Yeah, come on,” Kenyatta said. “We have to get our story straight before we go to the FBI.”

Taken aback, Mehki said, “What are we going to see the FBI for? I thought we were just going to do a press conference.”

“We have one scheduled right after this.” Hudson stepped in. “This is about the best political move he can make. There have been a lot of things coming up and hitting us pretty hard, and in order to get past this, we need to have the mayor go and speak with the agents as if he has nothing to hide. The people will love that.”

“Wait a minute—wait a minute,” Mehki said. “What are you talking about, going down to the FBI? They haven’t called to question him. They haven’t even been here.” Mehki turned to Kenyatta. “And what are you going to say to the FBI?”

“Look, I have to clear my name. Reporters have been calling me all day.” He turned to look at Monday, thinking of how long he’d been trying to get in touch with her. “And all of this shit is just becoming a little too much.”

“That’s why,” Hudson said, “we’re going down to the FBI for him to voluntarily make a statement, so this way they will think he has nothing to hide. We will regain the people’s trust, and we can move on.”

Mehki looked at Hudson strangely. “As your attorney,” he said to Kenyatta, “I don’t advise you to do that. I mean, come on. We all are attorneys here, so certainly someone understands where I’m coming from. Going down to the FBI makes absolutely no sense. What are you going to go down there for? To perjure yourself?”

“No one said anything about perjury,” Hudson insisted. “This is not about perjury. This is about political positioning.”

“No, this is not about political positioning,” Mehki snapped, “this is about committing a federal crime! Furthermore, it was a diary. You haven’t even seen it nor do you know what it says. And you don’t even know if you are in those photos. But you are going to break-dance down to the FBI’s office, and for what? You’re going to make a statement for what reason? Trust me—if they want you, they will find you. You don’t have to look for them!”

Hudson interrupted him and said sternly to Kenyatta, “As your chief of staff, I know that we have the ability to rise above this and regain the people’s trust. And in order to regain their trust we have to show that we have nothing to hide. Besides, being mayor is just a stepping-stone. Kenyatta has the talent and the leadership ability to go all the way to the top.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Kenyatta interjected.

Monday waved, “Kenyatta do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

“What the hell!” Kenyatta snapped. “And you supposed to be my wife? And every time I need you to support me, you always off on some bullshit. Let me tell you something, I am a great mayor.”

“Yes you are,” Hudson chimed in.

“I proposed to cut property taxes, I raised the school budget, built more houses in the poor areas, opened more job programs, more local parks, free camps, and all sorts of shit. I paid my dues and I’m not gon’ let some dead bitch—”

Monday shook her head, there it was again.

“Fuck up everything,” Kenyatta continued, “I worked hard for.”

“Exactly.” Hudson smiled in admiration, “Exactly.”

As they walked into the federal building Hudson held her cell phone to her ear. “Everything has been arranged,” she said to Kenyatta. “We just need to ask for Agent Jones and Agent West in the Missing Persons Squad.”

They walked into the interrogation room, where the agents were already sitting. Everyone shook hands and then took their seats.

“Thank you for coming down here,” Agent Jones said. “We sincerely appreciate it. And we just want you to know that everything we say in this room will be recorded.”

“Okay,” Kenyatta said, clearing his throat. “That’s not a problem. I just came down here so that I can clear my name.” He cleared his throat again and his voice began to sound mechanical. “I come humbly before you to extend my sympathy to the family of this missing person, Eve, because a man such as myself is always willing to get the truth out there. I just want to address some things that have been in the media, especially since I’m such a stand-up person and have nothing to hide. And I wanted to address some of the bullshit that ho wrote about me.”

Mehki cleared his throat and placed his hand on Kenyatta’s shoulder. “What I meant was,” Kenyatta said, “the diary is some bull—some nonsense. And the pictures. I’m sure they aren’t of me.” The FBI agent slid the pictures to Kenyatta. They were of him and Eve entering a hotel lobby. “That could’ve been at a political event.” They slid him another photo of them kissing. Kenyatta cleared his throat, “Gentlemen, I bid you farewell.”

He rose from his seat, but Agent Jones said, “Excuse me, Mayor, but we just want to ask you a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

“Perhaps we should cut this short,” Mehki said.

“We won’t be long, Counselor.” Agent Jones insisted, “surely such a great mayor doesn’t mind helping us to clear things up.”

“No.” Kenyatta sat back down. “Not at all.”

“Well,” Agent Jones said, “we appreciate you coming down here and taking time from your busy schedule. You know, being humble and all.”

“Excuse me.” Kenyatta looked around the room. “Are you mocking me?” Mehki placed his hand back on Kenyatta’s shoulder.

“No sir,” the agent went on. “We would never do such a thing. We just wanted you to answer a few things and then you may go.”

“Ai’ight, go ahead…I mean, proceed.”

“Thank you, Mayor Smith. So did you or did you not have an affair with Eve Johnson?”

“I’ve already addressed that issue.”

“Okay, sir, do you know a retired cop by the name of Tracy Robinson?”

Kenyatta blinked and his heart thundered in his chest. “No.”

Monday’s palms began to sweat, there was that name again.

“Okay, so,” the agent continued, “let me ask you this. Did you have an affair with Collyn Bazemore?”

Monday’s neck jerked. Collyn’s was the last name she expected to hear. Scared of what might come from the agent’s mouth next, she started biting her bottom lip.

“Collyn?” Kenyatta said, taken aback. “Hell no.”

“Okay, uh…what about Taryn. Taryn Bazemore?”

“Taryn?” Kenyatta hesitated. “No.”

“Okay, so what about Geneva Thompson?”

“Geneva Thompson,” Kenyatta said distantly. “Never heard of her.”

The agents looked at Monday and then back at each other.

“I don’t know what motherfuckin’ game you playin’,” Kenyatta spat, “but this interview is over with.”

Acting as if he’d never said a word, they continued on. “And what about Hudson James?”

The entire room looked at Hudson as Monday gasped.

Instantly Kenyatta exploded. “How the fuck y’all gon’ ask me some shit like that in front of my wife? Disrespecting me and shit! Y’all motherfuckers don’t know Kenyatta Smith.”

“Ooo-kay,” Mehki said, “let’s go, ladies.” He grabbed Kenyatta by the arm. “We need to leave now.”

“Nah, nah!” Kenyatta snatched the buttons open on his double-breasted suit jacket.

Mehki’s grip tightened on him. “Let’s go now!” he said sternly as he shoved the mayor through the door.

The sea of cameras flashed in Monday’s eyes once again as she stood dressed in her press conference uniform: gray skirt, matching jacket, and pearls. She was at the podium beside Kenyatta, who cleared his throat. The crowd quieted down.

He stood with his back straight, looking somber and feeling sorry for himself that he’d been caught in yet another lie. He looked directly into the camera and began to speak. “Good evening. I come humbly before you as not only the mayor of our great city but also as a man who comes to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry to all of you who have been hurt by the recent allegations of me being involved with Eve Johnson…”

He turned to Monday. She’d missed her cue to squeeze his hand; seeing that she hadn’t picked up on it, Kenyatta continued on. “I have apologized to my wife for the hurt that I have caused our marriage. But that in no way affects my ability to lead this city. However, there seems to be a vendetta against me, because now very private and personal things that have gone on between my wife and myself have come out in the paper.” Again Monday missed her cue. Kenyatta looked at her, and to the public he seemed to have a look of sorrow on his face, one of apology that he’d hurt her. Only Monday knew that the look indicated that it would be on this afternoon.

“So, my great city, I am here to deal with the series of articles and reports that have accused me of being involved in an adulterous relationship with Eve Johnson. And even if that were true it has nothing to do with my ability to run this city. I want you to know that you are all that matters, so I humbly apologize to you for the pain that these allegations may have caused.”

Monday started unbuttoning her gray jacket.

Her eyes watered as she grew exhausted of standing in this spot and standing behind him every time he lied, making her look like a damn fool to everybody here and across the world. This had gone far beyond what she’d ever thought she would accept in life. So while the cameras were rolling and he was remixing the truth to fit the last lie he told, she simply walked out and left Kenyatta there alone.

“Monday.” Mehki walked up swiftly behind her. “Where are you going?”

“I need to leave. I can’t fuckin’ breathe in here.”

“But where are you going?”

“I don’t know, but I have to get out of here.” Tears dripped down her face. She was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

“Come here.” He pulled her to his chest. “I’ll take you home.”

Noticing a sea of reporters up ahead, Mehki took her hand, walked with her to his car, and they left.

Collyn sat Indian style on her couch with a bowl of popcorn in her hand, watching the mayor’s news conference. She, like everyone else, couldn’t believe that Monday had actually walked off the stage and left Kenyatta standing there. “It’s about damn time!” She smiled. “Taryn,” she yelled, “Bless! Come here and see this shit.”

Taryn ran into the living room with the baby swinging on her hip. “You have got to see this.” Collyn laughed as Bless sat down on the floor between her legs.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Look,” she said, grabbing the remote and replaying the scene on the DVR. They all watched Monday walk off the stage, leaving Kenyatta standing there looking like a fool.

Taryn started laughing. In fact, she laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes and her shoulders shook.

“You better stop laughing at your baby’s daddy.” Collyn wiped tears of hilarity from her eyes.

Bless glanced over at Taryn. “Wait a minute. Nah, she’s not really his daughter, is she? That was a joke?”

“Shit,” Collyn said. “It was a joke, but two years and a late child support check later, it ain’t funny.”

“Damn.” Bless turned to Collyn. “Did he fuck you too?”

She mushed him on the side of the head. “Niggah, I wouldn’t dare fuck that dirty-dick motherfucker.”

“Excuse you,” Taryn snapped.

“Oh, don’t be mad, Taryn,” Collyn snickered as she and Bless fell against the back of the couch, laughing. “Don’t be mad.”