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Authors: Victor McGlothin

BOOK: Sleep Don't Come Easy
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Redeeming Me
“I
s she ready to transport?” The little man couldn't have been any taller than five-three. Nelson towered over him by almost a foot, and yet, he shrank into a shadow of a man as soon as the little man came into the room. Behind him stood another man, larger, who never said a word.
Nelson sat hunched over one of the tables in the empty dining hall, with his hands in front of him. He was exhausted, mentally and physically drained. “What happened to the other girl?” he asked with his head lowered, talking into his chest.
“What?” the man asked irritably.
Nelson slowly raised his head. “The Russian girl? You didn't have to kill her, man.”
The little man looked annoyed, and the bigger man glared at Nelson. “You give me what I came here for. Nothing else is any of your business.”
He'd been obedient, dependable, reliable in the past. He'd done everything he'd been told to do because that's what they paid him for. Nelson fell into a trap of his own passion a year ago, believing he was helping people who couldn't help themselves. Yes, they were illegals, but yes, they also deserved a chance at a better life and if that better life waited for them in America, then why shouldn't he help them? In the beginning, it seemed to be the perfect arrangement. Nelson got paid good money to further his good cause that allowed him to do good things for good people down on their luck. The Broadway had been a labor of love, and it had nearly taken everything from him to keep it up and running. State and Federal aid helped, private donations came in when they came in, and they helped, but Nelson had bigger dreams for The Broadway than just a place for people to eat and spend the night. The Broadway was supposed to change lives, to provide a safe place for people to start over from scratch, and give them the resources to begin again. The money these people paid him helped him to accomplish so much. It wasn't until a young girl was gang raped in the basement of one of his row homes that he realized what was truly going on, and by then, it was too late, and Nelson's good intentions, naiveté, and self-absorbed ambition blinded him to the truth and made way for these people to be delivered straight into hell.
“You stalling, Monroe?” the little man asked, sarcastically. “I'm taking my product with me, tonight. You can either take me to her, or we can use your head to bash in the door. How do you want to play it?”
“She's just a kid, man,” Monroe protested. “Look, I've done my part, and all I'm asking is just let me have this favor. Ivy doesn't deserve this. None of them do. But can't you just let her stay here a while longer? I swear, she'll be here when you come back for her, if that's what you decide to do.”
The big man stepped towards Nelson, and he knew what his ultimatum was.
He'd been working up the courage to save Ivy. Nelson should've just let her go, but he knew that if he did, when they came back for her, and if she was gone, they'd kill him. It was his ass he cared more about than hers, and at that moment, Nelson realized that he was a bigger hypocrite than anyone he'd ever known.
He stood slowly. “I'll get her,” he said quietly.
Nelson left through the kitchen and through the back door of The Broadway that led into the alley. He didn't have to turn around to know that the two men weren't far behind.
He was fumbling with the keys in his pocket, when he looked over at the small window and noticed it had been broken.
“Hey!” the big man shouted.
Nelson looked down the alley and recognized three people running away; Fatema, Ivy, and Lazarus. Tears filled his eyes, and he shouted out to them. “Run!”
A shot was fired. Lazarus fell to the ground.
Nelson turned to the two men behind him, and before he could say another word, the large man hit him in the face with a black, gloved hand, and Nelson crumpled to his knees.
In an instant, both ends of the alley were blocked by police cars, and the two men tried to get inside the back door of The Broadway that locked automatically. Nelson still held the keys in his hand.
“You all right?” Baldwin asked, rushing over to Fatema.
She nodded. “Yes,” she said, out of breath, and that's when she noticed Lazarus, lying face up on the ground.
She started to hurry over to him, but Baldwin held her. “Let me go!” she screamed, struggling to get free. “Please!”
Ivy stood shivering in the cold in her bare feet. One of the officers wrapped a blanket around her and put her in the back of a squad car.
“Lazarus!” Fatema fell to her knees next to Lazarus. “Oh, God! Oh, dear God!”
Blood seeped out from underneath where he lay. Lazarus stared up at the sky with a strange smile on his face, and then he looked at Fatema, and held up his hand to her. “Sweet Thang,” he said, and laughed out loud, then coughed uncontrollably.
“Shhhhh,” she cried, squeezing her hand in his. “It's going to be all right.”
Baldwin radioed for an ambulance from behind her.
“I know it is, girl.” Tears slid down the sides of his face, but he wasn't crying. “It's better already.”
“We're going to get you to a hospital,” she told him. “And you're going to be fine.”
Lazarus swallowed. “No, Sweet Thang.” He stared up at the sky again. The snow had just started to fall, and Lazarus breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I did the right thing,” he told her. “This time—I get to go to heaven, too,” Lazarus chuckled, and then he stopped.
 
The police questioned Ivy for what seemed like hours, and then finally took her to the hospital for overnight observation.
Fatema made sure to say goodbye to her before they took her away, though.
“You're safe now, Ivy.” She hugged her. “Nobody's going to hurt you like that again.”
“He kept coming back,” Ivy cried into Fatema's shoulder. “I didn't think he'd come back because I thought he might just be another crazy old bum, but he came back.”
Fatema smiled. “He was a crazy old bum.”
“I think the bastard called himself taking care of her,” Baldwin told Fatema, before he went in to the interrogation room to question Nelson.
She watched from the other side of the two-way mirror, still in shock that he would have anything to do with something like this. Nelson told Baldwin everything about how he got involved in the human trafficking ring. Money made him do it. That was a lame-ass excuse, she thought, listening to him try and justify this craziness. And he gave names, numbers, e-mail addresses. Nelson broke down the whole operation as it related to his part in it, and hearing it made Fatema's skin crawl.
“The Russian girl stayed for a few weeks before they took her away. They filmed her before they did.”
“Filmed her?”
“They—some men came into the basement, and they—they filmed what they did.”
“Who killed Toni, Nelson?” Baldwin finally asked.
Nelson's handsome features melted into a pathetic lump of flesh in that room. And he sobbed like a baby. “It was an accident.”
Fatema bit her bottom lip, and let the tears flow freely for her friend's memory.
“Tell me what happened,” Baldwin probed.
Nelson tried to compose himself enough to explain the events of that night. “She left at her normal time. We were supposed to meet up later at her place, after I left.”
“But what happened?”
He shrugged. “She came back. I had gone to check on—them before I left. I went back to my office and she—she came back.”
“She confronted you?”
Nelson nodded. “I tried to talk to her, and get her to just listen. She wouldn't listen to me, man, she just—”
“She ran?”
“We argued, and yeah. She ran. I just wanted her to calm down—to be still so that I could talk to her. To explain.”
“Are you saying that you killed her, Nelson? Is that what you're telling me?”
Nelson broke down crying. “I loved her. And yeah, man,” he broke down and sobbed. “I did it. I killed her.”
Fatema took a deep breath and held it and then left the precinct without saying a word to anybody.
I Will Love You Anyway
T
he coffee tasted unusually good this morning. Fatema stood on the balcony of her apartment looking out in to the city, thankful that for the first time in a long time, she could look ahead of her instead of at the past.
Drew came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the side of her neck. “How's the coffee?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
She rolled her eyes. “You know it's good.” Fatema took another sip.
The night Nelson was arrested was the night she called him to come over. That had been a week ago, and this time, he'd never left.
“Some things are just right,” he told her that next day. “You and me, Fatty, we're right, and no matter how hard you fight it, there's nothing you can do to change it.”
“Oh, yeah,” she retorted. “And what about what's-her-name?”
“Who?”
She hit him on the arm. “Your girl, Drew. The woman you live with?”
Drew laughed out loud, then winked. “I ain't lived with that woman in three months, Fatema.”
“Quit lying!”
“I'm serious,” he said, sincerely. “Do you honestly think I could live with a woman and be on call for you every hour of the day the way I am?”
“I don't call you like that, Drew.”
“Think about it, baby. In the middle of the night, ‘Drew,' ” he mocked her voice. “ ‘Can you come over?' Early in the morning, afternoon, Saturdays, Sundays, holidays.”
“That's so not true!”
“Oh, it's true, girl. And like a magnet to metal, my dick drags me over here whether I want to come or not, and ain't shit I can do about it. If I was still living with whats-her-name, don't you think she'd have cut my ass by now?”
Fatema couldn't help but laugh. “I would've.”
“Damn right you would've, and so would any woman.”
“Well, why didn't you tell me?”
“What? And let you know I was available? I liked having you think I was with somebody. You look cute jealous.”
“I have never been jealous.”
“Quit playing, Fatema. We're talking serious here, and keeping it real.”
“I'm being real, Drew. I have never been jealous of that woman.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Have not.”
“Have too.”
“Have not.”
The argument went on like that for several minutes before Drew shut her up with a kiss.
He felt good being here, and he was right, though she'd go to her grave first before she'd ever admit it. But the two of them belonged together.
Toni's death was a wake up call. Fatema had spent too much time letting other things get in the way of what was really important in life. Maybe if she'd been a better friend, she could've seen the trouble Toni was headed in and could've stopped it from happening. The two of them had always been able to talk about anything, and Fatema would always feel a sadness in her heart for not being there for her friend when she needed her most. But from Toni and Lazarus, and even Ivy, Fatema learned not to take one second of life for granted. And to pay attention to that small voice inside telling her that Drew was the best thing ever to happen to her.
“I got the laptop all powered up for you, girl,” he said softly in her ear.
Fatema laughed. “You really think I should do it?”
“I do. And from what you said about Todd, I'm sure he'd agree.”
“Todd's just hating because he's not as good at creative writing as I am.”
“Well, the sooner you get started on writing this novel, the sooner you can show him just how good you really are. Got a title yet?”
She hesitated in answering, quietly reflecting on the title of her first book. “Yeah.
Lazarus Rising
.”
Tomorrow's Edge
Victor McGlothin
Also by Victor McGlothin
 
 
Down on My Knees
 
Sinful
 
Ms. Etta's Fast House
 
Borrow Trouble
(with Mary Monroe)
 
 
 
Published by Dafina Books

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