Between Brothers Read online

  Standing and grabbing his tray, Terence reached out with his left hand and popped Brandon on the shoulder. “Brother man, you are one of the few righteous folk I can relate to. But you’ve been dreaming of Monica since you stepped foot on Highland’s campus. You’d be crazy not to investigate the possibilities there before you leave this place. You go, boy! But I do expect a call if you find yourself in a sexual situation, young man. If you need ’em, I can bring a box of Trojans over in a flash. Can’t have you knockin’ Monica up on a second date!”

  “You are too funny,” Brandon said, an amused scowl crossing his face. “I’ve faced sexual temptation down before. I’ll be all right. Look, you have a good day of work. See you at home tonight.”

  As Brandon left the cafeteria, Terence emptied his tray into a nearby trash can. Smoothing his tie and checking the look of his rumpled powder blue dress shirt in a window, he strode out of the cafeteria and headed for the escalator at the center of the lobby. He had to meet with Jerry Wallace promptly at eight-thirty, to review the Reveal project’s status. Jerry was counting on Terence’s summary to serve as his guide when he met with the board of directors later today. He knew he had fifteen minutes before he was due at Jerry’s office, but he wanted to be early, so he increased the pace of his long steps.

  He was only inches from the escalator when a loud voice shook his insides.

  “Terence! Yo nigga!”

  Gritting his teeth, Terence whirled around and faced the young man who stood a few feet away, not far from the central security desk. He was almost Terence’s mirror image, but an inch shorter and several pounds lighter. The only other difference was his attire, a baggy leather Adidas sweat suit. Terence could feel the curious stares of the mostly white crowd that surrounded them.

  One of Terence’s worst nightmares had come true. Aaron “Biggie” Davidson had invaded his place of work.

  Moving toward his brother with the speed of lightning, Terence grabbed Biggie’s arm and held it tightly. “Biggie, you gonna shut your damn mouth this minute,” he whispered hoarsely. “You gonna turn around and walk out of here with me. Whatever the hell brought you here will have to wait until we get out of this lobby.” Freezing his brother with a steely stare, Terence led him out the revolving door of the lobby and walked him around to the west side of the building.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Terence let his brother’s arm go and stepped back far enough to get a clear look at him. “What are you, using your own drugs again? I guess seein’ the effect crack has on your clients ain’t enough to wake your ass up to reality, huh?”

  “T, I can explain,” Biggie pleaded, sweat beading across his forehead. “I never wanted to have to show up at ya place of bidness, nigga, but I had no choice. I got over to your crib too late to catch you this morning, but I called Granny and got your work address. Hell, I had to catch you before you made it up the escalator!”

  Terence’s heart leaped as he realized Granny would never willingly give Biggie his work address; she believed in keeping them separated as much as possible. Biggie better not have threatened her again. He brushed aside that wrinkle long enough to get an explanation. “Very thoughtful, Biggie. Why in the world would you bring your triflin’ ass into this part of town anyway?”

  “I-I had no choice, T. My life is in danger, man, I don’t know what else to say.” The pleading in Biggie’s eyes took Terence back to their days as children.

  “Your life has been in danger for as long as I can remember, Biggie, for two reasons. First, you place yourself in jeopardy every time you take drugs from those big dealers and sell them to those suburban clients of yours.”

  Clearly impatient with his brother’s sermon, Biggie flailed his arms wildly. “Look, I ain’t got time for this now, T—”

  Terence thrust a forefinger into the center of his brother’s chest. “Second, you know you take your life in your hands every time you bother Granny. If you ever hurt her again, I’ll kill you myself. So don’t act like your life being in danger is anything new. Now tell me what the hell’s goin’ on.”

  “T, look, uh, I’m really up against it this time. And I ain’t figured out why, but my boss wants to hip you to it. They threatened your life if I didn’t let ’em talk to you, man! Will you listen—”

  “Biggie!” A loud voice from across the street startled both brothers. Turning to face the street, Terence saw a fair-skinned man with narrow eyes and a thick head of hair pulled back into a ponytail. Draped in an aura of impatient arrogance, the man leaned against the side of a gleaming white Mercedes, his arms crossed. Childhood memories came rushing back to Terence as he recognized Nico Lane.

  Terence began to dance in place, balling his fists. “What the—Biggie, why is he here, what is this? You’re workin’ with Nico, again?”

  “Terence, why don’t you prolong both your and Biggie’s lives by continuing this conversation in my car?” Nico jerked his head back toward the car, which was parked in front of the Hard Rock Cafe. “Come on, there’s plenty of room.”

  Terence knew a demand when he heard it, and he knew Nico Lane made good on all threats. As Terence climbed into the backseat of the luxury car with Nico, Biggie slid into the front seat beside the driver.

  Nico leaned back against the leather cushions of his seat and lit a fat cigar. “Bobo, get us out of here. Let’s tool onto 395 South and roll through some of scenic northern Virginia, shall we?” As the massive, mute driver put the car into gear, Terence listened with confusion to the music playing over the speakers.

  “Excuse me, is that classical music?”

  Settling back in his seat like a proud lion who had cornered his prey, Nico looked Terence up and down before smiling lazily. “That it is, my man. Beethoven’s Third Symphony, one of my favorites. What did you expect, N.W.A. or Too Short?”

  Trying to hold his peace as the Mercedes roared through the tunnel leading to the expressway, Terence crossed his arms impatiently. “What you listen to is your business. What you want with me?”

  Nico remained in his reclined position, barely making eye contact with Terence. “Terence, I am not a monster, let’s get that straight right now. I’m just a product of the hood, like you. I make my own way, understand? I’ll never be one of those homeless, out-of-work, welfaresiphoning losers that we all grew up around. Oh, I know you look at me and see a drug dealer, a bad guy. But I’m not a bad guy, Terence. Very little, if any, of my product gets used by the folk in Shaw or LeDroit, for that matter. I make my highest margins on customers who can afford to pay top dollar for the crack and coke. Who do you think that is?”

  Terence could do nothing but stare blankly at his captor.

  Nico smiled. “Sure ain’t none of these poor-ass niggers up in D.C. The suburbs of Virginia and Maryland are my market, man. And you can guess the color of most of my customer base. I service politicians, businessmen, doctors, teachers, and plenty of attorneys. I’m their dirty little secret. Those ‘trips to the store’ they tell their families about always seem to land them right down in my hood, paying me top dollar for the good stuff. They think of themselves as recreational users, but somehow they keep coming back, right on schedule. As far as I’m concerned, that makes them habitual, which translates to permanent revenue for my business.”

  Knowing he was out of his turf but unable to stomach Nico’s monologue any longer, Terence let loose. “That’s all good and well, now do you wanna tell me why you’re makin’ me miss a very important business meeting?”

  “You have no idea, do you?” Nico suddenly leaned in Terence’s direction, menace filling his voice. “Your little business meeting ain’t shit compared to what I got you here for! That company ain’t trying to put any real money in your pocket, boy! If they were, you wouldn’t still be begging Highland to let you stay in school. What a loser. That’s another topic altogether. You’re here because I am going to kill your brother if he does not pay his debts to me by the end of this month.” Nico’s face spread i
n a wide smile as the first look of shock filled Terence’s eyes.

  “Well, maybe that’s too harsh. I won’t kill Biggie. Bobo here or one of my other associates will. But I’ll order it, so it’d be the same as if I did it. Here’s the bottom line, Terence: Biggie has accepted about thirty thousand dollars’ worth of product from me, and then either lost it or used it himself. Now, I normally don’t stand for that at all, Terence. Normally his ass’d be cold right now. But I think so highly of you, as his former father figure and all, I wanted to give you a chance to save his life, maybe even rehabilitate him someday.”

  Feeling his underarms grow gummy, Terence put a respectful tone to his voice. “If you know anything about me, Nico, you know I don’t have the money to support myself, much less pay a debt like that. What you want me to do, man?”

  From the passenger seat, Biggie tried to help his brother out. “Terence, go easy, nigga. You got to show Nico respect.”

  Nico glanced at the front seat. “Biggie, you just sit still and keep your mouth shut. Terence and I gon’ work this out, all right?” He popped Biggie on the back of the head with an open hand before continuing. “Terence, I need your help, man, something real simple. I can’t go into detail, but I believe that the Ellis Community Center, which I know you’re involved in, is on its last legs. I admit it served the community well in the past, but this is a new day, the day of Nico Lane. My business requires young people in the neighborhood who will push my product. If Ellis keeps clouding kids’ heads with the notion that my profession is evil, how am I gonna keep my labor costs down? I can’t be going all over town and into the suburbs recruiting dealers. Those spoiled middleclass brats want too much money. Kid from the projects gets psyched over a few hundred a week. I take all profits, see; I’m in this business to live large.

  “The center has to go,” Nico continued. “It’s entirely jacked up anyway. I hear that Rolly Orange character has mismanaged shit to the point where Ellis’s banks will be foreclosing on them any day.”

  Terence’s eyes danced desperately over the glittery waters of the Potomac River, his mind racing. Why was Nico making such a big deal out of Ellis? Granted, Ellis’s purpose ran counter to the aims of a drug dealer, but was it really that serious? And how did he know details of its finances? “How do you think I could shut down the center? I don’t have any power there.”

  “Ah, Terence, don’t give me that. You’re a top student, a star engineer. Don’t tell me you can’t figure out a way to get rid of those contributions the center is hoping will save its ass. Why, I’ll bet if you worked on your boys, they’d free those funds up for Rolly Orange to invest them. And you’ve probably already figured out that his incompetent ass will lose the money, right? Suppose you did that, or planted a few items in Sheryl Gibson’s office for me, the type of stuff The Washington Post would find real interesting? You know, Terence, I’ve got a number in my mind, and it corresponds to the amount of money I’d pay someone who could do those things for me. You wanna hear the number?”

  His heart burning with rage, Terence shut his eyes. “What’s the number?”

  “The thirty thou that would save Biggie’s life, at least as it relates to me, and another thirty thou that would probably cover the rest of your Highland tuition. You might need that after you lose your job at Technotronics today.”

  The last sentence turned the blood in Terence’s veins to ice. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “Don’t worry, Terence. We all know black folk in corporate America are last hired, first fired. I doubt that Jerry Wallace will appreciate the fact that you won’t show up at work until after lunch today, by which time you will have thoroughly embarrassed his pasty ass. Gonna be hard for him to give his opinions on the Reveal project when you never briefed him this morning!”

  Terence wanted to lunge at the gangster, reach across the seat and strangle him until his irreverent threats were silenced for good. He’d have done it, too, if not for the glimpse he’d had of the handgun lodged in the leather holster under Nico’s coat. He answered in a shaking, squeaky baritone. “You can’t expect me to give you an answer immediately, Nico. I can’t sit by and have my brother jacked up, but you’re asking me to betray my friends and an organization I respect a great deal. I’m gonna need some time.” Terence hoped his voice didn’t betray the rumble of fear and rage contorting his insides.

  “Bobo, let’s go on out to Potomac Mills and get Terence a gift for his service to us,” Nico said as the driver neared Crystal City. “Terence, we’ll eat lunch out there and then drop you off at work for your pink slip. You’ll have until nine o’clock next Saturday morning to give me an answer. If I get the wrong answer, you’ll be reading Biggie’s obituary on Sunday.” Tired of conversation, Nico slapped Biggie, who had fallen asleep, in the back of the head. “Biggie, put in that Herb Alpert CD, please. We’ll ride in silence from here on.”

  As the Mercedes sped farther south into Virginia, Terence began to lose all feeling in his body. The numbing sensation rippled rapidly from his feet, through his legs, and into his heart, where it choked back his ability to breathe. This morning his biggest concerns had been the Reveal project, his future with Lisa, and what was happening at Ellis. Now he’d been plunged back into the very world he had worked so hard to escape. As he did in every time of crisis, he felt an internal stirring, a desperate longing still unfulfilled. More than ever, he needed a compass.

  CHAPTER 24

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  ONLY HUMAN

  Buzz Eldridge fingered a crystal globe sketched with the shape of the seven continents as he reclined in his leather lounge chair. A feeling of calm seeped through him as he stared out the picture window of his downtown office. It had been almost two weeks since the Whitaker kid had been ambushed at his campaign debate, and Mr. Hollings, the private investigator, reported that the boy was scrambling left and right trying to clear his name. As expected, Whitaker hadn’t been on so much as one fundraising call for Ellis Center since. On top of that good news, the Davidson kid had all but promised to put the Highland kids’ money into Rolly Orange’s hands. The plan was definitely coming together.

  Now Eldridge had to help drive the final nail into the coffin. They weren’t worried about the Bailey kid; one lone student was no threat.

  O. J. Peters wouldn’t be a problem either. Eldridge wheezed in amusement as he held the photographs Mr. Hollings had delivered last night. The first few were almost pornographic; apparently Hollings’s surveillance equipment was state-of-the-art. How had he picked up such a clear picture of Peters’s romps with his pastor’s daughter, from outside the bedroom window? Peters obviously wasn’t too careful about closing his drapes all the way. Oh, well. As amusing as Eldridge found the photos, he was most interested in Pastor Grier’s reaction. Hollings had placed prints of these same photos in the mail to Grier yesterday. Even though Eldridge had held aside the most revealing photos out of respect, he knew Grier would have no choice but to put Peters out of commission when he saw this handiwork. That would be three down, and one nonthreatening boy to go. Game, set, match. Ellis Center’s land would soon be his.

  Brandon sat on a secluded bench in the Just Quadrangle, down the hill from the main yard of the campus. He could tell, from the boom of house music and idle chatter making its way over the hill, that the yard was packed. Everyone was thanking God it was Friday.

  His world was going a little crazy lately. First there had been the unexpected attack on Larry at the first speakout. Larry had been so busy clearing his reputation and reviving his campaign since that he hadn’t raised money for Ellis in weeks. On top of that, now Terence was shamming on his responsibilities regarding Ellis. It was clear he hadn’t been keeping up with the Nation of Islam, or the other donors he was supposed to have called. And the brother wasn’t exactly eager to explain himself. Time was growing short to shore up Ellis’s base of donations, and the flood of money had slowed to a frightening trickle. Brandon checked his
watch, readying himself for his meeting with the Disciples of Christ. They’d promised him an answer about Ellis’s support today. He hoped they’d be one of the center’s saviors.

  Despite these problems, Brandon’s mind was really most occupied with another subject: Monica. When they went their separate ways, he’d have to work hard to act like his nose wasn’t wide open. But darn it if he wasn’t hooked on Monica Simone. They had been out five times in less than two weeks, since their outing to Chappy’s, in addition to talking on the phone every day. They’d done movies, jazz clubs, restaurants. All that, and they still hadn’t run out of subjects to exhaust or differences to explore.

  Brandon knew he was going to have to pray hard to forget Monica when their time together ended. It was all he could do to banish the sensual curve of her lips and the captivating glint of her large brown eyes from his mind, whether he was in the midst of Bible study, fundraising for Ellis, or studying for his zoology final. He remembered now why he used to steer clear of sisters with Monica’s style and sensuality. In the presence of a woman who looked like she should be the love interest in a Babyface video, even a disciplined choirboy could lose his mind.

  On top of that, the letter he had just opened was rocking his world.

  Tara had edged up to him as they walked out of the zoology final and slipped him the folded sheet of paper as if it was a vial of crack. “Brandon, you need to read this. If you have questions, get them to me through Bobby. I’m looking out for you and Monica both.” She had burst up the steps and out onto the quadrangle before Brandon could get any more explanation.

  His eyes narrowed, and his heart began to beat like a bass drum as he read Tara’s flowery handwriting.

  If you ever tell Monica I shared this with you, I will deny it until the day I die. And we both know who she’ll believe, so don’t even think of confronting her about this. Wait until she decides to bring it up, if ever.