Between Brothers Read online

  “But as a human being, you’ll never be perfect. No one is. Try to keep what we taught you in perspective. I know we’ve instilled in you and your brothers the importance of abstinence before marriage. But no one’s perfect. And unfortunately, in the area of sex, more people have failed than succeeded.”

  Dr. Bailey lowered his voice and leaned in toward the center of the table. “Brandon, if you ask me, the issue is not that you screwed, I mean screwed up with this girl. Look, most people I know, Christian or not, got some diggity, as you kids say, before they got married. Premarital sex is nothing to play with, but if it happens, it’s no different from lying, stealing, cheating. We all fall short! The question is, what are you going to do about it? Is this girl a Christian?”

  Brandon shrugged. “Well, yeah, but—”

  “Then you need to decide if you’re willing to throw away what the two of you have over one issue. Unless she’s stated some ultimatum about sex, I don’t see why that would be necessary. Just my opinion.”

  “Brandon,” his mother said, “this decision is between you and God alone. I think your split with those Disciples, and your aggravation at these confused black women of the nineties, has made you lose sight of what your faith is about. You need to decide for yourself how to handle sex and dating, in a way you can live with. We’ve never acted like sex was an unthinkable thing for you guys to take part in. Who provided you with those safety stashes of condoms, which I’m trusting you used with Monica?” She paused as Brandon’s sheepish grin confirmed her hope. “We just equipped you with what we felt was best, based on our experiences and our faith. Now you need to carve your own path. We’ll love you wherever that path leads you, never forget that.”

  His eyes lighting up as the waiter approached with a tray of piping hot entrees, Dr. Bailey flashed a smile at Brandon. “Your mom said it best, son. Anything we can do for you, we will. But it’s on you from here, okay? Can we continue in this vein once we’ve gotten into our grub?”

  Turning his attention to the meal, Brandon silenced his rumbling stomach and looked appreciatively at his parents. “I guess it’s moments like this that make Terence call us the Cleavers. Thanks for hearing me out.” He grasped his dinner fork. “I’m ready to eat.” As the conversation slowly turned to lighter fare, Brandon decided to enjoy the moment and the company. He could start the hard work of defining himself and his feelings for Monica tomorrow. Until then, he’d leave it in God’s hands—even if he was unsure of exactly what that meant.

  Sitting in the high-backed desk chair in his office at Technotronics, Jerry Wallace wiped his damp brow and ran his fingers over his eyelids. He tapped the flash button on his speakerphone. “Send them in, Marlene.”

  As the oak door swung open, he frowned unconsciously at the two black police officers who filled the doorway. Behind them he could see Terence Davidson’s imposing frame. What were they, teaming up on him? Four years Jerry had invested in Terence, and now that he’d fired the kid for screwing up the board meeting, the boys in blue were invading his office. What were they going to do, charge him with violating some racialpreferences law? You couldn’t fire black people for any reason now? Jerry knew he was no racist, but he was through being told to treat minorities with kid gloves. He stood as the men stepped toward the three chairs opposite his desk. “Look, Officers, I don’t want any trouble. My firing of Terence was based completely on fact—”

  The shorter officer, a lean man with a salt-and-pepper mustache and a thinning head of kinky curls, interrupted Jerry. “Mr. Wallace, we’re not here to charge you with anything. May we have a seat?”

  Meeting Terence’s eyes briefly, Jerry waved toward the seats and returned to his. “Help yourself.”

  “I’m Officer Perkins,” the salt-and-pepper officer continued. “Officer Benson and I met with Terence a couple of days back about some criminal activities that have endangered his life and that of his family, not to mention a treasured community institution in Shaw, the Ellis Center. We’re not really allowed to go into too much detail, as these matters are still under investigation, but when Terence mentioned how his job was affected by all this, we felt an obligation to back up his story.”

  As Jerry’s mouth dropped open in relief, he decided to do the obligatory thing and keep asking questions. He made a point of directing all questions at Terence, who proudly and directly answered every one. The negative stereotypes of black men that had begun to reinvade Jerry’s subconscious began to beat a hasty retreat. Terence wasn’t like all those kids he saw in the news and on TV every night. It was time for Jerry to prepare his own explanations. People were sure to ask why he was rehiring an intern he’d just fired.

  Later that evening Annabelle Simmons answered the shrill ring of her phone as she lay prostrate on the couch in her finished basement. “This is Annabelle.”

  “Ms. Simmons, this is Terence Davidson.”

  Twirling a piece of her weave in her right hand, Ms. Simmons smiled to herself. “Terence, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you just yet.”

  Pacing the floor of his bedroom like a man possessed, Terence spat out his response. “I’m puttin’ you on notice, Ms. Simmons. The Terence Davidson Love Train has left your station. I’ve been through enough the last few weeks. I could care less if you have me declared financially ineligible. You see, I’m Terence Davidson. I’ve already overcome obstacles that would make most spoiled Highland brats roll over and play dead. If I could come this far, I can survive a semester off, if need be. Hell, that’ll give me time to work full-time at Technotronics and pay off my tuition.”

  Annabelle sat forward, perched nervously on the edge of her plaid couch. “Now, Terence, you’re not making sense, dear. I’ve done a lot for you. Don’t think you can just throw me away—”

  “We’re not even gon’ talk about what you’ve done to me, Ms. Simmons. My guess is Highland’s officers know damn well about your arrangements with students, and I don’t have time to try to get you fired anyway. I got my own concerns. Let’s just go our separate ways.”

  “Terence, what do you expect me to do about your unpaid bills?”

  Terence bopped his head up and down to the slamming beat of L.L. Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out.” “Ms. Simmons, I’d expect you to do whatever you would have done if I’d visited you one last time. I’ll pay my bill off as early as possible next year—all of my summer earnings will go straight to Highland. But that’s it! No more deals, no nothin’. I’m out!” With that, Terence was gone.

  Smiling to herself, Annabelle dropped her phone and lay back on the couch. He’d finally stood up for himself. She hoped this wouldn’t prove to be a pattern among her “visitors.” Sighing, she reminded herself to check her list of students with overdue accounts tomorrow.

  There was always someone else willing to pay any price to stay in school.

  CHAPTER 31

  . . . . . . . . . . . .

  CRIME DON’T PAY

  It was an unusually humid May morning this Tuesday, and as the sun illuminated the sky overhead, Rolly Orange was swimming in a sea of his own perspiration, his dashiki almost soaked through. It was nine o’clock, and the rededication ceremony was just two days away. He wanted desperately to believe that things weren’t falling apart, despite clues telling him otherwise.

  He had spent the better part of last night begging Nico Lane for his life. When the news of Buzz Eldridge’s death hit the papers, Rolly had been confused; Nico had been livid. It had completely eclipsed Rolly’s positive news about the contributions, which had been fully delivered to Tracy Spears yesterday afternoon. Spears was planning to hold the money for a few days, while Rolly and Nico agreed on how to split it. With Eldridge out of the picture, there was one less person to share with, but now the battle was directly between Orange and Nico, odds that Rolly didn’t particularly like. He was not afraid of the Kid, but he wasn’t stupid either. What Nico Lane wanted, Nico Lane got.

  They had argued over whether Eldridge’s death ha
d been self-inflicted. “He was a pussy,” Nico had steamed, “an over-the-hill dinosaur. I don’t know why I ever agreed to work with him. He wasn’t committed to seeing Ellis go under. He was just trying to hedge his bets. Damn!”

  Rolly had given Eldridge a bit of credit by comparison, not wanting to mention the vengeful call he’d received from Buzz hours before his death. “The newspaper accounts said he was up on that floor inspecting some work. He had apparently gone up without the construction supervisor. He wasn’t in the best of health, Nico. It may have been a genuine accident.”

  Nico had glared at Rolly like a disgusted parent. “Believe what you want. We’ve got work to do.”

  By the time Orange emerged from Nico’s condo earlier this morning, they had made arrangements, using Nico’s hired hands, to ransack Eldridge’s office for potential evidence and destroy any trail that could lead back their way. They were fortunate that the media had treated the incident as an accident, pending further investigations. They were counting on that to keep police from digging too deeply into any of Buzz’s involvements with Ellis or the Develcorp project. The one loss they had to concede was the pressure they had counted on from the banks. Eldridge had been responsible for using his contacts with local bankers to convince them to call Ellis’s loans this week. Now that he was gone, to go behind him and mess with the moneymen would only stir unnecessary suspicion. They decided it was best to count on the theft of the contributions; that blow would embarrass Sheryl out of office and close the center in a matter of days.

  Wiping his moist brow, Orange turned the key in the lock of his flimsy office door, a wooden rectangle with a small glass pane. The house of cards he and his conspirators had built was off balance, but there was no reason that they couldn’t keep it standing a few more days. Nico had already given him the money to buy his one-way ticket to the Cayman Islands, and he had several suitcases packed, just waiting for Friday to come. Sure, he was still having occasional nightmares about how all of this would affect Sheryl, not to mention some of the cherubic children and at-risk teens he passed in the halls each day. But he had come too far to turn back now. He couldn’t afford to end up like Buzz Eldridge; his only hope of enjoying life would be to start fresh, equipped with enough cash to finance some new ventures.

  As he shoved open the door and cleared a path to his peeling wooden desk, his phone rang. At this hour he knew who it was. He lumbered toward the phone and grabbed the receiver, opening his dusty window blinds as he answered. “Rolly Orange.”

  “Rolly, good morning.” Sheryl’s voice was full of optimism. She clearly had no clue. “How are you today?”

  “Oh, I’ve been better. Just a little tired, is all. What’s up?”

  “Well, I was just wondering if you could let me know when our friend Mr. Spears starts investing the cash contributions. I’m very excited to follow the investments myself, even started picking up The Wall Street Journal. Have you talked to him yet today?”

  Orange placed a hand on his right hip. What did she think, Spears was going to double the money in twentyfour hours? “Uh, no, Sheryl, the exchange is just now opening. He’s probably sizing up initial vehicles still. Investment analysis can be a painstaking process. But I’m sure he should have some investments made by Friday. I’ll definitely call him today, but I doubt if I’ll have anything to report until tomorrow.”

  “Oh, well, okay. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy in the meantime. I’m getting letters out to all of our vendors and suppliers, assuring them that we’ll be able to pay off balances within the next three months. I’m also renegotiating some of the bills for this fall’s programs, promising to get some checks out as soon as possible. Now that the Highland contributions have been invested, we can put future monies directly toward operating expenses. I’ve got a feeling things are going to turn around, Rolly.”

  You’re too smart to be that naïve, he thought. “Hopefully so, Sheryl, hopefully so. Look, I better get with the accounting clerks and review April’s numbers. Let’s do lunch, okay?”

  Before he had said good-bye, he was interrupted by the smack of a booted foot against his door. As the door hurtled open, glass shattering against the wall, Nico Lane burst across the threshold, dressed in a black Fila sweat suit that rippled from the bulging and twitching of his muscles. “Orange, have you lost your damn mind?”

  His eyes frozen with horror, Orange was unable to free his gaze from Lane’s steely stare. “Uh, Sh-Sheryl, let me call you back, okay? I got a visitor. I think he’s a vendor upset about a financial matter.”

  Sheryl’s voice sounded like she was frowning. “Well, do you want me to stop by?”

  “No, no, no. That won’t be necessary. Let me get back to you.” Slamming the phone down, Orange looked at Nico, his eyes darting between the enraged dealer and the shattered office door. “We can’t talk here, Nico.” His voice was a whisper. “What, what the hell are you doing?”

  Bounding forward, Nico backed Orange up against the wall behind the desk, pinning his large frame. “You think I’m that stupid, Rolly? Do you really? Do you know who I am? I want you to tell me why I got a call, not one hour ago, from a reporter with the Times, claiming he has a copy of a suicide note from Eldridge!” “A what? A suicide note? Buzz?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t know. Why does this reporter claim Eldridge lost it when he heard you ratted us out to those Highland students? Supposedly he had proof that you were cooperating with D.C.’s finest, Rolly! Buzz flipped out, couldn’t take it. But Rolly, I’m not Buzz Eldridge. If you’ve given me up, your time is real short. Do you understand me?”

  The rage pent up within him after so many weeks of torture from this playground bully exploded, and before Orange realized what he was doing he had grabbed Nico by his jacket collar and sent him hurtling back to the wall opposite his desk, where the dealer stumbled and fell to his knees. “I’ve had enough of you,” he spat out. “Do you understand me, you little asshole? I told you before, if you wanna make good on your threats, do it now! I ain’t afraid of you! I have never, ever sold you or Eldridge out! Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?” Nico jumped to his feet, shaking off the impact of the attack. The murderous glint still wavered in his eyes, but he seemed too shaken by Orange’s show of spine to continue the fight. “Why would I still be here if I was cooperating with the authorities, huh? Stop and think before you go charging off like a bull in heat! Now get out of here before you ruin everything!”

  The look of calm on Nico’s face chilled Orange to the bone. “Oh, I’m getting out of here, Rolly, that’s for sure. I’m committed to this plan, so I’ll wait you out. But I don’t need to threaten you anymore. Regardless of what you have or haven’t done, you just signed your death warrant. You know it and so do I. We’ll settle up Friday. In the meantime, I’m watching you.” Lane formed the fingers of his right hand into a make-believe gun, pointing it at Orange. “I’m watching you,” he said again before mimicking the firing of a shot and speeding out of the office, the trail of his deep laughter permeating the hallway.

  As Orange collapsed into his chair, the buzz of his phone jolted him again. “Rolly, uh, Orange.”

  Sheryl was clearly concerned. “Rolly, is everything okay?”

  “Um, yeah, don’t worry about it. It was a personal matter, Sheryl. I’ll handle it.” He hoped he sounded convincing.

  “All right,” Sheryl said. “Look, let’s still do lunch. I’ll call you around noon.” As she hung up her phone, she went to her window and looked over the stone staircase that led up to the main entrance of Ellis Center. Within seconds the main door swung open violently, and the hot-tempered intruder emerged. As Sheryl took in the fleeting sight of the striking young mulatto who had just threatened her business manager, her heart began to burn with recognition. She had told Nico never to show his face around Ellis again. She didn’t like it, not one bit.

  An hour later Brandon bounded down the stairs from his bedroom and slid into the living room, his cordless
phone in his right hand. “Yo, does anybody want to guess who just rang me up?” Larry, Terence, and O. J., who had just arrived home from the hospital, looked up from their positions on the floor, where they were reviewing strategy. “Sheryl’s concerned, brothers,” Brandon said. “She asked my opinion, actually our opinion, on Rolly Orange and the whole concept of stock market and futures investing. She sounds suspicious of him. Nico must have really gone off.”

  Larry slapped the knee of his Guess jeans. “So you gave Nico a taste of his own medicine! He impersonated a church member to poor Keesa, you convinced him you were a reporter with the Times. Brilliant!”

  Crossing his arms in joy, Brandon grinned. “Well, all I had to do was stick a match over the flame of distrust between those two. I think Nico’s been looking for an excuse to take Orange out and keep the money for himself. Anyway, Sheryl didn’t elaborate, but she’s clearly out of sorts about Nico’s appearance at the center.”

  “Well all right!” Terence jumped to his feet. “What’s she gonna do?”

  “Well, I gave her the lowdown. I reminded her of the risky nature of investing and suggested the contributions be placed into conservative investments, now that they’re approaching a more significant level. I also mentioned some of Larry’s suggestions about refinancing options, so they can pay some or all their bills now and go on a payment plan to pay off their balances. I think she’s gonna pull the money back from Spears.”

  O. J. knew enough now to appreciate the significance of this fact. “Praise God! What’s she gonna do about Orange’s association with that dealer?”

  “She’s playing her cards close to the vest on that one. I don’t think she’s tryin’ to take Nico on—she’s a little too smart for that. She sounded like she’s going to spend the next couple of days digging through Orange’s office. I did share our opinions about Mr. Orange, and I told her I’d drop off the little packet of info Larry picked up at Buzz Eldridge’s office, along with those articles on Eldridge’s lust for the Develcorp and riverfront projects. That should connect the rest of the dots for her.”