Everything is Everything Book 2 (19 page)

The dark-skinned man wore slacks, leather loafers and a white shirt with a blue tie. He wore no jacket although that only meant he wasn’t wearing it now. He carried a worn leather briefcase that looked like it might have cost a month’s worth of salary for any of the guards on the floor.

The guard unlocked the door to the waiting room and led the big black man into the room.

“Tremont you have fifteen with your visitor.” The guard announced before leaving them alone in the room.

Scotty was handcuffed to the table and he looked at the man. He had been hauled to visitation even though he didn’t receive visitors—He didn’t even see Phonso—didn’t want his brother to inconvenience himself. Phone calls were all he got and he never made them. There was only one person he wanted to talk to and waiting for that moment was enough of an emotional drain.

But the big black man standing before him wasn’t family but Scotty knew him very well.

“Anthony Johnson?” Scotty said.

Anthony smiled and then made to shake Scotty’s hand, which was awkward since he was handcuffed to the table. They managed it anyway.

“Hello, Scotty. I wondered if you would remember me.” His voice had deepened but his toothy smile was just as broad and cheery.

“Why would I forget you?” Scotty replied. Anthony had been the first friend he’d made while attending Walnut Hills High School.

Anthony was also being bussed from Winton Terrace—they were the only two. And although the man was two years younger than Scotty, they had become fast friends.

“What are you doing here?” Scotty asked. “This room is for attorney consultations …”

Anthony took the seat across from Scotty. “Well I’m a second year law student. And the reason I’m here is to talk to you about a program that I’m involved in.”

“You’re not a Jehovah’s Witness are you? Because I’m not interested in changing my religious beliefs.”

Anthony laughed and Scotty could see that despite the long years since their last meeting, Anthony was still a nice guy. He had been lucky. He had gotten out of the ghetto the way Scotty should have--by studying and going on to college.

“No Scotty. I’m not a Witness. But I did come to talk to you about something important. Are you familiar with the Spotlight on Inner City Youth Project?”

Scotty shook his head. “No.”

“I’ll keep it short because we only have a few minutes. Several youths from the inner city have received unfair indictments. Race has often been a driving force in the unfair treatment. Other things that contribute are a prior record. These two things have often times over-shadowed the actual facts of the case and resulted in charges being made when in other circumstances they would have never been raised.”

Scotty frowned. “You mean if I was a middle class white kid I wouldn’t have been convicted of assault?”

“No. I mean that if you were a middle class white kid you would have never been charged. And that is why SICYP was created. It’s to form a spotlight on people like us.”

Scotty stared at Anthony. “Us? I’m a drug dealer. My crimes are real. I’m not like you-“

“We were two kids who had to navigate through our environment. We could have easily been the same person Scotty. I felt the lure. But I also didn’t have a houseful of kids to take care of and a mother who … couldn’t take care of anybody. My parents stayed together and worked to give us a better life. That’s the only difference between us.”

Scotty didn’t speak.

“Look, I’m in a program where second year law student’s have to select a pro bono case to work on. Sometimes they are cold cases; ones that were never solved. But I asked my professor if we could focus on SICYP this year. I showed him your case. If you’ll allow it, we’d like to work on it.”

“A college project? Like for grades?” Scotty thought it sounded crazy and more than a little farfetched. Just because he knew Anthony from a long ago past didn’t mean he would entertain his college class as if his life was nothing more than a project. He wouldn’t get his hopes up. But he also wouldn’t say no.

“Scotty, college students have been instrumental in getting sentences overturned in the past.”

“How many cases has your program overturned?”

Anthony folded his hands together.

“None. But our various programs have helped people with legal services and well … this will be our first time doing something like this. Scotty, we all believe that you got a raw deal. Hell, I knew Donald Miller. I know what he was capable of.”

Scotty frowned. “You two were tight. I never understood that.” He stared at Anthony.

Anthony only smiled.

“Okay.” Scotty finally said. “Yes. You can take my case. What do I need to do?”

Anthony opened his briefcase.

Phonso stared at his brother. Scotty looked different. It had only been six months but it seemed as if he had aged five years. His long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which allowed the white jagged scar that started in the center of his hairline to be plainly in sight.

There was a two-day growth of hair on his cheeks and his light eyes were cold and hard. And while it was obvious that Scotty had lost weight, Phonso could see that he was more muscular than ever. He wore jeans and a neat blue button down shirt with a clean white t-shirt beneath it.

To Phonso Scotty looked nervous. But Phonso understood that. It was the end of June and Vanessa still hadn’t called. His brother was worried and filled with guilt.

“Are you hanging in there, bro?” Phonso asked.

Scotty quickly shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, I’m good.”

“How do you like making license plates?”

Scotty smiled, transforming his face momentarily. Lebanon made the license plates for the state of Ohio. Not everyone was lucky enough to get a job in the tag shop. It paid more than the kitchen or laundry, which were also highly sought after jobs. The kitchen workers ate better and laundry workers got to see more inmates. But Scotty was only interested in the money aspect and for him spending six and a half hours a day working was better than doing nothing and he told his brother this.

“You’re looking good Phonso,” Scotty appraised his brother. “You still making pizza’s?”

Phonso scowled knowing that Scotty was truly interested in knowing whether or not he had gotten back into the drug business.

“I’m still keeping my nose clean but I had to give up the pizza place. The smell of garlic was too hard to cover with my Gucci cologne.”

Scotty laughed.

“I got a job in a distribution center. Factory work ain’t so cool but … it keeps me out of trouble.” Truth is that Phonso was making no where near the four grand a week that he used to make but there was also no chance of him being sent to jail like so many of the crew members.

“Good to know.” He asked about his brothers and sisters and Miss Gloria before turning the conversation to what he really wanted to discuss.

“I’m worried about Vanessa.”

“She’s not a dummy,” Phonso said.

“Everybody needs someone to have their back. Vanessa’s lost everyone, no thanks to me.”

Phonso didn’t disagree.

“I put the word out that I wanted to talk to her. There’s no telling whether or not she really did go off to New York. I talked to her cousin. She said that she hasn’t heard a word from Vanessa since they stopped talking. I called her grandmother and pretended to be a friend from school but the grandmother just said that Vanessa didn’t live there anymore and she had no way of getting in touch with her.”

Scotty didn’t speak for a few moments. “You checked the post office to make sure nothings been forwarded?”

“Yep, just like you asked. You got a letter from the university’s registration office but that’s about it.”

Scotty nodded. “I appreciate it. I know Vanessa’s going to be okay. It’s not that. I just want to … tell her that I’m sorry, that I didn’t know about the baby and that I want her in my life. I want to tell her that I made a mistake and that she will be the star that I know she can be, but that I’m still here for her whenever or if she ever needs me.”

Phonso inhaled a long breath, finally releasing his anger towards his brother. Scotty had been a fool. But looking at him now Phonso understood why he wouldn’t want anyone to see him. He had gone through some tough shit and Phonso didn’t think he wanted to know what all it entailed.

And he had many more years more to go.

“Scotty, you have second thoughts now about your decision to let Vanessa go, but you did it for a good reason. You didn’t want her to put her life on hold while she served your time with you. You knew it would hurt but you did it for a good reason. Now you have to follow through, bro. You are in prison and there is nothing that you can do while you’re here.”

Scotty looked down at the tabletop and nodded. “You’re right.” He knew that Vanessa would take care of herself and their baby and he had to do the same for himself. He looked at Phonso again.

“I’m taking college courses. With this hanging over my head I can’t be a teacher …”

Phonso’s brow shot up. “Just having a degree will get you on the right track. You’ll need that little extra when you get out.”

“Well it’s not like I’m doing anything else.” He never said what he was actually thinking; that he was going to end up working in a fast food restaurant anyways.

But he did enjoy the courses. He enjoyed studying and getting lost in the words from his literature books or the calculations when he was studying mathematics. Sometimes he would look up from his studies and it would be the middle of the night. The college courses helped make his time bearable. For a few hours he at least could stop thinking about his mistakes.

Phonso stayed for another hour and stated that he’d be back in a month and that there was nothing that Scotty could do about it. Scotty didn’t try to pretend that he didn’t look forward to the visit.

“You asleep, son?”

Scotty peeked up from the chessboard at Juan Carlos who smirked at him.

“Quiet. I’m thinking.”

“Ahh. I thought you had retreated into a subliminal world where you and I were cruising the streets of Tijuana.”

Scotty gave him a twisted smile. “I never knew you were so imaginative, JC.”

Juan Carlos looked down at the chessboard. “And I never knew how boring this game is. It’s not like monopoly where there is instant gratification. I mean I know within minutes whether or not I’m going to be a Kingpin. Maybe we should stick to bones.”

Scotty moved his Bishop only because it would put the game in his father’s hands and hopefully quiet him down. Scotty couldn’t lie to himself. He didn’t really care for chess. Maybe if he was playing it with someone else he’d like it better but JC just didn’t have the patience for this.

Scotty was beginning to discover that his father’s only purpose for engaging in board games was just to have a reason to spend one on one time with him.

“Let’s just see what the guys are doing.” Scotty finally said.

“Yep.” Juan Carlos wasted no time sweeping the board piece back into the box.

The two men left the cell and walked down the stairs to the lower level. Juan Carlos belonged to a gang—mostly made up of pimps and hustlers that called themselves The Chulo Seventy-sevens. They were a Hispanic gang that had wanted Scotty as a member. But Scotty chose to remain unaffiliated. He had no hustle—didn’t need one. He had a job that put money on his books, not to mention a father who plied him with food and commissary.

Every night he had dinner with his father who generally cooked for him or some of his other friends. His Dad could use hamburger patties from canteen and mix it with a packet of noodle soup and make a skillet lasagna that was good enough to eat outside of prison. He made brownies and cake and people gathered in his cell to watch sports on his television.

Prison stopped feeling like hard time. His father’s friends first became his acquaintances and then his friends. And though there were plenty of people that Scotty would want to avoid, he had no problems doing so. He was busy with his job, which took up six and a half hours a day, and then there were his college courses, which often took another six hours. And within that time Scotty found that his life had somehow stopped being complicated.

The Seventy-sevens had taken Scotty under their wing, which offered him a form of protection from people eager to recruit a guy that had killed someone with his fists.

Anthony Johnson visited him once every few days in order to collect information before they made a motion with the courts. Scotty began feeling like a journal that Anthony read—learning things about his activities that he had never shared with anyone. And there were times when talking about his past led the two young men into long reveries about their past at Walnut Hills High School and a friendship that ended for all the wrong reasons.

Scotty had released J. Alexander Rosenthal as his attorney because it seemed like a waste of money and effort. Besides why pay Rosenthal when Anthony’s team was doing it all for free.

One day Anthony brought a colleague, a girl that initially looked freaked out by being in prison and by him. Scotty thought that it was something she had better get over if she intended to be a criminal lawyer. Before long, though, the girl couldn’t seem to stop looking at him. Each time she accompanied Anthony the girl watched him with obvious interest. One day after she had packed up to leave Anthony leaned in toward Scotty. The girl had asked more questions about Scotty than about the facts of the case, interested in his good grades and time spent at Walnut Hills High School more than the night of the killing.

“That’s a sure sign that your chances of release are good. Meghan likes you. I mean she really likes you. She keeps asking me questions about you, like back when we were younger.”

Scotty glanced at Meghan’s retreating form. There was nothing about her that interested him. She was petite with dark shoulder length hair and pretty green eyes. But she wasn’t Vanessa. She wasn’t Vanessa’s vulnerability and strength. She wasn’t Vanessa’s spirit or loyalty.

Scotty shook his head. “There’s only one person in my life and I turned her away.”

Anthony paused in gathering his things. “You still haven’t heard from her?”

Scotty shook his head. “She would have had the baby by now.” He looked away into the distance. “Maybe something went wrong with the pregnancy. She was drugged… if something happened to the baby ...” He met Anthony’s eyes. “it would be a loss of everything for her.”

Anthony gave him a grim look.

“Scotty, I’ll see what I can find out.”

Scotty straightened in his seat.

“Can you do that?”

“I got some connections. I’ll see what I can find out.”

The two men shook hands.

“I appreciate that. Look, Vanessa may never forgive me but she’s the only woman I can think about. If I know she and our baby is okay then I can…”

Let it go. Let her go.

Anthony nodded. “I’ll talk to you next week.”

When Anthony and Meghan returned a few days later, the smaller woman marched right up to him and pointed a finger with a manicured tip at him.

“First of all Scotty Tremont, I want you to know that I have no designs on you!”

Scotty looked at the small woman in surprise. “Uh …” then he looked at Anthony who averted his eyes in embarrassment.

“For your information, the only reason I ask so many questions about you is because I want a sense of who we’re dealing with. You’re intelligent, Scotty Tremont. You had some hard knocks. But you also had some opportunities—which you ignored. The question is whether you did so because you want to be a big drug dealer, or maybe because you aren’t as smart as you think you are.”

Scotty’s eyes darkened as he glared at the woman.

“No,” Meghan continued. “You ignored your opportunities because you care about your family.” Her voice softened.

Anthony cleared his throat. “I told you that he wasn’t a dumb ass. Can we get to work now?” Anthony gave Scotty an apologetic look.

Scotty took his seat and Meghan sat opposite him. She removed documents and notes from her briefcase with stiff angry movements. Anthony sighed and took his seat. The three got down to business in uncomfortable silence.

It was a month before Meghan forgave them for figuring out what she had thought she had hidden.

Soon after Anthony returned alone. He had a serious expression on his face.

“Where’s Meghan?” Scotty asked.

“I told her not to come. I want to talk to you about something and Meghan knows nothing about it.” Scotty already knew that it wasn’t going to be good. He also knew that it was about Vanessa.

“Scotty, I got some news about Vanessa.”

Scotty’s head swiveled and his eyes locked onto Anthony.

“I know someone in the police department that was able to trace social security numbers. Her number hit at Lower Manhattan Hospital where she gave birth to boy. But it wasn’t in June, it was in April-“

“April,” Scotty exclaimed. “That’s too soon.” His heart began pounding in his chest. “Is the baby okay?”

“Well he was born too soon. But he was released after three weeks. So … he must be okay. Your son’s name is Matthew Scott Tremont.”

Scotty’s face was etched deeply in joy and pain. Matthew Scott Tremont. His son …

He wanted to ask more questions but the words wouldn’t come. Instead tears spilled from his eyes and Scotty turned away.

“There’s not any more information, at least not yet. When she applies for a job or housing or public assistance we’ll get another hit.” Anthony watched his friend’s anguish and his own heart went out to him. He couldn’t imagine being in Scotty’s position. What would it be like to have Vanessa White only to lose her and their child?

Anthony knew that it would kill him.

It was strange that Vanessa White was still a part of his life. She was the girl that had gotten away, his first crush, his first kiss, the girl that he had dreamed about making a life with away from the ghetto. She would likely never know all the things that he had done to protect her. Only for Donald to still get his hands on her.

Scotty had asked him why he had continued to be friends with the crazy young man. They had an unlikely friendship; a thug and a gifted gentle giant.

Anthony had always been older and wiser than his years. When Anthony had innocently discussed his attraction for Vanessa, Donald had expressed a similar interest in a girl named Yolanda--only his was laced with something that disgusted and frightened the bigger boy. Donald had an angry nature that Anthony had been able to soothe with just accepting his friendship.

There had been times when Anthony had wanted to pull back from the craziness that existed within his friend. But then he would remember a dead little girl named Yolanda and how Donald had really liked her. Anthony would remember the way Donald had once said that she wouldn’t tell him no again …

And then the boy began to like Vanessa. And Anthony decided that it was better if he just stuck close to his ‘friend’. When Donald complained that Vanessa was a stuck up bitch and his interest became dark, Anthony scrambled to divert his attention to someone else—to Scotty, turning him into the focus of Donald’s dislike for being able to charm the girl.

It wasn’t completely untrue. Anthony hadn’t particularly liked the white kid until Walnut Hills. Scotty stood in the middle of the halls one day and Anthony had seen the lost look that he himself often felt being surrounded by people who had money or a nice home.

He reached out to Scotty and found a friend that looked beyond the confines of Winton Terrace and could talk about philosophy—they even created their own philosophical theory called Existential-ghettoization in which the world outside of the ghetto ceases to exist. They looked at Winton Terrace as a planet with its leaders, warriors and commoners.

It was fun to stretch their imagination and it was easy to become friends, especially when Vanessa was a distant memory for them both. And then Scotty changed. His focus moved from school back to the streets. And Anthony forged ahead with his eyes on the prize, weaning himself from his life in the ghetto—which also included Donald Miller.

Anthony had never told anyone that he suspected Donald was responsible for the Yolanda’s murder. He hoped that he was wrong about his friend, but deep down he knew the truth—that Donald Miller was insane and dangerous.

Anthony looked at Scotty who swiped away at his tears and he wished that he’d had the guts to take a baseball bat to Donald’s head the way he had envisioned so many times in his youth.

“I’ll make things right,” he said softly. He had been saying that to himself since hearing about the attack on Vanessa and the way Scotty had ended the life of the attacker with his own fist. He should have never used his influence over Donald to create a dangerous hostility towards the couple. He should have been a force of peace and calm. He’d done them all wrong and he was intent on making it right.