Gate Wide Open (9 page)

“Got me another one,” I said to myself.
Once again, this shit is too easy.
I made my way to the bathroom and showered.

I got dressed and made my way to my car. I couldn't believe he would trust me this fast—money, keys, passwords, all of it in record time. I was like fine wine. Getting better with age.

Wallace had left me four grand on the nightstand. I almost felt like a whore.
Nah. Whores don't get paid this good. And they damn sure don't look this good.

Before I left I noticed the duffle bag he'd brought in still in the same place where he'd left it when we came in. I was tempted to check its contents, but my better judgment told me to leave it be. I wasn't nobody's dummy. Wallace's ass could be recording my every movement. And this could be a test to see if I was trustworthy or not.
It would behoove me to be content with what I have for now. I'm sure there would be other times when I could get more money out of him.

I made my way toward my home in a hurry because I knew my cats needed to be fed. I also needed to call Carl and check in with him, just to keep him happy. My job was never done.

A Pleasant Surprise
November 8
^th
, 2018, 12:34
P.M.

I guess I was supposed to be sad and distraught right about now but I just couldn't get to that place yet. I embraced my mom tightly in the middle of my dad's grotesque apartment. The news of his death had hit her hard. I, on the other hand, was in another place. I was kind of glad he was gone. I felt like a burden had been lifted off of me.

“It's gonna be okay, Mom,” I said, looking at her in the face. Tears continued to stream down her face. She shook with unrecognized emotion as I held her as tightly as I could. My mom had forgiven my father a lot faster than I did. If I did. I still didn't know. I didn't know how or why she forgave him after all he put us through.

I had called in a favor to the police chief of Baltimore City, and he granted me permission, but under police surveillance only. The police didn't allow us to touch anything, but from the looks of the place, I can say that my father was a total slob. He must have totally fell off after my mom put him out.

When we first came in, we went into the bedroom, which was the scene of the crime. My mom altogether lost it as she saw blood splattered on the walls. She immediately ran out of the room crying and hollering. The only reason we were in the apartment was because my mom and I both wanted to see the condition my father was living in. She really hadn't seen him in the ten years they had been separated.

I told my mom to go stand in the hallway and wait until I got there. I stayed around just to get a better look at the crime scene. Being a criminal lawyer, I knew a little about what to look for in a crime scene.

I was interrupted by the phone ringing.
Ring, ring, ring!

“Hello,” I said, wondering who was calling for my father.

“Hey, Shawn,” James said with glee in his voice “What a pleasant surprise. I didn't expect to hear from you. Especially at your father's house.”

“Muthafucka, you ain't gonna get away with this shit, you hear me!”

“Shawn, baby, what are you talking about?” he said, confusion in his voice.

James was playing dumb, and I knew it.

“Look, bastard, stop calling me baby. And you know what the fuck I'm talking about, bitch.”

“Shawn, I'm not going to be too many more of your bitches, okay,” he said, losing his cool as well. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My father is dead, muthafucka, and I know you had something to do with it.” I was heated, but not about my father's death. It seemed like whenever this bastard popped up, he brought some drama with him, and I was simply tired of his shit.

“What?” he said, like this was the first he had heard of this news. “Your father ain't dead. I was just with him the other day. And, besides, I would have heard about it because…”

“James, why would I be lying about some serious shit like this?” I was now pacing the living room floor with one of my hands on my hip. “So you saying you didn't have anything to do with my father's death?”

“Shawn, you ain't talking to no damn dummy. I would have to be one stupid ass to be calling the house of a man that I murdered. Give me some kind of credit. Damn!”

“All I am saying is, you better have a solid-ass alibi for last night, because I will be sure to mention your name to the police.” I was now smiling because I knew I had him where I wanted him, for a change. He wasn't talking, but I was sure he was searching his mind for one that I knew he didn't have.

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he said with confidence. “And the next time we talk, please be ready to apologize.”

“Whatever, man.”

“Whatever too, Shawn!” he snapped back. “Do whatever! Just spell my name right, bitch!”
Click!

I was steaming mad, but nevertheless, I exited my father's apartment, consoled my mom once again, and then we made our way down to the car so I could drive her home.

“You okay, baby?” she asked as I got in and buckled my seatbelt.

I'd coached myself on not letting my emotions show when I got to the car, but she was my mom. And mothers could tell when something was wrong with their children even when we try our hardest to hide it and keep our heads held high.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, placing the car in drive and pulling off. “I'm just fine.”

“Shawn, baby,” she patted me on the leg as we were stopped at a light. “You know it's all right to cry, son.”

“I know, Ma.” I wouldn't even turn my head to look at her in the face, for I knew if I did, I surely would break down in the car. She'd always had that effect on me. “I'll be all right.”

“Yes, you will, son,” she said as she reached for the volume button on the radio and turned it up.

“Goin' up Yonder” by Tramaine Hawkins was playing, and she hummed and rocked as we drove up Route 40, headed toward her house.

After I dropped my mom back off home, I made my way back downtown to the Baltimore City Central District Police Precinct to look at the pictures of the crime scene. I checked in my credentials at the front desk, where the detective on the case met me. He escorted me to his office to begin filling me in on my father's murder.

We entered his office, and I sat down across from this burly, black man that had to be around the same age as me. He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, and began to speak.

“Well, Mr. Black, I first want to convey my condolences for the death of your father. I know this won't be easy to talk about, but I need any information you can give me on the people or person that may have wanted to harm your father.”

“Well,” I said, hesitating a little, “my father did have a lover that was living with him. I don't think he killed him, but he may know who did.” Even after all that James put me through, I still felt a little sorry for him.

“Oh, really,” the detective said, now sitting in straight posture, giving me his full attention.

“His name is James Park. I don't know where he lives now, but I know he does still live here in Baltimore,” I said, now smiling a little. “Oh, and he does have a record, so that should make it easier too.”

“Yes, indeed. That would greatly help.”

“Is there any way I could see the pictures of the crime scene?”

“Look, it's against procedure to let anyone this close to the victim see these pictures, but I will in this case. He handed me the case folder that held the pictures and other evidence pertaining to the case.

I then leaned back in my chair and proceeded to review the snapshots of my father's gruesome murder. The first picture almost knocked me out of my chair. To say that my father's body had been totally mutilated would be an understatement. The murderer had carved the word
faggot
into his chest.

The second picture showed the disfigurement of his face. His lips and eye lids looked like they were cut off with a scissors of some sort. The next picture showed a bat pushed far up his anal cavity.

I turned away slightly as my stomach churned with nausea from the next photo, which showed his genital area had been cut clean from his body and was hanging from the ceiling like a mistletoe ornament. This was definitely going to be a closed-casket funeral.

I returned the folder to the detective and made my way out of the precinct and disturbingly wandered home, pulling over a few times mid-trip to throw up.

The pictures flashed in and out of my head as I made the trip home. As bad as my father was, he still didn't deserve to die in such a manner. I didn't know if James had anything to do with it, but it was all going to come out in the end.

All-About-Me Syndrome
November 11
^th
, 2018, 5:30
P.M.

The news of my grandfather being murdered didn't bother me one bit. I was in my own world and could care less about his wrinkled, old ass. I was sixteen, and I had my own life to live. He lived his shit, and I was definitely going to live mine.

The funeral was going to be in two days, and I was wracking my brain, trying to find an excuse to get out of going to it. Tony and I had plans for that day, so I wasn't trying to hear no shit about no old dude's life. People crying and carrying on made me sick. I was like,
Man up, and stop all that crying shit.

Tony planned on taking me on a trip to New York, to get away from dry-ass Maryland. I was pretty sure Tony was going to have a lot of money to spend on me. I needed all the new outfits and shoes I was going to get, so I couldn't turn that shit down for no funeral.

Plus, we planned on getting a hotel room in one of the expensive hotels like the Waldorf or some shit like that, so we could fuck till we fainted. Ever since Tony had given me that bomb-ass orgasm in the back of the car, I was like an addict chasing that first high. I had to get out of this shit somehow. I just had to figure it out.

I walked out of my room and down the steps toward the dining room, where my mother and grandmother were sitting at the table, putting the finishing touches on my grandfather's funeral. I walked through the room and put on the best about-to-get-sick act I possibly could. I was going to get an Oscar for the scene I was about to put on.

Cough! Cough!
I tried my best to sound convincing without overdoing it. “Hey, Ma.” I kissed her on the cheek.
Cough!
“Hey, Gran,” I said as I slowly hugged and kissed her on the cheek as well.

“Hey, baby,” she said with a bright smile.

I loved my grandmother. She was a mean cook and always so attentive to her grandchildren. I hated to pull this fast one on her, but I gotta do me.

“You okay, baby? It sounds like you coming down with something.”

Cough
! “Oh, nah, Gran. It's nothing but a little cough. It will probably go away in a couple of days.” I wanted to scream, “Yes” but I held it in. My plan was now in full effect, and I was going to milk this one for all it was worth.

 

It was Saturday morning, and everybody was getting dressed for the funeral. I was still in the bed, putting on the best “deathbed” act I could muster. I hacked so loud that even I thought I was sick.

“Ashley, what's going on in here? It sounds like you about to cough up a lung in here.” My mom walked over to me and began to check me for a high fever. “You don't have a fever.”

“Really?” I said, a look of distress covering my face. I quickly grabbed my mouth and darted for the bathroom and closed the door. I stuck my finger down my throat and vomited up my dinner from the night before. I wiped my mouth and headed back toward my room.

“Are you okay?”

My mom trailed behind me with the look of worry on her face. She was making this easy.

I leaned up against the wall halfway back to my room, pretending to be too weak to finish the short journey back, and she assisted me as I slowly crept in my bed.

“Mom, I—I don't think I can make it to Granddaddy's funeral,” I said with the most pitiful face I could muster.

“I wasn't going to let you go even if you tried, with the condition you're in.” She tucked me into bed as if I was a toddler again.

“Mom, please tell Dad I'm sorry I missed Granddaddy's funeral.” Everything in me was screaming, “Suckers!” I sealed the deal with a trivial request. “Can you bring me back a flower and obituary, since I can't make it?”

“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” Mom turned and made her way toward my door. Then she turned around, ruining my plans with this one last statement. “We will be gone for most of the day, but I will be calling the house to check up on you.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Okay, Mom.” I was truly pissed. I wasn't expecting this shit. I guess I was going to have to change my and Tony's plans.

 

Everybody was gone, and I had the house to myself. I called Tony with the change of plans. I decided, since my family was going to be gone most of the day, that I would invite Tony over, so we could enjoy ourselves in privacy.

What I didn't expect was my father to come back earlier than expected. Luckily Tony and I were in the living room watching movies before we decided to have sex, because that shit would have been hard to explain to my father. His image of his chaste, loving daughter would've been shattered if he'd caught me having sex in his house.

“Hey, Dad.” I quickly jumped to the other chair in the room as I heard his keys opening the door.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he said, looking at Tony.

I assumed he was waiting on me to explain the unknown visitor.

“I thought you weren't feeling well.”

“Oh, Dad, this is Tony.”

Tony got up and shook my dad's hand.

“Tony had called to check up on me and came over to bring me some ginger ale and saltine crackers for my stomach.”

“Oh, okay,” he said with a look of tiredness on his face. “Nice to finally meet you.”

When Tony first started calling the house for me, I had told my father that Tony was my mentor for the mentorship my school was sponsoring. He had no idea we were being intimate.

My dad exited the room, and I assumed he was heading to his room to be alone. I quickly ushered Tony out of my house, just in case my father wanted to have a more in-depth conversation with us.

 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Come in,” my dad called out.

“Hey, Dad.” I walked in and noticed he was sprawled out on his back across the bed facing me. His face was wet with what probably was tears. “You okay, Dad?”

“I'll be okay, baby girl,” he said, sounding exhausted and worn. “Just going through some stuff.”

I walked over and sat down on the bed next to him. He looked up at me with a faint smile. He wasn't fooling me. I knew he was hurt that Grandpa was dead.

“I know you hurting, Dad.” I rubbed his hair, hoping it would relieve some of the hurt. “I'ma miss Grandpa, too.”

I scooted over some more and placed his head on my lap and brushed his hair some more. His tears flowed freely. Seeing him this way made me tear up as well.

“All you have to do is remember the good times you and Grandpa had, and it won't hurt as much.”

I was feeling bad now for not going to the funeral. I was nothing like my father. He was caring, and he loved to share whatever he had. I, on the other hand, was selfish and sneaky. I was crying harder now.

“Sorry, baby girl,” my dad said in a voice a little higher than a whisper. “I got you in here crying like a baby.”

He wiped my tears with the back of his hand as he sat up next to me. He put his arm around my shoulder, and I laid my head on his shoulder. I was a daddy's girl indeed.

“You feeling better, I see.” He smiled harder this time.

“Dad, you always make feel good.” I smiled. “You're my favorite daddy.”

He looked at me like he had seen a ghost.

“Why you look at me like that, Daddy?” I was confused.

“Oh, ah, sorry, pumpkin,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “You saying that reminded me of something I forgot to do at work.”

“Oh, okay, Dad.” I smiled. “I thought you was seeing dead people or something.” I playfully hit him on his leg, and we both chuckled a little.

“Hey, pumpkin, how about you and I go downstairs and fix us something to eat? Daddy‘s gonna make you some of his favorite banana pancakes.”

“Really?”

“Yep. So go down and get the kitchen ready. I'll be down after I wash my face.”

I zoomed down the steps and was in the kitchen in seconds. I loved spending time with Dad, and he always made time for just us.