Nobody's Son (15 page)

Reggie parked his brother's car in front of one of the buildings in Sand Poole Manor and hopped out. “Aaliyah's asleep. Just keep an eye on her until I get back,” he instructed his baby brother.

“Hurry up, man. We need to get out of Atlanta,” Jermaine answered. “Why don't we just go back to the house?”

“We can't go back to the house. You know Momma started tripping after she found out about that Amber Alert Jenise had put out. That's crazy. How can you kidnap your own child? Then Momma started talking about turning me in. I can't believe she threatened to call the police on her own flesh and blood. There's no way I would ever go back there after how she treated me. So just chill until I get back.”

Reggie trotted through the parking lot into the breezeway, and then knocked on the apartment door of the first apartment on the left.

“Wassup, Reggie?” his friend DeAngelo asked.

“Hey, man, I need your help. I'm looking for a place to lie low for a while.”

DeAngelo stuck his head out the door and looked first to his left, then his right, and back to his left again. When he was positive that no one else was around, he invited Reggie into his apartment and closed the door.

“What's going on with you? The word on the street is that you beat up Jenise and trashed your apartment. That doesn't sound like you at all.”

Reggie was grateful that his reputation in the neighborhood was still intact. “Of course it doesn't. I mean, we had a little fight, but Jenise has blown this mess way out of proportion. She's staying over in Buckhead with her parents.”

DeAngelo reached for his remote control and pressed the button to pause the basketball game he'd been watching on television. “So if she went home, then why don't you do the same?” he asked.

“That heffa has called the cops, and there's a warrant out for my arrest. I went over to her parents' house to talk to her about it and get her to drop the charges and things got out of hand. My mom is seriously tripping, and I just need a place to crash for a few days.” Reggie paused. “To be honest, I need a place where the cops won't find me.”

DeAngelo shook his head. “That's gonna be hard to find around here. Ever since Rip went legit, the city's been on a quest to clean up this whole project. You know the cops drive through Sand Poole Manor every half hour. You can't hide out here.”

Reggie looked around and rubbed his hands trying to think. He'd come to DeAngelo because prior to Rip's sudden departure from the drug game, DeAngelo had been Rip's right-hand man. After Rip testified, the DEA did a clean sweep of the projects, and everyone involved in his business dealings went to jail. Most of them were only given a few years jail time, but for a brief time, there was not one drug dealer left on the street. That is, except for DeAngelo. No one really knew why, but Rip had shown him complete loyalty, and his name was not brought up. He'd never been arrested or even questioned. He still lived in the same luxury apartment that he'd lived in while working for Rip. Reggie had never asked him how he made his money, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Look, man, I know you can help me. It doesn't have to be here at Sand Poole, but you've got to have somewhere that you can let me hide out. I'm begging.”

DeAngelo picked up his remote again to restart the basketball game. “Why should I, Reggie? I mean, you are my boy and everything, but I just don't like the sound of this whole situation.”

“What if I pay you? I don't have any money on me right now, but as soon as all of this is over, I'm going to be signing a record deal. That's why I can't go to jail right now. My career is finally about to take off.”

DeAngelo was anxious to get back to his basketball game, and he was tired of dealing with Reggie. He didn't believe his career was going anywhere, but if it did, he figured he could cash in on the investment.

“Fine, I don't have an apartment, I do have a place where you can hide, but it's pretty basic. There's no running water or electricity. It's just an old abandoned warehouse located way out in Alpharetta.”

“I'll take it,” Reggie replied eagerly.

DeAngelo walked into his bedroom to retrieve the keys to the back door. He returned and gave them to Reggie. Then he sat down on his sofa and picked up a pen and piece of paper.

“Let me write down the address for you. It's way off the beaten path,” he explained. “Do you know your way around that area?”

“My brother's car has GPS. I'm sure we can find it.”

DeAngelo stopped writing and looked up at him. “Your brother is with you? I thought you were alone.”

“Um, no, I don't have my own car so I borrowed his.” Reggie stopped talking and DeAngelo noticed that he looked guilty.

“Is that all?” he asked. “I feel like you aren't telling me everything.”

“I'm telling you everything there is to know. I just need a place to hide for myself. He's going back home after he drops me off,” he lied.

DeAngelo finished writing the address down on a piece of paper. He handed it along with the keys to Reggie, who read over the address, then turned to DeAngelo. “Are you sure this place is safe?” Reggie asked.

“I'm positive. Back in the day, Rip and I used this warehouse for storage. After, well, you know, everything went down, we were able to get our stash out, and the police never knew about it. To be honest, nobody knows about it but me and Rip. So when you finally leave, bring me back the keys. Then you need to forget that you were ever there. Do you understand that?” DeAngelo looked him straight in the eye.

“Yeah, man, I hear you.”

By the time Reggie got back to the car Aaliyah was awake and crying.

“It's about time you got back,” Jermaine said. “This brat will not shut up. I know she's your kid, but you should've left her where she was.”

“Shut up!” Reggie said. He climbed into the driver's seat, then turned around to look at his daughter. “Aaliyah, baby, what's the matter?” he asked.

“I want my mommy,” she whimpered.

“Sweetheart, I told you that Mommy is sick right now and she can't take care of you. You're gonna be staying with me for a while.”

Aaliyah wiped her tears on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Then I wanna go back to Granny Murphy's house.”

“We're going back there in just a little bit. First, we are gonna go to McDonald's and get some chicken nuggets. Won't that be fun?” he lied.

Starting to perk up, Aaliyah nodded her head.

“You got money for McDonald's?” Jermaine eyed him suspiciously.

Reggie ignored him and started the engine to the car. “Don't worry about that. I got us a place to stay tonight. It's a warehouse way out in Alpharetta. After we get settled you can go out and get us some food.”

“I thought you said this guy could find us a decent place to stay. A warehouse is not decent.” Jermaine smacked himself on the forehead. “This is ridiculous. I don't even know why I agreed to come with you.”

Listening to him whine, Reggie began to wonder as well. If it wasn't for the fact that he desperately needed his car, and Jermaine was reluctant to let him leave with it alone, Reggie probably would not have bothered to bring him.

As he drove he tried to make sense of the nightmare that his life had become in just a few short days.

When his mother asked him, he had told her the truth. Yes, he'd hit Jenise. She got on his nerves sometimes, and he hit her. It wasn't like his dad had not knocked his mother around on a regular basis. Sure, he was a minister, but he also was the sole authority in his house and anytime his mother dared step out of line, he quickly put her in check. He also admitted to her that he'd trashed the apartment in anger. Jenise had no right to pull a knife on him, he reasoned.

After that incident at the apartment, Reggie went home to his mother and while working in his studio he decided that he was glad to be rid of Jenise. It wasn't that he didn't love her. He honestly did. It just appeared to Reggie that since she'd gotten pregnant and he'd been forced to marry her, his life had gone steadily downhill.

He was excited about his impending contract with Curtis Jansen. Reggie knew that he was a talented singer and songwriter. Whenever he sang at churches around the Atlanta area he was able to make old ladies in big hats fall out in the Spirit. His songs had a classic R&B feel to them that also made young people jump to their feet clapping and lifting their hands in praise. Reggie loved the feeling it gave him to know that his audience was enjoying the music that he made. He reveled in the glow of applause.

Although he got paid a generous salary, Reggie had hated the years he spent as musical director at his father's church. It wasn't easy teaching words and parts to what he considered to be a group of untalented misfits. With hard work and a lot of yelling, he was actually able to make them sound good, but it was a hollow victory. The last place Reggie wanted to be was behind a piano or even standing in front of the choir with his back to the audience. Reggie believed that he deserved to stand alone on the stage. He didn't believe that he was just any old ordinary singer. In his mind, Reggie was a superstar. That belief was the primary reason he'd stopped singing duets with Jenise. Her voice was too strong and passionate, and often, she stole the show. After they performed, it made his blood boil if she received more compliments than he did. He'd told her that he felt that she should concentrate on raising Aaliyah instead of having a music career with him. Jenise was a doting mother so she agreed without much protest. The truth was he really didn't care what type of mother she was. He simply did not want to share the spotlight with anyone, especially his wife.

While driving he thought back to the day earlier that week when he had been in his studio in his mother's basement putting the finishing touches on his latest track and Jermaine knocked on the door interrupting him. Feeling annoyed that he had been bothered, he opened the door anyway.

“I'm busy, Jermaine. Make it quick,” he snapped.

“The cops just left here. They were looking for you.”

Reggie quickly pulled his brother into the soundproof studio. “Why are the cops looking for me?” he asked after they'd both sat down.

“Jenise said that you beat her up and smacked Aaliyah. They also said you vandalized your apartment. They had three warrants with your name on them.”

In all their years of marriage, Jenise had never reported the abuse to law enforcement. Reggie was shocked and livid.

“What did you tell them?” he demanded.

“I didn't tell them anything. I said that you didn't live here and I had not seen you in a few days. They gave me a card and told me to call if I heard from you.”

Reggie breathed a sigh of relief. “That's good.” He patted his brother on the back. “You are very smart, little brother. That will give me some time.”

“Time to do what?” Jermaine asked.

“I need to borrow your car. I'm going to go over to her parents' house and talk to Jenise. I'm sure if I apologize and sweet-talk her, I can get her to recant her story.”

Jermaine shook his head. “Nope, I need my car for work. Anyway, can't the police prosecute you for domestic violence even if Jenise doesn't cooperate?”

“They can try, but without her testimony, their case won't stand a chance. I won't be gone long. I'll be back before you have to leave for work.”

Jermaine stood up to leave. “Jenise's parents don't like you very much. Just call her on the phone.”

“I can't call her. She cut off my cell phone. If I use your phone or the house phone she might tell the police where I am. Listen, I know my wife. Face to face, there is no way she'll say no to me.”

Jermaine was still reluctant to turn over his car keys. He really didn't have to go to work that evening. He just really believed that what Reggie was planning was a very bad idea. It wasn't until his brother reminded him that he had helped him trash the apartment and could also be charged that he finally relented.

When he arrived, taking Aaliyah was the furthest thing from Reggie's mind. That is, until he ran up against a brick wall named Malcolm Winston. As soon as he saw Reggie through the screen door standing on his front porch he became infuriated.

“Get out of here, you trifling no-good bum,” he yelled.

Reggie held up his hands in front of himself. “I don't want any trouble. I just want to see my wife.”

“She's not here. Even if she was, I still wouldn't let you see her. Your days of tyranny ruling over my child have ended. Now get your worthless, cowardly behind off of my porch before I throw you off.”

Being insulted enraged Reggie. He snatched open the screen door, breaking the latch. Then he stormed into the house. “Where's my wife?” he bellowed.

“I told you she's not here.”

Malcolm grabbed him, and the two men tussled with each other. Their wrestling match became rougher, and both men ended up on the floor. Malcolm was winning and had almost gotten Reggie to an angle where he felt he'd be able to push him back out onto the porch. Then Reggie swung his fist, hitting Malcolm squarely in his jaw and knocking him unconscious on the floor. Reggie stepped over him and began going through the house screaming, “Jenise! Jenise!”

He walked from room to room becoming more agitated with each step because he could not find Jenise. He finally stormed into the kitchen and discovered Deloris and Aaliyah huddled in a corner trying to hide.

“Give me my kid!” he ordered.