Page 17 of Omar

Marlon? Marlon Holt? Where is he?

My pencil stopped moving.

How bad is it? A pause. Cee, I asked you a question. How bad.

I turned a page. The list underneath had nothing new on it but I stared at it anyway.

Baptiste did what? In Crown Heights? His voice dropped lower. And nobody saw a damn thing? He just walked away clean?

I made myself keep my hand on the pencil.

Yeah. Yeah, get him to the place. Have the doctor ready when he gets there. Another pause. One more thing. Find out what Marlon was doing on Nostrand yesterday afternoon. I wanna know who he was meetin' and why.

The call ended. Footsteps crossed the bedroom. I went back to the order list like I'd been reading it the whole time.

Supreme came to the kitchen doorway.

"You sleep alright, baby?"

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah." He came over and stood behind my chair, ran his hand up the back of my neck, kissed the top of my head. "I gotta go handle some business. Be back later."

"Okay."

"You workin' today?"

"Got a client in Carroll Gardens at eleven. Then I'm at the salon."

"Carroll Gardens? That's new."

"Bridal trial. Word of mouth off Tasha."

He was quiet for a second. Then he squeezed my shoulder. "Cee's gonna drive you."

"I can drive myself, Premie."

"Cee's gonna drive you till some things settle. Just for a few days."

"Okay."

He kissed my hair again and walked off. I heard him getting his jacket in the bedroom, heard the front door open and close, heard his footsteps going down the stairs outside and the building door shutting behind him.

I sat at the table with the file still open and the pencil in my hand. I tried to write the next line on the order list and my hand wouldn't move.

Marlon Holt got jumped last night. Someone put him down hard enough that Supreme's people had to take him somewhere with a doctor, and Supreme wanted to know what Holt was doing on Nostrand yesterday afternoon. The same block where I'd been yesterday afternoon. The same block where Holt had put his hands on me.

I closed the file and slid it into my bag.

The last time I saw Marlon Holt, I'd come out of Mrs. Diaz's building with my bag over my shoulder and turned left toward where Cee had parked down the block. He'd come off the barbershop steps before I'd made it five paces. He'd grabbed my arm above the elbow hard enough to leave a bruise I'd covered with makeup this morning. He'd yanked me close enough that I'd stumbled half a step. His other hand had gone to my jaw. His mouth had been at my ear.

Supreme got eyes on you everywhere, mama. Don't be gettin' ideas about bein' a free woman round here.

I'd worked my elbow back into his ribs. Got enough space to breathe. Got two fingers on his wrist and moved it off my jaw. I'd looked him in the eye and told him if he put his hands on me again I'd tell Supreme myself and we'd see how that conversation went.

He'd stepped back. Not far. Just enough.

I'd walked away without looking back. Called Cee from the next block over and told him I was getting the subway instead. Didn't look behind me. Didn't check to see if anyone was watching. Just got myself off that block and kept moving.