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So they made a pact of their own. No, baby, that will never be us. There were to be no silences over dinner. Ever. They were simply too fun, too sexy, too into each other to ever let things get that stale. And they kept that up for quite a while. Years, in fact. But here they were coming up on year twenty and without a spare word for one another.
Ladonna hated those silences. There was boredom in those silences. And sadness. And apathy. And, for her, failure. Apparently, there was nothing else interesting about her, and she and her husband were only marking time until the bitter end, whenever that came. It was a depressing thought, and one she could never stop once it began. No wonder her eye had wandered.
“So how was work?”
Marcus grunted. He never had much to say about work. Not much good, anyway. And it always put him in a bad mood when he had to think about it at home. He had once described it as “a boring-ass middle-management job where I gotta show my teeth all fucking day.” He’d majored in business and he worked at Coke. The end.
She cleared her throat and took a sip of wine. “Some lady came in today trying to return a dress that had…bodily fluids on it.”
“Lewinsky?” Marcus said.
“Mm-hm.”
“Did y’all take it back?”
“Nope. So she’s probably gonna call corporate on me.” She took another sip of wine. “Okay, I think I’m tipsy enough to hear about that other thing.”
Marcus’ jaw tightened. “They’re re-opening the case.”
“What?” Ladonna shrieked in a voice five octaves higher than her usual. “Why would they do that?”
Marcus shook his head slowly. “Because whatever you wanna say about Nicole, the woman ain’t stupid. She knows her daughter didn’t kill herself, and she’s been down at that precinct damn near every day whining about it.”
“Who told you this, Marshall?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.” Ladonna rarely cursed, but the situation called for it. “What are we gonna do?”
“Call the meeting.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow. Tell them it’s an emergency.”
“Oh, my God.”
He shrugged. “Nyleah’s case is now officially considered a homicide. And you know what that means.”
She did. Her eyes filled with tears as she gulped the last of her wine.
CHAPTER FIVE
MichaelSills,betterknownas Mike, crossed the courtyard with his Twix and bottled water. It was lunchtime, but he didn’t generally participate in the occasion. His appetite had never been good, and it was bordering on non-existent these days. He was tall and thin, almost gangly, and it used to bother him so much, he would put on a big show of eating in front of his friends. But he didn’t care anymore. Not about that. Not about anything, really.
He spotted Jace at a table near the big magnolia tree and chuckled to himself. That boy always had that damn whistle hanging from his neck like he was gonna call somebody to attention. He called out to his friend, “Aye man, move your shit out the way so I can sit.”
Jace looked up and flashed a grin at his boy. “You better sit your punk-ass over there,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. “I’m working right here.”
Mike took a look at the papers spread in front of Jace. Each page was covered in circles and squares with arrows sandwiched between them. “What’s that, field formations?”
Without looking up, Jace nodded.
Mike sat and watched. He'd never been one for band. He’d played clarinet in the seventh grade, got clowned for it, and gave up after the first semester. “That’s all you, bruh,” he said. He tore into his Twix and crunched on a bar. “So what’s good with you?”
Jace finally stopped sketching and looked at his friend. “Nigga, would you eat some real food? Damn!”
Mike laughed, his mouth full of chocolate and caramel. “Go buy me a lunch and I will.”
