The Deadline. KiKi Swinson

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СКАЧАТЬ Kyle’s way of dealing was getting involved in any- and everything that was against what society said was right.

      Kyle woke up daily to find ways to buck any system he perceived was holding him back. He often got high and went on for hours about government conspiracies and “the man,” as he called it. I never really knew who this “man” that was holding us all down was supposed to be, so most times I just nodded and agreed. It was common in the hood to hear dudes that refused to work or make their lives better through school say stuff like “the white man” or “the man” or “the government” was holding them back. Although, if I had to put a face on the so-called oppressive “man,” he would definitely look like my boss, Christian Aniston!

      I still loved my brother more than anything, though. He was my everything. I would die for him, and I’m sure he would die for me too. Our bond was as strong as steel.

      * * *

      “A’ight, twin. I’m ready,” Kyle announced, stubbing out his blunt and breaking up my thoughts. “This shit is now or never. And just know the things I do for you, including this crazy-ass shit, it all out of love.”

      I inhaled deeply and exhaled a shaky, nervous breath. “I’m ready too,” I said tentatively. “And I love you just the same, brother.”

      “Make sure you have your phone on silent and no flash on your camera. I bet there will be a lot to take pictures of . . . Shit, you may get lucky and see the man himself,” Kyle told me.

      “You mean Barker?” I asked.

      Kyle chuckled a bit. “That’s a reach. That nigga is like a ghost in the game. Just fix your phone so you don’t get us killed. Not right now at least.” Kyle laughed again, but I didn’t find anything funny. My brain was on alert from that moment on.

      I fumbled with my cell phone to make sure everything was the way Kyle said it should be. I cued up the phone camera to make sure the screen was there when I was ready for it. Sweat started pouring down my back and across my forehead. I could feel the nerve in my left eye jumping. That’s what always happened when I was nervous, in distress, or just plain scared out of my fucking mind. I didn’t know what we were about to walk into, but I said a silent prayer that we would make it back out. Kyle started out of the door, but I grabbed his arm and stopped him.

      “Wait . . . what’s the guy’s name? The detective,” I asked.

      “In the streets we know him as Redds, but his real name is Marlon Keith . . . so I guess at the station they call him Detective Keith,” Kyle replied. He shook his head. “The dude really does live a double life. You’ll see. I can show you better than I can tell you. That clean-cut, dapper, happy cop you saw ain’t going to be what you see now . . . I’m sure about that.”

      I shook my head in amazement. This was crazy. There was already an unbelievable story forming in my head. I could even see myself reporting on it from the live desk. My insides tingled from the thought.

      “C’mon, we only have a small bit of time,” Kyle said with a bit of urgency.

      “Okay,” I said, grabbing for my door handle too. I stopped for a second again.

      “Kyle.”

      He turned and looked at me with an awkward frown.

      “Just know that I love you, no matter what. And thanks for always looking out,” I said sincerely.

      He straightened up his face and smiled. “We don’t have time to waste today, twin. We need to be on our square,” he replied like a schoolteacher. He was a stickler for time and staying on our A-game. We needed to be on high alert.

      Kyle and I exited the car in the bushes. I followed his lead as he ducked down and practically crawled toward the back of the little shack. We stayed low and my knees were burning. I was out of shape. That little bit of crab walking had done me in and I was huffing and puffing, trying to catch my breath by the time we both made it to our destination. I swallowed hard and fought to catch my breath. Kyle did a couple of hand motions that let me know we were at the place that Redds, or, better yet, Detective Keith, had gone into. Kyle signaled for me to crouch so I could look into the cracks in the wood. The slits seemed to have been made to perfectly fit my eyes. I looked through and watched and listened. I was amazed all over again. This was like some crime-movie shit playing out. I could hear so clearly, it scared me. If I could hear them, could they hear me creeping around outside? I thought. Still, I couldn’t stop watching and listening.

      There was a bunch of men standing around. Some were black and some Hispanic. It was like two sides about to go to war or something. Each side flanked their apparent leader, and each side held their guns in plain sight.

      “Let’s do this,” Detective Keith said, like he wanted to get to the business at hand. He had changed into a black leather jacket and black jeans. A far cry from his suit and tie. He didn’t look like he was there to make small talk. Also, a far cry from the smiling and chatting we saw him doing outside the police station. A guy dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans turned toward another guy dressed the same; the only thing distinguishing them apart was their different-colored footwear. In unison the clones walked a few paces and retrieved two black duffel bags from the spare tire well in the back of the vehicle they had come in. It wouldn’t have been believable except I was watching it go down.

      Even through the little slits in the wood, I could see the strain on their faces as they lugged the bags over. A Hispanic man with a head full of dark, curly hair, and dressed similarly to Detective Keith, walked over, flanked by two of his men. His men weren’t wearing all black; in fact, I thought they were dressed pretty bright for this kind of transaction to be going down. I could tell these guys were on different sides because they held guns at their waists like they were on the ready for anything that might pop off. They all watched as Detective Keith’s workers unzipped the bags to reveal crisp new stacks of cash bound with thick red rubber bands. I moved my eyes from the cracks in the wood and looked over at Kyle, who was peeking through another crack. I made a gesture to him that said, Gotdamn, do you see that money? He widened his eyes and shook his head, as if to say, Hell yeah, I see that shit!

      Voices coming from inside made me put my eye back to the hole. I listened closely, fully enthralled and nervous.

      “The first bag is for what we received last night on the first shipment. The second is the first half of what is owed for the missing shipment,” Detective Keith said smoothly, like he was an old-school drug dealer and not actually a cop.

      My heart fluttered under my rib cage like a moth trapped in a jar. So far, I’d seen enough to build the most scandalous story ever. I could feel the cogs and wheels of my mind turning with ideas on how to report on this.

      “Check it,” the Hispanic man said, nodding and handing the bags off to his partners. The two men meticulously lifted each stack of cash, flicking through them as if they were decks of cards. As fast as they flipped, I could tell they were still being meticulous about the count.

      “All here,” one of the Hispanic man’s henchmen said. When they were done counting the money and secured the bags in their vehicle, the Hispanic man stepped closer to the crooked detective.

      Even from my position outside and looking in, I could feel the palpable tension inside. I hurried up and got my phone out. I put the camera up to another tiny slit and tried to record and watch what was happening at the same time. It was risky, I know, but I had to at least get a little bit of footage so that Christian would believe it. I mean, if I were in her shoes and a junior reporter came in with this СКАЧАТЬ