The Deadline. KiKi Swinson

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СКАЧАТЬ my head to the side. “What are you talking about?” I asked, intrigued now. Maybe he was onto something that I needed to know.

      “See, see, now you want to know what I’m talking about,” he taunted.

      “Just tell me,” I shot back; my patience had worn thin.

      “How would your bitch of a boss feel about a scandal involving the possible future mayor of Norfolk being involved in all kinds of illegal shit?” he asked, rubbing his hands together like he was cooking something up in his mind. “How would that be for an earth-shattering story?”

      I moved to the edge of my seat; my eyebrows arched on my face. “What do you mean ‘the possible future mayor of Norfolk’? Like, a candidate that is running?”

      “I mean, what if the number one candidate for mayor, Anton Barker, who is currently the defense attorney for some of the most ruthless-ass, drug-dealing killers walking the streets, is running for mayor of Norfolk so he can let all that illegal shit go down and keep getting paid by the criminal clients he’s been defending all of these years. What if I tell you that behind that suit and tie and white-tooth smile, Barker is a two-faced motherfucker pretending to be a politician, but is the biggest criminal walking?” Kyle replied, a wicked little grin spreading over his lips.

      “Stop playing with my emotions, Kyle,” I grumbled at first. “Are you making this shit up as you go along? This sounds like something from a TV show or movie.”

      “You ain’t got no faith in me? You ain’t learn over all the years we been alive that I don’t play around all of the time?” he asked, shaking his head at me.

      “Wait . . . are you being serious? Or are you just talking shit?” I asked, my heart speeding up with excitement. “Because I’m in a real tight situation here with my boss and I don’t have time to play around. That story sounds like exactly what that bitch Christian is looking for.”

      “I’m so serious, twin. I can get you that story, but we gotta be careful, though. That nigga Barker ain’t no joke. All of us street niggas know better than to get too close. Only pretty women can get close to him. He got a thing for bad chicks, if you know what I mean. But on the same token, he goes through a lot of shit to hide and protect himself, feel me? He plans on becoming mayor in a few months. That is, unless you break this story and bust up the election, but just know if you do that, you might have to have a lot of protection around you afterward,” Kyle said, his tone getting serious. “Be sure you’re ready to live like that for a while. It would be like being in Witness Protection or some shit. Always looking back over your shoulders.”

      I didn’t care about my brother’s warnings. All I heard was “ratings, ratings, ratings,” which equaled to me being on that 6:00 p.m. news anchor desk.

      “How? How can I get in on this?” I asked, jumping to my feet. Within seconds I was pacing, which is what I did whenever my mind started racing. I could’ve walked a hole into my mother’s carpet as much as I was moving. I had so many thoughts rotating around my head. I couldn’t figure out if I was coming or going.

      “It may take selling your soul, just like your boss expects,” Kyle answered, but then he laughed. “Shit, we both going to sell our souls, for that matter. I would be dragging you into something you might not be ready for. You may have to get inside his campaign office or even push up on the nigga to get closer. Like I said, he has people working for him already and he rubs elbows with all the major players in the game here in Norfolk. I don’t know if you’re ready. He also has cops and judges and the like on his payroll. Let’s put it this way . . . Barker’s friends are all killers in suits. So I don’t know if I even want you involved, now that I think about it.”

      “Stop playing,” I told him seriously. “You can’t tell me about this and then pull back now. I definitely don’t have time for any games. This is my story. I can feel it, Kyle.”

      I didn’t have time to be strung along. I needed to know if I was going to have something I could go back and tell Christian.

      “Pump your breaks, sis. I’m not playing at all. Stick with me and I’ll take you to the first of many places to build up the story. You just have to be careful with the information until you have it all together, because once you blow the whistle on this, we might all have to run for cover. Barker is dead set—and I do mean dead set—on becoming the future mayor. He has defended the biggest dealers in our area. And he is not only powerful, he is ruthless and don’t give a fuck about nothing. He is the Devil in a suit,” Kyle warned.

      “I don’t know about y’all doing this,” my mother said, her voice shaky. She’d returned to the living room with a plate of food for me, but I hadn’t even heard her come back. I was too busy being keyed into what Kyle and I were discussing about the story line.

      “I don’t think anything is worth selling your soul to the Devil for. This man sounds like someone you need to steer clear of,” my mother went on. My first thought was that she had some nerve. I had watched her sell her soul to the drug devil a few times. She couldn’t judge me at all. I kept those bad thoughts in my head, though.

      I flopped back down on the couch and sat quiet for a few seconds. Christian’s voice rang in my head: “Nothing is guaranteed . . . not even the job you have right now. If you don’t pull your weight around here, there are thousands of other hungry young reporters out there that would love to be in your shoes.”

      That was enough. I wanted whatever Kyle was going to give me. I wanted my job. I wasn’t listening to anyone other than my inner voice, which was telling me this was going to be my big break.

      My mother set the plate of liver, onions, white rice, and gravy in front of me, but all of a sudden I wasn’t hungry. Kyle switched on the TV. “Watch this . . . I bet the nigga is on TV smiling and kissing babies right now as we speak about his ass,” Kyle said, flipping through channels until he came to our rival station’s news.

      I sat up straight and watched. My heart was beating so fast, I felt the movement behind my eyes. Sure enough, as fate would have it, there he was, the now-infamous Anton Barker, standing behind the reporter waving and smiling like the quintessential politician. I couldn’t front, the man was fine. He had a nice build, which was not too skinny, but not too muscular. His hair was salt-and-pepper, and so was the goatee that ringed his smooth cocoa-colored skin. His suit was clearly custom-made and expensive. It looked like he spared no expense on his upkeep and appearance. I liked it. I liked it a lot. I watched the television screen and stared as my rival station nemesis, Jay Jones, walked over with her goofy smile and microphone. Even she made googly eyes at Barker as she jockeyed for a good position and camera angle.

      “We are here at the biggest mayoral campaign event for top candidate Anton Barker since he announced his bid for mayor of Norfolk. The people seem to love him. This crowd has eclipsed every other candidate in the race. It seems that the people of all sections of the city love Mr. Barker. We have reported before how it seems Barker has a stronghold on all classes of voters.”

      I watched, glued to the television, as Jay Jones pushed her microphone past all of the other reporters and wedged her way in, to get a word with Barker.

      “Mr. Barker, sir. Tell us how you manage to appeal to so many people. We’ve seen you defend what some would call the dregs of society, but now here you are, being loved by everyone,” Jay Jones said, her microphone directly in front of Barker’s mouth. He straightened the lapels on his jacket, flashed a beautiful, gleaming white, straight-toothed smile, and spoke eloquently.

      “Well, let’s just say I am a man of the people . . . all people. I come from СКАЧАТЬ