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  “Get off it, man! You knew,” Marcus barked viciously.”You've been hearing it like I have for years. So don't come on with that innocent act. Hell, he's made me what I am today. I don't intend to scrounge around in the dirt with a lot of other guys for scraps. I want to be a big time player. Just like dear old dad.”

  Anthony jumped up and marched down the hall after Ike. He found him in his library punching the buttons of a large black phone on his desk. Ike took no notice of him but spoke into the phone.

  “Tell him Ike wants to talk to him. I don't give a damn if he is. Get him on the phone now! Lonnie, this situation with my nephew.” Ike's face grew rigid with rage as he listened. His fist came down on the desk top with a tremendous bang. “You listen to me, I know about a certain incident that happened on St. Claude Street two years ago. There are a couple of men still very pissed off. They'd be interested to know who was responsible. I thought you'd see it my way.” He slammed the receiver down.

  “I need to talk to you, Uncle Ike.” Anthony stood in front of him.

  “It's going to be handled, okay? Quit worryin'.” Ike downed the rest of his whiskey with one gulp.

  “Thank you. Is that what you expect me to say? I should be happy you've got the criminal connections to help clear me of something I didn't do anyway? What the hell do you think you're doing?” Anthony placed his palms flat on the fancy blotter and leaned forward.

  “Business, boy! Takin' care of business,” Ike shouted.

  “Drugs and murder have become regular business for you?” Anthony shouted back.

  “You oughta know me better than that! Some of them guys I helped get out of prison been up to their old tricks, but I can't help what they do. Sure, I cut a few deals here and there. But that's as far as it goes.”

  “You can't just turn your head and say it has nothing to do with you.” Anthony stood erect and grunted with disgust. “It seems Marcus is right. As long as it's good for your wallet, you don't care about anything else,” he said. A sick feeling took hold in his chest. He could only feel repulsion as he saw the unrepentant look on Ike's face.

  “Goddamn it, boy! I've been fightin' to make it in this world a long time. Diggin' my way out of the dirt with nothing but brains and guts. There's white guys doin' things a helluva lot worse than me. Know what they're called? Sharp businessmen, that's what. Tycoons, yeah. They makin' millions suckerin' the rest of these fools into thinkin' they been done a favor.”Ike got up and paced as he spoke.”I built what I got from nothin'. Used to be a black businessman couldn't get the time of day at Louisiana Premier Bank downtown. Now I got a five hundred thousand dollar line of credit. I didn't get nothin' without takin' risks.” He whirled to face Anthony.

  “That's your excuse; because everybody else does it?” Anthony shook his head, his face a mixture of disbelief and dismay.

  Ike drew himself to his full height.” Excuses are for men who feel guilty for what they've done. That ain't me.”

  “Then we don't have anything else to talk about.” Anthony turned to go.

  “Wait, son.” Ike caught his arm. “Maybe you think there was a better way; maybe you're right. But this is a hard world with a lotta folks waitin' to kick you down. Survival takes bein' ready to kick back. One thing you gotta believe, anything I've ever done was to make a better way for my family.”

  Anthony looked at Ike's hand on his arm then up into his uncle's eyes. “But not like this. You've built the family estate on a garbage dump. You can dress it up all you want. But the stench is still there.” Anthony pulled away from him.

  Outside, Anthony paused to look at the house one last time. He felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized once more he was saying a final goodbye to someone he loved dearly.

  ***

  “Hey, Gracie. Come on in.” Michelle smiled broadly at the sight of her friend. “It sure is good to see somebody from the old salt mines.”

  “How are you holding up, kiddo?” Gracie gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Fair to partly cloudy. I miss it though. Damn, I feel cut off. I never realized how little we really say in those reports.”

  Gracie laughed. “Oh yeah. Between unconfirmed rumors, material that would hurt somebody without adding to the story, grounds for a lawsuit, or somebody whipping our butts, a whole lot gets left out.” She nodded rapidly, her curls bobbing. “So you're doing good, huh?”

  “Not bad. Park it anywhere, red.” Michelle made a sweeping gesture towards the sofa and two large comfortable matching chairs.

  Gracie sat down and cleared her throat. “Place still looks great.” She gazed around.

  “You were here only last month, Gracie. What'll ya have? I got your favorite, Dr. Pepper.”

  “So you're doing pretty good? Well heck, you just said so, right? So you must be doing okay.” Gracie's voice was shrill with forced cheer. She fidgeted with the stuffed pillows.

  Michelle came back into the room with two glasses and a large bottle of the soft drink. She studied Gracie for several moments. “What's up? Come on, spill it.”

  “Nothing,” Gracie screeched then pressed her lips together.”Nothing... really.” She forced her voice unnaturally low.

  “Gracie, your voice just went from soprano to bass in five seconds, which means you're lying.” Michelle slid the bottle out of Gracie's reach. “No truth, no Dr. Pepper. And don't forget, I know how bad you need Dr. Pepper when you're stressed out.”

  “Grand Jury,” Gracie blurted then grabbed the soft drink taking a deep swig. She wiped tiny beads of sweat from her forehead.

  “Speak in complete sentences, please.” Michelle inched to the edge of her seat.

  “God, I thought you knew. But you don't do you? I mean, you would have said something, called me at work if you had. Maybe it's not as bad as it looks. I mean the Grand Jury is only investigating.” Gracie gulped down some of the soft drink.”I'm so sorry.”

  The doorbell rang forestalling Michelle from further questioning Gracie. She went to the door and opened it. Shantae rushed in wearing of look of concern and sympathy.

  “Girl, how are you holding up? Now look, don't jump to conclusions just because the Grand Jury is going to question him.” Shantae patted her shoulder rapidly.

  “What are you talking about?” Michelle stood between them. She looked at one then the other.

  “You mean she doesn't know?”Noticing her for the first time, Shantae crossed to sit beside Gracie.

  “Must not have watched the noon news show,” Gracie said in a solemn voice.

  “No!” Michelle shouted. “I don't know. So, damn it, somebody tell me what's going on.

  “The DA has called a Grand Jury to examine the evidence they have on the Troy Quarles murder so far. Anthony has been subpoenaed. They say he's the prime suspect.” Gracie looked down at the floor.

  “Prime suspect?” Michelle sank onto the sofa slowly. She shook her head as if to clear it.

  “An accusation isn't proof of guilt, Chelle,” Shantae said with fervor.

  “She's right, Michelle. Don't jump to conclusions,” Gracie said.

  “First Dom is beaten up, and then this man is found dead. Could this be my fault? Maybe those reports put so much pressure on Lonnie Mason and Ike that they got desperate.” Michelle raked her fingers through her hair. “Or Anthony could have repeated something I said to his uncle or Marcus making them panic.” She rubbed her forehead trying to remember their conversations. “What did we talk about?”

  Shantae sat forward and took her hand. “Don't do this. You're not to blame for what happened to Dominic or that other guy.”

  “My Lord; what a mess.” Michelle closed her eyes.

  Gracie tried to soothe her. “I know, sugar. It seems to get worse by the hour.” She started at the sound of her cell phone. Taking it out, she spoke into it softly. “Okay. On my way.” Gracie shoved the phone back into her satchel and stood. “Listen, I've got to go. The DA has called a press conference. Since Earl's down i
n Plaquemine covering that big refinery accident, I'm on this story for now. Take care. I'll call you later.” She raced off.

  Michelle locked the front door and fell back onto the sofa with a low sigh.” I don't want to think what I'm thinking, Shantae. Anthony meant the world to me.” A tear slid down her face. She quickly wiped it away.

  “Cedric says it's got to be a set up. He swears Anthony has never been in on any of Ike's crooked deals.” Shantae handed her a tissue.

  “But Ike wouldn't set Anthony up. He may be a sleazy character, but he really cares about Anthony. No, that doesn't make sense.” Michelle turned to her. “And aside from what Cedric thinks, T'aneka says Anthony hasn't been in on the contracts with the Housing Authority.”

  “So you do believe in him.” Shantae grinned at her. “He hasn't done anything, Chelle.”

  “Then why is Anthony a suspect?”

  “Stereotype. He's a well-dressed, successful black man. One of his employees was involved in drugs and turned up dead. You figure it out,” Shantae said hotly.

  “Uh-uh, too many coincidences. First, this Quarles guy starts working for Anthony, deals drugs, claims the boss is in on it, and then turns up dead. With the connection to Ike, and everything else that's coming out... it's logical to suspect him. No, there's another angle to this.” Michelle stared ahead thoughtfully. Her mind whirled trying to sort through the contradictions. She rubbed her eyes making them even redder.

  Shantae tapped Michelle's knee. “Come over to my house for dinner. Don't sit here alone agonizing over this.”

  “No, thanks. You and Laree have done a very good job babysitting me.” Michelle smiled at her.”But I'm all right.”

  “You sure?” Shantae rose picking up her purse.

  “Positive. You go on and give that handsome son of yours a big kiss for me.”Michelle walked with her to the front door.

  Shantae gave her a worried look. “I'll check on you later.”

  “Fine. Now go on home.” Michelle waved her out.

  Closing the door, Michelle sat on the sofa with her feet tucked under her. Using the remote, she switched the television on and found Channel twelve. She reviewed her experiences with Grand Jury investigations. Being questioned may not lead to an indictment, but it could certainly leave an ugly stain on a man's reputation. Especially a businessman. Michelle tried to examine the facts objectively. Her anger at Anthony for defending Ike could be clouding her judgment. Surely the man she knew could not have deceived her so completely for so long. Anthony had never given her cause to suspect him of aiding Ike in his schemes. Yet didn't Anthony admit that he was headed down a path to prison until Ike stepped in? Could those tendencies be hidden under a veneer of respectability?

  “I have to find out one way or another,” Michelle said.

  Seeing the five o'clock edition of the news starting, she turned up the sound of the television. Gracie appeared shortly with her report as the lead story after a short introduction by the anchor. Michelle flinched when Anthony's face came on the screen. Yet she steeled herself watch. She pushed aside her reaction to the terrible accusations and made details notes.

  ***

  “Missing? How long?” Michelle exclaimed staring at him with amazement.

  Earl draped himself over her living room sofa while Gracie sat in the chair with her feet propped on the matching ottoman. Her friends had joined Michelle for lunch at her apartment. They were stuffed on shrimp po-boys, curly-Qs, and giant sized sofa drinks.

  “Two weeks. His sister reported it when she couldn't get him at his office or home. Mrs. Bridges dumped him before that. Seems adultery was one thing, but putting up with him without the money isn't a sacrifice she's willing to make.” Earl wore a lop-sided grin.

  “You think he's been...” Michelle hesitated.

  “Killed? Could be. James Bridges was the weakest link in their chain. And from what I hear, he'd been spending a lot of time with the DA. Maybe somebody decided to shut him up.” Earl drew a finger across his throat.

  Gracie shivered. “This is getting too scary.”

  “Tell me about it. These dudes play for keeps. Anyway, Connely doesn't seem to be acting real panicky. Maybe he's got enough already to drop the hammer on Ike and Co.” Earl shrugged.

  “Then why hasn't he moved to get an indictment? No, something else is going on. I just wish I could figure it out.” Michelle chewed on a fingernail.

  “Don't be surprised if they find poor old James floating face down in Bayou Manchac.” Getting up, Earl wiped his mouth and tossed his empty cup into the large kitchen garbage can. “Gotta move, good people. There's a meeting of the State Senate's Judiciary Committee in twenty minutes. Keep keepin' on, babe.” He kissed Michelle on the forehead. “And I'll see you back at the sweat shop.” He waved goodbye to Gracie.

  “How are things in the wonderful world of Channel Twelve?” Michelle poked Gracie's foot with hers.

  “SOS. Same old stuff,” Gracie giggled. “Jason swaggers around giving orders. Most of us nod and do what we want anyway.”

  “And the lovely Jennifer?” Michelle grimaced.

  “Still obnoxious.”

  “At least she's consistent.” Michelle joined Gracie in laughter. A knock on the front door made them both start. “Wonder who that could be?” Michelle peered through the peep hole then stepped back staring at the closed door.

  “Well? Who is it?” Gracie whispered. She wore a frightened expression seeing Michelle move away from the door. A louder knock made her jump behind the sofa.

  Michelle opened the door slowly. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Anthony stood uncertainly in the door without moving forward. “Can I come in?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Michelle swung the door wider, her heart beating double time. She watched his handsome profile, breathed in the sweet aroma of him, as he passed within inches of her.”You remember my friend Gra--” Michelle turned around to find only the top of Gracie's head and eyes visible from behind the couch. “What are you doing?” Michelle placed both hands on her hips.

  “Oh, I was looking for; I mean..., I dropped... something.” Gracie popped up with a sheepish grin. “Hello again.” She waved at Anthony.

  “My friend Gracie. A good, though slightly strange, friend.” Michelle gave her a baffled sideways glance.

  “Nice seeing you again, too.” Anthony smiled briefly at her then looked at Michelle intently for a few seconds. “I came by to tell you I'm sorry about Dominic. How is he?”

  “Dom is doing better than expected. Everyday he's more responsive. Thanks for asking.” Michelle fidgeted with the drawstring on her sweat pants. She wondered what to do or say next.

  Gracie tugged on her shoes and grabbed her purse. “Um-humm. Well, I gotta be going. Lots of stuff to do.”

  “Stay right there,” Michelle barked at her. “Uh, I mean we haven't finished that story you were helping me with.” She fixed her with a pointed stare.

  “Oo-kaay; if you say so.” Gracie sat down as if she had been pushed hard.

  Michelle squirmed at the silence that stretched between them. Looking up into Anthony's troubled brown eyes sent a tremor through her body. Her arms ached with the desire to hold him. She set her jaw firmly, bent on resisting this powerful attraction he exercised on her even now. Stop thinking of him like that! Michelle struggled to compose herself.

  “Is that all?” Michelle regarded him in what she hoped was a cold manner.

  Anthony's face was drawn with disappointment. “I guess. I'm really glad Dominic is going to recover.”

  “No thanks to those thugs who tried to kill him,” Michelle said angrily.

  “Do the police have any leads?” Anthony shifted from one foot to another.

  “A few,” Michelle lied. The police had no clues as to the identity of the attackers. “Hopefully they'll make an arrest soon.” She studied his face for signs of guilt.

  “I hope so, too.” Anthony started to move towards her then stopped. “If I can help you at all--�
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  “We're fine. Thank you.” Michelle went to the door and opened it.

  “Goodbye.” Anthony's shoulders drooped seeing her implacable expression. He nodded to Gracie before leaving.

  “Bye.” Michelle closed the door hard behind him.

  She kept her back to Gracie for a few seconds before turning around. “That's that.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Gracie asked in a soft voice.

  “No,” Michelle said in a curt tone. “Subject closed.”

  “If you say so. Well, what's next?”

  “Work. Thankfully my career in radio isn't dead. WDUP- 102 lost their reporter to a rival station. Steve Peters is the station manager now and he offered me a job. And I still haven't given up on the Housing Authority story.”

  “Will work be enough?”Gracie raised an eyebrow at her.

  Michelle went to the table and picked up a stack of papers. “I'll make it be enough.”

  ***

  “That's the third one this week, Anthony.” Cedric sat down heavily in the chair across from Anthony's desk. “I thought we had that job sewn up. Man, sure do find out who your real friends are when you're down.”

  “Um-hum.” Anthony continued to gaze out of the large window to his left that gave him a lovely view of the early spring day. The courtyard was bright with sunshine and the light green burst of new vegetation coming forth. But his melancholy expression was in stark contrast to the scene before him.

  Cedric got up and poured a cup of coffee. “Old man Taylor was stuttering and stumbling about some kind of delay. He's trying to back out because of those damn rumors. We oughta sue his behind. We signed a preliminary agreement with him.”

  “If you think we should,” Anthony said in a flat voice. He sat as still as before.

  “Damn straight. We got a letter from his assistant saying we should prepare the specs, too. Who does he think he is anyway? He's been in caught up in so many scandals, the reporters in this town have him on speed dial.”