Status s-1 Page 3

  Kenneth blinked. He had misjudged Rodrick completely. From some of Rodrick’s status updates about Christ and the Holy Spirit, he thought Rodrick had come out of jail on a church kick, like some of his other homeboys he knew that left the streets alone. He’d hoped Rodrick wouldn’t think twice about the message he posted on his wall. But it was becoming clear that Rodrick was spiritually fucked up.

  “Uh… well…” Kenneth stammered. “If yall like each other, that’s coo’ wit’ me, bro. I apologize. I’ll delete that shit I posted immediately.”

  “Give me your phone,” Rodrick said. “I’ll do it for you.”

  Kenneth handed over his cell phone, but as soon as it left his fingertips, a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute! Give it back so I—”

  But Rodrick already had the screen unlocked. Rodrick’s face lit up with rage, and Kenneth skeeted out a spittle of pee in his pants before clenching his bladder tight. Rodrick was staring at the Site profile of his baby’s mother, Tyesha Fenty.

  “You planning to do harm to my family, too?!” Rodrick boomed.

  “I was just looking through her photos, Rodrick! I swear to God!”

  Rodrick jumped to his feet and shot Kenneth in the forehead, the bullet’s velocity slinging him out the chair onto the floor in a heap. He reached over the table and let off several more shots into his body. “Don’t ever use the Lord’s name in vain!”

  Ed started screaming so loud he covered up his own ears. Terrified, he pressed his body against the wall and continued shrieking with enormous wide eyes. When Rodrick pointed the Glock 17 at him, he somehow opened up his lungs wider into a bloodcurdling holler.

  Boom!

  Silence.

  -

  Rodrick Al-Bashir: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals—or hot lead!—on his head." Romans 12:20

  August 15th, 2:39 a.m.

  CHAPTER 6

  Close to one o’clock in the afternoon, the lobby of the Missouri Department of Motor Vehicles was near empty. It was probably the rain, I guessed, pouring down in sheets outside that kept customers from showing up. This was rare. I hardly ever had a chance to check my phone for messages at this time of day.

  Standing at my counter with my phone hidden, I logged in to The Site and saw that 66 people had Liked Rodrick’s status. He had some Bible verse on there that talked about enemies. I probably should have made that post myself and tagged him in it, because how he treated me—coupled with the things I did for him—was like me feeding my enemy. Last night he called me back trying to explain himself. He denied sleeping with that guy Kenneth C.r.e.a.m.’s baby’s mother, said he was just hating on him like he’d been doing since high school. I told him how I felt, and how embarrassed I was. Then I did the dumbest thing ever—I let him come over… and I let him fuck me senseless. I had hopes to cook breakfast for him and Kylie this morning—I know Kylie would have loved eating breakfast with her daddy—but he was gone when I rolled over this morning and felt the empty side of the bed.

  He couldn’t even stay long enough for breakfast.

  My notification icon was lit so I clicked on it. I sucked my teeth when I saw a friend request from Ladykiller. Clicking “ignore,” I went to my newsfeed to see what people were getting into this weekend. As I scrolled through, I started to see a grave pattern.

  Joanne Dunley: Rest in peace.

  Mitch tiredofballin Walker: R.I.P my niggas

  Rita RealSpit Gibson: Two people’s lives were lost last night. I don’t and probably will never know the real circumstances behind their deaths, but they both will be in my prayers.

  Smitty Down4Whatever: R.I.P. Kenneth “C.r.e.a.m.” Murberry and Edward Young. We lost two real niggas.

  Christina MsFineGirl: I don’t understand why the police never catch these people.

  Janice Tillot: @Christina MsFineGirl. The police have leads. They said one of his Site friends is a suspect.

  Monica I’mProbably Wright: They could be right next to us in the grocery store. It’s scary. That’s why I’m moving away from Kansas City as soon as I can.

  Wendy ‘youlovetotaste’ Hartley: Stay out of my inbox! Just because Kenneth was my baby daddy don’t mean I know what happened to him!

  “Tyesha, I told you to stay off the phone while you’re at your counter.”

  Ruth Jameson, my supervisor, startled me. I quickly stuffed my phone in my pocket. This wasn’t the first time I had been caught using my phone while on the clock.

  “I was just checking my e-mails,” I lied.

  Ruth stared at me icily. “I don’t care what you were doing. It’s not allowed. And I’ve told you this for the umpteenth time. Do you want this job?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “I do. I’ll stay off my phone, Ruth. I’m sorry.”

  Ruth held her palm out. “Give me the phone, Tyesha.”

  The most absurd expression appeared on my face. “Give you my phone? I’m not giving you my phone. I’m 22 years old. I’m not a child.”

  “The people in my office told me to get any electronic devices from you,” Ruth said.

  “What people?”

  “Detectives. They’re in there waiting on you.”

  I glanced at her palm. “Are you serious? What do they want?”

  “They wouldn’t tell me. They just told me to get your phone before I sent you in. Is that the only thing electronic on you?”

  I started to walk away when Ruth grabbed my arm. I shrugged her off. “Don’t touch me, Ruth. I’m not giving you my phone. I know my rights.”

  Nervous wasn’t the word. I brushed the thighs of my skirt and buttoned the second button from the top on my white and violet pocket-front blouse, trying to look as presentable as possible, as I walked down to Ruth’s office. I patted my hair and wondered, Do I look guilty? My heart felt like it was about to explode.

  When I walked into Ruth’s office, one of the two detectives told me to shut the door and have a seat. They were both Black men, and they had on casual clothes. If Ruth hadn’t told me ahead of time, I probably wouldn’t have known they were detectives.

  “My names Detective Frisk,” said the one that was sitting down behind Ruth’s desk. The other detective was perched on the edge of it. He wore a close-fitted gray tee that hugged his toned muscles, with black and gray Nike Shox on his feet. “And this is my partner, Detective Copeland.”

  Copeland was closest to me and extended his hand. I shook it.

  “I know my rights,” I said. “And I don’t have to give you my phone if I don’t want to.”

  Frisk looked confused. “We’re not asking you for any of your property. We just have some questions.”

  I knew it. Ruth just wanted my phone to be an ass.

  “We’re here to talk to you about an incident that took place last night, roughly around 10:00 p.m.,” Frisk said. “Two young men by the names of Edward Young and Kenneth Murberry were murdered and we’d like to know if you had any information to provide us.”

  I tensed. “I don’t. Why would I?”

  It was almost as if Detective Copeland had seen my answer coming. He quickly reached in his pocket and pulled out a photo that he laid on the desk in front of me.

  “Do you know this man?” he asked.

  Of course I did. It was the father of my child, Rodrick Brown. It was a mugshot of him from a couple years ago when he caught a possession of narcotics charge. His dreads hung down his face like tangled black ropes.

  Without thinking, I said, “No, I don’t know him.”

  Detective Frisk sighed.

  Copeland picked the picture up and held it close to my face. “This isn’t your baby daddy?”

  “Oh, yeah it is,” I retracted. “I didn’t recognize the picture. It’s a bad photo.” I squinted at it. “Yeah, that’s him. Yall think he knows something about it?”

  “We n
eed to have a chat with him, that’s all. He’s on our list of people to talk to. Do you know where we can locate him?”

  I shook my head no. “I haven’t seen him in like a month.”

  Detective Copeland started biting his bottom lip as if he was irritated.

  Leaning forward, balling his hands together in a fist and placing them on the desk, Detective Frisk looked at me hard. “Ms. Fenty, or should I say Tyesha816, we’ve had a looksee at your Site page. You uploaded a photo of him and your daughter to your page eight days ago. And on Rodrick’s Site page, he uploaded a photo of his daughter holding a large amount of cash on your daughter’s birthday. And you’re trying to tell me you haven’t seen him in a month?”

  “I haven’t,” I said adamantly.

  “Let’s cut the shit. If you keep lying to us, you can get in some serious trouble. This is a double homicide we’re talking about. We already know that Kenneth made a threatening post to Rodrick Brown yesterday that we can’t confirm because it was mysteriously deleted. But this morning Rodrick Brown made a post that has raised questions about his culpability in the murders. And we’ve dialogued with several of your Site friends, and they’ve told us that he’s been known to stay with a lot of women, but mainly with you. Our records stating that he home-planned to your house corroborate that.”

  “He lived with me when he first got out. That’s it. And he’s never lived with no other females either. It’s a bunch a liars on The Site. Yall are detectives, yall should know that. And I may have uploaded that picture of Rodrick and my daughter recently, but that don’t mean it was taken recently. I haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe it’s not been a whole month, but it feels like it.”

  “We need to know where we can find him,” Copeland said.

  I asked, “Do I legally have to answer any more questions?”

  “Not at this moment, no. But if you’re called before the court, yes, you will,” Frisk emphasized. “What we’re trying to do is avoid involving you in the whole court process entirely. We’d hate for both the father and mother of your daughter, Kylie, to end up in jail. I’m being real wit’ you here.”

  This didn’t feel real at all. I was being threatened with jail time and the unimaginable—losing my child. I was surprised they hadn’t brought up Gideon. If it was murder involved, they must have been together, right? Maybe it was because Gideon didn’t have a Site page, and thus the detectives had no idea who he was.

  “Tell us what you’re thinking,” said Frisk.

  I looked at both detectives. “No comment,” I said.

  * * *

  As soon as it was time for me to clock out, I raced outside to my car. The rain poured down on me as I fished my phone out and called Rodrick. I had him on the line when I opened my door and slid in the dry driver’s seat.

  “Hello?”

  “Rodrick, detectives just came up to my job looking for you!”

  “Did you tell them anything?”

  “No, baby. I didn’t give them shit. They tried to threaten me but I wasn’t going for it,” I told him excitedly. I don’t know what it was. Whenever I got a chance to take up for Rodrick or protect him, my adrenaline would get going. “They was mad at me when I left that office. I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

  “Good job, baby.”

  “What are you gonna do?” I asked.

  “God told me to turn myself in.”

  “What?!”

  “Look, Tyesha. Everything’s gonna work itself out. I’ve been seeing what people have posted on The Site and the assumptions and threats they’re making. I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. It’s in God’s hands. But as a precautionary measure, I’ma have Gideon come through your house and chill till I get released. Just to be on the safe side.”

  “What if you don’t get released? You’re on parole, Rodrick. You could get violated. And you know your parole officer is an asshole.”

  “I hope I’ll be in and out before my parole officer gets word. With God, all things are possible.”

  I told him I loved him and told him to be careful and I hung up. I wondered what he was talking about when he said “threats.” I thumbed my screen and loaded up The Site again when there was a hard knock on my driver’s side window.

  Startled me good. And when I looked out into the rain, I saw Ladykiller with a hood pulled over his head.

  “Shit!” I screamed. I was frozen in fear.

  He held his hands up and mouthed “it’s just me.” Then he gestured for me to roll my window down.

  I turned my key—I didn’t start it; I was too scared to—just to trigger the car’s battery. Then I eased the window down halfway. The rain was loud and sprinkles bounced off his hood onto my arm.

  “Wussup, Tyesha? I thought that was you sitting in this Pontiac. I recognized it from the photo you put up when you first bought it.”

  “How did you know I work here?”

  “You work here?” He laughed. “Damn, I didn’t know that. I just came to get my car tagged up.”

  “I have to go.”

  His expression changed. “You had to go last time.”

  “It’s raining. And you’re gettin’ it in my car.”

  “Oh, sorry. Well, I’ll talk to you later. But before I forget, I saw that you might have accidentally unfriended me on The Site. It might’ve been a virus or something. I tried to send you another friend request but you haven’t accepted it yet. Have you been checking your notifications?”

  “Not really. I could’ve sworn we were still friends on there. I was wondering why you haven’t been commenting on my posts.”

  “I’ve been wanting to, trust me.”

  “I’ll add you later,” I lied, firing up my engine. “But right now I have to go. Nice seeing you.”

  “Why later?”

  “Huh?”

  “Add me now.”

  “My phone battery is low and it’s about to die. I don’t want to use the last of my battery loading up The Site.”

  “Ain’t that a car charger hooked up to yo cigarette lighter?”

  I glanced at my console. The logo on it was glowing, so I couldn’t say it didn’t work. Shit!

  “Add me now,” Ladykiller said firmly.

  I swallowed. “Okay.”

  -

  Tyesha816 and Ladykiller are now friends

  CHAPTER 7

  Me and Gideon sat awkwardly in two of my daughter’s baby stools. The seats were low, about six inches off the ground. My knees almost touched my chest, and Gideon’s knees were touching his. I was laughing inside and felt bad for him at the same time.

  We both held pink cups full of imaginary vodka, as we watched Kylie open up her toy microwave and pull out a tray of plastic cupcakes.

  “It’s done, lady and gentleman,” said Kylie in a serious yet sweet tone.

  I giggled. My daughter was really in character. This was most definitely a result of all the food shows I made her watch with me.

  She put plates in front of us and placed two cupcakes on them, then laid small leafs on them too. She stood up straight with her hands behind her back, waiting for us to taste it. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a pink ribbon holding it in place. She was the cutest cook in the world.

  “And what am I about to eat, young lady?” asked Gideon.

  “Cupcake wit’ s’pinkles and vanilla icing. I mix it wit’ honey and onions and China beans.”

  “And what’s that on the side?” I asked.

  “It’s a leaf.”

  “Oh.” I expected her to make up a fancy edible name for the leaf. I smiled, feeling stupid. “A leaf, right. Nice presentation.”

  And then there was a quick beep that came from my pocket. It was the sound my phone made when I had a notification from The Site. As soon as I reached in my pocket, my daughter stopped me.

  “No, Momma,” Kylie whined. “You said you would play wit’ me and not get on ta Site.”

  “It might be something important, baby.”


  “More important tan me?”

  Nothing was more important than my daughter, but if the threats I had been reading on The Site held any weight, me and her could be in real danger. Since I got off work, about five people—relatives of Kenneth and Ed—had posted in my inbox, threatening to harm Rodrick or me if I didn’t cooperate with the police. One of Kenneth’s younger cousins simply posted, “Bang! Bang!” Gideon told me not to take any of the messages seriously. He said people who hurled threats online never followed through. I wasn’t so sure.

  Gideon brought me out of my thoughts. “Honor your promise,” he said to me.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. Maybe it was just some spam or a creepy post from Ladykiller. I could check it later.

  I took my hand out my pocket and showed my daughter my palm. “No phone, as promised,” I said. Gently, I picked up one of the cupcakes and brought it to my lips, then took a bite of the air as if I actually bit into the cake. Chewing, I said, “I can taste the honey. Good job.”

  Kylie didn’t smile. She simply nodded. Like a real chef.

  My legs started to cramp so I stretched them out. My phone beeped again and my heart actually began to thump a little faster. It was anxiety. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d went this long without checking my profile page, other than when I was asleep. For the next half hour, as me and Gideon helped my daughter make a beaded necklace out of candy, I kept touching my thigh out of habit, feeling for my phone but immediately pulling away to keep my promise.

  No phone, I kept reminding myself.

  Gideon clutched his stomach. “I think those cupcakes are running through me,” he said.

  I giggled.

  “You know where the bathroom is,” I stated.

  He nodded, and scurried with a doubled over posture to the rest room.

  “I put extra honey in his,” Kylie whispered to me.

  “Why?”

  “So he get sick,” she said.

  My mouth hung open. I was amused and confused. “Why would you want him to get sick?”