Page 28 of Still Forever

I strolled into the meeting room with my briefcase.

Once I was inside, I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, which offered a panoramic view of the Legal District.

Today I would be making some business negotiations, and a nigga was dressed for the job.

I had come in my navy-blue suit and some Louboutin loafers, but depending on how the meeting went, I’d bring a new meaning to red bottoms. The door opened, which caused me to turn from my position and see who had entered.

“Appreciate you meeting with me today,” I said.

He reached out for me to shake his hand.

I took it. Then he motioned with his other hand toward the long meeting table for us to take a seat.

I pulled out the chair and sat with my hands clasped in front of me.

Across from me was the new Chief Judge of New York, Marck Caroll.

He was the youngest in the state's history to be appointed and challenged several laws related to drug crimes, but I wasn’t here to congratulate him on his hard work.

"No problem, the Jennings name is respected in the state. I couldn’t turn down the chance to work with you," he said, adjusting his cufflinks and waiting for me to lead the meeting.

“It’s funny you should say that. I’m not here to collaborate, I’m here because I have a request.” My voice was flat; I chose to skip the friendly tone and got straight to my reason for the visit.

He looked around like he was expecting someone to join us.

I could tell that he was uncomfortable by my change of demeanor.

Two guards took position outside the door, but that didn’t move me either way.

If I decided I wanted to take it there, they wouldn’t even be able to afford the cleaner’s fee after I left this bitch.

“How can I assist you?” He questioned, trying to mask his uneasiness.

Inside my briefcase was a folder containing everything I needed to broker this deal. I removed the documents and placed them one by one in front of Marck.

“I came to you to discuss Zohan Richardson.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar.”

“His case has been aired in seven states. The police murders. Front page news? You know him.”

He cleared his throat and looked at me. Then he nodded.

“My organization has a personal interest in him, and I need him to be released.”

“I-I can’t do that, that’s a very public case. The community wants justice-”

“Public?” I chuckled. “You know what’s not public?

The financial state that your family is in.

You’re damn near in the red. Your lenders want returns and not excuses.

The deadlines you’ve missed for repayments, the offshore accounts you’ve damn near drained.

The non-profit you started and are pulling cash from to fund your lifestyle, which is illegal by the way, that’s not public, but I know. ”

His eyes widened as I slid the proof of each document toward him. I could see the sweat forming over his eyebrow as he looked down, like the words would fade off the page. His face was now beet red, and he moved his neck side to side to loosen his collar.

He scanned each document as if he was trying to find an explanation, but then he slowly brought his eyes to me. “Look, I’m telling you, Jennings, my hands are tied. I can’t just free the man; they want to see someone held responsible.”

I sat in silence, silence that told him I was making myself perfectly clear.

“What do you want me to do?” He doubled down on his question.

“Find somebody, another scapegoat. I want Zohan to be released tonight. I also want complete immunity for all the members of my organization. If you perform your job well, I’ll provide you with a lump sum at the end of each year. Seven figures. That way, you can dig yourself out of the hole.”

He scoffed, “And you want me to believe that you’re being a humanitarian?”

“I never said I had a kind heart. I have a business to protect, I’m sure you know how that goes.” I adjusted my sleeves.

“So, you want me to break all my oaths?” He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. By now, the beads of sweat were running down his temple, and the way he kept using his thumb to spin his wedding band didn’t go unnoticed.

“You don’t have an issue breaking any of the other laws. Does the IRS know that Little Advocates Foundation is just an abandoned restaurant?” I shot back quickly.

“And if I refuse?”

“My next visit will be in a hoodie, sweats, and sneakers. And I won’t offer you a payment for shit.

” I made myself clear, as I took the Glock that I had underneath my blazer and set it on top of the briefcase.

I was over the back-and-forth. My calmness gave him the impression that he had a choice.

But I wasn’t asking him for a fuck thing.

His eyes widened, and they darted to the door like the niggas on the other side would come in any moment to save him. The look in his eyes told me everything that I needed to know.

Giving him Zo’s information, I rose from my position and tucked my gun back into my waistband. “Since I’m feeling generous today, I’ll let you think about it.” I gave him a smirk before I continued. I glanced at my watch.

“You have 5 hours to agree to my terms, find him an out, and get him released. If you choose to drag your feet, I have no choice but to believe that you don’t want to protect your other assets.”

I set down pictures of his wife at the gym, his children, and their private schools. His eyes widened as he quickly picked up the photos, and I smiled.

“Or this one, I can’t forget little Mikey. Mrs. Carroll know you have a two-year-old from the principal of your kids’ school? A cold world.” I shook my head as I set the last photo down and turned. He scooped it up like it would burn a hole through the table.

I exited the office as if nothing had ever happened in those chambers; his guards nodded as I walked out. I stepped onto the elevator and took it down to the main floor.

“Have a great day, Mr. Jennings,” The receptionist said as I continued to walk toward the glass doors and out of the building.

When I made it to my truck, I took the gun off my hip and put it into the center console.

I didn’t even need to use it. After I had exposed all his dirt and offered him cash, I could see the look on his face that he was going to take the bait.

He just knew that he had to act like he was hesitating.

I took out the phone to call Trouble.

“What’s up?” He said as he answered the phone.

“I just left the office with Carroll. Zo should be out tonight, and immunity secured,” I chuckled.

Once I hung up with Trouble, I was about to call KD and let her know that I was headed to the jet to go to Bolivia with Judah. But she sent me a message at the same time.

I opened it. It was a video of her on the bed in lingerie, legs wide, and moaning.

Wife: Two weeks of you being gone. Think of me…. hands optional but encouraged.

I chuckled and called her back. KD was everything I needed in this life. The wins, losses, moments we drifted apart, but found our way back. It all led to this. She was mine. Still. Forever.

Rocks cracked underneath the tires as we went down the dirt road to Santos’ house.

He had been our plug for the last eight years, and we had been to his home more times than I could count.

He looked forward to our visits now and would call and curse in Spanish if we ever went to the coca farm and left without visiting him first. Half the time, we didn’t talk about business; he just wanted our company.

He made sure his housekeeper made Saltenas for us to eat every time we came.

I sat in the back seat of the truck, eyes glued to the screen of my phone, texting KD. Judah sat beside me quietly, which wasn’t like him.

“You know what, G?” He asked no sooner than I had the thought. Like he could sense he was giving me too much damn peace.

“What’s up?” I took my eyes from the screen and gave him my attention.

He had never given me his; his eyes stayed locked on something out the window.

“You don’t think it’s fucked up that Santos got this big ass house at the end of the block? These muhfuckas look like they were all handmade, no blueprint, no foundation, just rocks and vibes.” He said, still never turning.

I chuckled. “Nigga, you high?”

“As fuck…” He admitted.

Looking up from the phone gave me the chance to look at my surroundings. The sky had darkened since we left the farm an hour ago. We had to make the visit to Santos as quick as possible. The weather in Bolivia wasn’t shit to play with.

Me: How’s it going at the clinic today?

Wife: A baby told me today that he screams into the toilet and flushes it. I have to try that shit.

I chuckled at her and responded to her message before I looked back out the window. It seemed like the deeper we got down the road, the darker it got. Eventually, by the time we arrived at Santos’ home, the sky looked like it was 7 p.m., but it was just after noon.

When the truck stopped at his estate, we both got out and walked up to the door. I rang the bell, and a woman came into view through the glass. I didn’t recognize this one. Santos rotated them out, and it seemed like as soon as they stopped looking good naked, they had to go.

She swung open the door, ?Es usted Jennings? Santos lo está esperando. (Are you Jennings? Santos is waiting for you.)

“Si,” Judah said, looking at the woman like he knew what she said. I chuckled, nigga was high as a kite and being his usual self.

"Entra, si ves algo que quieras, avísame. Incluso a mí." (Come in, if you see anything you want, let me know. Even me.) She winked as she stepped to the side and rubbed her hands down her body.

“The fuck she said?” Judah leaned over and whispered to me.