Don't Say No

  DON’T SAY NO

  Linda Verji

  Copyright © 2015 by Linda Verji

  Smashwords Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means with the prior consent of the author, excepting brief quotes in reviews.

  This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contains Explicit Sex, Language and Violence suitable for a Mature Audience 18+

  ‘It’s hard to wait around for something you know might never happen; but it’s even harder to give up when you know it’s everything you want’

  Author Unknown

  The Beginning

  Something bad always happened in The Section.

  The night’s silence was pregnant with danger. No cars hooted, no dogs barked, no children cried. Even the papers that littered the street lay still as death-not even a whisper of wind to flutter them. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for tonight’s evil to happen.

  The only sign of human life was a solitary nondescript couple, both in their late teens or early twenties, walking down the concrete footpath. The man was tall, slender and sported a tapered crew cut. Despite the night’s chill he wore nothing more than a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. But he walked with the confident swagger of someone unafraid of the evil that slithered in the dark corners of The Section.

  The woman only came up to his shoulder and was several shades darker than he was. Her navy sweatshirt swallowed her painfully frail body to pool around faded denim pants. But her diminutive figure was nothing new around here. Every day another painfully thin girl got raped, pregnant, high or died in these poverty infested streets.

  The couple’s scuffed sneakers barely punctuated the still night air as they made their way down the deserted street. Dim streetlights illuminated their path, the dirty glow like a beacon toward death.

  “We shouldn’t be here, Lanie,” Nicolás Gavilan mumbled.

  “You didn’t have to come with me,” Melanie Daniels, his girlfriend, replied.

  He snorted in response and griped under his breath, “Can’t believe I survived Iraq to come and get killed here.”

  Yes, they shouldn’t have been out here. Melanie knew exactly how dangerous it was to dare out of the relative safety of their apartment at this time of the night. She’d lived in The Section all her life and knew all too well the human monsters that lurked on the corners of these streets. If she had a choice, she’d be tucked up on the ratty couch she spent her nights on, uncomfortable-but safe.

  But she had no choice.

  Her brother, Marcus, was out here, somewhere, and she had to find him before trouble did. The last time he’d stayed out this late, he’d ended up in juvie for a month for boosting a car. She couldn’t afford the court fees or the anxiety that came with knowing her brother was in lock up.

  However, her determination to find him was no shield against fear. Her heart throbbed loudly in time to the rhythm of her own footfalls, and her ears were on high alert to catch any sound that didn’t belong. She almost jumped out of her skin when something smashed against a trashcan nearby. A quick turn of her head toward the sound revealed a cat jumping off the roof of Kutz Hair Hospital.

  “It’s okay.” Nic put his arm around her slim shoulders and settled her closer against him.

  Though she trusted him and knew that, as a soldier, he was the best person to be walking around with at night, it wasn’t that easy to dispel the icy fear cooling her blood. She nervously rubbed her upper arms as she said, “I should’ve checked on him after school.”

  “He is old enough to check on himself,” Nic said curtly.

  Melanie kept silent, unwilling to get into an argument over Marcus. Her younger brother was a topic they’d beaten to death and still couldn’t agree on. Where Nic thought it wasn’t her job to chase the fifteen year-old, Melanie wasn’t about to let her brother get killed because he didn’t have the common sense God gave a rock.

  They trailed the streets in search of Marcus, peering into each dimly lit alleyway with no success. They were about to give up when they heard it – loud arguing behind Mama J’s Cakes.

  “You said if I drop you a gram tonight you finna have all ma paper. Finna have all ma paper,” someone yelled.

  “C’mon RayRay, you been my link for how long? You know I’m good for it,” a pleading voice returned.

  At the mention of RayRay’s name, Melanie’s blood slowed in abject fear. Everyone knew Raymond ‘RayRay’ Walker by face, name and voice. His father, Big Ray, ran The Section’s underworld. From drugs, to brothels to protection rackets – Big Ray had his hand in every illegal racket in the neighborhood. Using The Runners, a gang of young men as his muscle, he maintained a chokehold over everyone not smart enough to get the hell out of the neighborhood.

  “Bitch, I ain’t runnin no Red Cross here. Ain’t running no Red Cross here,” RayRay yelled. “Yo, Stinger, tell this ho to gimme ma paper or I’m finna smoke her. Finna smoke her.”

  “On the real, give him his paper.” Melanie would’ve recognized Marcus voice anywhere.

  So now they were calling him Stinger? That stupid boy. How many times had she told him to stop hanging around with the Runners? But he wanted to be a man and help her support them. How about he be like other fifteen year-olds and go to school?

  When she started to turn the corner, Nic pulled her back. She whirled to demand he let her go, but he pressed a finger to his lips and mimed, “Wait.”

  She didn’t want to wait. She wanted to drag her brother out of that alleyway by the scruff of his neck. But she trusted Nic, so she stayed put and instead peered around the wall to get a better look down the alley.

  Tanisha, a known streetwalker and junkie, stood on one side of the alley. Her face caked in make up and dressed in a short, tight dress that gripped the rolls of fat on her body like a second skin, the woman tottered dangerously on skinny heels. Her voice hoarse, she begged, “RayRay, I swear I’ma get you the rest of your money by tomorrow.”

  RayRay, who was a full head shorter than Tanisha, looked like he was high on his own product. He bounced wildly on the heels of his blue sneakers while yelling, “Gimme my fuckin’ money. Gimme my fuckin’ money.”

  But despite RayRay’s histrionics, it was his two cohorts who drew Melanie’s gaze. The two, Vance and ‘Stinger’, lounged against the wall watching the proceedings with bored amusement.

  If RayRay was the Prince of The Runners, Vance was the group’s Head Psycho. Brutal, sadistic and unmerciful! Melanie had once seen Vance beat a late ‘tax’ payer to an inch of his life and laugh while doing it. Tattoos zig-zagged his light skin, from his bald skull and into the neck of his white t-shirt. Rumor had it that each tattoo represented a body dropped. Melanie had no reason to doubt the rumor. But despite his rank he still wore a red leather bandana around his wrist that marked him as a Runner and lackey to Big Ray and by extension RayRay.

  Then there was Marcus. Compared to Vance’s close to seven feet height, he looked like a baby. The top of his head barely reached Vance’s shoulder and saying he was half the other man’s size would be a generous description for his slight coltish body. Even on a good day he was thinner than Melanie. That snapback, the oversized t-shirt, the pants that started at his knees and the electric blue high-top trainers only made him look younger. Like Vance, he was wearing the red bandana around his wrist.

  He looked like a teenager with a death wish.

  But he seemed relaxed enough in the company of Vance and RayRay. Or maybe his relaxed vibe was because of the white home-ma
de cigarette between his fingers. Smoke rose lazily from Marcus half-opened mouth as he watched RayRay and Tanisha with a half-smile.

  Ugh! She was going to kill that boy. Only Nic’s firm grip on her arm kept her from marching right there, right now, and smacking him upside the head.

  Tanisha searched her sequined purse. “Just take this thirty and then-”

  “No, fuck that! Fuck that.” RayRay interrupted as he snatched the purse from her hand. Tanisha lunged for it, trying to grab it back but RayRay stepped to the side and Tanisha went sprawling to the concrete. She landed on her side with her legs up in the air and the dress rose to reveal that she had no underwear on.

  The Runners laughed and heckled at her as struggled to pull her dress down. Meanwhile RayRay rifled through her purse. He came up with a small cylindrical mass of white wrapped up in clear paper. He tossed it towards Marcus who caught it deftly.

  “You finna be my lesson to all these crack hos out here who think they can play with my paper. Finna be a lesson.” He pulled a gun from his hoodie and pointed it at the still prone Tanisha. “Don’t play with RayRay’s paper. Don’t play with RayRay’s paper.”

  The sudden tension was palpable. Tanisha cowered, Marcus straightened from the wall, Melanie stiffened, Nic’s grip on Melanie’s arm tightened. The only person oblivious to the strained atmosphere was Vance.

  Vance sounded bored as he suggested, “Let Stinger pop her.” He pulled deeply on his blunt. As the smoke seeped out of his nose and mouth he said, “She can be his first.”

  That was enough for Melanie. No one would be Marcus’s first anything. She yelled, “Marcus.”

  RayRay, Tanisha, Vance and Marcus turned their eyes toward the alleyway’s mouth. Melanie yanked her arm from Nic’s hold and emerged from their hiding place behind the wall. The moment Marcus saw her he dropped his blunt and stepped on it.

  “Mel?” He shot her a nervous look. “What you doing out here?”

  Melanie was aware of Nic standing beside her but right now her focus was on her brother. “Let’s go home.” She gestured for him to walk toward her.

  Marcus moved towards her but only made a few steps before Vance stopped him with a hand on his chest and pushed him backwards against the wall. Vance said, “Well, well, well, if it ain’t Melaaanie from the hood.”

  Melanie ignored him and called out, “Marcus.”

  Vance folded his arms over his chest and smiled. “You gon have to come and get him.”

  Did she dare go into the lion’s den? Did she even have a choice? Melanie started walking even before she made her decision. She’d forgotten Nic until his footfalls fell in rhythm beside hers. The thought of her brother left in the hands of The Runners kept her moving, but it was Nic’s presence that gave her the courage to walk straight to Marcus and take his hand. “Come on let’s go.”

  Vance’s voice cracked in the silence. “He ain’t going nowhere.”

  Up close, it was easy to see why the man was so feared. From his powerful build to the tattoos the man screamed ‘beware’. But it was eyes that chilled Melanie. His pupils were an eerie shade of amber, emphasized by their deadened glaze. Being touched by them was chilling, like being marked for death. That frozen gaze briefly lingered on Nic before it settled on Melanie, crawling up and down her body.

  Vance whistled. “Mm mm mm. Marcus you got a fine ass sister,”

  Marcus’s palm was cold in Melanie’s, mirroring the fear that glimmered in his eyes but he bravely started, “Man, she ain’t got nothin’ to do with -”

  Vance raised a finger and Marcus shut up.

  “Why you running around with these crackers, Melaaanie, when you can get a real nigga to lay that pipe down on you?” Vance asked, as if he wasn’t almost as light-skinned as Nic was.

  He took a step forward but Nic thwarted his attempt to get closer to Melanie by stepping in front of her.

  Over my dead body! Nic didn’t say it aloud, but the words were there in his stiff posture and the fisted hands. Vance chuckled as his gaze met Nic’s. The two men stared at each other. Despite Vance’s obvious size advantage, Nic didn’t move or cower away. Vance smile disappeared and for the first time Melanie saw emotion in his eyes. Anger.

  Sudden fear for Nic swept through her and she grasped his upper arm. Vance was too dangerous for him to be playing brave soldier right now. But he continued to stare at the larger man.

  “Shit, I ain’t got time for y’all. I ain’t got time for y’all,” Ray interrupted the stare down, his bouncing even more agitated as he waved the gun at Tanisha. “We smokin’ this ho or not? We smokin’ her or not?”

  “Looks like Melaaanie’s just in time to see her little brother become a man.” Vance pulled a gun from the back of his pants and without looking away from Nic and held it out to Marcus. “Time to be a man, Marcus.”

  Marcus hedged, “Man, my sister’s here and-”

  Vance smiled. “You kill the ho, or I kill your sister.”

  Melanie couldn’t see any other gun on him but she had no doubt that his was no empty threat. Marcus must’ve thought so too because his gaze shifted between Melanie and Vance, then he reached for the gun. On instinct, Melanie grabbed the gun before he could. Her brother wouldn’t be a killer.

  Her fingers closed around the barrel just as the sound of sirens filled the alleyway.

  “Popo,” RayRay yelled.

  Everything happened in a flash. One moment they were all in the alleyway, the next Tanisha had ducked behind the dumpster, and Vance, RayRay and Marcus were on the other side of the alley scrambling over the wire fence like trained high-jumpers. Before Melanie could react, headlights flashed at the mouth of the alleyway, blinding her.

  “Put your hands where we can see them.”

  She put them up; gun and all.

  “Whose gun is it?” The detective slammed a fist on the table sending a plastic cup of water tumbling.

  Melanie flinched at the loud sound but didn’t dare raise her eyes to the man seated opposite her. She kept her gaze on the table watching as the water trailed across the table and dripped to the floor.

  The detective tried again, this time adding a threatening growl to his voice, “Whose gun is it?”

  “I found it in the alley,” Melanie repeated for what had to be the one hundredth time this night. Her tone resigned, she added, “It was lying on the ground and I picked it up.”

  Resigned was her latest emotion in a vortex of many. First came the shock as the cops cuffed her and Nic, and shoved them into the back of one of their wailing cars. Then anger at the realization that this was Marcus’s fault and that he hadn’t even stayed to see if she was okay. Then came fear as she realized that she was about to become another black statistic in the penal system. Now she was at resignation because, despite her anger and fear, she knew what she had to do.

  If she snitched on Vance, Marcus was as good as dead.

  Once again, she had no choice.

  “So you’re telling me you just happened to be taking a walk in the dead of the night and, wonder of wonders, stumbled on a gun that’s been used in twenty three murders in the last year alone?”

  “Yes.” Melanie didn’t look up.

  “I’ve checked you out, Melanie. You’re a good girl, no record, good grades, working two part time jobs to help out your auntie. You’re not the kind of girl who should be in here. I don’t want to keep you in here. I don’t want to charge you with possession or murder,” the detective coerced. “Tell me who gave it to you and you can walk out of here right now. Clear and free.”

  Melanie kept silent.

  “Is it your brother’s gun?”

  “No.” Her response was quick, curt and loud. She lifted her chin, staring the detective square in the eye with steely determination and said, “Like I said, I found it on the street.”

  Disappointment flickered in the detective’s eyes. “If that’s how you want to play it then-”

  Before he could complete the sentence, the door flew
open revealing a uniformed cop. “Jensen, captain wants to see you.”

  Detective Jensen followed the uniformed cop out of the interrogation room leaving Melanie alone with her thoughts. She’d worked hard to keep her record clean so she could apply for Marcus’s custody and get them away from her aunt. Yet all it’d taken was one ill-advised night stroll and a dirty gun to ruin her plans.

  She supposed she should’ve expected it. Karma, it seemed, had it out for her. The bitch kept throwing Melanie problem after problem, curve ball after curve ball. Would she ever catch a break? What would happen to her now that she’d finally crossed the line from protective sister to felon?

  The sudden reopening of the door yanked her out of her thoughts. Detective Jensen walked back into the room, his mouth set in a hard straight line as he pronounced, “You’re free to go.”

  What? Melanie was too shocked to react.

  “Out,” Jensen barked and pointed to the door.

  Melanie scrambled out of the seat almost tipping it over in her haste to get out of the room. But before she exited she had to ask, “What about Nicolás?”

  “He’s waiting for you outside.”

  What had just happened? Had they found something to exonerate them? Did she care? Woohoo – she was free.

  Melanie fast-walked down the corridor, eager to get out of there before someone discovered that they’d made a mistake and hauled her back into the interrogation room. The main floor of the station was busy; arrestees being dragged into the station; a woman weeping as she stood in front of the desk of a harassed looking cop; calls coming in and calls going out.

  Her gaze bounced over the stream of people, searching for Nic. She found him lounging against the wall by the entrance almost at the same time his gaze found her. In what seemed like a split second she was across the room and in his arms.

  “Jesus, Lanie, you fucking scared me,” he muttered roughly as he pulled her into his embrace. A familiar electric awareness swept through her and her body luxuriated in his touch.

  “I’m sorry.” She owed him an apology. After all if it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t even be here.

  “Are you okay?” His low voice vibrated against her hair as he squeezed her waist.