Betrayed (Season Two)

EPISODE SEVEN

The War

The Recording (in Izarah's words)

Detective Edmond James wanted to meet in a crowded place, which was strange because cops that sell for me usually don't like to be seen with me in public. I reached the open seat at the opposite end of the table and immediately a waitress approached to take my order.

"Bourbon, on the rocks," I told her, removing my coat. She scratched down the request on a pad and clicked closed her ballpoint pen before stepping away. I sat across from Edmond, who was sipping what looked to be a martini. I watched the olive spin around the glass as he drained the drink. "What's the problem?" I asked him.

"The problem," he began, lowering the empty glass onto the table next to a large manila envelope, "is your constant thinking that I work for you."

I sighed heavily.

"Now that you got that off your chest, I guess I can go." I started to stand up. "It was good seeing you, Detective."

"Sit the fuck down!" he said heatedly. Gradually I sat back down. The first rule on the street was to know when to play your cards. This nigga was a cop and from what I could tell, he'd had a few too many. That was not a good time for me to show my balls. "The arrangements are changing. You work for me now or you may find yourself in a situation that might not look too well on your clean record."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. It became obvious to me why he wanted the public place. If I had had a gun on me, I would've pulled it. Out here, in public, he had the badge and that gave him all the power.

"I got something for you to do. Sorta like a job," he said darkly. "You do this and I'll leave your top boys alone, including your brother."

I nodded.

He slowly slid the manila envelope over to my side of the table the moment the waitress arrived with my drink. I tipped her and she scurried off.

"What is this?"

"The job," he said vaguely. I opened the letter and wrestled out what appeared to be several photos of a young woman. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Never in my life had I been smitten by a mere photograph. I had to resist the urge to stroke a hand over the face of the picture. "Her name is Utessa."

"What do you want me to do with her... take her to a ballet?"

"Simple plan," he replied flatly. "I want you to kill her."

Surprised, I fell back into my seat, setting the photos down. "That's not what I do."

"It is now," Edmond said mirthlessly. "This is not up for debate. She's a problem that must be eradicated..."

Utessa stops the tape.... I looked up towards her as though she just cut off one of my fingers. She moved around the locker room, causing a half-naked man - who didn't expect to see a woman in here - to dive into an open locker face first.

"What's the problem?" I asked her. "You already knew this much."

"It's just," she tried to say but caught her tongue between her teeth. She finally stopped pacing the room before finishing. "It's just that I never heard it for myself. He said it so easily, casually, as though I never mattered to him... as if I wasn't his wife at all."

"I understand that, but I think it's best if we continue," I told her. She nodded almost imperceptibly. I turned away from her and for the second time, I pushed play on the recorder.