As the Wicked Watch(86)
“Jordan, it’s Yvonne Alonzo. Do you have a minute?”
I didn’t give Yvonne my number. She must have gotten it from Pam.
“Sure, I was just headed to a meeting, but . . . what’s wrong?”
Yvonne sounded breathless. I could practically hear her heart beating through the phone. “Terrence came over, and he and Manny got into a fight.”
“They got into a fight? What happened?”
“After you left, I couldn’t get it out of my head, ya know, why Manny didn’t question him more about what he was doing with Masey. When he got home, I confronted him. He got real defensive at first. ‘Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?’ I told him after me and Pam talked to you, a lot of things didn’t add up.”
“But how did he end up in a fight with Terrence?”
“Manny blew up. He kept saying, ‘I don’t need this shit!’ and ‘Why are you talking about me to reporters?’ But I was like, ‘You mean, it never crossed your mind he could have something to do with Masey?’ And he said, ‘We’re going to straighten this out right now.’ Then he called Terrence and Terrence came over. I overheard Manny talking to Terrence on the phone. The way he sounded when he asked him to stop by. The fact he came over so fast, Terrence had to know what Manny wanted to talk to him about,” Yvonne said. “I was surprised how calm he seemed when he got here.”
“So then what happened?”
“Terrence met me and Manny downstairs in the barbershop. He seemed caught off guard that I was with Manny. Before we could say anything, he said, ‘Man, I’m gonna get that money I owe you.’ Apparently, Jordan, Manny lent him a thousand dollars. Manny told him it wasn’t about the money; it was about Masey. Terrence blew up. ‘Look, man, I’m so sorry about what happened with her, but what’s that got to do with me?’ That’s when Manny said, ‘You act like you hardly knew her, but that’s a lie.’ Before Terrence could respond, Manny asked him: ‘Were you messing around with her?’ Terrence just stood there. He wasn’t saying nothing at first, but then he tried to leave. He told Manny he wasn’t gonna have this conversation with him, and that he was out of here. Manny stood in front of the door and flat out asked him, ‘Did you do something to her?’ Terrence was like, ‘Get out of my face with that bullshit, man. Are you crazy?’ And Manny lost it. The next thing I knew, Manny had him on the floor, beating his ass. I was screaming at Manny to stop. I don’t know how Terrence got out from under him, but he took off running. Manny tried to run after him, but I grabbed him and begged him not to follow him. He could’ve had a gun in the car. I just begged him to let him go! Let him go!”
“And did he?”
“He had no choice. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, Terrence was in his car. He yelled out the window that he was going to call the police and ‘Your ass is going back to prison!’”
This is the worst thing that could’ve happened. If Terrence does make good on his threat and calls the police and they come for Manny, my name might come up, and I don’t need detectives knowing I was over there talking to Yvonne and Pam.
“Yvonne, I’m so sorry that happened. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Where’s Manny now?”
“He’s in the kitchen with some ice on his hand,” she said.
“Call me if the police show up at your house, okay? Sorry, but I’ve got to get to this mandatory staff meeting. I’ll call you later.”
I have less than four minutes to get to the newsroom town hall. I grabbed my cell phone and called Joey on the way upstairs to tell him what happened, but he didn’t answer.
What is with this guy, never answering his phone?
“Joey, I just heard that Manny and Terrence got into a fight. I’m heading into a meeting. Call me!”
I made it to the town hall just under the wire. The editorial staff was packed tightly into the large conference room overlooking the theater district, Broadway in Chicago. The email from Ellen and Nussbaum described the event as a time for people to vent but also be reminded that we have an obligation “to follow the facts wherever they lead,” a journalistic cliché if ever there was one.
I grabbed a seat next to Simone Michele, the daughter of veteran reporter Grayson Michele. Although Simone was the beneficiary of nepotism, she was a strong reporter in her own right. I liked Simone a lot and wished we had more time to spend together, but with her working the overnight shift, it just wasn’t possible.
She greeted me warmly. “Hey, Jordan, how’ve you been, girl? It’s so good to see you!” she said.
“You too!” I replied. “Remind me that we have to find a way to make these drinks happen one day.”
Nussbaum, as important as it was to have this conversation, recognized it was Friday evening, and people would be somewhat distracted, thinking about how long it would take them to get home on the Kennedy Expressway in the notorious evening traffic. So he opened the meeting at six on the dot.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for coming,” he said.
Simone whispered in my ear, “Like we had a choice.”
“I know you all want to get home. But clearly, if I didn’t think this was important, we wouldn’t be here,” Nussbaum said, then launched into his spiel about how Chicago is the lead story nationally, and there are concerns that violence will spill out onto the streets if police have wrongfully accused these boys of murder. “Now, with all these national reporters coming in, I want to make sure our newsroom is a united front and everyone feels liberated to speak up and talk about the impact this case is having on all our lives, professionally and personally.”