Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux Latrivia Nelson (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

still a symbol for the men of the Memphis Police Narc/Tact Unit…” Nicola looked out among the crowd. “As for what he was not…he was not a quitter. He would rather give his life, risk his life, than give up or stand down.” His eyes began to water, but he fought them back again. “He gave his all to his job, to his family, to his fiancée Trina, who misses him probably as much as his wonderful mother does. We’re all left a little less than ourselves without our friend, our brother, our son. But if we are to remember his memory properly, we must continue to fight injustice and…” Nicola looked over at Ivy. “To not give up when it is most convenient or the easy way out. K.C. Brooks was a man’s man. My right hand…and for a guy like me with little else outside of his friends…a rock. And I’ll miss him.”

Tears welled in the side of Ivy’s eyes as she looked up at Nicola. Was he not going to give up her? Was he going to ask for her? Closing her eyes, she wiped her cheeks and sighed. Making eye contact with him as he sat down, she mouthed hello. Too upset and hung-over to say anything, he looked at Grey once and sat down without acknowledging Ivy. Sinking back down in the seat, Ivy rubbed her stomach and looked at Grey. What was that? What was going on? What about the speech? Maybe the speech was about Trina? Maybe, Nicola had given up on her?

**

After the funeral, Nicola sat in the den of Brooks’ mother’s mid-town home sipping on a small glass of water and listening to the other policemen that surrounded him holding various conversations about Brooks’ endless valor and unmatched dedication to the force. It amazed him now how everyone had only wonderful things to say about Brooks now that he was dead.

When he was alive, Brooks was respected but not nearly as loved as others had made him out to be that morning. Maybe this was an idea of what it would be like when he passed. People would spend a week celebrating his death and then the next week, he would be forgotten. Some new drug dealer would take over the old guy’s corner. Some new cop would be assigned. And the world would continue to turn. Dazed and numb from drinking for days, he looked into the television blankly tapping on the armrest.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Nicola looked up to see Trina. He stood up and offered her a seat, but she declined.

“I’m cool, Nicola,” she said sitting across from him the black leather sectional.

“How are you?” Nicola instantly noticed her puffy red eyes. He only wished that he could have done something to help her through all that she was going through. Regardless of what Brooks had done on the side, he felt as though his friend loved Trina dearly. He just didn’t know how to show it.

“I could be better,” Trina smiled at an officer who raised his cup at her from across the room. “But, I’m more worried about you. You…look like shit,” she said under her breath.

“Thanks,” Nicola said smiling. “I try.”

Trina took Nicola’s hand in hers and held it tightly. “Whatever happened has happened, and there is no going back. It is not your fault that he got killed, and it is not your place to mourn him ‘til it kills you. Plus, you got Caesar. I’m sure that Brooks would have wanted that most.” Holding up his chin, she looked at his discolored face. “I bet you haven’t had a decent meal since Brooks hit the ground.”

“Not a bite.” Nicola stared down at the ground ashamed of the way he looked.

“You can’t continue to do this to yourself, you know.” Trina sighed.

“I’m on leave now, since we finally broke one of Caesar’s captains for the information we needed…it’s Director’s orders. I’m on a flight back home to Miami first thing in the morning. I figured seeing my family would do me some good.” Nicola’s stomach growled.

“Well, what about Ivy? Have you talked to her?” Trina already knew that he had not, but she wanted to make a point of reminding him to do so.

“In the state that I’ve been in, it’s a good thing that I haven’t. She probably wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me.” Nicola cleared his voice.

“Well, she’s been worried sick.” Trina stood up as Brooks’ mother walked into the room. “I’m going to talk to Mrs. Brooks. You just make sure that you call her before you get on that plane.”

“I will. And, I’ll leave my number so that if you need anything…” Nicola said trying to think of Trina. God only knew the way that she must be feeling.

“Yeah, thanks” Trina said rubbing his hand.

Watching as Trina walked away, some of Nicola’s bitterness disappeared. He admired how strong she seemed to be and how devoted she was to Ivy even in her crisis. However, he was a different story. He had proven to be weak and breakable in a time that his family and friends needed him most. He had neglected the living for dead and seemed to be digging his own early grave. He ran his fingers through his oily, unwashed hair and straightened his suit as he made his way out of the den to the restroom.

Waiting for the restroom door to open, he sat on stoop in the hallway, looking at the portraits of Brooks and his sisters that decorated the wall. They were all perfectly aligned in golden frames and served as a backdrop to a dusty rose-colored paint that matched the rose-colored carpet and white boarders and trim. It almost reminded him of something he had seen as a child in his cousin’s dollhouse.

After a moment, the bathroom door opened, and Ivy walked through the door clutching her purse. Stunned, she stopped in the entrance