Diary of A. . . (13 page)

“You’ve asked for cash before?” This was
news to me.

“Yes,” she exasperated. “Nina gave us the
money to buy the house in Bloomfield Hills.”

“Gave? That house had to cost three hundred
thousand dollars. And Nina just gave it to you?” I didn’t even know
my mother had that kind of money to give to anyone.

“She’d do anything to keep me quiet.
Especially if it meant making her look good in front of you.”

“What are you talking about, Lauren?”

“I’m just saying not everything you know
about our mother is the truth. Once I confronted her about who our
daddy was, she was eager to give Mitchell and me the money for the
house. But when we needed help again, and I had more information,
she denied me.”

I was getting angry at my sister. “So you
want me to help on a stupid machination while you blackmail our
mother?!”

“It’s not a machination, Sheryl. I know E’s
alive and if you prove it-”

“What will it prove? That you think I’ll
think differently of Nina because she kept the fact that E was our
father? She had her reasons. Any mother would make sacrifices to
protect her children.”

“She was protecting the money that E left
us!” Lauren exclaimed.

“What money?” Now I was pacing my hotel room
like a caged animal.

“E had money. I knew about it when Nina
became sick and you couldn’t get to the hospital to help her get
things taken care of, because you were in Florida. I went to Nina’s
home and saw a letter from some lawyer about an account in E’s name
that she had access to. I already knew that he was our father, but
I didn’t know about the money.”

“So what? She used that money to take care
of us.”

“That money was ours to do with as we
pleased, not hers. You got a scholarship? What did I get? Two years
of community college. She denied us our money.”

“Look, Lauren I’m not going to sit here and
mince words with you on whether the money was ours or not.”

“Ask her. Ask her about the money. That’s
how she was able to give Mitchell and me the money for the
house.”

“And now you want her to help you with
living costs? Why didn’t you ask me? Why did you have to blackmail
her?”

“Cause that money belongs to me!” Lauren
screamed selfishly.

I was quiet as I assessed my sister’s
madness. “Ever since we were kids you always thought you were
getting the short end of the stick, Lauren. You always wanted
everyone to overly care about you and hold your hand. The reason
you got two years of college is because you didn’t want to accept
the scholarship Nina worked damn hard to find you.”

“That was for a school all the way in the
south. An all girls’ school. I didn’t want to leave Detroit.”

“Spellman is a damn good school to go to,
but what would you know. What would you care?! Get off your
motherfucking high horse and accept what’s given to you, you little
bitch.” I slammed the phone down and screamed in the closest
pillow.

I knew I was wrong to say those things, but
Lauren was a shallow selfish bitch! And I was not going to help her
play games with people anymore!

Entry Twenty-One

Colonel Debner was a husky Polish man with a
Southern drawl. He looked angry when he stepped into the private
meeting room. He reminded me of a very old Mel Gibson.

Another old man followed. This one reminded
me of Colonel Sanders, but he walked with a cane. He was dressed in
black and had a mischievous amused gleam in his soft brown
eyes.

“You one of Mr. Howard’s people?” Colonel
Debner asked. “I hope not that bitch that’s been communicating with
my staff. Umm, Mrs. Nabors?” He looked ready to go to war.

Demurely, knowing he had come for a battle,
I said, “No, sir, I’m Ms. Banks and yes, I do work for Earl
Howard.” I outstretched my hand with my most confident ‘feel
comfortable’ smile from ear to ear.

“This here is my friend, Judge Knowles Knox.
We were having an amicable discussion and I didn’t want to part
company as of yet. So he’s opted to join us.” He said it as if he
could care less about what I thought about it.

“Meaning,” the judge said from behind a
frumpy white moustache. “He’s holding me hostage.”

I saw the teasing look on the judge’s face
and invited them to have a seat. They were complete gentlemen.
Colonel Debner even helped me sit before the two of them sat across
from me.

I felt a little uncomfortable because the
Colonel had brought in someone who could give him legal advice. I
didn’t know if I should avoid specifics of business and keep the
conversation amicable or should I just not talk business at
all.

“Let’s get down to business,” the Colonel
said immediately.

“Damn, Houser, let the lady catch her
breath,” the judge snapped with a tease. “You’re always
rushing.”

“I don’t have the time or the place to
wait.”

Judge Knox ignored this and asked me, “Where
are you from, Ms. Banks?”

“Detroit,” I answered, not at all minding
that the judge wanted to bullshit for awhile.

“Hey! Ain’t that where your new
goddaughter-in-law is from?” Colonel Debner asked. “What they got
in that city for you people? A fountain of beauty for everyone to
bathe in.”

That was somewhat of a compliment – I
think.

“What he means,” the judge interpreted
apologetically. “Is that my godson just married a beautiful
African-American woman named Tanner and she’s from Detroit, too.”
He shot his friend a hard look.

“Do you know her?” the Colonel asked.

I know I was raised to respect my elders,
but his question offended me. Just because I’m black and from
Detroit, doesn’t mean I know every damn body in the motherfucking
city. I played it cool, overly reminding myself that this was
business. “No, sir, I don’t know her.”

“You’d enjoy her,” the judge said. “When
does your flight leave for home?”

“Tomorrow morning,” I responded.

“Would you care to go to dinner tonight?”
the judge asked.

“Dammit, Knowles, I can’t go no fucking
where. You know that,” the Colonel said angrily, glaring at his
friend.

“I wasn’t asking for your company, Houser.
I’ll gladly entertain your guest, while you busy yourself
destroying people’s lives.”

Both men glared at each other. I had a
feeling this was some past shit the judge had thrown up on the
Colonel. I gathered that not a lot of people tried to rile the
Colonel, but the judge looked as if he could care a rat’s ass what
the Colonel could do to him.

I broke the tension when I spoke softly,
“I’d love to go.” Why the hell did I accept? Damn fool and clearly
not thinking straight.

“Now can we get down to business?” the
Colonel asked.

I knew I wasn’t going to get out of not
addressing his problems, so I spoke up to get the upper hand, “I
should let you know that I was just assigned your case. However, as
your new customer specialist, I plan on making sure your needs are
met.” I opened up the Debner file. “Now as I understand, some of
your receivers are having trouble with orders?”

“Yes!” the Colonel answered vehemently. “I
hired y’all ‘cause Earl Howard assured me I’d get no headaches
dealing with them damn bitchy people. But that Nabors’ lady is
saying that my people are at fault for not responding to orders
placed, when we’ve never received them.”

It seemed a simple matter of their word
against his, because when I spoke to the other people who also had
a problem with the Colonel’s company, they were saying the same
thing. Miscommunication and Erin not handling the situation
delicately.

“Well, I can understand your frustration,
Mr. Debner, and I’ve already started investigating each and every
problem in an effort to correct them. I just ask that you give me a
couple of weeks, some leverage during that time to assuage people
and offer confidence that this will not happen again.”

“Two weeks?” Colonel asked suspiciously.
“That long?”

“Rome was not built overnight. I’m a woman,
but unfortunately, I don’t possess a wand to make it all go away.
But I’ll do my damndest to get the problem off your shoulders as
soon as possible.”

“Oh, I like her,” the judge said. “Two weeks
is enough time, Houser, to decide on whether you want to keep
Howard’s services or not. He sure knew who to send to make you
speechless. That other girl pissed me off, too, and I haven’t even
spoken to her.”

“Other girl?” I questioned to make sure I
knew who they were speaking about.

“That Erin lady. I had a feeling she was
trying to make Houser change his decision about using Howard’s
services.”

“I hope in two weeks you’ll see that we are
a valuable asset to your company, Mr. Debner.”

The Colonel looked doubtful, but he nodded
reluctantly.

After letting the judge know I’d be ready by
five-thirty, I went to my room to rest more. I hoped that tonight
was going to be a somber experience.

***

The judge sent a private limousine to drive
me about forty-five minutes outside of New York to a massive estate
that looked like half the size of the Pentagon. I felt totally
under-dressed in a black, after five, Marc Jacobs flowing dress
with solid Donna Karen pumps. The dress had rhinestone highlights
and a plunging neckline.

I’d added a faux ponytail to my hair and
placed ringlets about my face to hide my large forehead. I wore
rhinestone earrings and a bracelet, plus a matching rhinestone
necklace. I knew I looked good, but was it good enough for a place
like this?

Soon as the limousine stopped, a
mid-thirties man with premature gray hair, dark Hispanic looks and
startling green eyes walked up to me.

“Sir Richard Rose Sanchez,” he said with a
bow.

I had never been anywhere close to any kind
of real royalty. I wasn’t sure if I even curtsied right. “Ms.
Sheryl Banks,” I introduced.

“Miss?” he questioned with a wicked glint in
those beautiful eyes. “Godfather said to treat you like a lady, but
I think I’ll treat you like a queen.”

Oh, he was a real charmer. I could tell he
usually got what he wanted and it was nice to be wanted by him.

Richard held out a lean muscular arm. He was
about six feet tall and looked so good wearing a Ralph Lauren grey
pinstriped suit that seemed specially tailored for his body.

“I noticed you said sir before your name.
Does that make you a real royal something from England?” I
asked.

He chuckled. “Something like that. My mother
has a royal bloodline and we are titled from the queen herself, but
it’s nothing compared to my brother. He’s a duke of England.”

Oh lawd! What the fuck had I gotten myself
into? I started to believe this chick Tanner really wasn’t from
Detroit. See, lots of people like to claim to be from our city
because nobody knew where the fuck Suburban cities like Dearborn,
Ferndale, or Grosse Pointe Woods were. These same people got their
rich education, lived high off the hog and only stepped foot in the
city when they had a charity event to attend.

No black chick from Detroit would ever be
compatible with a damn duke! That shit only happened in fairy
tales.

Entry Twenty-Two

The inside of the house was mind-boggling.
It was a palace with high ceilings, marbled floors, a large
staircase and expensive paintings on the walls.

Richard spoke about how his ancestors had
used the house to room freed slaves. How though his family now
lived in it as their permanent house in America, they also owned
property in England, Italy, Spain and even Africa.

I knew he was covertly bragging, but his
eyes couldn’t lie, he was attracted to me.

“What do you do?” Richard questioned.
“Godfather only described you as an intriguing young woman from
Detroit, but I thought there could only be one like that.”

“Who is the other?”

“My sister-in-law, Duchess Tanner
Sanchez.”

Uggghhh! I wanted to say out loud.

I was still in a bit of disbelief about this
black duchess from Detroit. I was just waiting to meet some
bourgeois heifer with a bourgeois attitude that I had to sit all
night with a fake ass smile on my face for. Or worse, she could be
a nasty gold digger who just lucked upon opening up a duke’s nose
until he couldn’t even see straight.

I answered Richard, trying not to sound
disgusted at the prospect of meeting this ‘Tanner.’ “I’m a customer
specialist for my company.” I passed him a business card. “How long
have they been married?” I inquired casually.

“A year now,” he answered. “Drink?”

I was too nervous to drink, but I needed it.
“Anything.” I sat on a silk Victorian settee.

Richard fixed me a scotch on the rocks and
one for himself before sitting beside me.

“Will your godfather be joining us?” I asked
hopefully. The judge seemed as if he would be a better
conversationalist than this lecherous Richard and the most likely
airhead, ‘Tanner.’

I knew it was wrong of me to judge before
meeting, but there was no way a sister from Detroit could have
acquired a piece of this billion dollar place. Things like that
don’t happen to people.

“Yes, he’s around here somewhere. But
please, Ms. Banks, tell me all about you.” He placed a hand on my
knee.

This man was trying hard like a playa-playa
to get into my panties. I was honored, yet Richard looked like a
man that loved to put notches in his bedpost for any beauty that
came his way. Maybe his brother was like that, too. Either way, I
wasn’t about to be Richard’s prize tonight.

Before I could politely find the words to
tell him that, a black woman entered the room in a very beautiful
and elegant salmon dress. She couldn’t have been much older than
myself with long brown hair flowing past her shoulders and soft
light brown skin that looked like coffee with too much cream.