If You Don't Know Me (16 page)

S
oon as the front door opened, I knew exactly where I was.

“Hi, I'm Charles Singleton. The last time we met, you didn't see my face.” He extended his hand.

That was because dude had kidnapped me and had his bodyguards bring me here.

His weak voice was all I'd remembered of him that day as he'd sat in a chair with his back facing me. His dining room was dark. Not pitch black though. Security had sat me at a long table. As I listened to Charles telling me how he wanted Chicago dead, he sounded old with that same choppiness in his throat.

“You want my arm to fall off?” he asked standing in front of me.

Why should I care? That wasn't funny. He wasn't Billy Dee but he had them kind of rich guy clothes on. “You going to bed or just waking up, dude?” I snickered.

What was up with the bedroom fit? Black shiny pants and gold designs pasted to a smooth jacket that had a sash tied around his waist. Where was the cigar? He didn't seem the type that would have one of those vapor-smoking gadgets.

Looking at him in all those clothes, my head started sweating. It was too hot for all that. I stared at his feet. Who wore leather slip-ons?

“I don't want to shake your hand or kiss your ass, dude.” I wiped my head, then slung my sweat on him. “Beaux, you shouldn't have brought me here. Let's go,” I demanded.

My fists were aching to curl and lay this old wealthy guy out with one punch. I was starting to hate all people with lots of money. My mama didn't put no price tag on me and he wasn't going to either. The only thing that kept me from letting him have it was I'd probably have to fight off the bodyguards standing at the top of the stairs with their arms folded. Plus, I didn't want a jail cell waiting for me to step inside that hellhole tonight for doing something stupid. If my brother ended up in the slammer with me, who'd bail us out?

Beaux sat the two cases in the foyer. “Here's your million dollars plus interest. Granville ain't doing your dirty work, Charles Singleton.”

I snatched the briefcase, clung it to my chest. “That interest is ours, not his!”

“It's not as much as you think. Put it down, Granville!” Beaux struggled to peel away my arm. I laughed. He must've forgotten where he'd picked me up from. My abs were ripped, biceps bulged like Popeye the Sailor Man. I hated spinach. Over the past thirty days I'd worked extra hard on beefing up my back muscles. Heard some women like a man with a nice strong back.

When old dude said, “That one has the gun,” I let go of the case before questioning, “How you know?”

It was the one I'd gotten the cell phone from and the gun was in there at that time. The piece Charles had given me was no snub-nosed like the one I'd used to shoot Chicago. Charles had given me a silencer too. I figured Beaux had put our interest in the briefcase and the gun in the big bag with the mil.

“Damn, bro!” My fingerprints were all over the leather. Should I take it or leave it? Beaux's prints were on it too.

The latch popped open when the case hit the tile floor. A gun fell out. “Bro, you supposed to secure that shit. It could've gone off and killed one of us.”

I didn't care about Charles. If he would've been accidentally shot and killed, oh well.

Charles laughed, then said, “You're right, Granville. Leave it all there. The gun is yours. The money too. You can get it on your way out. I don't want it back.”

“Yes, you do, Daddy.”

I turned to see the woman with the long cinnamon hair that was in the courtroom during my trial. She closed the door. My jaw dropped. Drool rolled down my chin. I swiped my hand across my lips. I wanted me one of her.

“Not even in your dreams,” she said as if she'd read my mind. “Glad you made it. We might as well get straight to it then, Sindy,” Charles said. “Everyone follow me.”

Sindy stepped behind Charles and in front of me. The way that red dress hugged her booty, I wanted to be the spandex kissing her ass. I got closer. She stopped and my dick was on her back. I got instant wood. Sindy turned around and landed a slap to my jaw. That felt good. I hoped she'd do it again.

“Get in front of me,” she demanded.

“You were the one that stopped. Not me.” I stood still to let her keep her place in line. The two bodyguards that were at the top of those stairs were now behind my brother.

“Move it, Granville,” one of them said with bass in his voice.

Charles didn't look over his shoulder. “Touch my daughter again and I'll personally kill you.” He barely raised his crackly voice.

If he was as weak as his voice, all I had to do was step out of the way of old dude's punch and watch him fall, then cry, “I've fallen and I can't get up.”

I started laughing, then stopped. The word “cry” made me think about my son. I became sad.

Charles said, “Have a seat on the sofa.”

Which one? The size of the room was ridiculous. Who needed three couches? One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six oversize fancy high-backed cushioned chairs were gathered in pairs at separate glass-top tables. Now the pool table, that bitch was sweet. Drooling, I picked up a stick. Pretended I was a professional. “Rack 'em, boys.” I could earn that two million honestly and live this way the rest of my life.

Charles nodded to one of his security guys. He walked toward me, picked up a stick, then handed it to the old dude. Sindy got one.

“Let's do this.” I tossed Beaux one.

Charles gestured toward the flat screen attached to the wall. One of his guards turned it on. The picture was incredible. I stared at the news reporter. “That shit looks 3D.”

“It's 4K,” Charles said.

Four who? What's that? I hadn't been locked up that long. When did those come out?

“Let's team up to make this interesting. I got Granville,” Charles said. “Put your stick down for a minute and sit next to me. We'll shoot around in a minute.” Dude coughed then told my brother, “You can sit wherever you'd like. You got Sindy.”

My eyes widened. Pouting like a kid, I thought,
I want her!
Beaux could have old dude. “Bro, sit by my side,” I said.

“Not so close to Granville,” Charles said. “Right there is fine, Beaux. This won't take long.”

“Daddy, don't do this,” Sindy said then sat between Beaux and me. “I'll do it.”

“Do what?” I asked.

Beaux moved to a nearby chair. Good. I didn't want to share Sindy.

“Don't act like you don't know,” she said.

“Know what?” I asked.

Her eyes filled with tears. She didn't look sad. She squinted, then rolled her eyes. I wanted to move and at the same time not. I hadn't done anything to her for her to hate me. She leaned forward and stared at her father.

“Sindy, until you marry the billionaire in Dubai who has bought you, I'm proceeding with my plan.” He spoke to me. “Granville, I want you to do as I've told you. Take care of Chicago.”

Frowning, I focused on the television.

“My brother is no killer,” Beaux said.

“Fine, then you do it and I'll give you the two million. I don't care which one of you pulls the trigger but my life depends on getting this done.”

“Ain't nobody gon' kill you over no pussy,” I said.

Slap!
Ol' girl hit me again. I told her, “You sho' is ugly,” hoping she'd hit me harder.

“Granville,” the old man said.

“What?” I asked turning to him. Couldn't he see I was busy?

Charles coughed in my face.

“Dude, I don't care how much money you got. Cough on me again and see what happens,” I told him.

Beaux stood. Soon as he took one step toward that old arrogant dude, those two bodyguards blocked him. Standing shoulder to shoulder they put their hands inside their jackets.

“What the fuck? Turn that up,” I said pointing at the TV. “Why my picture on there?”

Charles smiled, then nodded upward. One of his bodyguards increased the volume.

I listened to that news broad say, “Granville Washington was released from the Federal Detention Center earlier this morning.”

“And?” I said. “I did my time.”

“Was he innocent of shooting Roosevelt ‘Chicago' DuBois? Now that Roosevelt is back with his wife and child, is there any truth to social media rumor? Is Granville out to attempt to kill Chicago again? Will Granville violate his restraining order to see the infant he claims is his?”

“It's not a claim, lady. Get your facts straight. I'll do it, if I have to,” I said. Soon as I'd said that, I realized I didn't mean it.

Smack!
Sindy slapped my face. “You're dumber than you look.”

“You'd better stop turning me on. If you get a feel of this hard wood, you mine.”

She exhaled in my face, and I inhaled. Damn, I was hoping to give her another reason to hit me but she didn't. I said, “If I kill Chicago, will you marry me?”

Yes!
This time her titties shook.

I looked at Charles. Dude didn't say a word. This moment reminded me when my mother used to tell my brother and me, “Whichever one is lying, tell the other one to shut up.”

“You're the stupid one,” I told her. “What woman wouldn't marry a billionaire?”

Sindy touched my thigh. Suddenly she got nice. “You're right. I apologize. I know you're hurting because that is your son. Let me help you prove it.”

I tried to kiss her. She scooted back. Whatever. Her loss.

I hoped she wasn't trying to use me like Loretta and Madison had done. “I'll do whatever you say.”

This time she'd kissed my cheek then glanced at her father. “Daddy we can be civil about this and no one has to get hurt.” Sindy started crying.

Women sure were emotional.

“I'm still not calling off the hit until you're married. You are not marrying Chicago, and”—he paused, then continued—“Granville is going to do what I tell him to do no matter what you—”

“I hate you!” She stood, picked up a vase, then hurled it toward her father.

I swatted the vase to the floor. Charles should put me on payroll to protect him from his daughter. “I can't do this,” I said watching Sindy cry. “Mr. Singleton, may I have your permission to marry your daughter?”

That way Chicago wouldn't have to die, we could pay that billionaire dude back his money, and everyone could be happy.

Dude coughed again. This time in my face.

“What the fuck!”

Blood spilled from his mouth onto my lips. I wiped it off. The bodyguard handed me a cloth napkin. “What you got, man?”

Sindy stared at me, then at her dad and said, “He's got HIV.”

Before she took one step toward the door, I pushed old dude to the floor. “If I'ma die you gon' die first.” I raised my fist and aimed for his head. His bodyguards tackled me, pulled out their guns.

“Beaux, get out of here. Go!” I yelled. If the police came, I'd do the time. I was about to make them guards use those bullets or take one hell of an ass whipping.

“D
on't shoot him,” my father faintly lamented. “Give me a gun.”

I shouted to the bodyguards, “Kill him! Kill! Him!” The first time I pointed at Granville. The second, my father.

Granville frowned at me; Charles stared in disbelief.

“Don't shoot me, dude!” Granville yelled.

I enjoyed watching Granville stare into the barrel of a gun. Did I want Granville dead? No. My father? Not really. He was the only living parent I had. Had he killed our mother? Was it an accident? I never asked because I never wanted to know the truth.

Everybody had a deep secret.

Granville pulled back his fist to hit my father again. “If I'm going to die, I'm going to kill him first.”

Beaux shouted, “He's not worth it.”

Granville's fist stopped inches from my father's face. Not because he'd changed his mind. One of the bodyguards hit Granville's hand using the handle of his gun.

“Ow! Dude, what the fuck! I've got a beat down with your name on it,” Granville said holding one hand with his other.

Charles pathetically sprawled on the plush carpet. His elbow trembled as he braced himself. “Don't just stand there. Help me up.” His guards put their guns in their pockets.

If there were a category for best actor with no formal training, my dad would win the Academy Award. When his name is called, he will have to answer to God for the sins he'd committed. I prayed he didn't do like the lying, cheating, abusive murderers who'd sinned all their lives, then repented on their dying bed. If everyone could get into heaven that way, what was the point of trying to do the right thing all my life? It was time I benefited from the pass God has granted.

After our mother's death, my sister was sold or bought—depended on how one viewed the situation. She'd gone from being my best friend to more of a stranger.

I'd never forget the day Daddy said, “Siara isn't coming back. If anyone asks, tell them Siara changed her mind at the last minute and decided to go to NYU instead of TSU.” His lie made me more skeptical about Mama.

I never mentioned my sister to anyone, not even to Roosevelt. When I talked with Siara via Skype during Christmas, it was the hardest time of the year not to shed tears in front of her. She'd show off pictures of her three kids but she refused to let them speak with me. She'd never mention Mom. The day Siara told me, “I have to be a better protector of my children than you were of me,” I cried profusely.

My sister could family vacation in Toronto but I couldn't join them. She could Skype but I couldn't visit her in Paris. Maybe my guilt made me passive. Perhaps she knew something I didn't. Next time we face-chat, I wouldn't ask. I'd insist. Hopefully, she wouldn't resist.

I still cry at night sometimes. I was only twenty when she was eighteen. How was I supposed to know when Daddy took her to Paris, she'd never come back? How many mentally ill men had done the same to their daughters?

Charles had lied, “Paris is my high school graduation present to Siara. Sindy, I'll take you anywhere in the world you want to go when you get your college degree.”

While I watched his bodyguards help him to his feet, I should've kicked him while he was on the floor. The only reason I hadn't was once I'd start, I might not stop until I stomped the last breath out of him.

Trusting men was hard for me. I'd date. But when a guy wanted to have sex, I'd find a reason to break up with him. Roosevelt was different. I felt him in my heart. I knew I could trust him to take care of me and I'd do the same for him. We deserved each other. People don't get what they deserve. They get what they earn, or they get what they take.

Charles almost had me brainwashed. The thought of getting on a plane to Dubai, I'd considered it more than once. What was there not to love about Dubai? Never again was I entertaining my father's desire. Thank God for Numbiya. She was a true friend willing to go with me.

Agreeing with Charles not to shoot Granville was not to my advantage. Men like Granville were easily manipulated. He was the type of brute who would fight for any cause especially when he thought he was right. Loretta didn't want him but he'd claimed she was his until she filed a protective order. Then he felt upgraded when she handed him off to her girlfriend. In his mind, Madison was his woman and the baby was his. I wasn't 100 percent positive the kid was his but I had a plan to take Roosevelt's name off of Zach's birth certificate permanently.

Unbeknownst to Granville, a few words out of his mouth made him indebted to me. I could've left my father's house but I had to make myself a witness. I could have dialed 911. Instead, I stood by videotaping the incident. My part would be edited out.

I'd rather reserve my power to send Granville back to jail. If he didn't do what I'd tell him, I'd orchestrate my next moves and have him arrested for attempted murder of my father. Charles would have to hire another hit man. That was if he didn't die from an accidental overdose the way Mama had. I still believed my mother was dead before he pushed her down the stairs. My father was sick. Mentally.

Daddy didn't have HIV. My dad's esophagus was eroding from acid reflux. The lining of his throat was deteriorating. Doctors had prescribed medication that made my father's condition worse. His coughing up blood wasn't life-threatening, although there were times that I wished it were.

Turning off the video, I had enough footage to put Granville away for a few years. I watched Beaux help Granville up. My cell phone interrupted the most entertaining moment I'd had in a while, as Beaux said, “Let's get out of here, bro.”

“Wait until the media hears about this. I'm sending your black ass back to jail,” Daddy said with his finger shaking. The movement in his hand wasn't intentional.

Distracted by the madness, I let Helen's call go to voice mail. “Granville, Beaux, come with me.”

Granville didn't deserve to go back to jail for this nonsense but he could. I was disappointed he hadn't hit my father that last time. A man with disregard for another man's life needed to feel pain. That was true for both Granville and Charles.

“Wait,” I said handing the suitcase to Granville. “You've earned this. Keep it. But don't spend anything until you hear from me.”

Granville didn't hesitate. “Thanks.” He stared at Beaux. “I'm keeping this.” Interestingly, his hand felt well enough to grip the handle.

I escorted them to their truck. “I'll be in touch tomorrow.”

I sat in my car until they drove off, then I listened to my voice mail. “I got the baby,” Helen had said. “Let's get that test done while Madison is in the hospital getting her breast implants.”

Whether or not I reunited with Roosevelt, I wanted to make Madison suffer for the evil things she'd done to a good man. The old Sindy Singleton was getting ready to set everyone straight.

I saved the message then dialed his number. “Please accept my call.”

“Haven't heard from you in a while,” he answered. “It's good to hear your voice.”

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Stay there. I'm on my way. We need to talk.”