No Honor Amongst Thieves

by Brick

  “Well, what were you doing?” she asked with a slightly irritated tone.

  The way her face stayed blank, but her eyes were shooting me daggers amused me. “I was getting my jacket, then answering a phone call. It was an important business call with the aide office. I’m sorry about that; I truly am.”

  “Oh, well, okay,” was all she said while shifting in her chair uncomfortably.

  I made ready to say something joking and quirky to her, but before I could, Sabrina sucker punched me with her question.

  “Who is Sepriani to Mister—I mean, Senior Giulio? I remember that name and—”

  “No, you don’t,” I immediately said, cutting her off. “And back up off of that.”

  Hitting me with a slow blink, the waves in her hair moved while she shook her head and grabbed her glass of wine. “No. I need to know for business purposes as well as—”

  “For things that don’t pertain to you. I know he’s not listed anywhere on your books, so no,” I said in a low, rough tone. “This isn’t the time or the place for this, even though we are nestled in an intimate and secluded area.”

  “You told me that you’d answer my questions if I went on this date with you. That was the stipulation, so honor that,” she heatedly whispered.

  Sitting back, I ran a hand down my face, then sighed. I just had killed the man she asked about, and now I had to focus my attention back on him without revealing that. Damn, she was persistent.

  Dropping my hands in front of me and folding them on the table, I waited for our waiter to finish placing several small plates of savory foods in front of us before I spoke up.

  “Is-he-the-same-man-you, ah . . . handled back when we first met? Is he? No, is he related in some way to that man?” Each word she said was enunciated in a way that stressed the importance to her.

  Once again, it had me sitting back, formulating a careful response. “Where did you even hear that name?”

  “It doesn’t matter, and I’m asking the questions, not you,” she snapped back.

  I noticed that her hand holding the wineglass slightly shook as she hastily downed the red liquid. Shorty was getting her liquid courage, and it had me being very cautious.

  “Yes, he’s related. He’s the father. That’s all I got for you,” I said with a quiet, even tone.

  My face held no emotion; it was just a stoic blank expression when answering her. I wanted her to understand that I wasn’t lying and that my voice was low so that no one could accidently hear us.

  “Is he working for Giulio?”

  There was a slight panicking tone to her voice when she asked that. I immediately knew that she was on some PTSD flashback shit, and if I said the wrong thing that she might fall apart, so I opted to keep my response simple but truthful.

  “No, and you don’t have anything to worry about with him,” I said leaning over the table and gently taking her glass from her. “No worries and no threats, I promise you that.”

  Sabrina’s stare held a fearful glaze to it. But once I gently said that she had nothing to worry about, that panicked gaze shifted to stare me in the eyes, then soften with relief. After that, our date went well, even as I noticed an hour later the many flashing lights flickering in the windows outside our restaurant.

  Chapter Seven

  Sabrina

  As the weeks went on, Marcel and I went on more dates. It was a tricky kind of relationship he and I were building. But I found myself drawn to him more and more as time went by. For some reason, we felt it was best we kept our relationship on the low. Wait. I have to laugh. I said relationship. I wouldn’t call what we had a relationship. No, not at all. It was more like a game of tag.

  One day, I was it, and one day, I wasn’t. I couldn’t take Marcel’s abrupt absences. After our first date, he disappeared for two weeks. I kept myself busy fixing the Giulios’ books. Since they already owned adult entertainment clubs, rated-X video stores, and casinos, I’d convinced them to shut down the car wash as it was a typical way to launder money. I convinced them to do the same for a few of the Laundromats. Once that was handled, I told them to invest in property as in apartment complexes, duplexes, and even some house rentals. That way, they wouldn’t look like the typical Italian smart guys who thought they were pulling a fast one on the government. I also convinced Senior Giulio to update some of the bistros. At least the financial system and some of the cooking apparatuses. He wouldn’t allow anyone to change the front of the place—the dining area. I respected that.

  I think I got so good at working for them because they respected me. They questioned me a hell of a lot, but they respected my intelligence. I wanted to ask where Marcel had gone but didn’t want anyone to know he and I had gone on a date, or that I was a little worried about the asshole. I was watching the news one night and saw that NBA player Paul Watts had died in a car accident out in California. The fool had fallen asleep behind the wheel of the car. People were mourning him like he was the pope or something. Personally, I thought he was a coon-ass Negro because he thought he was better than those less fortunate than him, but that was neither here nor there.

  Marcel showed back up out of the blue after his first disappearance. I wanted to be mad at him, but I didn’t know for what. I wasn’t his girlfriend. It was just that on our first date he had been the perfect gentleman. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t someone who could discuss a wide range of things. We went from politics to the racial tensions looming over the U.S., all the way back around to sports. I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. I had to admonish myself as I’d been stereotyping him. He made me feel so comfortable while we were on the date that I almost completely forget he had threatened to kill me. I said almost because it was still in the back of my mind from time to time.

  Still, I did give him a bit of the cold shoulder once he returned. But that didn’t last long at all. By the time he sent flowers to my door three times and promised to make it up to me, I was over it. Growing up, I’d been one awkward-looking girl. But by the time I hit 20, things started to change. My body filled out. My clothes fit better. My ’fro was thicker and longer, and men started to pay attention. Now, I wouldn’t say I was a virgin, but I’d only had sex with two men. The first time was awful, and the second time I’d rather forget altogether.

  I said all that to say that I wasn’t used to a man like Marcel taking an interest in me. I expected him to be like my father as in wanting something light, bright, and damn near white on his arm. I had no qualms about it; just speaking my mind. It was no secret that the darker the black man, the lighter he wanted his woman to be.

  On our second date, Marcel invited himself into my home so he could cook for me. That was a good night too. Daddy was right. He did make the best damn steak this side of the Mason-Dixon Line. Not to mention he had a way of looking at me that made me remember that I was a young woman who still had hot blood pumping through my veins. He had a way of making my nipples hard and underwear wet without ever touching me. I’d never tell him that, of course. He was arrogant enough.

  By our fourth date, I knew he hated popcorn because he didn’t want the kernels to get in his teeth. He listened to classical music when he was stressed, and he hated to be touched when he hadn’t invited a person to touch him. He’d taken me to Centennial Park so we could ride on that big Ferris wheel. Yes, there were times he disappeared to go to the bathroom and would find me thirty minutes later, but I didn’t complain. I was doing something that I hadn’t done since my father walked out on my mother. That was . . . enjoy life.

  Our sixth date rolled around, and Marcel was nowhere to be found. He stood me up. I had to admit my feelings were more than hurt. I’d taken care in the way I’d dressed. He always made a joke about me wearing black all the time, so I chose something colorful. I chose a cream, backless dress with specks of purple since purple was his favorite color. He always complimented me on my hair, but I got more praises from him when it was curly or in its most natural state
. So I let it fly wild and free. I was excited to see him because no matter what was going on around us—from some woman attacking Leo who claimed he had killed her son a week ago to my father being accused of sexual harassment by a schoolteacher—Marcel found a way to take me away from it all.

  We had been intimate without having sex. Over the course of our time being together, the fear Marcel had spiked in me from the moment we met had subsided. We’d kissed, hugged, touched, and spoke about what the possibility of what our being together meant so I’d thought things were going good, but I guess I’d been wrong. That had been two weeks ago.

  “Sabrina!”

  I jumped and snapped my head around at the person who had called me. My mother was scowling at me. My twin sisters, Jimma and Jana, had amused smiles on their faces. I was quite sure it was noticeable that I didn’t mention the three often. They wanted as little to do with my father as possible, so they often chose not to travel to Atlanta. When my sisters moved up North, one to Pennsylvania and one to New York, my mother chose to leave with them, settling in Manhattan to be an in-home nurse to the wealthy.

  Mama was still beautiful in her older age. She fixed her dark skin with the perfect touch of makeup; her natural hair pulled back in a neat bun. She had on a nice blue pant suit that accentuated her voluptuous frame. We all sat in Giulio’s as I picked it so I could see if Marcel would miraculously show up.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, did you ask me something, Mama?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve asked you twice if everything is going okay with you here. Lots of bad energy seems to be floating around Atlanta. First, the mayor dies. Then a diplomat is assassinated here, not to mention I just don’t like this place.”

  “Mama, you don’t like this place because Daddy is here,” I told her.

  “Isn’t that all the reason needed? No matter where that man goes, or what he has his hands in, it always goes bad.”

  “Mama’s right,” Jimma chimed in.

  She was the oldest and sterner of the twins. She had her long, brown hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Hazel eyes against their dark skin always made them stand out from the crowd. Both were very prominent attorneys in their field; Jimma a criminal attorney, and Jana, a corporate lawyer.

  Jana added, “She sure is, and he has you wrapped around his finger because you’re the baby and don’t know what we do.”

  “Working for Daddy isn’t going to turn out well for you, little sister,” Jimma warned.

  “If he does anything to cause my baby harm, I’m going to see to his demise personally. Trust me on that,” Mama spat out venomously.

  They were talking, and my mind was on Marcel, stuck on Marcel. Where the fuck was he?

  “Daddy has been very helpful in my career here,” I defended my father.

  “Helpful?” Mama scoffed. “He has you working for Giulios, who are connected to the Seprianis, who are connected to the mob, who are connected to only God knows what. Exactly how is that helpful?”

  There was that name again, but since the day Marcel assured me I had nothing to worry about, I hadn’t worried at all.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that, Mama. I just make sure the books for their businesses are run efficiently and legally. For as long as I’ve been working for them, I’ve neither seen nor heard anything illegal. And Leo is the interim mayor, for crying out loud. Daddy is on his way to becoming chairman on the Fulton County Board of Commissioners.”

  “Girl, the government are the biggest crooks there is, and it shows since a Giulio and your father are both apart of the government here,” Mama chided. “You best keep your wits about you, girl. If you end up in prison, I will beat you to death, you understand me? No child of mine will have a criminal record.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

  When Mama was going off on a tangent, my sisters and I had learned a long time ago to say “yes, ma’am” and keep quiet.

  “How is that damn Katrina doing?” Mama asked.

  I glanced over at my sisters and then back at Mama. Didn’t know why she wanted to know about the woman who used to be daddy’s mistress who was now his wife.

  “She’s fine, I suppose.”

  “Your daddy beat another baby out of her yet?”

  I choked on my wine. Mama had to pat my back.

  I grabbed a napkin to catch the spittle and slobber hanging from my bottom lip.

  “Excuse me?” I barked.

  The twins chuckled.

  “Daddy beat Kat so badly once, the baby she was carrying fell out of her into the toilet,” Jimma told me. “She miscarried.”

  Jana jumped in, “And he did that while she was the mistress. Who knows what he’s doing to her now.”

  I was sure my face held the terror that I couldn’t find a way to voice at the moment. There was no way I could believe my father was that kind of evil.

  “I tried to warn that damn girl when she thought she was getting one up on me by being his mistress. Tried to tell her your daddy was the devil incarnate. Even tried to beat it into her myself that she was going down the wrong path, but she wouldn’t hear me,” Mama said.

  Kat’s words that the Lanfairs had been kicking her ass since the day she met them made more sense now than ever. I felt sorry for her, but she brought it on herself, I suppose. As the night went on, my mother and my sisters wanted to spend some time in Atlantic Station. They loved to shop, and Atlantic Station was like a shopping haven for them. From there, we headed to Phipps Plaza and then Lenox Square. I found it funny that they all had only flown in for the day. I found it even funnier that Daddy called to speak to Jimma and Jana, but when I asked if he wanted to speak to Mama . . . That was a different story.

  “I’m busy. Ain’t got time to tongue wrestle with the devil’s mistress,” he let fly.

  “Well, since she considers you the devil, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to speak to her since she’s your mistress.”

  Daddy hung up on me. Mama laughed, and the twins high-fived me. Regardless of what we all thought of Daddy, Mama still deserved some kind of victory. Daddy had indeed done her wrong, and for that, I would always hold some disdain for him, although not as much as Mama and my sisters.

  A few hours later, they were gone, and I tiredly walked into my apartment. And, yes, Marcel was still on my mind. I could have easily texted him except for the fact he told me the number I’d texted before was no longer in service. He never kept a number long, and, this time, he left without giving me a new one to contact him on. He said he didn’t need a digital leash. I cursed him to hell for that.

  I cursed him the whole night until I fell asleep. I’d gone to sleep with my shades open, so the moonlight could bathe me in its essence. So, when I woke up to them closing, I knew I wasn’t alone. I turned onto my left side in my bed. The covers rustled as I did so. I stared into the darkness chewing on my lip to stave off the nervousness I felt.

  “Where have you been?” I asked. There was no malice in my tone. For as angry and hurt as I had been before, now I was secretly elated. No, more like I was relieved. Relieved he wasn’t dead or hurt. Relieved he was whole, safe, and sound. And relieved he was back with me.

  “Out. Had to handle some business,” Marcel said.

  Because it was dark in my room and silent, his voice boomed like surround sound. I welcomed it, even if I didn’t like the vagueness of his answer.

  “Do you have a wife or something somewhere? Some kids? If I’m going to play second fiddle, at least give me a heads-up.”

  He chuckled easily. I heard him yawn, which meant he was tired. I heard when he clicked the sensor, so the shades opened again. The moonlight illuminated the room like the sun rising on a new day.

  “No. I told you, I was handling business. Was out of the country.”

  “What kind of business did you need to handle outside of the country?”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “And you answer too little.”

 
“Did you miss me?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Among other things.”

  He chuckled again. I was quite sure he remembered the last time those same words were spoken, only I had been the one calling him a liar. There was silence between us for a few moments. I could feel and hear him moving closer to me. When he was standing on the right side of the bed, my heart rate picked up a bit. The covers moved, and my spine tingled.

  “Did you shower?” I asked him.

  “Before I came.”

  “How long have you been back?”

  He slid in bed behind me. His chest was bare, but he still had on his jeans and socks. When he wrapped an arm around me, all was right in the world.

  “A few hours,” he said after kissing the back of my neck.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. His scent blanketed me. I’d missed it. Just like before when we had lain together, our breaths synchronized. It was a soothing and calming ritual we had. I had so many questions, but I knew he wasn’t going to give me a straight answer. After a few minutes, I turned in his arms so I could face him. His eyes were wide. Before I could launch into a diatribe, he kissed me. Slow at first, nibbling on my bottom lip, then the top one before letting his tongue trace the outline of them.

  I relinquished all control I felt I needed to have at the moment. When his tongue sought out mine, my breathing hitched. My hand traveled up the muscles in his arms, then over his shoulder and down his shoulder blades. The velvety feel of his tongue against mine hypnotized me. Wherever he had been or what he had been doing became obsolete. His fingers played a beat up my spine; then his hand cupped the back of my neck, bringing me closer to him. He slid his thigh between mine. The friction he caused to my sex made me squirm around while his hand traveled into my hair. I could feel moisture pool into the purple lace boy shorts I had on. Just when I thought he was going to kiss me senseless, he eased back. He was gazing at me when my eyes finally fluttered open.