“Me,” Madison managed to say as Bree tickled her.
“What’s up, Jaylen?” Bree said. She and Jaylen gave each other a sideways hug, and then Bree handed Madison to him.
A quiet tension filled the room while everyone looked around at each other, trying to see who was going to spill the beans on what had happened before Proof and them walked in Mel’s room.
“Well?” Granny said. “Don’t all talk at once.” She looked from me to Mel, then to Bree.
“Granny, you know how Bree and Fiona are. Arguing like family does over who loves me more.” That was Mel’s weak attempt to cut some of the tension, but it didn’t work.
I looked around the room. “Seeing as we are breaking the ‘two visitors at a time’ rule, I’m going to go ahead and bounce. I have some things to take care of before the day is over.”
“Do any of those things happen to be a certain mystery man your best friend has yet to meet?” Mel asked.
I laughed and headed for the door. “Mel, you already know I only hump, then dump. I don’t have time for these men out here, unless he’s loaded with some money. If his net worth is right, I might fall in love.” I opened the door but turned around. “Then again, who am I kidding? Love don’t live here anymore. I might marry him for a few months, then kill him later on down the line for his money.”
Mel spit the water she had just drunk out of her mouth, while Proof tried to stifle a laugh, and Granny gasped. When my eyes landed on Bree, she just rolled her eyes.
“I’m just kidding, y’all. I’ll find love one day, just not right now. Who knows? Maybe Aunt Bree can hook me up with one of her scientist friends. I hear they make a lot of money,” I said.
All eyes went to Bree.
She snorted. “As if any of my colleagues would date a money-hungry ho . . . chick like you,” she said, correcting herself.
“Better to be money hungry and getting this bread than dry as a desert and looking for love,” I countered.
Bree’s wide eyes turned to Mel, who also had a shocked look on her face.
Yeah. Checkmate, bitch, I thought as I finally left the room.
“What you over there laughing at?” I heard Cowboy ask, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Nothing. Just thinking about Aunt Bree’s . . . oops, I mean Brenae’s face when I checked her on some shit a couple of weeks ago.”
Cowboy shook his head, then pushed his glasses up on his face. It wasn’t until then that I noticed my brother was a little dressed up. I wondered where he was coming from.
“You better stop fucking with Bree. You know she knows about the BWC, and with the connects she has, she’s a better ally than enemy.”
I waved him off. “I ain’t worried about her. She’s not going to do or say anything that could get Mel’s ass implicated right along with me.” I rolled down the window and let the humid breeze hit my face. “Besides, she’s not the only one who knows people in high places. Now shut the hell up and let’s get this long-ass ride over with. I’m ready to see my daddy.”
The Black Widow Clique 2
Roman
I stood in front of the house that I grew up in, memories of my childhood flooding my mind. My mother’s beautiful face and laughter playing repeatedly. Visions of her standing in the kitchen, making breakfast, while keeping a close eye on me as I played outside on the veranda, kept looping around, for some reason. I shook my head. It seemed like after my mother passed, this house, which used to be filled with so much warmth and love, became cold and isolated. The feel of being a family had died a long time ago, when my father brought Julia and Benji into the house. Gone was the smile that seemed to always be on his face whenever my mother was around or gave him some type of affection. Now all he wore was a stoic expression, which I couldn’t quite read at times.
After walking up to the front door, I let myself in and followed the aroma of the Sunday brunch spread, which I could smell as soon as I entered my father’s home. House staff waved hello and nodded their heads in greeting as I walked past the different rooms they were busy cleaning. Pictures of me and Benji as children decorated the walls. Our college degrees hung on one wall, with framed pictures of our alma maters. Newspaper features about my father, recounting his humble beginnings before starting Real Time Delivery and his life afterward were also displayed one of the walls for all to see.
Rare antiques were scattered about the house, though there were a few modern designs woven into the decor, designs that Julia had picked out. The place was totally different from the loving household my mother had made for us when we first moved in here. My childhood home now looked more like a chic museum than a place where a family resided. But like I said, cold and isolated were the feelings I got about the place whenever I came to visit nowadays.
When I stepped into the formal dining room, my stepmother, Julia’s irritating laugh was the first thing I heard.
“Richard, darling, we should make a trip to the Summerland house sometime soon. We haven’t been there in a minute. The weather has been warming up, and I want to wake up to the beautiful ocean view and breeze for a week or two.”
My father cleared his throat and dropped the newspaper in his hands down a little to make eye contact with his wife. “Whatever you want, Julia. Have Helga get everything set up, and we can head out that way whenever you like.”
Julia’s eyes were beaming with happiness. “You spoil me so much, honey. What will I ever do without you?”
“Let’s hope you never have to find out,” he said, then bent forward and gave her a kiss.
She smiled at my father’s response after he kissed her, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Good morning,” I said, making my presence known and interrupting the awkward moment between them.
“Good morning, Roman,” Julia replied. “This is a surprise, seeing as we weren’t expecting to see you anytime soon. I mean, with everything that has been going on and the way you stormed out of here last week, I thought you would still be in hiding or trying to lay low.”
The day that I got back from Russia, I had had Marques bring me straight to my parents’ home first so that I could see what was really going on with the moral clause and my father giving Benji my position without telling me what the hell was going on. What should have been a simple conversation between me and my father, Richard Black, had turned into a shouting match that became really heated. Julia adding her two cents in whenever she felt like it hadn’t helped the situation, either. Needless to say, my words had fallen on deaf ears, and the support I thought that I would get from my father with what I had going on had been nowhere to be found.
I cut my eyes at Julia. “I’m not hiding from shit. Hiding would mean that I was ashamed of something that I did. Like I told you both last week, I didn’t do anything. And this stuff with the IRS, it’s like that shit just fell out of thin air. I’ve always paid my taxes, and I’ve always made sure RTD’s taxes were taken care of.”
“Well, you missed the ball somewhere,” Benji said, walking into the dining room with the same big-eyed, blond-haired, ditzy chick he’d had with him the last time we all had brunch together. With nothing but some swim trunks on, he took a seat at the table and started filling his plate up with the continental spread in front of him, while his guest stood behind him in the skimpiest bathing suit, looking out of place. “But like always, little bro, big bro is here to save the day. Or in this case, the family business.”
“Benjamin, honey, why is she standing up like that? Have your guest take a seat.” The disgust in Julia’s words could not be missed.
“Aye, are you going to eat something? If you are, take a seat. If not, go back to my house, and I’ll be there in about forty-five minutes.” His eyes roamed her petite body. “I don’t know, Mandy, with the way you look in that bathing suit, make that about thirty minutes.”
Benji’s little friend started giggling uncontrollably. When she snorted, all eyes went to her, and she stopped laughin
g. Her cheeks turned a deep red from embarrassment. “Um . . . I . . . I’ll go wait for you at your spot. And stop calling me Mandy, silly. My name is Sammy,” she said sheepishly.
Benji threw her an apple. “Well, Sammy, take this and eat it while you’re chilling at my spot. Get your energy up and be ready for me when I get back.” He smacked her on her ass and then sent her on her way.
I shook my head, and Benji turned his attention to me. “What was that head shake for, Ro? I know me hitting her ass didn’t offend you in any way. I mean, with the way you nearly beat poor Melonee Reid to death, that light tap I just gave Sammy should’ve made your dick twitch a little bit, right?”
Before his laugh slipped from the back of his throat, I lunged at Benji, knocked his chair down on the floor, and landed right on top of him. Glasses breaking, silverware falling, and plates clanking together were the only things I heard as I began to pound my fists into his face, adding to the scratch marks that were already there. I felt a pair of hands pulling at my shirt and then my shoulders, but whoever it was wasn’t strong enough to pull me off him.
Since I’d been back from Russia, Benji had been making little remarks like the one he had just delivered every chance he got. The muthafucka had gone as far as holding a press conference after being named the new CEO of Real Time Delivery and telling the world that I was guilty when one of the reporters asked him what he thought about the situation.
“It’s very upsetting for me and the rest of the Black family that one of our own committed such an inhumane and heinous crime,” he’d answered. “It saddens me more that the young woman that was attacked is lying in the hospital, in a coma, because of Roman’s inability to accept when someone tells him no. Please understand that his actions do not reflect the ethics of, nor should ever be associated with, the Black name or Real Time Delivery. And to show that we are deeply sorry for what Roman has done, we, myself, as well as my mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Black, would like to take care of all of Ms. Reid’s medical bills. Also, on behalf of Ms. Reid, a sizeable donation will go to the Women and Children’s Shelter of Greater Los Angeles.”
While some people were praising Benji for being this fraud-ass saint, the rest were denouncing me and invading my privacy for a crime that I didn’t even commit. Paparazzi now followed me any and everywhere, bombarding me with questions about my guilt or innocence and asking how I felt about Benji being appointed the new CEO of RTD. It had been a total shit storm since all this shit went down, and instead of my family coming together to support me and prove my innocence, it seemed like they were all against me, my father included. Because of that, all this aggression had built up within me, and now I was taking my anger out on Benji, who laughed after every punch I landed on his face. A blood vessel in his eye had just popped from a powerful blow I sent to his temple when I felt something heavy hit the back of my head, causing me to fall over in pain.
“Get off my son, you animal!” Julia yelled as she hit me again with the crystal vase that, I remembered, had been on top of the table a few minutes ago. Purple Cattleya orchids and the water that they were in fell all over me. “Richard, don’t just sit there! Do something.”
My father stood from his chair and rounded the table until he was standing next to me. Bacon, sausage, eggs, scones, croissants, and all kinds of fruit now decorated the floor. The smell of coffee filled the room, as the pot that held the hot liquid had been tipped over and had spilled its content on the white tablecloth. Winded and trying to catch my breath, I looked at my fist, which was covered in blood, and wiped it on the carpet. Didn’t know who the blood belonged to, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t mine. My father’s disapproving huff caused me to look up at him. He had a stern look on his face, but I could tell he had conflicting thoughts on his mind.
My mother’s laugh started to echo in my head and had me wondering. Would my life be this chaotic if she were here? Would our family be this torn apart right now if she were still alive? Would my father be standing over me, about to kick me out of the house that I grew up in, if my mother were sitting at his side instead of Julia?
Benji’s moan brought me back to the current moment and away from my thoughts. As Julia and some of the house staff worked to pull him up and place an ice pack on his knotted forehead, I looked at my father and waited to hear what he was going to say. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Not breaking eye contact once, saying so much through our glares. It wasn’t until Julia continued on with her ranting that my father broke our silent conversation and turned his attention to her.
“Richard, you need to do something about that son of yours. He almost beat my poor Benjamin to death,” she yelled.
My father remained silent.
“Richard!” she yelled again. “Get him out of here before I call the police and have him arrested. I’m sure he’s violating some kind of law, putting his hands on someone like that again.”
“Julia—” my father began, but he was cut off by his yapping wife.
“Julia, nothing. Get that piece of trash you did a terrible job of raising out of my house or else!”
“Or else what?” I asked as I slowly got up off the floor. It seemed like my father was conflicted about what he wanted to do, so I chose to make the decision for him. “What the fuck are you going to do, Julia, if he doesn’t tell me leave?”
Her eyes turned into slits as she glared at me, but her Botoxed face was not able to move an inch. Had I not been looking at her, I probably would’ve missed the small smirk that played on her lips before she replaced it with a frown. Gone was the bougie facade she seemed to sport for most of the day. Julia’s appearance was now one I had never seen before. “You don’t want any problems with me, Roman. Trust me. Now get the fuck out of my house before your father ends up with no children at all—”
“Roman,” my dad finally interrupted. “I think you should leave and not come back until you figure out what’s going on with your case. Maybe go to your lawyer and see if you can try to come to some type of agreement with the DA or something, son. Right now, I think it would be best for you to distance yourself from us until this thing blows over.”
My face fell at my father’s words. Just that fast, I was back to being Roman the rapist to him, and not Roman, his son. Just that fast, the silent conversation we had had with our eyes was null and void. Just that fast, any type of relationship with each other I had thought my father and I could salvage was gone. If he didn’t want to stand by me in my time of need, well, then, fuck him.
As long as I had the memory of my mother, Chasin, Marques, Uncle Kazi, and soon Melonee, I didn’t need Richard Black or his new family.
Melonee
A few weeks later ...
“So, Ms. Reid, you told my partner that you remembered something from the night of your attack,” said the stubby man I’d come to know as Detective Warryn Lewis as he circled the small metal desk at which I sat. He dropped a manila folder down in front of me once he reached the chair on the other side of the desk and opened it up. “Now, I want you to be sure of what you are about to tell me. The doctor told us that you were going to experience some short-term memory loss and that you would periodically start to remember things as time went on.” His beady eyes stared directly at my face. “With that being said, are you sure Roman Black was not the person who did this to you?”
When I looked down at the open folder, I saw pictures of myself beaten to a pulp and lying naked in a bed. The pictures were spread out on top of each other. I gathered them into a pile and then slowly started to sift through them. Each one looked worse than the one before. My face was unrecognizable. Deep purple and blue bruises decorated damn near every inch of my body. My lips looked as if they had been injected with a gallon of collagen and were in desperate need of some ChapStick. The knots on my forehead, shoulders, arms, and legs were the size of golf balls. There was blood pouring from the many lacerations on my thighs, back, and chest. I squinted my eyes to try to stop
the tears that I knew were about to fall, but to no avail. Pulling my lips into my mouth, I wiped the tears away with my free hand and then placed the pictures of myself back in the folder. I felt a warm hand squeeze my shoulder. When I turned around, Aunt Bree was there, with a sad look on her face and tears in her eyes.
“If this is too much for you, Mel, we can always come back,” she said as she handed me a piece of tissue.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head. “No . . . we can do this now, while it’s fresh in my mind.”
Aunt Bree looked at Detective Lewis, whose eyes were focused on me. “Can we get this interview going?”
He pulled at his beard, in deep thought, as his focus lingered on my face. The phone on his hip constantly went off, but he continued to ignore it. The wrinkled blue suit that he had on was your typical detective wear, nothing special. More than likely, it was one he had picked from the clearance rack at the Suit Depot. Small coffee stains were on his white shirt and on the top part of his tie. You could tell that he had tried to wipe all the coffee off with a napkin but hadn’t been successful. His light skin was a little ashy and in desperate need of some moisturizing, just like the short, tapered ’fro on top of his head. Acne scars were very evident on his skin, from years of picking at his face. He furrowed his bushy eyebrows and looked toward Aunt Bree.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?” he said, eyes back on me.
I heard Aunt Bree’s lips smack. “I asked if we can get this interview going. It’s been a long day, and Melonee needs to go home and get some rest.”
“We could’ve easily come to you,” he responded, eyes now on my protruding belly. “If it’s too much for you right now, Ms. Reid, my partner and I can come by your home sometime tomorrow to get your statement.”
“I’m not staying at my home right now, so that wouldn’t be necessary. I’d like to continue here. Like I said, let’s do it now, while some things are still fresh in my mind.”
The Black Widow Clique Page 18
