Brent Sinatra: All of Me

by Mallory Monroe

  “Gotdammit!” He didn’t like it, but he got up.

  Jenay smiled. “Serves you right. Getting all of that pleasure without waking me.”

  Through his anger, Charles smiled too. “You were going to wake up,” he said as he put on his bathrobe. “I was warming up. I didn’t need you for that.”

  Jenay threw a pillow at him, which he sidestepped with a laugh, and then headed downstairs. And even though the bell was still ringing, he peeped into little Bonita’s room to make sure she was still okay and wasn’t having any nightmares. She was fast asleep. And when he saw his son Tony, asleep in the nanny’s rocking chair, being the protector he naturally was, he smiled. Charles had a lot of children: four grown sons from his first marriage; two adopted daughters; and Bonita, the only child he had with Jenay. But Anthony was by far the most selfless child he had. He gave and he gave, often to the neglect of his own wants and needs. Charles could always depend on Anthony to be there and help. Until Anthony opened one eye, as if he had been awake all along.

  “Aren’t you going to answer the bell?” Tony asked his father.

  Charles’ smile was gone.

  “What?” Tony asked. “I didn’t want to move around and wake the baby.”

  Bonita was hardly a baby, but Charles let it slide. He went down the hall, across the living room and foyer, and peeped through the peephole. When he saw it was Bobby at his front door, he frowned, but opened the door. “Where is your key, boy?” he asked him. All of his children, except his one minor child, had a key to the family home. Bobby was no exception.

  But Bobby was in no condition to answer any irrelevant questions fluently. He just blabbed words. “I don’t know,” he said as he entered his father’s home. “I lost it or whatever.”

  “You lost it or whatever? What kind of response is that?” Charles began closing the door. “You are the most irresponsible child I have. It used to be Donald. But you have Donald beat by leaps and bounds.”

  But when Charles turned around and saw just what kind of true state Bobby was in, his heart squeezed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Bobby stood there, and started shaking his head.

  “Son, what is it?”

  Tears began to appear in Bobby’s big blue eyes, and Charles didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms. Bobby ran into his father’s embrace, and began to sob.

  Tony came from Bonita’s room when he heard sobbing, just as Jenay was coming downstairs tying her bathrobe. She was surprised to see that Tony was there, but she was more concerned about the sobbing she was hearing. When they saw Bobby in his father’s arms, they were both worried. Bobby was a lover, but he was no weakling. It took a lot to reduce him to tears.

  Jenay went to Bobby, and as soon as she touched him, he turned from his father’s embrace and fell into hers. Tony stayed back in that serene way he had, while Charles rubbed his son’s back and he and Jenay stared at each other. It was bad, they already knew that, but they had no clue what would cause him to become so unhinged.

  When Bobby was finally able to control himself, he leaned up from his stepmother’s embrace. But he still had that devastated look on his handsome face. “I’m in trouble, Dad,” he said. “I’m in so much trouble!”

  “Come and sit down,” Jenay suggested, worried sick now, and Bobby followed her to the living room sofa. She sat down beside him. Charles sat in one of the two flanking chairs. Tony sat in the other one.

  “Tell us what happened,” Charles ordered his son.

  Bobby was already sitting on the edge of his seat, but he sat his elbows on his knees and covered his face. Charles was getting impatient to know what was going on, but Jenay saw it and gestured to him to wait. Bobby would tell them. But in his own time.

  It took several more seconds of anxiety for all, but Bobby finally started talking. “I took Kaci out dancing at Roulette.”

  Charles and Jenay exchanged a glance. Did something happen at Roulette? Bobby didn’t know it yet, but Charles now owned that nightclub. They listened attentively.

  “We had a lot of fun there, and we did what we do.”

  Charles started to ask what in the world did that mean, but Jenay, knowing her husband all too well, gave him that look. He remained silent and listened.

  “After we left the club,” Bobby said, “we were driving her home.”

  “What do you mean we?” Charles asked.

  “Charles!” Jenay admonished. “Go on, Robert.”

  “We were driving to her home, like I said. We started playing around, doing what we do, so we turned down a side street.” He scrunched up his face as a memory flashed though his mind, and then he ran both hands through his thick blonde hair, and held it. “Next thing I know,” he said, “I heard this loud noise.” He looked at his father, the terror still in his eyes. “We hit her, Dad. We hit that woman. We killed her.”

  “Good Lord,” Tony blurted out, Jenay covered her heart with her hand in shock, and Charles moved to the edge of his seat.

  “You killed her?” he asked his son. “You were driving?”

  “No, but what difference does it make? I was there! It’s as much my responsibility as Kaci’s.”

  “But what do you mean you killed her?”

  “Kace didn’t see her. She didn’t know she had drifted onto the sidewalk. But she did. And she hit her. We hit her with my car. We killed her.”

  Jenay and Tony looked at Charles, but Charles was staring at his son so intensely that they looked at Bobby too. But Charles had a reason for staring. Because what happened was horrific in and of itself, but what happened next was even more critical to him. “And what did you do after you hit her?” Charles asked his son.

  Bobby’s handsome face became a mask of anguish again. And he shook his head. “I was high as a fucking kite, Dad! Kace wasn’t as high as I was, but she was high too. I’m still high. I was drinking. I smoked weed.” He looked at his father. “I was stoned.”

  But Charles was still in his same intense state. His question had not been answered. “What did you do next?” he asked again.

  Bobby was ashamed. It was that shame that made him leave his apartment, after taking Kaci home, and hurry to his parents.

  “What did you do next, Robert?” Charles asked for the third time.

  Bobby swallowed hard. “I left,” he said.

  Nobody could believe it, but it was Tony who verbalized their collective disbelief. “You what?”

  “I drove away. Kace didn’t mean to hit her!”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Tony asked him. “That lady didn’t mean to be hit, either. But she was. Thanks to you and Kaci’s drunk behinds.”

  Jenay had tears in her eyes now. This was worse than she could have ever imagined. “Robert, how do you know the lady died? Are you certain?”

  Bobby nodded. “I felt her pulse.” He looked at Jenay. “I’m certain.”

  And they all looked at Charles.

  But it wasn’t even a close call with Charles. He stood up. “You’ve got to turn yourself in,” he said bluntly to his second youngest son.

  But Bobby jumped from the sofa hysterical. “But, Daddy, I can’t! I have dope in my system, and alcohol, I told you. And Kaci. I can’t snitch on her! They’ll put us in prison for the rest of our lives! You’ve got to do something. You’ve got to make this go away. If you love me you’ll make this go away!”

  Jenay and Tony both leaned back in their seats, disgusted that Bobby would say such a horrible thing to a man like Charles. And they were right. Charles looked at Bobby as if he had just been hit himself, and moved over to his son. Face to face with his grown son. “If I love you I’ll make it go away?” he asked him. “I’ll make it go away?”

  Bobby was crying now. “I can’t go to prison, Dad. I can’t tell on Kace, and I can’t go to prison.”

  “What about that woman you killed? Do you think she wanted to go to her grave last night? Do you, Robert? But you put her there! You and that fast-ass girlfriend of
yours! And you want me to make it go away? Right is always right and wrong is always wrong. You are going to turn yourself in.”

  “But I’ll go to prison! Don’t you hear what I’m saying? You know how they hate you in this county. They’ll love to see a Sinatra spend the rest of his life locked up. I won’t stand a chance, Dad! Kace won’t stand a chance.” Then he turned to Jenay. “Ma, tell him! I won’t stand a chance!”

  Jenay took Bobby’s side in many arguments he had with his father down through the years, but she couldn’t support this. “Your father is right,” she said to him. “You have to face the consequences, Robert.”

  “We’ll turn you over to Brent,” Charles said, “and see what he recommends.”

  “Brent?” Bobby had incredulity in his voice. The thought of his oldest brother handling the case didn’t comfort him. It riled him up even more. “Brent’s worse than you are, Dad! He’ll toss me in jail and throw away the key! He’s more hardcore than you are!”

  Charles could see that Bobby was getting to that place of fear that was becoming too bleak to be rational. He was on the verge of total panic.

  And Bobby kept complaining. “I’ll never see the light of day again if Brent has anything to do with it! He’ll make me an example for the whole town! He’ll make me an example, Dad!”

  Charles hurried to his son, and placed his hands on either side of his face. Bobby was still having his fit, but Charles held his hold firmly. “Listen to me, Robert,” he said. “Listen to me!”

  Bobby finally stopped all movement, and turned his big eyes to his father.

  Charles’ heart dropped when he saw the pain, the fear, the panic in his son’s eyes. But right was still right. And he had to make his son understand that. “If what you tell us is true,” he said to his son, “a woman has died. Somebody’s wife, mother, daughter is dead.” Charles frowned. “Somebody has to pay for that. If I could put myself in that car,” he said, fighting back his own tears, “then I would. But I can’t.”

  “You did it for Donnie,” Bobby pointed out. “You told Brent and the police that you fired that shot when Donnie was the one who fired it.”

  “Donnie wasn’t drunk and high,” Tony pointed out. “He was protecting our sister from the man who had raped and nearly killed her. Don’t you dare compare your situation to his! Besides, that was four years ago. This is now.”

  Charles knew that Bobby knew better. He knew his situation was not similar to what happened with his baby brother Donald. But he was a bag of terror right now. Fear was dominating his every thought. Charles had to get him away from fear, and take him to courage.

  “When my father killed my mother,” Charles said, “he had to be held to account. And I was the only one there who could do it. It broke my heart, and sealed my father’s fate, but it was the right thing to do. You and Kaci chose to drink and do drugs and you allowed her to get behind that wheel. She took somebody’s life. Think about that life that’s gone. You still have your life. Kaci still has her life. You still have a chance to live again. But you took that away from that woman. I can’t make that horror go away. And neither can you. You have to go to the police, and tell what happened.”

  Bobby’s heart was hammering, and his courage was wafer thin, but he knew his father was right. He still could see that woman, lying on that sidewalk, and his scary ass driving away. His reckless living was finally catching up with him. His future was in the hands of his big brother, and he already knew what Brent was going to do. He was in trouble. An innocent woman was dead, and all of the fear and panic in this world was not going to bring her back. He had to face Brent. He had to face the music.

  Brent was still asleep, with Makayla downstairs, when his cell phone rang. He woke up slowly, and felt around on the nightstand for his ringing phone. It was near its last ring when he finally grabbed it and answered it. When he realized who it was, he removed the phone from his ear, yawned, and then put the phone back to his ear. “I’m in bed, Ed,” he said.

  Makayla, who had heard the phone ringing from downstairs, had hurried up to answer it. She didn’t want that ringing phone to wake up Brent. But she arrived too late.

  “Sorry to disturb you, boss,” Eddie said, “but it can’t wait.”

  “What is it? And please don’t tell me that boy died.”

  There was pause on Eddie’s end of the line, as if confusion reigned. “What boy?”

  “The prisoner. The guy McCurdy and Saunders worked over? The kid in the hospital. Remember him?”

  “Oh! He’s okay, thank God. The doctors believe he’s going to pull through.”

  “Thank God,” Brent said as Makayla sat on the edge of the bed beside him. He held her hand and laid onto his back.

  “I’m calling,” Eddie said, “because we had a bad hit-and-run over on Belanchek. Female, white, is dead.”

  Although Brent had perked up when he heard that the suspect’s condition was improving, he was still half-asleep. “And you had to call me why?” he asked.

  “I had to call you, sir, because there were witnesses.”

  “Good. But that still doesn’t justify why you phoned me.”

  “We have witnesses claiming that they saw a red Corvette leave the scene of the hit-and-run. And not just any Corvette, sir, but Bobby’s red Corvette.”

  Brent’s eyes opened wide. He frowned. “My brother’s car?”

  Even Makayla could sense a change in his entire demeanor. She stared at him.

  “They claim they saw Bobby’s red-hot Corvette. Yes, sir,” Eddie said. “That’s why I phoned. They are certain it was your brother’s car.”

  “How many witnesses?”

  “Two. And they don’t seem to know each other. They seem credible.”

  Brent couldn’t believe it. What was going on this week? “Did you bring him in for questioning yet?”

  “I was waiting on you, sir.”

  Brent frowned again. “Don’t wait on me. What are you waiting on me for? You treat him the way you treat any other suspect. Pick him up and haul his ass in for questioning.”

  “He came in on his own,” Eddie said. “He’s here now. Along with your parents. I was waiting on you before I questioned him.”

  Brent wanted to throw his phone. “Why didn’t you say that from the beginning, Eddie?” Then he exhaled. He could only imagine what his parents were going through. “I’m on my way,” he said, and ended the call.

  “What happened?” Makayla asked.

  Brent looked at her pretty face. He smoothed down her hair. “Witnesses saw a red Corvette leave a fatal hit and run.”

  “Fatal?”

  “Yep.”

  “And a red Corvette?”

  “As in Bobby’s red Corvette, that’s right,” Brent said. “Witnesses are claiming my brother killed a woman, and then ran.”

  “Brent, no! Bobby wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “I pray he wouldn’t.”

  “Are you going to tell your father?”

  “He already knows.” Then he looked at her, and saw that worried look on her face. “But I don’t want you worrying about any of it. You hear me, Makayla? I can handle it.”

  But he still saw the worry in Makayla’s beautiful eyes. She worried about him, just as he worried about her. It was the nature of their relationship. He kissed her. “I’m going to have to get to work,” he said.

  She understood, although she hated to hear such terrible news, and moved off of him.

  He got up, still naked, and made his way to the bathroom. “Come shower with me,” he said to her. “I want to get inside of you again before I leave.”

  Makayla had already showered, but loved the thought of Brent inside of her too much to turn it down. She got up quickly, and followed him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Brent entered the police station and headed upstairs. He could hear a pin drop when he first walked into the squad room. By the time he started heading upstairs, all of the chatter of his officers started up agai
n. He shook his hand. They were some sorry-ass cops if they thought they were fooling him.

  Since it was Saturday, and he wasn’t planning to come into the office at all today, he wore a pair of track pants, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. And, of course, his hat. But clothes weren’t on his mind. His brother was. And what in the world had he gotten himself into now.

  When he made it upstairs, Belma Finch, his secretary, was seated behind her desk, which surprised him. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.

  “Paperwork. Earning extra money. What are you doing here?”

  Brent didn’t answer. He headed for his office.

  “Whatever he did,” Belma said, “go easy on him, boss. Bobby means well.”

  Brent entered his office. Jenay was seated in a chair beside Bobby, Charles was pacing, and Eddie Rivers stood in the back against the wall. Brent tossed his hat onto the hat rack, walked over to his desk, and leaned against it. He looked at Bobby. “Have something to tell me?” he asked him.

  Bobby looked at Jenay, then looked at his father. “Tell him,” Charles said.

  Bobby hesitated, and then he told the exact same story he told his parents, but failed to mention the drugs and alcohol. “After she didn’t have a pulse, Kaci called 911.” He swallowed hard. “And we left.”

  Brent looked at Eddie. “There’s no record of anybody calling 911, except one of the two witnesses.”

  Bobby frowned. “But Kaci called. I saw her.”

  “And you left that poor woman in the middle of the street?” Brent asked.

  “She was on the sidewalk,” Bobby said.

  Jenay slapped him upside his head before Brent or Charles could. “What difference does that make, boy? You left. That’s the point.”

  “Right,” Brent said, agreeing with her. “You left.”

  “But it was an accident,” Bobby said. “We didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Had you been drinking?” Brent asked him.

  Bobby glanced at his father, but did not answer the question.

  Brent exhaled. “Okay,” he said, and then looked at Eddie. “Cuff him, frisk him, and book him. Go to Kaci Keith’s apartment and haul her in too.”