Diamond (G Street Chronicles Presents The Love, Lies & Lust Series)

by Mz. Robinson

  I felt a knot rising in the center of my throat and tears forming in the wells of my eyes. I stared at Gator in utter shock as the Whitmores erupted in a celebratory uproar while my heart slowly sank to my toes.

  * * * * *

  “There’s still more than enough money in the account for you to start over,” Gator stated.

  I was sitting on the patio of our home, barefoot, with the phone pressed to my ear, stretched out on one of the chaise lounges surrounding our pool. I stared at the sun and watched as it slowly began to sink into the horizon. I was still wearing the fitted white pantsuit I’d worn to his hearing hours earlier; since leaving the courthouse, I’d only summoned up enough energy to tell Venetta and Randall the verdict and to have a good cry for myself. Five hours later, my tears had subsided, but I was still trying to grasp the reality of the harsh verdict. “Start over?” I said in disbelief.

  “Yes. You can leave town and start fresh.”

  I’d never considered leaving town. I had, on the other hand, considered cleaning our bank accounts out on more than one occasion, but I’d quickly abandoned those thoughts. “This is my home,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Besides, we’re gonna appeal. You promised me you’d come home to me, Gator, and I’m gonna hold you to it.”

  “I always keep my promises,” he assured me.

  “You better,” I said softly.

  “Until next time, my love.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he said, then hung up.

  I continued to sit on the patio until nightfall, replaying our conversation over and over in my head. I didn’t want to start over without him, and I refused to run out on my husband. I refused to abandon him, especially when he needed me most, but the possibility of what could come terrified me. What kind of life will we have with him behind bars? I’d heard about plenty of honorable, ride-or-die females who waited patiently, day by day, for their loves to return home, and I could salute every one of them, but I had to be real with myself. Loneliness was a motherfucker for me, and I needed another’s legs, arms, and hands wrapped around mine from time to time. Being alone for two or three years was one thing, but twenty years or, worse, the rest of my life was a whole different ballgame.

  “You okay, sis?” Randall asked, stepping out onto the patio, holding a six-pack of Heineken and a bottle opener.

  “I will be,” I said, watching him as he sat down beside me.

  He set the six-pack down on the concrete and offered me an icy bottle.

  “No thank you,” I said politely. “I’m not big on beer.”

  “Never insult a man by turning down his drink,” he said.

  “I’m good…really.”

  “Take it, Diamond,” he said firmly.

  After several seconds of going back and forth, I honored his request, and Randall smiled victoriously while popping the top on the bottle with the opener. I took a quick sip of the beer, frowned, and set the bottle on the ground next to the chaise.

  Randall looked at me, then turned the corner of his lips up.

  “What?”

  “I know we ain’t got that damn bougie.”

  “I told you, I’m not big on beer.”

  “Anymore,” he laughed, popping another bottle open. “Back in the day, you always sneaked swigs of my Icehouse.”

  “I was twelve.” I laughed. “And if I remember correctly, they tasted like watered-down piss.”

  “They do now because you’re used to that high shit,” he said. He turned the bottle up, guzzled down half the beer, then exhaled. “Ah…” He belched. “But back in the day, you thought that watered-down piss was the bomb.”

  “That was only because I didn’t know any better.” I giggled. “Not to mention, I was doing somethin’ I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Things always taste and feel better when you’re not supposed to do them.”

  “True,” he agreed, and we both took another drink. “You were bad as hell, too, twelve years old and at the party gettin’ tipsy.”

  “Says the sixteen-year-old who took me,” I reminded him.

  He laughed. “Mama and Daddy woulda beat both our asses if they’da known.”

  “Hell yeah, they woulda. Those were good times though. Life was simple and easy,” I stated sadly.

  “That’s because we took what we had and made the best out of it,” Randall said seriously. “We didn’t have much, but we had each other, and we were happy as hell.”

  “How do we get that back?” I questioned.

  “What?”

  “That simple, easy happiness.”

  “We can’t, but we can start over. I know because I’ve done it.”

  “What am I gonna do without him?” I questioned, referring to Gator. “Clint says he might get life, Randall.”

  “What were you doing before you met him?”

  I shrugged. “Just living, I guess.”

  “So that’s it. You’ll keep on livin’, sis. That’s all you can do.”

  The sound of the patio door opening captured our attentions. I turned slightly and saw Venetta standing in the doorway. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from tears. Earlier, when I’d confirmed the verdict, she’d suffered an emotional breakdown, and Randall had had to carry her upstairs to her bedroom. She cut her eyes from me to Randall erratically. “Are we celebrating?” she asked lowly.

  “No. Randall’s just trying to help me keep my mind off things.”

  “Keep your mind off things?” she repeated, stepping out onto the patio. “Who’s gonna keep Leon’s mind off things? You do realize my brother is going to prison, right? Do you even care?”

  I understood that Venetta was dealing with yet another heartbreak and that she had no idea how to channel her anger, but I was not in the mood for her bullshit. “Of course I care,” I said calmly. “I love him.”

  “Venetta, there’s nothing Diamond can do,” Randall advised her.

  “Nothin’ we can do? Pssh! Am I the only one who thinks they deserve to be punished?”

  “Who?”

  “That family,” she snapped. “They did this. They killed my baby, got my husband killed…and now they’ve basically destroyed my brother.”

  “V., the Whitmores are not the problem.”

  She looked at me with rage and hatred blazing in her eyes. “You’ve never been truly dedicated to this family, Diamond,” she spat. “Leon shoulda left your ass in the streets where he found you. He never should have talked to you at that damn gas station.”

  “Don’t you dare question my dedication! I was there for every second of that trial. I sat there in that courtroom alone when they announced the verdict. You didn’t even have the courage to show up. Secondly, I wasn’t in the damn streets when he met me. I was handling my own, without a problem,” I said, standing. “I know you’re hurting right now, Venetta, but don’t forget that this is my house.” I studied her expression, waiting for her next move or word. I loved Venetta like my own flesh and blood, but I knew I wouldn’t have any problem whooping her ass if I had to.

  “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome in your house,” she said, glaring at me. “It’s time for me to return to my own home.” She rolled her eyes and marched off through the patio doors, letting them slam behind her.

  “She’s crazy,” Randall said, shaking his head. “Certifiably crazy.”

  “Nah, she’s just dealing with too much at one time. She’s actually a really good person.”

  “I understand she’s going through some shit,” he said, “but somethin’ isn’t clickin’ right in her head. It’s good that she’s going home, Diamond. She sticks around here, and I’m afraid she’ll start something she won’t be able to finish with that whacked-out mind and that nasty mouth of hers.”

  Chapter 19

  Gator’s sentencing came swiftly, but the weight was unbearable. Two weeks after the jury found him guilty, he was sentenced to life in prison. I’d tried to prepare myself
for any outcome, but the truth was that I’d been naïvely deluding myself, hoping that somehow or someway, my husband would receive mercy from the court.

  After Gator’s official conviction and sentencing, the government stepped in, freezing our bank account and ordering seizure of all properties held in his name. That left me with only our primary residence and $42,000 in cash.

  I couldn’t understand how it was possible. Jonah had taken complete responsibility for their business and hadn’t so much as whispered Gator’s name. He’d stood firm on his word, commitment, and loyalty to my husband, so there was nothing tying Gator to their illegal activities but word-of-mouth, a whole bunch of he-said, she-said, circumstantial bullshit. The properties that had been raided were even in someone else’s name, but even that didn’t stop Uncle Sam from breaking me.

  I immediately turned to Clint for answers. “How is this happening?” I snapped. “How are the Feds allowed to do this?”

  “It’s call forfeiture,” he explained. “If the police have suspicion that your property was purchased using monies earned from illegal activities, they can seize it.”

  “Suspicion? What ever happened to proof?”

  “In this situation, Diamond, you’ll have to prove your own innocence. You can fight it, but you’ll have to prove, without a doubt, that your money and property were earned from legitimate business.”

  “This isn’t right! What am I supposed to do?” I felt tears of anger surfacing in the wells of my eyes, but I bravely fought them back.

  Clint sat behind his desk with an expression of remorse and regret plastered on his face. I was on the verge of broke, without a clue of how or what I was going to do next, and all my husband’s high-priced attorney could do was give me a pitiful expression and a sorry excuse. I didn’t know what pissed me off more: his lack of success with Gator’s case or the fact that Gator actually trusted him.

  “Diamond, do you realize how lucky you are ?” he asked firmly. “You still have a roof over your head, and—”

  “What good is the damn roof if I can’t keep the lights on under it?”

  “Maybe you should find a house you can afford to light,” he suggested, sounding almost cynical.

  “Don’t get grand, Clint.”

  “Then stop acting like a damn victim. What do you do next? You get a job, sell the house, and move in with your sister-in-law till you can get back on your feet. You build a respectable name for yourself.” He stood and adjusted his jacket. “Any one of those just might work.”

  I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “As of today, my husband is no longer your client,” I stated. “I’ll hire someone else to handle his appeal, someone who can handle the job.”

  “Hire someone with what?” he questioned sarcastically. “You can’t even afford the retainer for one of those rent-a-lawyers on the daytime TV commercials.”

  I suppressed my desire to tell the man to kiss my ass and instead turned on my heels, swung the office door open, and left. I stomped down the carpeted corridor toward the elevator, with tears streaming down my face. My stride came to a halt as memories and flashbacks of how far I had fallen plagued my mind like a bitter disease. I leaned against the wall, covering my face with my hands. The weight of my emotional anguish came crashing down upon me in a wave of breathless tears as I broke down, overcome with defeat. I cried for my husband. I cried for myself. I cried for what we had become.

  * * * * *

  The home I’d once shared with my parents was located in a small subdivision, Ebony Heights. It was at the at the end of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by rows of hedges that my father had spent hours meticulously trimming when he was still alive; Daddy had always taken the same pride in his lawn that most women took in their hair. My mother, Anna, took the same pride in maintaining the interior of our home.

  I sat in my car, parked against the curb, staring at the house, the same red bricks and green shutters I remembered. In the driveway sat my mother’s white, four-door Toyota Camry; she’d been driving the same car for years, but it still looked almost showroom new on the outside. I wondered why she hadn’t upgraded and traded the car in, but then I reminded myself that some women were content with the basics, even if I wasn’t.

  I grabbed my handbag and climbed out of my car. As I walked up the cement driveway, I realized I had no idea what I was going to say or even how to say it. I stood in front of the door, attempting to get my nerves together. I considered returning to my vehicle and leaving, but inside of me burned a deep desire to see her face, hear her voice, and hopefully see her smile. I hesitated while staring at the doorbell, contemplating whether or not I was making the right decision.

  The door opened before I made up my mind, and I found myself standing face to face with my mother. Her light brown skin and penetrating, dark brown eyes were exactly as I remembered them. A few laugh lines creased the area around her full lips, but she was still one of the prettiest women I’d ever seen. She was wearing a plain denim dress that stopped just below her knees and black sandals. Her head was covered in cornrows, secured neatly in a bun. She looked at me intensely for a moment, allowing her eyes to travel from mine down to my open-toed pumps and then back up again. “Hello, Diamond,” she said. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I saw you drive up.”

  “Hello, Mama,” I said softly.

  “It’s been a long time,” she said, staring at me.

  “I know.”

  “Come on in,” she said.

  I followed my mother inside her home and shut the door behind me. I looked around the small living room and noticed that not much had changed since the last time I’d been there. The walls were still painted the color of eggshells, and there was still a shrine of family pictures covering all the walls. The only difference was that the drab, floral-print sofa and matching chair I remembered had been replaced with a nice, plush tan sofa and loveseat.

  “Sit down,” Mama ordered, situating herself on the loveseat.

  I sat on the edge of the sofa closest to where she was sitting and placed my bag down on the wooden coffee table in front of me.

  Mama shot a glance at my bag, then looked at me; I was positive she was calculating the cost of the bag in her head. The tension in the room was so thick that it was almost suffocating.

  “How have you been?” I questioned.

  “All right,” she said casually, “just livin’ by the grace of God.”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  A long silence ensued before she said, “I knew you’d come a-callin’ eventually.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Diamond, don’t pretend this visit is a friendly one,” she said. “I been watchin’ the news, readin’ the papers.” She shook her head. “I warned you that he’d drag you down. I just knew that man would lead to your destruction.”

  “That man is my husband,” I corrected her, “and I’m not destroyed. I’m still here, so I guess you were wrong.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked coldly.

  “Because I wanted to see you.”

  “Because you’re in trouble.” She huffed. “Just like the prodigal son, you wanna return home after you been out there whinin’ and dinin’ and swinin’.”

  I had no intention of asking my mother to let me back into her home. My only wish was that I could sit down with her and have a decent conversation.

  “I haven’t laid eyes on you in years, child,” she continued. “You haven’t even called me. Just checks in the mail, with no return address.”

  Wait…checks? I’d never sent her a check in my life, and I knew there could be only one person responsible; Gator. “I thought you were mad at me,” I confessed, “and I didn’t know how to reach out to you.”

  “You’ve always known where I live,” Mama disputed.

  “Well, I guess I’m reaching out now.”

  “For the record, Diamond, I wasn’t mad,” she said, leaning forward on the sofa. “I was disappointed. Between you and that brot
her of yours, you were the one I thought I’d never have to worry about. You didn’t mind working, and you were smart enough to want more out of life than just a title or fancy things. You wanted to be successful, and you could have. It’s in your genes, somethin’ you got from your daddy,” she said, clutching her chest.

  “Was Daddy really all that successful, Mama?” I asked. “He died struggling to make ends meet, ends that never came together. What kind of life is that?”

  “My Oscar did what he could,” she said. “He was kindhearted and maybe a little naïve sometimes, but he was a good man.”

  “Leon is a good man, too, Mama.”

  “Humph.” She grunted. “You coulda done much better. You deserve more than a killer and a thug, and that’s why I’m so disappointed.”

  “So I let you down. I screwed up. Okay, but what ever happened to forgiveness?” I asked solemnly.

  “You don’t want my forgiveness, Diamond,” she stated. “You want me to tell you everything is gonna be all right, that this, too, shall pass. You want me to say that despite all the wrong you’ve done, it’ll all come together for good, that it’ll all work out in your favor.”

  I couldn’t argue with her, because that was exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted my mother to wrap her arms around me and repeat those very words, and I wanted her to mean them. “You’re right,” I said, swallowing the small lump in my throat. “I need you to tell me that.” I dropped my head, allowing my tears to fall freely.

  “I can’t do that, Diamond.” She sighed. “I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t plan on startin’ now. You made your bed, and now you’ve gotta lie in it. I love you. Lord knows I do, but I won’t lie to spare your feelings.”

  I nodded me head. “Thank you for your honesty,” I whispered, echoing what Gator had said to her so long ago. “I should have known better. You have more care and concern for a stranger on the street than you have for your own flesh and blood. How is that possible, Mama? Isn’t love supposed to start at home?”

  “My home has always been filled with love,” she said defensively. “You walked away from the love. You wanted the money and all the flash and glitz instead. You got what you wanted, and now you have to deal with the repercussions.”