“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Maxwell had heard his own voice rise but didn’t lower it. “Maybe you’re happy never having even dated a black woman, but some of us might like to experience dating one of our own.”
“Oh, really?” Jake shoved his plate aside, clearly offended. “And exactly what would you know about dating black women, Maxwell Simon? School me.”
• • •
“Dr. Simon?” Lala’s tentative tone pulled Maxwell back to the pressing demands of the workday, and he opened the examination room door for her.
“You can see yourself out down this hall,” he said, shepherding her gently across the threshold. “Thank you for your number, Lala. If you have any valid health care needs in the future, keep us in mind.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
To avoid the specter of watching Lala saunter away, Maxwell hustled into his office. Given that he had the young lady’s number in his pocket, he saw no sense prolonging the temptation to use it. Sure, he’d been surprised to feel something pulling him away from Lala, something tied to his growing feelings for Julia. Without the promise of that potential relationship, though, Maxwell knew his flesh would have him strung out on a pretty young thing like Lala. He wondered if Jake and Lyle knew how close they’d come to trapping him.
“I’ll show them.” Plans formulating quickly, Maxwell grabbed his phone and dialed Julia’s office number.
20
You have made a bad situation worse, Marcus,” Cassie said through pursed lips as she turned into their subdivision. It was a painful truth she had avoided speaking aloud from the minute Marcus was hauled off to the police station from Bar Louie, but after twenty minutes of silence during their drive home from the Greene County Jail, her patience was shot. They would have it out sooner or later, so why not get it over with.
“You’re right,” Marcus replied finally as they idled in their driveway while the garage door rose. “As with everything in your life, Cassie, none of your troubles are your own fault.”
Cassie winced internally. That hurt, but he’d have to do better to get a rise out of her. She was keeping the focus on him. “What did you think you were going to accomplish, exactly, sneaking up on Whitlock and threatening him like that? Marcus, he said you promised to kill him if he didn’t leave me alone!”
Marcus let a beat pass as Cassie parked and removed her key from the ignition. “You know I was bluffing,” he said, “but he didn’t need to know that. Law of the streets. The way to back someone off you is make them believe you’re willing to put it all on the line —kill or be killed.”
Cassie rolled her eyes despite herself. “What do you know about the street, Marcus? You’ve barely set foot into West Dayton since you left home for college.”
“Things haven’t changed that much,” he replied. “I’m not a babe in the woods; I made enough calls to friends in the police department to know Whitlock has a young son and visits his mother several times a week. He values life enough that a death threat will change his behavior.”
“And that’s why he responded to your threat by hitting you?”
“No,” Marcus replied, climbing from the car, “that was pure male adrenaline, a defensive response with no thought. If he had thought, he would have realized he’d wind up with a broken nose and several lost teeth.”
“None of this is funny,” Cassie insisted over the roar of the garage door as it shut. Approaching the door leading inside, she placed her hands on her hips and stared her husband down. “We were working a plan to convince him that there was nothing to be gained by harassing us, Marcus. He was cagey, but I think he was impressed that we retained defense attorneys. If we’d had a little more time, I think we could have convinced him that he’d finally get what he wanted —a new investigation into what really happened to his brother. Now he probably just wants our whole family dead.”
A hand on the doorknob, Marcus gazed lazily at his wife as he said, “Do you really want to argue this in front of the kids, or are you expecting me to talk this out in the garage? Because hashing through this will take hours.”
“The kids aren’t here,” Cassie replied, bumping him aside with a hip and using her key to open the door. Shutting off the alarm system, she glared back at him as they stood in the foyer. “While you’ve been gone the past two nights, I decided not to tell the kids their father was locked up with common criminals. I told them you had an emergency meeting and would be back today.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “They’re old enough to know where I really was, Cassie.”
“And we can tell them tonight,” she replied, turning back to face him, “once we’ve had it out. I did not want to tell them the truth in anger, okay? So they’re not here right now because I had Julia pick up the twins and take them to dinner with Amber. M.J.’s over at some little hot girl’s house —I can’t keep up with their names anymore.”
“So you have me all to yourself, huh?” Shrugging out of his coat and taking Cassie’s, he took care of business in the hall closet before turning back to her. “Well, settle in, my queen.”
“Ohh.” A ragged sigh escaped from Cassie as she planted both hands deep into her hairdo. “I know, Marcus. I know I should have told you I was meeting with Whitlock on Saturday. I just didn’t want you to get in the middle of it. I knew any confrontation between you two would end just like it did.”
“You,” Marcus said, a sudden jab of his finger accentuating the word, “don’t get to decide in advance what my reaction will be to anything, not when it comes to this situation. Do you understand me, Cassie? You kept me in the dark about all this for twenty years, when I’m supposed to be your life partner, your closest friend, your protector. Keeping secrets like that keeps me from doing my job, from being the protector you deserve.”
Cassie dipped her head, then recovered the ability to meet his eyes. “For the past three weeks, I’ve told you everything important at every step of the way. I told you every detail of our meeting with Toya and Terry. I told you that we couldn’t come up with a coherent account of exactly what happened. And I would have told you about the outcome of Saturday’s meeting that same night, if you’d just given me a chance.”
“You’re not hearing me,” Marcus said, his arms crossed as he took another step toward his wife. “I need to know that we’re in agreement on this, Cassie. If we’re going to keep this marriage viable, we’re going to stop with the secrets on either side. That means that I fight the temptation to cheat by telling you about every woman who flirts with me, and give you the opportunity to meet any female colleague who may be up to no good. But it also means that you keep me in the loop on everything involving Whitlock, and any other dark secrets you’ve been hiding.”
“Okay, that was out of line.” Cassie held her forehead before continuing. “Marcus, I hear you. I promise you before God, I will not make the same mistake again. But, baby, I’m not just upset for the sake of it. I saw the look in Whitlock’s eyes when they hauled you two off. I’m sure that unlike you, he was not threatened with an assault charge, but I’m also sure he’s not happy about having to explain why you confronted him.”
“I followed your instructions,” Marcus said, his expression blank. “I made it easy for him. I told the investigating officers that after stopping M.J. and Dante for speeding and bringing M.J. home, he’d seemingly grown attracted to you and was harassing you sexually. That was it. I’m sure Whitlock convinced them I was crazy and avoided any mention of his brother’s case.”
“We’d better pray so,” Cassie replied, hugging herself anxiously. “Let me go get the mail; then we can eat. I got some herb roast turkey at Kroger that just needs a few minutes in the microwave to be ready.”
Opening her front door, Cassie started for a minute at the sight of a late-model Mercedes that sat idling just in front of their mailbox. It was already dark, so with a sense of foreboding, she flicked on her porch light and shut the door behind herself. Had Whitlock purchased a new car
? If so, she had to get him out of here.
Her eyes trained on the gleaming black car, Cassie hustled to the box, removed her mail, and lingered just long enough to let the driver reveal him or herself. They were loitering in front of her property, after all.
All four windows of the car were tinted, and Cassie realized that if she didn’t act, she’d be walking back inside with no clue as to who this was. Her heartbeat accelerating, she inhaled and stepped to the curb, where she reached forward with her free hand and rapped insistently on the passenger-side window.
Her knuckles were still on the window when it suddenly zoomed down, revealing M.J.’s smiling face. “Hey, Mom,” he said, his gaze weary but easygoing. “I’ll be inside in a sec.”
Cassie didn’t really need to raise her eyes from her son’s handsome face to figure out who was in the driver’s seat. She still met her little cousin’s eyes as she said, “Dante, how are you this evening?”
“I’m good, Aunt Cassie,” Dante replied, reaching a hand over to pat hers. “My daddy says hey. You’re looking good.”
“Thank you,” she said. A light, misting rain had descended, and the way she felt, Cassie figured more steam had to be rising from her body with each passing second. “So what brings you two together this evening? M.J., I thought you were over at DaShea’s house this evening, with your own car.”
“Well, I was,” M.J. replied, trading sheepish glances with his cousin before meeting his mother’s glare. “Problem is, I was heading out from Shea’s, and realized my car battery is dead. D-E-A-D. Shea’s momma even tried to give me a jump, and it wouldn’t take.”
“That’s the only reason he called me, Aunt Cassie,” Dante said, his eyes taking on a childlike innocence, his tone apologetic. “I know you don’t want him hanging around with me anymore, but he’d tried all his other boys, and, well, I’m the only one who was free.”
“I understand,” Cassie said calmly. It was M.J. she intended to strangle within minutes, not her little cousin. Bless his heart, Dante was what he was. She had tried for years to positively influence the child. She had helped babysit him for the first few years of his life, had provided in more recent years for some of his educational and clothing needs when his father Donald’s money was tight, and had been used by God to lead Donald to Christ a decade ago. When it all came down to it, though, Cassie was now fighting to save her own son from himself —and from Peter Whitlock.
As far as Dante was concerned, Cassie was spent. God help him, please. As Cassie walked insistently back toward the house, she barely registered M.J.’s promise to come inside within minutes.
Back inside their home, her son had barely shut the door behind himself when Cassie grabbed a cordless phone and told him to sit down. “Your father and I need to talk to you,” she said.
“Whatever.” Dutifully settling in at the kitchen table, M.J. took out his cell phone and began punching in a text message. When Marcus stepped into view, he grunted in acknowledgment as Cassie joined them at the table.
“Donald,” she said into her phone when her cousin’s voice mail kicked in, “I need to speak with you this evening, please. I pray all is well, but I have an urgent matter regarding Dante and M.J. I really need your support in keeping the two of them apart. We’ve talked about this before, but I’d like to explain more background. Okay? So call me. Love you.”
“What are you doing, Mom?” M.J. stared at his mother in alarm as she set her phone down. He had set his own cell aside.
“I’m handling a situation,” Cassie replied. “As you like to remind me, M.J., you are a good son in so many ways. You make us proud in so many ways. But it’s clear that when it comes to avoiding dangerous company, Dante especially, you’re not capable of being obedient.”
“Mom, come on,” M.J. replied. “We just explained what happened —”
“I don’t need any explanations,” Cassie replied. “I tried to use the honor system with you, but you didn’t respect that. So the rules have changed.” She reached across the table and took the cell phone. “No phone privileges, no car use, and either your father or I will pick you up every night from after-school activities.” She took a beat. “Yes, that includes football and then basketball.”
M.J. glanced between both parents before chuckling under his breath. For the first time, he looked directly at his father. “I suppose you’re backing her up on this, never mind that it’s clear you just spent a couple of nights in jail.”
Marcus crossed his arms. “Oh, you have it all figured out, do you? You didn’t buy your mother’s explanation to you and the girls, that I had a sudden business trip?”
“I had my doubts,” M.J. replied, smiling. “Thanks for confirming them. Which girlfriend were you with this time?”
Marcus rose from his seat. “Apologize, son,” he said, voice husky with emotion. “Apologize right now.”
“You plannin’ on making me?”
Cassie jumped to her feet, placed what she hoped looked like loving hands around her husband’s neck. “Marcus Gillette Jr., you apologize right now for not showing your father the proper respect. I won’t have it, M.J., I just won’t.”
“You want to earn a freakin’ apology?” M.J. shoved back from the table, standing to his feet. “Then treat me like a man! Why you all got this hard-on about me hangin’ around with Dante? I know he’s been in some trouble, but he’s family!”
Surprised at the nature of her son’s question, Cassie found herself hedging. “Son, listen —”
“Salt and light,” M.J. said, pacing back and forth with his arms swinging wide. “If there’s one thing Sunday school’s drilled into me, it’s that concept. That as Christians we should be salt and light, bringing God into the lives of those around us. That’s all I’m trying to do for Dante. You all know me. I don’t shoot up, I don’t sell drugs —shoot, for that matter, I don’t get down with the type of girls who date Dante or his dealer friends.”
Marcus winked. “No, you just get down with all the other girls instead.”
“Never mind that,” M.J. replied, shrugging and looking embarrassed for a moment before the glare returned to his eyes. “I’m telling y’all; I’m slowly getting through to him. I mean, he hasn’t changed all his bad habits yet, but he’s showing more interest in the Bible and everything.”
Marcus sighed as Cassie processed her boy’s unexpectedly heartening words. “Sit down, son,” he said, exchanging glances with Cassie. “He turns eighteen in a matter of months, Cassie. He’s old enough to know. It’s the best way to keep him safe.”
“Yes,” Cassie said, her voice shaky in her own ears as she dug deep for a new dose of faith. She knew, finally, that this was the way to help her son understand what was at stake. “M.J.,” she said, reaching over and taking his hand, “listen. Maybe you’ll finally understand why your father and I are so worried for you.”
21
Hey, Doc,” Peter Whitlock said as Maxwell approached his police station desk. Standing, he shot a hand forward, shaking vigorously and locking eyes. “My mother will be thrilled that we’ve finally talked.”
“Your mother keeps my clinic afloat, Detective,” Maxwell replied, smiling easily as he withdrew from the handshake. “With all she’s done for me, I had to honor her request that we speak.” Sliding his hands back into his cashmere overcoat, he glanced around the room as he asked, “Where did you want to grab a bite?”
Stepping back to his desk and grabbing a ring of keys, Whitlock smirked visibly. “Oh, yeah, about that. Turns out I’m really pressed for time, Doc. You mind if we just grab a free room down the hall here?”
“Uh —okay.” Medical doctor or not, shared heir to a multimillion-dollar fortune or not, Maxwell was still a black man. “Hanging out” in a police station would never pass for his idea of fun.
“Come on,” Whitlock said, walking jauntily and gesturing over his shoulder. “I’m sure there’s a free interrogation room.”
Standing at the threshold of the small, al
l-concrete room the detective selected, Maxwell cleared his throat. His internal radar told him he was matching wits with exactly the type of person he dreaded —a white “brother” full of both race and class-based resentment. Is that what it takes to get us on equal footing, Detective? Make me feel like I’m one of the criminals or innocents you badger every day?
Because this was Edna’s son, though, Maxwell left the thoughts unspoken. Following behind Whitlock, he pointed nonchalantly toward one of the low metal chairs before them. “Guess this one’s mine?”
“Whichever you find more comfy,” Whitlock replied, chuckling. Taking the other seat, he looked at Maxwell across the table separating them. “So what’s on your mind? Or should I say, what’s on my mother’s mind, at least where I’m concerned?”
“Well,” Maxwell said, his elbows on the table, his eyes searching Whitlock’s, “your mother is concerned that there may be other things going on in your life that explain your obsession with Eddie’s case. Is everything okay with your health, Pete?”
“Back off,” Whitlock replied, eyes smiling. “You’re talking to a man who respects your profession. I get my annual checkup, I watch my cholesterol, you name it. I’m good.”
“Okay.” Maxwell stood, happy to reverse the dynamic for Whitlock. “Now don’t take offense, but your mother’s concerned with how you’re handling your divorce and the burden of raising your son with limited custody. Is she off-base?”
The light in the detective’s eyes faded suddenly. “You have children, Doc?”
Caught off-guard, Maxwell stumbled his way into an answer. “Uh, no. Not sure I get the point?”
“If you had children,” Whitlock continued, “you’d know, or at least be able to imagine, how tough it is being in your kid’s life when his mother hates you. It’s no picnic.” Whitlock stood suddenly, his fingers fidgety. “Man, I need a cigarette. Let’s move this along.”
God Only Knows Page 13
