Aftermath

by Tracy Brown

  Camille picked up a nearby vase and tossed it at Gillian’s head with all her might. Narrowly missing its target, the Mikasa crystal piece hit the wall behind Gillian and shattered into a thousand pieces. Gillian cried out and ducked.

  “Camille!” Frankie yelled her name this time, and rushed toward her before she could pick up anything else.

  “I didn’t come here to talk to you, bitch!” Camille unzipped her jacket and stepped closer to Gillian. Gone was the demure seen-and-not-heard Camille Bingham. She was a woman scorned and hell hath no fury … “Go sit the fuck down and be quiet!”

  “Bitch?” Gillian frowned, looking from Camille to the glass at her feet and back again. It was clear that Gillian was piecing together the fact that Camille had officially lost her mind. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”

  “Yeah,” Camille said, her index finger pointed directly in the face of her husband’s mistress. “Bitch!” Frankie was holding her back and preventing her from getting close enough to hit Gillian.

  Gillian seemed as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. “Don’t make me fuck you up, Camille!”

  Frankie looked like he had absolutely no control over the situation at hand. Both women were furious. Calmly and in a low voice, he spoke firmly to his wife.

  “Camille, you can’t come in here like this. Go home. I’ll call you in a little while.”

  But Camille wasn’t trying to hear that. “Yeah, right. Frankie, I’m here now. Talk to me now.”

  “I’m gonna ask you one more time to get out of my house before I call the cops, Camille,” Gillian said, her chest heaving with rage.

  “Fuck you!” Camille was furious and Gillian’s threat fell on deaf ears.

  Frankie blamed himself for this. He had seen the dozens of missed calls from Camille over the past few weeks. He had known that he was only prolonging the inevitable by ignoring her. But he had never expected Camille to come out of her character the way she was now. He wanted to protest as Gillian made a beeline for the telephone. In their business, the last thing they normally did was involve the police. But he knew that if he protested, Gillian would think he was defending Camille.

  Camille ignored the fact that Gillian had stomped into the bedroom to get her phone and was apparently dialing 911. She turned her attention to Frankie again. “I need money,” she said. “The bills are paid, but I have nothing left to eat with, no money for gas or for—”

  “Here, Camille!” With the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder, Gillian emerged from her bedroom, snatched her purse off the coffee table and pulled out a wad of cash. She tossed the bills in the direction of Frankie’s unwanted wife. “Take it. And go home and wait for Frankie to call you tomorrow.”

  Camille couldn’t believe her eyes. Was this bitch treating her like a charity case? She charged toward Gillian prepared to kill the whore with her bare hands. But Frankie stopped her, restraining her as she struggled to break free. “Don’t throw money at me like I’m some fuckin’ bum on the street. I’m not asking you for shit! I’m not even fuckin’ talking to you. Mind your business!”

  “This is my business, sweetie. It’s my house.”

  “And this is my husband,” Camille reminded her.

  “Yes, I do have an emergency,” Gillian spoke into the telephone. “The address is—”

  “Go ahead and call ’em,” Camille said. “ ’Cuz I ain’t going nowhere.”

  Frankie looked torn. There was no way for him to put an end to this amicably. The face-off he had been hoping to avoid was now upon him.

  Gillian continued her conversation with the 911 operator. But she couldn’t help thinking that Frankie was acting like a real pussy right now. She didn’t understand why he hadn’t kicked Camille the fuck out already. The bitch had barged into Gillian’s house, cursed at her, and aimed a very heavy object at her head. Gillian paced the floor, thinking Frankie was lucky she hadn’t murdered his little Stepford wife yet. She watched him struggling with himself about what to do next, how to defuse the situation. And Gillian couldn’t help losing the slightest bit of respect for Frankie.

  Camille’s voice rose. “I can’t believe you, Frankie,” Camille said, shaking her head in amazement. “What kind of man are you? If someone had told me a year ago that we would be standing here … I wouldn’t have believed that you would be so coldhearted and cruel as you’ve been lately. I know you don’t love me anymore. I’m coming to terms with that. But I’m still your wife. I’m carrying your child in my womb. There’s years of history between us … yet you can sit back and watch me suffer? You can sleep at night knowing that you cut me off from all the money, knowing that I’m pregnant and that my whole life has been turned upside down?”

  “Well,” he said softly, “you’re not the only one whose life was turned upside down.”

  She nodded. “I know. But it’s not my fault, Frankie. I feel like you’re blaming me for what Misa did. I don’t know if Steven did what she thinks he did. What I do know is that somebody was molesting Shane. So whether she was wrong or right about Steven, Misa is devastated by what was done to her son.”

  Frankie’s jaw clenched. “That didn’t give her a right to kill my brother.”

  Camille shook her head. “Maybe not. But that has nothing to do with me and you.”

  “Don’t it?” Frankie asked incredulously. “I mean she is your sister.”

  “So what? You think that by hurting me, neglecting and ignoring me, that you’re somehow punishing Misa? She’s already going through hell with what happened to her son. Her only priority right now is Shane.”

  “Well, it seems kinda funny that you’re coming to me for money, but you somehow found the money to bail her out.”

  Camille had wondered when he would bring that up. She knew that Frankie would wonder where she’d gotten that money from.

  “You found hundreds of thousands of dollars for bail and for that high-priced lawyer she got, but you can’t gas up your Range?” Frankie had a confused expression on his face and Camille noticed Gillian smirking. She wanted to scratch that bitch’s eyes out.

  “Mama is paying for Misa’s attorney.”

  “Yeah right!” Frankie scoffed. He knew all too well that Lily couldn’t possibly have the money it took to bail Misa out, let alone to pay Teresa Rourke’s exorbitant hourly fee.

  “And we bailed Misa out with every penny we managed to scrape together. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to do it. So don’t go thinking I’ve been hoarding cash all these years because I wasn’t. Obviously I should have been!” She held her arms out helplessly. “But I wasn’t. I trusted that you would never leave me with nothing. Whether you want to be with me or not, I’m still the woman you married. And what about the baby? You haven’t even mentioned the fact that you’re gonna be a father!”

  He shook his head. “How am I supposed to feel, Camille?” he asked seriously. Gillian had hung up the phone, having been assured that the police were on their way, and was standing nearby with her arms folded across her chest, hanging on his every word. “Am I supposed to be happy about a baby when I told you over and over again that I wasn’t ready to be a father? Our marriage is basically over and you expect me to be overjoyed that you’re pregnant? I’m not!”

  Camille winced a little hearing him say that, especially in front of Gillian. “Well, whether you’re overjoyed or not, there’s still a baby. And not talking about it isn’t going to make it go away.”

  “I know that,” Frankie acknowledged. “So, let me talk to my lawyer and find out how much I should be giving you every month until—”

  “Fuck that, Frankie!” Camille was outraged. “We don’t need lawyers to tell us how to deal with each other. I’m your wife! You give me what you know I deserve and let’s settle this like adults. You’re treating me like a fuckin’ stranger.”

  “It’s not that simple anymore.” Frankie looked at the floor.

  “Why not?”

  He looked at his wife as if she were b
lind to what was going on all around them. “Because, Camille … my brother is dead. Your sister killed him.” Frankie shook his head. “Even before that, I told you I wanted out. I told you that it was over.”

  Camille cocked her head to the side. “Ohhhhh, I see,” she said, nodding slowly. “So you think that because you want out of our marriage, and because of what Misa did, you’re no longer responsible for me or for the baby I’m carrying? Does that even make sense to you?” Camille laughed, but she was far from amused. She was so hurt that her heart felt like it would burst inside her chest. “You let this bitch brainwash you into cutting me off because it makes her feel good. It makes her happy watching you ignore me and avoid me and you’re such a fucking coward that you’re letting her manipulate you.”

  “Ain’t nobody manipulating me, Camille.” Frankie shook his head. “And I already told you that I’ll call you tomorrow so we can talk about the money. What you need to do now is—”

  “Wait, let me guess. Go home and wait for your imaginary phone call?” Camille gave him a look that told him this wasn’t a possibility.

  The doorbell rang and Gillian stormed over to it and happily ushered two uniformed police officers inside.

  Camille stood silently as Gillian explained the situation at hand.

  “I’ve asked this woman to leave my house more than once. She came over here uninvited—”

  “I came to talk to my husband, not to cause any trouble, sir,” Camille addressed the younger black officer directly. She noticed that his Puerto Rican partner was busy ogling Gillian.

  The black cop looked at Frankie. “Is this your wife?”

  Frankie nodded and watched as both officers assessed the situation. Clearly, Gillian and Frankie had been in bed together as evidenced by their pajamas and the late hour. If Camille was this man’s wife, it was obvious why they’d been called.

  Gillian could see that they were beginning to take pity on Camille by the change in the police’s facial expressions. “She barged in here and threw a fucking vase at my head after I asked her to leave.”

  The Puerto Rican cop walked over and observed the shattered glass on the floor. He looked at Camille and shook his head. “Did you do this?”

  Camille looked at Frankie to see if he would intervene. Thankfully, he did.

  “She was upset,” Frankie explained. “I don’t think she was trying to hit anybody with it.”

  Camille had to suppress a smile as she saw Gillian shoot a treacherous glance in Frankie’s direction. Clearly, she was not happy hearing him defend his wife.

  Frankie cleared his throat. “But I told her that I’m gonna call her tomorrow to talk to her and she should go home.” He looked at Camille. He still wanted her gone, but he sure didn’t want to see her hauled off to jail.

  She shook her head. She knew that Frankie wouldn’t be calling to talk about anything tomorrow. Tears gathered in her eyes and threatened to pour forth, so she squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from Frankie and his concubine. She didn’t want to give them the pleasure of seeing her cry yet again.

  While his partner spoke with Gillian and Frankie in hushed tones about the events of the evening, the black officer approached Camille and touched her softly on her shoulder.

  “Ma’am, I can see what’s going on here and I know you must be upset,” he said. “But this is this woman’s house and you can’t just refuse to leave. She can have you arrested for trespassing and I know you don’t want to give her that satisfaction.”

  It was as if he was reading her mind and Camille wiped her eyes and looked at him. Glancing at his uniform, she saw that his last name was King. She appreciated the fact that he was being so kind to her. Especially since his partner seemed so enamored with her nemesis.

  “I just wanted my husband to talk to me, that’s all. It’s been weeks and I’ve been calling him for money, calling him to talk about what’s going on…” Camille looked at the floor and shook her head. It was pointless. She let out a deep sigh. Making eye contact with Officer King once more, she shrugged. “But I guess I can’t force him to be a real man.” She zipped up her jacket and smoothed her hair down. “I’ll leave.”

  Officer King felt sorry for the pretty lady with the cute fur jacket who stood before him. She looked so hurt and so disappointed by what was going on and he noticed that her so-called husband seemed especially cold toward her. Frankie stood across the room with Gillian looking like all he wanted was for Camille to be gone.

  Camille stole one last glance at her husband as she headed for the door. Frankie met her gaze and felt a tug on his conscience. But then he thought of his brother, thought of Misa and what she had done, and remembered that Camille was on her side. He looked away as Officer King followed Camille out of Gillian’s house and into the bitter night cold.

  While Gillian thanked his partner, Officer King watched as Camille dejectedly descended the stairs and climbed behind the wheel of her truck. As she pulled away from the curb, he watched her wipe her eyes, the tears no longer kept at bay.

  Painful Truths

  Dominique put the last of the dinner dishes away and poured herself a glass of wine. The past twenty-four hours had been very trying. She had accompanied her teenaged daughter to have an abortion and then sat up with her for most of the night talking like schoolgirls. Truthfully, Octavia had been having trouble sleeping, believing that nightmares would plague her as a punishment for what she’d done. She didn’t regret having the abortion, since she knew she wasn’t ready to be a mother. But she still felt guilty for having gotten pregnant in the first place and now felt as if she had a permanent stain on her, for which she would someday have to answer to God. Her conscience troubled her, so it had come as a welcome distraction when her mother had crawled into bed with her and chatted for hours about everything and nothing at the same time.

  Dominique had been equally as anxious for conversation that night. It was Jamel’s first day home as a free man, and Dominique had not seen him at all. When she and Octavia had returned home from the procedure, Dominique had been happy to hear Jamel’s voice on the answering machine announcing that he had landed in the concrete jungle safely.

  “Hey, baby! I’m home! I just wanted to call you and let you know that I made it and that I love you. Feels good to be a free man. I hope everything goes well for you and your princess today. I’ll call you tonight to hear that sexy voice of yours. Mwah!”

  Jamel had sealed his voice mail with a kiss and it had made Dominique smile. That smile had faded now, as more than twenty-four hours had passed since that message and she hadn’t heard a peep from Jamel since.

  She was worried about him, wondering if he was hurt or if he was in trouble. She had expected to hear from him by now and was doing her best not to suspect the worst.

  Octavia was in her room listening to sad love songs, while Dominique took comfort in the bottom of a wineglass. The doorbell ringing brought both ladies scampering toward the front door at the same time, eager for a distraction from their thoughts.

  “Surprise!” Toya sang, as Dominique swung the door open. By now, Rafael the doorman was familiar with Toya from her previous visits and she had explained that this was a surprise girls’ night in for her friend. Toya had slipped him a twenty and he looked the other way as they headed upstairs unannounced. She strolled into Dominique’s apartment now as if she owned the place. Camille and Misa filed in after Toya and Dominique couldn’t stop smiling. This was the first time that all four of them had been together since Misa’s arrest.

  Toya took one look at the wine in Dominique’s hand and shook her head. Taking the glass from her hand, she replaced it with a pint of Rémy. “We’re going in tonight! All of us need it. Hell, even Octavia might need a little sip, you feel me?”

  Dominique started to protest, but noticed that Toya was laughing. She watched as her friends poured into her home and began unloading food and drinks for their planned slumber party.

  Camille explained: “I needed to
get away from Staten Island for a little while, and Misa can’t take another minute of Mama.” The girls laughed, all knowing that spending any length of time with one’s mother could drive a person insane. “So, Toya suggested that we all crash over here tonight.”

  “I knew that if we invited you to my house, you would have said no. You wouldn’t want to leave Octavia at home all alone. So here we are.” Toya kicked off her shoes and went to the kitchen to get some ice.

  Dominique couldn’t have been happier. “I’m glad you guys are here.” She watched Camille assisting Misa with the salsa, chips, and cheese and smiled. For the first time all day, she stopped wondering where Jamel was and what he was doing. Right now all she wanted was to chill with her girls and reconnect after several tumultuous weeks. She started laying out the shrimp ring.

  While they set up shop in the living room, Octavia slipped into the kitchen where Toya was filling up an ice bucket. Toya smiled when she saw her and Octavia closed in for a hug. It caught Toya off guard, but she hugged her back.

  “Thank you, Miss Toya,” Octavia said, her face nestled against Toya’s shoulder. “You made me appreciate my mother more.”

  Octavia pulled back and looked her mother’s friend in the eye. “She acts so strong sometimes and so tough. But I know she misses Granddad. She works hard, takes care of me all by herself, and she never gets any thanks for it. I was playing myself before. But I’m gonna stay on the right track this time. I’m gonna make her proud. And I’ll make you proud, too.”

  Toya was touched. “I’m already proud of you, sweetie. You did something that wasn’t easy. And you’re not the only one who’s done something like that, so don’t go beating yourself up about it.” Toya raised her hand as if acknowledging that she, too, had terminated an unwanted pregnancy before. Octavia seemed surprised. “Yeah,” Toya said. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s how you handle the mistake that matters. Is it a lesson learned or will you keep repeating it? I think you’ve learned your lesson, and I’m proud of you. So is your mother. Just remember to never run away from your problems. They always follow you.”