No Loyalty

by De'nesha Diamond

  “What the fuck?” She glanced around and tried to make out what was all over the floor. “Water,” she concluded, shaking her head. Javid must have tracked it all through the house after he came back from checking the generator. He could get Ruthie to clean it. I’m not the damn maid in this bitch.

  She marched on to the bedroom where she’d been staying since Lieutenant Armstrong had brought her to this palatial estate. She stopped before her bedroom window, where a sliver of moonlight sliced through the storm clouds and reflected her image back onto the glass. It also revealed a woman standing behind her.

  Before Nichelle could spin around, Klaudya snatched her by the back of the head and slammed her face into the edge of the window’s pane. Nichelle even heard the sickening crunch before she was pitched into total darkness.

  CHAPTER 9

  Two days after Javid Ramsey’s funeral, Armstrong and Schneider arrived at the Ramseys’ estate surprised to see three moving trucks in the driveway. It was awkward ringing the doorbell when the door was wide open, but Armstrong did it anyway.

  “Lieutenant Armstrong,” Klaudya greeted, sounding like she’d spent the morning sucking on a lemon.

  “Ms. Ramsey.” He tilted his head. “Moving?”

  “Very observant. I bet it’s that kind of detective work that makes you a shining star down at the department.”

  Schneider snickered until Armstrong’s sharp look cut him off.

  “Mind if we come in and ask you a few questions?”

  She sighed. “Sure. Why not?” She turned and led them through a half-empty house to the backyard, where she offered them a seat on the patio furniture. “So what do you want to know? How much you ruined my family’s life after you brought my poisonous mother here?”

  Armstrong blinked.

  “What? You think I don’t blame you? Well, I do.” Klaudya crossed her arms. “And I blame Javid, too. I warned him . . .”

  2014

  After Armstrong’s surprise visit, Javid rushed upstairs to the master bedroom and found Klaudya at the window, staring across their vast backyard. “Baby? Are you all right?”

  She remained silent.

  “Klaudya?” He crept behind her. When she still refused to respond, he placed his hands on her shoulders. The moment he touched her, she bunched her shoulders and stepped away.

  Javid dropped his arms. “C’mon, baby. Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  “There was a cop in the kitchen, telling me your mother rose from the dead and needs your help.”

  Klaudya sighed. “That big-mouth muthafucka.”

  Javid sighed. “Baby. Language.”

  “Give me a fuckin’ break. The kids aren’t in here.” She stormed away from him and the window.

  Cautious, Javid watched her. He’d gotten used to her performance as the perfect trophy wife and was caught off guard when her street side cropped up every once in a while. “Okay. How about we tackle one thing at a time?” He watched her remove a joint from the bottom of her jewelry box. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? The kids.”

  “Fuck you, Javid. I need this.”

  He folded his arms while she lit the joint. Even after a couple of puffs, Klaudya remained coiled as tight as a cobra, ready to strike.

  “This fucking weak-ass bougie shit,” she said, disgusted. “I should fuck up that kid for even calling this shit weed.”

  “Are you finished?”

  She cut him a nasty look.

  “Why did you tell me your mother was dead?”

  “Because she is dead . . . to me. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

  “Okay. So you two don’t get along. When was the last time you two talked?”

  She laughed. “A long fucking time ago. And I prefer to keep it that way.”

  Javid hung his head and scratched the back of his neck. “Honey. You can’t mean that. We can choose a lot of things in this world, but family isn’t one of them. Family is the most important thing in this life.”

  “Oh, gawd.” She rolled her eyes. “If that was true, why aren’t you and your parents talking? Oh, that’s right, they weren’t too happy about you dumping the blond princess they’d picked out for you to marry my black, stripping ass from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “We’re not talking about my family.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Your mother hurt you. That much is clear,” Javid concluded, crossing the room toward her again.

  Klaudya shook her head. “Drop it.”

  “How can I drop it? Look at you. You’re a wreck. A cop shows up at the door, telling us your mother is homeless and needs help, and you’re in here puffing like a chimney. All I’m saying is whatever is between the two of you, maybe it’s time for you two to squash it and bury the hatchet.”

  Klaudya blocked out her husband’s words.

  “You do this every time I ask you about your past. Why? We’ve been together for nine years. How much longer will it take for you to trust me?”

  “Trust?” She laughed.

  “Yes. Trust. The thing marriages are built on.”

  Silence.

  “I trust you—with my life.” Javid wrapped his arms around Klaudya’s hips and pulled her flush against him. “Look. I don’t know what happened, but I do know there’s nothing that can’t be forgiven. Families are supposed to love each other no matter what. And if my father ever answers the phone when I call, I’d tell him, too.”

  Klaudya lowered her head and expelled another stream of ganja.

  “C’mon, baby.” Javid lifted her chin, and she blew smoke in his face. He turned away, coughing.

  “Sorry.”

  He waved the smoke away and gave her a stern look. “Stop being stubborn . . . and selfish.”

  “Selfish?”

  “Yeah, are you forgetting about Mya and Mykell? They have a new grandmother. They’d love to get to know her.”

  “Hardly.” She laughed. “My mother is . . . trouble. With a capital T. Wherever she is, she’s better off there. We’re better off.”

  Javid opened his mouth, but Klaudya quickly placed a silencing finger against his lips.

  “I get how important family is to you,” she said. “I do. It’s one of the things I love about you, but believe me, you don’t want my mother around our kids.”

  “Why?”

  Klaudya sighed, knowing there was no way out of this conversation. “I don’t like talking about my past because I went through some horrible things. I’m talking about the kind of shit kids never get over.”

  He frowned.

  “Did that motor-mouth cop tell you my mother spent twenty years in prison?”

  The lines in Javid’s face deepened. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. He dumped that shit on my lap to tell you.” She took two more puffs.

  “What did she go to prison for?”

  “Murder.”

  “What?”

  “Two counts.”

  “You’re shitting me.” He looked distressed.

  “Nope.”

  “Holy shit.” Javid raked his hands through his hair.

  “Fuck! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I never planned on seeing her again. Not now, not ever.”

  He shook his head. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

  Klaudya’s gaze narrowed. “Why? What did you do?”

  “I told the lieutenant we would help her.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I didn’t know she was a murderer! That’s usually something you would tell a person.”

  “Wait. So, you’re going to put this all on me?”

  “It’s not my fault,” he thundered. “I thought you two were fighting over some trivial mother-and-daughter bullshit. How was I to know your mother was a fucking killer?”

  “What? You thought they climbed out from under rock? They have families, too. The ones they manage not to kill,” she amended.

  “What are
we going to do? Already told the kids about her. Lieutenant Armstrong is on his way to get and bring her here.”

  “What? Well, go call him and tell him she can’t come.”

  Javid stared “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “He didn’t leave a number.” He rushed toward the phone by the bed. “I’ll call the local precinct and get in touch with him there.”

  “You better. Because if that asshole brings Nichelle here, we’ll never get rid of her.”

  Klaudya crossed her arms and smirked at Armstrong. “But of course, we couldn’t get in touch with you in time, and you did bring her here. “Lucky us.”

  Lieutenant Armstrong squirmed in his chair. “I was simply. . .”

  “What?” she challenged.

  “I was simply trying to help.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m sure you remember the day you brought her here . . .”

  Nichelle spun around the vestibule trying to take in the whole place. “Holy shit, Klaudya. What muthafuckin’ bank did you rob to land a crib like this?”

  Still holding the door, Klaudya stood in shock as her brain processed who’d entered her home.

  Nichelle stopped spinning and set down her bags. “Well? Are you going to stand there or are you going to give your momma a hug?”

  Klaudya inched toward her mother like a zombie while shooting invisible daggers at Lieutenant Armstrong, who entered the house last.

  Nichelle snatched her daughter into her arms and damn near squeezed the life out of her. “Oh. My big baby. Let me get a good look at you.” She thrust her back at arm’s length and studied her. “I always knew you’d be a stunner. Look at you.” Her gaze raked every inch of her daughter, but instead of pride, jealousy roared through her veins. Suddenly, Nichelle’s carefully selected Salvation Army outfit was rough and itchy against her skin and the two inches of the new growth beneath her six-month-old perm itched. “Beautiful.” She released her daughter and hid her raggedy fingernails behind her back.

  Klaudya stared at Nichelle, either at a loss for words or teeming with regret.

  Nichelle decided it was the latter and took it like a knife to the back. “So this explains why I haven’t heard from you,” she said tightly. “Ashamed of your jailbird mother, I take it?”

  “No, I, um . . .” Klaudya looked to the lieutenant for help and received none. “I didn’t know you were out. That’s all.”

  “How could you? It’s not like you kept in touch while I was locked down, right?” Nichelle held onto her smile even though it was tight as hell. Heavy footsteps pounded on the staircase, wrestling Nichelle’s attention away from her daughter. Immediately her stiff smile softened. “Now you must be the man of the house.” She stepped past her daughter and met him when he stopped on the bottom step. He wasn’t her preferred flavor of chocolate, but he was hot for a white boy. Tall, lean, with soft, curly black hair and inquisitive blue eyes. But best of all, he was young. At least Klaudya hadn’t sold her soul to suck on a pair of eighty-year-old balls to live in such luxury.

  “And you must be Nichelle Mathis,” he said, stretching out a hand. “I’m Javid Ramsey. Your son-in-law.”

  Nichelle gave his hand a cursory glance. “Now that’s no way to greet family.” She threw her arms around his neck and caught him off guard. Good. When she released him, she was all smiles. “Now that’s how you greet family.”

  Javid relaxed. “I see where Klaudya gets her beauty.”

  Nichelle smiled, but patted at her new growth and became self-conscious all over again.

  The husband and wife exchanged an odd look, and

  Nichelle guessed her time was limited.

  “Sooo,” she stalled. “I can’t wait to hear how you two met. Maybe over a cup of coffee or tea?”

  “Of course,” he answered instead of Klaudya. “Espresso?”

  “Fancy.”

  He chuckled and led the way to the kitchen.

  Klaudya watched her mother trail Javid to the kitchen and hung by the front door to singe Armstrong with an evil glare. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”

  Armstrong coughed after Klaudya recounted the story. “I see you’re remaining true to your word.”

  “Can you blame me?” she asked, folding her arms. “Look around. I have to start all over again.”

  Schneider cleared his throat. “If you didn’t want your mother here, why not tell her to leave?”

  “You think I didn’t try? After she fed Javid a self-defense story against my father, he warmed to her. And I knew that was even more trouble. So I caught myself taking her out to a nice lunch and laying down the law . . .”

  2014

  Nichelle, shining like a new penny to blend with the other bougie trophy wives of Calabasas, handed her menu back to the waiter and directed her attention to Klaudya. “What does your husband do for a living?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, whatever it is, he must be damn good at it.”

  “He is,” Klaudya said before thanking their server.

  Alone, Nichelle continued her interrogation. “So? What does he do?”

  “He’s part owner of Ramsey & Chase Financial. They do financial planning and shit.”

  “So . . . he manages other people’s money?” she clarified.

  “I’m impressed.”

  Klaudya sipped her lemon water.

  “And how did you two meet?”

  “Moomm.”

  “What? I can’t know how you two happened to cross paths?” Nichelle asked innocently.

  Klaudya nibbled on her bottom lip, but her mother waited her out. “We met at the Kitty Kat. I was a dancer.”

  “Kitty Kat?” Nichelle perked. “You were a stripper!”

  Klaudya rolled her eyes.

  “What? There’s nothing wrong with it. No need to be embarrassed.”

  “I didn’t say I was embarrassed.”

  “See? We do have something in common. I met your father when I was dancing at Nikki’s back in the day. Of course, back in the day, they never pulled the kind of clientele that could land a girl in the lap of luxury. You did good.” Nichelle lifted her glass for a toast.

  Klaudya left her hanging.

  “Ninety days, Mom,” Klaudya said, the moment the waiter arrived with their lunch. “That’s more than enough time for you to get back on your feet and find your own place.”

  “You’re still angry.” Nichelle stabbed a chunk of ham in her Cobb salad. “I wish we could work out our issues. When you were a kid, you used to send me a lot of disturbing drawings. I worried about you.”

  “I just bet you did.”

  “No, I did.” Nichelle lowered her voice. “Did you ever see someone? You know for a psych evaluation?”

  Klaudya’s knee bounced a mile a minute under the table. The idea was to bring her mother to a public place to avoid a full-on fight. Now she wasn’t sure it was going to work. She wanted to launch across the table and wrap her hands around her mother’s neck. “Look,” she snapped. “I didn’t want to give you the ninety days. Javid insisted after that brilliant performance at the house.” She clapped. “Bravo. Academy-Award-winning stuff. But let me be clear. I. Want. You. Gone.”

  “So angry.” Nichelle sighed. “You act like you don’t remember what it was like living with your father. His anger issues. The abuse.”

  “I remember the abuse went both ways,” Klaudya countered.

  “Oh, you suddenly got your memory back about what happened?”

  Klaudya thrust up her chin. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, of course not. You want the luxury of sitting there judging. Damn the truth, right?”

  Klaudya resented being hemmed into one of Nichelle’s new webs.

  “We should go to counseling.”

  Klaudya glared.

  “You know, work out our issues.”

  “The only issue I have is with you popping up in my life and refusing to leave.”

  “You’re being unfair.”
<
br />   “Am I?”

  “Yes. Now, why wouldn’t I want to have a relationship with my only daughter and my . . . grandchildren?”

  Klaudya snickered. “You can barely say the word.”

  “It’s an adjustment. Do I look like I could be a grandmother to you? I look as good as most of these young twenty-somethings running around here.” As she said the words, a gaggle of long-limbed teenagers sauntered by their table.

  Klaudya had a migraine. In fact, she had had one every day since her mother moved in. “I don’t know why you can’t get it through your head that I’m not interested in developing a deeper relationship with you. Our situation is what it is.” She snatched open her Hermès bag and rummaged around.

  “What are those?” Nichelle asked, watching Klaudya tossed back two pills. “You keep popping those like candy.”

  “I have a headache,” she said pointedly.

  Nichelle ignored the bait. “What happened to my sweet little girl? We used to be so close.”

  “And you can’t think of anything that might have changed that?”

  “You’ve allowed people to poison your mind against me. I’m not the bad guy here. And I don’t buy the amnesia act. I did what I did to protect you. And this is how you repay me?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Clearly, it helps you to sleep well at night.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I don’t deserve your anger or your hatred. If anything, I deserve your gratitude.”

  Klaudya tossed her head back with a loud, “Ha! Are you high?”

  “Keep digging that ditch, sweetheart. You may not remember that night, but I do, and I say that you can take your ninety days and shove it. I’m not going anywhere. Momma is here to stay.”

  Klaudya popped two more pills and washed them down with alcohol.

  CHAPTER 10

  Armstrong and Schneider returned to Arlington Chase for a second interview. At least this time, Ramsey’s larcenous partner had finally allowed himself the luxury of a shower and a shave. However, he still behaved like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.