The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  “…she’s got a lovely life.” Daphne’s voice sounded muted as she whipped the sheets off the bed.

  “And you want that life.” Babydoll selected new earrings. Her eyes were downcast, but she looked up in time to spot her daughter whirl around to gape at her through the mirror.

  “I didn’t say that.” Daphne resumed the bed changing. Secrecy was an ally she’d acquired at a young age. She didn’t want anyone- her mother especially- knowing of any honorable aspirations. The two just wouldn’t mix. She certainly didn’t need the woman knowing of any aspirations that may or may not have involved the Ramseys.

  It was too late for that now. Daphne knew it was when Babydoll looked up at her again through the mirror.

  “If you want that life, you’ll have to have that name.” Babydoll smoothed a scented lotion across and under her ample bosom. “That means having one of those sons.”

  “Really Ma?” Daphne hoped her mother heard the haughtiness in her voice.

  Babydoll took no offence. “Just how do you expect to get one of them with your reputation?”

  “I don’t have a reputation, Ma.”

  “Oh honey!” Babydoll laughed for a while, “You’re Babydoll Monfrey’s little girl. You had a rep before you could walk!”

  Daphne rolled her eyes and went back to making the bed. “Can’t you just let me have one thing?”

  Babydoll left her vanity seat. “Lil’ girl, having- getting a Ramsey won’t be simple as batting lashes, speakin’ soft and remembering what fork to use at the dinner table.” She held her robe together and leaned across the unmade bed. “It’ll take a lot more than that- a lot more.” Her plump lovely face brightened when Daphne looked toward the bed. “Mmm hmm.”

  “I don’t want a man that way.” Daphne threw sheets to the bed.

  “And if you wanted any man besides a Ramsey, I’d say ‘good for you’, but you can best believe them lil’ stank actin’ society bitches at that cotillion are battin’ lashes, speakin’ soft and probably fuckin’ their way straight to the Ramsey name. If you think holdin’ out on a Ramsey will get you one- think again.”

  Daphne felt the stiffness in her back ease as her mother’s words took root. Her house shoes slapped the floor as she strolled to the window overlooking the sweet innocent looking back lawn of Babydoll’s Brothel- her own personal name for her home. She suspected, it was known by that name to a great many betrayed wives and girlfriends.

  She wanted out- away from the stink of the place camouflaged by the best French perfumes. She knew that the stink of the place and the rep of the woman who bore her would always be a chain she’d have to bear. But, oh how easy it’d be to cover that chain by draping it in furs and jewels, from her Ramsey husband.

  In spite of a sweet tea party with Marcella Ramsey she suspected the woman would have a fit if one of her sons brought home a girl like her with intentions to marry. She looked to her mother then. Babydoll Monfrey knew what it took to get a man, keep him and keep him coming back for more.

  Daphne knew the answer was sex. How to wield it, though? How to wield it into the tool of power the way Babydoll had…she needed that knowledge. She craved that almost as much as she craved the last name Ramsey and all the lavish beauty and grace the name carried.

  R

  ~CHAPTER FIVE~

  The low sound in Damon Ramsey’s throat signaled frustration; when his confident stride brought him within sight of the library. He saw that his sister wasn’t waiting there as they’d agreed.

  The low sound in his throat was soon accompanied by muttered words of aggravation. The last thing he wanted was to step inside the building and have to play social butterfly to friends, associates and a slew of ‘hopeful’ girlfriends.

  The frustration and aggravation; for that matter, began to wane when the library’s front door opened and Catrina Jeffries emerged. She hurried down the wide steps that seemed to line the entire front side of the majestic white building.

  ~~~

  Deep set eyes narrowed and Damon leaned against a tree trunk sheltered by the generous moss dangling around it. Catrina was almost frantically trying to stuff papers into a book. She kept glancing back at the big clock above the library entrance. The smirk curving his mouth then sparked one of his dimples. He wondered what chore she was late for at Jeffries Catering.

  He thought back to the cotillion; faintly grimacing at whomever invented such a phenomenal waste of time in his opinion. Still, the thing had been worth attending just for a chance to meet her. He bowed his head then focusing on his sneakers one crossed over the other and wondered why he’d been so caught up over her. There’d been tons of girls traipsing around his family’s home that day.

  Catrina Jeffries was a looker no doubt- tall, almond brown skin, clearly athletic though that look probably came from lifting tubs of fish and chicken grease. He smiled. Even still, many of the girls at the party were pretty too- what was it about this one?

  Had he developed a sudden liking to grease splattered clothes and haphazard ponytails? He must’ve. The way she looked at him that day…his heart had gone right to the soles of his Converse and she had him. He could barely recall his own name when she’d asked him.

  He sighed then, blanking out the memory. He’d given her his first name only on purpose. She liked him that was clear. She liked him and she didn’t even know he was a Ramsey. Course that never made a difference before. Girls had always been attracted, though they grew a tad giddier when they discovered who he was.

  He didn’t tell her because he feared she’d morph into some Ramsey-crazed scream box. Instead, it was the easiness of just being a boy meeting a girl and striking up a friendship. There was none of the usual drama- more accurately- the usual crap that came into play when the Ramsey heirs set their sights on a girl. Is it serious? Will they marry? Who’s her family? Those were but a few of the blizzard-like barrage of questions sure to mount in due time.

  Damon didn’t know what future- if any- was in store for he and this girl he couldn’t look away from or stop thinking of even after she was gone from his sight for several hours. He did know that he planned to enjoy a longer time as an ordinary boy striking up a friendship with an ordinary girl.

  And if she asked his last name? Heavy brows rose as he quickly chose the answer. Why he’d do what so many Ramseys did best. He’d lie.

  ~~~

  Catrina cast one last look at the clock and gave up stuffing the last book into her bag. She was ten minutes outside of being late and; even though her mother’s bark was often worse than its bite, she didn’t want to suffer Rosa Jeffries barking unless she really had to.

  Catrina raced down the last of the steps and was on her way to the restaurant when she heard him asking if she needed help. Seeing Damon, everything she held fell to the sidewalk.

  ‘No’ she cleared her throat with noticeable effort upon realizing that the word hadn’t even carried on her voice. “No.” She managed after clearing her throat a second time.

  Damon however, had already knelt to collect her things. Catrina knew what a sight she made standing there staring down at the boy’s head, but she couldn’t help it. His hair was cut close and black as his eyes but amass with waves. She wondered if they were natural or processed. She was banking on natural and her fingers ached to test her accuracy.

  Damon lifted his head- his eyes took a slow journey along the length of Catrina’s legs bared by the cutoffs she wore with a polka dot halter. Grinding on his jaw then, he commanded his hormones and thoughts to cool before he stood to hand her the bag.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, liking the way his solid black T-shirt and jeans complimented his body.

  Damon nodded toward the bag. “Lot of books there for summer reading.”

  Catrina Marie…she called silently to herself in the manner her mother would. She commanded herself to pull out of the hypnotic spell this boy cast by doing little more than speaking.

  “I um, it’s just for fun.”

 
He smirked and her mahogany gaze was drawn to his right dimple when it flashed.

  “Fun?” Damon reached for the book she’d managed to hold onto when the others had fallen. “Entrepreneurial Enterprise Made Simple. Fun.” He passed the book back to her.

  Catrina immediately launched an explanation of helping her dad’s business run more efficiently.

  As he listened, Damon was infatuated by every physical attribute the girl possessed. Then he added something more. The girl had a brain- one obsessed with business at that. His obsidian stare raked her with renewed interest then.

  Catrina stopped herself short, realizing she’d once again let her tongue run away with her as it often did when the subject of business was in the air. She had so little time or opportunity to discuss the subject at home. Her dad wasn’t as yet taking all her economic suggestions seriously. As a result, she’d taken to sharing her insights with anyone who would listen- including her fellow fish grease dumpers.

  She made a point however, of catching herself before she bored a boy with it. She wasn’t sure what to make of the look Damon was giving her then. She wasn’t about to question it though.

  “I have to get home.” She cast another look toward the clock without really seeing it. “Thanks for your help.” She sprinted off.

  Catrina was turning the block when Damon found his voice and told her she was welcome.

  ***

  “Jas!” Felix called before the boy headed into Sybil’s Seams. “What’s up, man?”

  Jasper grinned, hearing the teasing tone in his brother’s voice with regards to him headed into the local seamstress shop. “Mama sent me to pick up our laundry and stuff.”

  Playfully, Felix waved off the explanation.

  “She ain’t been wantin’ to be seen much in public since the Ramsey thing.”

  Felix nodded, losing his taste for teasing. “Sorry man.”

  “Don’t be.” It was Jasper’s turn to wave off Felix’s words. “Nothin’s gonna change. It shouldn’t change. My mama shoulda never slept with your pop.”

  “Our Pop,” Felix scratched the back of his head. “If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have a brother.”

  “That’s enough mushy stuff.” Jasper drawled when they drew out of a hug. “I gotta get home ‘fore Ma starts worrying ‘bout her laundry.” He made the joke while eyeing the wad of dollar bills he carried.

  “You got enough, man?” Felix read through the slow nod. “You and Miss Belle okay for money, Jas?”

  “Yeah, yeah we’re good big spender!” Jasper laughed.

  “Not a big spender, just a concerned brother.” Felix folded arms across his gray shirt and shrugged. “Workin’ at the factory with Pop. I can spare a little if you need it.”

  “We’re alright, man. Plus I added four more lawns to my list of jobs- it’s goin’ good.”

  “Does he give y’all anything?” Felix stepped closer. “Pop? Does he help out any?”

  “He used to.” Jasper kept his eyes downcast. “I overheard him tellin’ Ma. Miss Harry’s keepin’ a close eye on the dollars so…”

  Felix accepted that as truth yet silently noted that his mother keeping a close eye on the money hadn’t stopped Joe Cade’s daily stops to Gordon’s Liquor and Smokes for his favorite brew and cigars.

  “You tell your Mama to keep askin’ about the money.”

  Jasper was about to smile at Felix’s advice but the gesture froze on his mouth mid-stream. “You better get goin’” He was looking off into the distance.

  “Felix! Felix?! Boy get away from that filth!”

  Harriet Cade’s enraged voice carried clearly along the street and succeeded in drawing onlookers in a matter of seconds. Even folks inside Sybil’s Seams either pressed their faces to the window or stepped outside the shop to view the budding scene.

  “Ma-”

  “Hush Felix!” Harriett was too far gone to be calmed. Though Joe Cade was known for his dalliances, having to see proof of the man’s infidelity was just too much. Especially when that proof bore such a striking resemblance to her own son.

  “See ya, Felix.” Admirably in control of his temper, Jasper would’ve walked away had it not been for Harriett calling to him.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, filth!” Harriett turned to Felix once she had Jasper’s attention. “What were y’all talkin’ about? Lemme guess, that tramp, that trick?!” She turned back to Jasper. “That whore sendin’ her bastard out to pass messages to my son to give to his sorry excuse for a daddy?”

  “Ma please,” Felix tried to embrace his mother only to be pushed away.

  Harriett tucked her glossy black purse beneath her arm and went to wave a gloved fist before Jasper’s face.

  “You ain’t nothin’, ‘cause your Mama ain’t nothin’.” She smiled nastily, seeing the boy’s gaze flicker as her words cut deep. “Mmm hmm, used to be one of

  Babydoll’s girls before she decided she could make more cash on her back fuckin’ other women’s husbands and holdin’ onto everything she made instead of sharin’.”

  Sybil Deas left her shop then, having caught wind of what was happening just past her door. She caught Harriett’s shaking shoulders and tried to turn her toward the shop’s steps.

  “You keep away from my son! My legitimate son! You and your stank ass Mama!”

  “Harriett! That’s enough!” Sybil jerked the woman into silence and forcibly turned her toward the steps. She turned a soft motherly smile toward Jasper. “You go on home, baby. I’ll send your things by delivery and you keep your money in your pocket. There’s no charge.”

  An enraged Harriett Cade was shown inside the shop. Felix tried to catch up to Jasper but the boy was running down the street like he was trying to outrun the devil.

  Jasper took refuge down the end of a block. He ducked down an alley, stood leaning against a brick wall and tried to catch his breath. He wanted to scream, but dared not call any more attention to himself than he already had. He clenched fists, slamming them against the bricks and then clenching them even more tightly.

  He winced, feeling his short nails piercing his palms. He savored the agony for minutes it seemed, then uncurled his hands and stared fixedly at the blood oozing from the cuts. In an almost awed fashion, he touched a finger to the blood; rubbing it between his thumb and index finger as though trying to solve the mystery of it.

  ***

  “Why not in the corporate division, managing accounts, bringing in new deals for Ramsey?”

  Quentin massaged his nose and managed a smile while inwardly trying to keep a strangle hold on his temper. “Age and experience are a part of this too, you know?” He tried to make light reference to the fact in a teasing style.

  Marcus didn’t get the joke. “Pop I haven’t been a youth in years.”

  Quentin’s expression sharpened toward Marc sitting across his desk. He wondered if the child had ever experienced the innocence of youth. The boy seemed to have come from the womb with an agenda. “Son understand this: no one, not even my head V.P.s started at the top. Everyone has to earn their way from the ground up. Everyone.”

  “You didn’t.” Marcus sneered.

  Quentin almost laughed. “I started the company.”

  “Company’ll be mine one day.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Very.”

  “Then you shouldn’t mind relaxing in the youth division ‘til that day arrives.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Effectively bested and not liking it one bit, Marc pounded a fist to his father’s neat pine desk. “The youth division is small potatoes. I’ll be done with college soon and what good is a fuckin’ degree with no experience.”

  Quent’s entire body stiffened. “You’re goin’ too far, boy.”

  “Screw it! I’ll tell you what good that degree is- about as good as a condom without a hard dick inside it!”

  Quent stood so suddenly, the heavy desk chair he’d occupied teetered back on the verge of crashing to the floor.<
br />
  “Damn it to hell I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried and now I’m done with it.”

  The soft, dangerous undercurrent in his father’s tone, gave Marc pause for the first time.

  “I swear if it weren’t for your mother-”

  “Mama’s the only one who-!” Marcus stopped himself and backed away when Quentin shoved aside the chair and stormed around the desk.

  “You get the hell out of my sight.” The man practically growled, no love then only despise for the boy in his presence. “You get the hell out of here or that chair of mine that you want so badly will be up your ass.”

  Angry tears sprouted in Marc’s dark eyes but he refused to let them fall. Bolting across the room, he threw open the cracked door which thundered when it slammed at the wall. Marc left the office seeing blood and never spotting Damon who waited in the hallway.

  ***

  Carmen finished a final entry to her diary before setting the lock and returning the velvet bound book to its tin box. She placed the small box beneath a stone that rested at the base of the tree she leaned against.

  Something popped or snapped in the distance and she turned in the direction of the sound. She glanced back at the stone and debated. The last thing she needed was for anyone to find and read her most private thoughts…desires. She shook her head then, warding off unseemly images filling her mind.

  Deciding the book was safe; she pushed up and began her trek towards home. There was but the lightest nip in the air and she prayed summer wouldn’t end too soon. The warmth made her feel alive, free and safe. The chill and eventual cold of winter kept her thoughts focused too closely on the always present air of eerie uncertainty lurking amidst her home and family.

  As if on cue, the pop and snap sound broke through the more engaging sounds of nature and gave Carmen pause. Veering off the path toward home, she chose to investigate. She pressed her lips together and kept a grip on her fears then for sure.

  Eerie uncertainty was almost tangible surrounding the area she headed towards. Since before her parents (and quite possibly their parents) had existed, all Ramseys were buried on the family property. Much of that was due to the fact that blacks and whites didn’t share the same burial lands. Some long ago white Ramsey ancestor believed having the family take their eternal sleep together would ensure its strength in the afterlife. Carmen twisted her lips as if finding humor in that opinion- as if strength in the afterlife was necessary or even realistic. At least humor gave her the courage to continue her steps toward the burial area where she’d heard the weird sounds.