Hotlanta

by Mitzi Miller

  Lauren looked at her sister and then down at her hands. “Thinking about Marcus, huh?” she asked quietly.

  “I ain’t studying him,” Sydney snapped. “He deserves neither my time nor attention. Forget him.”

  Lauren knew her twin better than that, though. She chose her words carefully: “Look, Syd, I know you’re mad at him and how all of the stuff with him and Dara went down. I was a total bitch about it. I should have told you what was going on, but I need you to know that I didn’t know how far the thing with him and Dara had gone. All I knew is that he and Dara kissed once, but both of them swore to me that it was a mistake and it wasn’t a big deal. You and Marcus—”

  “Are through,” Sydney said, cutting Lauren off. “I don’t care if it was just a kiss, he shouldn’t have done it.”

  “And I should have known what was going on, for real, and let you know. I’m sorry about that, sis,” Lauren said.

  “You were definitely wrong for that,” Sydney said, looking into Lauren’s eyes. “I guess I just thought he and I would be together always. It’s funny how blind you become when that’s all that’s on your mind. I should have seen it. And I’m not so sure I would have taken kindly to your news if you did tell me about it, so don’t sweat it. It’s over.

  “Besides, that’s the least of our worries right about now,” she continued.

  “Tell me about it. Our stepdad may be the murdering black Al Pacino up in this piece,” Lauren said, shaking her head.

  Just as Sydney was about to respond, Keisha called down from the top of the stairs. Both girls jumped, startled by her voice and the sight of Altimus curled around her arm. “Come on, tell your mother how hot she looks,” Keisha said as Altimus led her down the long, winding staircase.

  “You look great,” Sydney practically mumbled, as Lauren threw a cheerleader fist in the air and whispered, “Hoorah.”

  “She does look stunning,” Altimus said, watching his wife walk toward the foyer. “Now I know why we’ve been together all this time—she knows how to keep a brother interested. Hmm, hmm, hmm,” he added.

  Sydney looked at her watch. “Well, we should be heading out, huh? The driver’s been here for about forty-five minutes.”

  “Honey, he’s getting paid enough money to sit his behind in that car for another two hours and not be the least bit mad about it, so don’t worry about him. Come on now, get your coats and let’s go,” Keisha said, clapping her hands to hurry the twins along. “Honey, did you call the photographer to let him know we’re on our way? I want him to snap us getting out of the limo when we get to The Sun Dial.”

  “It’s all done, dear, don’t worry. Let’s just get moving—I’m hungry.”

  Altimus ushered his three ladies into the limousine and then climbed in himself before the driver shut the door. The limo had hardly started moving before he reached for the bottles in the bar. The limousine company had been instructed to have all the ingredients Altimus needed for his signature drink—the Rusty Nail—and they made good on it, stocking the bar with extra-large bottles of Glenlivet and Drambuie for Altimus’s drinking pleasure. Keisha was too busy looking in her mirror and fiddling with the music to pay him much mind, but the girls both watched him, both of them wondering if their stepfather did, indeed, have blood on his hands.

  “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we, Keisha,” Altimus said after his first round settled into his stomach.

  “Yes, baby, we sure have,” she said, patting his knee. “Most of it good, huh?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said, taking a sip from his second drink. Lauren wondered how many he could put away before their fifteen-minute trip to The Sun Dial came to an end. She looked at Sydney, who, by then, was staring out of the window and fiddling with her earlobe. Altimus kept talking. “I’d say ninety-nine percent of it has been good, you know? That’s because we know what family means, and honor and respect the bonds that hold it together. You guys are blessed—you know that, right? We all are.”

  “That’s right, baby.” Keisha smiled.

  “We’re blessed because we love each other, and protect one another, and stick together, no matter what,” Altimus continued slowly before taking another sip.

  “You better tell it,” Keisha said.

  Lauren and Sydney exchanged glances and wondered if Altimus’s sauce sermon was a cryptic confession. They both came to the same conclusion: He was creeping them out. And Keisha? Oblivous.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Altimus said suddenly.

  “For moi?” Keisha giggled, leaning in to kiss Altimus on the cheek. “I’m so excited!”

  “Oh, I got plenty for you later,” Altimus said, turning to kiss Keisha full on the lips. Both girls grimaced. “I meant I have a surprise for our daughters,” Altimus clarified.

  Sydney seemed unimpressed, but Lauren, ever giddy over presents no matter what the situation, had to restrain herself from clapping. “A surprise?” she said, after which Sydney elbowed her in the side. “What?” she said.

  “Stop acting like you’ve never gotten anything before,” Sydney chastised, giving her the eye for good measure.

  “Oh, you’re going to love it, Pumpkins,” Altimus continued. “The question is, should I give you the surprise now, or should I wait until after the festivities?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’ll be quite busy after the festivities,” Keisha cooed.

  “True,” Altimus said as he reached into his tuxedo breast pocket. He pulled out a Tiffany box and handed it to Lauren, knowing that the sight of the trademark blue would make his daughter lose her mind.

  “There’s only one box?” Lauren asked as she tore into the ribbon on the box and flipped the top open. Inside were two horseshoe-shaped pieces of silver. “Um, it’s uh, cute,” Lauren said, holding one up between her fingers. “What is it?”

  “Yes, there is only one box—I didn’t want to mess up my lines with two,” Altimus laughed. “They’re key rings.”

  “Lovely,” Sydney said, uninspired, barely reaching for the ring that Lauren was dangling in her face.

  “How, um, nice—a key ring,” Lauren said, unable to hide her disappointment over not getting the set of stackable gold rings she’d been eyeing for no less than four months. She wasn’t about to buy them herself; she firmly believed that jewelry was meant to be received, not purchased.

  “Oh, but why don’t you ask me why I’m giving you both key rings,” Altimus urged.

  “Why?” Lauren insisted, getting back a little bit of her excitement.

  “Should I tell ‘em babe?” Altimus asked Keisha.

  “Oh, go on ahead and tell them, already,” she said. “We’re almost at The Sun Dial.”

  “Okay, okay,” Altimus said as he reached into his pants pocket. “I got you key rings because you’ll need them for these,” he said, producing two identical shiny keys in his hand.

  Both Sydney and Lauren frowned. What the…

  “These are the keys to your new condo,” Altimus said simply. He settled back in his seat and let the hysteria commence.

  “Our new condo? We have a condo?” Sydney screeched, grabbing onto Lauren as she snatched the keys out of Altimus’s hands. “Our own place?”

  “Well, it’s in both of your names, so it is officially your place,” he said, smiling.

  “Don’t get it confused, girls, you won’t be living in the condo tomorrow, throwing wild parties and acting like you don’t have any parents to speak of,” Keisha warned. “We’re hiring a management firm to lease it for the next year or so until you two are ready to go off to college, and then when you’re about to graduate, we’ll upgrade your new place and then you can move in.”

  “Ohmigod,” Lauren shouted. “Yes!”

  Sydney was a little bit more reserved, but not much. “Thank you, Altimus, this is one heck of a surprise! I can’t believe you bought us our own place; this is incredible.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Altimus said as the limo pulled up in front of the restaurant.
“Anything for my daughters. This is about keeping the wealth in the family. You all can live in it, or rent it out for income while you go to college, and then have a place for yourselves when you get your degrees and come back to Atlanta to help your old man with the business.”

  Lauren and Sydney looked at each other, their twin intuition letting them know that they were thinking the same thing: Since when were they Altimus’s recruits for running the dealership business? And who said they’d be living in Atlanta forever?

  Keisha checked her makeup in her handheld mirror one more time and told her girls to do the same. When they were ready, the driver rushed around to the back of the limo and opened the door for them. As Lauren stepped out of the long black car, a photographer clicked away. It felt, she thought, like the red carpet treatment; she couldn’t help but grin as tourists and fellow Atlantans alike stopped and stared at the power family as it strutted into the building and was escorted into one of the glass elevators, which whisked the Dukes more than 700 feet above the city and opened into a wonderland of red roses and sparkling candlelight. As the photographer continued to snap pictures, the entire restaurant broke out into applause, with many of the guests—a veritable who’s who of Atlanta’s black elite—hoisting their elegant glasses of champagne into the air in Keisha and Altimus’s honor.

  Sydney clapped politely as Lauren waved and struck her poses, soaking in the attention and, no doubt, making sure her light was right in every frame of the photographer’s film. After an ovation worthy of a Prince concert, Keisha finally waved the photographer away, and, within seconds, the elder Dukes were swallowed into a crowd of congratulatory hugs and well-wishes.

  Sydney peered around the room and took in the faces; for just a moment, her eyes searched for Marcus and his mother. And then, deflated, all of it came rushing back to her: There was no more Marcus. For the first time since, like, forever, Sydney Duke was making a very public appearance without her finest accessory on her arm. Well, without being Marcus’s accessory. She was keenly aware of that difference.

  Lauren caught a glimpse of her sister and hung her head. She fingered the horseshoe key ring in her hand and looked at her twin. Their eyes locked. “Let’s go sit down,” Lauren mouthed as she grabbed two glasses of ice water from the bar.

  It didn’t take long for the girls to spot their table—Keisha made sure of that. Sprays of fine roses dripped from the sparkling table, which was decked out with a mountain of candles, crystal champagne flutes, several bottles of fine champagne and wine icing in two gold wine chillers, and special gold-rimmed place settings Keisha made the staff at The Sun Dial purchase exclusively for her party. The sight of it made Sydney just shake her head, continue past the extravagantly decorated table, and head toward the window. Lauren followed.

  “Look, Syd, it’s going to be okay,” Lauren said, rubbing her sister’s back as the two of them stared down over the breathtaking 360-degree view of Atlanta. Lauren had always loved coming to The Sun Dial; as touristy as the restaurant had become, it was still quite an exhilarating feeling to stand next to the window as the tower slowly circled the panorama of the city’s skyline, watching as Atlanta passed by. When she was a little younger, Lauren would call out the names of all the landmarks she could recognize, always starting with Centennial Olympic Park and the CNN Center, and working her way over to The World of Coca Cola, the Georgia Dome, and Turner Field, and always ending with Stone Mountain, which seemed like it was so far away, it couldn’t possibly be a part of Georgia—the Dukes’ Georgia.

  “How is it going to be okay, Lauren?” Sydney asked as she ran her fingers over the window. “The last few days have been absolutely surreal. I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore, if I even am who I thought I was—if any of this is what we ever thought it was. How do we make sense of all of this?”

  “You got me on that one,” Lauren whispered. “One minute we’re thinking Altimus is an overprotective killer, the next he’s buying us luxury condos and stuff. I mean, what can we do? How do we figure out the truth?”

  Just then, Lauren stopped looking at the Atlanta skyline and focused instead on the reflection in the glass, which revealed a dark figure approaching them. Sydney grabbed Lauren’s hand to signal her to stop talking; both flinched when Altimus wrapped his arms around the sisters.

  “The prettiest girls in the room,” he said, squeezing the two. “I have to be the luckiest father in the world.”

  “And you know this,” Lauren said, shaking her weave.

  “I love you two as if my blood runs through your veins, you know that, right?” Altimus asked. “That’s why I work so hard. That’s what real fathers do. They set up a future for their families and their families’ families, so that everyone can eat and be comfortable and enjoy life. I do what I do because you are my hearts. And I need you both to know that I’m going to always take care of you and your mother, by any means necessary,” he added quietly.

  Sydney and Lauren looked at each other’s eyes in the reflection.

  And Hotlanta swirled at their feet.

  Acknowledgments

  DENENE

  For God, who keeps opening windows for me when it seems all doors are closed—without His grace, I am surely nothing. For my husband and darling daughters, Mari and Lila, and my son, Mazi: It is for you that I do what I do—thank you for your constant encouragement, support, and love, which makes each of my words tumble easily to the page, even the stubborn ones. With you all and Teddy by my side, all things are possible. For my parents, Bettye and James Millner, and my brother, Troy Millner: Thank you for loving me hard and strong—you all helped mold me into the woman I am today. For Angelou, James, Miles, Cole, and my in-laws, Migozo and Chikuyu: Thank you for helping Nick and I find our way and providing us with the family structure and friendship that has surely added 20 years onto each of our lives. For my fabulous niece, Imani, and all her sister-friends: Thank you for the Georgia Peach prototypes; your insight into The A helped us find what we think are authentic ATL voices. For Victoria Sanders, my agent extraordinaire: Thank you for keeping me working and constantly challenged—you truly are my Dreamgirl! For our fabulous editor, Abby: Thank you for the deft touch, the deep understanding of all things cool as hell, and especially the laughter—it truly was a joy to work with you. For Andrea Davis Pinkney: You have been a constant source of inspiration for this writer—a mentor when you didn’t even know it. Thank you for showing me the way.

  And for Mitzi, who keeps me young, fresh, and fly: You are a true star who deserves her own spotlight and theme song, fo sho. Thanks for being my partner.

  And finally, thank you to the great state of Georgia, for welcoming my family with open arms and helping us find peace…there’s no place like home.

  MITZI

  As always, I begin by dedicating this book to God, Yemaya, all the orisha and guides who have helped me safely arrive at this point in life. Every day offers a new opportunity. Thank you for continuing to open the doors.

  Mommie, achieving greatness often requires large leaps of faith. Thank you for always being there on the other side.

  Melissa, being your older sister is the hardest job I’ve ever wanted. Thank you for your patience.

  Daddy, the most powerful statements are often unspoken. In case I don’t say it enough, I love you.

  Roy, loyalty is a priceless trait. You are the bestest cousin ever!

  Mommy Sally, words can’t express how grateful I am to you and your loving family for accepting me as one of the fold.

  To the rest of my relatives—thank you for your love and support.

  Joan, you are the fabulous big sister/mentor I’ve been searching for all these years. I’m so glad I got you in the divorce.

  Rhea, sometimes it takes a lifetime to get to know certain people. And then there are others with whom it seems you’ve already shared a lifetime. I’m so glad you’re my girl.

  Mali, Carmen, Shayla, Toya, Lisa, Daina, Kenya H., Carla, Dara, Karina, Geof
f, Betina, Nicole W., Jen K., and all the rest of my fabulous friends: thanks for the love, support, and inspiration.

  Denene, it is such a pleasure working with such a dynamic writer. Thanks for staying focused, making me laugh out loud, and always keeping it moving.

  Andrea, Abby, and the entire Scholastic team, thank you for making my Hotlanta dreams a reality. From start to finish you guys have been nothing short of phenomenal.

  Victoria, thank you for your continual professionalism throughout the project.

  Drama, you may not be able to read (or bark), but I know you understand every single word I say. Just think, every day we’re a little closer to a big backyard just for you!

  And a special shout out to Satonja, my ride or die homie since FAMU. Thank you so much for answering all my late-night pleas for direction (literally). You are truly one of the great ones!

  Also by Denene Millner and Mitzi Miller

  (with Angela Burt-Murray)

  The Angry Black Woman’s Guide to Life

  The Vow

  Also by Denene Millner

  The Sistahs’ Rules:

  Secrets for Meeting, Getting, and

  Keeping a Good Black Man

  Dreamgirls

  Also by Denene Millner

  (with Nick Chiles)

  What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know

  What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know about Sex:

  The Real Deal on Passion, Loving, and Intimacy

  Money, Power, Respect:

  What Brothers Think, What Sistahs Know

  Love Don’t Live Here Anymore

  In Love & War

  A Love Story

  Credits

  The editors would also like to thank the following for their contribution to the cover image: