by K'wan
Another one-sided argument.
Another open-ended conversation.
There was no way Keith would be able to go back to the office and focus on work after this. He was too wound up. The perfect remedy for what was ailing him was two hours in the gym, followed by a bottle of bourbon. Fuck the rest of the day! No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than his cell phone rang.
CHAPTER 3
Bernie’s lunch meeting with Keith hadn’t gone quite how she had expected it to. When she had originally suggested that they do lunch, it had been the first step of an attempt to convince him to have dinner with her family. Being around Bernie’s family wasn’t one of Keith’s favorite things to do, so it always took advanced preparation when she needed him to make an appearance: after a good meal, maybe some bomb sex, he was usually more agreeable about undertaking the task. Keith and the Hunts had never quite seen eye to eye, and this was especially true when it came to Keith and her father. In the halls of the firm, they were professionally courteous to each other, but socially they couldn’t be in the same room for very long without tensions mounting. You could see the fuse to the powder keg aflame, and the only thing that stopped the keg from blowing was their mutual love of Bernie.
It hadn’t always been that way between them, though. Theodore and Keith had never been friends to speak of, but each recognized the other for what he was, and that had created a quiet respect. Keith acknowledged that Theodore was the elder statesman and a legend in legal circles, and Theodore recognized that Keith was the promising young upstart who carried a chip on his shoulder every time he stepped into a courtroom. Keith had been brought into the firm by one of the other senior partners, Martin Gold. From the start, Theodore thought Keith was a bit on the cocky side, but he knew the first time he saw Keith litigate that the young lawyer was going to be special. He worked hard, showed up early, and never cut corners on his cases. Theodore had been happy that Keith landed at their firm up until the moment he discovered Keith was dating Bernie. That was when everything went to shit.
It wasn’t that Keith wasn’t a good man. He was educated, financially stable, and focused. He brought everything to the table that a father could want from a man who was courting his daughter—except the one thing that Theodore valued above everything else . . . pedigree. It was important to Theodore that his daughters married well, meaning that they took a name that was as prestigious as his own. This would strengthen their legacy through the generations. Keith didn’t have that. He was a product of the ghettos of New Orleans, and he had managed through hard work and the grace of God to claw his way to a promising life. It was an admirable story, but it didn’t make him good enough to marry one of the Hunt daughters.
Theodore was sure that Keith dating Bernie would eventually lead to problems at the firm, so he had been doing his utmost to encourage Keith to quit. Theodore had gone out of his way to make sure all the worst cases were dumped on Keith’s desk, and he purposely never credited him for his work on high-profile cases when speaking to the media. But his efforts to pull Bernie and Keith apart had only pushed them closer together. When they announced their engagement, Theodore had decided to resort to a tactic that he hoped would taint the perfect image his daughter had of Keith.
He’d reasoned that if Keith was going to be a fixture in his daughter’s life, then he needed to know more about him than what they had in his human resources file. Theodore had gone behind Bernie’s back and had launched an investigation into Keith’s past. This was when things had gone from bad to worse. For all the resources Theodore had at his disposal, his best efforts hadn’t been able to dig up any dirt on Keith. Outside of a few parking tickets and his military discharge papers, there was nothing on Bernie’s future husband. He was clean . . . almost too clean. This had only made Theodore more suspicious. Either Keith Davis was a ghost or someone had gone through a great deal of trouble to scrub his past.
When Bernie had caught wind of her father’s little backdoor operation, she was livid. Not only was it an invasion of her man’s privacy, but it was also just a low thing to do. Thankfully, she’d put an end to it before Keith found out. It would’ve surely caused irreparable damage to their relationship. The stunt had changed the way Bernie looked at her father and had put a strain on their relationship. Eventually, they’d been able to start mending what was broken, but things would never be the same between them. Though Bernie loved her father, she no longer felt like she could put anything past him.
Bernie pushed the thoughts of her two warring loves from her mind and turned her attention to a more important matter—herself. She had the rest of the afternoon off and decided to put the downtime to some good use. What she needed at that moment was some retail therapy. She was in the mood to murder a store or two, but she would need an accomplice.
By the time Bernie made it to Lenox Square, an upscale mall in Buckhead, Lulu was already there, sitting inside the Cheesecake Factory, nursing a drink. Lulu was a thick girl, tipping the scales at just under 240 pounds, but she carried herself with the confidence of a woman half her size. She was big, beautiful, and proud, qualities that she wore on her sleeve. Lulu had never been afraid to let the world know who she was, and this was why Bernie loved her.
At present Lulu was currently occupying the attention of the light-skinned young man who had helped himself to the seat across from hers. He wore skinny jeans, which sagged off his ass, and a pair of expensive red sneakers that looked a size too big. He was definitely young, which didn’t surprise Bernie one bit. Lulu liked her men like she liked her steaks, tender. Bernie watched in amusement as her friend bewitched the young man to the point where he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. No doubt she was whispering things to him that were so vulgar that Bernie, as a good Christian, wouldn’t dare say them to a man. When Lulu noticed her standing there, she slid a business card across the table and dismissed him. If the boy was smart, he’d dump the card into the nearest trash can and forget the chunky cougar from the mall, but Bernie knew he wouldn’t. They never did. When Lulu was done with him, the boy would end up another blocked phone number and a nasty story for their next girls’ night.
“You done playing in the sandbox?” Bernie took the seat the boy had vacated.
“He’s thirty, if you must know,” Lulu replied with a roll of her eyes.
“Bullshit.”
“Twenty-six. I just rounded up.” Lulu snickered. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of being offered a surprise shopping excursion? And before you say anything, you know I don’t get paid until Thursday, so I ain’t got no money.”
“Didn’t I tell you I got you?” Bernie reminded her. “Not too much to it. I was in the area and decided to catch up with my girl. I haven’t seen much of you since you got that promotion at your job. So, how does it feel being a senior editor for a major publisher?”
“Just like being an editor for a small publisher, only with more vacation days,” Lulu joked.
“You always were the bookworm of the crew, so it is really no surprise that your career path would take you down a literary road. Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll even start your own publishing house.”
“The hell I will!” Lulu sucked her teeth. “This industry is a damn headache. I love to read, but I don’t have time for the politics played between these publishers and authors.”
“Is it that bad?” Bernie asked.
“Girl, this game is worse than when I used to strip back in college. Just the other day we rescinded an offer we made to this really talented woman because she got into a public argument on social media with another author. If I was getting five- or six-figure checks to make up stories, I’d be more worried about where I was taking my next vacation than what the next muthafucka is doing! But enough about me. What’s going on with you? I’m surprised Keith isn’t joined to your hip this afternoon.”
“We met for lunch earlier, but he had to go back to court. I swear, sometimes that man can be a pain in my ass.” Bernie sighed.
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“Trouble in paradise?”
“A small thing to a giant. We got into a little argument.”
“Over what?”
“What else? His mother again. Every time the subject of meeting his family comes up . . .”
“He gives you the runaround,” Lulu said, finishing her sentence. “You and Keith have been playing this game since things got serious between you. Why do you insist on beating a dead horse?”
“Because I think it’s total bullshit that the man I’m supposed to marry doesn’t think I’m good enough to meet his family!” Bernie fumed.
“You ever stop to think that maybe it’s the other way around?” Lulu countered. “Outside of the fact that he is originally from New Orleans, has been in the military, and graduated from NYU, how much do you really know about Keith’s past?”
Bernie thought about it. “Keith has always been pretty open with me about his past. He didn’t have the best upbringing, so I know there are some lingering resentments toward his mother and his siblings. That’s the reason why he settled in Atlanta after graduation. He wanted a fresh start.”
“In my experience, people looking for fresh starts are usually trying to shake bad endings,” Lulu told her.
Bernie had never thought about it that way. “You think he’s already married? Or maybe got a baby mama tucked away somewhere?”
Lulu gave a throaty laugh. “No, I wouldn’t take it that far. One thing I can say about Keith is, his love for you is genuine. Only a man in love would put up with the Hunts and y’all bullshit. He’s probably worried you won’t approve.”
“But I’m marrying him, not his family.”
“Girl, you know all that comes with the package. Keith is the one you’ll be exchanging vows with, but his family is still going to have to pass Theodore Hunt’s five-point inspection. He still gives Keith the side eye, so imagine how he’d treat his family if they’re anything other than upstanding.”
“But, damn, they can’t be that bad,” Bernie observed.
“That’s true. But you’ve met some of my cousins from Mississippi, and I ain’t gotta tell you how ratchet them Mississippi niggas are. And let’s not forget how judgmental you Hunts can be. Keith’s probably embarrassed because his family is a little ghetto.”
CHAPTER 4
New York’s Little Italy ...
“I’m glad I caught you before you closed!” Carol said, with a sigh of relief, when she slipped inside the fish market.
“No worries, Carol. We know you come in every Friday for the same thing. We’d have stayed open all night for ya if need be,” Jimmy said with a sly wink. He was a sweet older Italian man with thinning white hair and a nose that resembled a bell pepper. Some called him “Old Man.” “Two pounds, right?” He began heaping large shrimp onto the metal scale.
“Yes, and thanks, Uncle Jimmy.” Carol began rummaging through her purse for her money.
Jimmy placed a hand over hers to stop her. “Don’t insult me, sweetie. We’re family, and you know family takes care of family at the Fulton Fish Market.” The fish market had been there since before Carol was born, and it was part of history for the people who had grown up in that neighborhood. “If you wanna do something for me, you bring the kids around more often to see their uncle,” he told her while taking the shrimp off the scale and wrapping it in newspaper.
“You’ve got it. And thanks, Uncle Jimmy,” Carol said gratefully. When Jimmy was done packing her shrimp, Carol collected her bag and headed for the exit. Just before she reached the door, it swung open, and she was run over by three assailants who were storming the market.
There were two men leading the charge, with a woman bringing up the rear. The first man was tall and thin, and he wore a ski mask over his face. The second man was much shorter, standing barely five feet, and he had broad shoulders. In his meaty palms, he held an old-school tommy gun. He, too, wore a mask. The woman, who was older, was the only one who hadn’t bothered with a mask, but a pair of dark sunglasses covered her eyes. She had smooth chocolate skin and full lips, which were pulled back in a sneer, showing off the two gold crowns on her incisors. Atop her head of silver curls was an army-issued beret that sat cocked to one side. From the way the men stepped aside to allow her to get in front of them, you could tell she was the leader of the bunch. She was small in stature, but she was carrying a very big shotgun.
“Okay, muthafuckas.” The older woman cocked the slide on the shotgun. “You all know what this is and how it goes. Show me your hands or show me your brains.”
“Lady,” Jimmy said as he came around the counter, with his hands raised, “I think maybe you’re looking for the bank down the street. This is a fish market, and I doubt you’ll find enough cash here to be worth the trouble that’s going to come with it.”
The woman cracked Jimmy in the jaw with the butt of her shotgun, sending him spilling to the floor. “This ain’t no more a fish market than I’m a twenty-year-old video vixen. You boys are running a Laundromat for dirty cash, and I’m here to pick up some dry cleaning. Now, run it, before I find myself at a loss for words and let this pump speak for me.”
A brave, yet foolish, worker wearing a white smock and rubber boots saw this as his opportunity to play tough guy. Before Jimmy could shout a warning to him, he had already drawn the gun they kept behind the counter and was making his move. He never even had a chance to chamber a round before the short man cut loose with the tommy gun and damn near split him in half.
“Y’all think we fucking around?” the tommy gun–wielding robber yelled as he stormed forward. His eyes made a quick sweep over the small crowd of shoppers in the market before landing on Carol. He reached up and grabbed a fistful of her hair, then dragged her into the center of the room. From behind the holes of his ski mask, lifeless eyes stared down at Jimmy. “You got two choices, old-timer. Give us the paper and let us bounce.” He pressed the hot barrel of the tommy gun against Carol’s cheek and singed her soft white flesh. “Or I’m gonna rock this bitch to sleep.”
Jimmy had been around for a long time . . . long enough to know the difference between a threat and a promise, and what the short man was giving up was hard facts. “Okay,” Jimmy finally agreed. “The money is in the back. Just take it and go.”
The tallest of the robbers took a step toward the back room, but the woman in the beret stopped him with a firm hand to his chest. “What, you looking to die early? You don’t never rush foolishly through a door when you don’t know what’s on the other side,” she scolded him.
“I’ll go with him,” the robber with the tommy gun volunteered. “You got this out here?”
“Yeah. I think they’ve gotten the idea of how we give it up. Ain’t nobody gonna break stupid,” the older woman said confidently. Fear was etched across the faces of everyone in the room, including Jimmy. “Go get that cash for Mama, but take the white bitch with you for insurance.”
The two robbers made their way toward the back room, with Carol leading the way. They had been gone for only a few seconds before the sound of gunfire split the air. There were two short pops, followed by the familiar rattle of the tommy gun, and then eerie silence fell over the store. Everyone, but especially the older woman, held their breath to see who would emerge from the gunfight. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation, hoping she hadn’t sent the boys to their deaths. A few minutes later the two masked men resurfaced. As he dragged a black trash bag behind him, the shorter one was supporting the weight of the taller one, who appeared to have suffered a gunshot wound to the gut.
“You were right about the ambush, Ma,” the taller one joked, trying to hide the world of pain he was in from the hole in his stomach.
Ma didn’t miss his slip of the lip, but she ignored it. “Don’t worry, son. We’re gonna get you patched up.” She turned to the shorter robber. “Get him outside and the money into the van. I’ll cover our exit.”
Tommy Gun nodded and helped his partner outside. He didn’t like the idea of le
aving the older woman in there alone to watch their backs, but Pearl “Machine-Gun Ma” Savage wasn’t the type of woman you could argue with and expect to win. Besides, she could handle a gun better than anyone he knew, including himself. If anyone decided to buck, there was no doubt in his mind that he or she would meet a swift end.
Ma backed cautiously toward the door, shotgun sweeping back and forth, keeping everyone on the floor. Jimmy lay there, staring daggers at her. She knew exactly what he was thinking and how things would play out, because the taller robber had been sloppy when he called her by name. She knew that no sooner would they leave than Jimmy would be on the phone with his bosses to report the robbery and share what he had heard. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to put it all together, and she and her boys would find themselves on a Mafia hit list.
Better safe than sorry, she thought. She braced the shotgun against her shoulder and blew Jimmy’s chest open.
* * *
When Machine-Gun Ma came outside, she expected to see the getaway van waiting, but instead, she saw a black on black Caprice car pull to a screeching halt a few yards away. Even if someone had heard the gunshots and had called them in, blue and whites would’ve likely been the first to respond to the crime scene, not an unmarked car. Ma cursed herself for not factoring in that an establishment such as the one they were robbing would have cops on the payroll who would respond at a moment’s notice if something went down. Somebody must’ve signaled to the cops while they were robbing the joint. It was too late to worry about it now; escape was the only thing that mattered from here on out.
“Die pigs!” Ma bellowed before cutting loose with the shotgun.
Seeing his mother engaged in a gunfight, Tommy Gun, who was actually named Big John Savage, went into kill mode. Abandoning his wounded partner and the bag of money, he brought his tommy gun into play and made Swiss cheese of the windshield of the unmarked car. He was able to get the cops off his mother’s back long enough for her to join him behind the parked car he had been using for cover.
