Dreams Deferred (Brooks Sisters Dreams Series Book 2)

by L. J. Taylor

  Zeke inclined his head toward a visitor’s chair in front of his desk. The two men dragged the third man to the chair, slammed him into it and pressed down on his shoulders when he tried to get up. Zeke walked behind the desk and stroked his fingers down the barrel of the .44 Magnum that lay upon it. “Mikey, Mikey. Settle down.”

  The man squinted up at him through eyes nearly swollen shut. Sweat mingled with the blood running down his face and his breathing was labored. “Zeke, this is just a misunderstanding. With all that I’ve done for you and your crew, why would you send your boys out to rough me up like this without talking to me first?”

  “Mikey, Mikey.” Zeke wagged a reproving finger from side to side. “You’ve been a bad boy. Should I call you Mikey or do you prefer to be called Detective Michael Lipton instead?”

  The man jumped, his swollen eyes widening ever so slightly. He began to struggle in earnest. Zeke’s men held him down.

  Zeke picked up the gun and aimed it at the center of his chest.

  “No!” The man stopped struggling, sat up and looked Zeke in the eye as best he could. “You’re right. I’m a cop. Do you have any idea how much shit you’ll bring down upon yourself if you shoot me? Right now, it’s only assault. If I die, you’ll go down for first degree murder, assuming a cop doesn’t take you out first. Let me go.”

  Zeke brought his gun arm up, rested his elbow on the table and pointed the gun upward toward the ceiling as he pretended to consider the man’s offer. He watched and waited until a glimpse of hope flared up in the detective’s eyes. He shook his head and, once again, aimed the gun at the man, a sly smile spreading across his face. “Sorry Mikey. I’m not going down for assault or murder.”

  The detective began to struggle again. “Please. I have a wife and kids.”

  Zeke pulled the trigger twice, putting two bullets through the man’s heart. “Sorry, Mikey.” He handed the gun to Terrell and stood up. “Get that mess cleaned up and then get to work on the arrangements for Ivy.”

  “You got it,” Terrell said.

  Chapter II

  Ivy carefully parked Kathy’s Lexus sedan in the public parking lot across from the government building. It was a beautiful ride and she didn’t want to incur her sister’s wrath by getting a scratch on it.

  She checked her watch. She had twenty minutes before her first appointment with her probation officer. She took a sip from the coffee she’d picked up along the way, hoping the caffeine would clear her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have partied so hard last night, but it was worth the price. She and Karen had a blast hitting the clubs on South Beach. After so much time being locked up, it felt amazing to dress up, flirt and dance with members of the opposite sex. There was nothing wrong with flirting and dancing, but she had no intention of taking it any further. She was on a mission and that mission started today.

  She climbed out of the car, locked it and sighed. It was so good to see her very pregnant big sister, Kathy, and her brother-in-law, Charles, waiting for her when she walked out of those prison gates. They’d looked so happy together. She was beyond grateful they’d allowed her to stay with them until she got on her feet but she was going to have to get her own place as soon as humanly possible.

  She hadn’t been out of jail for two hours before she and Kathy had gotten into it. Kathy didn’t think it was a good idea for her to go partying on South Beach with her former cellmate on her first night out of jail. In fact, she didn’t think Ivy should consort with Karen at all. They’d had a huge argument over it.

  Ivy grimaced. Kathy wasn’t just pissed off. Ivy could tell she was worried and more than a little hurt by the argument. It made her feel guilty. She scowled. Where did Kathy get off saying she couldn’t blow off a little steam in a perfectly legal way her first night out? And how did she expect her to just turn her back on a friend?

  She wouldn’t have survived the past eighteen months without Karen. When the government had ended the Mothers and Infants Together program early and she’d had to give Omari up, all she’d wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Karen helped her through that. Besides, Karen wasn’t a hardcore criminal. Like so many other women in that place, Karen’s one and only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong fool.

  Well at least she wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. She planned to stay away from men and raise Omari on her own. That way, he wouldn’t be influenced by bad role models, and she wouldn’t have to worry about being dragged into someone else’s mess.

  She checked in at the Department of Corrections, took the urine test for drugs and entered her probation officer’s small office when her name was called. He held up a hand without looking at her and pointed a finger toward the seat in front of his desk.

  Ivy sat down and studied him while he jotted something down in a file. He was a small, wiry, balding White man, about sixty years old, dressed in a rumpled shirt and polyester pants. His stringy brown hair was combed over sideways across his scalp in a futile effort to disguise the fact that it was thinning.

  He looked up and set his beady dark brown eyes on her. “Who are you?”

  “Ivy Brooks,” she said.

  “Oh.” He closed the file in front of him, grabbed another from the pile on his left, pulled it toward him, opened it and began reading. “It says here that you were in the joint for conspiracy and possession of stolen property, and that they never recovered all of the goods from the robbery. It also says that you never gave up the ringleader of the operation. You’ve got three years’ probation and millions of dollars in restitution to pay.”

  He looked up at her. “My name is Bill Brandt. I’ve been assigned to be your probation officer. As long as you do exactly what I tell you to do, you will be alright. If you don’t do exactly what I tell you to do, we will have problems and I will send your sorry ass back to the joint to serve out the rest of your sentence. Do we understand each other?”

  Ivy swallowed before answering. “Yes.”

  “Good. The first thing you’re going to do is get a job, so you can start paying back this restitution. I have a lead here.” He scribbled a name and telephone number onto a notepad, ripped off the page and handed it to her. “Call this place today. Tell them Bill sent you. The next time I see you, you had better be employed.”

  “Okay.”

  “You will report here once a week and take a drug test. I will also need to do a home assessment and appear randomly at your place of employment to make sure you’re working. Your next appointment is on Tuesday, at 1:00p.m. If your working hours conflict with that time, call me and we’ll work around that. Keep your nose clean. That’s all.” He turned to his computer, started typing and ignored her.

  “Yes sir.” Ivy got up and left the office. Was this what she’d have to deal with for the next three years? She hoped not. She glanced down at the paper he had handed her. The note said to call “Jenna” at the Airport Marriott Hotel. She wondered what kind of jobs they had available at the hotel and why Brandt hadn’t even bothered to find out what job skills she had. Oh well, she’d find out soon enough.

  ***

  There was no-one home when she got back to Kathy’s house. She went into Kathy’s office, sat at her desk, dialed the number for the Airport Marriott hotel and asked for Jenna. The hotel operator transferred the call.

  “Jenna here,” said a woman with a raspy voice.

  “Hello. My name is Ivy Brooks. Bill Brandt told me to call you about getting a job at the hotel.”

  “Bill Brandt, huh? You don’t sound like the typical ex-cons he normally refers to me,” Jenna said.

  “I don’t know about typical, but, unfortunately, the other part is right. What kind of jobs do you have available at the hotel?” Ivy asked.

  “The job is a junior maid position. It pays minimum wage for the first six months. If you’re still around then, you get promoted to a regular maid position which pays $2.00 more an hour. After a year, if you’re smart enough and your work is g
ood, you could qualify for a promotion to maid supervisor which raises your pay by another $2.00 an hour. You interested?”

  Ivy was silent for a moment. The job paid no money, but she didn’t really have a choice for now. She’d have to take it and look for something better. “Yes, I’m interested. When do I start and what are the hours?”

  “Come in at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow and ask for me. I’ll have you fill out the paperwork and get your uniforms. I’ll also have your schedule ready for you then,” Jenna said.

  “Thank you,” Ivy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She hung up and stared into space for a little while then she turned on her sister’s computer and began working on her resume.

  When Kathy and Charles came home that night, Ivy had dinner ready for them. It was the least she could do to thank them and to make up for the argument she’d had with Kathy the night before. Over dinner, she told them about her meeting with her probation officer and her new job as a hotel maid.

  “You’ll never make enough money working as a hotel maid to take care of you and Omari,” Kathy said. “Didn’t your probation officer have any job leads better suited to your skills? You can type, you know your way around a computer and you have customer service experience and a brain. You could do any number of things. Why that job?”

  “Well, according to Jenna, that’s where Brandt sends all the ex-convicts. Look, I have to take the job for now. He wants me employed immediately. In the meantime, I’ve put together a draft of my resume. Will you take a look at it for me?”

  “Of course I will, babe,” Kathy said. “By the way, this food is delicious. You always could burn. I could get used to having you around here.”

  “Yeah,” Charles said, over a mouthful of pasta. “This is great! You can stay as long as you want. Kathy hardly cooks anymore.”

  Kathy rolled her eyes and scooped up another forkful.

  Ivy laughed. “It’s the least I could do. You two are doing so much for me, but don’t get too used to me being here though. I don’t intend to stay forever--just long enough to get on my feet.”

  “Seriously,” Charles said, “you stay here as long as you need to. That’s what family is for, Sis.”

  Ivy smiled at them. She appreciated the love and support, but, after years of being locked up, she was eager to start controlling her own destiny. She needed to find a better job, save up enough to put a deposit on her own place, get her son back and start living her life.

  ***

  Ivy finished cleaning room 311. As she leaned over to put the dirty linen and towels she had retrieved from the room into the hamper attached to her cart, she felt a hand slap her lightly across her right buttock. She straightened up quickly and turned around ready to knock someone out. “What the-.”

  The words trailed off as she spotted the man behind her. It was Zeke. Ivy stared at him. He looked good – like six foot two inches of dark chocolate over lean tight muscle. She’d almost forgotten how fine he was, but, this time, his looks didn’t have the same effect on her that they used to.

  Zeke smiled, clucked his tongue, and tapped her under her chin with his right index finger. “That’s no language for a lady.” He grasped her chin, pulled her face forward, leaned over and kissed her passionately on the lips. Lust snaked through her belly with the familiar kiss before she remembered where they were, who they were. She broke off the kiss, pushed him away and stepped back. He frowned down at her. “What?”

  Under other circumstances, she would have been tempted to laugh at the obvious frustration on his face. She shook her head sternly then scanned the hallway praying no-one had seen them. She could get fired for fooling around on the job. Worse yet, it would be just her luck for her probation officer to show up for one of his impromptu visits and find Zeke tonguing her down in the hallway. Zeke grabbed her arm. She yanked it out of his grasp.

  “No!” She glanced around again. “Look, I could get fired for this. You can’t just come in here and grab me. What’s the matter with you?”

  Zeke looked her up and down in the maid’s uniform and smiled. “You look cute in that uniform baby, but I doubt you mean to keep it as a serious occupation. Who cares if you’re fired from this penny ante job? How much are they paying you anyway?”

  “That’s not the point. Remaining employed is a condition of my probation, as is not consorting with known felons. They could send me back to prison just for talking to you.”

  “No, they can’t. I haven’t been convicted of any felonies. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. You get the rest of us to handle those pesky little details for you.”

  Zeke frowned. “Honey, I had no idea the police were going to raid your place. If I had known they were watching me, I would never have left the jewels there.”

  She looked into his eyes. His expression was the epitome of sincerity. Something in her wanted to believe him, yet her instincts told her he was probably lying through his teeth. It didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was getting him out of there before he caused her any more trouble.

  “Whatever. Listen, you’ve got to get out of here. You’re going to get me in trouble and I’m not going back to jail for anyone.”

  He raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Okay. Okay. Let’s finish this conversation over a drink when you get off work. What time do you get off?”

  “Six o’clock, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet. Even though you haven’t been convicted yet, we both know the police are looking at you and that it’s only a matter of time.”

  He sucked his teeth and waved a hand. “Please girl. No cop’s getting the best of me. Meet me at the Delano Hotel on South Beach after work. We’ll have a few drinks. It’ll be just like old times.” He gave her a charming smile.

  She looked at him. Agreeing to meet him after work was the fastest way to get him out of there. On the other hand, he’d be back the next day if she failed to show up for the date, but meeting him was dangerous - on a number of levels. She could find herself embroiled in more of his mess or, worse yet, she could slip up and mention something about Omari. The less time she spent around him the better. The elevator chime sounded.

  She jumped and made a quick decision. “Fine. I’ll meet you there at eight. Now go away.” She turned away, pushed her cart to the next room on her list and knocked on the door. “Housekeeping,” she called out. Upon hearing no answer, she pulled out her master key then glanced up and down the hall. There was no sign of Zeke.

  ***

  At 8:15p.m., Ivy walked into the lobby of the Delano Hotel. She paused to survey the lobby as she stuffed the ticket the valet attendant had given to her into the outside pocket of her purse.

  She’d never been here before. The lobby was bustling with activity. Uniformed front desk staff and concierges attended to hotel guests while bellhops rolled hotel carts loaded with luggage back and forth. A young couple strolled in holding hands and headed off to the left side of the lobby. People of all different races, shapes and sizes milled about. South Beach locals were dressed for the evening in slinky club wear while tourists wore cut-off shorts and beach wear.

  She spotted Zeke standing off to the side by himself. He was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, watching her. She felt a chill slide down her spine. He’d probably been watching her from the moment she’d walked in. He used to watch her like that in the old days when they played their little games. They’d meet up in hotel lobbies and pretend to be strangers meeting for the first time. They’d inevitably wind up getting it on in a hotel room by the end of the evening. She bit her lip as memories of some of those encounters came flooding back and watched as a wolfish grin spread across his face--as if he’d read her mind.

  She wasn’t here for fun and games this time. She was here to make it clear she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. She’d never be able to convince him of that if she kept tripping down memory lane. She crossed the lobby and walked up to him. They stared at each other for a moment
.

  “Hello Zeke,” she said.

  “Hey baby.” He grabbed her hand, pulled her closer to him and kissed her on the lips. The kiss felt warm, tempting, inviting. She could feel herself wanting to just melt into it, but no--she couldn’t have that. She put her right hand against his chest and pushed, breaking off the kiss. She stepped back.

  “Something the matter, baby?” he asked.

  “Zeke,” she said, “we have to talk.”

  He nodded. “I know. Listen. I got us a room upstairs so we could have a little privacy.” He held up a small white cardboard envelope containing the hotel key.

  “No. There’s no need for us to go upstairs. I can just say what I’ve got to say right here or at the bar.”

  He shook his head. “No. You’re not the only person with something to say. Besides, any discussion concerning you and me should definitely take place behind closed doors. If you won’t go upstairs with me, then let’s just go back to my place or maybe we can go to your sister’s house.”

  He had her in a quandary. She didn’t want to go to his place. He lived at least half an hour away on a good day. And she definitely couldn’t take him to Kathy’s house. She’d probably shoot him on sight. She’d never liked Zeke--probably because she suspected he had something to do with Ivy’s criminal troubles.

  Ivy sighed. “Fine then. I’ll go upstairs with you, but only for a moment. I’m not here for fun and games.”

  He grinned. “Alright. Damn, woman. Prison’s made you all hard and tough. I like it.”

  Ivy’s felt her lips twitch. They took the elevator to the top floor of the hotel and headed to a room at the end of the hall. He opened the door and led her into a suite. She stepped into the living room and then stopped and stared.

  He had gone all out. A bucket of ice sat on a stand by the table in the dining area, a bottle of champagne nestled inside. Ivy walked over to it, pulled the champagne bottle up by the neck and raised her eyebrows. It was Moet Chandon. She put the bottle back into the bucket and walked over to the table to survey the spread. There was a series of small platters--shrimp, cheese and crackers, pate, fresh fruit, conch fritters, and her absolute favorite - chocolate covered strawberries. Unable to resist, she plucked a strawberry off the platter and bit into it. Her eyes closed and a small moan escaped. “Mmm.” She licked strawberry juice from the corners of her mouth. “These are my favorites.”