“And then when you get to Bassano’s, you’ll send your plate back at least two times, and you’ll take teeny-tiny bites, so that—”
“We stay for at least two hours—I know, I know already. Don’t you have to get dressed for your Sunday morning date, you big heathen?”
“Yes, I do, which is why I’m hanging up now,” Lauren laughed.
“Well, don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do, Miss Thing.”
“That certainly leaves me open to a whole lot, doesn’t it, Mr. Thing?” Lauren asked back.
“Yup—sure does!” Donald laughed. “Have some good, clean, naughty Sunday fun!” Donald yelled, and hung up.
Lauren slung her legs over the side of her bed and waited until she heard one of the four automatic garage doors creak up. She tiptoed over to her window to watch Altimus pull the Mercedes SL around the circular driveway and then high-tailed it to her closet to pull together what easily could have been a three-hour hair, makeup, and wardrobe session into only a little more than a half hour. The pressure. She could hardly believe that she would finally see Jermaine face-to-face after he’d spent weeks ducking her. She still couldn’t understand why he’d insisted on not answering her phone calls, texts, and IMs before he gave her the secret phone, but he promised last night that he would “break it down so it will forever be broke.”
“See? There you go quoting ‘love jones’ again. Do you have any original lines?” she whispered into their private phone the night before, long after everyone in the house had shut off their TVs and slathered on their cold cream and said their good nights.
“I got plenty,” Jermaine said. “I just wish I didn’t have to tell them to you over the phone.”
“Me, too,” Lauren sighed. “I would give anything to have you here lying next to me. I want to feel your arms wrapped around me, feel your breath on my face.”
“I know, me, too. But it’s just not safe, Lauren,” Jermaine said. “I’ve been over it in my mind a thousand times, and I just can’t figure out how to see you without someone catching us—me.”
“Come here!” Lauren said.
“What?” Jermaine asked, incredulous. “You want me to walk right into the belly of the beast?”
“That’s why it’s a brilliant plan, don’t you see?” she asked. “My family goes to church every Sunday. I’ll just fake like I can’t make it this week. So while they’re out, you’re in. Nobody would expect you to have the balls to walk up into the crib!”
Jermaine thought about it for a moment, and, despite that everything within his being was telling him this was a bad idea, he finally agreed. “What time?” he asked.
“They leave at seven-thirty for the eight A.M. service, and they don’t usually get back until about ten or so. And since tomorrow is a first Sunday, they’ll even have to stick around a little longer for communion.”
“I don’t know,” Jermaine hedged. “What about your sister? Are you sure she’s going to go? And just how you gonna get out of going with them? And what about the neighbors? How am I going to get to the front door without anybody seeing me? It just seems risky, Lauren, and that’s my ass if we get caught.”
“Let me worry about your ass and all that other stuff, too, okay? I need to see you. Come here. Take MARTA and come in through the back door at eight-fifteen, no earlier. I’ll take care of everything else.”
His image appeared in her mirror, just over her left shoulder, as she was putting the last bobby pin into the messy bun she was pulling together. Sheer terror crossed Lauren’s face; she screamed so loud she was sure the neighbors, if they were home, would have heard her. Jermaine, thrown off by her scream, jumped and yelled, “Oh, shit—what?”
Lauren spun around. Her frightened eyes instantly smiled when she realized the strange man who appeared in her mirror was her man. “Ohmigod, you scared the mess out of me!” she squealed, jumping into his arms and squeezing him really tight.
“You told me to come in the back door. I walked through the house, heard something up here, and figured it was you,” Jermaine said, accepting her embrace.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to come up is all—no biggie,” Lauren gushed. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”
He pulled back from her arms and took her face in his hands. “Look at you, Lauren. You’re so beautiful. God, I’ve missed you,” he said, leaning in and kissing her lips once, then twice, then again and again. Lauren put her arms around his neck and got into it, slightly parting her lips to accept his tongue. He tasted like wintergreen breath mints. She loved wintergreen breath mints.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said, between hugs and smooches. “Don’t ever stay away from me that long again,” she admonished.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” Jermaine said, stepping back and leaning against the bathroom wall. “Your pops? He got a brotha on the run, on the real.”
“Jermaine, you just got here, and I haven’t seen you in almost a month. I don’t want to talk about my father or what’s happened or what might be going on. I just want you,” Lauren said, walking close to him and rubbing her body against his. “We don’t have a lot of time…”
“That’s exactly why we need to talk, Lauren. We don’t have a lot of time, and there are some things you need to understand and understand quickly.”
“Can’t we save the serious talk for the phone?” Lauren asked, pouting. “I just want us to enjoy each other.”
“Lauren, I feel you. But your pops, man, he got me trippin’.”
“Which one?” Lauren asked.
“What do you mean which one?” Jermaine asked as Lauren pulled him into her room and gently sat him down on her bed.
“Which one of my fathers got you all twisted out? Altimus or Dice?”
“Why would I be scared of Dice?” Jermaine asked, frowning.
“Well, he is in prison under suspicion of having killed your brother, isn’t he? And for violating his parole?” Lauren said quizzically.
“Hold up. You really think your father is responsible for this, not your stepfather?” Jermaine asked.
“Well, I don’t really consider Dice my father—I prefer to think of him as the sperm donor who got lucky with ole Keisha,” Lauren said, half laughing.
“Damn, you know less than I thought—or maybe more, I can’t figure out which,” Jermaine said, standing up. He rubbed his hair with both hands and walked toward Lauren’s window. “Damn.”
“What?” Lauren said.
“Listen to me. You need to know that Altimus Duke is not to be played with,” Jermaine demanded, perhaps more forcefully than he intended.
“I think I know a lot more about Altimus Duke than you think,” Lauren snapped. God, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go, she said to herself. The plan she wanted to stick to was the one where he held her in his arms, told her how much he missed her, and they smooched and cuddled and stuff. She wished he would stay on subject.
“Look,” he said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Lauren. It’s just that there’s a lot of stuff happening that you don’t know about, and the block is hot around my way.”
“Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on, so that we both know what’s up?” Lauren huffed.
Jermaine sighed and shook his head. “It’s just that up until now, I was sure they had the wrong guy in jail. I mean, he and my brother didn’t exactly get along, but—”
“Hold up. How did Dice know Rodney, anyway?”
“They were in the pen together, and had some kind of dealings once the both of them got out. But I thought they were mostly friendly visits,” Jermaine said, rubbing his temples.
“Well, is there anything you’ve heard that would make you think differently about their relationship?” Lauren asked.
“You’re his child,” Jermaine said simply.
“And?” Lauren huffed. “I’m Altimus’s child, too.”
“Tell me about it!” Jermaine said. “I haven’t heard anything but how I need to lay
low because of your daddy. Yo, on the real? Altimus is a hood figure with connections that run real deep.”
“Don’t get it twisted. Dice is no angel and, quite frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with all of this,” Lauren said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, well, as much as you may think Dice is involved, I believe Altimus knows what’s up.” Jermaine said.
“Why are you the one doing all the investigating, anyway?” Lauren asked, turning his face toward hers. “Isn’t that what the police are for? Why not let them sort it all out? I don’t understand why you have to be all twisted up in it.”
“It was my brother, Lauren,” Jermaine said, standing up from the bed and walking toward the window. “It would be nice to sit around waiting for the police to do their job, but it don’t go down like that in the SWATS. If anybody knows anything, they damn for sure ain’t telling the police, and if something happens to your people, you handle it yourself. I don’t know exactly why my brother got beat down on our front lawn, but I get the feeling that it has something to do with you and me. And until I get to the truth, I can’t stop.”
Lauren was quiet. And then: “I met someone last week who told me you were in serious danger.”
“That’s the general consensus around my way,” Jermaine said, half laughing.
“But I’m thinking this person may be able to help us figure this all out,” Lauren said. “Maybe. He’s my uncle.”
“Damn, L, I’m already running away from both your daddies, you gonna bring your uncle up into it?” Jermaine huffed.
“Calm down, damn. Hear me out,” Lauren insisted. “I met him last week when I came to the West End looking for you.”
“Yo, you gotta stay out of the West End, for real—”
“Shh!” Lauren said, putting her finger to her lips. “Just listen. I have a good feeling about him. He actually saved me from the beat-down your girl Brandi was ready to deliver.”
“Brandi, huh?” Jermaine said, recalling Lauren’s earlier run-in with his homegirl, who was forever trying to hook up with him.
“Uh, yeah. We’ll have to sidebar on her role in the Jermaine saga, but right now, let’s focus on Uncle Larry. I don’t know what it is about him, but he seemed like he might know a little somethin’, somethin’. I also felt like he might be willing to help.”
“Willing to help, huh?”
“Yeah,” Lauren continued. “Like maybe we should try to hook up with him to get the info or advice we need to get on with it.”
“I don’t know, Lauren. I mean, my brother’s dead, they got my moms all shook, I’m looking over my shoulder all hours of the day and night, lying low, wondering if someone’s going to come get me, or the police, or who will get to me first—”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Lauren begged abruptly, turning his face to hers. “I only have you to myself for a few hours, and I’ve been waiting for this—for you to be standing in front of me—for way too long to be talking about this now. We’re going to figure out what happened to your brother. And if either of my fathers had anything to do with his death, we’re going to figure that part out, too. Trust, we’re going to get to the bottom of this. But let’s figure it out another time,” she said, turning his face toward hers. She kissed his lips softly once, and then again, and again. He responded in kind, pulling her close to his body, their breathing bodies, their beating hearts, moving as one. After their tongues did their slow, hot dance, Jermaine pulled back and placed her hands in his. He looked over at her bed, and then she did, too. And together, they walked slowly toward it.
“Wait,” Lauren said suddenly, pulling away from him and walking toward her stereo system. “I made a mix on my iPod for you. It’s mostly old school stuff, Jodeci, Stevie Wonder, Mary J. Blige, and what not. But each one of the songs means something to me, and every last one of them reminds me of you,” she continued as she pushed a few buttons. Stevie’s “Visions” blasted through the speakers.
“You ain’t got no Soulja Boy up in there? No Fitty? T-Pain?” Jermaine laughed.
Lauren was a little stunned.
“I’m just kidding,” he said, pulling Lauren onto his lap.
“See? You know you wrong,” Lauren giggled. “Come here,” she said, tapping her lips with her pointer finger.
They kissed passionately, their soft moans going unheard over the din of Stevie’s piano. Lauren used her palms to slowly lay Jermaine across her bed, then laid on top of him, squishing her body against his. She wriggled a little when his hands slid up her thigh and under her skirt, his palms cupping her butt.
If not for all that moaning and Stevie’s song and the preoccupation with the hugging and kissing and rubbing, one of them might have heard the short but reasonably loud alarm that sounds when someone walks through one of the several doors leading into the Duke estate. One of them might have even heard the keys hit the ornate circular table in the foyer. Or one of them might have heard the creaking of Lauren’s door as it opened.
Jermaine saw her first.
Lauren heard the gasp.
She lifted her head just in time enough to see her twin flee—down the stairs she went, two by two.
Lauren jumped off Jermaine and ran after Sydney, calling out to her like her very life depended on it. Truth be told, it did. She needed Sydney to keep her trap shut about what she saw, lest she and her man end up on the obit page of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. “Syd, wait up!” Lauren yelled again, she, too, taking the steps two by two, Jermaine on her heels. The two of them burst through the glass door and pushed the heavy iron gate open.
“I forgot my notes for my meeting—I have to go,” Sydney called out, shutting the car door to their father’s Mercedes, which she’d apparently borrowed to double-back from church.
“Just wait, Syd, let me explain.”
“No, no explanations, Lauren,” Sydney snapped. “You probably ought to consider getting your boyfriend back in the house, though, before the neighbors see him. Or maybe Mom’s nosy friend?”
Lauren hadn’t considered the nosy friend. In fact, so excited was she about seeing Jermaine, she had forgotten that Keisha had them all tapped out like the damn FBI. Instinctively, her eyes darted wildly, looking for signs of someone in the bushes, or peeking over the massive brick fence surrounding the property, or the surveillance cameras that stood sentry over the Duke estate.
Lauren looked at Jermaine and dropped her eyes. “You better go,” she said simply.
11
SYDNEY
“Okay, for the record, I so heart Jason,” Carmen playfully swooned as Sydney showed her the text message Jason had sent during her last period. Attached to it was a video of a dancing teddy bear holding a sign that read: THINKING ABOUT YOU.
“I have to admit, he’s really adorable,” Sydney gushed, tapping back her reply as the two strolled through the outdoor courtyard full of students enjoying the sunny afternoon.
“So when are you guys going to make it official?” Carmen asked impatiently as she waved across the large atrium at a group of girls from her drama class. “I’m, like, dying to go on a double date!”
“Uh, Carm, we just went on our first date two days ago,” Sydney reminded her friend as she stopped to check the pile of books in her arm for her chemistry workbook. “Can we please have a little time to get to know each other before sending out the wedding invitations?”
“Whatever, smart aleck,” Carmen retorted as she waited patiently. “Aren’t you the one who told me not to play hard to get when I met Michael?”
“Yes.” Sydney reluctantly copped to the charge.
“Well then? Girl, you’re the only one who’s going to be mad if someone else makes a move on him. You see how scandalous these desperate hoochies can be,” Carmen hinted none too subtly as they resumed walking.
“No, I hear you,” Sydney agreed with her friend. “I just want to take my time, is all. Once word gets out, every damn body is going to be up in the busi
ness. I just want to enjoy getting to know Jason without reading about the two of us on YRT just yet.”
“Good point…I mean seriously, damn Barbie and Ken, you guys are totally about to become Brookhaven’s Brad and Angelina…Sans the babies of course.”
Sydney laughed and shook her head, imagining herself and Jason on the run from the paparazzi with a multinational brood in tow. “Yes, definitely sans the kids.” She stopped to open the double doors that led back into the school.
As they stepped through the doors and into the building, Carmen shivered slightly under her purple-and-white Thomas Pink button-up shirt. “Damn, why didn’t I grab my wrap when we stopped at my locker,” she complained.
“Umm-hmm, and you know the library is going to be even worse,” Sydney mused, thankful for the lightweight cashmere cardigan she decided to wear that day.
“Hold up, Syd,” a familiar voice called out from behind the girls.
Sydney turned into the crowd of students. “Lauren,” she responded hesitantly.
The crowd finally parted and Lauren stepped forward. “Hey, Carmen. Um, Syd, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Hey,” Carmen replied flatly.
“Um, sure…Carm, can I catch up with you in a minute?”
“Sure. I’m actually going to run back to my locker, grab my wrap. I’ll meet you back here later,” she responded. “See you later, Lauren,” she offered, heading back out the doors.
“So what’s up?” Sydney asked, trying to keep things light. As a general rule, the girls hardly ever spoke in school. Not to mention, the two had been avoiding each other like cold sores on prom night since the Jermaine debacle on Sunday.
“Can we find somewhere a bit more private?” Lauren asked, indicating the library.
“Sure,” Sydney said, leading the way to the individual soundproof reading rooms in the back.
“Damn, how’d you find out about these spots,” Lauren asked as she dropped her vintage Louis Vuitton duffel handbag on the desk and looked around the small room that came equipped with a desk, two chairs, laptop, and flat screen TV.
If Only You Knew Page 10
