Deadly Saintes- The Complete Series, page 20
part #1 of Deadly Saintes Series
“What does that mean?”
“It means I know what you’re about to ask. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
“I heard you arguing on the phone last night.”
“It was a discussion,” he said. “Me and my brother,” he slapped himself in the forehead, then shook his head. “Never mind.”
“This is why you need to come to LA with me.” She sat up. “I’m not saying you have to move there. Stay for a couple of months, see how you like it. At the least it could be an extended vacation.” She wrapped her arms around his and pulled him close. “That song you did last time was dope. I think a change of scenery could be good.”
He reached into his pocket to grab his phone.
It’s done. You’re out.
“Out of what,” Zola asked.
“My contract with Titus. Constance got me out.”
“I thought you had to finish the album.”
He hunched his shoulders. “I guess not.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He watched the couple on TV kiss.
“Why can’t life be that easy?” Zola stretched after she stood. “Is it bad I still believe in that kind of love?” She looked down after he grabbed her hand.
“I’m coming to LA with you.”
9
With the Sainte clan busy with keeping the empire intact, Calvin found himself in control of everything. Constance had set up a company for him. He and Zola dropped a few tunes, and Constance was happy with the results. Essentially, the label was his.
He held a thumb in the air, and the music stopped. “That’s good, baby. Come out and get some water.”
She pecked his lips and sat in his lap.
The engineer smiled as he bobbed his head to the track. “You know it’s not good to mix business and pleasure right? You did your thing on this, sis.”
“I found my muse,” Zola replied. She kissed Calvin again before hopping up. “Your turn, love. Let’s see if you finally learned something.”
His phone rang before he had a chance to respond. “I gotta take this.” Stepping outside, he entered the adjacent studio. The music vibrated through the walls, giving him added privacy. Flipping on the lights proved that no one was hiding in the booth. He answered, “Hey Mr. Reginald.”
“How’s it going? I haven’t talked to you in a while,” Reginald said. “I heard you’re the big man in charge now.”
“It’s a lot to handle. I’m finding my stride though.”
“You must be doing a good job. Constance would be out there if she thought you weren’t on track.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say congratulations on the move. I think it was the right choice for you. But don’t forget you have family back here. We’re all on your side and we all want you to succeed. I’m here if you need anything.”
“Actually,” Calvin peeked out of the door. “I need some advice.”
“Shoot.”
“How did you know Miss Vera was the one?” The speaker hummed as Reginald cleared his throat.
“She didn’t pressure me into wanting to be a better man. She made me want to do that on my own. Her independence also did something for me. When I was in the studio or on the road for business, she was doing her own thing. She was a good partner. I think that contributed to the trust. And that’s the main thing. I trusted her with the three things I valued most–my money, my heart, and my children.” Reginald chuckled. “And she was fine. Pretty women are a dime a dozen, but a heart like Vera’s was one in a million.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s good you found love. It makes everything better,” Reginald said. “Don’t let it go.”
“I won’t.”
Calvin slipped back into the other studio. He made a signal that stopped the music.
Zola poked her head out of the booth before stepping out. Seeing the intensity in his face, she kept her distance. “What’s wrong?”
“Could we get a minute alone?” Calvin took a seat after the engineer left. He patted the spot next to him. He intertwined his fingers with hers. Cupping her face, he said, “You’re so beautiful.” He lifted her chin. “I love everything about you.”
“Even when I snore?”
“Especially when you snore,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re not perfect, but you’re perfect for me. You don’t pressure me into being a better man. You make me want to do that on my own. You have your own life. And I trust you with mine. I trust you with everything.”
Tears began to fill Zola’s eyes. She held a hand over her mouth.
Calvin slid off the couch onto one knee. “I don’t have a ring right now, but we can go get one as soon as you say yes. Zola Marie Burke, will you marry me?”
She didn’t reply. Her hand formed a dam, the tears collecting on her fingers as they streamed from her eyes. Several seconds passed.
“Say something, baby.”
“Yes.” A mixture of coughing and laughter erupted from her core. She threw her arms around him, her momentum knocking him onto his back. Their shared laughter interrupted their kisses.
He combed his fingers through her hair. “I promise to show you how much I love you every day.”
“Music’s gonna be mad at you,” she said, giggling.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m the number one woman in your life now.”
“She’ll understand.” He pulled for her face for another kiss. “Music’s gonna be mad at you too then.”
“Nah. We talked about it the first day I met you.” She laughed at the shock on his face. “I love you Mr. Clark.”
“I love you too Mrs…are you gonna change your last name?”
“You sure know how to ruin a moment.” She held his face and kissed him. Both of their heads snapped to to the door when it opened. Footsteps shook the ground until a pair of boots were a few inches away from them.
“This is exactly why you don’t mix business and pleasure.”
Malcolm finished putting Reginald’s items into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Noticing his smile, he sat on the bed next to him. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Hell yeah. But that’s not the reason for how I feel.”
“Close a big deal?”
Reginald raced his eyebrows. “I guess I kind of did. I think Calvin is going to propose to Zola.”
“That’s great.” He thanked the nurse after she relayed that their car had arrived. “Him and Zola seem like a good match. The news of the engagement will also be good for their albums. Which means more money for us.”
The nurse returned with a wheelchair.
“Take that back,” Reginald said. “I can walk.”
“It’s hospital policy, sir.”
Malcolm peeled two bills off a large stack. “His pride gets the best of him sometimes.”
“It’s not pride Son. It’s strategy. I can’t look weak. You never know who's watching.” He winced as he pushed himself off the bed, shooing both of them away. He remained still for several seconds. Getting the feeling back into his legs, he took a few steps forward. His back straightened as he gained more confidence and his strides became smoother. After walking the length of the room a few times, he was ready.
The house was empty when Reginald and Malcolm walked through the door. Though he expected it, part of him was still hurt. They were his kids, and he set the example: work before everything else, including family.
Baby David’s coo was the first sign of life. He teetered into the room, falling to his knees as he tripped over the transition between the carpet and the hardwood.
“Don’t.” Eralia appeared a moment later. “Let him do it on his own.”
Pride made Reginald’s chest swell as he watched David pushed himself up, holding his arms out to his sides as he caught his balance. Reginald dropped to a knee. “Come to daddy, big boy. You can do it.” He held out his arms, his finger tingling with the urge to hold him. No sooner than when he reached him did Reginald lift him over his head. He made airplane sounds as he zipped him through the air.
“I guess you have everything you need.” Malcolm made faces at David as Reginald hugged him.
“You heading back home?”
“Not yet. Me, Constance, and Lawrence still have things to work out. I also gotta chew their asses out for not being here.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Malcolm reached for the door, turning around a moment later. “What do you think about me moving back?”
Reginald handed the baby to Eralia. “I think that would be great, son. I would love to have you back. But what about your job?”
“Thinking about starting my own consulting firm. It’s just an idea. Get some rest, Dad. I’ll drop off your meds in the morning.”
“Thank you, Malcolm.” Reginald pulled him into a hug. “It means the world to me that you came down. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You took care of me by yourself for almost 15 years. What I did was small. I like helping you, Dad. That’s all I ever wanted to do.” The two hugged again. Malcolm turned to Eralia. “Make sure he doesn’t work too hard.”
“I’ll do my best,” Eralia said. She waved David’s hand. “Say ‘bye to Malcolm.”
He smiled and cooed, waving on his own. Malcolm grinned and returned his wave. “Good bye, little man. Eralia, take care. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, son. Drive safe, let me know when you make it. And tell RJ I said thanks for keeping the seat warm, but I’m back now.”
“Will do,” Malcolm said with a smile.
Reginald followed Eralia to the baby’s room. He stared at the mobile above the crib and felt guilt wash over him. He would be there for this baby. His older children had grown up with little input from him. He had worked hard to secure their future, but he had missed a lot of their childhood. He watched as Eralia rocked the baby, her voice barely above a whisper as she sang. Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She placed David in the crib, her lips barely touching his forehead as she kissed him. Taking Reginald’s hand, she led the way into their bedroom. She left a small space in the door. The gentleness in her face was gone when she looked at him. Pulling her shirt over her head, she tossed it on the bed. The pants she wore landed next to them. Looking at herself in the mirror, she let her hair down, the tips thinning, indicative of the stress plaguing her.
Reginald attempted to hug her.
She slapped his arms away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What are you gonna do about Darius?”
“I haven’t thought about it much. He’s gone. We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Are you fucking stupid? He almost got you killed. We always have to worry about him.” She unclasped her bra .“Do I need to call my father? You know what’ll happen if I do that.”
“I know,” he said.
“He’ll think you can’t protect me,” she said as she stepped out of her panties. “Which means you’ll no longer be an asset. Which means he’ll no longer have any use for you.” She touched his chest. “I know you know that. I know that you always have a plan. I know you know RJ is lying to you. You’ve been sitting in your anger. Your skin is burning.”
Reginald gasped as his back collided with the mattress. “Baby, I missed you, but I’m not sure I’m up to this.”
She laughed. “I’m going to take a shower. Why did you think I was taking off my clothes?”
Reginald shrugged.
“Get some rest,” she said as she went to the bathroom. She paused and turned to him. “Say it. I need to hear it.”
“I have a plan.” Reginald closed his eyes and thought about the only thing that mattered.
Revenge.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Pride
Deadly Saintes Episode 4
Pride is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
This Complete Book is Copyright (c) 2019 by NorthStar Studios
Deadly Saintes (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2019 by NorthStar Studios
All rights reserved. No part of this specific publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of NorthStar Studios
1
Malcolm Sainte looked at his calendar, cursed, and wondered why he hadn’t pursued his original plan. If he had opened his own consulting firm, he would have been able to control his calendar. Hancock wouldn’t dictate what he did every day.
Mr. Cody Hancock was a master of the universe. He had made his fortune in real estate, but he had his hand in too many industries to count. His hedge fund invested in everything from solar energy to telecommunications. Politics was his side hustle, but it made him more money than investing ever could. He was the youngest Attorney General in Michigan history, and he had the ability to connect with both the old guard and the young bucks. He was a beacon for the future and a connection to the past. He was perfect.
It had been Malcolm’s idea to accept Hancock’s offer. His chief of staff had health issues, and he needed an interim player. Reginald was reluctant at first. Then he remembered that Hancock had quite the history with marijuana. Colorful as it was, Hancock had done nothing to hide it, which added to his credibility amongst his constituents.
Honor, piety, and morality were qualities associated with America’s politicians. They were the most upstanding of the upstanding population, able to stave off any attempts at bribery and back stabbing. Malcolm knew politicians were no better than the drug dealers Reginald worked with. In fact, he trusted them less. In the marijuana game, you knew the players. Enemies were enemies, friends were friends. Politicians lied more than dealers ever did.
The political process was nothing more than a dressed up drug deal, the drugs, in this case, being information.
From his career as a hedge fund manager, Malcolm knew just how valuable the right information was. It had the power to make or break deals, also able to make the strongest man kneel at your feet. The most dangerous weapon wasn’t a gun, it was a secret.
Malcolm stared out the glass wall of his office at the tired faces. Hancock was a workaholic, and he expected his staff to keep the same brutal hours. They had bags under their eyes, and the glassy stare that comes from too much coffee and too little sleep. Glimpsing himself in the mirror across from his desk, he found that he had the same look. Despite only having been in the environment for just a couple of months, it already had its claws in him.
Malcolm picked up his mug and nearly spit out the cold coffee. He tossed it into the trash can, and the liquid jumped up, splattering him in his face. He ripped two tissues from the box on his desk and dabbed at the coffee. He balled the tissues up and tossed them in the wastebasket.
He looked up when a sudden silence went over the bullpen. Tired looks had perked into overly eager smiles. Cody Hancock burst into the room and stopped at Malcolm’s door. He stopped so suddenly that his security detail nearly ran into him.
Malcolm decided it would be best to stand. He buttoned his jacket as he rose from his chair. He clasped his hands in front of him, not wanting to appear too urban.
“We received a threat this morning,” Hancock said.
Malcolm’s head snapped around. “From who? Should we be worried?” He picked up the phone. “I’ll get more security.”
“It’s fine. I know who did it,” Hancock said.
“Who?”
Hancock gestured for Malcolm to follow him, then turned and went to his office. Malcolm followed.
“Close the door.”
Hancock slipped out of his jacket, revealing the wet stains under his arms and collar. The wrinkles around his waist had come from repeatedly tucking it in and pulling it back out. Falling into his chair, he ran his fingers through his blond hair. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he threw it on the desk and let out a sigh.
“Late night?”
“You have no idea.” He unbuttoned his shirt. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Malcolm said. “What’s up?”
“Why are you still standing?”
Malcolm looked behind him, as if to be checking that a chair was actually there. Easing himself down, he crossed one leg over the other.
“What’s your definition of love?” Hancock asked.
“Being there for someone. Persuading them to better themselves. Taking care of her, or him, when they cannot take care of themselves.”
“Monogamy and love?” Hancock slipped his right arm out of its sleeve, repeating the process on the other side. His bare skin revealed the reason for the shirt’s multiple colors – no undershirt. “Mutually inclusive or exclusive?” Reading the confusion on Malcolm’s face, he pressed his fists into the desktop and stared into his eyes.
Malcolm, despite his best efforts, couldn’t ignore just how loose Hancock’s pecs hung. There was a slight swing. He was barely forty, but he looked at least twenty years older. The chair didn’t budge as he attempted to scoot back.
“Uh.” Malcolm averted his eyes. “Do you want the answer I would’ve given when I first got divorced or now?”
“I want the truth.” Hancock held onto the edge of the desk as he stepped out of his pants. “I hate the way wet clothes feel.”
Malcolm looked out at the bullpen. The staff was so used to Hancock’s striptease act that no one was paying attention. A younger woman caught Malcolm’s eye. Unlike her peers, she gave the file she was reading her complete attention. Her gaze remained steady while activity swirled around her. Deidra was one of the best associates. She looked up. She had smiled when someone dropped a foot high stack of files in the center of her desk.
