Deadly Saintes- The Complete Series, page 30
part #1 of Deadly Saintes Series
Lawrence’s phone vibrated against her. He cursed and looked at the screen. "I'm sorry, babe. I have to take this." He went into the hallway. “You alright?”
“I’m back in town. We need to meet.”
“I’m on the way.”
Brooklyn stirred her French fry in the puddle of ketchup before popping it into her mouth. She had been quiet. She wasn't happy with the progress on destroying the Saintes. She had been spending a lot of time with Santini. More important, she liked him, more she should have. She was a cop; he was a gangster. He worked with her brother. She should have run in the other direction, but he drew her like the proverbial moth to a flame. She wondered if she would get burned. In any case, her bosses wouldn't like their relationship. Trey wouldn't like it.
She rationalized with herself that she hadn't known Trey long; she didn’t know him that well. He shouldn’t have that much influence over her life, especially her love life. He hadn’t known her long enough to be protective of her. But no matter how many times she recited the lie, she couldn’t convince herself to accept it. Trey was in her life and he was protective of her.
Her smile at the epiphany caught his attention.
“She’s alive," he said.
She chuckled. “Sorry. My mind’s all over the place.” Looking up proved to be a mistake. As bad as she wanted to, she couldn’t look away. She started to tell him about Santini, then changed her mind. A man and his daughter were sitting two booths away, and she was listening to their conversation.
“I’m so proud of you, baby girl. You know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Thanks, Daddy. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
Brooklyn turned away as Trey reached to wipe her face. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Whose ass do I gotta beat?" Trey asked. His fingers curled into themselves, tightening until they formed fists.
What sprung from her chest was a mixture of laughter and a sigh of relief. “Nobody.” Leaning back, the family’s conversation grew louder. As she listened, she found that the man’s voice reminded of Titus’. How she longed to hear him say how much he loved her. It was the same longing that produced the need to avenge him, the hunger to see the Saintes burn. She forced her mind in that direction, back to the mission.
She dropped what remained of her burger into her mouth. “I got a gun and a badge. I can take care of myself. Been doing it for a while now. No need to worry.”
Trey grabbed her hand. “You’re not alone anymore. I got your back.”
“Dad told me not to trust anybody who says that.” The right side of her mouth cocked. “I don’t think that included family though.” She tightened her hand around his, looking back into his eyes. “Thanks bro.”
“No problem, sis.”
Brooklyn dunked another fry. "Good job on getting RJ out," she said. She looked around, then leaned forward. "You should have killed him," she whispered.
“I didn’t kill him, I apologized.”
She coughed as she tried to swallow the liquid in her throat. “What?”
He repeated the statement, not a muscle in his face moving. “I need them to think I trust them. That I want to work things out.”
“Don’t you need to earn their trust? I mean, you burned down a lot of their property.”
His face dropped. “The reason doesn’t matter. I need to get back in. The closer I am, the more I can find out what they’re planning.” He sucked soda through his straw. “What do you think?”
Trey proved himself to be a quick learner. M had taught him the importance of patience. The long game was key. Though it would take much more planning, it would be well worth the wait.
Trey sucked down some of his milkshake.“I’m going to apologize.”
Brooklyn fought to keep from spitting out her drink.
“I think we need to move before they find out who I am.” She checked her phone then stood, dropping a few bills on the counter for the meal. She pushed the money back into the center of the table after he slid it toward her. “You paid last time.”
“Don’t care. You don’t pay for anything when you’re with me.” After she wouldn’t take it, he stuffed it in her pocket. He stood and checked his own phone. He smiled at the heart emojis in the text. “Thanks for hooking me up with ya girl. She’s cool.”
“Maybe we can go on a double date.” She laughed when she saw his expression. He still wasn’t cool with her hanging out with the supplier. Pulling him into a hug, she said, “I can handle myself, don’t worry. This isn’t for my pleasure.” She kissed his cheek. “Love you, call you later.”
Trey opened the text again. He had been dishonest about the identity of the sender. Pressing the dial icon, he toyed with the money while listening the ringing. His throat tightened upon hearing her breathing. Though he was sure it was her, he said, “Hey Chanel.”
“Hey handsome. I miss you. Come see me.”
Reginald caught RJ looking at him on the drive back to the house. He could always tell the state of the family by his eldest child’s demeanor. RJ switched the hand that held the steering wheel. He would bob his head for a few seconds then stop. He chewed on his bottom lip.
Reginald sighed. “Something on your mind?”
“Nah.” RJ messed with the air conditioning. “Is it hot in here to you?” Rubbing the back of his neck, his hand was dry when he looked at it. He cracked the window only to let it back up.
Reginald squeezed his shoulder. “Talk, son.”
“Mad at myself. You shouldn’t have had to come back. I should be able to handle this on my own.”
“Even if I didn’t come back, you still wouldn’t be handling it on your own. You have your sister and Lawrence. It was hard for me to learn, but you need to trust people to help you. Especially family.” He felt RJ’s shoulder round as he let out a breath. “Now tell me what’s been going on.”
It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know. People were calling all day and night to inform him of the latest catastrophe. If he hadn’t been so busy with getting the farm up and running, he would have come back sooner. Reginald had time to think. There were parallels between his and RJ’s relationship and Titus and Trey’s. Both boys were looking for approval from their fathers. One, unfortunately, would be never be able to receive it.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
RJ’s head snapped in Reginald’s direction, his eyes wide.
“You’re doing a great job.”
The car crawled to a stop. RJ turned the car off. He kept his eyes on the dashboard. After a minute or so, he turned to look at his father. “Trey needs to hear that more than me.”
“Both of you need to hear it. Set up a meeting so I can tell him.” Reginald pushed his door open. Constance surprised him with a hug from behind as he was pulling his bags from the backseat. “Malcolm’s fine by the way. He’s been busy with the farm. You would be impressed.”
“There’s so much I need to tell you.” Her mouth moved at lightning speed.
“We can talk about all that after I eat and take a nap.” Reginald handed Lawrence one of the bags and followed him inside.
RJ joined Constance, leaning against the passenger door. “Something’s up with him.”
“Hopefully he didn’t have another baby without telling us.”
He slapped a cigarette out of the pack he produced. Cover the tip with his hand, he turned away from the wind as he lit it. A cloud lingered in front of him as he exhaled the smoke. “It’s about to get fun.”
Constance grunted. “You’re calling war fun. I knew you were batshit crazy.”
“You’re just now figuring that out?”
6
Trey pulled his pants up and pulled his shirt on. His belt jingled when he turned around, returning Chanel's smile. Sleeping with RJ’s soon to be ex wife was another way to get back at him. He smiled to himself, thinking of how RJ would react when he found out Trey was sleeping with his wife.
Laying back in the bed, he rested his hand in the small of her back after she laid her head on his chest.
“That was incredible,” she said. “Way better than my ex.” Trey didn't care that they were using each other. Not only did she want to hurt RJ, she wanted to hit his pockets. Her first shot died with Titus. With Trey being so young, it wouldn’t be hard to wrap him around her finger. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he would become her puppet. Just like his dad.
Trey's phone vibrated, and two word text flashed across the screen.
Call me.
“One of your other women?”
“I know you not jealous.” He had seen the signs of another man when he arrived. It didn’t bother him so long as the man didn’t show up while he was there.
“If I am?”
“Drop your hoes and I’ll drop mine,” he said. Sliding from underneath her, he pecked her lips before stepping into his shoes. “Can I see you later?”
“Do you have to ask?”
He kissed her again. “I’ll see you later.”
She was already in the bathroom, the shower running when he opened the front door. The ringing filled his car after his phone connected with the Bluetooth. He hung up after the voicemail answered. He had backed out of the parking spot when he something ran into his car. His face slammed against the steering wheel. There was no time for him to look back.
Someone snatched the driver's door open. Trey’s heels thumped into the ground. His arm punched through the air as the fist yanking his collar tugged him harder. His protests continued until they reached the inconspicuous SUV. He made it back to an upright position as the man went to open the back door. He ripped himself away, his wild swing catching the man in the nose.
“Shit.” Blood appeared through his fingers as he held his nose. “Son of a bitch.” He slammed Trey against the truck. “This doesn’t have to be that hard. Just get in the truck.”
“Fuck no. Who the fuck are you?” Trey picked up a stick, the twig snapping as he tightened his grip. Throwing it down, he picked up a rock. “I'm not going with you.”
The man ripped his handkerchief from his pocket. “We just want to talk.”
Trey assumed a defensive stance, his left foot leading, his left fist guarding his chin. Preparing to charge, the front door opening caught his attention.
An older woman peeked her head outside. She looked back and forth between the men, pushing her glasses further up her nose. Her sentence died out halfway to reaching them. Her hand gestures were difficult to discern. The door closed. She returned a moment later with a phone in her head. She pointed at it three times.
The attacker, hurriedly wiping the rest of the blood from his face. He slowed his jog to a walk as he approached the steps. “Me and my friend—“ he looked back at Trey–"just got into an argument. You know how boys are. Sometimes we have to fight it out. But we’re good now. Right Trey?”
Trey dropped the rock. “Right.”`
“We’re fine.”
“You’re bleeding pretty bad.” Her hand was soft against his face. She offered to clean him up, making sure she mentioned her sandwiches, which won first prize in the fair.
He gave her his information, using a fake name of course, and promised to come back to try them soon. After a loving hug, he jogged back to the SUV. “You can’t drive your car like that,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.
Feeling the woman’s eyes, Trey agreed. As he was starting his way to the vehicle, the door closed. Running back to his own, something hot rushed through the back of his leg, his cheek the first thing to hit the ground. The rest of his body went limp. He could do nothing but groan as he felt himself being dragged backward. The last thing he heard was the engine rumbling.
Trey was groggy when he woke up. The back of his pants stuck to his leg. He tried to stretch and realized he couldn't move his arms. The room was large and the air stale. His nostrils burned each time he inhaled. He wiggled his arms to relieve the strain on his shoulders. His knees fell to the sides, relieving the pain in his hips. He found his throat dry as he went to speak. Clearing it only made it burn.
He heard a door open behind him. Light spilled into the room.
He listened to the footsteps grow louder as they drew down on him. He didn't speak as cool hands untied the rope around his wrists. He twisted and massaged them. Someone untied his ankles. Standing, his feet and calves tingled. Shaking out the numbness, he noticed the silver tray. Ripping a corner off the sandwich, he chewed like a wolf working its way through ligament and bone. His pace was slow as he walked around the room. There weren’t many clues about his location. He was somewhere in the city, decrepit buildings staring back at him from the windows. Tripping in a hole in the concrete, he felt pain shoot up his leg. He tried to pull his pants up. Remembering that he was alone, he undid his belt.
“Muthafucka shot me.”
The door opened again. His attacker entered. “You done with this?”
“Did the old lady make it?”
“Are you done?”
“No.” Trey pulled his pants back up before limping back to the chair. “Can I get a Band Aid or something? And a phone call.”
The man tossed a towel and a compression bandage in his lap.
“No alcohol.”
The man’s steps bounced off the walls as he exited the room.”
“Somebody should teach you some manners.” The door slammed. “I know a guy,” Trey said, chuckling to himself. Once more, he pulled his pants down. He used the water from a nearby puddle to clean up the dried blood. He then pulled his leg to his chest, flexing his hamstring to apply pressure to the wound. After a few minutes, he wrapped himself up.
While finishing off the rest of the sandwich, Brooklyn came to mind. He was sure that she had called him. They talked at least twice a day. Sometimes about the Saintes, other times about random stuff that only they understood. Though their time together had been short, he felt like he had known her his whole life. He thought he was like Titus, she quickly dispelled that. He had his father's laugh, his sense of humor, and his mean streak. In all his life, he’d never met anyone with a temper shorter than his. He recalled what he told her about not being alone. Staring at the darkness that surrounding him, he realized he wasn’t alone anymore either. The thought made him relax into the chair. He chewed on the sandwich. I was good. It hadn't come off the rack of a gas station.
He had dozed when the door opened. His eyes blinked rapidly as three bright lights shone. He shook his head to escape them.
“You’re not restrained.”
Looking up, he watched Reginald pull a chair in front of him. It took all his energy to pull himself out of his slumped state.
Reginald sat across from him. He didn’t speak for some time. What he felt wasn't quite anger. Perhaps frustration. Since being back, he was able to learn the true extent of the damage that his de facto son had caused. The money wasn’t his main concern, rather the precedent that had been set. Nature can't stand a vacuum. The drug game tolerated it even less. He had been doing damage control since he returned. Too many of his competitors underestimated his only daughter.
“When you get back?”
“Not soon enough to stop you from doing what you did.”
“You would have did the same thing,” Trey said. “RJ would have done the same thing.”
“His sister would have stopped him.”
Trey opened his mouth, then closed it. He remembered he needed to conceal Brooklyn’s identity for as long as possible. “Can I call someone?”
“After we’re done. Right now, I need your full undivided attention.” Reginald sighed. "I'm tired of all this shit. I haven’t been able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time because of the nonstop calls." He removed a sheet of paper from his back pocket. He straightened it on his thigh before handing it over.
“What’s this?”
“A ledger of all my expenses. You want to be the man, then you need to know what it costs.”
“$500,000?”
“For a month,” Reginald said. “It’ll probably triple because of you.” He locked his eyes on Trey's. “I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”
“Then why did you bring me here? You could’ve called, Unc.”
The term struck a chord in Reginald’s chest. He couldn’t help but feel that he had let Trey down. Despite not being directly involved with Titus’ killing, he didn’t do anything to stop it.
“You weren’t even at his funeral,” Trey said. “I know you got an excuse. You always do.”
“I should have been there for him. And for you.” He held Trey’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
Trey slapped his hand away, biting his bottom lip to keep the tears from falling. Reginald was the only other man he looked up to. He considered him more of a second father than an uncle. “Malcolm killed him.”
“What?”
“I’m asking you. Did Malcolm kill him? I got some people with their ears to the streets. Malcolm and Lawrence were at the club that night. They were there when he, Pop, died. I asked RJ and Constance and Lawrence, but I know they won’t tell me the truth.”
“He had nothing to do with it,” Reginald insisted.
Trey scoffed, standing. He walked back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He heard a ringtone come from Reginald’s pocket and recognized it as his own. “Who is it?”
“Someone named Brooklyn. Do you want to take it?”
He hesitated. “Nah.” Sitting back down, he said, “What is this really about? You didn’t put all this time and effort into getting me here just to apologize. Like I said, you coulda called for that.”
Reginald smoothed down his new facial hair. He scratched the stubble.. “We need to come to a solution. There are only two ways this can end. We come together like the noble men we are or we go to war.”
Trey didn’t blink. He was ready for war. He had been prepared to do whatever it took to get the job done. He recalled his father’s last words.
