The Crazy Rich Davenports Box Set, page 48
I wish I had my fighting wig on because I would like to punch this bitch straight in the face. Maybe I’ll have Vinny call his guy. What Lucy doesn’t know won’t hurt her, but if I bow down to this lady, we’re all homeless.
“The Davenports are getting this property after my daughter marries Cash, why would you want it? Aren’t you in cahoots with them getting the deed?”
“My parents and the Davenports have an agreement that I don’t always see eye-to-eye with. I want the deed in my name by Friday morning, or I reveal evidence that will land your family in more trouble than giving up a home.” She knows about Mr. Tutu. “Do you understand, Eleanor?”
“I understand you’re one crazy bitch.”
She steps back. “With that sweetness, I’m sure you’ll be able to sway your daughter into signing it over to me.”
Or I’ll have Vinny’s guy off her.
“I’ll be in touch.” Her expensive designer shoes tap across the marble as she leaves.
“Shit!” I yell once the door is closed. “Motherfucking, son of a goddamn bitch.”
“Mother, what is it?” Lucy comes out yelling.
“Well, your husband’s ex-wife knows about Mr. Tutu and is threatening to turn over evidence to the police unless we hand her the deed come Monday morning.”
Lucy’s mouth drops open as Vinny walks around her. “I know a guy,” he says.
I snap my fingers at him. “You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea now does it, Lucy?”
She says nothing.
“But you got rid of Mr. Tutu, right?” Cash asks Vinny.
“My guy did.”
“So there’s no evidence.” Cash looks around at each of us. “She has nothing that can prove anything.”
“How does she even know?” Lucy asks. “Are we being recorded?” Her eyes scan the foyer. “Have your parents been watching us?”
“I know a guy who can do a sweep,” Vinny says.
Lucy points at him. “Phone that guy and get him in here ASAP.”
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing Daisy’s name flashing on the screen.
“Who is this?” It could be Daisy, Tommy, or Slutty Pepper.
“Daisy. Eleanor, Max has been arrested.”
Double shit.
Chapter 10
Daisy/Tommy/Slutty Pepper
I PACE THE police station, waiting for Yaya to arrive. I’ve bribed the children with my phone and YouTube, so they’re distracted for the time being. But me, I can’t settle down. First and foremost, Pops is in jail because of me—and Yaya, she snuck the drugs into his trousers. Secondly, my sister died? When we were young? How do I not remember this?
“And why have you two been keeping this from me?” I inwardly scold Tommy and Slutty Pepper.
“You don’t tell us everything,” Tommy says.
“That’s not a good excuse. I’ve been thinking my sister is alive! And you both knew she was dead!”
My insides are shaking with such anger that I can’t even listen to their excuses. I shut them out completely and look at the clock.
Where is Yaya? I phoned her a half hour ago. What could be so important that she didn’t drive straight here?
“Howard? Howard?” Yaya’s voice echoes through the waiting room. Thank god.
I meet her, and she looks frazzled, even wearing the sophisticated suit. I love her wig. “What happened?”
I give her a quick rundown on the dogs sniffing Pops out at the jail. I purposely leave out the fact my sister, the one I’ve been referring to for years is actually dead and not in jail and Tommy and Slutty Pepper have been conversing with a complete stranger.
“Howard!” She stops at the counter, and the curly-haired officer smiles at her. “Listen here, ginger, I’m Eleanor Miller, and I’m here to pick up my husband—”
“I should’ve figured all the ruckus was you.” Howard walks around the corner.
“What are you doing arresting my husband?” she demands, clamping her hands on her thick hips.
Howard takes her by the arm and walks away from the curly-haired man. I follow, glancing at the littles who are engrossed in a video that has them giggling.
“I didn’t arrest him. One of my guys did.”
Yaya yanks her hand away. “For possessing something you all steal from the evidence room?” Her voice hikes up again, and he grasps her arm and pulls her further away.
“Shhhh. Listen, we’re not pressing charges.”
“I would hope not. The stories I could tell of this place and what happens behind closed doors.”
“They’re preparing to release him now, but please, next time you visit a jail, remove all traces of drugs. Any kind.”
“Next time I visit a jail it’ll be from the inside.”
He lets her go and straightens his uniform. “I don’t doubt that. He’ll be right out. Please don’t make my staff cry.” He nods at me. “Have a nice day.”
I cringe as Yaya watches the cop’s backside as he walks away. “Damn, Howard always did have a nice ass.” She shivers before she looks at me. Her eyes stop at my cast. “What happened to you?”
“Your grandson decided to play X-Men from the giant skeleton at the museum.”
Her eyes show true concern that’s rare in Yaya. “Not the—”
“Yes. And I caught him.” I hold my cast up. “The wrong way.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m sorry.”
I hear Pops’s voice and turn with Yaya to face him. I’m always surprised at how calm and rational Pops is compared to Yaya. She’s standing beside me looking ready to punch someone in the face for arresting her husband, while the man himself is having a casual conversation with the officer Yaya referred to as Howard.
We all load into Yaya’s car. I’m wedged between Bets and Bryant who didn’t get out nearly enough energy this morning. Fists fly, voices hike, and there’s even crying. My whirling mind can barely focus on them when I’m anxious to get to my computer, which is exactly what I want to do when we get home. I give half smiles to Yaya and Pops, and try to make my escape.
“Daisy?” Pops says. “Pull up that video for Eleanor.”
I forgot about the tape. My shaking hand takes out my cell phone, and the old couple stands on each side of me, and once again I’m wedged. I juggle the phone in my wrapped hand and press play with my free hand, taking deep breaths to stay in control.
Yaya gasps at the video. “Those bitches.” She recognizes Gretchen and Imogene running in the yard during the night of the séance. She taps my screen. “This is not good. I thought they were referring to Mr. Tutu, but they’re talking about Sarah.”
“They were here?”
“When Daisy called me.” She looks at Pops with a face as serious as her outfit. “They want the house, and if they don’t have the deed signed over in their name by Friday, they will expose our knowledge of Sarah and eliminate any chance Lucy and Cash have of blackmailing them.”
“Shit.” It’s the first time I’ve heard Pops curse.
“Go watch the littles while I talk to Lucy,” Yaya says.
Pops touches her arm. “Let me talk to her. You two always heighten a conversation. Let me tell her our options.”
Yaya frowns and looks ready to fight before she nods solemnly.
This is my chance to leave. I boot it straight up to my bedroom and lock the door. I never lock the door, but today I need my space. I feel Tommy freaking out inside, overhearing our latest situation, and my ability to keep them under control is waning.
I sit at my desk and lift my laptop screen while my heavy arm rests on my lap.
“Don’t do it,” Tommy says. “You’ll only cause yourself more grief.”
I don’t listen, needing to know what my past is. I search my name, my sister’s, my parents’. I search deaths and possible causes of death, fire, car crashes until my head is spinning. It’s harder than one thinks to search your past, at least it is for me, but I tend to stay away from the Internet.
I find my answers and Tommy’s right; I don’t want to know. Pain floods through my blood, into every crevice of my body and soul.
I stand and my chair thuds as I knock it over. My mind’s swirling as I register my sister’s death— blunt trauma to the head. My dad was charged but not convicted because there wasn’t enough evidence. I don’t remember him. I don’t remember my sister, but a flash of memory gives me a reflection of myself but with lighter hair. Is that her? What about my mom? Who is she? Where is she? I’ve been alone as long as I can recall.
My vision blurs.
“She’s going down!” I hear Slutty Pepper yell. “Catch her, Tommy!”
My knees scrape the floor, but just in time, I take over, and we don’t collapse on the floor.
“Thank god.” Slutty Pepper falls back onto her chair, but Daisy is nowhere to be seen. She’s shut down. “Tommy, what are we going to do?”
“You know what we have to do, Pepper.”
Her eyes widen. “No, we can’t. What if it”— she looks around—“brings ‘the one we don’t speak of’ to the surface?”
I unzip Daisy’s dress and shrug out of the skimpy thing. “We can’t let that happen, but we need Ford’s help.”
“Ford? He doesn’t even like us right now. In fact, I think he hates us. Not think, he does. He hates us. Especially you. Because you have a cock. And you’re cocky. You’re a cocky cock he can’t stand.” She’s laughing at her jokes.
I start to put my camo pants on, but she’s right. “All right, what would you wear?”
“Yay!” She jumps from the chair. “Go to my side of the closet.” I listen. “And rummage through there…” I’m moving pieces of skimpy material she calls clothes when she hems and haws in my head. “That one! The black halter dress.”
I hold it up, and the middle is missing “There’s no stomach.”
“Put it on.”
I grumble while pulling it over my head. I have a hard time getting it around my wide shoulders when Slutty Pepper is so petite.
She’s squealing with excitement. “And I thought today was going to be boring.”
Chapter 11
Ford
MY HEAD IS throbbing from staring at the books. Grandfather has this laundering money down to an art, and I think he’s pissed that my dad somehow outsmarted him. From what I can tell, Dad stole seventy million dollars from the Gambino family, and they’re holding my grandfather responsible for the missing monies.
The real question is, why did he steal the money? We have plenty…unless…he lost it all in the business with his father. Grandpa does love to gamble, so it’s a possibility. Bad investments? I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, and I bet it’s in that ledger.
I’ve had enough of him lurking over my shoulder today. I can’t snoop with him watching me. I throw the pencil on the desk and get up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks as he puffs on his expensive cigar.
Yaya needs to look at stealing them from him, and I bet the resale would be enough to feed our family for an entire month. “I’m going to get a bottle of water if that’s okay with you.” I’m not really asking his permission.
“Yeah, well don’t be gone too long. We have a lot of work to do. Once you’ve looked over all the books and have a good handle on the way we do business, I’m going to teach you your first lesson on how to wash money.” He rests back in his chair, and it squeaks.
I’m sure it can’t be that hard if this idiot can do it. The real trick was whatever my dad pulled over on him. I mock salute him before I leave the office. I hustle to my studio apartment on the third floor.
It pisses me off that Dad had this place and never told Mom about it, but I think it was his way of keeping the business away from the family. It makes me wonder if all those times he claimed to be out of the country if he was sitting on this suede brown couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. Maybe even enjoying a cigar with his dad as he devised a plan to screw him.
I take the ledger off the bookshelf that’s filled with my dad’s books on business. Yaya always says to hide things in plain sight where people would normally look.
Instead of starting at the beginning like I’ve done a hundred times, I open it to the middle. I sure as shit wish Evan remembered their code. I skim through the pages, and it all looks the same until I get near the end. There is a name written, and it’s not in code. “Sawyer.” I don’t know if that’s a last name or a first name, but it’s written several times on the last couple of pages. Actually, it’s the last entry in the book with ten million written in red beside it.
“Damn it, Dad!” I raise my arm to throw the book across the room, and an envelope falls out into my lap. I recognize my name written in my dad’s handwriting.
The flap is tucked inside, and I pull it open.
* * *
Ford,
Good man for finding this, I knew you’d eventually get the safe open. I guess you’ve figured by now, that the only person that can read this is Evan. None of my colleagues would know this and could never hold it over my family’s head. Your grandfather doesn’t know either.
Don’t let Evan tell you she doesn’t know how to read it, she does. She and I’ve written each other little notes in code for years. I tucked them in her lunchbox or backpack, sometimes just telling her to have a nice day. She and I had a special bond and I’m sure she’s missing me. She’ll refuse to read it, thinking that she’s betraying me.
Show her this letter or don’t. It doesn’t matter. You have to bond with her. She needs a strong man in her life to hold her hand. She acts big and brave, but she’s really not. She’s scared a lot. The kids at school aren’t always kind to her and she’s going to do things to seek attention and she needs guidance and reassurance that she’s loved.
Do your job and be her big brother. Once she trusts you, she’ll read this journal like it’s a song.
Once you know what’s in here, you’ll have all the answers you need to stop your grandfather and the Gambino family. Just be careful who you trust. I know Cash can come across as a pretty boy with attitude, but you can trust him and so can your mom.
I’m sorry I’ve left this on your shoulders, Ford.
Dad
* * *
Just Dad. Not love you, Dad; miss you son; fuck you, Ford…nothing but Dad.
I ball the note up in my fist and throw it in the wire trash can by my bed. I’m fucking angry that he left me to handle his shit.
The bed creaks as I fall back onto it. “Evan,” I mutter to myself. “Why did I not know any of this?” I haven’t been a very good brother to her. I’ve been too busy being a selfish bastard only thinking of my needs.
“Ford! You in there?” Grandfather’s baritone voice and pounding on the door has me scrambling to get the ledger back in its place. I snatch up the envelope with my name on it and stuff it into my back pocket.
“I’ll be out in a minute!”
The doorknob jiggles. “Let me in!”
Shit. I take one more look around to make sure nothing else is out of place. The only thing in the trash is the letter, but that doesn’t look suspicious.
I open the door, and he nearly falls inside rushing in. “What are you doing up here?” He looks around the room.
“Masturbating.” I lean my arm on the doorframe.
He seems to ignore my comment as he stalks around my apartment, looking for something. He turns back toward me with one hand in his khaki pants pocket, and the other one he lifts to look at his watch.
“You need to be quicker next time. You can’t masturbate on company time.”
I walk out into the hallway. “You’re just jealous that I’ve come four times in the thirty minutes I was gone. You’d still be trying to get it up.”
He juts his jaw out and walks by me. “Asshole.”
I laugh and lock the door behind me.
Chapter 12
Erik
“EVAN.” I CRACK open her door because I’m not too fond of the idea of walking in on my twin sister doing god knows what. There may be titties out, and I don’t need to see those. Well, I do…just not hers.
“What?” She’s lying on her bed listening to music. She sits straight up when she gets a good look at me. “Why are dressed like that?”
I have on all black including a hoodie, and my face is smeared with black paint. “Because you and I are going to the strip club, and then we’re going to our grandparents’ house.
“I thought we decided to wait on the ledger?”
“You did, and I decided we can use all the ammo we can get in case our grandparents are good at covering their tracks. There may not be anything at their house to give us a clue as to what happened to Frankie…I mean Aunt Sarah.”
“But we can get info out of the ledger…I get it.” She’s up on her feet and grabs her backpack. “Ready.”
“Not dressed like that. They’ll think you’re one of the strippers in those Daisy Duke shorts, see-through shirt, and red bra.” I cover my eyes. “Think all black.”
“I can do that.” I hear her drawers opening and closing.
“Think, no skin showing,” I add.
“Um, that I’m not so sure I can do.” She snaps her fingers. “Daisy always has a lot of black because Tommy makes her buy it so he can hide from the zombies.” She rushes by me. I lower my hand and follow her to Daisy’s room.
“She never locks her door,” she says, swinging it open.
I feel the coolness of death when I walk into her room. “Damn, I thought Frankie lived in Bets’s room?”
“It does feel eerie in here,” she remarks, but dives into Daisy’s closet and comes out holding an all-black one-piece catsuit.
