Bobby Sinatra: In All the Wrong Places (The Rags to Romance Series Book 1)

by Mallory Monroe

“What kind of problem? What about?”

  “Renita Hopson,” he says.

  Now I’m scared. Is she a Capecchi plant? Does she work for that asshole too? “What about Renita?” I ask him. My ass too scared to even unfold the paper.

  He looks around. “Can we talk? Are you alone?”

  “She’s here.”

  “Ah, man!”

  “But she’s asleep. What about her?”

  “Guess who her baby daddy is? Or was?”

  Her baby daddy? It’s about her fucking baby daddy? That all? Unless Capecchi’s her baby daddy! “Who?” I ask him.

  “Ty, Bobby,” Gerard says, and he says it with pain in his voice. “Tyrell Jenkins.”

  Now I’m floored. “What? She and Tyrell---”

  “But that’s not all,” Gerard says. “She was the woman who ran from that car the day Ty was killed.”

  “Ah, fuck! Don’t tell me that, Gerard.”

  “She’s the woman who had that baby in her arms. His name is Ayden, right?”

  “Right,” I say, still in a state of shock.

  “Then she’s the one. She’s the woman with the baby Dance shot.”

  Ayden got shot, she said to me. That’s why he’s got a limp. And my ass was thinking she meant recently. I didn’t ask for details, and she didn’t give me any. Damn!

  “She’s the woman who testified against Dance ass at his trial,” Gerard is still talking. “She didn’t recognize anybody else, but she knew Dance from around the neighborhood. We’re in trouble, Bob. This woman can do us so much damage. This woman can destroy our campaign and sink your reelection bid.”

  I look at him like he’s crazy. My reelection bid? Who gives a fuck about a reelection bid at a time like this? I just made the decision to give this woman my heart. I just moved her and her son into my building, a son my guys almost killed that day! And he’s talking about some fucking campaign?

  “I’ll talk to you later,” I say to him.

  “How are we gonna handle this, Bobby?”

  I look at him. And he knows that look. Get the fuck out, that’s the look.

  “I’ll call you later,” he says to me. “But, Bobby, we’ve got to handle this right. You can’t tell her anything yet. She probably doesn’t know you know anything about what happened that day. We’ve got to keep it that way until after the election.”

  I grab him by his shirt and sling him toward the door.

  “Alright, I’m leaving,” he says. He looks at me. He wants to say more. I can see the sadness in his eyes: he’s worried about me. But he’s worried about the campaign, too, and that’s the shit that’s making me angry. He leaves.

  And although I know what he said was true, and I know it makes perfect political sense not to bring this up to Rain until after the election, I’ll be damn if that’s going to happen. I was there the day her boyfriend got killed. I was there the day her son nearly lost his life. I was there on probably the worse day of her life. And Gerard wants me to hold that information until after some fucking election?

  I go to the bedroom, and sit on the edge of the bed.

  The weight I’m suddenly carrying must have been heavy, because this time, as soon as I sit on the bed, Rain opens her eyes. Her cat-like, bright, beautiful eyes. And she almost smiles when she first sees me, but then she realizes what she’s seeing.

  She must see the shock still in my eyes because she bunches the sheet around her breasts, covering herself, and sit up in bed with her back against the headboard. She looks as worried as I must look myself. “What’s wrong?” she asks me.

  I can’t say a word. Because I know what this means, I can’t say a word.

  But she knows something horrible has happened. “Bobby, what’s wrong?” she asks me again. “It’s not Ayden, is it? Ayden hasn’t been--”

  “No,” I say quickly. “He’s fine.”

  “Then please tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I just found out,” I say to her.

  “You just found out what?” she asks me.

  I know I have to just do it. For her sake, for Ayden’s sake, for my sake if I stand any chance at all to be with this woman still, I have to tell her. She can tell the media, and destroy me and my campaign just like Gerard said, but I still have to tell her. “I was there,” I finally say.

  Those words don’t mean squat to her, but she knows it mean something significant because her worried face doesn’t change. “You were where?”

  “In Boston. The day Tyrell got shot.”

  Her eyes get bigger. I took her to a place. A place she never dreamed she’d have to ever go back to. “You were there?”

  “Yes.” I’m nodding my head. This is some serious agony I’m in.

  “What do you mean you were there?”

  “I worked for this guy named Moby.”

  “Tyrell worked for Moby,” Rain says. “I never met him. But he used to talk about him all the time. You worked for Moby too?”

  “Yes. I was Tyrell’s boss.”

  Her eyes get bigger again. Now she’s just staring at me like she’s wondering who is this guy? Like she’s wondering what has she gotten herself into? And she doesn’t say another word. Not until I tell her more than I’ve told her so far.

  I tell her more, but only my thoughts are scattered. It was a day I’ve been trying to suppress for over a decade.

  “I stopped them,” I finally say to her. “They weren’t supposed to kill Tyrell. He owed the boss money, and it was my job to collect, but there was no way I was going to kill him over that shit. And my guys weren’t supposed to, either. They weren’t supposed to fire their weapons at all. But they did.”

  “And you were there?” It’s as if she still can’t believe it. “You were in that car?”

  But I shake my head real fast, as if the fact that I wasn’t in the car somehow gives me hope that she won’t hold the rest of that shit against me. “No, I wasn’t in that car,” I say to her. “I was in the car behind them. Rain, I would never,” I began saying to her as I touch her hand. But she snatches her hand away and put a stop to me trying to make myself look better.

  Tears are in her eyes. “They shot Ayden.”

  I’m nodding. “I know.”

  “You were there when they almost killed my baby.”

  I can’t even nod on that painful truth.

  But when I say nothing, that seems to spur her to action. She jumps out of bed and rush out of my bedroom.

  “Rain!”

  I follow her, but I’m no match for her speed. By the time I catch up with her, she’s in the living room, putting back on her pants.

  But her action spurs me on, as if I’ve got to defend myself now or there won’t be a later. Why I feel this way, and why it matters so much to me, might still be a reasonable question. On the surface, it is a reasonable question. But not to me. This lady is one lady I want in my life. I made that decision and I’m sticking by it. I want her. No matter what. “I was there,” I say to her desperately, “but I never participated in that attack. I never did shit to Ty. Rain, you’ve got to believe me.”

  But she’s putting on her blouse and heading for the door. I cut her off at the pass, but she pushes me away, and then starts hitting me.

  “He could have been killed!” she’s crying as she hits me. “He could have been killed!”

  Her licks don’t hurt at all, but that’s not the point. Her pain does. That’s why I grab her, and wrap her in my arms. She’s still fighting, but her energy has lowered.

  And I take the opportunity, again, to defend myself. “I swear to you, Renita,” I say to her, “I stopped them. They would have killed you and Ayden, too, if I wouldn’t have stopped them.”

  She’s sobbing uncontrollably, and now I’m not just holding her, but I’m holding her up. That’s how devastating this news is to her. It’s devastating to me, too. But it’s knocking the hell out of her.

  “This dude name Dance was the one who took Ty out. He’s the one who pulled that trigger
. And I took his ass out the other day.”

  She’s still crying, but then she looks up at me. “What?”

  “That drive-by I was in when I went to Boston. Dance was the one in that car. I had to take him out, and another one of his running partners.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “Yes. He’s dead.”

  But she’s still confused as hell. “You killed him because you knew what he did to us?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you said you just found out it was us.”

  “I did, Rain. I did just find out.”

  “Then why would he want to shoot you?”

  “Because I got out of that shit. I didn’t go down for those shootings. I wasn’t involved in any of that, Rain.”

  But I’m not convincing her at all because, suddenly, it’s as if she forgot that I’m the one holding her. She jerks away from me, opens the front door, and runs out of my condo like she’s escaping hell.

  Like she has no intentions of ever coming back.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “What happened?”

  “Get your things.” I’m back in the condo downstairs. I’m in Ayden’s room and I’m grabbing all of the clothes he’s already thrown out of his suitcase. He’s gotten comfortable just that fast.

  But he doesn’t know what’s going on. “What happened?” he asks me again.

  “Don’t worry about that. Just get your things. We’re leaving.”

  “And going where, Ma?”

  “Back to the motel.”

  I can see his entire face change. He hates the idea of going back there. “Why?”

  “Just get your things, boy, alright? I’m not telling you again.”

  “Tell me what happened. You’ve got to tell me.”

  Now I’m angry. “I don’t have to tell you shit!” I yell at him. Then I realize I’m taking my pain out on him. And it’s not his fault. None of it is his fault. I pull him into my arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

  It’s just that I was so hopeful. I was in Bobby’s bed. I was in his life. I thought me and Ayden had a real shot with him. But it was all a dream. All the same bullshit, just dressed up with a different bow.

  But Ayden’s not satisfied with a hug and a I’m sorry. He pulls back and look at me. “Why are we leaving? I have a right to know.”

  He does. But I hate telling him.

  “What is it, Ma? Just tell me,” he insists.

  And so, I do. I tell him. “The day you got shot,” I say to him with pain in my voice, “he was there.”

  He keeps staring at me. He’s not understanding. “Who was there?”

  “Bobby. Mr. Sinatra.”

  Now he gets it, and he’s looking as terrified as I’m sure I do. It breaks my heart. Why do I always pick the absolute wrong guy, and then drag my son into it? “Are you saying Mr. Sinatra shot me?” he asks me.

  “Oh, no, Ayden, no.” I know I need to be clearer. “He didn’t shoot you. But he was with the men that did.”

  He’s shocked now. “Mr. Sinatra was in that car?”

  “No. He says he wasn’t.”

  “But you don’t believe him?”

  “I didn’t see a white guy in that car. I would have remembered that. I believe him.”

  “Then how was he with them? You said they drove up on you and Pop.”

  “He was in the car behind the car that drove up on us.”

  “What did he do? He didn’t shoot me, but did he shoot my dad? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “No,” I’m saying again. “They’d already shot up the car when he got to them.”

  “Then what did he do, Ma?”

  When I first heard about it, I was certain Bobby had done something horrible just by being there. Now I’m not so sure. “He was there,” I say to Ayden as if it’s obvious what he did.

  “Yeah, but what did he do?”

  “He said he stopped them from shooting me,” I say, “or we both would have been killed. He said they wanted to shoot me, but he stopped them.”

  Ayden starts nodding his head. “Oh. So, that’s what happened,” he says to me.

  Now I’m the one confused. “What do you mean that’s what happened?”

  “You always told me it was a miracle they didn’t shoot you, too, or chase you into those woods. You always said it was a miracle. Mr. Sinatra is the miracle.”

  I’m staring at my son. And I’m amazed. “How can you look at it like that?” I ask him.

  “How else can I look at it?”

  “He was there, Ayden!”

  “So were we.”

  “But he was there on the wrong side!”

  “And we might be dead if he wasn’t, Ma. We might have been killed if he wasn’t. Maybe God had him there. For us.”

  What? What is he saying? How can he look at it like that? “What I’m trying to say to you,” I say to him. But I really don’t know what I’m saying. Then I realize what. “He ran with those kinds of people,” I say. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “You ran with my dad and he was those kinds of people too,” he says back at me. “And you had a baby by that kind of person. I don’t think Mr. Sinatra went that far.”

  This kid. This smart-ass kid of mine! But now my emotions are even more whacked. Because this smart-ass kid is making some sense. I was too hurt to see it myself. Out of the mouth of babes? “You don’t blame him?” I ask him, and I’m searching his eyes. How can he be so clear-headed about this? He was the one who got shot that day.

  But he has a question for me before he’ll answer mine. “Do you believe what he said? About stopping them from shooting us?”

  I think about it. He didn’t have to tell me he knew jack. He said he just found out, and he told me as soon as he found out. He looked as shocked as I was. He looked like he was stricken with pain when he told me.

  Besides, he’s still Bobby. He’s still the guy who helped us so much.

  Unless his help was a part of the scheme too.

  But what scheme?

  “Yes, I believe him,” I say to my son.

  “Then how can I blame him, Ma?” my son says to me. “How can you?”

  Now I get it too. I get what Ayden means. And I pull him into my arms again. Because he’s right. But that’s why he’s the only thing I ever got right.

  But then there’s knocks on the condo door. Me and Ayden look at each other. And it’s sad, but I can tell he’s hoping it’s Bobby.

  I head to the door, and he’s right on my heels, although I left Bobby’s apartment barefoot. My heels, along with my panties, are still on his living room floor. That’s how crazy this night is.

  And when I open the door, sure enough, it’s Bobby.

  And to say the man looks bad won’t cut it. He still looks stricken.

  “Don’t leave,” he says to me. Ayden moves from behind the door and look at him too. “I know you want to go back to that motel, and I don’t blame you. I know you want to be as far away from me as you can get. But I’ll leave the building if that’ll make you feel better. I won’t stay in my own condo tonight. But I don’t want you and Ayden going back to that motel. It’s not safe over there. Just don’t leave, Rain. For Ayden’s sake.”

  Then Ayden speaks up without even looking at me. “We won’t,” he says like he’s saying it for both of us. And I don’t dispute him either.

  Bobby looks at him. “She told you?” he asks.

  Ayden nods his head. “Yes, sir.”

  Bobby’s eyes are so full of regret. “I just found out that it was you, Ayden. I want you to know that I had no idea it was you, son, or your mother that day. I stopped them from shooting your mother. I swear to God that’s the truth. I never would have shot you, or your father, or your mother, or anybody over money. Because that’s all that was about. Money. I would have never done that. I would have never allowed that to happen. But I got there too late. When I rode up it was too late. I would have never--”

  He’
s frowning now, like he can’t finish that sentence. Then he looks at me. “You and Ayden are welcome to stay here for as long as you want to. Just don’t leave. Please.” Then he pauses again, and then exhales. “Rain, I’m sorry,” he says, and then he walks away.

  I close the door, but I don’t move from the door. I know Ayden’s staring at me, but I don’t even look his way either. Because as soon as Bobby walked away and I closed that door, something changed in me. And it was like I got it all wrong. It’s like I’m making some kind of mistake.

  “Ma?” Ayden asks me, like he sees something’s wrong with me too. “Ma, you okay?”

  What am I doing? Bobby didn’t kill Ty. He didn’t shoot Ayden. If it wasn’t for him that day, I probably would have been dead. It’s true it’s a miracle I’m still alive. He saved my life and I’m mad at him?

  What am I doing?

  It’s not like he knew I was the one and didn’t tell me. As soon as he found out, he told me. He didn’t have to do that. He could have kept that secret for the rest of our lives. But he didn’t do that.

  This man, who I was thinking was different than all the other men from my past, is different. And I’m giving that up? I’m going to lose the only chance at real happiness I’ve ever had because he ran with bad people? My ass ran with bad people too. And Ayden’s right. I topped Bobby because I didn’t just run with them. I had a baby by one!

  I open that door, and take off. I run. I run for Bobby!

  And Ayden’s all for it. I don’t see his face, but I hear his voice. “Run, Ma, run!” he’s yelling like I’m Forest Gump, but I hear him. And I’m running. I’m running down that hall as fast as I can.

  The doors to Bobby’s private elevator are opening, and he’s getting on it, just as I make it around the corner and up to the elevator. “Bobby!” I start yelling. I don’t care who I’m disturbing either. “Bobby. Bobby!”

  He had to have heard me calling him. I got up close enough for him to hear me. But he still let the doors close and take him away. Like he may not want me to leave the condo, but that doesn’t mean he still wants me to stay with him.

  It makes sense. Because it’s the taint. Maybe I’ll remind him of the man he used to be, and he doesn’t want that constant reminder. Or maybe he thinks I’ll be bad for his reelection, and he can’t have that. My baby daddy was a drug dealer. He was one, too, but he can’t possibly want voters to find that out. And Ayden will be that reminder too. Every time he drags that foot, he’ll be reminded of that life he left behind. Why would he want all of that kind of drama back in his life?