No Honor Amongst Thieves

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No Honor Amongst Thieves Page 13

by Brick


  On our way to my office, I grabbed some wine with glasses in tow, then found a seat. “Damn, that’s really disappointing that you’re going through that, Leo. I mean, shit. If I knew that there was a specific problem dealing with me that was leaking over to you, I would have effectively cleaned that up with no problem. Considering that it’s my problem.”

  As I poured Leo a glass, I watched how his body language tensed at my words. Yeah, he knew what the fuck I was meaning. It’s the same thing that would happen to him if he pressed me wrong.

  Quickly throwing my hands up, I gave a light nervous laugh while inside I wasn’t giving a damn about his feelings. “I’d never jeopardize my work with you, fam, not at all. I appreciate everything that has come my way and want to keep it smooth.”

  Some of that was true. I continued to work with Leo for his father’s sake since my contract was with the elder and not the junior. Leo could order me around as much as he wanted, but he knew I always had my own will in doing things because it was my gun being used for his purpose.

  “I want to be clear here. I’m keeping my distance, but I still am on an honor code with our mutual friend. I said nothing about the threat you made to him. I mean, he should know better. I extended you out on good faith that he’d respect your place there in front of him; however, you know how fathers can be.” Leo smirked, then shook his head. “My bad, you don’t. But let me make it clear since you’ve backed away from working with him. . . . Don’t mess up my work, Marcel.”

  Listening to him, I wanted to be like, nigga, please, but I kept it cool. In the political world as an aide, this was just how it worked. Every aide started at the bottom and earned their due to rise up to one day sit where Leo was. For me, I was using it differently as Senior Giulio taught me. As I rose to be a director for Leo, it was my main goal to make connects so that I could continue in cleaning up the politicians’ dirty lives, or, occasionally, kill for them. By doing so in the process, I would make some good dimes and garner protection if anything ever popped off.

  No politician wanted their dirty secrets out, and I was known for collecting a lot of those.

  Now, Leo was sitting across from me, lecturing me, because I wouldn’t kiss Sabrina’s father’s ass or fondle his nuts sac? And because he was on some ego shit trying to exert his power over me? Nigga, fuck outta here. He had no power over me; only his father did in the sense that I felt like I owed the old fart. That’s it.

  That’s why I sat watching this fool flap his mouth with a concerned look on my face when I really couldn’t give a damn. Sabrina was with me, and we were building a family. It was no longer her pappy’s business—or Leo’s.

  “Not sure what you want me to do about it considering this is my private life, and it’s off-limits,” I said without a flicker of emotion in my voice.

  I just sat there calmly with my fingers pressed to my mouth acting as if I cared about what Leo said. See, let me be clear. I don’t hate this nigga; I just hate the fact that he thinks that I cared about anything he had to say. I didn’t. He was cool for the occasional laughs, but once he got on his entitlement shit, I always felt since day one that he could kick rocks, and that’s what I needed him to do as he spoke.

  His old man was better to me. The old man was honest in his ways, all of them, but his son was a leech who didn’t know shit about being a true criminal mastermind. Oh well, not my problem. I had no desire to be a criminal in that sense, so I never worried myself about it.

  Leo gave another sharp laugh, then downed his wine. “Give an olive branch and show the old ass some respect. You owe me.”

  “Naw, I don’t. But yeah, I did, and he showed me his saggy balls and rancid ass. I’m good on that. It’s his bad if he fucks up the network. Period. Besides, I’m pretty sure one day he’ll need my services, and when he calls me and realizes who the fuck he’s calling, all that mouth of his will simmer down.” I slowly stood as I said that, then recorked the wine. “This is yours as a gift as you leave. Enjoy it. It came from Naples.”

  I watched Leo as he smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt as he stood.

  “If my pops snapped his fingers and told you to jump, you’d jump,” he said with a hint of saltiness in his tone.

  “Yeah, I would, but that’s between us and not you. No disrespect, friend,” I added, not even phased by his sudden spoiled tone.

  I could tell that Leo hated me saying no to him, but fuck it. It was a new day and a new life for me. I was free contract now, and he didn’t pull my reins anymore. Nigga will have to accept it, no matter how much he wanted me to feel his wrath. He knew that I still was working as his aide and bumping him up, so he needed to be grateful for that.

  He reached for the bottle and whispered low, “We have a situation that will need your touch. It’s been awhile, right?”

  Nodding, I headed to the door and opened it, waiting for him to pass through. “Have a good day, Leo. I’ll be calling the old man soon for an invite to the grand reopening.”

  This nigga always insisted on talking about my work as a professional killer. I didn’t know what his fucking disconnect was, but if he didn’t chill, I’d have to go reach down and rip his flapping tongue out. I’d be gentle, though. Make him suffer only a little out of respect toward his father. As he passed me, I gave a smile and followed him out.

  I meant what I said. No criminal work was going to happen here, and Leo needed to respect that. After he left, and an hour later, I left my restaurant and finally received a call the right way. This kill was going to take some time to orchestrate right, but I planned on handling it; however, at that moment, I had to meet up with Sabrina and take care of this doctor’s appointment. We had our child to check on, and I was pretty much excited about it as always.

  Everything with the doctor was smooth and together. Sabrina and I were chilling, having lunch together, going back and forth about whether I saw a penis on the ultrasound even though it was too soon. Our food was being served while we laughed about it.

  “I’m telling you, we are having a girl. That was her waving at you, no little ding-dong, okay, baby?” Sabrina said flashing her teeth while she laughed.

  Her words had me smirking and shaking my head. “Naw, was a strong arm just like his pops. We’re having a boy, baby, accept it. I’m getting the matching kicks and shirts already, just watch.”

  “Giulio Aide Director Marcel Raymond, what a joy to always see you, young man,” I heard loud and clear behind me.

  I slide back in my chair to stand and take the hand of our current district attorney. “Mr. Jackson, what a nice surprise to see you in here as well. What brings you in for lunch?”

  “This is one of my favorite spots with my wife. We enjoy the seared Ahi Tuna. We were on our way out when I noticed you with company. This beautiful gem must be your fiancée?” I watched Kevon Jackson saunter his old ass next to Sabrina.

  On some real shit, this old head was nosy, and I knew he was trying to fish out my relationship with Sabrina because it was known in the circuit that I was single and a good aide. The fact that he called her fiancée had me choking up because that was a bold title to make when meeting a woman for the first time. However, I knew that this was just how some old people were. Quick to play matchmaker.

  Anyway, this old geezer was a big deal around ATL. Sharp when it came to the law, and he was known for his eccentric personality, nosy ways, and uncouth mentality. In other words, he didn’t give a shit about manners. He just did him, and he was unapologetic about it. Chilling at a healthy 60 years old, Kevon was a former linebacker-turned-lawyer who worked in the streets of Atlanta cleaning it up and aiming to bring safe communities to the black population here, then eventually to other minority populations. He was a popular DA due to his philanthropy and no-care views on what’s right and what’s wrong. He was also a damn good connect, one I hoped to have on my side.

  But, outside of that, he had me tripping because he was a touchy-feely type of dude when it came to attract
ive women.

  Like right now, he was drooling over my girl as he pawed at her hand. It annoyed the shit out of me as I plastered a smile on my face. “Ah, well . . .”

  “Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Sabrina smoothly interrupted.

  I guess she realized that I was stumbling over the fact that he had called her my fiancée. It was my bad, and I knew that I’d have to make it up to her.

  Acting like the pro she was, Sabrina pushed back from the table to get a more comfortable position as she shook the old man’s hand. “I’m Sabrina Lanfair. I’ve seen your face everywhere, sir. I’m honored.”

  “Lanfair . . . Lanfair,” Kevon mouthed aloud as if trying to piece together some puzzle.

  Mentally shaking my head, I frowned at this old dude as he was standing there trying to determine if she was related to the only damn Lanfair around. Thank God for his crazy-ass brain. We didn’t need the questions.

  Signaling to Sabrina that I was going to usher him on, I immediately rested a hand on the old man’s shoulder and chuckled. “Sir, what can I help you with today?”

  Walking with him, he glanced back at Sabrina, then moved closer to me. DA Jackson and I had met each other through the many multiple campaign parties and soirées that had been going on. My connection with him was new, but from how close he was to me, and the rumors that had been going around about issues he was having with his son, Naveen, I could sense that he had some business that he wanted to do with me.

  “Is it true that you have networks that help with ‘delicate’ situations in the matter of cleaning?” he whispered low.

  As soon as we rounded a corner, I moved out of his hold and clasped his hand. “Mr. Jackson, it is a pleasant honor to have run into you here. Thank you for the invitation to dinner. My fiancée and I will RSVP as soon as possible. If any changes occur, you have my contact information. Have a wonderful day, sir.”

  DA Kevon watched in surprise. I leaned forward, gave him a respectable hug, and muttered, “All I know is you call—set your request there, and never speak to me in public about something you were referred to me about. Nod if you understand.”

  For now, he had one pass from me to do this in public. It was clear that my name was reaching the right connects. I just had to make sure always to spin it in a way to keep myself clear of bullshit. Which is why I enjoyed politics. You learn so much from the real deal criminals in our government.

  Stepping back from our hug, the old man made a grand show. He nodded, laughed, and squeezed my shoulder. “Dinner, don’t miss it, please. My wife makes the best short ribs around Atlanta. Keep up the good work, son. Soon, I may be casting my vote your way.”

  Chuckling with him, I shook his hand again, then walked back to the table where Sabrina sat. I gave her face that let her know that I had handled it and sat down.

  “Sorry, baby, just an old man looking for an escape clause,” I said, reaching for my glass.

  I saw that Sabrina was mean mugging me but not saying a thing. I figured that it had to be because I hadn’t addressed her appropriately when the DA asked if she was my fiancée or not and because she had to introduce herself. I wasn’t sure how to smooth it out, but I figured that I’d try.

  “Baby,” I started.

  “You didn’t have to not introduce me. That was disrespectful of you, especially when he called me your fiancée. I get that we aren’t a clear couple but . . .” she started, then pointed to her stomach.

  On some real shit, the nigga in me wanted to act up and ask her why she was tripping, but I kept that in close check. Since being pregnant, I learned that when Sabrina was pissed off, she could cut a nigga’s throat cleanly with her words without even lifting her voice, and right now, that was what was happening as I sat there with a bored expression.

  “And how are you just going to sit there and look at me like that, huh? I don’t mean anything to you, for real? I get it,” she said.

  Scratching my head, I leaned forward and spoke low. “Pick up that glass to the right of you, baby. Do me that one solid.”

  “Why? What glass? Really, Marcel,” she said reaching over to grab her full water glass.

  Under it was a circular card. “Lift the card.”

  I watched her flip it carelessly with an attitude, then gasp.

  “That’s why I did what I did. He was busting me out before I could even ask you, baby. I’m sorry and please forgive me,” I said enjoying the shock on her face.

  “You’re not joking right now, are you?” Sabrina asked while she waved her hands.

  “Nope.” Reaching over, I picked up the radiant cut sparkling diamond ring I had custom made for her, and as she sat in her chair shocked, I simply asked, “So, will you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sabrina

  I took a deep breath as I stood outside my father’s door. I hadn’t seen him since before Christmas. He knew I was pregnant; I was sure of that. Marcel had confirmed it for me. And now that I was getting married, I wanted to see if I could extend an olive branch to him. Marcel didn’t care one way or the other. He wasn’t in the business of “kissing ass,” as he called it. His words stung a bit because I didn’t see it as me trying to kiss my father’s ass.

  I simply wanted him and the man I loved to come to terms. I had no doubt Daddy loved me. The night I told him I was in love with Marcel, I’d like to chalk it up to the fact he had been drinking and hadn’t been thinking clearly. Marcel thought otherwise. He told me that my father disrespecting him was one thing, but to put his hands on me and disrespect me was another. I’d come to find out over the time he and I had been together that often when Marcel said something, he meant it, my hurt feelings be damned.

  Don’t get me wrong; he cared about my feelings. But he was a man of honor and pride. He would never tolerate me being disrespected by anyone. Still, I wanted to see my father. I had hoped that he had missed me just as much as I had missed him. We’d had a good relationship before our falling out. I missed the way I used to be able to laugh and talk with him. In my dreams, I imagined the man I married would get along with my father, and they both would protect me with their lives.

  I had no doubts that Marcel would battle the devil for me, but I did doubt my father would as long as Marcel was in my life.

  “If you feel like this is what you need to do, Brina, then go on. But stop asking me to go with you. I’m not going. Othello doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own. Your old man wants to talk to me . . . He knows where to find me,” Marcel told me as he got dressed to head out to the bistro.

  He was dressed in dark gray dress slacks, black dress shoes that had been spit shined to perfection, and a slim fit dress shirt that complemented his aesthetics. Marcel always looked damn good no matter what he wore. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes or my hands off of him. As he took the time to place the Movado watch on his arm, I watched him.

  “Baby, please. I just want . . . I just want you two to try to talk again. Daddy had been drinking—”

  “Fuck your father, to be honest,” he said as he stared at me, a cold gaze in his eyes that told me there might have been more to his dislike of my father at this point.

  Marcel didn’t blink as he said those words to me. His eyes never left mine. At that point, I knew it was useless to keep trying to convince him to come with me. I threw the covers back and got up. The roundness of my stomach could be seen through the big tee shirt I had on. I always wore one of Marcel’s tee shirts to bed. I tried not to show my displeasure with the fact he wasn’t willing to try to work on the relationship between him and my father. But I knew he could tell I was pissed.

  He stood in the doorway of the bathroom while I brushed my teeth, arms folded making the muscles in his chest and arms more defined.

  “If you’re going to be mad at me, be mad about some shit that I’ve done to you personally. Don’t give me shit because I don’t want to do what you feel I should. Your attitude is baffling, especially since it’s your father
you should be giving the cold shoulder. But I digress,” he said.

  Marcel walked behind me, placed his hands on my hips, then kissed the place on the back of my neck that he always did. I knew he did that on purpose. Anytime I was mad, and he touched or kissed me, my whole mood softened. He stood there and watched me through the mirror for a few more seconds. We always played the stare down game. Not sure if it was a way for us to air out our grievances without using words or another form of foreplay for us. Either way, I knew if he didn’t remove his hands or leave soon, I’d be trying to figure out how I went from being mad at him to having him deep inside of me. He knew it too, which was probably why he gave a slick smirk before he turned to leave.

  Once he was gone, I got dressed quickly. Pulled on a pair of comfortable dress slacks and a red blouse that had a little flare over the belly area. I slid my feet into a pair of four-inch black pumps, grabbed a sweater, and headed out. Didn’t take me long to get to Daddy’s house in the Brookhavens Estates in Atlanta. Daddy had it custom built, so it was nestled onto a quiet, private street. Outside the home reminded me of all the white plantation-style homes that were often seen throughout the South during slavery days with a slated roof and big white columns in front of it. The landscaping was impeccable as Daddy always had a thing about image.

  I parked the car and nodded at Danny when he let me in. There was a coldness in his eyes. One that told me Daddy had probably said something else to him about the fact I was dating. I always knew Danny had a crush on me, but I often ignored it. There was just no way I would date a man who had so much loyalty to my father that he would do anything he told him to do without question.

  The foyer was black-and-white with a high ceiling. I looked up the stairs to see my father slowly stalking down. He had on a teal smoke jacket, blue slacks, and black square toe dress shoes. There was a stern look on his face. He looked at my stomach and then the ring on my finger. He grunted but didn’t greet me . . . at least not the way that he used to.

 

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