by Noire
Barron knew he couldn’t put the blame on Mink for everything that had gone down, but she was damn sure responsible for a big part of it. He was cool with the fact that she really was his long-lost sister Sable, but he couldn’t stand all the drama and disorder that had come down on the entire family and seemed to follow her wherever she went.
He shook his head. The girl was just like a project roach. Them suckers never traveled alone. Thanks to Mink and her entourage they had more hood niggas living under the Dominion roof than a little bit, and if he’d thought Mink’s sidekick Bunni was a fooligan, she was a lightweight compared to her flamboyant brother Peaches.
Barron grimaced as he set the bar in the rack and sat up with his entire shirt soaked. He was about fed up with all the bullshit, and if something didn’t give in the Dominion household he might just blow his top.
When his father had gotten hurt in that oil rig blast, it was Barron who had taken over as the man of the house, and he had kept things running with an iron fist too. He had stepped into Viceroy’s big shoes as the CEO of Dominion Oil and he’d filled those suckers up without missing a beat, if he had to say so himself.
Yeah, Barron thought as he stood up and stretched his hamstrings to get ready for his dead lifts, he could admit that the clout and notoriety that came with such a high-powered position might have swelled his head up a little bit while his father was gone. That type of dominance and authority over a multi-billion-dollar company and its personnel was exactly the type of job Barron had been born to do. But when his father woke up and started bitching about the way he had handled things without giving up any props or even so much as a thank-you for keeping everybody’s head out of water, it had left Barron pissed off and more than a little bit offended.
He needed his father to know that stepping into a job like that hadn’t been easy. Shit had gotten real tight a couple of times and even now Barron couldn’t believe he had messed around and got caught in a sucker move when somebody slipped a tab in his drink at a frat party. It had been one of the worst nights of his whole fucking life, and before it was all over he had driven around town drunk as hell, hit a little kid, crashed into a bunch of cars, and had his mugshot snapped wearing lipstick and a mini-skirt.
If it wasn’t for Suge, Barron’s nuts could’ve been crushed in a vise grip for the rest of his miserable fuckin’ life, and he thanked God that his uncle was the type of dragon-slaying nigga who could slump the boogey-man and make a nightmare disappear.
“Grrahhhhh!”
Barron grunted and exhaled as he bent over and picked up the heavily weighted bar then straightened his legs and came to an upright stand. He was punishing himself with the weights, but feeling the physical pain was better than feeling the restlessness and the resentment that was weighing heavy on his chest. He didn’t deserve all the cheap gut shots Viceroy had been throwing at him, and he damn sure shouldn’t have handed over the reigns to Dominion Oil to a man whose head was still fucked up and whose judgment was suspect.
From the outside looking in, Barron knew he looked like the type of dude who had it going on. As a successful black attorney who was a member of one of the most powerful families in Texas, he was living the kind of life that a lot of men would have killed for. But it wasn’t the shiny cars, or the hand-tailored clothes, or even the beautiful women that motivated him anymore. None of that came close to the thrill of power he had felt when he was in complete control of his father’s empire. And now that he’d gotten himself a nice big bite of that power he missed the shit out of it, and he knew he had to get it back again. Some way, some fuckin’ how. He had to get that feeling back again.
Consumed with his desire to guide Viceroy’s money-making machine into future glory, Barron grabbed his cell phone and water bottle and went over to the treadmill to get some cardio work in. He returned the nods of a few people who he saw there regularly, knowing none of them recognized him or realized that he was the heir to a multi-billion-dollar throne.
Barron set the treadmill to the steepest uphill incline and dug in and pushed his body as hard as it could go as his legs flew and he imagined himself running to the top of a mountain and screaming, “I want my spot back! I’m not my goddamn father! I’m my own fucking man! My time is now and I’m going to seize my moment! I’m Barron Dominion, bitches, and I will not be denied!”
The sight of his cell phone flashing in a distinct pattern brought him tumbling down from the mountaintop with a quickness. He slapped the emergency stop button on the treadmill panel and snatched it up.
“Ma? What’s wrong, Ma?” Barron frowned as he pressed his phone to his sweaty ear. Selah was on the other end crying and babbling so hard that he could barely make out a word she was saying.
“What do you mean Pops put you out? Put you out of where?” Barron’s face was pinched as he listened for a few short moments.
“He put you out of the house? Out of our house? What are you talking about, Ma? The pool house? Are you fuckin’ serious? Pops kicked you out of your bedroom and put all your stuff in the pool house? Where is he?” Barron demanded. “Put him on the goddamn phone!”
Barron fell quiet as Selah let loose with another barrage of tears and shrieks. He picked up enough of what she was saying to figure out that Viceroy had already gone back to the main house and that his mother was alone in the pool house crying her heart out.
“It’s okay, Mama. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Just hold on, Ma. Let me call Daddy and then I’ll call you right back. Don’t worry, we’ll get this straightened out and I’ll get you back inside the house. You know how he’s been acting ever since he woke up. The doctors warned us he might get crazy sometimes, remember? It’s his head injury,” Barron soothed her. “It’s not you or anything you did wrong, Mama. It’s just his head injury, that’s all.”
Barron closed his eyes and nodded several times as he listened to Selah babble. “Okay, okay. I understand. Just let me handle it, Ma. I’ll have you back in the house in no time, I promise. Just let me handle it.”
Muthafucka!
Barron picked up his water bottle and hurled it against the wall. Ignoring the startled looks from the other patrons, he dug down in his sock for his car key and then stormed toward the front door in a rage. He couldn’t believe it! That nigga actually put his mother out of her own goddamn house? His father was trippin! He was out of his goddamn mind! That bastard had gone too far this time!
Way too goddamn far!
CHAPTER 6
“Girl, did you see that bullshit?” I said as we peeped out the back window and watched Viceroy and the servants drag Selah’s shit across the yard toward the pool house. I knew Bunni’s eyes had seen the exact same thing that mine had seen, but my eyes just couldn’t hardly believe it!
“That muthafucka!” I hissed. “Who the fuck is he to call her a hoe and put her out back in the pool house like that?” I bitched like the ritzy-ass pool house wasn’t ten times the size of our old crib back in Harlem.
“Um,” Bunni said like shit was real obvious, “he would be the owner of this damn mansion, that’s who he is!”
I frowned as I shook my head. “Well, did you see the look in his eyes when he busted up in the dining room accusing Mama Selah of fucking out? Good thing he wasn’t packin’ no blicky on him ’cause that fool looked like he was on a bang-bang mission for sure.”
“Naw! Girl, stop. You really think Daddy-Doo is the type a’ maniac who could roll up in the cut and spray a joint?”
“Hell yeah, if his hood ass got mad enough! Bunni please! You from Harlem just like me, girl. We done seen plenty a’ harmless-looking niggas get loose with the tool. What kinda dumb-ass question is that?”
Viceroy had truly scared the shit outta me and I’d practically had a flashback when he started wildin’ like he was gonna lay the whole house down. I’d been caught up in some deadly dealings with murderous thugs like Moolah, and Punchie Collins, and that cray-cray nigga Gutta too, so I’d seen that look in plenty of dud
es’ eyes. It was usually right before they wrapped their hands around my throat and started choking the hell outta me.
“Girl, what are we gonna do?” I frowned as I watched Viceroy hurl the last basket of Selah’s clothes into the pool house and then storm across the lawn and head back into the mansion. “How in the hell are we gonna convince Viceroy to let Mama Selah sleep in here tonight?”
Bunni cut her eyes at me. “We? What you care about where that old bird lays her head at, Mink? I mean, she did have a fuck buddy and she was fuckin’ out, wasn’t she? So why in the ho-ho are you so worried about Selah?” she demanded. “The hustle is over and you got the duckets now, baybee. Why you still all on her tip like that?”
“Who said I was on her tip?” I smirked. “Mama Selah ain’t no jump-off, Bunni, he wifed her ass! I just don’t think he shoulda put her out like that. And what about Peaches? Viceroy said Peaches had to go too.”
Bunni poked out her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes. “My bruvah ain’t going nowhere! Papa Doo can kill all that noise because Peaches ain’t leaving this house!”
“And what about Okrah?” I said real loud. “I hope Selah can still do the damn interview this afternoon!”
Bunni twisted her lips. “I don’t see how with that big old black eye Viceroy made me give her—but I’m down to take her place and get my chat on with Okrah if you need me to. Hell, my ass is dying to be on TV! I want all them old funky-breath scrippers and hoes down at Club Wood to see us on they big flashy screens! What good is having a mansion and a hunnerd thousand whips if you ain’t gonna flaunt that shit? That’s why I been on this reality show grind so hard, Mink. So we can be on TV.”
I poo-poo’d that nonsense and waved my hand. “Being on television ain’t everything, Bunni. We didn’t creep up on all this money just to turn into somebody’s cable whores! I ain’t wit’ it!”
“But why not, Mink? Stunnas like us was born for the camera! Besides, I’m always down for your whatevas! Any damn thing you wanna get into I’m ya roady and I got your back. So why you don’t never wanna be down for me, Mink, huh?”
“It’s not like that—”
Bunni cut me off and laughed. “Girl, please, you going on Okrah, boo! Okrah Live! Is you gonna tell her about that time the toilet overflowed upstairs and we stole an old box of her thick-ass magazines and used them to soak up all that nasty water?”
I rolled my eyes. “Bunni, please. Hell no I ain’t gonna tell her none of that! Is you crazy?”
She cracked up. “That was a shitty mess! Remember how we got mad ’cause every single cover had a picture of Okrah on the front?”
I nodded and giggled. “And those shits were thick as hell?”
“Like telephone books!” Bunni howled.
“And remember all that nasty-looking white-people food she cooked on her show the other day?”
Bunni squinched her face up. “All her shit be looking nasty! People be sharing her recipes on Facebook trying to feed her shit to they farm animals and even the pigs won’t eat it!”
“I know that’s right!” I screeched.
“See there, Mink?” she said happily. “You about to have your little shine in the spotlight so why can’t I have minez too?”
I sighed. Bunni was right. I could dig what she was saying and any other time I woulda been flouncing my ass on the national TV tip with her. But I was starting to feel some kinda way about the Dominions, and after all the hustles and the hassles I had been through tryna get on, I was comfortable in my lil spot and I wasn’t tryna rock no boats. I’d seen enough of those reality shows to know what kinda fuckery and foolery that grind required, and I wasn’t gonna put myself out there and embarrass the family name like that. I just wasn’t!
For one thing, Viceroy was never gonna let no film crew get up in his grill and tell all the family bizz, and for another thing I had Suge to think about too. My dude was rich and powerful and he commanded big respect. He coulda had him any type of woman he wanted, but he wanted me. Not the old me, but the new me. And I wanted his ass too.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I lied and turned away so I didn’t have to see the hurt look on my girl’s face.
Bunni stomped her feet behind me and sucked her teeth. “C’mon now, Mink! What in the hell is there to think about? We from Harlem, baybee! We get it in! This is who we are and what we do, heffa! Remember?”
“For real though,” I muttered again and waved her off. “I said I’ll think about it.”
That ugly bastard! Selah sniffled and cupped her swollen eye as she stood in the tiny bedroom of the pool house gripping her cell phone. She had just called Barron and told him what a monster his father had been to her, and now she stabbed at Rodney’s number for the tenth time in less than three minutes and listened as once again his phone went straight to voice mail.
Selah cursed under her breath as she clicked off the call and flung the phone down on the dresser. She couldn’t believe that bastard had outed her! That he’d had the nerve to send Viceroy a picture of her ring! What in the world could that fool have been thinking? Didn’t he know who he was fucking with?
With fresh tears trickling down her cheeks and her lips pinched tightly together, Selah looked around at the junky piles of her personal belongings that were scattered on the floor where Viceroy had tossed them. Deep humiliation washed over her and she bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying out in shame.
Getting put out of her own damn house was a nightmare she could have never imagined in a million years. She felt like a hoodrat. Like a common piece of project trash. All these years she’d spent building herself a prissy-clean image of a classy socialite just to have a bucket of mud slung on her right in her own kitchen. Viceroy had showed his natural black ass in front of her daughters and her trusted staff, and getting marched out the door past her servants and assistants with her ass dragging and her eyes downcast had filled her with the utmost embarrassment.
And all for a piece of revenge dick! she reminded herself.
How could she have been so stupid? Getting back at Viceroy for screwing her younger sister had been the worst idea of her life, Selah had to admit. Especially when she stooped so low as to jump in the sack with his arch-enemy Rodney Ruddman. Damn right they had been fucking like bandits! Little did Viceroy know, but that little frog-faced Ruddman had sucked her toes, pounded her pussy, and licked her slit so good that he had her calling out his name and begging him for more. Rodney Ruddman had a dick on him that was unlike anything Selah had ever seen before. It looked like a foot-long bat, long, thick, and stiff as hell. All Selah had to do was close her eyes and she could relive the memory of the way he had slid that delicious tube of man-meat all up in her guts, and how he knew just where to lick her and how to make her kitty purr.
But she would have traded away all those good feelings Rodney had given her if it meant avoiding this drama with Viceroy. She tried to call up some righteous justification by reminding herself that if she hadn’t caught Viceroy getting his dick waxed by her little sister all those years ago then she wouldn’t have gotten drunk and lost her baby for almost twenty damn years, and she wouldn’t have gone after Ruddman looking to have a revenge affair either. But not even that old rationalization was working for her today.
The truth was, she had fucked around with the wrong man. The fact that she had opened her legs to some outside dick was bad enough, but had it been anyone else but Ruddman then Viceroy’s rage wouldn’t have been nearly so intense. Deep inside she had expected to get her revenge and feel real satisfied by the look of pain and betrayal she’d seen in her husband’s eyes, but instead she was filled with dread and fear. Because Selah knew something today that she hadn’t known twenty years ago when her sister was sucking her husband’s dick down to the bone.
Standing her ass in that dusty pool house she knew without a doubt that Viceroy held the ultimate power in his hands, and as a man, it didn’t matter how doggish and low-down he had been, a woman could never play
the fuck-your-homey game and walk away from it without looking like a toilet and smelling like shit.
In her heart of hearts Selah knew Viceroy had seen straight through her tears and her lies of protest. But underneath the finery and the gloss, her blood still ran true to the code of Brooklyn. It didn’t matter if Viceroy rented out a mega movie theater and rolled some videotape of her with her ass tooted up to the sky while Ruddman drilled her coochie until oil dripped from her nose, she would never admit to stepping outside of her marriage and having sex with another man. Never.
Clutching her throbbing black eye, Selah took a few aimless paces around the room searching through the mess until she found her makeup kit. Bunni’s round-house punch had damn near sent her eyeball flying outta the back of her skull, but the black eye was all Rodney Ruddman’s fault, just like everything else that had happened today was. She was too ashamed that her baby Fallon had witnessed the grimy drama going down between her parents, and had heard Viceroy accusing her of whoring around on her knees. That certainly wasn’t an impression she wanted her daughter to have of her, Selah thought as she stood at the mirror trying her best to hide the bruise that was darkening under her eye. She had spent her entire life creating a carefully constructed image, and this pile of shit she found herself standing in had the potential to bring her entire life crashing down. She didn’t care what she had to do, she was going to make this right with her husband and get back in his good graces. But no matter what, she would never, ever cop to being within twenty feet of that fuggly-ass old troll Rodney Ruddman! Never!