Milk Money

by Jude E. McNamara

  “Knock it off Nicky. Julianna’s still globe-trotting across Europe with her twenty-something girlfriends, still dancing to hip-hop and bubble gum pop. Doubt she’ll be the source of Becker grandsons anytime soon. Besides, a man would have to come by you first.”

  Three was right. I’d be the first in line to kill any man that wanted to knock my baby sister up with child. I’d been the brother closest to her since we were kids. Her protector. The words Julianna and babies need not be said around me in the same sentence.

  “Well I’m only the messenger, Nicky. Don’t kill the messenger, brother.”

  Three, one. Nicky, zero.

  “So, what else is new? You’re forty-four man. You’re a rock star attorney. You’re going to one day run the Becker Foods empire. Grow a pair, man. Stand up to Big Daddy and your wife.”

  “Easy for you to say Nicky. You’ve never had a wife,” Three groaned.

  Three, two. Nicky, zero.

  “So, fuck the shit out of her, make another baby and tell Big Daddy to leave me out of it. You’ve devoted your whole life to Becker Foods. Let Big Daddy deliver his own messages,” I sighed, glaring across the room spotting Harper on the arms of that fuckwad Brooks Fitzgerald McKenna.

  I felt my mood downshifting to funk mode and my left temple twitching, signaling a headache was forthcoming.

  “What’s the second thing?” I said, changing the subject, in hopes this discussion would fucking go away.

  “Specifically Nicky, there’s a plastics company called Joduku Plastics originating in Japan. The American division is located in Princeton, New Jersey. It’s up for sale. The parent company is spinning it off. Big Daddy wants you to buy it for Becker Foods.”

  “Buy it? For What?”

  “We’re in the food manufacturing business Nicky.”

  “So. Why plastics, Three?”

  “Big Daddy’s got this bright idea that Joduku Plastics has some innovative technology that Becker Foods can use for its poultry packaging. Big Daddy has good intuitions when it comes to shit like this. He’s rarely ever wrong. As far as this acquisition is concerned, he insists you’re the man for the job.”

  “Since fucking when?” I asked, unaware that I was beginning to raise my voice.

  Lucia elbowed me in the side to lower my voice. She walked away, leaving me alone to my own devices.

  “I’m giving you a heads up Nicky. You either get onboard or you’ll be hearing from him directly, take it from me.”

  “I have my own shit to contend with, Three. It’s not like I have a whole lot of time and money to be taking on acquisitions for Becker Foods,” I hissed.

  “Knock it off Nicky. Everybody knows you can buy whatever you want. It’s one of the chief perks of being really rich, brother,” Three said. “Just be you.”

  Three for Three. Nicky, zero.

  I was beginning to get some black cat kind of feeling on this whole matter, but not knowing why. The one thing that served me well in my business was my gut. And my gut was turning backflips on this whole bullshit with Big Daddy. Babies, wives, plastics companies. Sadly nobody ever says no to Big Daddy and gets away with it. The good news was if I had to tangle with Big Daddy over a plastics company, a wife, babies, and a legacy, half the battle was won. Because I was laying eyes on my Becker baby-maker across the room. She was right here in front of me.

  The bad news was, that first class shithead Brooks Fitzgerald McKenna was on the dance floor, coiled around my baby-maker. Not to mention Mr. Security himself, Malcom Coles, was gritting his teeth in anger, while popping Tums excessively. Who or what was giving him heartburn? Maybe it was Brooks. Maybe it’ll be me. Far be for me to deny Malcom some heartburn.

  “Fine, Three. I’ll snag the plastics company for Becker Foods because that’s business. Family business. But you tell Big Daddy for me, he doesn’t get to control my personal life,” I hissed back at him.

  “You tell him yourself Nicky. I’m only forewarning you as to what’s coming down the slippery slope, little brother.”

  Three, four. Nicky zero.

  “Yeah right, Three.”

  “After all Nicky, you’re the omnipotent one, so you should know these things, remember? Part the Red Sea, Nicky, and make it happen,” Three answered back in his serious lawyer voice.

  “This really should be your project, Three.”

  “I’ve got bigger fish to fry right about now. Marcy wants to redecorate Becker Manor. She wants the girls in some new fancy-dancy private school in the fall that will practically cost me the price of a four-year stint at Harvard.”

  “You’re starting to whine again, Three.”

  “I really don’t like being the go-between Big Daddy and you. You get me, Nicky?”

  Three, five. Nicky down on the mat.

  I barely heard Three’s last words as my thoughts were suddenly distracted. The band was playing our song.

  “Gotta run, Three. Talk to you later.”

  Color me down for the count.

  I slammed my phone shut. I could hear myself sighing heavily. Some freaking New Year’s. Big Daddy sending messages about babies and plastic companies. I needed to get to a happy place. And if this new year had any chance of being a happy one, I was going to have to start with taming little Ms. Control Freak herself, Harper Montgomery.

  “Are you okay, Nicky?” Lucia asked, walking back toward me again, noticing I had ended my call.

  “Get me everything you can find on Joduku Plastics before next week, Lucia. We’re going into the plastics business,” I said, handing her my phone back.

  Lucia shook her head, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling at the same time.

  “Plastics,” she muttered under her breath, slightly agitated.

  I ignored Lucia, gliding across the dance floor to begin my mission. I wasn’t the best dancer in the world, but one thing I did do well was slow dance. Mico had requested the band play Norah Jones’s “The Nearness of You.” He moved to dance with his bride. Mico requested this song for me. I knew his and Riley’s song was “All the Way.” Hell, I was the best man. I could slow dance to this. Mico taught me how to dance at the Academy, instructing me early on that black women liked their men well coordinated on the dance floor and in the bedroom. None of that two-left-feet shit. I glanced in Mico’s direction. He gave me the go for it nod, confirming my suspicions. I was going to make a move on Harper and snatch her out of the arms of that fuckwad Brooks.

  My eyes did a one-eighty of the room. Mackenzie Rhodes was on a picture-taking break. Mackenzie was Harper’s BFF. A beautiful petite black woman with short black hair that typically hung in spiral wavy-looking curls, she was glammed to the max tonight, her hair pulled off her face, laying bone straight. She was gliding around elegantly in a yellow satin gown that moved with her in all the right places, accenting her shapely curves. She merged so easily with the wedding guests, one would hardly know she was working tonight. Mackenzie was engaged in conversation with Malcom. She was so easy on the eyes, I was certain she’d have Malcom’s attention for however long she chose. This was my moment.

  I honed in on Harper across the room on the dance floor like a radar-guided drone, ready to strike.

  Harper was dazzling. Beautiful. She looked absolutely edible, taking my breath away. Her caramel-colored skin complimented the emerald-green oriental-inspired dress that hugged her curvaceous body tightly. Her dress was shiny with green trim, making her look like cool, lickable lime sherbet—good enough to eat on a hot day. Her long black hair was swirled in an updo with two emerald-and-black oriental chopsticks that were holding her hair in place. She had thick wide diamond cuffs on both arms, and some cotton-candy-colored stilettos that accented those sleek brown legs. Harper looked like a million dollars, the envy of every woman in the room, the lustful desire of every man. I strolled across the room tightening my tie, pulling the cuffs on my tuxedo for good measure, all while moving to take her hand, putting it in mine.

  “Excuse me Brooks, I’d like t
o have this dance with Harper if I may,” I said, my eyes narrowing thin, daring him not to step aside like a gentleman.

  I knew I could count on the fact this his sense of aristocracy would compel him to step aside like a gentleman. I held my breath hoping I wouldn’t have to threaten him. It was a question mark because Brooks held it against me that I enticed one of his women friends away from his harem a couple of years ago. It was my way of paying him back for crossing me in business, so I wasn’t certain how he might respond.

  I was gratified when he nodded reluctantly and walked away, edging his way towards some young tall lanky-looking blonde on the other side of the room who’d caught his attention. He sauntered her direction like the sly fox that he was.

  “Hey, Kitten,” I said, tugging her body close to mine, pulling her hard and tight against my chest. We weren’t exactly indifferent to each other. Expectations between us hung in the air. I felt my gut knot.

  “Nicky, I almost didn’t recognize you tonight. Two of your limbs seem to be missing. You’re minus the blonde and black-haired bimbos that seem to be your regular appendages every time I see you,” Harper said.

  I knew Harper was throwing daggers, referring to supermodels Mallory Morgan and Jessica Leonard. Unfortunately for me, I’d managed to be splashed across the pages of that rag of a blog, The New York Esquire, a few weeks ago. I was cuddled in a booth at Club Below Zero in Soho with Mallory and Jessica. Truthfully, I was by myself until the paparazzi started sniffing around the club, about the same time Ms. Hot and Ms. Bothered walked into the door. And of course those two sirens surrounded me on both sides, unwilling to miss an opportunity to be photographed with me. They both are gorgeous as hell and they know it. Long on beauty. Short on brains. But they loved being “seen” with the rich and famous. Far be for me to deny them my company.

  “And for the record, I’m not your Kitten,” she said rolling her eyes, falling right in step with the beat of the music.

  “You scratch like a kitten, or better yet, a tigress,” I said, putting my arm around her waist, gliding her slowly on the dance floor, now humming in her ear.

  I couldn’t help but drink in her big brown eyes with eyelids that were glittering under the dance floor lights. She smelled like a mix of vanilla, jasmine, and oriental spice. She was wearing Obsession. Her favorite. I loved it on her too. I needed to call Calvin Klein and make an angel investment in his next new cologne solely to pay homage.

  “Can’t you ever give it rest, even for a celebratory night like tonight?” I asked. “You’re such the hard nut to crack. They’re playing our song, honey.”

  “Have you had a lobotomy since I’ve seen you last? You and I no longer have a song.”

  “We’ll forever have our song, Kitten.”

  “What’s wrong Nicky? Can’t get any attention from your other women tonight? You have to come haunt me? Not to mention if there’s any nut cracking to be had, it won’t be with you.”

  “You know you’re the only woman that means anything to me,” I said dismissively, twirling her around once to the beat of the music.

  “Don’t patronize me Nicky,” Harper said, looking up at me, her voice breathless.

  Her eyes were big, brown, intelligent, and leery. Suddenly I felt like she had all the power in the room. I could feel the back of my neck sweat.

  “Honey, you do look dazzling tonight,” I said, trying to change the subject, pulling her even closer to me.

  “Save the crap. I don’t need it.” Harper was glaring at me with the utmost frustration. “You aren’t dazzled now, and you weren’t dazzled ten years ago,” she snapped.

  “Goddamn, Harper. Here we go again. Aren’t you ever going to let that go?”

  As soon as the words popped out of my mouth, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. I had to try to recover. “At some point we have to forgive each other for what happened. Even then, our relationship had more good than bad.”

  Harper moved her red luscious lips to say something but paused, her lower lip quivering. “We could have a re-do you know if it weren’t for the fact that you fight me at every turn,” I snapped. “Haven’t we hurt each other enough?”

  The band begin playing “Try a Little Tenderness.” I held on to Harper even tighter. I wasn’t letting her go. I could feel her heart pounding hard against my chest. I flashed a quick smile down on her, searching her soul, trying to burrow my way inside those cold dark places trying to reach her heart. I believed there was a spark still left there between us. I felt it whenever I touched her. I felt it whenever I was in her presence. I knew she could feel it too. At some point I had to knock down her defenses and that freaking stone wall that she puts up every time I come around.

  “I think you have your facts wrong, Nicky. I don’t recall being the one to have doled out the boatload of hurt and pain that summer,” Harper growled.

  “No, that was my fault,” I said, whispering the words softly in her ear. “I own that. But you sure as hell have doled out your share of hurt, pain, and venom ever since. I think ten years later, it’s time for you to cease with this war you’ve waged against me, Kitten.”

  I could feel myself losing my temper which was not the outcome I wanted to have. Goddamn she brings out the worst in me. This wasn’t going so well.

  “Venom? War?” Harper said, pushing back on me, her feet now coming to a halt on the dance floor.

  “Heeeeey, Harper,” Mackenzie said, shuffling across the dance floor in our direction as the song was coming to an end. “How long are you going to stay on this dance floor slumming with the asshole? The senator and your mother are on their way up, and Malcom wants you a bit closer to him right now,” Mackenzie said, looking me up and down with undeniable annoyance.

  “What’s wrong Mac, you’re short on folks to harass tonight?” I said, disgusted that she had appeared. I decided making me miserable was a part of her life’s mission. “Shouldn’t you be taking some photographs or something? Harper’s a grown woman. I doubt that she needs a seeing-eye dog to get around on her own tonight,” I said, peering down on her five-foot-two frame, our eyes colliding.

  “Go to hell, Nicky. You’re lucky she speaks to you at all,” Mackenzie hissed.

  “I’d like to think she and I can still be friends even though you don’t.”

  “Humpf. Who needs enemies around with you on the prowl?” Mackenzie growled.

  “Perhaps we can have a seat, Harper?” I pleaded, seriously wanting to ditch Mackenzie. “Can I get you something to drink, a glass of champagne?”

  “She doesn’t need anything from you,” Mackenzie said, shoving her champagne glass in Harper’s hand and narrowing her eyes at me.

  “Excuse me you two,” Harper interrupted. “Last I checked I didn’t realize I required either of you to speak for my interests,” she snorted, ignoring Mackenzie and I staring each other down.

  Harper directed her attention toward the arrival of her parents.

  Almost immediately I could hear the familiar sounds of the senator’s entourage arriving. The senator and his wife headed for the bridal party table, the senator shaking heads with the guests along the way, making his usual Grand Poohbah entrance. They quickly moved across the floor, headed toward the newlyweds to graciously extend their congratulatory wishes. It was hard not to notice the buzz that was suddenly filling the room.

  I pulled Harper close to me. “Excuse us Mackenzie,” I said, at the same moment Malcom was walking towards us. I quickly tucked Harper under my arm. I turned my back on both of them, guiding Harper towards the direction of her parents, my hand on the small of her back. I knew she’d want to see her folks, and I wanted to be at her side when she did. I was confident as I guided her across the room, she wouldn’t put up an argument. She understood the history between our families.

  “Daddy, Mother,” Harper said, rushing to give them both a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  She smiled boldly, kissing them each on the cheek.

  “How’s my girl?�
� Senator Montgomery said.

  Senator Clayton Lawrence Montgomery was a distinguished fair-skinned African American man. I was sure he had some native Indian in his lineage by the red undertones in his skin. He reminded me of General Colin Powell. A fit man, always well groomed. Dressed in a black silk-collared tuxedo, his silver grey hair, strong jawline, and face framed with clear rimless glasses, he had a regal-like air of authority. Whenever the senator was around, all heads turned. There was never a doubt who was in command.

  “Nicolas, it’s so good to see you again. How’s the Deuce doing?” Senator Montgomery said, referring to my father, Blake Ross Becker II.

  Only a handful of people from back in the day referred to my father as Deuce. Over the years, as my father grew in power and wealth, he somehow moved from being “Deuce” to “Big Daddy.”

  I grumbled to myself, my thoughts skittering through my brain at the mere mention of Big Daddy. He was making me buy a damn plastics company. Deuce might as well been labeled “Ass” tonight as far as I was concerned.

  “He’s well sir, thank you for asking,” I said politely, trying to forget my own frustration with my father tonight.

  “Oh Nicholas, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you, darling,” Harper’s mother Elizabeth Carmichael Montgomery said, air kissing me on both cheeks, European style.

  I flashed a huge smile back at her, still holding Harper’s hand tightly. No one but Senator Montgomery would have a wife as lovely and beautiful as Elizabeth. It was obvious where Harper got her good looks. She came from a beautiful gene pool. I swear her mother grew better looking each year with age.

  Elizabeth was the consummate political trophy wife. Her long sandy brown hair with streaks of blonde highlights hung bone straight on her shoulders. Her red off-the-shoulder gown complimented her voluptuous breasts, small waistline, and curvy hips. The woman looked hot. Her green eyes were unusual for an African American woman, making her all the more alluring. Her skin was a golden brown, making me wonder if she had been in a warmer part of the world recently and had gotten a tan.