Love Trumps Game

by D. Y. Phillips

  “Wow. I have a Land Rover?” She had no idea what a Land Rover was but it sounded like something worth having. “And you say my kids are with my mother?”

  “The last time I checked. The problem is, your mother might be in danger as well. I drove by her home the other day and saw some fire damage.”

  “And?” The more she heard, the more the story sounded like a bad dream.

  “Her house was boarded up. I doubt she’s staying there.” He passed her a picture of a woman standing out in front of a house watching a black car pull off. “That’s Hattie, your mother. You have a sister that spends every other Sunday at your mother’s house. Her name is Myra. Here’s a picture of her and her kids leaving your mother’s house. I ran her license plates to find out she lives in Victorville. I’m thinking that your mother might be there. I’m sure they’re very worried about you by now.”

  “Hattie?” Nothing he was saying sounded familiar. She accepted the next photo from him. “And this is?”

  “The father of your children. My client. The man that’s probably looking for you as we speak. He introduced himself as TJ, but I checked him out as well. Topps Jackson, one of L.A.’s biggest druglords. Hiring my services was probably his way of keeping a lid on his personal business.”

  “I…I don’t recognize any of these people.” Hattie Sims. Raynita. Myra. Brandon. These were the names of her people, yet they were all the names of strangers to her. She kept challenging her brain cells to come up with something but couldn’t. Nothing. Nada. It was all so frustrating, not to mention, exhausting. “I must be a bad person.” Neema wiped at the tears that welled. “That’s why my life is jacked up. I was a bad person, right?”

  West stood up from the table. He cast sympathetic eyes down at her. “Not bad, just involved with some bad people. It happens.” He sniffed and looked away before running a hand through his hair. “You remind me of my daughter. Her name was Sandy, but she’s gone now. Murdered by a cold-hearted drug dealer like TJ. I waited too late to save her.”

  Neema’s eyes met his. “Is that why you’re helping me? Because I remind you of your daughter?”

  “You need to get some rest.” West moved to the kitchen window and peered out. The sun was just slipping behind a purple-pink horizon. He could smell the honeysuckle he’d planted last spring. This was his temporary crib, and he missed his Kent, Washington home. “Look, I have to go out for a few hours. You’ll be safe here.”

  “You’re avoiding my question?” Neema persisted, keeping her eyes on him. “You don’t know me and I have no money to pay you. Why are you doing this for me?” She tugged the robe close to her. “What’s in it for you, West?”

  “I don’t know.” West shook his head before heading out the room. “Another young woman with kids. Lives in danger. It’s like I said, it’s too late to save my daughter the first go-round. Maybe it’s my way of saving her the second time around, through you. Call it restitution.” He perked up. “Anyway, I’ll bring some dinner back. Stay in bed and get some rest.” After throwing that out into the universe, he left.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “Glen, this is my family we’re talking about. Surely you don’t expect me to just throw them out to the wolves.” Myra felt close to tears, not that tears would help. They had never been effective on Glen. Maybe it was something that they taught doctors in med school.

  “Myra, I’m doing what we should have done to begin with.” They were in the massive kitchen where Glen was stirring sugar into his morning cup of black coffee. He took three sips from the cooled brew before sitting the cup down. “I don’t want another incident like the one that happened the other day.”

  “Mama needs more time before the insurance company repairs her house and she can move back home.” She thought about what she’d just said. Even that didn’t seem like the right solution, not with that…that maniac still out there.

  “That’s understandable, Myra, but she can’t stay here. Not with some lunatic on her trail. If you’d told the truth about this situation to begin with, I would have paid to put them up in a nice hotel. Admit it. You lied about what was going on.”

  Glen had finally expressed that Hattie and the kids would probably be safer at another location. Normally, to keep peace, Myra went along with whatever program was passed down from Glen. But, for crying out loud, this was her family. “Glen, Mama is scared, and I’m scared for her. She needs to be around family that can help her with this. Not kicked out like some dog that has too many fleas.”

  “Look, Myra, I understand what you’re saying, but you’re being overly emotional about this. I care about your mother and your niece and nephew, too, but we have to consider the safety of our own family. I’m scared for you and the kids. You never mentioned some crazed maniac burning her house. And then he burns the car she was driving. Sorry.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I didn’t care about that old car.”

  “Myra, that’s not the point. My mind is made up about this. I called and talked with Mr. Kelly. He assured me that he could keep her and the kids safe until this mess clears up or blows over. He’ll be greatly compensated.”

  “But Glen, honey….”

  “Myra, it’s end of story.” Banging down his mug, Dr. Glen Bradshaw huffed and stalked out of the cheerful, yellow room.

  Myra watched his wide shoulders walk away from her. She felt like taking off her shoe and throwing it behind his big, stubborn head. Glen made her sick—sometimes made her question why she’d chosen him for a husband. This was one of those times. He wasn’t the most handsome man she’d dated, not with his head seemingly too large for his frame. He possessed the most piercing gray eyes that could stare clean through you one minute and melt you down with his warmth the next. An average girth looked good on his five-foot-ten frame, but it was his confidence that made him appear taller. Once he spoke, anyone with a brain could tell that he was educated, cunning and articulate with his speech. Glen could sell a box of fresh air.

  “What if this were your mother? Would you be so quick to put her out?” The master bedroom was on the first level, a vanilla-hued room with a custom-made, round bed dressed in vanilla trimmed in burgundy satin. Potted plants were everywhere. Like a petulant child, Myra stomped behind him.

  “To answer your question, my actions would be the same to keep my family safe.”

  “Family should stick together,” Myra persisted.

  “True, but if you’re not careful, family can get you killed. If it wasn’t for family, your mother wouldn’t be in this precarious predicament.” Glen was standing at the wide sweep of mirror running a charged shaver over his caramel-hued face. His attire consisted of dark Dockers, a light-blue shirt and sensible shoes. His tone softened when he spotted the stress that was blatant on Myra’s face. “Sweetheart, I know you’re upset right now, but I’ve already taken the liberty to make arrangements for your mother. You have to trust me on this one. It’s the right thing to do, and she’ll be fine.”

  “What kind of damn arrangements?” So what if she sounded ghetto or loud; no one treated her family like crap. Her mother had loved and supported her through four years of college and wouldn’t accept a dime for rent and food. If it hadn’t been for her going to college, she wouldn’t have met Glen in the nearby donut shop.

  “Instead of us taking a chance driving Hattie to Mr. Kelly’s place, we thought…”

  “We?”

  “Let me explain now. Mr. Kelly and I both felt that it would be better if he came here for her. He should be here at nine to pick your mother and the kids up. This is a huge favor he’s doing for me, so try to be understanding.”

  Myra kept staring at the side of his head. If her eyes could shoot bullets, he’d be dead.

  “I need you to make sure everyone is packed up and ready to go. On my desk in the study, I left two envelopes with some cash. One is addressed to your mother. It should be enough cash to hold her over until she gets her business straight with her b
ank. The other is for Mr. Kelly.”

  “And what if Mama don’t wanna go into hiding with some stranger? I tried asking her how she felt about it…”

  “Sweetheart.” Glen stopped her with a professional glare. “Sometimes we don’t have choices in life. I gotta go.” He fetched his briefcase, then gave her a quick kiss. “Any news on your sister?”

  Myra’s heart squeezed at the mention of Neema. “No. Not yet.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She and her baby sister had never been the closest. Too much sibling rivalry for their mother’s attention was the culprit. Still, she’d give anything to hug Neema about now, to talk to her, to know that she was safe. Tears welled up.

  “Just keep checking with the detective that’s working the case. Something is bound to turn up.”

  Myra stood with her hands folded at her chest. “God, I hope so.” She wiped her tears away. Every time she tried to think positive, negativity kept slipping in. What if Neema was dead? What if she was being held hostage and being tortured? How long could her mother keep her distance from the kids’ father? All thoughts overwhelmed her. She wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping good. And her pet grooming business was being run by her staff. It was no doubt they were doing more goofing off and stealing her blind than work in her absence.

  “I have a meeting at six, and late patient rounds at the hospital. I’ll grab something to eat while I’m out. Maybe you should keep the kids inside for the rest of the week, and keep the doors and windows locked until Mr. Kelly gets here.” Glen stood for a few seconds and looked at her good. “Honey, I know you’re worried, but if anybody can help your mother through this, Mr. Kelly can. You know he’s an old gangster himself?”

  Myra nodded. “Yeah, you told me.” Over and over again. Glen had met Bruno Kelly over three years ago when he came to him as a patient in the early stage of colon cancer. It was Glen’s aggressive course of treatment that had sent Bruno Kelly’s cancer into remission. The man had been grateful ever since, striking up an odd-couple relationship between a polished doctor and a ruff-neck patient. According to Glen, the two still shared lunch once a month. Bruno kept it real that he was forever in Glen’s debt. Glen was God, at least to Mr. Kelly he was.

  “Gotta run. We’ll talk later.” Glen kissed her forehead again.

  After Glen pulled away from the house, Myra checked all the doors and windows before engaging the house alarm. She went to the kitchen where the aroma of beef stew filled the room. Not having to cook much since Hattie had been staying with them was a blessing. “Something smells good, Mama.”

  Hattie was at the Viking stove stirring a large pot. “Just heating up the leftover stew from last night for breakfast. We still have some salad left, too, and the cornbread is almost done. Will Glen be eating with us?”

  “No.” Myra sighed as she ambled over to the table and sat down. “He has a full day planned with patients and meetings.”

  Hattie cut a side glance at her. “You okay? You look tired.”

  Myra ran a hand through her shoulder-length, auburn hair. She needed a touch-up, but with everything going on with her sister and mother, her life was on hold. Her business was suffering. Her kids complained about having to share toys and space. And lately, she could feel her heart fluttering as it sped up when she tried to rest. “Mama, remember when I was telling you about this guy Glen knows named Mr. Kelly?”

  “The killer? Umph. I certainly do.”

  “He’s like an equalizer, or what you could call a protector of sorts. He steps in when people need help with a problem they’re having. It’s something he does for a living.”

  “I understand all that. What about him?”

  Myra took a deep breath. “Glen…well, uh, Glen seems to think that you and the kids would be more protected staying with Mr. Kelly until this situation you’re in is resolved.”

  Hattie stopped stirring the stew. “Glen thinks that?”

  “Yeah. He’s adamant about it. I tried to tell him that you need to be around family, but he’s so….so damn stubborn at times.”

  “He’s putting us out?”

  “Mama, no. It’s not like that. Glen is trying to find protection for you. He’s so worried because he’s away a lot and the idea of that fool busting up into this house on us, you know, hurting his kids…”

  “I see,” was all Hattie could say.

  “Mama, Glen has total confidence in Mr. Kelly. He’s a good friend of his. He says if anyone can help you with this problem, it’s Mr. Kelly.”

  Hattie squared her jaw. She couldn’t look at her. “When do we leave?”

  “Tonight. Glen said that Mr. Kelly will arrive to pick you guys up. He left money for you to live on until you have access to your bank account. He left money for Mr. Kelly as well.”

  “All this money being passed out…” Hattie grunted toward her, drying her hands on a towel. “How you two expect me to pay all this money back?”

  “Sounds like something for Neema to worry about when she shows back up.”

  That’s when Hattie broke down sobbing.

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” Myra jumped up and went to her, allowing her mother to get it out of her system. “Please don’t cry. I can’t stand seeing you like this. I don’t know what else to do.” She patted Hattie’s back hoping that a good cry would purge and renew her mother’s good spirit. Hattie was a strong, proud woman who stayed in church. She supposed that even the strong can become disheartened.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Hattie wiped her eyes and took control of her emotions. “I’m just so tired of running. Tired of worrying. Tired of waiting, and tired of being tired.”

  “I know, Mama. This is a strain on all of us.”

  “I swear…” Hattie sniffed. “If I felt that he was any kind of decent father, I would end this madness and turn the kids over to him. I would, but I promised your sister. I promised.”

  “Mama, I understand.” And in a crazy way, she did. If the script were flipped, she wouldn’t want a maniac like Topps getting his hands on her kids either.

  “I’ve been praying so hard for Neema. Praying for all of this to be over with. I need her to come home to her kids, Myra. Don’t she love them anymore?” Hattie looked ready for round two of crying.

  “Mama, please. Don’t even think such a thing. Neema loves her kids more than life. She may not be the best mother, but she does love her kids.”

  “Lord, I hope so.” Hattie wiped her eyes. She managed a weak smile. “I’ll go tell the kids to pack up their stuff. Nita’s been crying and asking when her momma was coming back, and I keep making up dates. I don’t know what else to tell her.”

  “Just tell her ‘soon,’ Mama. She’ll be home soon.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Hattie agreed, putting on a brave face. “What time will we be leaving?”

  “Between nine and ten tonight.” Myra looked at her Cartier Tank Française watch. Lately, the only place she felt comfortable wearing the expensive piece was around her house. “It’s after eight now. Maybe we can watch some movies after we eat our breakfast.”

  Hattie kissed her cheek. “You’re a good daughter, Myra.”

  “I love you, too, Mama. I wish I could do more.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Shit didn’t feel right.

  It was an eerie feeling that had soaked into Topps all day—a feeling that something was about to jump off. Something big. For one thing, Gina, his boo-bitch, was acting too nice. She had fed him a good supper of fried pork chops, creamed spinach, and buttery mashed potatoes. Homemade, not from a box. One thing he knew certain about Gina, she wasn’t the type of woman that enjoyed cooking. This disturbed him.

  After dinner, Gina had put the pussy on him good, getting down and dirty with the freaky the way he liked it. Had a nigga feenin’ like a junkie and feeling whipped and weak for a hot spell. They’d gotten up and showered without him even asking her to join him. Normally, Gina liked to lie in bed and bask in the a
fterglow of sex. He couldn’t stand the scent of sex lingering on his body.

  Secondly, she got up and changed the sheets on the bed without him asking. Hell yeah, he’d noticed it. He hated getting his freak on lying on soiled sheets. After that, Gina had smiled and told him that there was more good loving coming later. Wow. Hard to believe that he had to whip on that ass two days ago for running her mouth again about him trying to get his kids back. To’e that ass up, Topps mused with a sneer on his face. He didn’t mean to blacken her eye that way, but sometimes shit happened. And her lip had looked a little swollen, but he’d helped her put some ice on it and afterward gave her a chunk of cash to go spend. She always forgave him after spending some of his money. It almost made him feel sorry for her—having to get on her like that, but Gina knew how he felt about women with loose lips. Loose lips sank ships.

  “How ’bout some dessert, baby?” Gina was looking over at him with that fake innocence that only a trained woman knew how to put down good. “Want something sweet?”

  Damn. His boo was really giving him the royal. “Yeah. I could stand something.” Topps lay back on the red satin sheets, his head propped up on a myriad of satiny pillows. His hand was stretching the elastic of the black satin boxers he wore, playing with his thick, black pubic hair. Feeling drowsy from sex, he watched Gina get up and stroll naked across the room to get her robe from a chair. Hips swaying, her luscious breasts bounced like new rubber against her chest. Baby had back for days, but not like Neema’s big rounded ass. Hell, he mused, Neema had an ass that could win a contest. High, round and firm. Hell, the girl had enough ass to give some away to women in need.

  “Girl, you looking damn sexy.” Damn, in a kinky kind of way he missed Neema. Not a night went by when he didn’t wonder what had happened to the mother of his kids. Her last drop had been a set-up, but she never arrived. Not knowing what had happened to Neema or the large package she was supposed to drop was a constant reminder that she was the loose end. He needed to find her and bring closure. And getting his kids away from that pesky Hattie was a sure way to lure Neema back into the picture. When he did find her, maybe he could forget about the “termination,” forgive her, and they could start all over again. So what if she fucked and sucked on Slick behind his back. Pussy was like wash-and-wear fabric. Germs could be washed off. That’s what he liked about it.