by Tracy Brown
“I don’t have a problem with giving Gillian some play. My problem is with her mother. Mayra doesn’t love my father as much as he loves her. And sometimes I wonder if she’s the reason why Gillian stays so caught up in this life instead of being legit. Like . . . is she trying to push my sister into this shit so that she can see as much of the Nobles family money as me and my moms?”
Frankie realized immediately why Nobles had asked him to speak to Baron, rather than doing it himself. It was no secret that Celia—Baron’s mother—harbored resentment toward Mayra. The woman had basically stolen Nobles right out from under Celia’s nose, after all. And while Celia had been a dutiful, demure, and respectful wife, Mayra was pampered, extravagant, and spoiled rotten with Nobles’s money and power. Despite the fact that the two women were cordial in each other’s presence, they were in silent competition with one another—using their children as pawns in their twisted game of chess. Frankie had watched Nobles gracefully sidestep the simmering drama between his first and second wives. Nobles had managed to remain friendly with his ex-wife—he still paid all the bills and doled out cash whenever she needed it—while enjoying a happy marriage with his sexy, younger second wife. Frankie understood now that he had to be the one to get Baron to let his sister in the game, since Nobles suggesting it would have seemed like playing favorites.
“But it’s not about Mayra. Pops is the one who laid the foundation with Gillian. He taught her the basics because he don’t want her to settle for being one of those wives you were talking about before. Sitting around waiting for her husband to come home and lavish her with shit. He wants her to have her own, not somebody else’s. And he taught her well, too. She has that going for her.”
Baron nodded, staring blankly at the TV. “She does have this shit down pat.”
“Exactly,” Frankie cosigned. “What she needs now is her big brother to take her under his wing and show her the shit up close and personal. The same way I’ve watched you scoop these young fools off the block and show them how to really get money, you can show Gillian how to do what you do so that you can finally take that break you deserve. I think that’s the solution right there.”
Baron thought about it. Frankie was right. He did have a knack for taking the most hopeless of prospects and turning them into real contenders. If he could do the same thing with Gillian, he could keep the money in the family while giving himself the time to live a little. They had grown up closely, and Baron had protected and catered to Gillian as much as their father had. Being almost ten years older than his sister, he had schooled her and helped to mold her into the queen she was now.
But, truthfully, the one thing he had over his sister was his seat at the helm of the family. His position was what he believed endeared him in the heart of his father. The last thing he wanted was to relinquish that spot to his sister, for fear that she would do just as good a job—if not better. As much as he loved Gillian, there still existed a sibling rivalry of sorts for the admiration and respect of their father.
“I hear you, Frankie.” Baron nodded. “But I can’t walk away from this shit now. That’s not an option for me. This is my life.” He seemed to think about it for several long, silent moments. He sat there as if entranced, until a KFC commercial snapped him out of it. He picked up the remote and turned the channel. “Eventually, when I’m ready to stop, Gillian can have the business and all the headaches that come with it. Then I can spend more time watching Maury and shit.” He flipped past the paternity-test episode as he said it.
Frankie was disappointed. Convincing Baron to step down would be harder than he’d thought it would be. “Gillian won’t let you down. You know she’s respected, she’s smart. You should have given her the shot a long time ago.”
Baron smirked and looked at Frankie questioningly. “Yeah?” He laughed. “I would expect you to say that. She got you wrapped around her finger.”
Frankie laughed. “Gillian ain’t got me wrapped around nothing.”
Baron was smiling. He loved his sister, but she was cunning as hell. He suspected that she had probably sold Frankie on the idea of her taking over long ago. Nobles, too. Frankie, in Baron’s opinion, was being teased into submission. Baron watched his sister like a hawk, so he didn’t believe that she had ever been intimate with Frankie. Baron thought back to a conversation he and Gillian had years prior concerning her feelings for Frankie. Their discussion about Frankie’s upcoming wedding somehow turned into Gillian ranting about her disdain for Frankie’s soon-to-be wife. She believed that Camille was undeserving of the life she was marrying into. After listening to her bash Camille for a while, Baron had asked Gillian point blank if she had feelings for Frankie. Gillian admitted that she did. Baron had allowed that Frankie was a good man, and he really didn’t mind the idea of having him as a brother-in-law. But he also pointed out that Frankie seemed to really love Camille. Baron had advised his sister that if Frankie actually went through with the wedding, she should let go of any feelings she may have for him. She had taken his advice so far, and Frankie was really like part of the family. But Baron was not blind to the fact that his sister was a beautiful woman. He suspected that Frankie might have a crush on Gillian. He was sweet to her, thoughtful and patient. Gillian had their father eating out of the palm of her hand the same way. She was cultured, refined, and sassy at the same time. And when she wanted something—especially from a man—she tended to get it. As a daddy’s girl, she’d been spoiled rotten. True, she was down to go to a football game. But trust that she’d be watching from the skybox with a bird’s-eye view. She did everything big, expensive, over the top—just like her mother.
In fact, it had been Gillian who suggested (if not insisted) that the family put more of their money and manpower behind Frankie. Frankie was one of Nobles’s soldiers and had made a name for himself and all that. But he had not been a major player in the game as far as Baron was concerned. Nobles loved Frankie like a son, and Baron was aware of that. At one time he had resented their relationship, wondering if Nobles’s love for Frankie signaled that Baron wasn’t enough of a son to satisfy him. Not that he had anything against Frankie; quite the contrary. Baron admired Frankie’s hustle and his drive. And he had come to love him like a brother over time. He just hadn’t been sure in the early days that Frankie was worthy of the faith that Gillian and their father had in him. But Gillian had convinced Baron to give Frankie his full support. It was a decision he had never regretted. Frankie had proven to be trustworthy and consistent, and he continued to be a surrogate member of the Nobles family. Baron had watched Gillian’s friendship with Frankie blossom from then on, so it came as no surprise to him now that Frankie offered his endorsement of her.
“Yeah,” he said, sipping his Corona again. “She got you wrapped around her finger for real.”
Frankie grinned. “Yeah, aiight. Call it what you want, but you know I’m right. She has what it takes to be more hands-on. Plus you need the break, so in my opinion it’s win/win.”
Baron knew it was true. He needed to take a break, if only to get some much-needed rest. His cousin was having a bachelor party in Las Vegas that night and Baron had no intention of going. Anyone who knew him well would have been surprised to find the notorious party animal opting for a spot on the sofa instead of a wild night in Vegas.
Frankie’s grin faded as he thought about Gillian. “What’s up with your sister and that suit-and-tie lame?” he asked.
Baron took his eyes off the TV for a moment and glanced at Frankie. He didn’t know whether or not Gillian had told Frankie about her recent reconciliation with Sadiq. Baron shrugged. “Gillian don’t know what she wants. One minute she’s saying she hates his guts, and the next she’s going with him to a Broadway play. Whenever dude fucks up, he stops by Harry Winston or whatever and it’s all good. You feel me? Gillian and her moms are a lot alike in that respect.”
Frankie nodded. He knew that Gillian was a sucker for designer labels and costly things. What he admired abou
t her was her ability to get those things for herself. True, she expected them from her man as well. But, unlike Camille or Mayra, she was capable of having those luxurious things with or without a man.
“I just want to make sure she’s not getting played,” Frankie said, looking truly concerned. “If she’s happy, she’s happy. If not, I wanna do something about it.”
Baron nodded, wondering when Frankie and Gillian would stop bullshitting about their true feelings for one another. Clearly, there was more between them than the friendship they hid behind. “Pops likes this dude she’s seeing. He told her that she would be smart to hold on to this one. And you know how much of a daddy’s girl Gillian is. She’s probably staying with this guy out of some twisted need to please my father.”
Frankie nodded. Nobles had mentioned that he admired Gillian’s latest boyfriend. He was a successful Wall Street type who had all kinds of degrees. Still, Frankie couldn’t help worrying that Gillian was being blinded by this man with money and credentials. There had to be more to the guy than it seemed.
“So, you wanna get your ass whipped at Madden or what?” Baron picked up the Xbox control and looked challengingly at Frankie.
Frankie smirked and stopped thinking about Gillian for the time being. “Quit talking shit and let’s go.” Frankie grabbed the other control and got ready for war.
Secret Society
“Camille, can you pick Shane up from the babysitter for me today? Baron asked me to go out with him after work.” Misa was ecstatic about the invitation. It would be the first time that Baron was taking her somewhere public. In the weeks since they started their sexual relationship, all they’d ever done was spend lusty nights in his beautiful home. Baron was more aggressive than she had expected. He choked her during sex, slapped her, and even spit on her. Misa didn’t really like all that, but she willingly allowed it, eager for a permanent position in the life Baron was living. It was a small price to pay, in her opinion, for the opulence of the Nobles family circle.
Camille sighed and shook her head. “You can’t keep asking me to do this for you, Misa.” Camille loved her younger sister with all her heart. But she was sick of picking her nephew up, dropping him off, and of being asked to babysit weekend after weekend. Camille was happy that her sister was moving on with her life after a heartbreaking divorce from her cheating husband. But lately she was seeing more of her nephew than ever before, and having less time to herself. Meanwhile, Misa was having a grand old time. “I have a life of my own, you know?”
Misa rolled her eyes. Please! Camille had no life. All she had were fabulous things, a beautiful home, and the status of being Frankie B’s wife. She had no job to report to each day, no class she had to pass, no worries. Misa felt that her sister had no interests other than redecorating her home or buying something expensive, and no better way to spend her evening than caring for her nephew, as far as Misa was concerned. She didn’t feel like hearing this shit right now. She knew that Camille would give in to her. No matter how much she complained, Camille never said no. That was why Misa called on her so often. “Come on, sis. You know I got you. Name your price.”
“For what, Misa? You can’t pay it. You already owe me five thousand dollars.” Camille was sick of feeling used.
“I know that,” Misa said, with an attitude. She had to resist the urge to suck her teeth. “And I’m gonna pay you your money, Camille. Don’t make me feel worse than I already do. I hate having to ask you for help. But you know that Louis ain’t helping me much with Shane. He hardly ever picks him up or even calls to talk to him. The little bit of child support I get—”
“I know, Misa.” Camille sighed again. She felt guilty for lecturing her sister. She didn’t want to throw anything in Misa’s face; she was well aware that her sister’s ex did nothing to help out with little Shane. And Camille was glad that at twenty-four years old, Misa was getting a chance to enjoy her youth. “I’ll pick him up for you. Have fun.”
“Thank you!” Camille could hear the smile on her sister’s face. “I really appreciate it. I’ll pick him up in the morning on my way to work.”
Camille frowned. “Wait a minute! Why can’t you come and get him tonight?” she asked. “How long are you planning to be out tonight?”
“Well . . . all night. I’ll probably go home with Baron, Camille.”
Camille shook her head. Her sister was something else. Camille was tempted to warn Misa that Baron was a notorious playboy and that she shouldn’t put her heart into him. But the last thing she wanted was to put a damper on her sister’s joy. “Fine. But don’t make me late for my yoga class like you did last time. Pick him up early, Misa. I’m not playing!”
“Thank youuuuu!” Misa sang. She hung up, thrilled that she had the night to herself once again.
Camille, meanwhile, was wondering how she always managed to get suckered into shit like this. She finished making dinner and headed out to get Shane. In the car on her way to the babysitter’s house, Camille thought about her life. She felt so unappreciated—not just by Misa, but by Frankie as well. From the outside they looked like a perfect family. But behind closed doors, things were anything but perfect.
She picked her nephew up and headed home, stopping to get a few things at the supermarket. By the time she pulled her car into the driveway it was after seven P.M. She walked into the house and found Steven sitting on the couch watching television.
“Hey, Shane!” Steven smiled at the kid.
“Hi.” Shane shyly hid behind his aunt.
Camille was instantly annoyed. “Something wrong with the TV in the rental unit?” she asked.
“Nah,” Steven said, his eyes droopy from getting high. “I just wanted to watch the plasma.” He knew that Camille was sick of him being there, and Steven didn’t give a fuck. His brother was in charge, not her. As if on cue, Frankie came in through the back door and frowned when he saw Shane standing behind Camille.
“Hey,” he said, walking in and giving Camille a kiss. “You’re watching Shane again?”
Camille could hear the annoyance in her husband’s voice and tried to ignore it. She was tempted to remind Frankie that Shane was there from time to time but Steven was there all the time. She decided against it.
Innocently unaware of his uncle’s unwelcoming tone, Shane smiled when he saw Frankie. “Hi, Uncle Frankie.”
Frankie gave the little rugrat a pound and looked at his wife for her explanation.
“Misa had to work late, so I’m keeping him tonight,” she lied.
Frankie nodded, but said nothing as he headed to the kitchen. Camille followed. He took a Heineken out of the fridge and opened the drawer in search of the bottle opener. “You might as well take custody of your nephew, Camille. Misa never has her own kid.”
Camille looked at Frankie. “It’s not that bad. Misa’s young and trying to have fun, that’s all.” She felt sometimes that Frankie became annoyed whenever he saw the kid enjoying the luxuries in their home. If Shane was playing video games, Frankie felt that he should be doing chores of some sort. If Shane was watching TV in the living room on the high-definition flat-screen plasma, Frankie tried to get him to watch the nineteen-inch TV in the spare bedroom instead. Meanwhile, Frankie seemed to have no problem with Steven’s grown ass enjoying the same luxuries. Camille noticed his behavior, but did her best to appease her husband in order to keep the peace. Maybe he was sick of seeing Misa walk all over her, Camille reasoned. Maybe Frankie was so concerned about her well-being that he didn’t notice his own brother’s freeloading.
“I’m going to the Knicks game tonight. They play the Cavaliers and I got money on this game.” He walked back into the living room, leaving Camille standing alone. She raised an eyebrow. More and more, Frankie had “money on this game” or “money on this fight.” His gambling had started out harmlessly, but lately, he was out gambling every night, if what he told her was true. Not wanting to rock the boat, Camille didn’t call Frankie out.
More than an
ything, she wanted peace in her household. She wanted everyone to coexist with the least amount of conflict possible. But that was beginning to feel like wishful thinking. Camille was playing referee between her husband and her nephew, tolerating an unwanted tenant in her home, and being taken advantage of by her younger sister. And she was almost single-handedly supporting her mother since Misa so seldom had any extra money to contribute toward their mom’s living expenses. Camille felt like she was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
She went upstairs and got Shane situated in front of the TV in one of the spare bedrooms. While he watched a DVD featuring Piggley Winks, Camille went to her room and found Frankie dressing to go out. She thought about asking him to stay. She was lonely, and no matter how beautiful their home was, it wasn’t the same without Frankie being there with her. She sometimes felt that Frankie worked so hard while she was the only one who got to enjoy it. But Camille decided not to say anything. She didn’t want to set him off again. Instead, she poured herself a shot of Patrón—a nightly ritual these days—and watched her husband walk out the door.
Misa took a long, hot shower and spritzed on her favorite perfume. She did her hair and makeup and stepped into a black Norma Kamali dress she’d borrowed from Camille. Tonight, she was hitting the town on the arm of Baron Nobles, and she was eager to really let her hair down. They were going to a show at B.B. King’s—a popular nightclub in Times Square where music acts performed in a cozy and intimate setting. It was a birthday celebration for one of Baron’s friends, and she was honored that he had chosen her to accompany him.
Misa felt better than ever. She’d gotten her hair and nails done, plus a pedicure and eyebrow wax for good measure. She was treating herself well these days as a new divorcée. And having a sister like Camille, who could never say no and mean it, was an asset at a time like this. Misa had her sister’s money at her disposal plus the luxury of a great babysitter. What could be better than that?