by T. Styles
“Thank you for honoring my request because you didn’t have to.”
“Nonsense. A name like Master sets him up for greatness. Of course I had to honor your request.” She paused. “But why would you leave him if you wanted to remain in his life?”
Her question was warranted and I was in awe that it took her so long to ask. I re-entered his world about three months ago to the day. Surprisingly, she knew who I was the moment she saw me. Although Master was biracial, his hair was also red and at first I figured that was what gave me away.
Before responding to her question, I pondered the real answer. Originally, I gave him up because my husband told me that he was in love with another woman. I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me, knowing he desired nothing more than to be in his son’s life.
I was successful in my attempt to break him. Not only did Master’s kidnapping hurt him, but also he gained a lot of weight in the months since. Camp spent so much time trying to find out who kidnapped our child that he slacked in helping his brothers run the business.
I would’ve returned Master to him a long time ago. Even spent some time creating a story about how I found him. But since Master was gone, Camp stopped seeing his girlfriend and he stayed home with me more.
I wasn’t under any illusions that he loved me like a wife again. I could tell the time he spent with me was purely out of pity. But when you love a man as much as I did Camp, you’ll take what you can get. At the end of the day, if Master returned he would leave and I wasn’t willing to part with him.
The other explanation of why I gave Master up might be my biggest reason. I was abused as a child and in turn, children made me nervous and jumpy. Sometimes I acted out violently. I once broke Jasmine’s leg because she cried so much that I threw her in the bathtub out of anger. And when I heard Master wailing I felt myself about to do the same to him.
At the end of the day, Master was safer if he stayed with the Walkers. They were both heavy in the church and couldn’t have a child of their own. In my heart, I was giving them a gift and in turn, they were giving me one by keeping him safe.
“I gave him up because my lifestyle is not conducive for a child,” I said sipping the piping hot tea, burning my upper lip slightly. “And I want him to be happy and receive the love he deserves.”
She picked up her cup and dropped two cubes of sugar inside. “How did you find me? Because I have a feeling giving him to me was no mistake.”
I sat my cup down and pinned my arms against my belly before rubbing my elbows. “When I was pregnant I used to drive out to Virginia a lot to get away. The long drives helped me think. My marriage was in trouble at the time and the drives allowed me a temporary escape.” I grabbed the teacup and took another sip before placing it down again. “On one particular day I happened on a modest-sized church. I started not to walk inside but something about your voice called out to me. You were talking about not being able to have children and I waited until the end of the service and followed you home.”
Her head hung and she placed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I remember that day.” She got up and walked toward the fireplace. “It was the first day my husband, or the reverend, as he likes to be called,” she giggled, “found out about me being barren. Although I’m not of childbearing age anymore, he always thought it was because of him. That something was wrong with his sperm. I hated holding the secret that I learned as a teenager. And it was that my tubes were abnormal and no matter how healthy he was, as long as I was his wife, he would not be a father.”
“How did he take it?”
“He handled it well in church but when we left he grew bitter and angry. We’ve been married for over twenty years and I wondered if our marriage would make it,” she continued, shaking her head. “And then you gave us Master.”
I smiled, more confident than ever that I made the right decision. Although the pastor had me thinking that there was a dark side to him.
Suddenly her lips trembled, forcing her chin to do the same. “I don’t want to fall in love with him, Scarlett, if you’re going to take him from us. I need to know this is real. I need to know that it’s safe to love him.”
I stood up and walked toward her. Grabbing both of her hands I said, “As long as you’re good to my son, I’ll continue to be good to you.”
“It’s not about the money,” she said removing her hands from mine. “Although the anonymous donations you’ve given us have allowed us to purchase a new church.” She smiled. “What I’m asking you is regarding the heart. Can I fall in love with that baby? Is it safe to do so?”
“He’s yours, Nadine,” I said. My words tasted like salt in my mouth although they were true. “And all I ask is that you do what you are doing now. Allow me to see him from time to time. To check on his safety.”
She gripped my hands and squeezed them softly. “Then we have a deal.” She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “But you know,” she said seriously, “the reverend can never find out that you’re in Master’s life, or that you’re donating to the church.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say it wouldn’t be good.”
I looked into her eyes. “Nadine, are you scared of him?”
“I respect him, although sometimes it resembles fear.”
When I heard my phone vibrate, I separated from her and grabbed it from my purse. It was a text message from Camp.
He decided to take our case! Come to the office now!
****
His face was as chalky white as death. He was an ugly man, with pus bumps all over his protruding white nose. I didn’t like him for many reasons. Not only because he was unattractive but also because he was good at what he did.
His name was Morris Swanson, and he was a popular private investigator. Everybody he sought to find, he did and now he was on Camp’s side.
I sat on the other side of the desk and Camp was sitting next to me, holding my hand. When I gazed over at my husband, I noticed how he looked upon Morris as if he was Jesus Christ. I never saw him look so goofy and it was obvious that he was pouring all of his hope into this man. “I really appreciate you taking our case,” Camp said with a wide smile. It was as if Morris already found him in his eyes. “I know you didn’t have any openings so this means a lot.”
Morris shuffled a few papers around on his desk. “I am a busy man,” he responded. His voice steely and uncaring.
“I know and that’s why I appreciate you. I’ve been doing all I can to find my boy on my own and nothing has worked.”
“Like I said when you first contacted me, I’ll do all I can to help you,” Swanson said. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“You have a ninety percent success rate,” Camp responded. He was on his shit so hard he may as well have sucked his dick.
Arrogantly, Morris said, “Well, this is true.” Morris looked over at me. “I am the best. But before I get more information, please tell me something. How did you two meet?”
What type of question is that? I thought.
“He met me when I was in court one day for a traffic ticket,” I lied, shuffling a little in my seat.
Although Camp met me in a courthouse, I was deceitful on why I was there. I was being charged for abusing my daughter who Camp didn’t know about. Between my secret twelve-year-old daughter who lived with my ex-husband, and Master who was staying with the Walkers, I had a lot of undisclosed information. This was the main reason I didn’t need Morris snooping around in my business.
I would rather talk to the cops.
“That’s interesting,” he said leaning back into his chair, causing it to squeak. “So what were you there for, Mr. Kennedy?”
“Boat docking tickets I think.” It was obvious Camp was not interested in speaking about when he met me.
“Oh, so you own a boat?” Swanson asked with raised fluffy grey eyebrows.
“Several,” Camp responded.
I could see the jealousy spread on Morris’ face and when
I looked over at Camp he didn’t appear to notice the man’s disgust for him. Wanting to find Master blinded him to people’s intentions and I didn’t want to be in his office.
Besides, there was so much going on. We had beef with the Russians, Sarah was in the house walking around naked and getting on everyone’s nerves, my baby was being loved on by another woman and I was stressed.
When it came to drama, I was good.
“Are you going to help us find our son?” I asked tiring of his irrelevant questions. I crossed my legs and wiggled my foot before running my hand through my red hair, stroking my scalp in the process.
He nodded. “Of course I’m going to find your son but like I told your husband before you arrived, I believe the kidnapping is an inside job.”
My heart rate increased. “Why do…” I cleared my throat because my first few words sounded like I was singing an opera. “Why would you say that?” My voice was much deeper.
“I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, Mrs. Kennedy. And my instincts are always correct, especially since I’m told you don’t want to get the cops involved. If I’m being honest about my background, I must also be honest about what I’m about to say next. I told your husband that I don’t trust you.”
I felt dizzy. It was like the room was spinning and I looked at Camp and he squeezed my hand compassionately.
“Of course, he told me you weren’t involved,” he continued. “And that I needed to look for a man by the name of…” he searched through a few papers on his desk before stopping at one, “Ngozi, an ex-boyfriend of yours who claims to have him. But I can’t seem to find any information on him.”
Trying to appear offended as opposed to guilty, I said, “So you’re saying I hurt my own child?”
“I don’t know what you would do to him but I do know this.” He sat back in his squeaky chair. “If nothing else, Mrs. Kennedy, I will find out.”
****
We were riding in the car in silence. Every so often, Camp would clutch the steering wheel, causing his brown knuckles to whiten with each grip. Finally, he looked over at me and said, “I know I’ve asked you this a million times so forgive me if I’m repeating myself. But when was the last time you saw Master?”
I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. Ten minutes out of Morris’ office and already he doubted me. “Camp, why are you doing this? I’ve told you everything I know. I’m just as confused as you are about where our son is. We are a team; don’t let him break us up.”
“Humor me,” he said firmly. “Tell me what happened again.”
I cleared my throat and said, “You and I broke up and I got with Ngozi for a little while. It was when you were missing.” I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans. “But I didn’t want to be with him because I wanted to work on our marriage. He got upset about it and told me to meet him somewhere so we could talk. I foolishly went and he kidnapped Master, Camp. That’s what happened.”
He looked at me and then back at the road.
“Do you believe me?” I asked.
Silence.
“Camp, do you believe me?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
BAMBI
What was Race thinking? I had to blink my eyes several times because I couldn’t believe that she allowed a stranger into our home. Yet there I was, sitting on my recliner across from a woman who claimed to be a police officer. She had credentials and even a marked car out front of the house but something didn’t feel right. Years in the military taught me to respect my instincts and they were going off majorly.
As I stared at this bitch, Race stood next to the door and Denim sat on the same couch as the unwanted visitor.
I could tell she had a recently blackened eye, no matter how much makeup she painted on.
“So have the police found a suspect in the burglaries?” I asked looking her up and down. Examining each of her features so that I could remember details later. “Or is he still at large?”
She turned her head towards me, allowing her hair to fall down the front of her right shoulder. “We have a few people in mind but we aren’t certain they will lead to an actual suspect. These things could take days or even weeks to solve.” She looked around the living room and at the tops of the walls.
Maybe for cameras.
They were all over the place but out of view.
“Can I offer you any more water?” Race asked.
The woman who introduced herself as Mellvue Harper raised her frosted glass and said, “No. I still have some.” She took a large sip. “But thank you anyway.”
“If you don’t have any suspects why are you here?” I questioned.
“Mainly because I wanted to alert the other people in the neighborhood. These are very dark days and one must always be careful.”
“I agree,” I smiled. “You never know who or what you’re dealing with. Some people are more deadly than others.” I stared deeply into her eyes so that she knew that the threat was real.
She crossed her legs and looked at me slyly. “I concur.” She paused. “The sad part is that most deaths can be prevented.”
“Oh?” I responded sarcastically. “Please explain.”
“Well since most murders are committed by a killer who knows his victim well, one would have to ask himself what could’ve been done to prevent it.”
“And your theory is?” Denim asked.
“Well for starters, bringing in a mediator can always lead to a resolution but ridding relationships of greed can also do wonders. Because if both parties were willing to share and be fair, the world would not be full of envy.”
“Some things are not meant to be shared,” I explained, referring to Mitch. “And some parties are going to have to understand that.”
She looked into my eyes and the smile vanished from her face. She blinked a few times and said, “Who really knows why people kill. Or rob for that matter.” She shrugged. “I’m simply telling everyone in the area to be cautious because something dark is coming.” She looked at Race. “And you must be careful in the future, darling. Because you really can’t let just anybody into your home these days.” She looked down at her designer jeans and white top. “I’m dressed plainly and all I had to do was flash you a badge and I was able to enter. If I were the enemy, I could’ve attacked.”
I looked over at Race who looked away from me. The unwanted visitor was right and we all knew it.
“Well we appreciate you letting us know,” Denim said. “And we’ll make sure our family is aware too. So that we can be ready to defend ourselves if need be.”
She stood up and shook all of our hands. I observed her professional manicure and then her makeup and hair. There wasn’t a thing about this bitch out of place. She belonged to a rich man and I had a feeling that one of the Russians turned her loose.
“It was nice meeting you, Ms. Arkadi,” I said with a grin. I took a guess on which brother she belonged to. And by the look on her face, I figured I guessed right.
Her eyes widened and she looked as if she saw a ghost. “What did you call me?”
“Mellvue,” I responded. “What did you think I called you?”
She flapped her eyes a few times and cleared her throat. “You ladies have a good night,” she said before walking out. “I’ll be in contact.”
I strutted over to the window by the door, pushed the cream curtain to the side and watched her get into her car. “I guess you know by now she’s with the Russians,” I said still staring out the window. When she was out of view I turned around and faced them. “What were you thinking, Race? What if she would’ve killed one of us?”
She walked over to the sofa and flopped down. “She said she was a cop, Bambi. And since we deal drugs, I figured we’d let her in to prevent any trouble.”
“Race, get your head out of your fucking ass! We don’t have to let nobody in here, cop or not, without a warrant! What is going on with you lately?”
“Nothing, Bambi,” she pleaded. “And I didn’t know she was
with the Russians until you called her Arkadi’s name,” she said leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you find the specialized killer I asked for?” I asked. “Because his first job will be killing that bitch.”
“With all of the men we have, I can’t think of a single one who I would trust with this responsibility. But I promise on everything I love, the Kennedy name too, that I will find someone. I will not let you down.” She paused. “Again.”
“Race, if you can’t do what needs to be done, then perhaps you don’t need to have a firm position in the business.”
“Bambi—”
“Bambi, shit,” I yelled. “Get it together, Race. Now! This family needs you!”
I saw a tear hang in the corner of her eye but she wiped it away.
“Why would the Russians send her in here?” Denim asked returning to the subject. “If they knew where we lived, they’d just blow the bitch up. Not send in some trophy wife.”
“They fucking with us,” I explained. “They engaging us in a game of mental warfare before they attack. Besides, they want Mitch and until they know his whereabouts, they can’t get rid of us.” I paused. “We’re going to have to move to the bunker tonight. Even with the soldiers we have surrounding the perimeter of our house, it’s best to be safe than sorry.”
“I don’t feel like moving again,” Denim sighed as she pulled a blunt from her jean pocket and lit it. “Between my mother and Bradley, I’ve been stressed out lately. Moving right now is not on my agenda.”
I sat next to her. Ever since Bradley came home, we hadn’t had a chance to talk about how she felt. I wasn’t sure how she was handling having him back and dealing with not having Jasmine. Denim was tough but I could tell things were weighing on her and her mother wasn’t helping matters in the least.
“Can I do anything for you?” I asked honestly. “We haven’t had a chance to talk because every time I try to get with you, Bradley grabs you.” I paused. “Even though I understand the need for him to be around his wife, I miss us.”